THE MAGNIFICENT PROCESSION OF THE SOWARI
Felix had to repeat his story, and he was regarded as quite a hero by the
Americans, though Sir Modava and other natives thought but little of it.
Mrs. Blossom continued to scold at him for not running away from the
serpents.
"How could I run away when I was surrounded by the snakes?" demanded Felix,
when the worthy lady's discipline became somewhat monotonous to him. "If I
had done what you say I should certainly have been bitten. I did better: I
climbed the tree, and bagged the whole four at my leisure."
"But snakes can climb trees," persisted the excellent woman.
"I suppose they can, but they don't always; and I knew the one nearest me
wouldn't do much climbing with a hole through his head. Besides, they say
the cobra does not come at you unless you meddle with him, like the
rattlesnake. I suppose I disturbed them, and they hoisted the flags to let
me know they were in town. I wanted to reduce the number of the varmints a
little."
"But why did Khayrat tell me I ought not to have shot a monkey?" asked
Morris.
"Because monkeys are harmless, and the Hindus consider them sacred. Before
you get to Calcutta you will find them housed in temples. Besides, the
natives are very tender of all animals," replied Sir Modava.
"In the hospital for lame ducks and superannuated bullfrogs we visited in
Bombay, do they take in sick cobras?" asked Felix. "Do they nurse lame
tigers?"
"They do not; it would not be quite safe to do so. Morris, the monkey you
shot will be decently buried," said the Hindu gentleman.
"I am willing; for, though they eat them in some countries, I don't hanker
after any monkey-flesh," replied the young hunter. "I met a man at my
father's house who had lived for years in Africa, and he said they ate the
boa-constrictor there,--the natives did, not the white people."
"So I have heard; but many Hindus never eat meat at all," added Sir Modava,
as the party retired to dress for dinner.
The party were to dine at the palace with the Guicowar, and it was to be a
state dinner. Though contrary to Hindu etiquette, the ladies were all
invited, and they were treated with "distinguished consideration." It was a
very elaborate occasion, and a few speeches were made at the last of it.
The principal one was by the king himself, who enlarged upon his relations
with Lord Tremlyn and Sir Modava, whom he regarded as two of his best
friends.
From this point, he dwelt upon his esteem for the commander of the
Guardian-Mother, who had rendered a service to India in saving them from
certain death, which they, better than he, could understand and appreciate.
Captain Ringgold and General Noury made fitting replies; and the party
returned, escorted by a score of torch-bearers, to the "Garden of Pearls"
as the summer palace in which they were lodged was called. They appeared
early in the morning, and after they had taken their coffee Louis and Felix
took a long walk outside the palace walls. At the gate they saw a little
animal which seemed disposed to make friends with them. They had brought
their guns with them, and Felix was on the point of firing at him when
Louis interposed.
"That's a mongoose," said the latter. "Haven't you heard of him?"
"Never did."
"The creature is a sort of ichneumon, with a long body, extending back of
his hind legs, which gradually decreases in size till it becomes his tail.
His body is long, even without the portion of it which belongs to his
caudal appendage. He has a small head and a sharp nose, and is something
like a weasel. He has the reputation of being the great serpent-killer of
India, and many wonderful stories are told of him. He is very useful about
a house in destroying rats and other small nuisances."
The mongoose ran along ahead of the boys while Louis told what he knew
about him. Felix protested that a little fellow like that couldn't do
anything with such a cobra as he had shot the day before, for the snake was
a trifle more than five feet long. They had gone but a short distance
farther before Khayrat stepped out from a tree which had concealed him.
"There's a cobra in here somewhere," said the officer, who was one of the
king's huntsmen. "I brought out my mongoose, but the little rascal has left
me."
"There he is, just ahead of us," replied Louis. "He seems like a kitten, he
is so tame."
"He is my pet, and I am very fond of him, for I think he saved my life
once. I was just on the point of stepping on a cobra when Dinky attacked
the snake and killed him after a fight," added Khayrat. "I think he is on
the track of the enemy, for the serpent killed two chickens last night."
"There he is!" exclaimed Felix, as he brought his gun to his shoulder.
"Don't fire! Let Dinky take care of him; for my pet is spoiling for a
fight, as one of the Americans said yesterday," interposed Khayrat.
The serpent was a large one, though not equal in size to the one Felix had
shot the day before. He had erected his head, and spread out his hood, and
he looked as ugly as sin itself. He knows all about the mongoose, and seems
to have an instinctive hatred of his little but mighty enemy.
The little snake-killer made a spring at him, and then skilfully whirled
himself around so that the snake could not bite him. Dinky knew what he was
about all the time; and though his foe struck at him several times, he
dodged him and put in several bites. After considerable manoeuvring, the
snake appeared to have had enough of it, and deemed it prudent to beat a
retreat. He dropped on the ground, and headed for a thicket; but this was
just what Dinky wanted. He sprang upon the neck of the cobra, placing his
fore-paws on him, and then crushed his spine with his sharp teeth. The
serpent was dead, after writhing an instant.
The fight was ended, and Khayrat caressed the victor. Louis declared that
the mongoose was a friend worth having, and immediately made a bargain with
the huntsman to procure him a couple of them, and send them to Calcutta.
They returned to the palace; and at the breakfast-table Louis told the
story of the battle, in which all the Americans were much interested. But
the business of the forenoon was the great Sowari, or public procession;
and the party were conveyed in carriages to the pavilion, from the veranda
of which they were to see the spectacle. An abundance of easy-chairs was
provided for them, and they were made very comfortable.
It required more than an hour for the procession to pass the point of
observation; and when the last of it had disappeared in the distance all
the Americans declared that they had never seen anything, even in Europe,
which could be compared with it in variety and magnificence. It was an
Oriental spectacle, and the tourists could easily believe they had
witnessed a pageant that had stepped out of the pages of the "Arabian
Nights."
First came the regular soldiers of the Maharajah, who were sepoys, all
under the command of English officers; and they marched like veterans who
had been drilling half their lives. They were followed by a company of
Arabs, who seemed to have been imported for the occasion. Sir Modava
explained what the troops were as they passed. Next came a whole squadron
of Mahratta cavalry, which looked as though they were serviceable soldiers
of that arm, for they were good riders, well mounted, and were all lusty
fellows.
After the cavalry came a troop of dromedaries with small cannons mounted on
their backs, with gunners to work the pieces. The military portion of the
procession was completed by several regiments of the Guicowar's special
army. Following the household troops, apparently acting as an escort, came
the royal standard-bearer, a personage of decided importance in an Oriental
pageant. He was mounted alone on a huge elephant, magnificently caparisoned
and adorned with the royal standard, a flag of cloth-of-gold, on a long
staff.
In front of the elephant marched a band of eighteen or twenty native
musicians, playing upon all sorts of Indian instruments, including
tom-toms, lutes, like flageolets, cymbals, and horns. Surrounding the great
beast that had the honor to bear the flag of the Mahratta States were
numerous horsemen, all clothed in the richest Oriental costumes, armed with
spears and curved sabres, with shining shields, and steel gauntlets on
their hands. All these, and all the others, wore white turbans,
picturesquely folded.
Behind the standard-bearer were two more elephants, each decked in all the
splendor of the East; and mounted upon them were some of the great
dignitaries of the court, over whom servants held highly fringed and
ornamented umbrellas. In the procession was a troop of camels, all dressed
out in the style of the horses and elephants. To say that the Americans
were dazzled by the splendor of the scene would be to state it very mildly,
for they were literally confounded and overwhelmed; and yet they had not
seen the great feature of the spectacle, the Guicowar himself. Sir Modava
had to talk very fast to describe the scene as it passed before them.
A dozen men, handsomely dressed like all the others, presently appeared,
each bearing on a long pole something that looked like a crown. This was a
sort of incense-censor, in which perfumes were burned, and from which a
column of blue vapor proceeded. They were immediately before one of the
king's elephants, which now came in front of the veranda. He was a gigantic
creature, bearing on his back a howdah of solid gold. He was robed like the
others, and the portions of his skin in sight were fantastically painted in
various designs.
The howdah was surmounted by two pyramidal roofs, one in front of the
other, supported by small columns. At the end of the elephant's tusks,
which were sawed off square, were attached bouquets of rich feathers. On
each side of the huge beast was a platform, suspended at the outside by
golden cords, on which stood four men very richly dressed. One of them
bears the hook, or pipe, presented to the Guicowar by the viceroy, another
waves a banner, and the others flourish fans of peacock feathers. In front
of the mahout is planted an ornament reaching nearly to the top of the
howdah.
The golden howdah was presented by the Queen and Empress of India, and
glitters with diamonds and other precious stones. The two domes make it
look like two pavilions, and in the forward one sits the Guicowar in solemn
dignity. He wears a tunic of scarlet velvet, which is covered with gold and
diamonds. In fact, he seems to have diamonds enough to freight a schooner.
Either he or one of his predecessors purchased a brilliant for which he
paid the bagatelle of four hundred thousand dollars. Under the rear
pavilion, and behind him, is the king's prime minister.
One of the officials at his side is the king's herald, who unfolds a flag
of cloth-of-gold, and flourishes it before the people, and there are not
less than a hundred thousand of them in the streets. As he does so he
announces in good Hindustanee and in a loud voice a proclamation:
"_Srimunt Sircar! Khunderao Guicowar! Sena Khas Khel! Shamshar
Bahadoor!_"
"Exactly so," said Felix in a low tone.
"I suppose it is not given to outsiders to know what all that means?" added
Louis.
"Certainly it is," replied Sir Modava. "It means, 'Behold the King of
Kings, Khunderao Guicowar, whose army is invincible, whose courage is
indomitable.'"
"Is that in a Pickwickian sense?" asked Scott.
"Not at all, for the Guicowar is as brave a man as ever put a foot into
shoe-leather, or went barefooted," replied Lord Tremlyn, "though there is a
little exaggeration common to the Orient in the proclamation."
As his Majesty came in front of the veranda the party rose and saluted him
with low bows, and the waving of handkerchiefs by the ladies. He responded
with a kingly smile and a graceful wave of the hand. The procession passed
on, and shortly afterwards the booming cannon announced that the moment of
the solemn benediction had come. The attentive officials of the court
presently appeared with the carriages, and an invitation to the whole
company to dine with the Guicowar again at his table.
They had to wait an hour for the king, but they found enough to interest
them in observing the coming of numerous other guests. In an ante-room the
floor was almost covered with shoes, many of them of the richest material,
even with precious stones upon them. Sir Modava explained that Eastern
etiquette required that the visitors going into the presence of the
Maharajah should remove their shoes, but that Europeans and Americans were
exempt from this requirement.
When the party entered they found the king seated in an apartment open to
the air of heaven on two sides. All were barefoot or in their stocking-feet
except the Gruicowar, who occupied a bench, or platform, at one side. He
had removed his state garments, and was dressed in a suit of white linen.
Most of the native officials present were seated on the floor; but the
gentlemen of the visitors were invited to sit with his Highness, though
only Lord Tremlyn and Sir Modava accepted it.