The direction of our pilgrimage of self-improvement lay towards the
north-west, as was previously decided. We were very impatient to see
these status in statu of Anglo-India, but.... Do what you may, there
always will be a but.
We left the Jubbulpore line several miles from Nassik; and, to return to
it, we had to go back to Akbarpur, then travel by doubtful Local-Board
roads to the station Vanevad and take the train of Holkar's line, which
joins the Great Indian Peninsular Railway.
Meanwhile, the Bagh caves were quite close to us, not more than fifty
miles off, to the east from Mandu. We were undecided whether to leave
them alone or go back to the Nerbudda. In the country situated on the
other side of Kandesh, our Babu had some "chums," as everywhere else in
India; the omnipresent Bengali Babus, who are always glad to be of
some service to you, are scattered all over Hindostan, like the Jews in
Russia. Besides, our party was joined by a new member.
The day before we had received a letter from Swami Dayanand, carried to
us by a traveling Sannyasi. Dayanand informed us that the cholera was
increasing every day in Hardwar, and that we must postpone making his
acquaintance personally till the end of May, either in Dehra-Dun, at the
foot of Himalaya, or in Saharanpur, which attracts every tourist by its
charming situation.
The Sannyasi brought us also a nosegay from the Swami, a nosegay of the
most extraordinary flowers, which are totally unknown in Europe. They
grow only in certain Himalayan valleys; they possess the wonderful
capacity of changing their color after midday, and do not look dead even
when faded. The Latin name of this charming plant is Hibiscus mutabilis.
At night they are nothing but a large knot of pressed green leaves,
but from dawn till ten o'clock the flowers open and look like large
snow-white roses; then, towards twelve o'clock, they begin to redden,
and later in the afternoon they look as crimson as a peony. These
flowers are sacred to the Asuras, a kind of fallen angels in Hindu
mythology, and to the sun-god Surya. The latter deity fell in love with
an Asuri at the beginning of creation, and since then is constantly
caught whispering words of fiery love to the flower that shelters her.
But the Asura is a virgin; she gives herself entirely to the service
of the goddess Chastity, who is the patroness of all the ascetic
brotherhoods. The love of Surya is vain, Asura will not listen to him.
But under the flaming arrows of the enamoured god she blushes and in
appearance loses her purity. The natives call this plant lajjalu, the
modest one.
We were spending the night by a brook, under a shadowy fig-tree. The
Sannyasi, who had made a wide circuit to fulfil Dayanand's request, made
friends with us; and we sat up late in the night, listening whilst he
talked about his travels, the wonders of his native country, once so
great, and about the heroic deeds of old Runjit-Sing, the Lion of the
Punjab.
Strange, mysterious beings are found sometimes amongst these traveling
monks. Some of them are very learned; read and talk Sanskrit; know all
about modern science and politics; and, nevertheless, remain faithful to
their ancient philosophical conceptions. Generally they do not wear any
clothes, except a piece of muslin round the loins, which is insisted
upon by the police of the towns inhabited by Europeans. They wander from
the age of fifteen, all their lives, and die generally very aged. They
live never giving a thought to the morrow, like the birds of heaven, and
the lilies of the field. They never touch money, and are contented with
a handful of rice. All their worldly possessions consist of a small dry
pumpkin to carry water, a rosary, a brass cup and a walking stick.
The Sannyasis and the Swamis are usually Sikhs from the Punjab, and
monotheists. They despise idol-worshipers, and have nothing to do with
them, though the latter very often call themselves by their names.
Our new friend was a native of Amritsar, in the Punjab, and had been
brought up in the "Golden Temple," on the banks of Amrita-Saras, the
"Lake of Immortality." The head Guru, or instructor, of Sikhs resides
there. He never crosses the boundaries of the temple. His chief
occupation is the study of the book called Adigrantha, which belongs to
the sacred literature of this strange bellicose sect. The Sikhs respect
him as much as the Tibetans respect their Dalai-Lama. The Lamas in
general consider the latter to be the incarnation of Buddha, the Sikhs
think that the Maha-Guru of Amritsar is the incarnation of Nanak, the
founder of their sect. Nevertheless, no true Sikh will ever say that
Nanak was a deity; they look on him as a prophet, inspired by the spirit
of the only God. This shows that our Sannyasi was not one of the
naked travelling monks, but a true Akali; one of the six hundred
warrior-priests attached to the Golden Temple, for the purpose of
serving God and protecting the temple from the destructive Mussulmans.
His name was Ram-Runjit-Das; and his personal appearance was in perfect
accordance with his title of "God's warrior." His exterior was very
remarkable and typical; and he looked like a muscular centurion of
ancient Roman legions, rather than a peaceable servant of the altar.
Ram-Runjit-Das appeared to us mounted on a magnificent horse, and
accompanied by another Sikh, who respectfully walked some distance
behind him, and was evidently passing through his noviciate. Our Hindu
companions had discerned that he was an Akali, when he was still in the
distance. He wore a bright blue tunic without sleeves, exactly like that
we see on the statues of Roman warriors. Broad steel bracelets protected
his strong arms, and a shield protruded from behind his back. A blue,
conical turban covered his head, and round his waist were many steel
circlets. The enemies of the Sikhs assert that these sacred sectarian
belts become more dangerous in the hand of an experienced "God's
warrior," than any other weapon.
The Sikhs are the bravest and the most warlike sect of the whole Punjab.
The word sikh means disciple. Founded in the fifteenth century by the
wealthy and noble Brahman Nanak, the new teaching spread so successfully
amongst the northern soldiers, that in 1539 A.D., when the founder died,
it counted one hundred thousand followers. At the present time, this
sect, harmonizing closely with the fiery natural mysticism, and the
warlike tendencies of the natives, is the reigning creed of the whole
Punjab. It is based on the principles of theocratic rule; but its dogmas
are almost totally unknown to Europeans; the teachings, the religious
conceptions, and the rites of the Sikhs, are kept secret. The following
details are known generally: the Sikhs are ardent monotheists, they
refuse to recognize caste; have no restrictions in diet, like Europeans;
and bury their dead, which, except among Mussulmans, is a rare exception
in India. The second volume of the Adigrantha teaches them "to adore the
only true God; to avoid superstitions; to help the dead, that they
may lead a righteous life; and to earn one's living, sword in hand."
Govinda, one of the great Gurus of the Sikhs, ordered them never to
shave their beards and moustaches, and not to cut their hair--in order
that they may not be mistaken for Mussulmans or any other native of
India.
Many a desperate battle the Sikhs fought and won, against the
Mussulmans, and against the Hindus. Their leader, the celebrated
Runjit-Sing, after having been acknowledged the autocrat of the Upper
Punjab, concluded a treaty with Lord Auckland, at the beginning of this
century, in which his country was proclaimed an independent state. But
after the death of the "old lion," his throne became the cause of the
most dreadful civil wars and disorders. His son, Maharaja Dhulip-Sing,
proved quite unfit for the high post he inherited from his father,
and, under him, the Sikhs became an ill-disciplined restless mob. Their
attempt to conquer the whole of Hindostan proved disastrous. Persecuted
by his own soldiers, Dhulip-Sing sought the help of Englishmen, and was
sent away to Scotland. And some time after this, the Sikhs took their
place amongst the rest of Britain's Indian subjects.
But still there remains a strong body of the great Sikh sect of old.
The Kuks represent the most dangerous underground current of the popular
hatred. This new sect was founded about thirty years ago [written in
1879] by Balaka-Rama, and, at first, formed a bulk of people near Attok,
in the Punjab, on the east bank of the Indus, exactly on the spot where
the latter becomes navigable. Balaka-Rama had a double aim; to restore
the religion of the Sikhs to its pristine purity, and to organize a
secret political body, which must be ready for everything, at a moment's
notice. This brotherhood consists of sixty thousand members, who pledged
themselves never to reveal their secrets, and never to disobey any order
of their leaders. In Attok they are few, for the town is small. But we
were assured that the Kuks live everywhere in India. Their community
is so perfectly organized that it is impossible to find them out, or to
learn the names of their leaders.
In the course of the evening our Akali presented us with a little
crystal bottle, filled with water from the "Lake of Immortality." He
said that a drop of it would cure all diseases of the eye. There are
numbers of fresh springs at the bottom of this lake, and so its water is
wonderfully pure and transparent, in spite of hundreds of people daily
bathing in it. When, later on, we visited it, we had the opportunity to
verify the fact that the smallest stone at the bottom is seen perfectly
distinctly, all over the one hundred and fifty square yards of the lake.
Amrita-Saran is the most charming of all the sights of Northern India.
The reflection of the Golden Temple in its crystal waters makes a
picture that is simply feerique.
We had still seven weeks at our disposal. We were undecided between
exploring the Bombay Presidency, the North-West Provinces and the
Rajistan. Which were we to choose? Where were we to go? How best to
employ our time? Before such a variety of interesting places we became
irresolute. Hyderabad, which is said to transport the tourists into the
scenery of the Arabian Nights, seemed so attractive that we seriously
thought of turning our elephants back to the territory of the Nizam.
We grew fond of the idea of visiting this "City of the Lion," which was
built in 1589 by the magnificent Mohamed-Kuli-Kuth-Shah, who was so used
to luxuries of every kind as to grow weary even of Golkonda, with all
its fairyland castles and bright gardens. Some buildings of
Hyderabad, mere remnants of the past glory, are still known to
renown. Mir-Abu-Talib, the keeper of the Royal Treasury, states that
Mohamed-Kuli-Shah spent the fabulous sum of L 2,800,000 sterling on the
embellishment of the town, at the beginning of his reign; though the
labor of the workmen did not cost him anything at all. Save these few
memorials of greatness, the town looks like a heap of rubbish nowadays.
But all tourists are unanimous on one point, namely, that the British
Residency of Hyderabad still deserves its title of the Versailles of
India.
The title the British Residency bears, and everything it may contain at
the present time, are mere trifles compared with the past. I remember
reading a chapter of the History of Hyderabad, by an English author,
which contained something to the following effect: Whilst the Resident
entertained the gentlemen, his wife was similarly employed receiving the
ladies a few yards off, in a separate palace, which was as sumptuous,
and bore the name of Rang-Mahal. Both palaces were built by Colonel
Kirkpatrick, the late minister at the Nizam's court. Having married a
native princess, he constructed this charming abode for her personal
use. Its garden is surrounded by a high wall, as is customary in the
Orient, and the centre of the garden is adorned with a large marble
fountain, covered with scenes from the Ramayana, and mosaics, Pavilions,
galleries and terraces--everything in this garden is loaded with
adornments of the most costly Oriental style, that is to say, with
abundance of inlaid designs, paintings, gilding, ivory and marble. The
great attraction of Mrs. Kirkpatrick's receptions were the nautches,
magnificently dressed, thanks to the generosity of the Resident. Some
of them wore a cargo of jewels worth L 30,000, and literally shone from
head to foot with diamonds and other precious stones.
The glorious times of the East India Company are beyond recall, and
no Residents, and even no native princes, could now afford to be so
"generous." India, this "most precious diamond of the British crown," is
utterly exhausted, like a pile of gold in the hands of an alchemist, who
thriftlessly spent it in the hope of finding the philosopher's stone.
Besides ruining themselves and the country, the Anglo-Indians commit the
greatest blunders, at least in two points of their present Government
system. These two points are: first, the Western education they give to
the higher classes; and, secondly, the protection and maintenance of the
rights of idol worship. Neither of these systems is wise. By means of
the first they successfully replace the religious feelings of old India,
which, however false, had the great advantage of being sincere, by a
positive atheism amongst the young generation of the Brahmans; and by
the means of the second they flatter only the ignorant masses, from
whom nothing is to be feared under any circumstances. If the patriotic
feelings of the bulk of the population could possibly be roused, the
English would have been slaughtered long ago. The rural populace is
unarmed, it is true, but a crowd seeking revenge could use the brass and
stone idols, sent to India by thousands from Birmingham, with as great
success as if they were so many swords. But, as it is, the masses of
India are indifferent and harmless; so that the only existing danger
comes from the side of the educated classes. And the English fail to see
that the better the education they give them, the more careful they must
be to avoid reopening the old wounds, always alive to new injury, in
the heart of every true Hindu. The Hindus are proud of the past of their
country, dreams of past glories are their only compensation for the
bitter present. The English education they receive only enables them
to learn that Europe was plunged in the darkness of the Stone Age, when
India was in the full growth of her splendid civilization. And so the
comparison of their past with their present is only the more sad. This
consideration never hinders the Anglo-Indians from hurting the feelings
of the Hindus. For instance, in the unanimous opinion of travelers
and antiquarians, the most interesting building of Hyderabad is
Chahar-Minar, a college that was built by Mohamed-Kuli-Khan on the ruins
of a still more ancient college. It is built at the crossing of four
streets, on four arches, which are so high that loaded camels and
elephants with their turrets pass through freely. Over these arches rise
the several stories of the college. Each story once was destined for
a separate branch of learning. Alas! the times when India studied
philosophy and astronomy at the feet of her great sages are gone, and
the English have transformed the college itself into a warehouse. The
hall, which served for the study of astronomy, and was filled with
quaint, medieval apparatus, is now used for a depot of opium; and the
hall of philosophy contains huge boxes of liqueurs, rum and champagne,
which are prohibited by the Koran, as well as by the Brahmans.
We were so enchanted by what we heard about Hyderabad, that we resolved
to start thither the very next morning, when our ciceroni and companions
destroyed all our plans by a single word. This word was: heat. During
the hot season in Hyderabad the thermometer reaches ninety-eight degrees
Fahrenheit in the shade, and the temperature of the water in the Indus
is the temperature of the blood. As to Upper Sindh, where the dryness of
the air, and the extreme aridity of the sandy soil reproduce the Sahara
in miniature, the usual shade temperature is one hundred and thirty
degrees Fahrenheit. No wonder the missionaries have no chance there.
The most eloquent of Dante's descriptions of hell could hardly produce
anything but a cooling effect on a populace who live perfectly contented
under these circumstances.
Calculating that there was no obstacle to our going to the Bagh caves,
and that going to Sindh was a perfect impossibility, we recovered our
equanimity. Then the general council decided that we had better abandon
all ideas of a predetermined plan, and travel as fancy led us.
We dismissed our elephants, and next day, a little before sunset,
arrived at the spot where the Vagrey and Girna join. These are two
little rivers, quite famous in the annals of the Indian mythology, and
which are generally conspicuous by their absence, especially in summer.
At the opposite side of the river, there lay the illustrious Bagh caves,
with their four openings blinking in the thick evening mist.
We thought of crossing to them immediately, by the help of a ferry boat,
but our Hindu friends and the boat-men interposed. The former said
that visiting these caves is dangerous even by daytime; because all the
neighborhood is full of beasts of prey and of tigers, who, I concluded,
are like the Bengali Babus, to be met with everywhere in India. Before
venturing into these caves, you must send a reconnoitring party of
torch-bearers and armed shikaris. As to the boatmen, they protested on
different grounds, but protested strongly. They said that no Hindu would
dare to approach these caves after the sun set. No one but a Bellati
would fancy that Vagrey and Girna are ordinary rivers, for every Hindu
knows they are divine spouses, the god Shiva and his wife Parvati.
This, in the first instance; and in the second, the Bagh tigers are no
ordinary tigers either. The sahibs are totally mistaken. These tigers
are the servants of the Sadhus, of the holy miracle-workers, who have
haunted the caves now for many centuries, and who deign sometimes to
take the shape of a tiger. And neither the gods, nor the Sadhus, nor
the glamour, nor the true tigers are fond of being disturbed in their
nightly rest.
What could we say against all this? We cast one more sorrowful look
at the caves, and returned to our antediluvian carriages. The Babu and
Narayan said we must spend the night at the house of a certain "chum"
of the Babu, who resided in a small town, three miles further on, and
bearing the same name as the caves; and we unwillingly acquiesced.
Many things in India are wonderful and unintelligible, but one of the
most wonderful and the most unintelligible, is the geographical and the
topographical disposition of the numberless territories of this country.
Political conjunctures in India seem to be everlastingly playing the
French game casse-tete, changing the pattern, diminishing one part and
adding to another. The land that only yesterday belonged to this Raja or
that Takur, is sure to be found today in the hands of quite a different
set of people. For instance, we were in the Raj of Amjir in Malva, and
we were going to the little city of Bagh, which also belongs to Malva
and is included in the Amjir Raj. In the documents, Malva is included
in the independent possessions of Holkar; and nevertheless the Amjir Raj
does not belong to Tukuji-Rao-Holkar, but to the son of the independent
Raja of Amjir, who was hanged, "by inadvertence" as we were assured, in
1857. The city, and the caves of Bagh, very oddly belong to the Maharaja
Sindya of Gwalior, who, besides, does not own them personally, having
made a kind of present of them, and their nine thousand rupees of
revenue, to some poor relation. This poor relation, in his turn, does
not enjoy the property in the least, because a certain Rajput Takur
stole it from him, and will not consent to give it back. Bagh is
situated on the road from Gujerat to Malva, in the defile of Oodeypur,
which is owned accordingly by the Maharana of Oodeypur. Bagh itself is
built on the top of a woody hillock, and being disputed property does
not belong to any one in particular, properly speaking; but a small
fortress, and a bazaar in the centre of it are the private possessions
of a certain dhani; who, besides being the chieftain of the Bhimalah
tribe, was the personal "chum" of our Babu, and a "great thief and
highway robber," according to the assertions of the said Babu.
"But why do you intend taking us to the place of a man whom you consider
as a thief and a robber?" objected one of us timidly.
"He is a thief and a brigand," coolly answered the Bengali, "but only in
the political sense. Otherwise he is an excellent man, and the truest
of friends. Besides, if he does not help us, we shall starve; the bazaar
and everything in the shops belong to him."
These explanations of the Babu notwithstanding, we were glad to learn
that the "chum" in question was absent, and we were received by a
relation of his. The garden was put at our disposal, and before our
tents were pitched, we saw people coming from every side of the garden,
bringing us provisions. Having deposited what he had brought, each of
them, on leaving the tent, threw over his shoulder a pinch of betel and
soft sugar, an offering to the "foreign bhutas," which were supposed to
accompany us wherever we went. The Hindus of our party asked us,
very seriously, not to laugh at this performance, saying it would be
dangerous in this out-of-the-way place.
No doubt they were right. We were in Central India, the very nest of
all kinds of superstitions, and were surrounded by Bhils. All along the
Vindya ridge, from Yama, on the west of the "dead city," the country is
thickly populated by this most daring, restless and superstitious of all
the half-savage tribes of India.
The Orientalists think that the naive Bhils comes from the Sanskrit root
bhid, which means to separate. Sir J. Malcolm supposes accordingly that
the Bhils are sectarians, who separated from the Brahmanical creed,
and were excommunicated. All this looks very probable, but their tribal
traditions say something different. Of course, in this case, as in every
other, their history is strongly entangled with mythology; and one has
to go through a thick shrubbery of fancy before reaching the tribe's
genealogical tree.
The relation of the absent dhani, who spent the evening with us, told
us the following: The Bhils are the descendants of one of the sons of
Mahadeva, or Shiva, and of a fair woman, with blue eyes and a white
face, whom he met in some forest on the other side of the Kalapani,
"black waters," or ocean. This pair had several sons, one of whom, as
handsome as he was vicious, killed the favorite ox of his grandfather
Maha-deva, and was banished by his father to the Jodpur desert. Banished
to its remotest southern corner, he married; and soon his descendants
filled the whole country. They scattered along the Vindya ridge, on
the western frontier of Malva and Kandesh; and, later, in the woody
wilderness, on the shores of the rivers Maha, Narmada and Tapti. And all
of them, inheriting the beauty of their forefather, his blue eyes and
fair complexion, inherited also his turbulent disposition and his vice.
"We are thieves and robbers," naively explained the relative of the
Babu's "chum," "but we can't help it, because this is the decree of our
mighty forefather, the great Maha-deva-Shiva. Sending his grandson to
repent his sins in the desert, he said to him: 'Go, wretched murderer of
my son and your brother, the ox Nardi; go and live the life of an exile
and a brigand, to be an everlasting warning to your brethren!... ' These
are the very words of the great god. Now, do you think we could
disobey his orders? The least of our actions is always regulated by our
Bhamyas--chieftains--who are the direct descendants of Nadir-Sing, the
first Bhil, the child of our exiled ancestor, and being this, it is only
natural that the great god speaks to us through him."
Is not it strange that Apis, the sacred ox of the Egyptians, is honored
by the followers of Zoroaster, as well as by the Hindus? The ox Nardi,
the emblem of life in nature, is the son of the creating father, or
rather his life-giving breath. Ammianus Marcellinus mentions, in one of
his works, that there exists a book which gives the exact age of Apis,
the clue to the mystery of creation and the cyclic calculations. The
Brahmans also explain the allegory of the ox Nardi by the continuation
of life on our globe.
The "mediators" between Shiva and the Bhils possess such unrestricted
authority that the most awful crimes are accomplished at their lightest
word. The tribe have thought it necessary to decrease their power to a
certain extent by instituting a kind of council in every village. This
council is called tarvi, and tries to cool down the hot-headed fancies
of the dhanis, their brigand lords. However, the word of the Bhils is
sacred, and their hospitality is boundless.
The history and the annals of the princes of Jodpur and Oodeypur confirm
the legend of the Bhil emigration from their primitive desert, but how
they happened to be there nobody knows. Colonel Tod is positive that the
Bhils, together with the Merases and the Goands, are the aborigines of
India, as well as the tribes who inhabit the Nerbuda forests. But why
the Bhils should be almost fair and blue-eyed, whereas the rest of
the hill-tribes are almost African in type, is a question that is not
answered by this statement. The fact that all these aborigines call
themselves Bhumaputra and Vanaputra, sons of the earth and sons of
the forest, when the Rajputs, their first conquerors, call themselves
Surya-vansa and the Brahmans Indu-putras, descendants of the sun and
the moon, does not prove everything. It seems to me, that in the present
case, their appearance, which confirms their legends, is of much greater
value than philology. Dr. Clark, the author of Travels in Scandinavia,
is very logical in saying that, "by directing our attention on the
traces of the ancient superstitions of a tribe, we shall find out who
were its primitive forefathers much more easily than by scientific
examination of their tongue; the superstitions are grafted on the very
root, whereas the tongue is subjected to all kinds of changes."
But, unfortunately, everything we know about the history of the Bhils is
reduced to the above-mentioned tradition, and to a few ancient songs
of their bards. These bards or bhattas live in Rajistan, but visit
the Bhils yearly, in order not to lose the leading thread of the
achievements of their countrymen. Their songs are history, because the
bhattas have existed from time immemorial, composing their lays for
future generations, for this is their hereditary duty. And the songs of
the remotest antiquity point to the lands over the Kalapani as the
place whence the Bhils came; that is to say, some place in Europe. Some
Orientalists, especially Colonel Tod, seek to prove that the Rajputs,
who conquered the Bhils, were newcomers of Scythian origin, and that
the Bhils are the true aborigines. To prove this, they put forward some
features common to both peoples, Rajput and Scythian, for instance (1)
the worship of the sword, the lance, the shield and the horse; (2) the
worship of, and the sacrifice to, the sun (which, as far as I know,
never was worshiped by the Scythians); (3) the passion of gambling
(which again is as strong amongst the Chinese and the Japanese); (4)
the custom of drinking blood out of the skull of an enemy (which is also
practised by some aborigines of America), etc., etc.
I do not intend entering here on a scientific ethnological discussion;
and, besides, I am sure no one fails to see that the reasoning of
scientists sometimes takes a very strange turn when they set to prove
some favorite theory of theirs. It is enough to remember how entangled
and obscure is the history of the ancient Scythians to abstain from
drawing any positive conclusions whatsoever from it. The tribes that go
under one general denomination of Scythians were many, and still it is
impossible to deny that there is a good deal of similitude between the
customs of the old Scandinavians, worshipers of Odin, whose land indeed
was occupied by the Scythians more than five hundred years B.C. and the
customs of the Rajputs. But this similitude gives as much right to the
Rajputs to say that we are a colony of Surya-vansas settled in the West
as to us to maintain that the Rajputs are the descendants of Scythians
who emigrated to the East. The Scythians of Herodotus and the Scythians
of Ptolemy, and some other classical writers, are two perfectly distinct
nationalities. Under Scythia, Herodotus means the extension of land from
the mouth of Danube to the Sea of Azoff, according to Niebuhr; and to
the mouth of Don, according to Rawlinson; whereas the Scythia of Ptolemy
is a country strictly Asiatic, including the whole space between the
river Volga and Serika, or China. Besides this, Scythia was divided by
the western Himalayas, which the Roman writers call Imaus, into Scythia
intra Imaum, and Scythia extra Imaum. Given this lack of precision,
the Rajputs may be called the Scythians of Asia, and the Scythians
the Rajputs of Europe, with the same degree of likelihood. Pinkerton's
opinion is that European contempt for the Tartars would not be half
so strong if the European public learned how closely we are related
to them; that our forefathers came from northern Asia, and that our
primitive customs, laws and mode of living were the same as theirs; in
a word, that we are nothing but a Tartar colony... Cimbri, Kelts and
Gauls, who conquered the northern part of Europe, are different names of
the same tribe, whose origin is Tartary. Who were the Goths, the Swedes,
the Vandals, the Huns and the Franks, if not separate swarms of the same
beehive? The annals of Sweden point to Kashgar as the fatherland of
the Swedes. The likeness between the languages of the Saxons and the
Kipchak-Tartars is striking; and the Keltic, which still exists in
Brittany and in Wales, is the best proof that their inhabitants are
descendants of the Tartar nation.
Whatever Pinkerton and others may say, the modern Rajput warriors do
not answer in the least the description Hippocrates gives us of the
Scythians. The "father of medicine" says: "The bodily structure of these
men is thick, coarse and stunted; their joints are weak and flabby; they
have almost no hair, and each of them resembles the other." No man,
who has seen the handsome, gigantic warriors of Rajistan, with their
abundant hair and beards, will ever recognize this portrait drawn by
Hippocrates as theirs. Besides, the Scythians, whoever they may be,
buried their dead, which the Rajputs never did, judging by the records
of their most ancient MSS. The Scythians were a wandering nation, and
are described by Hesiod as "living in covered carts and feeding on
mare's milk." And the Rajputs have been a sedentary people from time
immemorial, inhabiting towns, and having their history at least several
hundred years before Christ--that is to say, earlier than the epoch of
Herodotus. They do celebrate the Ashvamedha, the horse sacrifice; but
will not touch mare's milk, and despise all Mongolians. Herodotus says
that the Scythians, who called themselves Skoloti, hated foreigners, and
never let any stranger in their country; and the Rajputs are one of
the most hospitable peoples of the world. In the epoch of the wars of
Darius, 516 B.C., the Scythians were still in their own district, about
the mouth of the Danube. And at the same epoch the Rajputs were already
known in India and had their own kingdom. As to the Ashvamedha, which
Colonel Tod thinks to be the chief illustration of his theory, the
custom of killing horses in honor of the sun is mentioned in the
Rig-Veda, as well as in the Aitareya-Brahmana. Martin Haug states that
the latter has probably been in existence since 2000-2400 B.C.----
But it strikes me that the digression from the Babu's chum to the
Scythians and the Rajputs of the antediluvian epoch threatens to become
too long, so I beg the reader's pardon and resume the thread of my
narrative.