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FROM EDINBURGH
TO INDIA AND BURMAH
[Illustration: Ayah and Child]
FROM EDINBURGH TO
INDIA & BURMAH
BY
W. G. BURN MURDOCH
Author of
"From Edinburgh to the Antarctic," "A Procession of the
Kings of Scotland," etc.
_WITH TWENTY-FOUR FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR
FROM PAINTINGS BY THE AUTHOR_
LONDON
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE & SONS, LTD.
NEW YORK: E. P. DUTTON & CO.
_TO_
ST. C.
C.
Contents
CHAP. I
Introducing these Digressions.
Point of Departure.
Edinburgh Street Scenes.
Flying Impressions from the Train
to
LONDON.
Street Scenes there -- The Park and Regent Street.
The People in the Streets.
Our Royalties gone, and Loyalty -- going.
Piccadilly Circus by Night, and Mount Street. pp. 1-8
CHAP. II
London to Tilbury, and the Platform at Victoria Station.
The Embarkation on a P. & O.
A Bugle Call.
The luxury of being at sea.
The Bay, and
"Spun Yarns" on to 9-18
CHAP. III
Orpheus and the Argo and the Sirens in heavy weather.
Down the Portugese Coast.
High Art in the Engine-Room.
Our People going East.
A Blustery Day, and the Straits of Gibraltar.
Gib and Spain, and "Poor Barbara." 19-26
CHAP. IV
A Blue Day at Sea, and Castles in Spain.
A Fire Alarm, and A Dummy Dinner.
The Beautiful French Lady.
Marseilles and the Crowd on the Wharf.
_Bouillabaisses_, and Rejane, and Cyrano, etc.,
and the head of a Serang for a tail-piece. 27-34
CHAP. V
About the Crowd on Board, and the discomfort of a voyage
first class -- British types -- Reflections
on the Deck and on the Sea -- of
Sky, and People, and of things in general.
A P. & O. yarn, Old Junk, or Chestnut.
Respectability and Art.
It gets warm -- The Punkah Infliction.
Egypt in Sight, and the Nile Water.
Port Said and its Inhabitants -- Jock Furgusson and Ors.
Corsica, Sardinia, Lipari Islands, Stromboli, Crete,
and The Acts of the Apostles. 35-45
CHAP. VI
The saddest thing in Egypt -- Dancing in the Canal, and
the Search-light on the Desert -- The fizzling hot blue
Red Sea, and digressions about rose-red Italian wine, &
Ulysses, and Callum Bhouie, and Uisquebaugh. 46-53
CHAP. VII
Is still about the Red Sea -- "The Barren Rocks of Aden,"
and small talk about small events on board -- a fancy
dress dance, and sports, and so on to BOMBAY. 54-62
CHAP. VIII
Is -- without apologies -- of first impressions of India;
and about the landing and entertainments of their Royal
Highnesses the Prince and Princess of Wales -- Great
people and little people, and their affairs; Royal
Receptions to snake-charmers -- Illuminations,
Gun-firing, and the Bands playing God save the King --
Edward the --? 63-74
CHAP. IX
This chapter continues to deal with splendid Royal Shows,
and there is the precis of a dream of a Prince and an
A.D.C., who correct the Abuses of the Privileges of the
Royal Academies. 75-84
CHAP. X
And this is about the arrival of Lord Minto, and the
departure of Lord Curzon, and the Tomasha connected
therewith; Vice-regal Receptions, and Processions, and
more band playing, and gun-firing. 85-101
CHAP. XI
Chronicles small beer -- things about books and little
Indian beasts and natives, and there is another
digression to the subject of "English _v._ British
Union, and the Imperial Idea," and a sail over the Bay
with a piratical (looking) crew, to the caves of
Elephanta. 102-111
CHAP. XII
Is a somewhat lengthy drawn-out chapter about a train
journey from Bombay up the Western Ghats, and down south
on the Deccan (Dekkan) Tableland to Dharwar -- Rather a
"carpet-bag chapter," to quote Professor Masson. 112-122
CHAP. XIII
Dharwar.
My Brother's Bungalow.
Life in a small Station.
The Club.
Duck-shooting 123-135
CHAP. XIV
A letter on the subject of DUCK -- And a Cholera Goddess.
136-144
CHAP. XV
Last evening at Dharwar, then notes in the train south to
Bangalore. 145-149
CHAP. XVI
Is of notes and sketches about things you see in
Bangalore. 150-156
CHAP. XVII
Is of a long journey for a small shoot -- Life on the
Railway Line, and a letter about SNIPE.
Our day's shoot is cut in two by the Royal Procession, and
we go to the Embassy, then to jail, and make a picture
of the Bazaar by lamplight, and discourse on the subject
of music with the Maharajah of Mysore. 157-173
CHAP. XVIII
Is about the Maharajah's Palace at Mysore -- To
Seringapatam in Trollies -- Remarks about the Siege,
mosquitoes, and landscape -- Back to Mysore, and Dinner
on the Track. 174-185
CHAP. XIX
Channapatna Village, and a free tip to artists -- Our Camp
in a railway siding in "beechen green, and shadows
numberless" -- Thoughts of Madras and the Ocean again --
How we rule India, and _ghosts_ on the railway track --
A Bank in India, and about cooking, and the Indian
squirrel or Chip-monk -- The Maharajah -- Red
Chupprassies -- The Museum, and Ants, etc., etc. 186-196
CHAP. XX
_En route_ for Madras -- A plague inspection in the grey
of the morning -- Madras and blue southern ocean,
through Tamarisks, and the silvery Cooum and fishermen
seine-netting on the strand -- The Race-course -- The
Old Fort of the Company -- Dinner at the Fort, and the
people we saw there; and of those we remembered who once
lived there -- A Digression from Crows to ancient Naval
Architecture, and the new Order of Precedence. 197-209
CHAP. XXI
A delightful Fishing Day -- Surf Rafts. -- Making Calls --
Boating on the Adyar River -- A Sunday in Madras
Churches, and on a Surf Raft -- End of the Year. 210-220
CHAP. XXII
1st JAN. 1906. -- Call at Government House -- The Fort
again -- More about Surf Rafts -- Lord Ampthill's
Government House Reception -- Nabobs and nobodies. --
Fireworks and pretty dresses, and the band playing. 221-226
CHAP. XXIII
Out of Madras, and on the blue sea again, bound West to
Burmah -- Packed with Natives -- An unsavoury Passage
Ruskin's English and Native Essayists. 227-231
CHAP. XXIV
GOLDEN BURMAH, and the Golden Pagoda -- a gymkhana dance
-- Sketching at the Pagoda entrance -- Various races --
Bachelor's quarters -- The Shan Camp -- Princesses and
Chieftains, and their followings -- Mr Bertram Carey,
C.I.E. -- The peace of the platform of The Shwey Dagon
Pagoda. 232-244
CHAP. XXV
"The Blairin' trumpet sounded far," and the Prince comes
over the sea, and lands at Rangoon -- Receptions and
processions; pandols, shamianas; and Royal Tomasha --
Illuminations at night on the Lake, and the Royal Barges
-- Song about Our King Emperor -- We start for Mandalay
by river-boat up the IRRAWADDY. 245-250
CHAP. XXVI
The Flotilla Co. -- Bassein-Creek mosquitoes --
Searchlight fantasies fairy-like scenes on the river by
night and day -- Up stream on a perfect yacht -- Past
perfectly lovely villages and scenes -- The Nile nowhere
-- Mr Fielding Hall -- Riverside delights -- Prome --
Pagodas -- The Prince comes down the river. 251-263
CHAP. XXVII
THAYET MYO, 20th Jany. -- It gets cooler -- Thoughts of
big game -- Watteau trees -- Sweet pea dresses --
Country scenes -- Popa Mountain -- The Fanes of Pagan --
A little about shooting and geese -- and the pleasures
of the river life to end of chapter. 264-275
CHAP. XXVIII
The shore at Mandalay -- The Queen's (Supayalat) golden
Kioung or Monastery -- Street scenes -- THE ARRAKAN
PAGODA, and scenes for a Rubens or Rembrandt -- The
Mecca of this Eastern Asia -- Burmese women bathing -- A
Burmese harper -- The Phryne in hunting green kirtle --
Mingun and the pagoda that was to have been the biggest
in the world, and the 90-ton bell -- Mr Graham's house
-- Life on S.S. "Mandalay" at the Mandalay shore -- King
Thebaw's Palace. 276-293
CHAP. XXIX
Away to Bhamo!
Off again -- In a cargo steamer up river to the end of the
Empire this way -- The markets on board and Burmese life
-- Changing views, flowers, sunlight and swirling river
-- Fishing -- Geese -- Painting -- Cascades of beautiful
people, Snipe-shooting, and more fishing. 294-302
CHAP. XXX
Anchor up -- Mist on the river -- "Stop her" -- Pagodas
and cane villages -- Fishing with fly; A 35-lber -- The
Elephant Kedar Camp -- Animal life on the river banks --
We go aground -- The crew strike work -- We get away
again -- Kalone to Katha. 303-313
CHAP. XXXI
Sunshine and haar -- Children of Cleutha -- Moda -- Girls
and old ladies of Upper Burmah -- We meet a Punitive
Expedition, Sikhs and Ghurkas under a Gunner-Officer
returning from Chin hills to Bhamo -- Fog banks and the
second Defiles -- Jungle scenery -- Shans and Kachins at
Sinkan -- We go shopping on an elephant at BHAMO --
China Street -- A Chinese gentleman's house -- The Joss
House -- Painting in a Chinese crowd -- Marooned. 314-327
CHAP. XXXII
The D.-C. Bungalow -- Roses, orchids, and "The Mystery." 328-330
CHAP. XXXIII
Many pages, lengthy, descriptive, of an expedition in
canoes, and on elephant back through pucca jungle to
shoot snipe, and of our entertainment in the evening at
the Military Police Fort, with Kachin dances in
moonlight -- A Review of Kachin native police. 331-342
CHAP. XXXIV
Preparations for our pilgrimage into China -- Our
servants, ponies, and live stock -- On the Road -- From
Bhamo to the back parts of China -- The first
Rest-House. 343-347
CHAP. XXXV
Kalychet -- A mid-day halt and Mahseer fishing -- Views in
the Kachin Highland Forests -- Rivers -- "Seven bens and
seven glens" -- Caravans on the track -- The Taiping
river -- A Spate -- Fishing 348-357
CHAP. XXXVI
"On the Water" continued -- Nampoung -- The edge of the
Empire -- Six to seven thousand feet up, and cold at
night. 358-362
CHAP. XXXVII
Nampoung river -- A fish in the bag, a cup, and a pipe, by
the river side -- We wade into China -- Meet the Chinese
army and wade back -- Another cast in the Taiping -- "G"
collects many orchids -- From Kalychet to Momouk --
Riding in the sun in the morning and back to the plains
alas! A pleasant evening with the Military Police. A
study of a Kachin beauty, and of an average type of
Upper Burmese girl -- Good-bye Bhamo -- Paddling down
the Irrawaddy -- More river-side notes -- A.1. shooting,
to the writer's mind -- The Luxury of a Cargo Boat of
the Flotilla Company -- Deep Sea Chanties, and Mandalay
again. 363-379
CHAP. XXXVIII
We drop from the comfort of the Cargo Steamer to the
comparative discomfort of the train at Rangoon --
Another plaguey inspection -- Another joyous embarkation
on another B.I. Boat -- Calcutta -- Benares and its
Ghats; after the Golden Beauty of Burmah! -- Street
scenes and riverside horrors -- A muddle of indecencies
and religions -- A superior Fakir's portrait --
333,000,000 gods -- An artist's private deductions --
_Les Indes sans le British_ -- Delhi and Agra. 380-391
CHAP. XXXIX
India generally speaking, as a preamble to several pages
about Black Buck shooting.
The Taj Mahal not described -- Sha Jehans portrait. 392-401
LIST OF COLOURED ILLUSTRATIONS
BY
AUTHOR AND "G."
_By Author_
Ayah and Child _Frontispiece_
A Glimpse of the North Sea _to face page_ 4
Piccadilly Circus, by Night 8
A Spanish Woman 26
A Cafe, Port Said 44
Aden, and Fan-sellers 58
Waiting for Carriages after Reception at 79
Government House, Bombay
Lord Minto's Landing in India 92
A Reception in Government House, Bombay. 98
Sailing from Elephanta 111
An Indian Tank 151
A Street Corner, Bangalore 171
Entrance to the Shwey Dagon Pagoda, Rangoon 237
H.R.H. Prince and Princess of Wales 249
landing at the Boat Club, Rangoon
A Burmese Harpist 284
A Priests' Bathing Pool 302
A Chinese Joss House 324
A Kachin Girl 370
A Girl of Upper Burmah 372
A Fakir at Benares 387
A Delhi Street Scene 390
_Illustrations by "G_."
A Sacred Lake near Rangoon 244
Sunset on the Irrawaddy 251
Mid-day on the Irrawaddy, distant Ruby Mountains 298
CHAPTER I
[Illustration]
Some time ago I wrote a book about a voyage in a whaler to the far
south, to a white, silent land where the sun shines all day and night
and it is quiet as the grave and beautiful as heaven--when it is not
blowing and black as--the other place! A number of people said they
liked it, and asked me to write again; therefore these notes and
sketches on a Journey to India and Burmah. They may not be so
interesting as notes about Antarctic adventure and jolly old Shell Backs
and South Spainers on a whaler; but one journal ought at least, to be a
contrast to the other. The first, a voyage on a tiny wooden ship with a
menu of salt beef, biscuit, and penguin, to unsailed seas and
uninhabited ice-bound lands; the other, in a floating hotel, with
complicated meals, and crowds of passengers, to a hot land with
innumerable inhabitants.
I trust that the sketches I make on the way will help out my notes when
they are not quite King's-English, and that the notes will help to
explain the sketches if they are not sufficiently academical for the
general reader, and moreover, I fondly believe that any journal written
in the East in these years of grace 1905-6, must catch a little
reflected interest from the historic visit of their Royal Highnesses the
Prince and Princess of Wales to India and Burmah.
Edinburgh is our point of departure; the date 13th Oct. and the hour 10
P.M. All journeys seem to me to begin in Edinburgh, from the moment my
baggage is on the dickey and the word "Waverley" is given to the cabby.
On this occasion we have three cabs, and a pile of baggage, for six
months clothing for hot and cold places, and sketching, shooting, and
fishing things take space. I trundle down to the station in advance with
the luggage, and leave G. and her maid to follow, and thus miss the
tearful parting with domestics in our marble halls.... Good-bye Auld
Reekie, good-bye. Parting with you is not all sorrow; yet before we
cross the Old Town I begin to wonder why I leave you to paint abroad;
for I am positive your streets are just as picturesque and as dirty and
as paintable as any to be found in the world. Perhaps the very fact of
our going away intensifies last impressions.... There is a street corner
I passed often last year; two girls are gazing up at the glory of colour
of dresses and ribbons and laces in electric light, and a workman reads
his evening paper beside the window--it is a subject for a
Velasquez--all the same I will have a shot at it, and work it up on
board ship; it will make an initial letter for this first page of my
journal.
Across the Old Town we meet the North Sea mist blowing up The Bridges,
fighting high up with the tall arc lights. What variety of colour there
is and movement; the lights of the shops flood the lower part of the
street and buildings with a warm orange, there are emerald, ruby, and
yellow lights in the apothecary's windows, primary colours and
complementary, direct and reflected from the wet pavements; the clothes
of passing people run from blue-black to brown and dull red against the
glow, and there's a girl's scarlet hat and an emerald green
signboard--choice of tints and no mistake--we will take the lot for a
first illustration, and in London perhaps, we will get another street
scene or two, and so on; as we go south and east we will pick up
pictures along the road--from Edinburgh to Mandalay with coloured
pictures all the way, notes of the outside of things only, no inner
meanings guaranteed--the reflections on the shop windows as it
were--anyone can see the things inside.
[Illustration: A Glimpse of the North Sea]
An old friend met us at the station; he had just heard of our exodus and
came to wish us good-bye as we used to do in school-days, when we
considered a journey to England was rather an event. He spoke of
"Tigers;" India and tigers are bracketed in his mind, and I am certain
he would get tiger-shooting somehow or other if he were to go East; he
looked a little surprised and sad when I affirmed that I went rather to
paint and see things than to shoot. Shooting and other sports we can
have at home, and after all, is not trying to see things and depict them
the most exciting form of sport? I am sure it is as interesting; and
that more skill and quickness of hand and eye is required to catch with
brush or pen point a flying impression from a cab window or the train
than in potting stripes in a jungle.
Look you--this I call sport! To catch this nocturne in the train, the
exact tint of the blue-black night, framed in the window of our lamp-lit
carriage; or the soft night effect on field and cliff and sea as we
pass. No academical pot shot this, for we are swinging south down the
east coast past Cockburnspath (Coppath, the natives call it) at sixty
miles the hour, so we must be quick to get any part of the night firmly
impressed. There is faint moonlight through low clouds (the night for
flighting duck), the land blurred, and you can hardly see the farmer's
handiwork on the stubbles; there are trees and a homestead massed in
shadow, with a lamp-lit window, lemon yellow against the calm
lead-coloured sea, and a soft broad band of white shows straight down
the coast where the surf tumbles, each breaker catches a touch of
silvery moonlight. The foam looks soft as wool, but I know two nights
ago, an iron ship was torn to bits on the red rocks it covers.... I must
get this down in colour to-morrow in my attic under the tiles of the
Coburg. Who knows--some day it may be worth a tiger's skin (with the
frame included).... There is the light now on the Farnes, and Holy
Island we can dimly make out.
To the right we look to see if the bison at Haggerston are showing their
great heads above the low mists on the fields.... The night is cold,
there is the first touch of winter in the air. It is time to knock out
my pipe and turn in, to dream of India's coral strand, as we roll away
south across the level fields of England.
[Illustration: A Glimpse of the North Sea]
In London town we arrive very early; an early Sunday morning in
autumn in the East of London is not the most delightful time to be
there. It is smelly and sordid, and the streets are almost empty of
people, but I notice two tall young men in rags, beating up either side
of a street, their hands deep in their pockets as if they were cold;
they are looking for cigarette ends, I expect, and scraps of food; and
we are driving along very comfortably to our hotel and breakfast. An
hour or two later we are in the park at church-parade; a little pale sun
comes through the smoky air, and a chilly breeze brings the yellow
leaves streaming to the ground. There are gorgeous hats on the lines of
sparrows nests, and manifold draperies and corduroys and ermines and
purple things, with presumably good-looking women inside. We men run to
purple ties this year, quite a plucky contrast to our regulation
toppers, black coats and sober tweed trousers. And one unto the other
says, "Hillo--you here again! Who'd have expected to see you, dear
fellow! What sort of bag did you get; good sport, eh?" "Oh,
good--good--awfully good! Such a good year all round, you know, and
partridges, they say, are splendid; hasn't been such a good season for
years; awfully sorry to miss 'em. And when do you go back?--On the
_Egypt_!--Oh, by Jove! won't there be a crowd! Horrid bore, you
know--'pon my word everyone is goin' East now; you can't get away from
people anywhere! It's the Prince's visit you know; what I mean is, it's
such a draw, don't you know."
Monday morning in Regent Street.--Sauntering with St C., looking at the
crowd and incubators and buying things we could probably get just as
well in Bombay; but Indian ink and colours, and these really important
things we dare not leave behind. What a pleasant street it is to saunter
in once or twice in a year or so; what a variety of nationalities and
pretty faces there are to see. The air is fresh and autumnal, and
overhead a northerly breeze blows wisps of white cloud across a bright
blue sky, and just floats out the French Tricolours and the Union Jacks
with which the street is decorated. The houses on one side are in quite
hot sun; the other side of the street is in cold bluey shade, which
extends more than half across the road. A cart crawls up the shaded
side, leaving a track of yellow sand in its wake; someone is coming, and
the crowd waits patiently.... Now mounted police appear in the distant
haze and come trotting towards us, and the guards with glittering
breastplates are rattling past and away in a breath! Then outriders and
a carriage, and a brown face, moustached and bearded, and the Prince
goes by, and the crowd cheers--and I pray we may both get a tiger. Then
the King passes with Lord Minto, I think. We have come to London for
something!
Possibly in the fulness of time we may see kings in our Northern Capital
oftener than we do now. We need ceremonies, a little sand on the street
occasionally, and a parade or two--ceremonies are the expression of
inward feelings; without occasion for the expression of the sentiment of
loyalty, the sense must go ... the loyalty of a second northern
people--going--going--for a little sand and bunting--and--NO OFFER?
[Illustration]
There is no chance of ennui in the week in London before a voyage; you
have packing, shopping, insuring, and buying tickets and general
bustling round--what charming occupations for the contemplative mind!
Then you throw in visits to friends, and acquaintances call on you, all
in the concentrated week; you breakfast late, lunch heavily, rush off to
a hurried dinner somewhere, then rush off to a play or some function or
other, supper somewhere else and then home, too late for half a pipe;
engagements about clothes, hats, dresses, guns, lunches, dinners,
theatres, you have all in your mind, awake and asleep, and as you run
about attending to essentials and superfluities, you jostle with the
collarless man in the street, and note the hungry look, and reflect how
thin is the ice that bears you and how easy it is to go through, just a
step, and you are over the neck--collar gone and the crease out of the
trousers. A friend of mine went through the other day and no one knew;
he lived on brown bread and water for ever so long, but stuck to his
evening clothes, and now he sits in the seats of the mighty. What "a
Variorem" it all is--tragedy and comedy written in the lines of faces
and the cut of clothes. But I confess; what interests me in London more
than types or individuals, are the street scenes and figures seen
collectively. What pictures there are at every turning, and yet how
seldom we see them painted. With the utmost modesty in the world I will
have a try in passing at Piccadilly Circus. Is there a street scene so
fascinating as that centre for colour and movement?--say on a May night,
with people going to the theatres, the sky steely blue and ruddy over
the house-tops, the Pavilion and Criterion lights orange and green
glinting on the polished road and flickering on the flying hansom
wheels--or The Circus in a wet night, a whirlpool of moving lights and
shadows and wavering reflections! What a contrast to the quiet effects
in some side street; for example this street seen half in moonlight,
beneath my window in the Coburg; the only sound the click clack of the
busy horse's feet on the wood pavement, as hansoms and carriages flit
round from Berkeley Square--there's a levee to night, and their yellow
lamps string up Mount Street and divide beneath me into Carlos Place.
... My tailor has sent me such an excellent cardboard box to paint on,
so I will use it for this effect in Muzii colours; it will make a drop
scene or tail piece to this first chapter of these "Digressions."
[Illustration]
[Illustration: Piccadilly Circus, by Night.]