To fall from such an estate as this, above humanity and equal to

divinity, must be something almost too terrible to conceive, and we

can easily imagine that any death would be preferable to such a life.

But not even the horror of a life like this would be equivalent to

the sufferings of the Indian widow, who believes that her very soul

is contaminated beyond hope by the loss of her caste, and who feels

herself degraded below the level of those on whom she had looked with

an utter loathing that is almost incomprehensible to the Western mind.

She has to cut off her hair, she has to live on the coarsest of food,

she has to clothe herself in the coarsest of raiment, and altogether to

lead a life utterly and hopelessly miserable in every hardship that can

afflict the body, and every reproach that can torture the mind.

On the other side comes the belief, that if she follows the dictates

of her religion, and suffers herself to be burned on the funeral pile

of her husband, she qualifies herself for everlasting happiness. From

the moment that the ceremonies of the sacrifice are begun, she becomes

an absolutely sacred being, whose very touch sanctifies the objects on

which she lays her hands; she renders herself a model to be imitated

by all her sex, and her memory is forever venerated by her family. It

is therefore no wonder that, swayed by such considerations, the Indian

widow prefers death to life, and that the sacrifice of the Suttee has

taken such hold upon the people.

Varying slightly in details according to the rank of the individual

and the particular district in which the sacrifice takes place, the

ceremony is conducted after the following manner.

A hole is dug in the ground, over which the funeral pile is raised. The

object of the hole is to supply a current of air by which the fire may

be fed. Sticks are then driven round the edge of the hole to support

the materials of the pile, which are dry wood, rushes, and hemp. These

are heaped carefully to a height of four feet or so, and resin and ghee

(_i. e._ liquid butter) are thrown on the pile, so as to increase the

vehemence of the flames. The body is then taken to the river, on whose

bank the pyre is always erected, and is there washed by the relatives,

and afterward wrapped in a new cloth and laid on the pile.

During this time the widow stands on the bank, uttering prayers, and

waving in her hand a branch of mango. After the corpse is removed

from the water, she descends into it herself, and, having washed,

distributes to her friends all her ornaments, which are eagerly sought,

as being sanctified by having been touched by the sacred hand of a

suttee. She is then dressed in a new robe, and places herself by the

side of the body, to which she is usually, though not always, lashed.

Dry rushes and wood are next heaped over her, only her head being

suffered to be uncovered, so that she may breathe for the short time

she has to live. Two long bamboos are then laid across the pile, the

ends being held by the relations, so as to press her down should she

struggle to escape when the flames reach her. The fire is lighted by

her nearest relation, and, if the pile has been properly constructed,

the suttee is soon dead, being killed rather by suffocation from the

smoke than by the flames.

Sometimes, however, when the building of the pile has been entrusted

to inexperienced hands, a terrible scene takes place, the wretched

victim trying to escape from the flames that torture her, and being

ruthlessly held down by the bamboo poles across her body. Dr. Massie

relates several instances of attempted escape. In one case, the mode

of preparing the pile was evidently the cause of the poor victim’s

sufferings. At each corner a stout pole was erected, and from this pole

was suspended a second pile, like a canopy, elevated three or four feet

above the surface of the principal pile. This canopy was chiefly made

of logs of wood, and was exceedingly heavy.

After the suttee had been laid upon the pile, and covered with straw

saturated with ghee, the fire was kindled, and the smoke rolled in

thick volumes over the head of the victim. The flames began to blaze

fiercely, and if they had been allowed to burn in their own way, the

death of the poor woman would have been almost immediate. But just at

this time four assistants severed with their swords the ropes which

upheld the canopy, so that it fell with its whole weight upon her.

Possibly it was intended as an act of mercy, but its effect was

anything but merciful. For the moment she was stunned by the blow, but

the mass of billets checked the action of the fire, and caused it to

burn slowly instead of rapidly. The creeping flames soon restored her

to consciousness through the agony which they inflicted upon her, and

she shrieked pitifully for the help that none would give her, until

death at last put an end to her sufferings.

The same author quotes an account of a suttee who actually did succeed

in escaping from the flames, in spite of the resistance offered by the

officiating Brahmins and her relatives:--

“Another well-authenticated and brutal instance of this sacrifice

occurred about the same time in a more northern province of India: ‘The

unfortunate Brahminee, of her own accord, had ascended the funeral

pile of her husband’s bones, but finding the torture of the fire more

than she could bear, by a violent struggle she threw herself from the

flames, and, tottering to a short distance, fell down. Some gentlemen,

who were spectators, immediately plunged her into the river, which was

close by, and thereby saved her from being much burnt. She retained

her senses completely, and complained of the badness of the pile,

which, she said, consumed her so slowly that she could not bear it; but

expressed her willingness again to try it if they would improve it.

They would not do so, and the poor creature shrunk with dread from the

flames, which were now burning intensely, and refused to go on.

“‘When the inhuman relations saw this, they took her by the head and

heels, and threw her into the fire, and held her there till they were

driven away by the heat; they also took up large blocks of wood, with

which they struck her, in order to deprive her of her senses; but she

again made her escape, and, without any help, ran directly into the

river. The people of her house followed her here, and tried to drown

her by pressing her under the water, but an European gentleman rescued

her from them, and she immediately ran into his arms and cried to him

to save her.

“‘I arrived at the ground as they were bringing her the second time

from the river, and I cannot describe to you the horror I felt on

seeing the mangled condition she was in: almost every inch of skin

on her body had been burnt off; her legs and thighs, her arms and

back, were completely raw, her breasts were dreadfully torn, and the

skin hanging from them in threads; the skin and nails of her fingers

had peeled wholly off, and were hanging to the back of her hands. In

fact, I never saw and never read of so entire a picture of misery as

this poor woman displayed. She seemed to dread being again taken to

the fire, and called out to “the Ocha Sahib” to save her. Her friends

seemed no longer inclined to force, and one of her relations, at our

instigation, sat down beside her, and gave her some clothes, and told

her they would not. We had her sent to the hospital, where every

medical assistance was immediately given her, but without hope of

recovery. She lingered in the most excruciating pain for about twenty

hours, and then died.’”

It is often said that the woman is stupefied with opium or Indian hemp

before she is brought to the pile, and that the bystanders beat drums

and shout in order to drown her shrieks. This, however, is not the

case, the woman requiring the use of all her senses to enable her to go

through the various ceremonies which precede the actual burning, and

the pile being generally made so carefully that death is so rapid that

the victim scarcely utters a cry or makes a single struggle to escape.

Additions to the mere burning of the widow have been mentioned by

various travellers. Bernier, for example, says that, while travelling

near Agra, he heard that a Suttee was about to take place. He went to

the spot, and there saw a great pit, in the midst of which was a large

pile of wood. On the pile lay the body of a man, and beside it sat a

young and handsome woman, whose dress was almost saturated with oil, as

was the wood of the pile. The fire being lighted, she sat on the pile,

and as the flames wrapped her body, she exclaimed with a loud voice

that, according to the Indian belief in the transmigration of souls,

this was the fifth time that she had become a suttee, and that she

would have to do so twice more in order to attain perfection.

Round the edge of the pit danced five women, holding each other by

the hand, and appearing regardless of the fire. Presently the flames

seized upon the dress of one of them; whereupon she detached herself

from her companions, and flung herself headlong into the burning pit.

The remaining four continued their dance, and, as the fire caught their

garments, they one by one leaped into the flaming pit. These women, it

appeared, had been slaves of the suttee. They were greatly attached to

their mistress, and when they heard her offer the vow to die on the

funeral pile, they determined to die with her.

The same traveller relates a very curious anecdote of a suttee who

employed the dreadful ceremony for a strange purpose.

She was a widow by her own act, having poisoned her husband in order

to carry on an intrigue with a young tailor, a Mohammedan, who was

celebrated for his skill in playing the drum. He, however, was alarmed

at her crime, and declined her society. On account of the caste to

which she belonged, the death by burning was not a necessity, but on

her lover’s refusal she went to her relations, reported the sudden

death of her husband, and declared that she would be burned with him.

“Her kindred, well satisfied with so generous a resolution, and the

great honor that she did to the whole family, presently had a pit made

and filled with wood, exposing the corpse upon it, and kindling the

fire. All being prepared, the woman goes to embrace and bid farewell to

all her kindred that were there about the pit, among whom was also the

tailor, who had been invited to play upon the tabor that day, with many

others of that sort of men, according to the custom of the country.

This fury of a woman, being also come to this young man, made sign as

if she would bid him farewell with the rest, but, instead of gently

embracing him, she taketh him with all her force about his collar, pull

him to the pit, and tumbles him, together with herself, into the ditch,

where they both were soon despatched.”

The date at which the Suttee was instituted is not known, but it was

in operation at the time of Alexander the Great, and must have been

established long before. Under the British rule the Suttee system has

gradually been abolished, and we may hope that never again will the

dread scene be repeated.

* * * * *

Reference has already been made to several other modifications of human

sacrifice, and we will give a few pages to a description of them.

There is in the Indian mythology a certain dreadful goddess of

destruction, named Kali. Her statues show her attributes, her many

hands being filled with all kinds of weapons, and her person decorated

with a huge necklace of human skulls. In order to propitiate this

terrible divinity, a system has been developed which is perhaps the

most remarkable, illogical, and best regulated system that is to be

found upon the face of the earth. It is simply murder raised to the

rank of a religious rite, and differs from all other human sacrifices

in that blood is not shed, that the victim is always killed by

stratagem, and that the worshippers need neither temple nor altar.

The members of the society call themselves THUGS, from a Hindoo word

which signifies “deception,” and which is given to them in consequence

of the mode in which the victims are entrapped. In some parts of India

they are called PHÂNSIGARS, from a Sanscrit word which signifies “a

noose.” Perhaps the strangest point, in this country of strict and

separate caste, is that the Thugs do not belong to one caste, nor even

to one religion. They all agree in worshipping Kali, but in other

respects they admit among their numbers men and women of all castes,

and a large number of them are Mahommedans, who have no caste at all.

Indeed, the Mahommedan Thugs claim for themselves the origin of the

system, though the Hindoos say that it was in existence long before the

time of Mahommed.

They always go in companies, a complete band often consisting of

several hundred persons of all ages and both sexes. As the very essence

of the sacrifice is secrecy, they assume all kinds of disguises, the

usual being that of travelling merchants. In this capacity they act

their part to perfection, and endeavor to entice travellers into their

clutches.

For this purpose they have a regular organization. At their head they

have a chief, or Sirdar, who directs the operations of the band. Then

an old experienced Thug acts as instructor, and teaches the younger men

how to use the sacred noose by which the victims are strangled. This

is not a cord with a running knot, but a sort of handkerchief, which

is flung round the neck of the unsuspecting man, and suddenly drawn

tight. This noose, or handkerchief, is called the “roomal.” Then come

the men who are entrusted with the noose. These are called Bhuttotes,

or stranglers, and are generally men possessing both strength and

activity. Next are the entrappers, or Sothas, namely, those whose

business it is to entrap the victim into a convenient spot for his

assassination, and to engage his attention while preparations are being

made for his death. Lastly come the Lughaees, or grave-diggers, who

prepare the grave for the reception of the body.

The method in which the Thugs perform their sacrifices is almost

exactly like that which is employed by the modern garroters, except

that a noose is used instead of the arm, and that the victim is always

killed, instead of being only made insensible for a time.

Having pitched upon a person whom they think will be a fit offering

for Kali, the Sothas manage to induce him to come to the fatal spot.

Several days are often spent in this endeavor; for, unless there

is every probability that the murder will not be executed before

any except members of their own society, the Thugs will not attempt

the traveller’s life. The women and children attached to the band

are usually employed as Sothas, inasmuch as they would excite less

suspicion than if they were men. If the women be young and handsome,

they are the more valuable as decoys; and, horrible to say, even young

girls take the greatest interest in decoying travellers within the

fatal noose.

When the party have arrived at the appointed spot, the attention of the

traveller is adroitly directed to some object in front of him, while

the Bhuttote who acts the part of executioner steals quietly behind

him. Suddenly the noose is flung round the victim’s neck, the knee of

the murderer is pressed into his back, and in a short time he ceases

to live. Generally the executioner is so adroit at his dread office

that the murdered man makes no resistance, but dies almost without a

struggle, the first pressure of the noose causing insensibility.

The body of the murdered man is then stripped, and his property falls

to the band. Sometimes a whole party of travellers is entrapped by a

band of Thugs, and all are simultaneously murdered. This is generally

the case when several wealthy men travel together, in which case they

and their servants are all murdered in honor of Kali; who, on her

part, yields to her servants the goods of the murdered men, by way of

recompense for their piety.

The sacrifice over, the body is pierced in several places to prevent

it from swelling, and is then laid in the grave. The soil is carefully

filled in, and levelled with such ingenious care that scarcely any

except those who dug the grave can discover it after the burial. In

one case, when an English force was in chase after a band of Thugs,

they passed over ground which was full of bodies, and never suspected

it until one of the Thug prisoners exultingly pointed out grave after

grave as proofs of their success.

After the body is buried, and all signs of the murder removed, the

Thugs go through a sort of religious ceremony, sitting round a white

cloth, on which are laid the sacred pickaxes with which the graves are

dug, a piece of silver, and some sugar. The Sirdar then sits on the

sheet, facing westward, with the most accomplished stranglers on either

side of him, and distributes the sugar to all present, who eat it in

solemn silence. The sheet is then put away, and to all appearance the

Thugs are nothing more than a party of harmless travellers.

So secretly is the whole business conducted, that the system has only

been discovered within late years. Numbers of persons had mysteriously

disappeared; but in India the natives are singularly apathetic, and

it is always easy to account for the disappearance of a traveller by

saying that he has been carried off by a tiger. The Thugs take the

greatest pride in their profession, and, when captured, do not attempt

to disguise it, but openly boast of the number of victims whom they

have slain, and describe with glee the method in which they destroyed

them; and, when themselves led to the gallows, they treat the whole

business with calm contempt, having no more care for their own lives

than for those of their victims.

* * * * *

We now come to another ceremony, in which human life is sacrificed,

though as an adjunct, and not as its essential feature. This is the

celebrated procession of Juggernaut, or Jaganatha. The ceremonies

connected with this idol, and indeed the invention of the idol itself,

seem to be of comparatively modern date, and, except for the great

annual procession of the car, are of little interest.

The great temple of the idol is situated in Orissa, rather more than

three hundred miles southwest from Calcutta. It is a tall, pyramidal

tower, some two hundred feet in height, built of a warm red sandstone,

covered with the lime-cement called “chunam.” Being on the sea-coast,

this tower is a most useful landmark to navigators in the Bay of

Bengal.

Once in every year the great festival of Juggernaut takes place, and

the huge idol-car is brought out for the procession. The car is an

enormous edifice of wood, more than forty feet high, and thirty-five

feet square. This mass of timber is supported on sixteen wheels, each

more than six feet in diameter, some of the wheels being under the body

of the car. The car itself is plentifully adorned with sculptures of

the usual character, and it is conventionally supposed to be drawn by

two great wooden horses, which are attached to it in readiness for the

procession, and kept inside it during the rest of the year.

On the appointed day three idols are placed in the car. The central

figure represents Krishna, and the others are his brother Bala Rama and

his sister Sûbhadra. They are nothing but three enormous and hideous

busts, not nearly so well carved as the tikis of New Zealand, and, in

fact, much resemble the human figures scribbled on walls by little

boys. Stout and long cables are attached to the car, by means of which

the worshippers of the idol drag it along. The scene that takes place

at the procession is most vividly described by Bruton:--

“In this chariot, on their great festal days, at night they place their

wicked god, _Jaggarnat_; and all the _Bramins_, being in number nine

thousand, attend this great idol, besides of _ashmen_ and _fackeeres_

(fakirs) some thousands, or more than a good many.

“The chariot is most richly adorned with most rich and costly

ornaments; and the aforesaid wheels are placed very complete in a

round circle, so artificially that every wheel doth its proper office

without any impediment; for the chariot is aloft, and in the centre

betwixt the wheels: they have also more than two thousand lights with

them. And this chariot, with the idol, is also drawn with the greatest

and best men of the town; and they are so greedy and eager to draw it,

that whosoever, by shouldering, crowding, shoving, heaving, thrusting,

or in any insolent way, can but lay a hand upon the rope, they think

themselves blessed and happy; and when it is going along the city,

there are many that will offer themselves as a sacrifice to this idol,

and desperately lie down on the ground, that the chariot-wheels may run

over them, whereby they are killed outright; some get broken arms, some

broken legs, as that many of them are so destroyed; and by this means

they think to merit heaven.”

Another of the earlier writers on this subject states that many persons

lie down in the track of the car a few hours before it starts, and,

taking a powerful dose of opium, or “bhang,” _i. e._ Indian hemp, meet

death while still unconscious.

In former days the annual assemblage at the temple of Juggernaut, which

is to the Hindoos what Mecca is to the Mahommedans, was astonishing,

a million and a half of pilgrims having been considered as the average

number. Putting aside the comparative few who perished under the wheels

of the great car (for, indeed, had the whole road been paved with human

bodies, they would have been but a few), the number that died from

privation and suffering was dreadful.

We know by many a sad experience how difficult it is to feed a large

army, even with the great advantage of discipline on the part of the

commissariat and the recipients. It is therefore easy to see how

terrible must be the privation when a vast multitude, quadruple the

number of any army that ever took the field, arrives simultaneously

from all directions at a place where no arrangements have been made

to supply them with provisions, and where, even if the locality could

furnish the requisite food, the greater number of the pilgrims are

totally without money, and therefore unable to pay for food. In those

days the pilgrims perished by thousands, as much victims to Juggernaut

as those who were crushed under his chariot wheels, and, indeed,

suffering a far more lingering and painful death. Still, according to

their belief, they died in the performance of their duty, and by that

death had earned a high place in the paradise of the Hindoos.

Such was the case before the English raj was established in India.

Since that time a gradual but steady diminution has taken place in the

number of the pilgrims to Juggernaut’s temple; and we have lately seen

a most astonishing and portentous event. Formerly, the vast crowd of

worshippers pressed and crowded round the cables by which the car was

drawn, trying to lay but a hand upon the sacred rope. Of late years the

Brahmins have found fewer and fewer devotees for this purpose, and on

one occasion, in spite of all their efforts, the ropes were deserted,

and the car left stationary, to get along as it could.

As to the idol Juggernaut itself, Bruton gives a curious description

of it, saying that it is in shape like a serpent with seven heads, and

that on the cheeks of each head there are wings which open and shut and

flap about as the car moves along.

An idol in the form of a five-headed cobra is mentioned by Messrs.

Tyerman and Bennett in their “Missionary Voyages”: “We happened to be

visiting a very handsomely built stone temple (at Allahabad), covered

with well executed sculptures of their idols, holy persons, etc., in

stone of the highest relief. In the temple were several stone idols

representing the serpent--the _cobra capella_, or hooded snake. The

largest, which represents a serpent twelve feet long, with five heads,

and the heads all expanded, coiled into a sort of Gordian knot, is the

principal object of worship in this temple.

“While we were looking at this stone snake, a horrid-looking man,

unclothed, rushed in (he was about twenty-five years old), being

covered with ashes, and his huge quantity of hair matted with mud

dust. His eyes appeared inflamed; he bowed before the serpent, then

prostrated himself, afterward respectfully touched his head, looked

fixedly upon the serpent, prostrated himself again, then touched it and

rushed out, as if in a paroxysm of delight at the thought of having

worshipped this thing. When he got out of the temple, he walked all

round within the verandah, and, having once more bowed at the door of

the temple, he departed with a hurried step. We cannot conceive of

any human being having more the appearance of a demoniac than this

miserable creature, who, nevertheless, is regarded by the poor Hindoos

as one of the holiest of men.”

* * * * *

Another form of human sacrifice was intended, like the prostration

under Juggernaut’s car, to take the devotee to Paradise, though by a

less painful and less revolting process.

The Ganges has always been reckoned as a most sacred stream, whose

waters wash from the soul all taint of sin. There is, however, one

spot, namely, the confluence of the Jumna with the Ganges, which is so

very sacred, that any one who dies there must of necessity go straight

to Paradise. It is evident, therefore, that the simplest plan of

entering Paradise is to ensure death at the junction of the rivers. For

this purpose the devotee entered a boat, and tied to each of his feet

a chatty or earthenware jar filled with sand. The boat was rowed into

mid-stream, and the devotee dropped overboard into the river. The boats

used for this purpose were kept by Brahmins, who charged a fee for

officiating at the sacrifice.

Sometimes the devotees managed to sacrifice themselves without the

assistance of the Brahmins and their boat. They tied an empty chatty to

their waists in front and behind, and, buoyed up by the empty vessels,

paddled themselves with their hands until they reached the desired

spot. They then scooped water into the chatties, until they were

filled, and so sank, the weight of the vessels being sufficient to take

them to the bottom. In like manner are corpses entrusted to the keeping

of the holy river, when the relatives of the deceased are not able to

afford the great expense of a funeral pile. The body is surrounded by

lighted straw, so that it is scorched, and therefore considered to be

purified by fire. Two chatties are then fastened to it, the relatives

tow the body into mid-stream, fill the chatties with water, and allow

the body to sink. What becomes of it afterward they care nothing, and

though it be devoured by the many creatures of prey which haunt the

rivers in search of their loathsome food, they are perfectly satisfied

with their share in its disposal.

In many cases beasts are substituted for human sacrifices. A short,

stout post is fixed in the ground, and on its top is cut a deep notch,

in which is received the neck of the animal, the size of the notch and

height of the post being suited to the size of the victim. Sacrifices

are thus offered to Doorga, the goddess of nature, and it is of the

utmost importance that the head of the victim should be severed at a

single blow. This is easy enough with a lamb, or even a goat, but when

a buffalo is to be sacrificed, the success of the blow is so doubtful

that many ceremonies are employed to ensure its right performance.

The sacrificial knife is a tremendous weapon, shaped something like

a bill-hook, very broad, very heavy, and kept as sharp as a razor.

When the sacrifice is to take place, the buffalo is brought to the

post, which stands before the ten-armed image of Doorga, its horns are

painted red, turmeric is poured over its head, water from the Ganges is

sprinkled over it, and garlands of flowers are hung about its neck.

The animal is then placed so that its neck rests in the fork of the

post, to which it is firmly secured by an iron bar which passes through

holes in the fork, and presses its head downward. The body is supported

on a mound of earth in front of the post, and the legs are drawn apart

and held by ropes, so that a movement is impossible. The sacrificer,

always a man of great muscular power, then comes forward and takes the

sacrificial knife from the altar before Doorga’s statue, and, together

with the assembled multitude, prays that strength may be given to

enable him to fulfil his office.

Amid the breathless silence of the assembled worshippers, he raises

the heavy blade, and with one blow drives it through the neck of the

helpless victim. As the head falls to the ground, it is snatched up

by the officiating Brahmins, who offer it to the goddess, while the

people, in a frenzy of delight, dance round the sacrificer, embrace

him, chant songs in his honor, and crown him with garlands of flowers.

The body of the buffalo becomes the property of the spectators, who

struggle for it until one party gains the superiority over the other,

and carries off the prize. Around the blood, that lies in pools on the

ground, the multitude crowd, dip their fingers in it, and daub it on

their bodies and on the walls of the temple.

The goddess Doorga, to whom these sacrifices are made, is in fact Kali

under another title; the former name meaning the Inaccessible, and the

latter the Black One. She is represented as the wife of the Destroying

God, Shiva, and as the mother of the God of War, Kartikeya. As Doorga,

her many-armed figure is carved of wood, or modelled in pasteboard,

and painted rose color. She is seated cross-legged on a peacock, and

surrounded by many other deities of the multitudinous Hindoo mythology.

Before her is represented a man being devoured by a nondescript beast,

something like the heraldic griffin. As soon as the sacrifice is over,

the goddess is supposed to depart from her image, which is then taken

in procession to the Ganges, and amid the deafening shouts of the

people, the blast of trumpets, and the beating of kettle-drums, is cast

into the stream.

* * * * *

The reader may remember that on page 1413 was given a short description

of a holy man who came to worship the many-headed snake-god. He was one

of the Fakirs, or Jogis, _i. e._ ascetics, who in India are wonderfully

numerous, and submit themselves to the most dreadful tortures in honor

of their deities. By rights the Fakirs are Mohammedans, though the

English have been accustomed to call both the Mohammedan and Hindoo

ascetics by the common title of Fakir. “Jogi” is the usual title for

the Hindoo devotees, though they are divided into a number of sects,

such as Bairágès, Sangasés, Gosárés, &c.

In all ages and in almost all countries, there have been religious

enthusiasts, who have sought to gain the favor or propitiate the anger

of the deity by voluntary suffering, but there is perhaps no country

where we find so great a variety of this principle as we do in India.

There are Mohammedan as well as Hindoo ascetics, and the latter have

this advantage, that they need not belong to any particular caste. To

describe fully the extraordinary proceedings of these men would occupy

much more space than can be afforded, and we will therefore only take a

few of the most characteristic examples.

One of the commonest, as well as one of the lightest, of these tortures

is, to have the tongue bored with a red-hot iron. This practice used

to prevail largely at Chinsurah, at the temple of the Bull-god. Under

a clump of banyan trees the devotees assembled in order to inflict

various tortures upon themselves, and by far the most common was that

of tongue boring. The operation was performed by a native smith,

who was reckoned very skilful at it, and at certain seasons he was

completely beset by applicants, doubly clamorous in the first place to

have their tongues bored, and in the next to have it done as cheaply as

possible. At these seasons he used to range the applicants in regular

lines, and take them in their turn, varying his fee according to their

number, rank, and impatience.

A strange instance of self-torture is described by Colonel Campbell.

At Colar, the birthplace of Tippoo Sultan, a man was seen marching up

and down before a mosque, chanting a hymn. He was shod with a pair of

wooden sandals, not tied but nailed to his feet by long iron spikes

that had been driven through the sole and projected above the instep.

Yet he walked with a firm, unconcerned step, and chanted his measured

tune as if utterly unconscious of the horrible torture which each step

must have cost him.

Sometimes these devotees show their piety by long pilgrimages to

certain sacred spots, making the journey as difficult and fanciful as

possible. Some will lie on the ground and roll the whole distance,

while others measure the track by prostrating themselves on their

faces, marking the spot where their heads lay, getting up, placing

their feet on the marked spot, and then prostrating themselves

again. Sometimes they will lie on their backs and push themselves

along the road by their heels, thus cutting and bruising their backs

terribly against the rough ground. Some of these men practise a most

extraordinary penance in honor of the goddess Doorga, a penance which

in some respects resembles the initiation of the Mandans. A stout pole,

some twenty feet high, is fixed in the ground, and a long bamboo is

placed horizontally over the top, on which it revolves by means of a

pivot. Sometimes two or even three poles cross each other on the top

of the post. Ropes hang from each end of the bamboos, and to half of

them are fastened large unbarbed hooks of polished iron. The devotees

having placed themselves under the bamboo, the hooks are run into their

backs, and by persons hauling on the rope at the other end of the

bamboo they are raised into the air. The men who hold the ropes then

run in a circle, so as to swing the devotees round at a great pace, the

whole weight of their bodies being borne by the hooks. While swinging

they scatter flowers and other gifts among the spectators, who eagerly

scramble for them, thinking they possess very great virtues.

Both men and women submit to this terrible torture, and do so for a

variety of reasons. Some permit themselves to be swung in pure honor of

the goddess, some do it in fulfilment of a vow, while many submit to

the operation for pay, acting as substitutes of persons who have made

the vow and are afraid to fulfil it personally, or who prefer honoring

the goddess by deputy rather than in their own person. From one to two

rupees, _i. e._ from two to four shillings, is considered a fair price

to the substitute.

Sometimes the upright post is fastened upon an ordinary bullock wagon,

and is shorter than when it is fixed in the ground. After the hooks

have been inserted, the opposite end of the bamboo is drawn down, so

as to elevate the devotee some thirty feet in the air, and made fast

to the wagon. The cart is then drawn as fast as possible round the

enclosure by six or eight bullocks, which are harnessed to it for the

occasion, and selected for their speed.

In many instances, the Jogis (pronounced Yogees) perform their penance

by keeping one or more of their limbs in one attitude, until after a

time it becomes incapable of motion, and the muscles almost entirely

waste away. Some of these men will hold one arm stretched upward to

its fullest extent. This is done by supporting the arm by a cord when

the wearied muscles refuse to uphold the limb any longer. In some

instances, where the Jogi has clenched his hand, the nails have grown

fairly through the hand, forced their way through the back, and hung

nearly to the wrist.

A very common practice is to sit completely motionless, in which case

the legs become in time totally incapable of moving, so that the man

could not change his position even if he desired to do so. In some

instances they even go beyond this, and manage to stand instead of sit,

with scarcely any support for their bodies during sleep. One of these

men is described by Mr. Williamson: “Within a few yards of the river

on our left stood one of those horrid figures called a _yogee_, or

Indian saint,--a gentleman beggar, who had placed himself in a certain

attitude, from which he had vowed never to swerve during the remainder

of his life, but to spend his life in mental abstraction.

“He appeared on a platform of earth raised about eighteen inches from

the ground. At one end of this mound (which might be seven feet long

by five broad) were erected two bamboos, seven or eight feet high,

and sufficiently apart for him to stand between them. At elbow height

a broad board was placed from one bamboo to the other, and upon the

middle of this another piece of plank, two feet long by five inches

wide, was fixed, sloping upward from him. He therefore, standing on the

platform, and resting his arms upon the cross-bar, held with his hands

on each side of the upright sloping board. He seemed to press equally

on either foot, leaning a little forward, with his face turned rather

aside, and raised toward the sun.

“His personal appearance was squalid and miserable. His body was

daubed all over with blue mud; his hair--long, matted, discolored to a

yellowish brown with exposure--dangled in all directions. His beard was

bushy and black, and the rest of his face so disfigured with hair, that

it might be said to be all beard.

“Not the slightest motion in one of his limbs, nor in a muscle of his

countenance, was perceptible. He was altogether without clothing,

except a slip of brown stuff about the loins. He wore the ‘poita,’ or

sacred thread, indicating that he was a Brahmin. Night and day, it is

understood, the wretched sufferer (if indeed his state can be called

one of suffering) maintains without any variation this paralyzing

position.”

Mr. Bennett then expresses some disbelief in the constant immobility of

the devotee, and evidently suspects him to be an impostor, who, under

cover of night, leaves his post, and refreshes himself with sleep in

a recumbent position. This, however, was certainly not the case, and

indeed the very language of the account shows that it could not be so.

A very long period must have elapsed before the devotee in question

could have trained his body to remain, as Mr. Bennett admits was the

case, without the movement of a muscle during the whole time that

his proceedings were watched. And, before such a consummation could

have been attained, the limbs of the man must have been so entirely

stiffened by non-usage, that they would be as inflexible as if they

had been cut out of wood or stone, and whether he stood or lay would

have been a matter of perfect indifference. As to sitting, or assuming

any attitude that involved the flexion of a limb, it would have been

utterly impossible.

We may see a similar phenomenon, if it may be so called, among

ourselves. There is not one man in a thousand who preserves the

normal flexibility of his limbs, unless he be a professional athlete.

Naturally, the limbs of every man and woman are as flexible as those of

the posture-masters, who can cross their feet over the back of their

necks, pick up a coin with their mouths from the ground between their

heels, or sit on the ground with their legs stretched straight at

either side of their bodies. But, unless men preserve this flexibility

by constant use, the limbs become stiff, and it is quite as difficult,

not to say impossible, for an ordinary Englishman to perform the feats

of the professional acrobat, as it is for the Jogi to bend the knees or

ankles that have been unbent for a series of years.

Moreover, the spectators who assemble round such devotees, and who

never leave him unwatched by day or night, would be very ready to

detect any attempt at imposture, and would be excited by it to such a

pitch of religious fury, that the man would be torn to pieces by the

excited crowd. And the very fact that the man was a Brahmin was proof

enough that he was no impostor. By virtue of his Brahminical rank, he

was at the summit of humanity. Had he been a low-caste man, he might

with reason have been suspected of imposture, in order to obtain

respect from his countrymen. But, as the man was already a Brahmin,

such imposture was totally needless, and his devotion, superstitious

and fanatical as it might be, was undoubtedly sincere.

CHAPTER CLI.

INDIA--_Concluded_.

THE INDIANS WITH RELATION TO ANIMALS.

FALCONRY -- THE MINA BIRD AND ITS FEATS -- SNAKE CHARMERS --

SUSPICION OF IMPOSTURE -- GENERAL CAMPBELL’S ACCOUNT OF THE COBRA

AND THE CHARMER -- DEATH OF THE MAN -- DIFFICULTY OF THE TASK --

THE POISON FANGS NOT REMOVED -- INITIATION OF A NOVICE -- ELEPHANT

HUNTING -- CATCHING ELEPHANTS WITH KOOMKIES -- TAMING THE CAPTURED

ANIMAL -- AN ENTHUSIASTIC KOOMKIE -- HUNTING IN NEPÂL -- JUNG BAHADÛR

AND THE ELEPHANTS -- HUNTING WITH TRAINED STAGS AND ANTELOPES -- THE

CHETAHS OR HUNTING LEOPARDS.

We will end this description of India with a few remarks on one of

the chief peculiarities of native character, namely, the wonderful

capacity of the Indians in taming and training animals. This capacity

develops itself in various ways, some partaking of a religious

character, and being considered as in some sense miraculous, and some

only illustrative of the natural ascendancy which these men exert over

beasts, birds, and reptiles.

The Indians are, for example, unsurpassed in their powers of training

falcons, which they teach to attack, not only birds, but antelopes and

other game. These falcons are of course unable of themselves to kill

an antelope, but they will mark out any one that has been designated

by their master, and will swoop down upon its head, clinging firmly

with their talons, and buffeting the poor beast about the eyes with

their wings, so that it runs wildly hither and thither, and thus allows

itself to be captured by the dogs, from which it could have escaped had

it been able to proceed in a straight line. A thoroughly trained falcon

is held in very great esteem, and many a petty war, in which many lives

were lost, has been occasioned by the desire of one rajah to possess a

falcon owned by another.

Then there is a little bird called the Mina, belonging to the Grakles.

It is a pretty bird, about as large as a starling, with plumage of

velvety black, except a white patch on the wing. From either side of

the head proceeds a bright yellow wattle. This bird can be taught to

talk as well as any parrot, and it is said that, as a rule, the mina’s

tones more closely resemble those of the human voice than do those

of any parrot. It is very intelligent besides, and can be taught to

perform many pretty tricks.

One trick, which is very commonly taught to the bird, is to dart down

upon the women, snatch away the ornaments which they wear on their

heads, and carry them to its master. This is a little trick that is

sometimes played by a young man upon the object of his affections,

and is intended to make her grant an interview in order to have her

property restored.

As to reptiles, the cobra seems to be as unlikely a creature to be

tamed as any on the face of the earth. Yet even this terrible serpent,

whose bite is nearly certain death, is tamed by the Indians, and

taught to go through certain performances. For example, a couple of

serpent charmers will come, with their flat baskets and their musical

instruments, and begin to give a performance. One of them plays on

a rude native pipe, while the other removes the cover of one of the

baskets. Out comes the hooded head of the cobra, which seems as if it

were about to glide among the spectators, when a gesture and a few

notes from the piper check its progress, and it begins to rise and

fall, and sway its head from side to side, as if in time to the music.

The men will then take up the venomous reptile, allow it to crawl over

their bodies, tie it round their necks, and take all kinds of liberties

with it, the serpent appearing to labor under some strange fascination,

and to be unable or unwilling to use its fangs.

Some persons think that the serpents are innocuous, their poison fangs

having been extracted. This may be the case in some instances, but in

them the performers are not the genuine snake charmers. Moreover, there

are several sets of fangs, one behind the other, so that when one pair

is broken or extracted, another pair speedily comes forward.

That the genuine charmers do not depend upon such imposture for their

success is evident from many cases in which the serpents have been

carefully examined before and after the performance, and their fangs

found to be perfect in every respect. One such instance is narrated by

General Campbell in his “Indian Journal.” He had previously been under

the impression that the fangs were always removed from the serpents,

but the following circumstance convinced him that the charmers could

perform their tricks with snakes whose fangs were perfect:--

“When I was on General Dalrymple’s staff at Trichinopoly, there was a

dry well in the garden which was the favorite haunt of snakes, and in

which I shot several. One morning I discovered a large cobra-capella

at the bottom of this well, basking in the sun; but while I ran to

fetch my gun some of the native servants began to pelt him with stones,

and drove him into his hole among the brickwork. I therefore sent

for the snake charmers to get him out. Two of these worthies having

arrived, we lowered them into the well by means of a rope. One of them,

after performing sundry incantations, and sprinkling himself and his

companion with ashes prepared from the dung of a sacred cow, began to

play a shrill, monotonous ditty upon a pipe ornamented with shells,

brass rings, and beads, while the other stood on one side of the

snake’s hole, holding a rod furnished at one end with a slip-noose.

“At first the snake, who had been considerably bullied before he took

refuge in his hole, was deaf to the notes of the charmer, but after

half an hour’s constant playing the spell began to operate, and the

snake was heard to move. In a few minutes more he thrust out his head,

the horse-hair noose was dexterously slipped over it and drawn tight,

and we hoisted up the men dangling their snake in triumph.

“Having carried him to an open space of ground, they released him

from the noose. The enraged snake immediately made a rush at the

by-standers, putting to flight a crowd of native servants who had

assembled to witness the sport. The snake charmer, tapping him on the

tail with a switch, induced him to turn upon himself, and at the same

moment sounding his pipe. The snake coiled himself up, raised his head,

expanded his hood, and appeared about to strike, but, instead of doing

so, he remained in the same position as if fascinated by the music,

darting out his slender forked tongue, and following with his head the

motion of the man’s knee, which he kept moving from side to side within

a few inches of him, as if tempting him to bite.

“No sooner did the music cease, than the snake darted forward with such

fury that it required great agility on the part of the man to avoid

him, and immediately made off as fast as he could go. The sound of the

pipe, however, invariably made him stop, and obliged him to remain in

an upright position as long as the man continued to play.

“After repeating this experiment several times, he placed a fowl within

his reach, which he instantly darted at and bit. The fowl screamed out

the moment he was struck, but ran off, and began picking among his

companions as if nothing had happened. I pulled out my watch to see how

long the venom took to operate.

“In about half a minute the comb and wattles of the fowl began to

change from a red to a livid hue, and were soon nearly black, but no

other symptom was apparent. In two minutes it began to stagger, was

seized with strong convulsions, fell to the ground, and continued to

struggle violently till it expired, exactly three minutes and a half

after it had been bitten. On plucking the fowl, we found that he had

merely been touched on the extreme point of the pinion. The wound, not

larger than the puncture of a needle, was surrounded by a livid spot,

but the remainder of the body, with the exception of the comb and

wattles (which were of a dark livid hue), was of the natural color, and

I afterward learned that the coachman, a half-caste, had eaten it.

“The charmer now offered to show us his method of catching snakes, and

seizing the reptile (about five feet long) by the point of the tail

with his left hand, he slipped the right hand along the body with the

swiftness of lightning, and grasping him by the throat with his finger

and thumb, held him fast, and forced him to open his jaws and display

his poisonous fangs.

“Having now gratified my curiosity, I proposed that the snake should be

destroyed, or at least that his fangs might be extracted, an operation

easily performed with a pair of forceps. But, the snake being a

remarkably fine one, the charmer was unwilling to extract his teeth,

as he said the operation sometimes proved fatal, and begged so hard to

be allowed to keep him as he was, that I at last suffered him to put

him in a basket and carry him off. After this he frequently brought the

snake to the house to exhibit him, and still with his fangs entire, as

I ascertained by personal inspection, but so tame that he handled him

freely, and apparently without fear or danger.”

The best proof that the snake’s fangs were not extracted is, that some

weeks afterwards the reptile bit the charmer, and killed him.

It seems strange that serpents should be thus subject to man. It is

comparatively easy to tame a bird or a beast, as hunger can be employed

in the process, and really is the chief power, the creature learning to

be fond of the person who furnishes it with food. Or, in extreme cases,

the power of inflicting pain is employed, so that the animal is ruled

by fear, if not by love.

But, in the case of a snake, the tamer is deprived of both of these

adjuncts. As a serpent only feeds at very long intervals, and possesses

an almost inexhaustible power of fasting, hunger cannot be employed;

and its peculiar constitution would render the infliction of pain

useless. The charmer has, therefore, to fall back upon some other

mode of working upon his pupil, and finds it in music, to which the

cobra seems peculiarly accessible. That it is powerfully influenced by

music was known many centuries ago, as we may see by the references

to serpent charming in the Scriptures. Any music seems to affect

the creature, and, if it can be rendered docile by the harsh sounds

that proceed from the charmer’s flute, we may conjecture that more

melodious sounds would have a like effect. Mr. Williams, who was very

much inclined to be sceptical on the subject of serpent charming, and

thought that the poison fangs were always removed, mentions that a

gentleman at Chinsurah, who was a very excellent violinist, was forced

to lay aside his instrument because the sounds of the violin attracted

so many serpents to his house.

Serpent charming is thought to be a semi-sacred calling, and is one

of those cases where the process of taming partakes of the religious

character. The charmers are regularly initiated into their duties, and

undergo certain ceremonies before they are thought to be impervious

to the serpent’s teeth. Sometimes an European has been initiated into

these mysteries, as happened to Lady Duff Gordon, to whom a snake

charmer took a fancy, and offered to initiate her. He and his pupil sat

opposite each other, and joined their hands. The charmer then twisted

a cobra round their joined hands, and repeated some invocation. Both

of them afterward spat on the snake, and the novice was pronounced

to be safe, and enveloped in snakes as a proof of the success of the

incantation.

* * * * *

There is perhaps no better instance of the mastery of the Indians over

animals than the manner in which they catch and instruct elephants.

The reader will doubtless remember that, though the elephant is

abundant both in Africa and India, the inhabitants of the former

country never attempt to domesticate it. It has been thought that the

African elephant is not trained, because it is fiercer than the Asiatic

species or variety, and lacks the intelligence which distinguishes

that animal. This, however, is not the case. The African elephant is

as docile and intelligent as that of Asia, and quite as capable of

being trained. The elephants which were used in the time of the ancient

Romans were brought from Africa, and yet we read of the most wonderful

feats which they could perform. Moreover, the African elephants which

have been in the Zoölogical Gardens for some years are quite as

tractable as the Asiatic animals. The real cause for the non-use of the

African elephant is, not its incapacity for domestication, but the lack

of capacity in the Africans to domesticate it.

In almost all cases of domesticated animals, the creatures are born in

captivity, so that they have never been accustomed to a wild life. The

Indian, however, does not trouble himself by breeding elephants, but

prefers to capture them when sufficiently grown to suit his purposes.

There are two modes of catching the elephant, one of which is so

ingenious that it deserves some description, however brief. A common

way is by making a large enclosure, called a “keddah,” and driving the

elephants into it. The keddah is so made, that when the elephants have

fairly entered it they cannot get out again, and are kept there until

subdued by hunger and thirst.

By this mode of elephant catching, the animals are taken in

considerable numbers, and of all sizes. The genuine elephant hunter,

however, cares little for this method, and prefers to pick out for

himself the best animals, the Indians being exceedingly particular

about their elephants, and an elephant having as many “points” as a

prize pigeon or rabbit.

In every herd of elephants the males are given to fighting with each

other for the possession of the females, and it often happens that a

male, who for some time has reigned supreme in the herd, is beaten

at last. Furious with rage and disappointment, he leaves the herd,

and ranges about by himself, destroying in his rage everything which

opposes him. In this state he is called a “rogue” elephant by the

English, and _saun_ by the natives. Now, furious and dangerous as is

the saun, he is always a splendid animal, scarcely inferior indeed to

the master elephant of the herd. The elephant hunters, therefore, are

always glad to hear of a saun, and take measures to capture so valuable

a prize.

They possess several female elephants, called “koomkies,” which are

used as decoys, and, strangely enough, take the greatest interest in

capturing the saun. When the hunter goes out on his expedition, he

takes with him at least two koomkies, and sometimes three, if the saun

should happen to be a very large one; and in all cases he takes care

that the koomkies shall not be much smaller than the saun.

The hunters, furnished with ropes and the other apparatus for securing

the saun, lie flat on the koomkies’ backs, cover themselves with a

large dark cloth, and proceed toward the place where the saun was

seen. Often the koomkies carry in their trunks branches of trees,

which they hold in such a manner as to prevent their intended captive

from seeing that they carry anything on their backs. The saun, seeing

them approach, loses some of his fury, and thinks that he is in great

good-fortune to meet with females over whom he can rule as he had done

before. He is so delighted with this idea that he fails to perceive

the hunters, who usually slip off behind a tree as they near him, but

sometimes boldly retain their post.

The koomkies then go up to the saun and begin to caress him, one on

each side, and sometimes another in front of him, when three decoys are

employed. They caress him, make much of him, and gradually bring him

near a stout tree, where they detain him. The hunters then creep under

the huge animal, and pass stout ropes round his forelegs, binding them

tightly together, being aided in this by the decoys, who place their

trunks so that their masters cannot be seen, and sometimes even assist

him by passing the rope when he cannot conveniently reach it. The

forelegs being secured, the hunter places round the elephant’s hindlegs

a pair of strong fetters. These are made of wood, and open with a hinge

of rope. They are studded inside with sharp iron spikes, and, when

clasped round the feet of the elephant, are fastened to the trunk of

the tree with strong ropes.

The elephant being now made fast, the hunters creep away, and are

followed by the koomkies, who receive their masters on their necks, and

go off, leaving the unfortunate saun to his fate. If he was furious

before, he is tenfold more so when he has to add to disappointment the

sense of confinement, and the knowledge that he has been tricked. He

screams with rage, tears branches off the tree, pulls up the grass by

the roots and flings it about, and even tries to break the rope which

holds him to the tree, or to pull up the tree itself by the roots. The

spikes with which the wooden fetters are lined give him such pain, that

he is soon forced to desist, and wearied out with pain and exertion,

he becomes more quiet. On the following day the same men and elephants

come to him, and bring him a little food; and so they go on until he

has learned first to endure, and afterward to desire their presence.

When they judge him to be sufficiently tamed, strong ropes are fastened

to his legs, and attached to the koomkies, and, the ligatures round

his feet being removed, he is marched off to his new quarters.

Sometimes he resists, on finding his limbs at liberty. In such a case

the koomkies drag him along by the ropes, while a large male pushes him

on from behind, sometimes using his tusks by way of spurs. When he has

been taken to his abode, he is treated with firm but kind discipline,

and is so effectually tamed, that in a few months after he was ranging

wild about the forest he may be seen assisting to convey a refractory

brother to his new home.

The intelligence of the koomkies is really wonderful, and they take

quite as much interest in the pursuit as their masters. Captain

Williams mentions an instance where a gentleman had purchased a

koomkie, not knowing her to be such. The mahout or driver would not

mention her capacity, because he very much preferred the ease and

comfort of a gentleman’s establishment to the dangers and hardships

of a hunter’s life. The wealthy natives of the neighborhood would not

mention it, because each of them hoped to buy the animal for himself at

a less price than would be asked for a koomkie.

One day the animal was missing, and did not return for several days.

However, she came back, and was harnessed as usual for a walk. When she

came to a certain spot, she became restive, and at last dashed into

the jungle, where she brought her master to a fine saun, whom she had

crippled by fastening a chain round his forelegs.

In Nepâl the natives adopt a very dangerous mode of elephant hunting.

They go to the hunt on elephants, and furnish themselves with very

strong ropes, one end of which is made fast to the body of the riding

elephant, and the other furnished with a slip-knot, to which is

attached a line, by which the noose can be relaxed. They give chase

to the herd, and, selecting a suitable animal, the hunter dexterously

flings the noose upon the head of the animal just behind its ears and

on its brows. The elephant instinctively curls up its trunk, whereupon

the noose slips fairly over its head.

The hunter then checks the pace of his animal, so that the noose is

drawn tightly round the neck of the captured elephant, and causes a

partial choking. His speed being checked, another hunter comes up and

flings a second noose, so that by their united force the captive can be

strangled if necessary. Sometimes, when he is very furious, the hunters

are obliged to render him insensible over and over again, before he can

be induced to obey his new masters. The well-known Nepâlese ambassador,

Jung Bahadûr, was celebrated for his skill and daring in this dangerous

sport.

As an example of the perfect command which the Indian mahouts have

over their animals, Captain Williams mentions an adventure which took

place at Chittagong. During a stormy night, an elephant got loose, and

escaped into the forest. Four years afterward, when a herd of elephants

was driven into a keddah, the mahout, who had climbed the palisades

to view the enclosed animals, thought that he recognized among them

his missing elephant. His comrades ridiculed him, but he persisted in

his idea, and called the animal by name. The elephant recognized the

voice of its driver, and came toward him. The man was so overjoyed at

this, that, regardless of the danger which he ran, he climbed over the

palisades, and called to the elephant to kneel down. The animal obeyed

him, he mounted on its neck, and triumphantly rode it out of the keddah.

Elephants are sometimes taken in pits, at the bottom of which are laid

bundles of grass in order to break the fall of the heavy animal. The

elephants are generally decoyed into these pits by a tame animal which

is guided close to the pit by the mahout, who has placed certain marks

by which he knows its exact locality. Sometimes they are merely dug

in the paths of the elephants, which fall into them in their nightly

rambles, and by their moanings inform the hunters of their proceedings.

In these pits they are forced to remain until they have been tamed by

hunger, just as is the case with those animals that are tied to the

trees. When they are sufficiently tame, the hunter throws into the pit

successive bundles of jungle grass. These the sagacious animal arranges

under his feet in such a way that he soon raises himself sufficiently

high to step upon the level earth, where he is received by the hunters

and his tame elephants. These “pitted” elephants, as they are called,

are not held in high estimation, as there is always danger that they

may have suffered some injury by the fall.

Just as tame elephants are brought to capture the wild animals, so are

tame stags taught to capture those of their own species. An account of

the sport is given in the “Private Life of an Eastern King”:--

“I have never heard of trained stags being employed elsewhere as I saw

them employed in Oude.... In our rides in the neighborhood of the lake,

near which we encamped, we lighted upon a fine open country adjoining

a forest, which would answer admirably for the purpose. The adjoining

wood was full of the smaller game of Oude, or, if not smaller, at all

events the more harmless, among which the wild deer must be classed as

one. Skilful beaters were sent off into the forest to drive the deer,

as if unintentionally,--that is, without violence, or making much

noise,--toward the point of the forest adjoining the open space which

I have just mentioned. Here, protected by its watching guardians, the

most warlike and powerful of its males, the herd was congregated in

apparent safety.

“We had about a dozen trained stags, all males, with us. These, well

acquainted with the object for which they were sent forward, advanced

at a gentle trot over the open ground toward the skirt of the wood.

They were observed at once by the watchers of the herd, and the boldest

of the wild animals advanced to meet them. Whether the intention was

to welcome them peaceably, or to do battle for their pasturage, I

cannot tell, but in a few minutes the parties were engaged in a furious

contest. Head to head, antlers to antlers, the tame deer and the wild

fought with great fury. Each of the tame animals, every one of them

large and formidable, was closely contested with a wild adversary,

standing chiefly on the defensive, not in any feigned battle or mimicry

of war, but in a hard-fought combat. We now made our appearance in the

open ground on horseback, advancing toward the scene of conflict. The

deer on the skirts of the wood, seeing us, took to flight, but those

actually engaged maintained their ground, and continued the contest.

“In the meantime a party of native huntsmen, sent for the purpose,

gradually drew near to the wild stags, getting in between them and the

forest. What their object was we were not at the time aware; indeed,

it was not one that we could have approved or encouraged. They made

their way to the rear of the wild stags, which were still combating

too fiercely to mind them; they approached the animals, and, with a

skilful cut of their long knives, the poor warriors fell hamstrung. We

felt pity for the noble animals as we saw them fall helplessly on the

ground, unable longer to continue the contest, and pushed down by the

tame stags. Once down, they were unable to rise again.

“The tame ones were called off in a moment; not one of them pursued his

victory. Their work was done; they obeyed the call of their keepers

almost at once, and were led off like hounds, some of them bearing

evidence in their gored chests that the contest in which they had been

engaged was no sham, but a reality. As we rode up we saw them led off,

triumphantly capering over the ground as if proud of their exploits,

tossing their fine spreading antlers about joyously, and sometimes

looking as if they would enjoy a little more fighting,--this time with

each other.”

The antelope is sometimes used in a similar manner. The largest and

most powerful male antelopes are trained for the purpose, and are sent

toward the herd with nooses fastened on their horns. The wild antelopes

soon come out to fight the intruders, and are caught by the nooses.

* * * * *

There is another sport of which the Indians are very fond, namely,

the chase of the deer by means of the chetah, or hunting leopard.

This animal is by no means the same species as the common leopard,

from which it is easily distinguished by its much larger legs, its

comparatively bushy tail, and a crest or ridge of hair along the neck.

It is not so much of a tree-climber as the common leopard, and though

it can ascend a tree, very seldom does so. Whether the common leopard

could be trained to catch deer is rather doubtful. The experiment has

not been tried, probably owing to the fact that the chetah performs its

part so well that there is no object in trying another animal.

Chetahs are very docile creatures, and, when tame, seem to be as fond

of notice as cats. This I can personally testify, having been in the

same cage with the animals at the Zoölogical Gardens, and found them

very companionable, even allowing me, though after some protest in the

way of growling and spitting, to take their paws in my hand, and push

out the talons.

Those which are used for the sport are led about by their attendants,

merely having a cord round their necks, and are so gentle that no one

is afraid to be near them. Lest, however, they might be irritated, and

in a moment of passion do mischief, they wear on their heads a sort of

hood, shaped something like the beaver of an ancient helmet. This hood

is generally worn on the back of the head, but if the keeper should

think that his charge is likely to be mischievous, he has only to slip

the hood over the eyes, and the animal is at once rendered harmless.

When the hunters go out in search of deer, the chetahs are taken on

little flat-topped carts, not unlike the costermongers’ barrows of our

streets. Each chetah is accompanied by its keeper, and is kept hooded

during the journey. When they have arrived within sight of deer, the

keeper unhoods the animal and points out the prey. The chetah instantly

slips off the cart, and makes its way toward the deer, gliding along on

its belly like a serpent, and availing itself of every bush and stone

by which it can hide its advance. When it can crawl no closer, it

marks out one deer, and springs toward it in a series of mighty bounds.

The horsemen then put their steeds to the gallop, and a most exciting

scene ensues.

The chase is never a very long one, for the chetah, though of wonderful

swiftness for a short distance, does not possess the conformation

needful for a long chase. Sometimes a chetah of peculiar excellence

will continue the chase for some little time, but, as a rule, a dozen

mighty bounds bring the animal to its prey. We all know the nature of

the cat tribe, and their great dislike to be interrupted while their

prey is in their grasp. Even a common cat has a strong objection to be

touched while she has a mouse in her mouth, and we may therefore wonder

how the keepers contrive to make the chetah relinquish its prey. This

is done either by cutting off part of the leg and giving it to the

chetah, or filling a ladle with its blood and allowing the leopard to

lap it. The hood is then slipped over the eyes, and the chetah allows

itself to be replaced in its cart.

Sometimes it is necessary to leave the cart, and lead the animal by

its chain toward the place where the animals are known to be. This is

always a difficult business, because the animal becomes so excited that

the least noise, or the scent left by a passing deer, will cause it to

raise its head aloft, and stare round for the deer. In a few moments it

would, become unmanageable, and dash away from its keeper, were not he

prepared for such an event. He carries with him a kind of ladle, made

of a hollowed cocoa-nut shell at the end of a handle. This is sprinkled

on the inside with salt, and as soon as the man perceives a change

of demeanor on the part of his charge, he puts the ladle over the

muzzle of the chetah. The animal licks the salt, forgets the cause of

excitement, and walks on quietly as before.

Some of the great men in India take considerable pride in their

chetahs, and have them paraded daily, covered with mantles of silk

heavily embroidered with gold, and wearing hoods of similarly rich

materials.

CHAPTER CLII.

TARTARY.

THE MANTCHU TARTARS.

MUTUAL INFLUENCE OF THE TARTARS AND CHINESE UPON EACH OTHER -- A

CHINESE BATTLE -- DASH AND COURAGE OF TARTAR HORSEMEN -- TARTAR

GUNNERS -- “CATCHING A TARTAR” -- THE BOW, AND MODE OF STRINGING IT

-- SYSTEMATIC TRAINING OF THE ARCHER -- THE TARTAR ARROW -- ATHLETIC

EXERCISES -- BLOODLESS CONQUEST OF THE TARTARS BY THE CHINESE.

We now proceed to the more civilized portions of the vast Mongolian

race, namely the Tartars, the Chinese, and the Japanese. It will of

course be impossible to give even the briefest account of the numerous

nations which have been called Tartars, and we will therefore confine

ourselves to the Mantchu Tartars, who have exercised so remarkable an

influence on the empire of China.

It has been well said, that when a strong people invade and conquer the

territory of a weaker, their conquest has a double effect. The victors

impose certain habits and modes of life upon the vanquished, and, in so

doing, generally strengthen them in those points where they are weak.

But, in return, the vanquished exert an influence upon their conquerors

which has precisely the opposite effect, and tends to diminish rather

than to increase their strength. So it has been with the Tartars and

the Chinese, whose history during the last few centuries has been

most instructive to the ethnologist,--I should rather say, to the

anthropologist.

Just as in one family we invariably find that there are members of very

different powers, and that the possessor of the stronger intellect

invariably obtains dominion over the others, so it has been with the

two great divisions of the Asiatic Mongols. The Tartar is in many

points superior to the Chinese, and, as a rule, is easily distinguished

even by his appearance. He possesses more decided features, is more

alert in his movements, and certainly possesses more courage. The

Chinese will fight wonderfully well behind walls, or on board ship, and

even in the field display great courage of a quiet nature if they are

led by European officers. But, when left to themselves, they are not

good soldiers in the field, unless opposed to enemies much inferior.

Mr. Scarth, who had the opportunity of witnessing a battle, describes

it as an absolute farce.

“One day, when a great many soldiers were out, I saw more of the

contest than was pleasant. Having got into the line of fire, I was

forced to take shelter behind a grave, the bullets striking the grave

from each side every second. Why they came my way it was difficult to

discover, for they ought to have passed on the other side of a creek,

about twenty yards distant, to the people they were intended for; but

to see the dodging of the soldiers, then of the rebels, each trying to

evade the other, was almost amusing.

“One fellow, ready primed and loaded, would rush up the side of a

grave-hillock, drop his matchlock over the top, and, without taking

aim, blaze away. There is no ramrod required for the shot they use; the

bullet, or bar of iron, is merely dropped in loose upon the powder.

“There was a fine scene on an occasion when the Shanghai rebels made

a sortie. One of the men was cut off by an imperial skirmisher, who

had his piece loaded. The rebel had no time to charge his; so he ran

round and round a grave, which was high enough to keep his enemy from

shooting him when on the opposite side. Hare hunting was nothing to it.

Red-cap described hosts of circles, and the royalist was fast getting

blown, when the gods took pity on his wind, for, by some unlucky

chance, the rebel tripped and fell. The soldier was at him in a

moment, and, to make sure of his prize, put the muzzle of his matchlock

close to Red-cap’s head, fired, and took to his heels as fast as he

could go. It is difficult to say who was most astonished, when Mr.

Red-cap did exactly the same! The bullet that dropped down readily on

the powder fell out as easily when the barrel was depressed. The rebel

got off with a good singeing of his long hair.”

The Tartars, however, are very different men in battle, as was

frequently proved during our wars in China; and though they were

comparatively ignorant of the art of war, and were furnished with

weapons that were mere toys in comparison with the arms to which

they were opposed, they showed themselves to be really formidable

antagonists. As irregular cavalry, they displayed an amount of dash

and courage which would make them most valuable allies, could they

be trained by European officers. They boldly charged in the face of

field-batteries of Armstrong guns, and, though the shells burst among

them with murderous precision, they came on in the most gallant manner.

Indeed, a British officer, who was opposed to them, said that scarcely

any regular cavalry would have advanced in the face of such a fire,

delivered from fifteen breech-loading guns. Of course, when they did

close, the superior discipline of their opponents prevailed against

them, and the Sikh cavalry of Probyn and Fane at once routed their

undisciplined ranks. But, had they been drilled and commanded by such

men as those who led the Sikh cavalry against them, the issue of the

fight might have been very different.

They served their guns with dauntless courage, and allowed themselves

to be cut to pieces by the Armstrong shell rather than leave them.

A single man would sometimes be seen working a gun by himself after

his comrades had been killed, and he expected the same fate every

moment; and it therefore happened, that of the slain in that war by far

the greatest number were Tartars. They are better horsemen than the

Chinese, and both themselves and their steeds are hardy, active, and

capable of existing on very little food. One of their peculiarities

is the method in which they carry the sword. Instead of hanging it to

the waist, and letting it bang against the horse’s side, they pass it

under the saddle-flap, where it is held tight by the pressure of the

leg. They thus avoid the jingle and swing of the European sabre, and

moreover are free from the drag of a heavy weapon upon the waist of the

rider.

Of the courage displayed by the Tartars under adverse circumstances, a

curious instance is given by Mr. M’Ghee. After one of the charges of

Probyn’s horse, the Tartar cavalry, in spite of their skill in evading

the thrust of a lance or the stroke of a sword, had suffered severe

loss, and many were stretched on the ground. Among them was the body of

a very powerful man, who had carried a handsome lance. As Mr. M’Ghee

found himself without arms, in a rather dangerous position, he thought

he would arm himself with the lance, and began to dismount.

As he took his foot from the stirrup, the supposed dead man sprang to

his feet, lance in hand, and showed fight. An officer just then rode to

the rescue with his revolver, and shot the Tartar in the back. The man

fell, but rose again, charged the officer with his lance, unhorsed him,

and made off, but was killed by a lance thrust from a Sikh horseman.

The fact was, his horse had been killed in battle, and he meant to

feign death until he could find an opportunity of slipping away. Even

the wounded men, knowing nothing of the amenities of civilized war, and

expecting no quarter, used to fire at the enemy when they lay writhing

with pain on the ground.

These Tartar soldiers are commanded by a general belonging to their own

people, and his immediate subordinate is almost invariably a Tartar

also. The office of Tartar general is one of great importance, because,

as the Emperor is always of a Tartar family, it is thought that the

safety of his person and dynasty ought to be confided not to a Chinese,

but to a Tartar. The lieutenant-general, who serves under him, though

his post is perhaps the least lucrative in the Imperial household, is

glad to hold the appointment, because he is usually selected to succeed

to the generalship.

The chief weapons of these soldiers are the bow and the spear, the

sword and fire-arms playing a comparatively subordinate part. Being

good riders, they naturally take to the spear, the true weapon of a

horseman, and are drilled in the various modes of delivering a thrust,

and of avoiding one, the latter feat being performed with a dexterity

almost equalling that of a Camanchee Indian. Although they carry

fire-arms with them, they really place little dependence on the heavy,

clumsy weapons which they use, that require two men to fire them, and

generally knock down the firer by the recoil. Nor do they care very

much for the improved fire-arms of Europeans, for, as one warrior said,

guns get out of order, spears and swords do not.

The bow of the Tartar (which has spread throughout all China) is

much on the principle of the reversed bows which have already been

described, though the curve is not so continuous. The bow is nearly

straight for the greater part of its length, and then takes an abrupt

curve within a foot or so of each end. One of these bows, in my

collection, is nearly six feet in length, and measures two inches in

width. About seven inches from each end, a broad piece of bone nearly

an inch in length is fixed to the bow, so that the string passes over

it, and does not strike against the wood.

The strength of these bows is enormous, varying, according to our mode

of reckoning, from sixty to ninety pounds. The weapon is strung in

manner somewhat resembling that which has already been described in

connection with Indian bows. It must be done in a moment, or not at

all, and the only method of doing so is, by placing it behind the right

thigh and in front of the left, and then bending it with a sudden stoop

of the body, at the same time slipping the loop of the string into

its notch. My own weapon is so powerful that I can scarcely make any

impression upon it, though I have used my best efforts.

The soldiers undergo a vast amount of practice in the use of this

weapon, of which they are as proud as were the English archers of their

long-bow and cloth-yard arrow. They have a saying, that the first and

most important duty of a soldier is to be a good archer, and that a man

ought even to sleep with a bow in his hands. In order to instruct them

in the proper attitude of an archer, they have invented a simple piece

of machinery, by means of which the soldier undergoes a vast amount of

“position drill,” so that he may learn to keep his body straight and

firm, his shoulders immovable, and his hands in the right position.

From a beam or branch are suspended two rings, which can be moved up

and down, to suit the height of the learner. The young archer places

his hands in the rings as far as the wrists, and then goes through the

various movements of the weapon. When he can satisfy his instructor, a

bow is placed in his hands, and he then practises the art of drawing

the string to its proper tension. Lastly, he has an arrow besides, and

shoots it repeatedly. The head of the arrow is blunted, and the target

is a piece of stout leather, hung loosely at a little distance, so that

it partially yields to the arrow, and allows the missile to fall to the

ground.

The arrow corresponds to the bow. One of these missiles in my

collection is three feet three inches in length. It is made of some

light wood, and is terminated by a flat, spear-shaped head, two inches

long and one inch wide. The other end of the arrow is expanded, so as

to allow a large “nock” for the reception of the thick string, and is

bound with fish-skin as far as the feathers, which are exactly a foot

in length. The shaft is extremely slight in comparison with the length

of the arrow.

These men train their muscular powers to a great extent, and have

several exercises for this purpose. One of them is called Suay-tau, or

throwing the weight. They have a nearly square stone, weighing rather

more than fifty pounds, and having a handle in a hollow cut in its

upper surface.

The men mark out a square on the ground, and the players stand at some

distance apart. One of them takes the stone, swings it once or twice,

and hurls it in the air toward the next player. It is thrown with such

skill that the hollow always comes uppermost, and the stone descends

into the hand with a shock that makes the man spin round on his heels.

The same movement, however, is utilized to give force to the stone;

and so the players pass this heavy weight from one to the other with

apparent ease, and with the regularity of a machine. A similar exercise

is conducted with a heavy sand-bag.

It may easily be imagined how such men would vanquish in battle the

comparatively sluggish Chinese, and how they would impose upon them

many of their manners and customs. But, though they succeeded in their

conquest, though they changed the dress of the Chinese, though they

placed a Tartar monarch on the throne, and though they have been the

chief military power in China, they have themselves suffered a far

severer, though slower, conquest at the hands of the vanquished.

The Chinese, being essentially a contemplative and intellectual nation,

care very little for military ability, so that the lowest civil

mandarin feels a thorough contempt for the highest military mandarin,

because the active life of the latter precludes him from following up

those peculiar studies which can raise a Chinese from the state of a

peasant to that of the highest in the land. Especially do the Chinese

despise their intellectual capacities, though they may appreciate and

utilize their bodily strength and military prowess. “The Tartars,” said

a Chinese shopkeeper, “are cows.”

The extraordinary reaction of the vanquished upon their conquerors is

admirably put by Mr. Fleming, in his “Travels on Horseback in Mantchu

Tartary.”

“By dint of their extraordinary industry, thrifty habits, an unceasing

desire to accumulate wealth by any amount of plodding, cunning, or

hardship, the Chinaman has wormed himself beyond the Great Wall, built

towns and villages, cultivated every rood of land, and is at once the

farmer and the trader everywhere. He claims the best part of Mantchuria

as his own, and dares even to scandalize the Tartar race in their own

capital, though it is barely two centuries since that race filed in

long cavalry troops through those gates at Shan-kis-Kwan, and were

introduced by an indiscreet Chinese general to the vast empire which

they soon conquered and sternly governed.

“Now the Chinese seem the conquerors, for they have not only obtained

possession of the land, and converted it into a region thoroughly

Chinese, but they have imposed their language, their habits and

customs, and every trait belonging to them, on those of the original

occupants who choose to mix with them, and ousted out every grim old

banner-man who would not condescend to shopkeeping, or handling the

spade or plough.

“There is not the most trifling Mantchu word to designate town, hamlet,

mountain, or river, in use among the people nowadays, and anything

that might at all tell of the character and power of the original

proprietors is entirely effaced. If the Mantchus obtained possession

of the Dragon Throne at Pekin, partly by force of arms in military

prowess, and partly by perfidy, aided by rebellions among the Chinese

themselves; if they compelled the hundreds of millions over whom they

found cause to rule to alter their dress, wear tails, and perhaps

smoke tobacco,--the people thus subjugated have made ample retaliation

by wiping out every trace of their invaders in their own country,

and leaving the existence of the usurpers all but traditionary in

the metropolis where, two hundred years ago, they held their court,

and where one of their kings boldly vowed vengeance for seven great

grievances that he imagined had been brought on him by the Chinese

Emperor.

“Nothing prevents the invasion of the Corea by these wonderful Chinese

but the high palisade that keeps them within the limits of Mantchuria.

For, if once they got a footing in that country, the Coreans would

suffer the same fate as the Mantchus, and there is no telling when

these sons of Ham would stop in their bloodless aggrandizement and

territorial acquisitiveness.”

[Illustration: REPEATING CROSSBOW. (From my Collection.) (See page

1434.)]

CHAPTER CLIII.

CHINA.

APPEARANCE--DRESS--FOOD.

APPEARANCE OF THE CHINESE -- MODE OF PLAITING THE “TAIL” -- THE

CHINESE BARBER -- THE REFUSE HAIR AND ITS USES -- CEREMONIOUS

EMPLOYMENT OF THE TAIL -- DRESSING THE HAIR OF THE WOMEN -- MUTUAL

ASSISTANCE -- POWDER FOR THE SKIN, AND MODE OF APPLYING IT -- SMALL

FEET OF THE CHINESE WOMEN -- ORIGIN AND DATE OF THE CUSTOM OF

COMPRESSING THE FEET -- DRESS OF THE WOMEN -- DRESS OF THE MEN --

THE “BUTTON” OF RANK -- SYSTEM OF EXAMINATION -- INGENIOUS MODES OF

EVASION -- EXCEPTION IN FAVOR OF OLD AGE -- THE FAN AND ITS VARIOUS

USES -- CHINESE LANTERNS -- THE “STALKING-HORSE LANTERN” -- FEAST OF

LANTERNS -- THE GREAT DRAGON -- CHOPSTICKS, AND THE MODE OF USING

THEM -- THE CASE OF CHOPSTICKS -- FOOD OF THE CHINESE -- LIVING CRABS

-- BIRDS’-NEST SOUP -- TEA, AND MODE OF PREPARATION.

We now come to China, a country of such extent, so thickly populated,

and containing so many matters of interest, that justice could not be

fully done if an entire volume were devoted to it. We will therefore

restrict ourselves to a selection of those particulars in which the

Chinese appear to offer the greatest contrast to Europeans.

The appearance of the Chinese possess many of the characteristics of

the Tartar, both nations being different branches of the same great

family. The Chinese, however, are, as a rule, of a less determined and

manly cast than the Tartars, and have about them a sort of effeminacy

which accounts for the conquest suffered at their hands.

One of the chief peculiarities in a Chinaman’s appearance is his

“tail.” This mode of dressing the hair was imposed upon the Chinese by

the Tartars, and has remained in full force ever since. The Tae-ping

rebels, however, viewing the “tail” as an ignominious sign of conquest,

refuse to wear it, and allow the whole of their hair to grow.

With the loyal Chinese, however, the tail has become quite an

institution, and they regard it with the same sort of reverence which

is felt by an Arab, a Turk, or a Persian for his beard. It is scarcely

possible to punish a Chinaman more severely than by cutting off his

tail, and, though he may supply its place with an artificial tail

curiously woven into the hair, he feels the indignity very keenly.

Sometimes, when two men are to be punished severely, they are tied

together by their tails, and exposed to the derision of the public.

The tail bears some resemblance to the scalp-lock of the American

Indian, but it includes very much more hair than is comprehended in

the scalp-lock. The Chinaman shaves the hair from his forehead and

round the temples, but leaves a circular patch of tolerable size, the

hair of which is allowed to grow to its full length. Sometimes, if the

patch be not large enough to nourish a sufficient quantity of hair to

produce a good tail, it is enlarged by allowing more and more hair to

grow at each successive shaving. On an average, the head is shaved once

in ten days, and no one would venture to go into good society unless

the hair of his head were clean shaven. As for his face, he has so few

hairs upon it, that he does not trouble the barber very much with his

countenance.

Owing to the position of the tail, a man cannot dress it properly

without aid, and, chiefly for this purpose, the peripatetic barber has

become quite an institution in China. All the materials of his trade

are carried at the ends of a bamboo pole, which the barber carries in

yoke fashion across his shoulders. When his services are required, he

puts down his load, arranges his simple apparatus in a few moments, and

sets to work upon the cherished tail of his customer.

Very little capital is required to set up a barber in trade. There is

the razor, a most primitive triangle of steel, two inches long by one

inch wide, which cost, perhaps, three half-pence, or twopence if it be

of the best kind. There is the linen strop, which costs a penny, and a

bamboo seat and table, which cost, perhaps, twopence each. There is one

expensive article, namely, the brass basin, but, as a rule, a Chinese

barber can be well set up in trade at the expenditure of about six or

seven shillings, and can make a good living by his business. This sum

includes a supply of black silk, wherewith to supplement the tails of

his customers, and a few locks of real hair, with which he can supply

artificial tails in cases where they are denied by nature.

The customer always holds a sort of basin in which to catch the

clippings of hair. These are preserved, not from any superstitious

ideas, as is the case in many parts of the world, but are put aside

for the hair collector, who makes his daily rounds with his basket oil

his back. The contents of the basket are carefully utilized. The long

hair combed from women’s heads is separated and made into false tails

for the men, while the short pieces shaven from men’s heads are used as

manure, a tiny pinch of hair being inserted into the ground with each

seed or plantlet. In consequence of the universal practice of shaving

the head and wearing a tail, the number of barbers is very great, and

in 1858 they were said to exceed seven thousand in Canton alone.

The right management of the tail is, among the Chinese, what the

management of the hat is among ourselves. For example, it is a mark

of respect to allow the tail to hang at full length, and any one who

ventured to address an equal without having his tail hanging down his

back would be thought as boorish as would an Englishman who went into

a lady’s drawing-room without removing his hat. When the people are at

work, they always coil the cherished tail round their heads, so as to

get it out of the way; but if a man of superior rank should happen to

pass, down go all the tails at once.

[Illustration: MUTUAL ASSISTANCE.]

During the late war in China, the common people soon found that the

English, in their ignorance of Chinese customs, did not trouble

themselves whether the tails hung down their backs or were twisted

round their heads. Accordingly, Oriental-like, they took advantage

of this ignorance, and, though they would lower their tails for the

meanest official who happened to pass near them, they made no sign even

when an English general came by. However, one of the English officers

discovered this _ruse_, and every now and then one of them used to go

through the streets and compel every Chinaman to let down his tail.

The tail is never entirely composed of the hair of the wearer.

Sometimes it is almost wholly artificial, a completely new tail being

fixed to a worn-out stump, and, as a general rule, the last eighteen

inches are almost entirely made of black silk. Besides being a mark

of fashion, the tail is often utilized. A sailor, for example, will

tie his hat to his head with his tail when the wind rises, and a

schoolmaster sometimes uses his tail in lieu of a cane.

Absurd as the tail looks when worn by any except a Chinese or Tartar,

it certainly does seem appropriate to their cast of countenance, and it

is to be doubted whether the Tartar conquerors did not confer a benefit

instead of inflicting an injury on the Chinese by the enforcement of

the tail.

The hair of the women is not shaven, but on the contrary, additions

are made to it. While they are unmarried, it hangs down the back in a

long queue, like that of the men; but when they marry, it is dressed

in various fantastic forms. There is a very fashionable ornament in

China, called the “butterfly’s wings.” This is a quantity of false

hair made in fanciful imitation of a huge butterfly, and fastened to

the back of a woman’s head. Fashions, however, vary in different parts

of China, and even in the same locality the women are not tied to the

absolute uniformity which distinguishes the hair of the men. One mode

of hair-dressing which is very prevalent makes the hair look very much

like a teapot, the long tresses being held in their place by a strong

cement made from wood shavings. Another mode of hair-dressing which

prevails in Northern China is thus described by Mr. Fleming: “Here it

is dressed and gummed in the form of an ingot of sycee silver, which is

something in shape like a cream-jug, or an oval cup, wide at the top

and narrow at the bottom, with a piece scooped out of the edge at each

side, and with bright-colored flowers fastened by, or stuck about with

skewers and pins, that stand out like porcupine quills. Though their

necks be ever so dirty, and their faces not much better, yet the hair

must be as exquisitely trimmed and plastered, according to the local

rage, as that in a wax model seen in a London barber’s shop-window.”

In the accompanying illustration two women are shown, who render aid to

each other in arranging their hair after the “teapot” fashion. In the

households of Chinese women, dressing-cases are considered almost the

chief requisites of life. In the drawers are the combs, pins, and paint

for the cheeks and lips, and the white powder which is rubbed into the

skin. This powder is made from white marble, which is broken small

with a hammer, and then thrown into a tub in which revolve two stones

turned by a buffalo, just like the wheels which are used in making

gunpowder. The coarsely ground mass is then transferred, together with

water, to a second mill, in which it is reduced to a mixture like

cream. This creamy substance is then levigated in a succession of tubs,

the sediment of which is taken out and returned to the mill, and the

remainder is allowed to settle, the superfluous water drawn off, and

the sediment pressed, while still moist, into cakes.

When used it is not only rubbed on the skin, but actually worked into

it with string, which is placed on the hands in a sort of cat’s-cradle,

and worked backward and forward until the required effect is produced.

This powder is also used to give rice a factitious whiteness. The

coarser portions are employed for making whitewash and whitening mortar.

Many of the Chinese of both sexes are remarkable for the great length

to which they allow their nails to grow. This is supposed to be a sign

of rank or literary occupation, inasmuch as the nails would be broken

by any laborious work. For this purpose, they are kept carefully oiled

to prevent them from being brittle, and are further preserved by being

enclosed in tubes which slip over the end of the finger. These tubes

are sometimes of bamboo, sometimes of silver, and a few of the most

precious minerals.

The feet of the Chinese women are often more strangely decorated

than their heads. A vast number of the women have their feet cramped

by bandages into a state which renders them little better than mere

pegs on which to walk, or rather totter. It is not only the rich who

are thus deformed, but the poorest often have their feet cramped.

The operation is begun at a very early age, so that the feet of the

full-grown woman may not exceed in size that of a child of five or

six. Bandages are bound firmly round the foot in such a way as to

force it into an arched shape, the heel being pressed forward and the

ball of the foot backward, while the four middle toes are bent under

the foot, and so completely squeezed into its substance that they

almost lose their identity. In fact, the member is made artificially

into a club-foot, which, repugnant as it may be to European eyes, is

the delight of the Chinese, who call it metaphorically by the name of

“golden lily.”

[Illustration: CHINESE WOMAN’S FOOT AND MODEL OF A SHOE.

(From my collection.)]

Clay models of these “golden lilies” are sold at many of the shops;

and as they are very accurate imitations of the foot, and it is almost

impossible to induce a Chinese woman to remove the bandages and exhibit

the member, a representation of one of these models is here given. The

gait of the woman is necessarily reduced to an awkward waddle. There is

no play of the beautiful machinery of the human foot, and the wearer of

the “golden lily” walks exactly as she would do if she had no feet at

all. Indeed, her gait is even more awkward, inasmuch as the weight of

the body is thrown forward upon the great toe, than which nothing can

be imagined more opposed to the real intention of the foot.

Fast walking is impossible with these feet, and running is out of the

question, the women being obliged to support themselves by holding

to walls or other objects, or to balance themselves by holding out

their arms at right angles to their bodies. Indeed, even when walking

quietly in the house, the woman generally leans on the various articles

of furniture as she passes them, the act appearing to be instinctive,

and one of which she is not conscious. Stairs are of course a

difficulty in the way of “golden lilies.” Fortunately, there are not

many stairs in a Chinese dwelling-house, the living rooms of which

are mostly on the ground floor. I have noticed that a small-footed

Chinawoman can ascend stairs easily enough, but that she always holds

by the banisters or wall as she descends.

The deformity in question does not end with the foot. As the toes and

ankles are deprived of motion, the muscles which work them, and which

form the calf of the leg, gradually dwindle away for want of use, so

that from the ankle to the knee the leg is scarcely thicker than a

broomstick.

Utterly hideous as is this deformity, it is coveted by all, and those

who do not possess it try to look as if they did. This they achieve

by making an artificial “golden lily” of wood, putting it into a

fashionable shoe, and fastening the contrivance on the sole of the real

and serviceable foot. Mr. Milne remarks that a nurse, if called up

suddenly in the night, will make her appearance walking firmly on her

full-sized bare feet, instead of hobbling along with the fashionable

waddle which she has been exhibiting by day. By a similar _ruse_, the

boys who enact female parts on the stage imitate not only the feet but

the peculiar walk of the women, and do it with such perfection that no

one who was not in the secret would have the least idea that they are

not what they pretend to be.

Of the origin or date of the custom nothing is known, though there are

various legends which attempt to account for both. One legend, for

example, attributes it to an empress of China named Tan-key, who lived

some three thousand years ago, and who, having club feet by nature,

induced her husband to impose the same deformity on all his female

subjects. Another legend states that a certain empress was discovered

in the chamber of a courtier, and laid the fault on her feet, which

carried her against her will. The emperor accepted the excuse, but cut

off the fore-part of her feet in order to render them more subordinate

for the future. Another legend, which is a very popular one, attributes

the custom to a certain prince named Le-yuh, who in consequence was

condemned to seven hundred years’ torture in the infernal regions, and

to make with his own hands one million shoes for the women.

The dress of the Chinese varies greatly according to the rank of the

individual and the season of the year. Without going into detail,

which would occupy too much time, it is sufficient to say that the

principle of the dress is similar, not only among different classes,

but with the two sexes, the coat and trousers being the principal

articles, modified in material and form according to circumstances.

The dress of a mandarin or noble, and of his wife, may be seen in the

illustration on the 1437th page. The richness of material and beauty of

work displayed in some of these dresses are really marvellous. They are

generally of the most delicate silks, and are covered with embroidery

of such harmonious coloring and exquisite workmanship as no country can

equal.

It is not, however, the richness of dress which denotes rank among the

Chinese. The symbol of social status is simply a spherical “button,”

about as large as a boy’s playing marble, placed on the apex of the

cap. The different colors and materials of the buttons designate the

rank, the “blue ribbon” being a plain red coral button. The possession

of these buttons is an object of high ambition for the Chinese, and

its value is increased by the fact that there is no hereditary rank in

China, and that the coveted button must be earned, and can neither be

purchased nor given by favor.

It can only be gained by passing through a series of examinations,

each increasing in severity, and no candidate for high rank being

permitted to compete unless he can show the certificate that he has

gained the rank immediately below it. The examinations are conducted

in a building expressly made for the purpose. It has double walls,

between which sentinels are continually pacing. The gates are watched

in the strictest manner, and each candidate is locked into a tiny cell,

after having undergone the strictest search in order to ascertain that

he has not carried in any scrap of writing that may help him in the

examination.

The examiners themselves are conveyed from a distance, and surrounded

by troops, so that no one can approach them; and so careful are the

officers who conduct the examination that the examiners are not

allowed to see the original passages written by the candidates, but

only copies made by official scribes. When they have passed a paper as

satisfactory, the original is produced, the two are compared, and not

until then does any one know the name of the writer, which has been

pasted between two leaves.

The precautions are most stringent, but the ingenuity exercised in

evasion sometimes conquers all the barriers set up between a candidate

and external assistance. Sometimes a man, already a graduate, will

manage to substitute himself for the candidate, write all the essays,

and contrive a second change on leaving the place, so that the real

candidate takes up the substituted essays. Sometimes a friend within

the building will learn the subject of the essays, write them in tiny

characters on very thin paper, enclose the paper in wax, and drop it

into the water which is supplied to the candidates. One man of peculiar

daring hit on the plan of getting a friend to tunnel under the walls of

the college, and push the required documents through the floor of the

cell. Should any such attempt be discovered, the candidate is at once

ejected, and disqualified from a second attempt.

The Chinese have good reason to be ambitious of the honors of a button,

as even the very lowest button exempts the wearer from military service

and from arrest by the police. The bearer of this coveted symbol

becomes at once one of the privileged classes; he wears an official

costume when he likes, and is qualified to enter as candidate for still

higher honors. Such privileges are worth much trouble to obtain, and

accordingly the rejected candidates will enter the examination year

after year, even until they are gray-headed. With the respect for old

age which is one of the most pleasing characteristics of the Chinese,

there is a law that if a man should attend the examinations annually

until he is eighty years of age, and still be unable to pass, he is

invested with an honorary degree, and may wear the button and official

dress _honoris causâ_. The same rule holds good with the higher degrees.

The very highest posts in the kingdom are denoted by a peacock’s

feather, which falls down the side of the cap. The gradations in rank

of the feather wearers are marked by the number of “eyes” in the

ornament, the summit of a Chinaman’s ambition being to wear a feather

with three eyes, denoting a rank only inferior to that of the Emperor.

There is one article common to all ranks and both sexes, and equally

indispensable to all. This is the fan, an article without which

a Chinaman is never seen. The richer people carry the fan in a

beautifully embroidered case hung to their girdles; but the poorer

class content themselves with sticking it between the collar of the

jacket and the back of the neck. Whenever the hand is not actually

at work on some task, the fan is in it, and in motion, not violently

agitated, as is mostly the case in Europe, but kept playing with a

gentle, constant, and almost imperceptible movement of the wrist, so as

to maintain a continuous though slight current of air.

Sometimes, in very hot weather, a stout mandarin will quietly lift up

the skirts of his jacket, place his fan under the garment, and send a

current of cool air round his body; and this done, he drops the skirts

afresh into their place, and directs the refreshing breeze over his

countenance. Sometimes it is used by way of a parasol, the man holding

it over his head as he walks along. Sometimes the schoolmaster uses it

by way of a ferule, and raps his pupils unmercifully on the knuckles;

and so inveterate is the use of the fan, that soldiers, while serving

their guns, have been observed quietly fanning themselves in the midst

of a brisk fire of shot, shell, and bullets.

The materials and patterns of Chinese fans are innumerable. They are

made of paper, silk, satin, palm-leaf, wood, feathers, horn, or ivory.

Some of them are made so that when they are opened from left to right

they form very good fans, but when spread from right to left all the

sticks fall apart, and look as if they never could be united again.

Those which are made of paper have various patterns painted or printed

on them, and thousands are annually sold on which are complete maps of

the larger Chinese cities, having every street and lane marked. Those

which are made of silk or satin are covered with the most exquisite

embroidery; while the horn and ivory fans are cut into patterns so

slight and so delicate that they look more like lace than the material

of which they really are composed. The wooden fans are made in much the

same way, though the workmanship is necessarily coarser: the material

of these fans is sandal-wood, the aromatic odor of which is much prized

by the Chinese.

Choice sentences and aphorisms from celebrated authors are often

written on the fan; and it is the custom for Chinese gentlemen to

exchange autographs written on each other’s fans. The price of these

fans varies according to the material and workmanship, common ones

being worth about four or five for a penny, while a first-class fan

will cost several pounds.

The lantern is almost as characteristic of the Chinese as the fan,

inasmuch as every one who goes abroad after dark is obliged by law to

carry a lantern, whereas he need not carry a fan unless he chooses.

These lanterns have of late years become very common in England,

the subdued light which they give through their colored envelopes

having a very pretty effect at night, especially in conservatories.

There is a wonderful variety of these lanterns, some of them being

most complicated in structure, enormous in size, and hung round with

an intricate arrangement of scarlet tassels. Others are made of a

balloon-like shape, the framework being a delicate net of bamboo, over

which is spread a sheet of very thin paper saturated with varnish, so

that it is nearly as transparent as glass. Figures of various kinds are

painted upon the lantern, and so great is the sale of these articles,

that many artists make a good living by painting them. Generally, when

a man buys a lantern, he purchases a plain one, and then takes it to

the painter to be decorated. The name of the owner is often placed upon

his lantern, together with his address, and sometimes the lantern is

used as a representative of himself.

Many of the lanterns shut up flat, on the principle of the fan; some of

them open out into cylinders, and some into spherical and oval shapes.

One of the most ingenious of these articles is the “stalking-horse

lantern,” which is only used for festivals. It is of large size, and

contains several tapers. Above the tapers is a horizontal paddle-wheel,

which is set revolving by the current of air caused by the flame, and

from the wheel silk threads are led to a series of little automaton

figures of men, women, birds, beasts, etc., all of which move their

arms, legs, and wings as the wheel runs round. A good specimen of this

lantern is really a wonderful piece of work, the threads crossing each

other in the most complicated style, but never getting out of order.

So completely is the Chinaman a lantern-carrying being, that, during

our war in China, when a battery had been silenced by our fire in a

night attack, and the garrison driven out, the men were seen running

away in all directions, each with a lighted lantern in his hand, as if

to direct the aim of the enemy’s musketry.

In connection with this subject, the celebrated Feast of Lanterns must

not be omitted. In this remarkable ceremony, every lantern that can be

lighted seems to be used, and the Chinese on this occasion bring out

the complicated “stalking-horse lantern” which has just been described.

The chief object, however, is the Great Dragon. The body of the Dragon

is made of a number of lanterns, each as large as a beer barrel, and

having large candles fastened within it. Nearly a hundred of these

joints are sometimes used in the construction of a single Dragon,

each joint being tied to its neighbor, so as to keep them at the same

distance from each other. At one end is an enormous head with gaping

jaws, and at the other is a tail of proportionate dimensions.

This Dragon is carried through the streets and villages, and has a most

picturesque effect as it goes winding along its course, the bearers

contriving to give it an undulating movement by means of the sticks to

which the different joints are attached. A similar festival is held

in the autumn. Accompanying the Dragon are a number of men dressed in

various fantastic ways, as representations of the attendants of the

gods. Some of them have heads like oxen, others like horses, and they

are all armed with curious pronged weapons. Then there are simulated

giants and dwarfs, the former being carried on the shoulders of men

whose legs are concealed by the robes of the image, and the latter by

boys whose heads are received into the hats which the images wear. In

neither instance do the bearers trouble themselves to conceal their

faces.

Various ceremonies of a like nature are enacted, of which no

description can be given for want of space.

* * * * *

Of the Chinaman’s social habits none has been more widely known

than the use of the “chopsticks,” or the two little rods by means

of which the solid food is eaten. This is not the Chinese name, but

is one invented by foreigners, who have employed the term as a sort

of equivalent for the “kwai-tsze,” or nimble-lads, as they are very

appropriately termed by the Chinese. Originally they were simply two

slips of bamboo, but now they are of wood, bone, ivory, or sometimes

silver. Two pairs of chopsticks in my collection are nearly ten inches

in length, and about as thick at the base as a small goose-quill,

tapering gradually to half the thickness at the tip.

Much misunderstanding prevails as to the use of the chopsticks, many

persons supposing that they are held one in each hand, after the manner

of knives and forks in Europe. These curious implements are both held

in the right hand after the following manner: One of them is taken much

as a pen is held, except that, instead of being held by the thumb and

forefinger, it passes between the tips of the second and third fingers.

This chopstick is always kept stationary. The second chopstick is held

lightly between the thumb and forefinger, and can be worked so as to

press with its tip against the point of the other, and act after the

manner of pincers.

The adroitness displayed by the Chinese in the use of these implements

is worthy of all admiration. I have seen them pick up single grains of

rice with the chopsticks, dip them in soy, and carry them to the mouth

with perfect precision; and, indeed, after some few lessons, I could do

it tolerably well myself. In eating rice after the usual manner, the

tips of the chopsticks are crossed, and the rice lifted with them as if

on a spoon. If, however, the man be very hungry, he does not trouble

himself about such refinement, but holds the bowl to his lips, and

scoops the rice into his mouth with a celerity that must be seen to be

believed. In point of speed a spoon would be nothing compared with the

chopstick.

The reader must understand that the Chinese never carve at table,

thinking that to do so is an utterly barbarous and disgusting custom.

The meat is brought to table ready cut up into small morsels, which can

be taken up with the chopsticks. The only use made of a knife at table

is to separate any small pieces of meat that may adhere together; and

for this purpose, a narrow, long-bladed knife is generally kept in the

same sheath with the chopstick.

As a rule, every Chinaman who can afford so cheap a luxury has his

chopstick-case hanging from his girdle. The case is made of different

materials, such as shagreen, tortoise shell, and ivory. Specimens of

the two latter kinds of case are in my collection. The ordinary case

contains the two chopsticks, the knife, and a flat ivory toothpick.

Sometimes, however, a wealthy man will carry a much more complicated

set of table apparatus. Besides the usual chopsticks, the knife,

and the toothpick, there is a spoon for eating soup, a neat little

quatrefoil saucer for soy, and a peculiar two-pronged fork, with its

prongs united in the middle by a floriated ornament.

As to the food of the Chinese, it varies according to the wealth of

the individual, so that a man of property would not think of eating

the food which the poor man thinks luxurious. In fact, it is much the

same as with ourselves, so that it is impossible to make the dietary

of one station the sample for that of the nation in general. There

are, perhaps, one or two articles of food which ought to be casually

mentioned. One, which is not generally known, is rather graphically

described by Mr. Milne: “Like other Chinese, he” (_i. e._ a Chinese

officer named Le) “invited me to dine with him on an early day after

our acquaintance was formed. On this occasion I met at his table with a

peculiar dish, which I had never seen under the roof of any other host,

though I was informed that it was not a monopoly of Mr. Le’s taste.

“When our party of six had seated themselves at the centre table, my

attention was attracted by a covered dish, something unusual at a

Chinese meal. On a certain signal, the cover was removed, and presently

the face of the table was covered with juvenile crabs, which made

their exodus from the dish with all possible rapidity. The crablets

had been thrown into a plate of vinegar just as the company sat down,

such an immersion making them more brisk and lively than usual. But

the sprightly sport of the infant crabs was soon checked by each guest

seizing which he could, dashing it into his mouth, and swallowing the

whole morsel without ceremony.

“Determined to do as the Chinese did, I tried this novelty also with

one. With two I succeeded, finding the shell soft and gelatinous,

for they were tiny creatures, not more than a day or two old. But

I was compelled to give in to the third, who had resolved to take

vengeance, and gave my lower lip a nip so sharp and severe as to make

me relinquish my hold, and likewise desist from any further experiment

of this nature.”

The celebrated birds’-nests, which the Chinese convert into soup,

are not, as some persons seem to think, made of sticks, and straws,

and wool, but are formed from the gelatinous substance obtained by

masticating a sort of seaweed. The nests are transparent, as if made of

gelatine, and when placed in hot water they dissolve as readily. The

nest, when dissolved, is very much like the well-known “Irish moss,”

or carrageen; and I fully believe that, if the Chinese were to obtain

the seaweed itself, and prepare it like the nests, it would answer

every purpose. I possess specimens both of the seaweed and the nest,

and, after tasting both, have found them to be identical in flavor

and consistence. And, as the seaweed might be obtained for about ten

shillings per hundredweight, and the finest kind of nest costs eight

hundred pounds for the same amount, the importation of the seaweed

instead of the nests from Java might be a good speculation.

With regard to the great staple of the country, namely tea, very little

can be said here. In the first place, the public is very well informed

on the subject, and, in the next, the tea question is so large that it

would occupy far too great space. The mode of preparing tea differs

much from that practised by ourselves. Instead of allowing the tea to

be made and then to stand for a considerable time, the Chinaman puts

a little tea into a cup, pours boiling _rain_-water on it, inverts

the saucer over it, so as to prevent the aroma from escaping, and

drinks it immediately, using the saucer as a strainer whereby to keep

the tea-leaves out of his mouth. As to adulterating the tea with such

abominations as cream and sugar, he would be horrified at the idea. The

Chinese never use milk for themselves, though of late years they have

learned to milk their buffaloes for the service of the foreigner, and

they consume sugar in almost every shape except in tea.

We who use either of these accessories cannot understand the true

flavor of tea, the aroma of which is as much destroyed by such

admixture as would be that of the choicest wine. Even those who do

not spoil their tea in the usual manner can seldom know what the best

tea is, because it is never sent to this country. Not in China can

a foreigner purchase it, as it is not made for general sale, but is

reserved for “cumshaws,” or presents.

CHAPTER CLIV.

CHINA--_Continued_.

WARFARE.

WEAPONS OF THE CHINESE -- BREECH-LOADING CANNON -- VARIOUS FORMS OF

THE JINGALL -- CHINESE ARTILLERYMEN AND THEIR MAGAZINE -- BOWS AND

ARROWS -- THE REPEATING CROSS-BOW AND ITS MECHANISM -- CONSTRUCTION

OF THE ARROWS -- CHINESE SWORDS -- THE DOUBLE SWORD, AND MODE OF

USING IT -- TWO-HANDED SWORDS -- CRUELTY OF THE VICTORS -- VARIOUS

MODES OF TORTURE -- KNEELING ON THE CHAIN -- THE CANGUE -- FINGER

AND ANKLE SQUEEZING -- USE OF TORTURE IN MONEY-GETTING -- THE LARGE

AND SMALL BAMBOO -- MODE OF EVADING IT -- EXPOSURE IN A CAGE --

THE HOT-WATER SNAKE -- CAPITAL PUNISHMENTS -- SUICIDE BY ORDER --

STRANGLING -- CRUCIFIXION PREFERRED TO BEHEADING -- EXECUTION OF A

THIEF -- SAWING ASUNDER -- CONDUCT OF THE MANDARINS -- THE “UMBRELLA

OF A THOUSAND PEOPLE” -- THE ROBE OF HONOR -- TRANSFER OF RANK.

Without going into the question of warfare in China, we will mention

one or two of the characteristic weapons.

Fire-arms have apparently been known to them for ages, but in all the

years that we have been acquainted with China, no improvement has been

made in these weapons, the cannon, the jingall, and the hand-gun being

as rude and ineffective as they were two centuries ago. The cannon are

little more than thick tubes of iron, mostly hooped to strengthen them,

and of various lengths and bores. As to preserving any exactness of

size in the bores, the Chinese care little for it, and if the ball is

too small to fit the cannon, they wrap it up in cotton and then push it

upon the powder. Wadding is thought to be needless in fire-arms. It is

rather remarkable, however, that the Chinese have used breech-loading

cannon from time immemorial. Each of these guns is supplied with

several separate chambers, which can be kept loaded, and dropped one by

one into the aperture of the gun as fast as they can be fired.