THE FIRST YEAR--SOCIETY AND CLIMATE.
A very brief residence at Benares led me to see the great difference
between the society to which I had come and that which I had left. The
European community formed a mere handful of the population, and was
almost exclusively formed of officials, with all the peculiarities of a
class privileged by office. We had some two hundred European
artillerymen with their officers, of a regiment paid and controlled by
the East India Company; three native regiments officered by Europeans;
three or four members of the Civil Service, charged with the
administration of the city and district; one English merchant, and two
or three English shopkeepers. I now learned for the first time the
difference in rank between Queen's and Company's military officers. The
Queen's officer regarded himself as of a higher grade. Members of the
Civil Service and Company's officers met on terms of social equality;
but the Civilians looked on themselves as of a higher order, as the
aristocracy of the land, and the assumed superiority put a strain to
some degree on social intercourse. The persons sent out from this
country for the administration of India are called Covenanted Civilians,
as they bear a commission from the Queen; while those engaged for
administrative work by the Indian Government are called Uncovenanted.
The former class continue to have a great official advantage over the
latter; but forty years ago there was a great social inequality which
has in a measure ceased, where these uncovenanted servants are English
gentlemen, as they often are. English merchants were regarded as in
society; but shopkeepers, however large their establishment, were deemed
entirely outside the pale, except for strictly business purposes. This
was partly accounted for by European shopkeepers having been previously
stewards of ships, or soldiers who had received their discharge.
Missionaries were looked on as sufficiently in society to be admissible
everywhere, and were treated courteously by their European brethren when
they met, though only a few desired their intercourse.
[Sidenote: EUROPEANS AND NATIVES.]
As to the people of the land, both Hindu and Muhammadan, I discerned at
once, what I might have fully anticipated, that between them and us
there was a national, social, and religious gulf. Some were in our
houses as servants. We had to do with them in various ways; we could not
go out without seeing them on every side. There was on the part of many
a courteous bearing towards each other; there was in many cases a kindly
feeling; but the barriers which separated us could not be for any length
of time forgotten. I speedily saw that some Europeans looked with
contempt on the natives, as essentially of a lower order in creation;
but the better class of Europeans, the higher in position and education,
as a rule, regarded them with respect, and treated them not only with
justice but with kindness. Native servants received as kind treatment as
servants do in well-conducted families in our own country, and in many
cases repaid this kindness by devoted attachment and the efficient
discharge of the work entrusted to them. When native gentlemen came in
contact with Europeans of the higher class, all the honour was accorded
to them to which by their position they were entitled. Even in this case
there were national and religious differences, which effectually
prevented the intimacy which is often maintained where such differences
do not exist.
[Sidenote: EURASIANS.]
Within the first year I got an insight into a large and growing class,
who were connected with both Europeans and natives, and yet did not
belong to either. I refer to persons of mixed blood; some almost as
dark, in many cases altogether as dark, as ordinary natives--many of
these being descendants of Portuguese; others, again, so fair that their
Indian blood is scarcely observed; some in the lowest grade of society,
very poor and very ignorant; and others, with many intermediate links,
most respectable members of the community in character, knowledge,
position, and means. All these, whatever may be their rank, are
Christians by profession, and they dress so far as they can after the
European fashion; but the poorer class, in food and accommodation live
very much as natives do, and mainly speak the native language. The
people of mixed blood are called by different names--Eurasians, East
Indians, and not infrequently by a name to which they most rightly
object, Half-caste.
I was surprised and sorry to observe the feeling with which many
Europeans regarded this class. They were looked down upon as of an
inferior grade, who, whatever might be their character or position, were
not entitled to rank with Europeans. In the dislike of natives shown by
some Europeans there was something to remind one of the American feeling
in regard to colour, though of a much milder type; but I was not
prepared for the degree in which the feeling prevailed in reference to
Eurasians, though I might have been had I remembered that the slightest
tinge of African blood, a tinge to many eyes not perceptible, had been
considered in America a fatal taint. I speedily observed the effect the
feeling had on Eurasians in producing an unpleasant sensitiveness, and
impairing the confidence and respect indispensable to social
intercourse.
Since that time I have understood the causes of this feeling much better
than I could have then done. The most candid and thoughtful of the class
will allow that as a community they labour under great disadvantages.
Though they have native blood in their veins they are entirely separate
from natives in those things to which natives attach the highest value;
and though by the profession of Christianity, by the adoption of
European habits so far as circumstances allow, and by the use of the
English language, they draw to Europeans, yet they are forced to feel
they do not belong to them. They occupy an awkward middle position, and
the knowledge that they do leads to unpleasant grating. Then they have
not had the bracing which comes from residence in a Christian land.
Though proud of their Christian name and profession, they have been
injuriously affected by the moral atmosphere of their surroundings. The
lower their social position, the closer has been their connection with
the lower class of natives, and the more hurtful have been the
influences under which they have come. Eurasians are noted for their
excellent penmanship, and a great number from generation to generation
have found employment in Government offices, the greater number as mere
copyists, but a few as confidential clerks and accountants, whose
services have been highly appreciated by their official superiors. A
considerable number have risen to important offices in the
administration of the country. An increasing number are able to take
their place in every respect abreast of their European brethren.
Individuals have gone to England, and have succeeded in getting by
competition into the Covenanted Civil Service. The class has been
steadily growing for years in intelligence and character; and as the
members of their families are enjoying educational advantages to a
greater extent than at any previous period, there is every reason to
hope progress in the future will be still more rapid than in the past.
The distinction between them and persons of pure European blood will
thus become less and less a barrier to social intercourse; they will be
delivered from the unpleasantness the barrier has often caused, their
character will grow in strength, and they will become increasingly
fitted for exerting a happy influence on the native community. In the
case of individuals the distinction is now practically ignored. There
are no more honoured and honourable persons in India than some who
belong to this class. There have always been devoted Christians among
them, and of late years an increasing number have come under the power
of Divine grace.
It has been often remarked that one of the most pleasing traits of
native society is reproduced among Eurasians--the tie of kinship
prompting those who are in better circumstances to help their needy
relatives, often to the giving of large pecuniary aid, not unfrequently
to the taking of them into their houses. In the humbler portions of the
community there is often seen a patriarchal household like that so often
seen in native society.
[Sidenote: THE CLIMATE OF NORTHERN INDIA.]
The new-comer's experience of climate prepares him for what he has to
expect during his future residence. We have three marked seasons in the
North-Western Provinces, the one melting gradually into the other--the
hot season beginning in March and ending in June, the rainy season
beginning with July and ending in October, and the cold weather
beginning with November and ending in February. The seasons may thus be
described in a general way, but in fact every year differs somewhat from
others, as they do in our own country. The hot weather is sensibly felt
before March begins, and the heat of March is far less than that of the
succeeding months. The first burst of the rains is often before the
middle of June, but after that burst, called the "little rainy season,"
it is not uncommon to have a spell of very hot sunny weather. In some
years, indeed, there is so much weather of this kind during what is
called the rainy season, that the heat is most intense, and the crops
are burnt up. Towards the end of September there is commonly the last
great outpour of rain, and as October advances there is the cooling
freshness of the approaching cold weather, with enough of heat in the
day-time to tell us it has not quite let go its grasp. December and
January are our coldest months. In England, after an unpropitious
summer, the remark is often made, "We have had no summer!" and in the
same manner in India, when the temperature has been high in the cold
season, and we have not had the expected bracing, we say, "We have had
no winter!" Yet as in our own country, so in India; we have our marked
seasons, though we cannot be sure of the weather at any particular
period.
As India is an immense region, a great continent, with every variety of
scenery, with plains extending hundreds of miles, and vast stretches of
forests, with table-lands and lofty mountains, with land of every
description from barren sand to the richest alluvial soil, the climate
and products of its different countries are so different, that the
statements made about one region, however correct, when applied to the
whole are utterly misleading. I have been describing the seasons of the
North-Western Provinces; and yet, as Benares is in the lower part of
these provinces, its climate is considerably different from that of the
country farther north and west. The farther north we travel the longer
and colder is the cold season, and as a rule the hotter and briefer is
the hot season. On one occasion the heat was so great in Benares in
March that we found the night punkah pleasant; but on reaching Delhi,
nearly six hundred miles distant, a few days afterwards, instead of
seeking a night punkah we were thankful to have blankets to keep
ourselves warm.
[Sidenote: THE HOT SEASON.]
I have a vivid recollection of my experiences of the climate during my
first year. During our voyage on the Ganges the heat during the day was
like that of a cloudless July in England, and at night it was pleasantly
cool, the wood of the flat speedily giving off the heat it had taken in
during the day, and the flow of the river contributing to our comfort.
Reaching Benares as April was setting in, I speedily felt I was getting
into the experience of an Indian hot season. The doors were opened
before dawn to let in whatever coolness might come with the morning, and
before eight they were shut to keep out the heat of the day. The lower
part of the door was of wood, and the upper part of glass. Outside the
doors were heavy wooden blinds, made after the fashion of Venetian
blinds, the upper part of which were opened to let in from the verandah
the degree of light absolutely necessary with the least possible degree
of heat. No prisoner in his cell is more excluded from an outside view
than we were in our rooms during the day in the hot season. There was a
remarkable contrast between the outside glare and the inside dimness, so
that a person coming from without could not on entering see anything.
The prevailing wind is from the west. There is enough in the morning to
show the direction from which it is coming. It rises as the day
advances; by two or three it blows with great strength, raising clouds
of dust, and lulls towards evening. This wind is cool and bracing in the
cold weather, but as the season advances it becomes warm, and by May its
heat resembles the blast of a furnace. It every now and then gives place
to the east wind, which is not nearly so hot, but is so enervating that
the hot wind is greatly preferred. During the day we sit under the
punkah, a great wooden fan suspended from the roof with great flapping
fringes. This is pulled by a coolie, sometimes in the adjoining room,
but when it can be arranged in the verandah outside, who has in his hand
a rope attached to the punkah, which is brought to him by a small
aperture in the wall, through which a piece of thin bamboo is inserted
to make the friction as little as possible. When the west wind is
blowing freshly, it is brought with most pleasant coolness into the
house through platted screens of scented grass, on which water is
continually thrown outside. For years machines resembling the fanners so
much used by farmers in former days, with scented grass on each side and
a hut of scented grass over them, on which water is continually thrown,
with wheels turned round by hand labour, have been brought largely into
use. These machines are appropriately called "Thermantidotes."
The night in the hot season is much more trying than the day. There is
not a breath stirring, and the heat of the day, taken in by the walls,
is radiated all the night long. I found the night punkah in almost
universal use but I thought I would get on without it, and used it very
seldom. When the next hot season came I was glad to conform to the
custom of the country, for I found when I had not the punkah I got up in
the morning so tired and weary that I was unfit for the work of the day.
The aspect of the country at that season is very dreary. Some trees
retain their freshness in the hottest weather; but not a blade of green
grass is to be seen, and the ground is scorched, scarred, and baked, as
if it had been turned into a desert.
[Sidenote: THE RAINY SEASON.]
A marvellous change is produced by the first heavy fall of rain. After
stifling heat for some days, the rays of the sun beating with a
fierceness which threatens to burn up all nature, and which drives the
birds for shelter to the thickest foliage of the trees, the clouds
gather, the thunder rolls, peal quickly succeeding peal, the lightning
flashes incessantly, and then, after some heavy showers, there comes
down for two or three days, with very little intermission, such torrents
that it looks as if we were to be visited with a deluge. Within a week
all nature is transformed. The parched earth gives way to the richest
green. We in our country say in very propitious weather that we see
things grow; but in India vegetation takes such a bound as it never does
in our temperate climate. Immediately after the downpour of rain, the
sun comes out in all its strength; and, under the action of heat and
moisture, vegetation progresses marvellously. The fields are quickly
ploughed, the seed, for which moisture and great heat is required, is
sown, and in the course of three or four weeks they are far above the
ground. Within three months the harvest of the rainy season, furnishing
the people with rice, maize, and other grains, which furnish the
principal food of the people, is gathered in.
The rainy season is productive in another and less pleasant manner. It
is as favourable to insect life as it is to vegetable life. Flying white
ants, flying bugs, and other unwelcome visitors of the same order, come
out in thousands. At night, if the doors be open the white ants make for
the lamps in such numbers that they are extinguished by them, and the
room is in the morning found strewed with their dead. It requires a
torpid temperament to remain calm under this visitation. All dislike it,
and some find it a grievous trial. As the rainy season advances, the
trouble abates, and by the time the cold weather sets in the ordinary
house-fly by day and the mosquito by night alone remain to buzz about
us. The mosquito has rightly got the first place among insect
tormentors. The house-fly is at all seasons, in some more than in
others, and gives not a little annoyance by its pertinacity.
The change at the commencement of the rainy season is delightful. The
doors are thrown open, and the dry, parching wind gives place to a
refreshing coolness. When the rain ceases, the heat returns; the weather
is very muggy, the skin is irritated by the excessive perspiration, and
many suffer more than during the hot season. When the rain is abundant
and frequent, the suffering is much less than when there is little rain
and much sun. There is one comfort at that time: we know we are going on
to the cold weather, which will make amends for all that went before.
I can hardly conceive any country to have a finer climate than that of
the North-West Provinces of India in the cold months. Rain does
sometimes fall during that season; it may fall at any time of the year.
I remember a heavy fall on the first of May, and about Christmas and the
New Year it is eagerly desired for the crops, but ordinarily from week
to week there is an unclouded sky. There is a cool, pleasant breeze from
the west. In the house it is not only cool but cold, so that a little
sunning is pleasant, and at night in December and January, especially
far up the country, fires are welcome. Then Europeans, so far as
circumstances permit, get into the open air and move freely about, with
everything in the climate to favour their travelling.
[Sidenote: THE COLD SEASON.]
The beginning of the cold weather is a very busy season with the
agricultural class, to which the great body of the people belong. If the
rainy season has been favourable, especially if heavy rain has fallen
towards its close, the wells are full, and from these, after the land
has been ploughed, and the seed sown for the rabee crop, the most
valuable crop of the year, the fields are irrigated. Whatever grows in
our land in summer grows in North-Western India at that season: wheat,
oats, barley, potatoes, carrots, are grown in abundance. About March the
harvest is reaped.
As I proceed with these reminiscences, I shall have frequent occasion to
refer to our North Indian winter, its scenes, and employments, and I
have thought it well to enter at some length into a description of its
peculiarities.
One thing I observed my first year which I had abundant opportunity to
observe afterwards. The weather so welcomed by Europeans is very trying
to most natives, especially to those of the humbler classes, whose
clothing is very scanty. They never try to get warm by taking exercise.
They cower in the morning and evening round a fire, which has commonly
for its fuel dried cow-manure, with a coarse blanket over their head and
shoulders. As the sun gets above the horizon, they plant themselves
against a wall to bask in its rays, and if they can, do not stir till
they are well heated. As might be expected, many of them suffer from
chronic rheumatism. The extreme heat is not liked by them, but from it
they suffer far less than from cold.
While most Europeans get new life in the cold weather, the little ones
showing by their rosy cheeks how much they are benefited, a few are in
better health when the weather is warm, as then they are less subject to
aguish attacks. The remark is often made by those who have much
sedentary work that they like the cold season for enjoyment, but find it
unfavourable for work, as they cannot keep so steadily at it as they can
when the heat keeps them within doors.
While giving the reminiscences of my first year, my mind has been
continually carried forward to the experience of after-years in
reference to the vernacular languages, the various classes with whom
residence in India brings one into contact, and the seasons of the
country. In giving partial expression to this experience under the
heading of my first year, I have gone far beyond it. Those who favour me
with the perusal of my narrative may perhaps find it more intelligible
by my having anticipated myself.
I must confess months of the first year passed before I ceased to feel
myself an exile. The scenes around were so unlike those of my own
country, the prevailing idolatry so repulsive, the society,
associations, and climate so different, that I turned from them to my
native land with many a fond longing look. This feeling of exile was no
doubt deepened by the illness in the family with whom I was residing.
We had an English service every Thursday evening, conducted by the
missionaries in the hall of the mission-house, but I greatly missed the
services on the Lord's-day to which I had been accustomed.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: BATHING GHAT, BENARES.]