elephant. It is one of the mysteries that foreigners can never
understand. He carries a goad in each hand--a rod of iron, about
as big as a poker, with an ornamental handle generally embossed
with silver or covered with enamel. One of the points curves
around like half a crescent; the other is straight and both are
sharpened to a keen point. When the mahout or driver wants the
elephant to do something, he jabs one of the goads into his
hide--sometimes one and sometimes the other, and at different
places on the neck, under the ears, and on top of the head, and
somehow or another the elephant understands what a jab in a
particular place means and obeys cheerfully like the great,
good-natured beast that he is. I have never been able to understand
the system. Elephant driving is an occult science.
The road to Amber passes through an interesting part of the city
of Jeypore and beyond the walls the broad highway is crowded with
carts loaded with vegetables and other country produce coming
into town and quite as many loaded with merchandise going the
other way. Some of them are drawn by bullocks and some by camels;
there are long caravans of camels with packs and paniers upon
their backs. As you meet hundreds of pedestrians you will notice
that the women all have baskets or packages upon their heads. The
men never carry anything. On either side of the broad highway
are cultivated gardens and gloomy looking houses and acres covered
with ruins and crumbling tombs. The city of Amber, which, as
I have already told you, was once the capital of the province
and the scene of great splendor, as well as frequent strife,
is now quite deserted. It once had 50,000 inhabitants, but now
every house is vacant. Few of them even have caretakers. The
beautiful palace with its marble coverings, mosaics and luxuriant
gardens is occupied only by a number of priests and fakirs, who
are supposed to spend their time in meditation upon heavenly
things, and in obedience to an ancient custom they sacrifice a
sheep or a goat in one of the temples every morning. Formerly
human beings were slain daily upon this altar--children, young
girls, women and peasants, who either offered themselves for
the sake of securing advancement in reincarnation or were seized
by the savage priests in the absence of volunteers. This was
stopped by the British a century ago, and since then the blood
of rams and goats has atoned for the sins of Jeypore.
XI
ABOUT SNAKES AND TIGERS
A gentleman in Bombay told me that 50,000 people are killed in
India every year by snakes and tigers, and his extraordinary
statement was confirmed by several officials and others to whom I
applied for information. They declared that only about one-half of
the deaths from such causes were ever reported; that the government
was endeavoring to secure more complete and exact returns, and
was offering rewards for the destruction of reptiles and wild
animals. Under instructions from Lord Curzon the authorities
of the central government at Calcutta gave me the returns for
British India for the ten years from 1892 to 1902, showing a
total of 26,461 human beings and 88,019 cattle killed by snakes
and wild animals during the fiscal year 1901-2. This does not
include the mortality from these causes in the eighty-two native
states which have one-third of the area and one fourth of the
population of the empire. Nor does it include thousands of cases
in the more remote portions of the country, which are never reported
to the authorities. In these remote sections, vast areas of
mountains, jungles and swamps, the danger from such causes is
much greater and deaths are more frequent than in the thickly
settled portions; so that my friend's estimate was not far out
of the way.
The official statistics for British India only (the native states
not included) for the ten years named are as follows:
KILLED BY WILD ANIMALS AND SNAKES.
Persons Cattle
1892 21,988 81,688
1893 24,016 90,253
1894 24,449 96,796
1895 25,190 100,107
1896 24,322 88,702
1897 25,242 84,187
1898 25,166 91,750
1899 27,585 98,687
1900 25,833 91,430
1901 26,461 88,019
------- -------
Total ten years 250,252 907,619
Taking 1901 as a sample, I find that 1,171 persons were killed
by tigers and 29,333 cattle; 635 persons and 37,473 cattle were
killed by leopards; 403 human beings and 5,048 cattle were killed
by wolves; 1,442 human beings and 9,123 cattle were killed by
other wild animals, and 22,810 human beings and 5,002 cattle
by snakes. This is about the average record for the ten years,
although the number of persons killed by tigers in 1901-2 was
considerably less than usual.
The largest sacrifice of life was in the Province of Bengal, of
which Calcutta is the capital, and where the imperial authorities
have immediate control of such affairs. The government offers a
bounty of $1 for every snake skin, $5 for every tiger skin, and
a corresponding amount for other animals. During 1901-2, 14,301
wild animals were reported killed and 96,953 persons received
rewards. The number of snakes reported destroyed was 69,668 and
2,858 persons were rewarded. The total amount of rewards paid
was $33,270, which is much below the average and the smallest
amount reported for many years. During the last ten years the
amount of rewards paid has averaged about $36,000 annually. The
falling off in 1901-2 is due to the discovery that certain
enterprising persons had gone into the business of breeding snakes
for the reward, and had been collecting considerable sums from
the government by that sort of fraud. Hereafter no one will be
able to collect claims without showing satisfactory evidence
that the snakes were actually wild when killed or captured. It is
hardly necessary to say that no one has thus far been accused of
breeding tigers for the bounty, although large numbers of natives
are engaged in the business of capturing them for menageries and
zoological gardens.
In the maharaja's park at Jeypore we saw a dozen or more splendid
man-eating tigers, which, the keeper told us, had been captured
recently only twelve miles from that city. His Highness keeps a
staff of tiger hunters and catchers for amusement. He delights
in shooting big game, and several times a year goes into the
jungles with his native hunters and parties of friends and seldom
returns without several fine skins to add to his collection. His
tiger catchers remain in the woods all the time, and he has a
pleasant way of presenting the animals they catch to friends in
India, England and elsewhere. While we were in Jeypore I read in
a newspaper that the Negus of Abyssinia had given Robert Skinner
two fine lions to take home to President Roosevelt, and I am
sure the maharaja of Jeypore would be very glad to add a couple
of man-eating tigers if he were aware of Colonel Roosevelt's
love for the animal kingdom. I intended to make a suggestion in
that line to him, but there were so many other things to talk
about that it slipped my mind.
The maharaja catches tigers in the orthodox way. He has cages
of iron and the toughest kind of wood set upon wheels so that
they can be hauled into the jungle by oxen. When they reach a
suitable place the oxen are unhitched, the hunters conceal the
wheels and other parts of the wagon with boughs and palm leaves.
A sheep or a goat or some other animal is sacrificed and placed
in the cage for bait and the door is rigged so that it will remain
open in an inviting manner until the tiger enters and lifts the
carcass from the lever. The instant he disturbs the bait heavy
iron bars drop over the hole through which he entered and he is
a prisoner at the mercy of his captors. Sometimes the scheme
fails and the hunters lose their time and trouble and bait, but
being men of experience in such affairs they generally know the
proper place and the proper season to look for game. When the
watchers notify them that the trap is occupied they come with oxen
and haul it to town, where it is backed up against a permanent
cage in the menagerie, the iron door is lifted, and the tiger
is punched with iron bars until he accepts the quarters that
have been provided for him, and becomes a prisoner for life.
It is a terrible thing when a hungry and ugly man-eater comes
into a village, for the inhabitants are generally defenseless.
They have no guns, because the government does not allow the
natives to carry arms, and their only weapons are the implements
of the farm. If they would clear out and scatter the number of
victims would not be so large, but they usually keep together
for mutual defense, and, as a consequence, the animal has them
at his mercy. A man-eater that has once tasted human flesh is
never satiated, and attacks one victim after another until he
has made away with an entire village.
The danger from snakes and other poisonous reptiles is much greater
than from tigers and other wild beasts, chiefly because snakes
in India are sacred to the gods, and the government finds it
an exceedingly delicate matter to handle the situation as the
circumstances require. When a Hindu is bitten by a snake it is
considered the act of a god, and the victim is honored rather
than pitied. While his death is deplored, no doubt, he has been
removed from an humble earthly sphere to a much more happy and
honorable condition in the other world. Therefore, while it is
scarcely true that the Hindus like to be killed by snake poison,
they will do very little to protect themselves or cure the bites.
Nor do they like to have the reptiles killed for fear of provoking
the gods that look after them. The snake gods are numbered by
hundreds of thousands, and shrines have been erected to them
in every village and on every highway. If a pious Hindu peasant
sees a snake he will seldom run from it, but will remain quiet
and offer a prayer, and if it bites him and he dies, his heirs
and relatives will erect a shrine to his memory. The honor of
having a shrine erected to one's memory is highly appreciated.
Hence death from snake poison is by no means the worst fate a Hindu
can suffer. These facts indicate the difficulties the government
officials meet in their endeavors to exterminate reptiles.
Snake charmers are found in every village. They are usually priests,
monks or sorcerers, and may generally be seen in the neighborhood
of Hindu temples and tombs. They carry from two to twenty hideous
reptiles of all sizes in the folds of their robes, generally
next to their naked bosoms, and when they see a chance of making
a few coppers from a stranger they draw them out casually and
play with them as if they were pets. Usually the fangs have been
carefully extracted so that the snakes are really harmless. At
the same time they are not agreeable companions. Sometimes snake
charmers will allow their pets to bite them, and, when the blood
appears upon the surface of the skin, they place lozenges of
some black absorbent upon the wounds to suck up the blood and
afterward sell them at high prices for charms and amulets.
When Mr. Henry Phipps of New York was in India he became very
much interested in this subject. His sympathies were particularly
excited by the number of poor people who died from snake bites
and from the bites of wild animals, without medical attention.
There is only one small Pasteur institute in India, and it is
geographically situated so that it cannot be reached without
several days' travel from those parts of the empire where snakes
are most numerous and the mortality from animals is largest.
With his usual modesty, without saying anything to anybody, Mr.
Phipps placed $100,000 in the hands of Lord Curzon with a request
that a hospital and Pasteur institute be established in southern
India at the most accessible location that can be found for the
treatment of such cases, and a laboratory established for original
research to discover antidotes and remedies for animal poisons.
After thorough investigation it was decided to locate the institute
in the Province of Madras. The local government provided a site
and takes charge of its maintenance, while the general government
will pay an annual subsidy corresponding to the value of the
services rendered to soldiers sent there for treatment.
While we were waiting at a railway station one morning a
solemn-looking old man, who, from appearances, might have been
a contemporary of Mahomet, or the nineteenth incarnation of a
mighty god, squatted down on the floor and gazed upon us with a
broad and benevolent smile. He touched his forehead respectfully
and bowed several times, and then, having attracted attention and
complied with the etiquette of his caste, drew from his breast
a spry little sparrow that had been nestling between his cotton
robe and his bare flesh. Stroking the bird affectionately and
talking to it in some mysterious language, the old man looked up
at us for approval and placed it upon the pavement. It greeted
us cordially with several little chirps and hopped around over
the stone to get the kinks out of its legs, while the old fakir
drew from his breast a little package which he unfolded carefully
and laid on the ground. It contained an assortment of very fine
beads of different colors and made of glass. Taking a spool of
thread from the folds of his robe, the old man broke off a piece
about two feet long and, calling to the bird, began to whistle
softly as his pet hopped over toward him. There was evidently
a perfect understanding between them. The bird knew what was
expected and proceeded immediately to business. It grasped the
lower end of the thread in its little claws as its trainer held
it suspended in the air with the other end wound around his
forefinger, and swung back and forth, chirruping cheerfully.
After swinging a little while it reached the top, and then stood
proudly for a moment on the fakir's finger and acknowledged our
applause. Then it climbed down again like a sailor or a monkey
and dropped to the ground. I had never seen an exhibition so
simple and yet unusual, but something even better was yet to
come, for, in obedience to instruction, the little chap picked
up the tiny beads one after another with his bill and strung
them upon the thread, which it held with its tiny toes.
XII
THE RAJPUTS AND THEIR COUNTRY
In India, as everywhere else, the climate and physical features
of the country have exercised a sharp and lasting influence upon
the race that lives therein. The noblest characters, the brave,
the strong, the enduring and the progressive come from the north,
where the air is keen and encourages activity, while those who
dwell in the south have hereditary physical and moral lassitude.
The geographical names are typical of the people. They all mean
something and have a poetical and oftentimes a political
significance. "The Mountains of Strength" encompass a plateau
called "The Abode of Princes," and beyond and behind them stretches
a desert called the "Region of Death." This country is called
the Rajputana--pronounced Raashpootana--and is composed of the
most interesting of all the native states of India, twenty in
number, with an area of 150,000 square miles and a population
of more than 12,000,000. They are the only part of the empire
where ancient political institutions and dynasties survive, and
their preservation is due to the protection of the British
authorities. Each prince is the hereditary chief of a military
clan, the members of which are all descended from a common ancestor,
and for centuries have been the lords of the soil. Many of the
families are Mohammedans, and they are famous for their chivalry,
their loyalty, their independence and love of the truth. These
characteristics, I contend, are largely due to the climate and
the topography of the territory in which they live.
Mount Abu, the sacred Olympus of western India, a huge heap of
granite rising 5,650 feet above the sea, is in the center of
Rajputana. It is called the "Pinnacle of the Saints," and upon
its summit may be found the highest ideals of Indian ecclesiastical
architecture in a group of five marble temples erected by
peace-loving and life-protecting Jains, the Quakers of the East.
These temples were built about a thousand years ago by three
brothers, pious merchant princes, Vimala Sah, Tejpala and Vastupala.
The material was carried more than 300 miles over mountains and
across plains--an undertaking worthy of the ancient Egyptians.
The columns and pillars, the cornices, the beams that support the
roofs, the arches of the gateways, windows and doors, the sills
and lintels, the friezes and wainscoting, all of the purest and
daintiest marble, were chiseled by artists of a race whose creed
pronounces patience to be the highest virtue, whose progenitor lived
8,000,000 years, and to whom a century is but a day. The purpose
of the prayers of these people is to secure divine assistance in
the suppression of all worldly desires, to subdue selfishness,
to lift the soul above sordid thoughts and temptations. Therefore
they built their temples amid the most beautiful scenery they
could find. They made them cool and dark because of the heat and
glare of this climate, with wide porticoes, overhanging eaves that
shut out the sunshine and make the interior one great refreshing
shadow, tempting the warm and weary to enter the cool twilight,
for all the light they have is filtered through screens made of
great sheets of fine-grained marble, perforated with tracery
and foliage designs as delicate as Brussels lace.
In the center of this wonderful museum of sculpture, surrounded
by a forest of carved columns, which in the minuteness and beauty
of detail stand almost unrivaled even in this land of lavish labor
and inexhaustible patience, sits the image of Parswanatha, the god
of Peace and Plenty, a divinity that encourages love and gentleness
and truth, to whom these temples were dedicated. He is seated upon
an exquisite platform of alabaster, with legs crossed and arms
folded, silent and immovable, engaged in the contemplation of the
good and beautiful, and his lips are wreathed in a smile that
comprehends all human beings and will last throughout eternity.
Around this temple, as usual with the Jains, is a cloister--a
wide colonnade supported by a double row of pillars. There are
fifty-five cells opening upon it, but instead of being occupied
by monks or priests, in each of them, upon a throne of lotus
leaves, sits an exact miniature duplicate of the image of the same
god, in the same posture, with the same expression of serene and
holy calm. A number of young priests were moving about placing
fresh flowers before these idols, and in the temple was a group
of dusty, tired, hungry, half-naked and sore-footed pilgrims,
who had come a long way with packs on their backs bearing their
food and seeking no shelter but the shade of temples or trees.
Here at last they found rest and relief and consolation, and it
seems a beautiful religion that requires nothing more from its
devotees.
The forty-eight columns which sustain the dome of this temple
have been pronounced the most exquisite examples of carved marble
in existence, and the highest authority on Indian architecture
declares that the dome "in richness of ornament and delicacy
of detail is probably unsurpassed in the world."
Facing the entrance to the temple is a square building, or portico,
containing nine large white elephants, each carved from a monolith
of marble. Originally they all had riders, intended to represent
Vimala Sah, the Jain merchant, and his family going in procession
to worship, but several of the figures have been broken entirely
away and others have been badly damaged. These five temples, with
their courtyards and cloisters, are said to have cost $90,000,000
and to have occupied fourteen years in building, from 1032 to
1046 A. D.
Mount Abu is the headquarters of the Rajputana administration,
the hot weather station for the British troops, and the favorite
summer resort of the European colonies of western India. The
mountain is encircled with well-made roads, winding among the
forests, and picturesque bridle paths. There are many handsome
villas belonging to officials and private citizens, barracks,
schools, asylums, clubs and other modern structures.
In several of the larger cities of the province can be found
temples similar to those I have described; some of them of Saracenic
architecture, equal to that of the Alhambra or the Persian palaces.
The pure Hindu designs differ from the Saracenic as widely as
the Gothic from the Romanesque, but often you find a mixture
embracing the strongest features of both. The rich and the strong
gave expression to their own sense of beauty and taste when by
the erection of these temples they sought to honor and glorify
the gods to whom they pray.
Ajmere, the winter capital of the governor general of Rajputana,
is one of the oldest and most beautiful cities of western India,
having been founded only a hundred years after the beginning of
the Christian era, and occupying a picturesque position in an
amphitheater made by the mountains, 3,000 feet above the sea.
It is protected by a stone wall, with five gateways; many of the
residences and most of the buildings are of stone, with ornamental
façades, and some of them are of great antiquity. In the olden
days it was the fashion to build houses to last forever. Ajmere
has a population of about 70,000. It is surrounded by a fertile
country, occupied by an industrious, wealthy, and prosperous
people. The city is commanded by a fortress that crowns a noble
hill called "The Home of the Stars," possesses a mosque that
is one of the most successful combinations of Hindu and Saracenic
architecture of which I have spoken, the conception of some unknown
genius, combining the Mohammedan ideas of grandeur with Hindu
delicacy of taste and prodigality of detail. In its decorations
may be found some of the most superb marble embroidery that the
imagination can conceive of. One of the highest authorities dates
its erection as far back as the second century before Christ, but
it is certainly of a much later date. Some architects contend that
it belongs to the fourteenth century; it is however, considered
the finest specimen of early Mohammedan architecture in existence.
The mosque can be compared to a grand salon, open to the air at
one side, the ceiling, fifty feet high, supported by four rows
of columns, eighteen in each row, which are unique in design, and
no two of them are alike. The designs are complex and entirely
novel, and each is the work of a different artist, who was allowed
entire liberty of design and execution, and endeavored to surpass
his rivals.
There are several other mosques and temples of great beauty in
Ajmere, and some of them are sacred places that attract multitudes
of pilgrims, who are fed daily by the benevolence of rich
contributors. Enormous rice puddings are cooked in eight enormous
earthen caldrons, holding several bushels each, which are ready
at noon every day. The composition contains rice, butter, sugar,
almonds, raisins and spices, and to fill all of the eight pots
costs about $70. The moment the pudding is cooked a bell is rung,
and the pilgrims are allowed to help themselves in a grab-game
which was never surpassed. Greedy creatures scald themselves in
the pudding so badly that they sometimes carry the marks for
life. It is counted a miracle caused by the intercession of the
saints that no lives have ever been lost in these scrambles,
although nearly every day some pilgrim is so badly burned that
he has to be taken to a hospital. The custom is ancient, although
I was not able to ascertain its origin or the reason why the
priests do not allow the pudding to cool below the danger point
before serving it.
Ajmere is the headquarters of one of the greatest railways in
India, with extensive shops, employing several thousand natives
and Europeans. The chief machinists, master mechanics and engineers
are almost exclusively Scotchmen.