Due West: or, Round the World in Ten Months

CHAPTER VI

Arrival in India. – Tuticorin. – Madura. – Bungalows. – Reptiles and Insects. – Wonderful Pagoda. – Sacred Elephants. – Trichinopoly and its Temples. – Bishop Heber. – Native Silversmiths. – Tanjore. – The Rajah's Palace. – Pagoda and an Immense Stone Idol. – Southern India. – City of Madras. – Want of a Harbor. – In and about the Capital. – Voyage through the Bay of Bengal. – The Hoogly River. – Political Capital of India. – A Crazy King. – The Himalayas. – Sunset and Sunrise at Darjeeling.

We took passage in the British mail steamship Kebela from Colombo to Tuticorin, the extreme point of southern India, once famous for its pearl fisheries; but now as forsaken and sleepy a spot as can be found on any sea-coast. The distance from Colombo is less than two hundred miles through the Straits of Manar, and we landed on the following day, after a stormy passage, during which the rain came down with tropical profuseness. Ceylon, at harvest time on the plantations, imports laborers from the southern provinces of India, who are very glad thus to earn a small sum of money, a commodity of which they see little enough at home. Seven or eight hundred of these laborers, having fulfilled their object at the island, were returning to the main-land, and literally crowded the lower deck of the Kebela fore and aft. They formed rather picturesque groups as they reclined or stood in their rags, nakedness, and high colors combined.

When we got up the anchor in the harbor of Colombo, it seemed to be pleasant enough, but scarcely were we outside of the breakwater before the steamer began to roll and pitch like an awkward mule under the tickling application of the spur. Too much accustomed to the roughness of the sea to heed this, we were nevertheless very sorry for these exposed deck-passengers, few of whom escaped seasickness. Crowded together as they were during the copious rainfall, their sufferings that afternoon and night were pitiable. There were some families with women and children, and such shelter as a canvas awning could afford was kindly arranged for them. When we anchored in shoal water off the coast next morning, and the big flat-boats came to take them ashore, they had hardly strength and spirit sufficient to tumble into these craft, no doubt promising themselves, as usual, never, never again to quit the dry land. The water being very shallow, the Kebela anchored five miles from shore, making it necessary for us to take a small steam-launch to land at the little toy pier built on the beach. Our miniature vessel was tossed about like a bit of cork on the waves, but we had long since come to regard a wetting by salt-water as a trifling matter.

Tuticorin is a quaint old place of very little importance, dingy and dilapidated. It is represented to have twenty thousand inhabitants, but one would not have set the figure at more than half that number. There is still something done here in the pearl fisheries, though the most active stations are situated some thirty miles up the coast. We here got our first view of a new race of people, the East Indian proper, in his native land. It was easy to detect special differences in the race from the people left but a short day's sail behind us. They were tall and erect in figure, square shouldered, and broad chested. Their complexions were lighter, features clearer cut, and they were a more active race. They had not full lips or flat noses like the Singhalese and Malays; so that although there was a similarity between them, yet there was a strong difference when one came to sum up the characteristics of each.

The architecture of the town is peculiar, and the few old public buildings odd in the extreme. Tuticorin sends some cotton, rice, and cocoanuts to market, but its business must be very limited. An hour's walk took us all over the town without discovering any object of special interest. Being connected by rail with northern India, if there were depth of water sufficient for steamers to make a landing here, without lying five miles off shore, Tuticorin would certainly become an important Indian port. It was New Year's Day when we landed, and was apparently being celebrated in an humble way by the few people whom we saw. The children were displaying toys, playing games, and some bore flowers aloft arranged upon poles as wreaths and hoops. Itinerant peddlers were disposing of sweetmeats to eager boys and girls. Both the articles sold and the money which was paid for them looked new and strange. Some young maidens, in half-civilized attire, displayed high-colored garments and small scarlet kerchiefs on their heads. The passion for, and habit of wearing cheap jewelry, had been imported even here, and some of the extravagances of Colombo were copied by the women in ornamentation of ears, nose, and lips. Little babies were thus bedecked, and the tender ears of some consequently hung distorted and stretched three inches downward, both the upper rim and the lobe of the infant's ear being perforated with rings. Brass bangles on arms, wrists, and ankles were the rule, some of the men also wearing them. Here, on the main-land, the tattooing of the body seemed to have ceased, and the shining, naked skin of the men and women looked clean and healthy.

In the afternoon of the day on which we landed, the cars of the South Indian Railway were taken to Madura, one hundred miles northward, where we arrived late in the evening, and took lodging in a government bungalow, unfurnished, except by a few temporary articles improvised for the occasion, our meals being served at the railroad station not far away. The bungalow was in the midst of a grove of cocoanut palms which loomed high above our heads, laden with masses of the large brown fruit. It was dark and shady even at noonday. Close by was an ancient stone well, baths, and irrigating means, showing that where the jungle now is had formerly been a cultivated field with crops of grain. Native shanties were located all about the neighborhood, the people living mostly out of doors, gypsy fashion. It would be too hot to cook or to eat within these low-roofed mud walls. We found that flies, mosquitoes, and scorpions were inclined to dispute the possession of the bungalow with us; and ugly looking snakes were seen in such proximity to the low piazza as to suggest their uninvited entrance by doors or windows. India swarms with vermin, especially in the jungle. We did not fail to examine our shoes before putting them on in the morning, lest the scorpions should have established a squatter's right therein. Flying foxes were seen upon the trees, sometimes hanging motionless by the feet, at others swinging to and fro with a steady sweep. Ants were now and then observed moving over the ground in columns a foot wide and three or four yards long, evidently with a well defined purpose. In the morning light, after the sun had risen, clouds of butterflies, many-colored, sunshine-loving creatures, large and small, in infinite variety, flitted about the bungalow, some with such gaudy spread of wing as to tempt pursuit – but without a proper net they are difficult to secure. Large brown, bronze, and yellow beetles walked through the short grass with the coolness and gait of young poultry. Occasionally a chameleon turned up its singularly bright eye, as though to take cognizance of our presence. The redundancy of insect and reptile life is wonderful in southern India. The railroad stations and the road itself, admirably constructed and very fairly equipped, are the only evidences of European possession to be seen between Tuticorin and Tanjore, a distance of four hundred and fifty miles. The road passes through a generally well cultivated region where thrifty fields of wheat, barley, and sugar-cane were to be seen, with here and there broad fields of intensely yellow mustard, but the appearance of the people and their mud huts indicated abject poverty.

The principal attraction to the traveler in Madura, which contains some fifty thousand inhabitants, is a remarkable and ancient pagoda, supported by two thousand stone columns. It was dedicated to Parvati, wife of Shiva, and is one of the largest and finest monuments of Hindoo art in existence, covering in all its divisions, courts, shrines, colonnades, and tanks twenty acres of ground. It has nine lofty tower-like gates of entrance and exit, each one of which has the effect of forming an individual pagoda. In the central area of the temple is what is known as the Tank of the Golden Lotus, being a large body of water covering a couple of acres of ground, leading into which are broad stone steps on all sides, where the people of both sexes were bathing for religious purification; an idea not hardly compatible with the filthy condition of the water itself, which was nearly covered with a green slime. The temple contains many living sacred elephants, deified bulls and cows, enshrined idols, and, to us, meaningless ornamentations, too varied and numerous for description. Our local guide stated the probable cost at a figure so high we refrain from recording it. The elephants rivaled the beggars in their importunities, being accustomed to receive unlimited delicacies from visitors, such as sweetmeats, cakes, candies, and the like, of which these creatures are immoderately fond. One peculiarity of this temple was that it seemed to serve a double purpose, being dedicated to trade and religion. Within its walls we found established a large number of trading booths, forming a sort of bazar or fair, where were exhibited dry goods, toys, domestic utensils, jewelry; in short, all sorts of fancy articles. Madura is famous for producing high-colored napkins, small shawls and table-cloths, all on fire with color, and here they were displayed in strong kaleidoscopic effect. We thought it must be the occasion of some special charitable fair, after the practice of religious societies in more modern countries; but were informed that these merchants were engaged in their regular vocation, and were permanent fixtures in the temple. The natives crowded about these small bazars, and seemed to freely invest the few coppers they had. We were followed about the courts, chapels, and departments of the immense structure by a motley and curious crowd, the girls and women satisfied to watch and stare at us; but the boys had imported a London and Dublin idea: turning cart-wheels, somersaults, and walking all about us on their hands, with feet in the air, to attract attention and elicit pennies. One little fellow gyrated about in a most marvelous style, keeping so persistently topsy-turvy as to grow black in the face, and we finally paid him to keep right side uppermost. Begging is reduced to a science in India, and our little party were beset, as by an army with banners.

Half a mile from this grand pagoda is situated Timal Naik's Tank, so named after the munificent rajah who built it. He reigned at Madura from 1621 to 1657, building palaces and temples by the score. The so-called tank is an artificial lake extending over six or eight acres, with a temple in its centre, very picturesque in effect, and approached only by boats. Timal Naik's palace was also visited, built some three hundred years ago, of granite, and a very remarkable piece of solid architecture it is for India to have produced, in that section, and at that epoch. The principal hall of this royal residence has over a hundred stone pillars supporting it. We were shown a grand Saracenic hall, with a noble dome nearly a hundred feet across, called the Hall of Justice. The whole of this grand palace is now being thoroughly restored, after having been permitted for half a century and more to fall into partial decay. We must not forget to mention the banqueting hall of the palace; nothing finer of this character exists in modern architecture. The whole was a surprise and delight, as we had not even read or heard of this Indian palace.

Another hundred miles northward by rail brought us to the city of Trichinopoly, where we were quartered at a government bungalow, as at Madura, taking our meals at the dining-room of the railroad station, and were most agreeably disappointed with both the service and the provisions. Surely some professional cook had dropped out of the skies and settled here. The food was prepared and served as delicately as at a Parisian café. The variety of fruit and pastry was a temptation to the most satiated appetite. Everything was neat and clean, the linen faultless, and the glass and china were of the choicest. We often recalled, when putting up with indifferent service and deprivations elsewhere, the admirable entertainment which we experienced so unexpectedly at this point. Here the famous Rock of Trichinopoly, from five to six hundred feet high, crested with the Temple of Ganesa, was ascended, and a group of pagodas visited of the most lofty and striking character, similar in extent and general design to those already spoken of. It is not long since, at the assembling of a thousand and more pilgrims upon this lofty and exposed Rock of Trichinopoly, a panic ensued from some unknown cause, when fully half of these pilgrims lost their lives by being crowded off and falling over the rocky precipice, a distance of five hundred feet. There is no protection to the narrow, winding path by which the apex is reached, and some nerve is required to accomplish the ascent.

The view from this eminence is exceptionally fine. The native town far below us looked as though it had been shaken up and dropped there in confusion by some convulsion of nature. There is no regularity in the laying out of the place; it is a confused mass of buildings, narrow paths, crooked roads, and low-built mud cabins. We visited what is called the silversmith's quarter, but it was utterly unlike what such a locality would be elsewhere, composed of one-story mud cabins, in narrow filthy lanes full of chickens, mangy dogs, cats, and quarrelsome children. No one but a native would suspect these hovels to contain choice and finely wrought silver ornaments, and that the entire manufacture was performed upon the spot. These workmen, nevertheless, have a reputation for the excellence and originality of their product, which extends beyond the borders of India. Boxes were produced from odd corners, which were full of exquisite silver work, forming such articles as bracelets, necklaces, rings, pins, belts, etc., from which our party made selections. Trichinopoly is also famous for the manufacture of cigars, called cheroots, exported to all parts of India and the East, and which keep employed the busy fingers of a large number of the men and women of the town. In passing the open doors of the dwellings, cabins, or huts, young girls and boys were seen rolling up the cheroots, sitting cross-legged beside low benches. The manufacture of cutlery is also a specialty here, and the place has some sixty thousand population. It will be remembered that the remains of Bishop Heber were buried at Trichinopoly, where he was drowned while bathing, in the year 1826. Here also occurred some fierce struggles between the French and English for the sovereignty of southern India.

Two hundred miles of night travel by rail brought us to Tanjore, a large fortified city, where we were again quartered in a government bungalow, there being no hotel designed to accommodate travelers. The palace of the late Rajah, an ancient building with lofty towers, and still occupied by the ex-queen, was quite interesting. We were permitted to examine its internal economy, and found by the library that her husband was a man of cultivation and taste, especially well read in the classics, and a good linguist. His bookcases showed several thousands of good and well-thumbed books in English, French, Latin, and Greek.

Here we saw a large gilded car of Juggernaut, the Indian idol, which makes its annual passage to and from the temple when the idol takes its yearly airing, and is drawn by thousands of worshipers, who have come from afar to assist at the strange and senseless festival. Pilgrims, delirious with fanaticism, do sometimes throw themselves under the ponderous wheels and perish there, but the stories current among writers upon the subject as to the large number of these victims are much exaggerated. This self-immolation, like that of the burning of widows upon their husband's funeral pyres, has latterly been suppressed. Between 1815 and 1826, fifteen thousand widows thus perished in India! We were told that in some native provinces the practice was even now secretly followed to some extent, but this is doubtful.

The grand pagoda of Tanjore has been rendered familiar to us by engravings and is truly remarkable, being esteemed the finest specimen in India of pagoda construction. It is fourteen stories high, and in the absence of figures we should say was over two hundred feet from the base to the top, and about eighty feet square at the ground. Among its other strange idols and emblems it contains, in the area before the main temple, in a demi-pagoda, the gigantic figure of a reclining bull, hewn from a single mammoth block of black granite, and supposed to be of great antiquity. It stands within an open space, raised some twelve feet above the surrounding court, upon a granite plinth of the same color, but how it could have been raised there intact is a marvel.

All of these structures are kindred in design, reproducing here at Tanjore the spirit and many of the same figures which were seen at Madura and Trichinopoly. As they are the temples of the same idolatrous race this is natural. All are many centuries in age, and are characterized by grotesqueness, lasciviousness, caricature, and infinite detail of finish. Though they are outrageously gaudy in colors, yet are they on so grand and costly a scale as to create amazement rather than disgust. It would seem that a people equal to such efforts must have been capable of something far better. In all grosser forms of superstition and idolatry, carnal and material elements seem to be essential to bind and attract the ignorant; and this was undoubtedly the governing policy of a religion embodying emblems so outrageous to Christian sensibility. This grand pagoda at Tanjore, taken as a whole, was the most remarkable religious monument we saw in India. The city has, as prominent local industries, the manufacture of silk, cotton, and muslins. It is also surrounded by vast rice-fields the product of which it largely exports to the north. Another day upon the cars traveling due north brought us to Madras, where we found a good hotel and excellent accommodations, to which we were in a frame of body and mind to do ample justice.

In traveling through southern India to this point, we observed frequently on the route of the railroad strange monuments and many ruins of temples, pagodas, and odd structures of stone, manifestly serving in by-gone ages some religious purpose. Now and again in open fields, or more generally by small groves of trees, there were mammoth stone elephants, horses, bulls and cows, more or less crumbled and decayed by the wear of centuries, but evidently objects of worship by the people who constructed them, being still held too sacred to be meddled with by the ignorant and superstitious natives, whose mud hovels cluster about them. At several points, away from any present villages or hamlets, large irregular circles of heavy, unwrought stones were observed in open fields, or near to some mounds of grass grown earth, perhaps covering the remains of former shrines. These seemed of the same character and called to mind the ancient débris which still exists at Stonehenge, and undoubtedly marked the spot of ancient sacrifice. Large flocks of goats tended by herdsmen were distributed over the plains, and so level is the country that the eye could make out these groups for miles away on either side of the track. Well cultivated plantations of sugar-cane, plantains, rice, wheat, and orchards of fruit were constantly coming into view from the cars. The olden style of irrigation was going on by means of the shaduf, worked by hand, the same as was done in the East four thousand years ago; while the very plow, rude and inefficient, which is used upon these plains to-day, is after the fashion belonging to the same period. Indeed, except that the railroad runs through southern India, there seems to have been no progress there for thousands of years. A lethargy of the most hopeless character appears to possess the people. Their mud cabins are not suitable covering for human beings, and are distanced in neatness by the colossal ant-hills of wooded districts. Such a degraded state of humanity can hardly be found elsewhere among semi-civilized races. The women seemed to be worn down by hardships, and were pitiable to look upon; but the men were of dark hue, straight in figure, always thin in flesh, and remarkably like our American Indians. Nudity is the rule among them, clothing the exception. It seems like a strange assertion, but it is a fact, two thirds of the human family go naked in the nineteenth century.

Madras is situated on the open Bay of Bengal, without even the pretense of a harbor, though a grand stone breakwater, like that at Ceylon, is in course of construction. It is after the plan which was adopted by De Lesseps at Port Said, forming the Mediterranean entrance of the Suez Canal. The material which is being employed for the purpose is also the same, and is composed of a conglomerate of small stones and cement in the form of large cubes. The Prince of Wales, when on his visit to India some five or six years since, laid the foundation stone of this structure, but though it is so much needed it seemed to us to grow very slowly. No more unprotected spot could be found on the surf-beaten shore of the Coromandel coast, so completely is it exposed to the fury of the northeast monsoons. It is singular that it was ever selected for a commercial port, being inaccessible to sailing vessels from October to January, and yet it was the first capital of the British possessions in India. Such a surf is nearly always to be found on the shore that nothing but the peculiar boats of the natives can pass it, and in foul weather it is in vain for even them to attempt it. Nevertheless along this inhospitable shore, for a distance of several miles, there extends a thriving, finely laid out city, with a population of nearly half a million.

Madras is spread out over a very large territory, with broad open fields and squares, some designed for drill grounds, some for games of ball, some purely as ornamental, with choice trees and shrubs. An abundant and handsome growth of trees all about the city, lining the thoroughfares and beautifying the open squares, testifies to the judicious attention given by the authorities to this species of ornamental and grateful shade, necessary in so warm a climate. We remember especially a fine and quite remarkable avenue of banyan-trees on what is called the Mowbray Avenue. The wide streets are admirably kept, being carefully macadamized, over which carriage wheels glide with noiseless motion. This description applies, however, only to the European portion of the town, with its fine public buildings, consisting of many literary and scientific institutions, as well as educational and charitable ones. The native portion of Madras is contracted, mean, and dirty in the extreme, the common people showing a degree of indigence and indifference to decency which is absolutely appalling to witness in so large a community, but it was quite in accordance with what we had observed farther south. The elaborate English fort is one of the strongest and best constructed fortifications in the East, forming a most prominent feature of the city, and crowning a moderate rise of ground contiguous to the shore with its attractive surroundings, white walls, graceful though warlike buildings, flower plats, and green, sloping banks. Fort George was the original name of Madras. The noble light-house is within the grounds, – a lofty structure considerably over a hundred feet in height, and visible nearly twenty miles at sea. Near this spot, along the coast to the northward, are the rock-cut temples of Mahabalihuram, rendered familiar by Southey's charming poetry.

At night we were lulled to sleep by the hoarse, sullen roar of the restless waters. By day it was curious to watch the long surf-washed beach, directly in front of our hotel, and to see the fishermen struggle with the waves in their frail, but well adapted native boats, called catamarans. These are constructed of three pieces of timber, ten or twelve feet long, tied securely together with cocoanut fibre; the middle one being longer than the others, and curved upwards at each end. Two men generally go together, and force them through the water with short paddles used alternately on either side. We saw them repeatedly washed off by the surf; but as they are naked and good swimmers, they either reach the boat again, or, if driven away from it by the sea and undertow, regain the shore. Sometimes only one is washed off, but not unfrequently both are compelled to swim back to the shore where the frail boat itself is soon after thrown high upon the beach by the power of the waves. We were told that it was a very rare circumstance for one of these Madras boatmen to lose his life by drowning, as they become such expert swimmers.