The Promenades of the Fashionable World--Maidan--The Viceroy--British
Dominions in India.
No European or American walks out doors in India, excepting a promenade
early in the morning or late in the evening. They are either carried in
palanquins, or, which is more common, they keep a horse and carriage.
Observing the good old rule of adopting the custom of the country, I
also procured a phaeton and a gray Arab as well as the indispensable
Hindoo driver and runner, and I now invite the reader to take a ride
with me late in the afternoon, when hundreds of equipages fill the
fashionable driveways.
It is five o'clock in the afternoon, and the dim rays of the setting sun
allow us to lower the top of the carriage so that we may have an open
view all around. But before doing this, we must exchange the white
business suit and broad-brimmed Indian hat (which are made of the light
pith of an Indian shrub somewhat similar to our elder bush, and covered
with a thin layer of cotton) for the conventional black hat and coat,
for these people are dreadfully ceremonious. The _chandra_ takes his
place in the driver's seat, and the _badon_ on the steps behind the
carriage. They are both dressed in snow-white outer garments, which look
a good deal like a common nightgown, and a head dress consisting of ten
yards of white muslin, wound several times around the head in the shape
of a round turban. The Mohammedan coachmen and runners generally wear
the colors of their masters in the same manner as other native servants
do. In my case, of course, it was the red, white and blue sashes, belts
and turbans. The runner has his place on a step behind the carriage, and
it is his duty to jump off and run in front to clear the way whenever it
may be necessary.
We start from the Great Eastern hotel, where I first resided, down a
long street called Chowringhee road, which is two miles long and very
broad, and lined on the east side by English residences built of stone.
Every mansion stands in a large garden full of tropical trees and
plants, and surrounded by a stone wall five feet high. There are wide
double gates for carriage drives, and at these gates the durwan (gate or
doorkeeper) sits the whole day long. On the west side of the street runs
a double street-car track, and beyond this is an immense common parade
or pleasure ground, the Maidan, which extends to the Hoogley, a branch
of the Ganges. On the west side it is bounded by the Strand, and on all
other sides by a macadamized road about one hundred and fifty feet wide
and planted with large, shady trees on either side. The east side of
this road is already described. On the north side, from the river to
Chowringhee road, between Eden Garden and the palace, it is called the
Esplanade. Another hundred-foot-wide road runs south from the palace,
and divides the ground into halves. This is called the Red road because
it is macadamized with crushed red brick. From the Red road opposite
Fort William another great road runs to Chowringhee road. A great number
of foot-paths cross each other in all directions, and in the evening
these are crowded with people in oriental costumes going to their homes
in the suburbs.
Here and there are statues erected to the honor of prominent English
generals and statesmen, and certain parts of the grounds are also
dotted with small groups of palms and other tropical trees. All these
trees and plants are different from those growing in the North. Most of
them have very broad and thick leaves, nearly all of them bear beautiful
flowers, and many of them fruits. They are green the whole year round.
In the north-east corner of the grounds is a garden of about forty acres
which is called Eden. It is exceedingly beautiful and contains a great
variety of trees and flowers, an Indian pagoda, lakes, canals and
bridges, and thousands of birds enjoying an almost undisturbed
existence, and singing and twittering among the trees and flowers. Eden
Garden is surrounded by a low brick wall with several gates, the widest
of which is the one next to the Strand. Inside this gate is a high
orchestra stand, and below a square promenade on the fine grass plat.
From six to seven o'clock in the evening a military band plays to the
fashionable world which gathers here to take an evening walk.
[Illustration: GOVERNMENT HOUSE.]
A quarter of a mile below the Eden garden is the historical Fort
William, around which Lord Clive and other heroes struggled to found the
British Empire of India. Below the fort and next to the Strand is the
drill-ground, and below this again a large race course. South of Maidan
are several suburbs, and beyond these a zoological garden.
Driving past the imposing orange-colored palace of the viceroy, called
the government house, which very much resembles our capitol at
Washington, but is neither so large nor so elegant, we finally strike
the Esplanade, where the Chowringhee road meets the Red road. We stop a
few minutes at the Esplanade to take a look at the gay picture. The
Esplanade is crowded with a surging mass of humanity, all going from the
river bank to their homes in the Eastern part of the city. It is the
sixth day of the new moon, and thousands of men, women and children have
been down to the river, washed themselves in its waters, and offered
sacrifices consisting of fruits and flowers. The women are dressed in
white, red, yellow, green, blue or violet garments. The smallest
children sit astride on the left hip of their mothers, the men carry
large baskets of fruit, mostly bananas, on their heads for the river-god
received only a small portion, and the rest is to be eaten at home. Here
and there among the pedestrians is a well-to-do Hindoo who takes his
family, consisting of two or three wives and a crowd of children, to the
river in an ox-cart. There are hundreds of musicians and peddlers in the
throng, and all are joyful and rejoicing. It must be observed that only
people of the lower classes take part in such public demonstrations in
company with women and children. Fashionable women would never walk
beyond the gardens around their own houses and do not appear in company.
Soon carriages are seen passing by in long rows, either down the Red
road or to the right along the Esplanade toward the Strand. We follow
the latter and arrive at the river bank where thousands of people are
yet busy with their sacrifices or trading with peddlers for fancy goods
and dainties, while others listen to the music from peculiarly
constructed flutes and drums, which vie with each other in producing the
most ear-rending discord. Elegantly covered carriages swarm in four
lines up and down the road. Most of the occupants are Englishmen with
their ladies; but you may also see quite a number of Hindoo princes or
noblemen with their ladies in oriental costumes, or Parsee merchants in
black silk coats and high caps. To the right there is a veritable forest
of ship's masts extending along the beach for miles, and to the left
some native soldiers are being drilled. We drive down and have a chat
with the English officers and stop to see a game of polo played, the
native cavalry contesting with their English officers, all displaying a
wonderful skill. Every now and then a couple of young Englishmen or
officers on horseback meet each other, and yonder are two half-naked
Hindoos on a jog-trot carrying a load which looks like a big coffin, but
which turns out to be a palanquin occupied by a passenger who, in an
inclined position, smokes his cigar and takes as much comfort as he can
get in that primitive mode of traveling. But see there! At a given sign
hundreds of men arrange themselves in long rows with their faces turned
to the west, just as the sun sinks below the horizon; they prostrate
themselves with their faces turned toward Mecca, and say their evening
prayers. They are Mohammedans.
Returning we stop at the gate to the Eden garden where a large number of
equipages have already arrived before us, compelling us to wait for our
turn to drive up and get out of the carriage. The garden is now
illuminated by thousands of gas and electric lights; men, women and
children walk forth and back on the soft grass plats; the military band
plays well-known tunes; Chinese, Parsees, Jews, Hindoos and Arabs, in
the most varied costumes, mingle with each other and with the Europeans.
There are plenty of seats for such as wish to sit down and rest; but it
is now time for exercise, and they walk in rows of ten or more until the
band winds up its program for the evening by playing "God save the
Queen." In the midst of a general hurry and confusion we hunt up our
carriage which was to stop at a certain spot, and return to the
crossroad from which the roads of Maidan as well as the streets in the
city may be seen glimmering in the gaslight as far as the eye can reach.
When we reach home it is just time to dress for dinner, which generally
begins at eight o'clock, lasting two or three hours. As to fashionable
life, social pleasure, display of dress and finery, etc., Calcutta
excels every other place in the world.
[Illustration: PARSEE FAMILY.]
My exequatur not having arrived from London, I had to obtain a special
recognition from the viceroy as American consul-general, after which my
formal presentation took place. The Marquis of Ripon was viceroy during
my stay in India. On presenting my credentials I had a lengthy
conversation with him, and learned to admire him from that moment. From
my memorandum book written on that day I quote the following:
"Lord Ripon is a plain, manly man, whose character, head, and heart
would have made him a great man even if he had been born in obscurity,
but now he ranks as one of the highest, and is one of the wealthiest
of the English nobles. He said, among other things, to me: 'I like
America and her people very much. I was there on a commission which
tended to make America and England better friends, and all such
efforts are well worthy all men (he referred to the Alabama treaty, in
which as Earl de Gray he was one of the commissioners). With American
and English ideas of liberty it is hard to understand how to rule
India. I would educate the natives,' said he, 'even if I believed that
it would be dangerous to English power, because it would be right to
do so; but I don't think it is dangerous. India has always had a few
very able and highly-educated men, while the millions have been in
utter ignorance and superstition, and such a condition is more
dangerous to English rule than if all are raised in the scale of
knowledge. My only object, and I think England's, in India, is to
benefit India. Our schools and railroads are doing away with
ignorance, and are fast destroying the _caste_ system. Considering the
natives as enemies, we must put on a bold front and fear no danger,
but be always on the guard.'"
Afterward I became intimately acquainted with this truly noble man, and
was proud and happy to be counted by him as one of his very few friends
in India who stood by him when the powerful Anglo-Indian bureaucracy
turned against him on account of his humane efforts to raise the natives
socially and politically. Unfortunately for India, she has not had many
British rulers like Lord Ripon, but most of them, in conjunction with
the office-holding class, rule India, not for the good of India, but for
their own interests.
Our British friends are certainly entitled to credit for the audacious
pluck which they showed when a handful of their soldiers and citizens
conquered that great country with its innumerable inhabitants. The only
thing, however, that made it possible to do so, and which makes it
possible to hold India to-day, is the internal strifes, the jealousies
and the religious intolerance among the natives themselves. If they were
united they could free the country from the foreigners in a month. But
why should they? The country is better governed than ever before, and it
is gaining fast in progress and prosperity. Still there is a deep hidden
feeling of ill-will toward the English, and the time will yet come when
a terrible struggle will be fought in India. Perhaps Russia will have a
hand in the fight. It will be a bloody, savage war, and will cause Great
Britain serious trouble. I said that India is better ruled now than ever
before; but that is not saying much, for it ought to be ruled still
better and more in the interest of the natives. India has civil service
with a vengeance, the office-holding class being even more arrogant,
proud and independent than the titled nobility. They rule the country
with an iron hand, regard it simply as a field for gathering in enormous
salaries, and after twenty-five years' service they return to England
with a grand India pension. The English look down upon the lower classes
with haughty contempt, chiefly because the latter try to insinuate
themselves into favor with the former by means of all kinds of flattery.
Nobody is of any account in India unless he is an officer, either civil
or military; hence all the best talent is circumscribed within narrow
office routine limits, and nothing is left for the peaceful industrial
pursuits except what the government may undertake to do, and that is
usually confined to railroad and canal improvements. England wants India
for a market, therefore nothing is done to encourage manufactures, but
rather to cripple them. With the cheapest and most skilled labor in the
world, the natives of India are compelled to buy even the cotton
garments they wear from England though they raise the cotton themselves,
and England is very careful not to establish a protective tariff in
India.