Due West: or, Round the World in Ten Months

Jeypore is well fortified, and the prince keeps up a modest military organization. In driving about the city we observed long rows of dwelling-houses, rose-tinted, with pretty verandas and latticed windows, besides numerous large and well-arranged public structures devoted to educational purposes; some for teaching music, others devoted to the fine arts, and some to the primary branches of education, such as arithmetic, geography, etc. We were told that several able foreign teachers were in the Maharajah's employment, the schools all being free. Among the public buildings we noticed the palace, half a mile long, and eight stories high, well divided into courts, gardens, and public halls. In one of the latter was being held an extensive fair of Indian goods and manufactures, which for variety, comprehensiveness, richness of the articles, and judicious arrangement, would have done credit to any European city. We noticed a public mint, an observatory, a hospital, and a large arsenal. All these, as well as a very considerable number of the dwelling-houses, bore a certain conspicuous mark, showing them to belong to the Maharajah. He is much more western than eastern in his ideas; more ready to expend his large revenue for the public good than to build Peacock Thrones, which at the same time excite the marvel and cupidity of the world; and so this very presentable city, in the heart of India, is a mixture of Orientalism and European innovation, the streets even being lighted by gas. Though, to speak honestly, this last fact seemed a trifle out of place; wild monkeys and crocodiles in the environs, and gaslights in the streets!

Jeypore is a beautiful little city, and ancient withal, though there are no ruins here; everything gives evidence of present prosperity, peace, and abundance. The houses are painted in a toy-like manner, but are neat and pretty. Queer little canvas-covered, two-wheeled carts, their tops shaped like half an egg-shell, and drawn by a single bullock, trot about the streets in a very lively fashion, some of them closely curtained containing women of the harem, but one sees few women except of the humble class; Oriental exclusion is observed here. Under this prince's seemingly wise rule the population exhibit a marked and favorable contrast to that of India generally, over which the authority of Great Britain extends. There are no mud cabins, no visible want. We did not see a beggar in all Jeypore. The people are decently clothed, and well-lodged in nice-looking houses, most of which are two stories high. The streets are exceptionally broad and neatly kept, being regularly sprinkled by coolies to lay the dust, though in a primitive manner. These fellows carry goat skins, filled with water, fastened to their backs, with the neck coming forward under the right arm, and by swinging the nozzle from side to side the street gets a uniform wetting. This same mode is adopted even in so large a city as Calcutta, where a Yankee watering-cart would supersede the services of twenty-five coolies who are thus employed. Many fountains ornament the streets of Jeypore, placed in the centres of open squares. The expression upon the faces of the people is that of smiling content; in short, an air of thrift pervades everything. All this was in such decided contrast to those portions of the country which we had visited as to make a strong impression, and lead to some deductions not entirely favorable to English rule in India.

In speaking of this subject to an intelligent English resident, he replied that we had seen an exceptional specimen of the native control in this instance; and that other regions of India, were we to visit them, would present a very different state of affairs, all of which may be true. We ventured however, for the sake of argument, to question the justice of the tenure by which England held possession of India, and were promptly answered: "We conquered this territory from the Mohammedan invaders, who were ruling it with a rod of iron. Our coming has been and is a deliverance. We did not even overthrow the Mohammedan Empire. That was done by the Mahrattas, under French officers, from whom, in 1803, we rescued the Emperor, whose descendants we have ever since pensioned. None of the princes and sultans whom we have deposed were hereditary sovereigns. They were actually rebellious viceroys and governors who had assumed their position during the confusion of the times. In short, that our rule is a blessing to India, to-day, does not admit of an argument." We frankly acknowledged very modified feelings upon the subject since arriving in the country.

Wild animals are abundant in the neighborhood, the tiger especially being hunted and feared, and not without abundant reason; for here, as at Singapore, men, women, and children are daily sacrificed to their rapacious appetites in some part of the district. It is said to be a fact that these animals, in their wild state, having once tasted human flesh, will be satisfied with no other food; but will leave the antelope and smaller game, known to be comparatively plenty in the neighborhood of the jungle, and lie in wait for days to capture human prey, even stealing at night within the precincts of the villages, and among the native huts. They exhibit great cunning in their attacks, rarely showing themselves when there is more than one person present, and never doing so where there are numbers, except when driven in the hunt. Instinct teaches them that one individual may be overcome, but that two or three are capable of victoriously defending themselves. The natives set ingenious traps for the tigers, and many are captured, for which they receive a bounty. The usual trap is formed by digging a well in the earth, ten feet square and fifteen feet or more in depth, wider at the bottom than the top. This is ingeniously covered with light branches and leaves, and located in the path where a tiger has been tracked. For some reason this animal, having once passed through a jungle, will ever after follow as nearly as possible his own foot-prints, and can thus easily be led into a pitfall of the character we have described. Having once got into this well he cannot possibly get out, and here he is permitted to become so nearly starved as to deprive him of all powers of resistance, in which condition he is secured. A little food and water soon restores him to his normal condition, when he finds himself a prisoner in a stout cage, behind strong iron bars. For a few days after his capture the animal's rage knows no bounds, and his struggles to free himself are ceaseless, sometimes even ending in self-inflicted death by dashing himself head foremost upon the bars. If not an old animal, he, however, generally subsides into sullen acceptance of the situation after a day or two.

We were shown half a dozen lately taken and confined separately in strong cages in one of the open squares of the city. Two of them had a very bad record, and were real man-eaters, having a score or more of coolies charged to their account. These were all condemned to be killed, as they proved to be too old to sell for exhibition in the European markets, but the young ones are often thus disposed of. A tiger, one or even two years old, can be tamed and rendered quite docile for menagerie purposes; but when taken wild at an age exceeding these figures they are never quite safe. Those which we saw in the square at Jeypore were splendid specimens of their race, full of fire and rage, chafing at their imprisonment, and springing violently against the iron bars of their cages at every one who approached them. They were quite unlike the poor beasts of the menageries, who have had all their spirit and savage instincts subdued by confinement.

Having obtained the necessary permit to visit the royal summer palace of Ambar, a few miles from the city walls, among the picturesque hills, elephants, belonging to the Maharajah were sent for us, and we mounted them, the animals kneeling at the word of command for us to do so. Our party, six in number, was divided so that four persons, including the driver, rode on each elephant. They were large and docile creatures, being respectively seventy and ninety years of age. Their shuffling, flat-footed tread is peculiar, but not very unpleasant, except when the driver hurries the animals; but even then the gait is not nearly so trying to the rider as is that of the camel, which is only comparable to a Cunarder pitching in a head sea. The elephants seem to be very easily controlled by the driver, who, however, is armed with a steel-pointed weapon which he resorts to freely if his directions are not obeyed, and the animal evidently stands in mortal dread of the instrument. All classes of the people ride upon the camel here, from the prince to the peddler; but the elephant is only in common use among the nabobs and members of the royal household, officers of state, and the like. It costs as much to keep and support an elephant as it does to maintain eight horses or ten camels, the latter animal thriving on cheap food.

A visit to the summer palace was very interesting, the local guide pointing out every object of note, and explaining all clearly. That part of the spacious buildings reserved for the harem was simply perfection, in point of luxury, as conceived from an Oriental stand-point. The audience rooms, the throne room, the domestic living rooms, and the various offices of the palace, were large and admirably arranged, furnished in the Eastern fashion. The white marble work was everywhere exquisite in its finish, and, wherever it was possible, superseded the use of wood. The windows, opening from all the general apartments, afforded views across the hills, valleys, and lakes of the city of Jeypore, two or three leagues away. The group of the harem apartments, as usual, all opened inward, upon an area where grew orange, lemon, and fig-trees, full of fruit, also pomegranates and trailing vines, gracefully arranged. There were many varieties of flowers in bloom besides roses, which we strongly suspected came from afar. They were too familiar, those tea, damask, Jaqueminot, Marshal Niel, and moss roses. The indigenous ones were not nearly so full in leaf or pure in color, nor so fragrant or beautiful. The spacious marble bath was also in an open area, or court, shut in from all eyes save those of the denizens themselves, and of such depth and size as to admit of swimming. This tiny lake was bordered by thick growing myrtles, and a shrub with a dagger-like leaf, bearing a trumpet-shaped flower, snow white, but unknown to us, seemingly of the convolvulus genus. The dark winding labyrinths and passages from one part of the Ambar Palace to another were utterly confusing, and of a nature designed to mystify any one but an habitué. When the palace has its summer complement of residents, servants and all, it must contain some three hundred souls, besides the soldiery, who occupy the barracks outside to guard the entrances. It is a fort as well as a palace, and so arranged as to form a citadel capable of sustaining a siege, if necessary; while its lofty and commanding situation is such, that it could not be taken by an attacking force without great loss of life on their part. We were shown in the basement a singular shrine or temple, before which was a large, flat stone, where daily sacrifices of a sheep or goat is made by the priests. In the olden time human sacrifices took place on the stone, according to the guide. Fresh signs showed that the ceremony of blood spilling had lately taken place, and, on inquiry, we were told that the carcass was given as food to the poor, which was certainly one feature of the practice quite commendable.

When at last we mounted the elephants to again return to the city, it was past meridian, but so powerful was the heat of the sun that we could hardly have sustained it without the protection of umbrellas, and thought if this was winter weather in India what must midsummer be? Though so much further north, of the equator than Ceylon, the heat seemed nearly as great, and even more insupportable. There was a certain moisture and softness about the high temperature at Colombo, which we had experienced a month before; while here there was a dry, burning directness of the sun's power which was absolutely withering. As we passed over the road, swayed hither and thither upon the backs of the huge animals, it was amusing to watch the gambols of the wild monkeys in the trees, and to observe the flocks of wild peacocks in the open fields, both monkeys and peacocks being held sacred. There were tall cranes wading on the edges of the ponds, with other queer-legged, odd water-fowls strutting through the mud. The crocodiles were seen sunning themselves on the river's bank, watching for an Indian child or dog to devour. Fancy colored parrots were plenty; and when we got within the city gates, we met such dense flocks of tame pigeons, of various colors, as could not be equaled elsewhere. They were of several species, well-defined: fan-tailed, bloaters, divers, etc., some pure white, some mottled, and some as blue as the sky. Like those at Venice, they are protected by law. Indeed all animal life is spared, from religious convictions, except such as is brought to the altar. We finally got safely back to our quarters, at the Kaiser-i-Hind Hotel, far too well pleased with our trip to Ambar to cavil at a most indifferent dinner.

There are many native princes who govern states in India, as is the case at Jeypore; but they do so under sufferance, as it were, acknowledging their "subordinate dependence" to the British government. They form a body of feudatory rulers, possessing revenue and armies of their own. There is always a British "Resident" at their courts, who acts as an adviser, as it is termed, but who is, in plain English, a sort of acknowledged and permitted spy. These princes are not allowed to make war upon each other, or to form alliances with foreign states; and, upon the whole, all things considered, it is perhaps the best possible arrangement for the princes and for their subjects. England does not hesitate to interfere if a prince is guilty of any decided mismanagement, protecting the weak, and imposing peace. We were informed that the power of life and death, in single cases, rests with the Maharajah of Jeypore, as well as with the rest of the native rulers. Thus one third of India, embracing a population of between fifty and sixty millions of people, is still under native rule.

From Jeypore to Bombay is a distance of seven hundred miles, a journey which we were three days and nights in performing. Most of the route lay through a sparsely-populated country, very similar in character to the sections already described, – the greater part of India being an immense plain. It was curious on this route to observe that all the railroad station-houses were built with white domes like mosques, a fancy which was also carried into practice upon many of the better class of village houses; the effect, however, was far from pleasing to the eye. Now and then a few antelopes were seen; they would gaze fixedly at the train for a moment, then turn and spring away in immense bounds. Now a lynx and now a fox would put in an appearance in the early morning, in the lonely district through which we passed, generally at a wholesome distance from the cars. We were up and watchful; there is not much sleep to be obtained on the cars in India; besides, one does not wish to lose the crisp freshness of the dawn. Before the sun fairly rises the temperature was a little chilly, but directly its power was felt, and it got fairly started upon its diurnal path, there was a change of thirty or forty degrees, and then – it is impossible to describe how the golden sunlight flooded the plains. Small game of various species was frequently seen in the fields and hedges; kingfishers, kites, and hawks put in an appearance, and a tall bird standing four feet high was pointed out to us, called a sarus, gray in color, and of the stork family. The pretty Indian blue jay seemed omnipresent.

As we got further southward we came upon the great poppy fields, cultivated for opium, which formed a remarkable feature in the landscape. They were scarlet in color, mingled occasionally with pink. In other parts of the country we had seen the beautiful, though baleful, fields of poppies, dressed in bridal white. The effect of either is very fine when the eye measures the singular display by miles in extent, the rich, glutinous flowers nodding gracefully in the gentle breeze. We were told that from six to seven hundred thousand acres of land, mostly in the valley of the Ganges, were devoted to the poppy culture. A large share of these opium farms, as they may be called, belong to the English government, and are cultivated by their agents. Those which are conducted on private account are very heavily taxed, and are carried on in the interest of the Parsee merchants of Bombay, who control a large share of the opium trade, handling not only their own product, but also that of the government.

Oftentimes, near these gorgeous poppy fields were broad ripening acres of grain, which would have been denuded of their valuable property by the great flocks of birds floating hither and thither, were it not that precautions were taken to drive them away. A tall platform is raised upon poles in the centre of the field, with a slight straw shelter over it, upon which a young lad or girl is stationed, who thus overlooks the whole. They have no fire-arms, but are supplied with a simple sling and a few stones; should a bird be seen too close to the precious grain, an unerring stone will find him, and his body becomes a warning for his companions. The monkeys, who abound in southern India, are not so easily got rid of. Birds will not fly after dark, nor much before the sun rises in the morning; but the monkeys raid the fruit and vegetable fields by night, and are capable of organizing a descent upon some promising point with all the forethought of human thieves. Besides which, birds, as a rule, will take only such food as they can eat, but the Indian monkeys appropriate whatever they can lay their paws upon, having a special regard for light domestic articles, with which they have a fancy for decking the tops of the highest trees.

While Calcutta is the governmental or political capital of India, Bombay is its commercial metropolis; and an obvious sense of rivalry exists between the two places. The opening of communication with England by the Red Sea route has given the latter city a great business impetus, and it is growing rapidly, possessing more elements of future greatness than any other city in Asia. It forms the western gateway to India, is entirely modern, and three quarters European. The Parsees, Hindoos, and Mussulmans make up the other quarter of the fixed population, while the floating populace represents nearly every Asiatic people. These two principal cities are located on the opposite sides of the peninsula, Calcutta being on the Bay of Bengal and Bombay on the Sea of Arabia. The Parsees number over a hundred thousand, and represent a large portion of the wealth of the city, being also by far the most intelligent and enterprising natives of India. They sympathize entirely with the English government, which gives them freedom of opinion and protection for life and property, neither of which could be assured under native auspices. They keep entirely aloof, socially, from other races, and strictly preserve their well-defined individuality. Their dress is peculiar, partly Oriental, partly European, and they are still like their fathers, after thousands of years, the consistent followers of Zoroaster.

The Parsees settled here more than eight centuries ago, after their expulsion from Persia. Their temples contain no images, nothing but the altar bearing the sacred fire, which their fathers brought with them when they landed here so long ago, and which has never for one instant been extinguished. They worship the sun as the representative of God, and fire in all its forms, as well as the ocean, which would seem to be an antagonistic agent; but as their religion recognizes one Good and one Evil Principle, who are ever contending for the mastery of the universe, perhaps these emblems are no paradox. One of the first places we visited in Bombay was Malabar Hill, a lofty piece of ground just outside of the city, upon the apex of which are the five famous "Towers of Silence," constituting the cemetery of the Parsees. Beautiful gardens, kept ever in bloom and loveliness by the most assiduous care, surround these towers, which are the subjects of such sad associations. The oldest of these structures is between two and three centuries in age, and one is solely designed for the bodies of criminals whose bones are not permitted to mingle with those of the just. When a death occurs among the Parsees, the body is brought here to a small temple, containing the sacred fire, within the grounds. Here a certain formula is gone through with, and a solemn chant without words is performed by the assembled mourners. Presently the corpse is carried upon a stretcher through a door of one of the towers, and is placed upon a grating raised a few feet from the ground, where it is completely exposed. The bearers instantly retire, the door is closed and locked. These towers are open at the top, on the cornice of which hundreds of vultures are always waiting in full view of every one, and as soon as the body is left they swoop down to their awful meal, eagerly tearing and devouring the flesh, absolutely picking it clean from the bones, which fall into a space below in an indiscriminate mass, to be decomposed by time and the elements. The hideous detail of the scene is not visible to the spectators, but the reappearance of these terrible birds of prey upon the walls, an hour later, in a gorged condition, is only too significant of what has transpired within the silent and gloomy inclosure.

During a subsequent early-morning walk the writer observed a funeral procession on its way towards Malabar Hill, and followed it to the Towers. For a moment after arriving there the face of the corpse was exposed, showing the marble features of a young girl of some fifteen years, wearing upon her pale face an expression of seraphic loveliness. The body was covered with a snow-white sheet, exhibiting the outline of a beautiful, budding form suddenly snatched from life. Over and around the body were white buds and half-blown pale flowers, indicative of youth, recalling to mind a similar experience on the banks of the Ganges. There was no apparent want of sentiment and tenderness here. As soon as the brief ceremony was over the beautiful remains, lovely even in death, were deposited in the nearest tower, the door was closed and the bearers retired. Down swooped the ravenous birds to their terrible banquet, as we turned away with a shudder. The devouring flames that wreathed about the child-corpse at Benares did not seem to us so shocking as this.

Seeing an intelligent Parsee, who had evidently been watching us, we asked: "How can you reconcile to your feelings such disposal as that of the remains of a tenderly beloved child?" "What do you do with your dead?" he asked. "We bury them in the earth." "Yes," he continued, "for the worms to eat. And if there is death at sea you sink the body in the ocean to be consumed by the sharks. We prefer to give our dead to the birds of the air." We were certainly answered, though not convinced, as to the propriety of the awful scene just enacted. Perhaps, after all, it makes but little difference what becomes of these tenements of clay. The Parsee feeds the vultures with his dead, the devout Hindoo burns the body, and the professed Christian gives his to the worms and to the sharks. Still as we came down Malabar Hill that morning, and saw the hideous carrion birds, gorged and sleepy, roosting upon the walls of the cemetery, a sense of nausea came over us quite uncontrollable.

Bombay is made up of fine public buildings, sumptuous bungalows, and low hovels, not absolutely combined, each class being found in clusters about its special locality, but all going to make up the aggregate figure of the population. That the numbers should reach the round total of a million of people was a surprise. In the European cities we see the palace and the hovel, wealth and poverty, everywhere jostling each other. In Florence, Rome, or Naples a half-starved cobbler's stall may nestle beneath a palace, or a vendor of roast chestnuts may have established himself there. In Bombay a sense of propriety and fitness has assorted and adjusted these matters. Still poverty and riches are never far apart in the world, even as joy and grief are inevitable neighbors. There cannot be strong light without shade near at hand. Excellent order and neatness are maintained, and well-disciplined policemen are seen at every corner. The municipality is partly elective and partly nominative, the majority of the officials being of native birth, and so far as a casual visitor may judge, affairs are managed economically and judiciously. In the neighborhood of Elphinstone Circle and the Esplanade, the city will compare favorably with any modern European capital, both in the size and style of the public and private buildings, as well as in the broad, liberal squares and thoroughfares, ornamented with statuary and fountains.