The Last Voyage: To India and Australia, in the 'Sunbeam'

Thursday, January 27th.– Drove out early to the Ridge, the flagstaff battery, and the big durbar tent. Saw the troops march by, and at rifle practice. After breakfast went with Mr. Cannon to the Kutub Minar, the grandest column in the world; climbed to the top, whence there is a splendid view. Spent the rest of the day in seeing the sights of this wonderful city. Dined at dâk bungalow, and returned to train. Started at 10.48 for Ulwar.

Friday, January 28th.– Arrived at Ulwar at 7 a. m. Messenger from Maharajah to act as our guide. Most lovely palace, not generally shown. Exquisite lace-like marble tracery, especially in Zenana rooms. Both the Maharajah and the Maharanee are at present away. Schinnahal Tank at back, with cupolas, too beautiful for words. We also went to the summer palace and the gardens attached to it, in which, among other things, we saw some schoolboys playing cricket. Both at Ulwar and at Jeypore there are hospitals and medical schools for male and female students.

Saturday, January 29th.– Reached Jeypore at 6 a. m. The Maharajah's secretary and his assistant, both dressed in black, came to meet us at seven o'clock. Drove to Amber, the ancient city of the Rajpoots, now almost uninhabited, except by Fakirs. Lovely drive in the cool morning air. Elephants at foot of hill, and alligators in tank. At the temple a kid is sacrificed every morning, of which fact we saw traces. Visited the palace – an extensive and gorgeous building, with fine specimens of carved marble. Magnificent view from roof. Drove back to Jeypore to breakfast, and found men with specimens of arms, and curiosities of all kinds, awaiting us. Visited School of Art and Museum. Lunched at excellent Kaisar-i-Hind hotel. Then to the palace, which contains endless courts and halls-of-audience, including the celebrated Dewani Khas, of white marble. Ascended to seventh story, by special permission. Extensive view over city. Interview with Maharajah. Saw his stables, trained horses, and fighting animals, and the beautiful Ram Newas Gardens.

Sunday, January 30th.– Arrived at Agra. Went to church and heard a good sermon. Drove to the Taj, 'the glory of the world,' which was not in the least disappointing, high as were our expectations. Dined with Colonel Smith.

Monday, January 31st.– Drove out to Futtehpore Sikri, the favourite residence of the Emperor Akbar, about twenty-five miles from Agra, where there is a lovely tomb, finer than any we have yet seen. German photographer taking views of it. Lunched near the Jain Temple, which contains most curious carvings. Tom says it is remarkable how well some British regiments stand the climate of India. At Agra we saw the Manchester Regiment. After three years at Mooltan, perhaps the hottest station in India, the men were in rude health. They marched the whole distance to Agra. At the time of our visit the men were playing football and cricket, as vigorously as if they were in England. They subscribe for newspapers; they amuse themselves with frequent theatricals. They are fit to go anywhere and do anything.

The prison at Agra is admirably administered. Under the direction of Dr. Tyler, the men are being instructed in trades, by which, when released from confinement, they will be able to earn an honest living. The manufacture of carpets in the prison has been brought to perfection. A similar progress has been made in wood-carving in the prison at Lahore. Throughout India the prisons have been converted, with a wise humanity, into busy workshops.

Tuesday, February 1st.– Left Agra by special train at 3 a. m. and reached Gwalior at seven. Colonel Bannerman, with carriages, kindly met us. After breakfast drove out to the fort, to reach which we had to ride on very shaky elephants up a steep road. Barracks deserted now that the English soldiers are gone. Saw the Jain Temple, restored by Captain Keith. Returned to Gwalior, and lunched at the Residency. Proceeded by 1.45 train to Dholepore. Maharajah received us at station and entertained us with coffee. Reached Agra again at six o'clock.

Wednesday, February 2nd.– Arrived at Cawnpore at 2 a. m. Drove at 6.45 through the streets to the Memorial Gardens, where a monument is erected over the well into which so many victims of the Mutiny were cast. Visited the site of the Assembly Rooms, where women and children were hacked to death. Then to General Wheeler's entrenchment, St. John's Church, and the present Memorial Church, which contains many interesting tablets with touching inscriptions. Proceeded by train to Lucknow. Went with General Palmer to the Residency. Lovely gardens, full of purple bougainvillea, orange bignonia, and scarlet poinsettias. It was difficult to realise that this spot had once been the scene of so much horror and bloodshed. It was in the gardens of the Secundra Bagh that two thousand mutineers were killed within two hours by the 93rd Regiment and the 4th Punjaub Rifles, under Sir Colin Campbell. Lunched at the Imperial Hotel, and afterwards went to the soldiers' coffee-tavern.

Thursday, February 3rd.– Reached Cawnpore at midnight, and Allahabad at 7.20 a. m. Met by Mr. Adam with the Maharajah's carriages, in which we drove to the principal places of interest, including the fort, the arsenal, and the Sultan's serai and gardens. Returned to station and went on by train to Benares. Drove through the narrow and dirty streets to the Golden Temple. Not much to be seen in the shops except London brasswork and Hindoo gods. The Temple was chiefly remarkable for the dirt which abounded. The Cow Temple was dirtier still, with cows and bulls tied up all round it. Monkey Temple very curious. Drove out to the cantonments, several miles from the city. Dined at Clarke's Hotel, and returned to the train very tired.

Friday, February 4th.– Called at 6 a. m. Started at half-past seven for the Ranagar Palace, where we found chairs in readiness to carry us up the ascent. Received by the old Maharajah, his son, and grandson. Embarked in a boat propelled by a treadmill, and proceeded down the river, past all the ghauts and palaces belonging to various kings and princes or to their descendants. The bathing-ghaut was a wonderful sight. Women in brilliant colours; red palanquins and pilgrims. Carriages met us at the bridge.

During the succeeding days the journey included visits to the Marble Rocks, near Jubbulpore, and to the Caves of Ellora, viâ Aurungabad.

CHAPTER II.

HYDERABAD AND POONA

WE arrived at Hyderabad at half-past eleven on February 9th, and found Major Gilchrist (military secretary to the Resident, Mr. Cordery) waiting with the Nizam's carriages to take us to the Residency. It is an imposing building with a flight of twenty-two granite steps, a colossal sphinx standing on either hand, leading to the portico through which you reach the spacious reception and dining rooms, whilst the comfortably furnished sleeping-apartments lie beyond. An entire wing had been appropriated to the ladies of our party; and, luxurious as our railway-cars had been, the increased space and size of our new quarters appeared thoroughly delightful.

In the afternoon we went for a drive through the populous Hindoo suburb of Chadar Ghát to the celebrated 'Tombs of the Kings' at Golkonda, which, however, must not be confounded with the celebrated diamond mines of the same name, for they are nearly one hundred miles apart. The road to the Tombs passes over a stony belt or plain, on which gigantic masses of dark granite lie on all sides in picturesque confusion. The natives have a legend that they are the fragments left over at the completion of the Creation. About seven miles from the city, a solitary gloomy-looking hill rises, crowned by a fort, at the foot of which stand the Tombs. They are magnificent buildings with grand kubbabs or domes rising above the terraces, arcades, and minarets of the main edifice. One of the finest of the Tombs, dedicated to the memory of a Kootub Shahi king, has unfortunately been whitewashed within and without. The Tombs are mainly built of grey granite. They are nearly all covered with beautiful mosaics and enamelled tiles, mutilated, however, in too many instances by the hands of modern relic-hunters. The buildings are surrounded by gardens fragrant with champa and orange-blossom, and gay with many other flowers. One can see that formerly the gardens must have been much more lovely and luxuriant than they now are. The decay and ruin were caused by the great siege in the days of Aurangzib. Extensive repairs have been carried out by Sir Salar Jung. He has restored the gardens, and saved the Tombs from the destruction which had gradually been creeping over them.

We drove back, as we had come, in one of the Nizam's carriages – a drag drawn by four horses, cleverly managed by the chief coachman (an Englishman, named Ulett), who twisted his steeds about in the most marvellous way, especially in the garden before starting, where they might have been said to have 'turned on a sixpence.' I occupied the box-seat coming home, and enjoyed the delicious freshness of the evening air, among the picturesque rocks which rose up on either side. One of these, called 'One Gun Rock,' looks exactly like a cannon without its carriage, resting on an elevation and pointed towards the city. There is another rock with a similar name near Secunderabad; but the resemblance in that case is not so striking.

In the evening we dined with a native gentleman, who spoke English fairly well, and gave us a sumptuous repast in European fashion. Besides a multitude of chandeliers in his house, he had a billiard-table with glass legs, and splendid red satin chairs also with glass arms and legs. The view from the roof, to which we ascended after dinner, over the city, bathed in the light of the full moon, was really beautiful and quite romantic. On leaving, our host handed each of us a little flacon of most delicious attar of roses.

The following morning we were called at five o'clock, and by seven were driving towards Secunderabad, five or six miles distant. On leaving the Residency, which stands in the suburb of Chadar Ghát, about a mile to the north-west of the city; we drove through the city of Hyderabad, where the population is mainly Mahomedan, and afterwards through the outlying suburbs and villages, chiefly inhabited by Hindoos. Two miles north of Secunderabad is Trimulgherry, the headquarters of the Hyderabad Subsidiary Force, and a very important military station for European troops, the city of Secunderabad itself being garrisoned by native troops. One-tree Hill is not very far from here, called after the solitary palm-tree standing in the midst of a mass of rocks. Passing the city, we came to the barracks of the 7th Hussars, and then to Bolarum, where the Resident lives during the rainy season. His house is quite charming with its handsome ball-room, numerous lawn-tennis grounds, and well-kept gardens, in which we gathered violets and roses. The breeze was quite invigorating, the difference between the air here and at Hyderabad being very remarkable, considering that this is only 200 feet higher. The view from the top of the house, towards Byham's Monument and the quarters of the Hyderabad Contingent, was also interesting, the landscape resembling burnt-up, brown, breezy 'down' country, and reminding us all of Sussex.

We drove back to the Residency to breakfast and there sat quietly and read all the morning in our pleasant rooms. Late in the afternoon we drove to the tank of Mir Alam, where a brother of Sir Salar Jung was waiting for us in a steam-launch, in which we made little voyages up and down the so-called 'tank,' which was in fact an artificial lake twenty miles in circumference, and covering an area of 10,000 acres. Everybody went into raptures over the scenery, which was not unlike the tamer parts of Loch Duich or Loch Carron, in Scotland, with the addition of an occasional mosque or tomb perched on the rocky heights. It was extremely pleasant, steaming slowly about; and, as the sun went down, gorgeous effects were produced behind the rocks and hills. Prettier still when it became dark and the lights began to twinkle on the hillsides, and in the tents, pitched in readiness for a dinner party to be given by Sir Salar Jung this evening. The drive home through the densely crowded tortuous streets was most amusing; though one never ceased wondering how the drivers, even with the aid of the active syces, managed to avoid running over somebody, so thoroughly careless did the throng of people appear of their own safety.

The next day, February 11th, we were again awakened at a very early hour, and drove off to a spot in the Nizam's preserves, about six miles distant, where we were met by elephants, bullock and horse-tongas, and two cheetahs in carts, in readiness for the projected black-buck hunting expedition. Our guides strongly recommended us to select tongas instead of elephants as the mode of conveyance, saying that the black-buck have been so frequently hunted of late that they are alarmed at the sight of elephants. This advice proved good, for we soon afterwards found ourselves close to four fine animals. The cheetah which was to be first let loose, and which was carried on one of the tongas, became much excited, though he was blindfolded by a leathern mask and not allowed to see his prey until quite close to it. He stood up in the cart lashing his tail, and now and then curling it round the neck of the driver like a huge boa. When at last he was set free he darted forward and, after crouching behind a hillock waiting his opportunity, made a tremendous spring right on to the back of a buck, striking the poor animal such a blow on the side of the head that it must have been paralysed before the cruel teeth of the cheetah seized its throat. It was a splendid exhibition of brute strength and agility; but I carefully kept far enough away not to see any of the painful details which are inseparable from such sport, and which must, to me, always mar the pleasures of the chase.

Proceeding in another direction, we soon came across a large herd of black-buck; but the elephants had by this time caught us up, and the moment the deer perceived the huge creatures they bounded away. The elephants were therefore left behind with the horses, and we all seated ourselves on the tongas, creeping in this way quite near a herd of forty or fifty does, with six or eight fine bucks feeding with them. At one of these bucks the second and smaller cheetah was let go; but he could not make up his mind which buck to try for, whereby he lost both his opportunity and his temper, and went off sulkily into the jungle, from which his keeper had considerable difficulty in recapturing him.

We had in the meantime gone on with the first cheetah till we came to a herd of about eighty black-buck, and they allowed us to approach pretty close to them before starting off at a good round trot. The largest buck took alarm, and was out of sight in a moment; but by making a détour we managed to get near the others, and the cheetah was once more set free. After a moment's hesitation he fixed his attention upon the finest of the bucks in sight, and after a short gallop in pursuit made a tremendous spring upon his prey. This time, however, the cheetah missed his mark, and, falling short, rolled over ignominiously in the dust. Recovering himself in an instant, he made another and more successful spring, and despatched the poor buck with the usual quick, lightning-like stroke of the paw. The force with which the cheetah strikes his victim is marvellous. I have heard that a tiger can in the same way crush the head of a water-buffalo like an egg-shell; and the power of the cheetah's paw must be little less in proportion. It is, of course, well known that the tiger's retractile claws are like those of a cat, whereas the cheetah has toe-nails similar to those of a dog.

The drive back to the Residency seemed long and hot, and I was glad to rest awhile after our early excursion. Later in the forenoon we drove through the city, this time behind a team of Austrian greys, on our way to breakfast with Sir Salar Jung at the Barah Dari Palace. Sir Salar is Prime Minister to the present Nizam, and is the son of the eminent Indian statesman whose spare figure, clever face, well-cut clothes, and snowy turban were seen often during his visit to London twelve years ago. He received us very pleasantly, and showed us over his palace, built around a fine courtyard, with elaborately carved marble seats at intervals. The palace itself contains quantities of European chandeliers, musical boxes, portraits in oil of past Nizams, Maharajahs, and Governors-General. Sir Salar has also a fine collection of Indian arms, and we were shown the skin of an enormous tiger killed by himself only last week.

Breakfast was served in a most delightful verandah overlooking a courtyard with flashing fountains and green and shady trees, the table being prettily decorated, and the meal arranged in the most approved European fashion.

Afterwards we returned to the Residency, and the hottest hours of the day were spent in reading and writing. At four o'clock I again drove out with Mr. Furdonji Jamsetjee, the Minister's private secretary, passing through the picturesque and interesting native bazaars. The narrow whitewashed streets lined with little shops, gaily decorated with gold and bright colours, form a fitting background to the smartly dressed groups moving about among them. We did not pause to make any purchases, but stopped the carriage at many points to admire the motley crowd and the curious and beautiful mosques and temples.

We were fortunate enough to meet two processions, one literally a 'wedding march,' and the other a numerous company of Hindoo worshippers. First came a noisy, turbulent crowd of native soldiery, escorting a young man mounted on a very fat horse, dressed in gorgeous kincob, with eight people holding an enormous umbrella over him. This proved to be the bridegroom, and he was followed by many elephants and camels. As for the unfortunate bride, she was immured in a closely covered palanquin decorated with red velvet and gold. How she could live and breathe and have her being in such an airless box will always be a mystery to me, for we were gasping for breath in our open carriage. The second procession consisted of many more elephants and camels, with the addition of bands of brass and other noisy instruments. The central figure of this cavalcade seemed to be an old priest carrying on his head a bulky package wrapped in green cloth, which, I heard, was an offering to be made in an adjacent temple.

Hyderabad is unlike any other city I have yet seen in India, and, indeed, is said to resemble no other Eastern town. Nowhere, not even in the seaports, is there so mixed a population. As Mr. Edwin Arnold says, 'You see the Arab, short and square, with his silver-bound matchlock and daggers; the black-faced Sidi; the Robilla, with blue caftan and blunderbuss; the Pathan; the Afghan, dirty and long-haired; the Rajput, with his shield of oiled and polished hide; Persians, Bokhara men, Turks, Mahrattas, Madrasses, Parsees, and others.' The people are all allowed to carry arms – a privilege of which they fully avail themselves, evidently regarding daggers, knives, matchlocks, and a sword or two, as fit finery for festivities and merry-makings of every kind.

Notwithstanding their ferocious appearance, the people of Hyderabad are not more quarrelsome or turbulent than those of other cities, and recourse is very seldom had to these swords, daggers, or guns. The inlaying of arms and the sale of so-called ancient weapons to curiosity-collectors is, naturally, one of the specialities of Hyderabad. An immense quantity were brought to the Residency this morning for our inspection, and they made a glittering display in the marble portico. Among them were swords with watered blades, called johurdas, and worth several hundreds of pounds; besides innumerable scimitars of every shape, rapiers, blunderbusses, and exquisitely ornamented but treacherous-looking daggers and other stabbing instruments.

It has amused us much during our stay here to watch the elephants taking their baths. The Nizam owns three hundred of these big beasts, and all the nobles possess elephants in proportion to their rank and wealth. The huge creatures are driven down to the river night and morning, and it was most curious to see the unwieldy animals lay themselves flat down on their sides in the shallow water, so that nothing but a small island of body, so to speak, was visible, while an occasional lazy switch of tail or wave of trunk indicated the languid feeling of pleasure and contentment enjoyed by the bathers. Their keepers, helped by a small boy who clambered up their steep sides, assisted the cleansing process by scrubbing them vigorously with a sort of stable-broom. As soon as one side was thoroughly cleaned the boy jumped off, and at the word of command, with a tremendous upheaval, and amid a great displacement of water, the huge beast flopped down again on its cleansed side, uttering a prodigious grunt of satisfaction, and quite ready for the same process to be repeated. Such a splashing was never seen; especially when, as chanced to be the case whilst we were driving past, fifteen elephants were taking their baths at the same time. I felt quite afraid that one little baby elephant, who had timidly followed its mother, would be overwhelmed and drowned by the wallowing and flounderings of the older animals.

Saturday, February 12th.– Our early expeditions of the last two mornings have been so tiring, that I determined to remain quietly at home to-day until it was time to go to breakfast with the Nizam at eleven o'clock. At half-past ten his Highness's beautiful coaches came for us; and – Mr. Cordery and I leading the way – we drove through the Chowk, one of the broadest streets of the city, to the palace. This is reached through the stables; and the horses, evidently waiting inspection, were standing with their heads out of the doors of their boxes; their grooms, in yellow tunics, blue trousers, and red waist-bands much trimmed with silver, being stationed at the animals' heads. At one corner of the quadrangle in which the stables are built is a passage leading to a second and larger square, crowded by numbers of the Nizam's retainers. We passed through this to a third courtyard (said to cover as much ground as Lincoln's Inn Fields), and there alighted, at the bottom of a fine flight of marble steps, overlooking a charming garden with the usual tank in the centre. The effect was, however, rather spoilt to European eyes by a very ill-cast bronze figure, holding in its hand a large coloured air-ball, such as are sold in the streets of London for a penny each. The Nizam (now about twenty-one years of age) is so delighted with these balls that he has ordered two hundred of them, so that when one explodes it may be replaced immediately.

From the entrance-hall, marble corridors, from which hung handsome glass chandeliers, led into the centre room of a fine suite of apartments, where the Nizam shortly afterwards joined us. At breakfast I sat between his Highness and his chief aide-de-camp, neither of whom touched anything, except a glass of iced water and a cup of tea, during the whole of a very long meal. Subsequently the Nizam kindly caused all his best horses and ponies to be brought to the foot of the marble steps for us to see. There were Arabs of high degree, thoroughbred English horses, and very good-looking Walers among them, besides some tiny ponies, four of which, when harnessed together, drew a real Cinderella coach of solid silver. Although I delighted in looking at these beautiful animals, I became so tired that I had to make my escape. Some of the party stayed and went through the stables, harness-rooms, and coach-houses, which must, from their account, have been well worth seeing. They were especially struck by the perfect training of the horses, who seemed as docile as kittens, and would jump in and out of their stalls, take a straw out of their groom's mouth, and when told to 'go' would dash off wildly round the garden (to the great detriment of the flowers and plants), returning instantly to their stables at the word of command.

From the Nizam's palace I drove to see the wife of the Finance Minister, Mehdi Ali – an intelligent lady, who speaks English wonderfully well; in fact, she expressed herself so perfectly that it was difficult to believe she had scarcely spoken a word of our language for more than a year and a half. It seemed sad to hear that she never went out, because she did not care to go 'covered up,' and that such had been the seclusion of her existence, that she scarcely knew any animals by sight, except from pictures, and had no pets, except, as she said, 'pet books.' She showed me the books gained as prizes at college by her two nephews, with evident appreciation of their contents, one being Prescott's 'History of America,' and the other a translation of Homer's 'Iliad.' I parted with her after receiving the usual garland of honour on leaving, feeling grateful that Providence had not placed me behind a purdah, but had allowed me to go about and see the world for myself instead of having to look at it through other people's eyes.