DEPARTURE FROM SINGAPORE—THE ISLAND OF PINANG—CEYLON—POINTE DE GALLE—EXCURSION INTO THE INTERIOR—COLOMBO—CANDY—THE TEMPLE OF DAGOHA—ELEPHANT HUNT—RETURN TO COLOMBO AND POINTE DE GALLE.
I once more embarked in an English steamer, the “Braganza,” of 350 horse power, that left Singapore for Ceylon on the 7th of October. The distance between the two places is 1,900 miles.
The treatment I experienced on board this vessel was, it is true, a little different from that on board the other, although it was nearly as bad. There were four of us in the second cabin; {128} we dined alone, and had a mulatto servant to attend upon us. Unfortunately, he was afflicted with elephantiasis, and his appearance did not at all tend to whet the edge of our appetites.
During the 7th and 8th of October, we held our course through the Strait of Malacca, which separates Sumatra from the peninsula, and during all this time we never lost sight of land. Malacca is, near the coast, merely hilly; but further in the interior the hills swell into a fine mountain range. To our left lay a number of mountainous islands, which completely intercepted our view of Sumatra.
But if the scenery around us was not remarkable, the spectacle on board the vessel itself was highly interesting. The crew was composed of seventy-nine persons, comprising Chinese, Malays, Cingalese, Bengalese, Hindostanese, and Europeans. As a general rule, those of each country generally took their meals separately with their own countrymen. They all had immense plates of rice, and little bowls full of curry; a few pieces of dried fish supplied the place of bread. They poured the curry over the rice, and mixing the whole together with their hands, made it into small balls which they put into their mouths with a small piece of fish; about half their food used generally to fall back again into their plates.
The costume of these people was very simple. Many of them had nothing more than a pair of short trousers on, with a dirty old turban, and even the place of this was sometimes supplied by a coloured rag, or a cast-off sailor’s cap. The Malays wore long cloths wound round their bodies, with one end hanging over their shoulder. The Chinese preserved intact their usual costume and mode of life; and the coloured servants of the ship’s officers were the only ones who were occasionally well and even elegantly dressed. Their costume consisted of white trousers, wide upper garments, also white, with white sashes, silk jackets, and small embroidered white caps, or handsome turbans.
The manner in which all these poor coloured people were treated was certainly not in accordance with Christian principles. No one ever addressed them but in the roughest manner, and they were kicked and cuffed about on every occasion; even the dirtiest little European cabin-boy on board was allowed to act in the most cruel manner, and play off the most ignoble practical jokes upon them. Unhappy creatures! how is it possible that they should feel any love for Christians?
On the 9th of October we landed on the small island of Pinang. The town of the same name lies in the midst of a small plain, which forms the half of an isthmus. Not far from the town rises a picturesque mountain range.
I received five hours’ leave, which I devoted to riding about in all directions through the town in a palanquin, and even going a little distance into the country. All that I could see resembled what I had already seen at Singapore. The town itself is not handsome, but the contrary is the case with the country houses, which are all situated in beautiful gardens. The island is intersected by a great number of excellent roads.
From one of the neighbouring mountains there is said to be a very fine prospect of Pinang, a part of Malacca, and the sea, and, on the road to the mountain, a waterfall. Unfortunately, the few hours at my disposal did not allow me to see everything.
The greatest portion of the population of this island consists of Chinese, who perform all the manual labour, and engross all the retail trade.
On the 11th of October we saw the small island of Pulo-Rondo, which appertains to Sumatra. We now took the shortest line across the Bay of Bengal, and beheld land no more until we came in sight of Ceylon.
On the afternoon of the 17th of October, we neared Ceylon. I strained my anxious eyes to catch a glimpse of it as soon as possible, for it is always described as being a second Eden; some go so far as to affirm that our common father, Adam, settled there on his expulsion from Paradise, and, as a proof of this, adduce the fact of many places in the island, such as Adam’s Peak, Adam’s Bridge, etc., still bearing his name. I breathed the very air more eagerly, hoping, like other travellers, to inhale the fragrant odours wafted to me from the plantations of costly spices.
It was one of the most magnificent sights I ever beheld, to observe the island rising gradually from the sea, and to mark the numerous mountain ranges, which intersect Ceylon in every direction, becoming every instant more defined, their summits still magically lighted by the setting sun, while the thick cocoa-groves, the hills, and plains lay enveloped in dusky night. The fragrant odours, however, were wanting, and the vessel smelt, as usual, of nothing more than tar, coals, steam, and oil.
About 9 in the evening, we arrived before the harbour at Pointe de Galle, but, as the entrance is very dangerous, we quietly hove-to for the night. On the following morning two pilots came on board and took us safely through the narrow passage of deep water leading into the port.
Hardly were we landed before we were surrounded by a crowd of people with precious stones, pearls, tortoiseshell, and ivory articles for sale. It is possible that a connoisseur may sometimes make a very advantageous purchase; but I would advise those who have not much experience in these things, not to be dazzled by the size and splendour of the said precious stones and pearls, as the natives, according to all accounts, have learnt from Europeans the art of profiting as much as they can by a favourable opportunity.
Pointe de Galle is charmingly situated: in the fore-ground are some fine groups of rock, and in the back-ground, immediately adjoining the little town, which is protected by fortifications, rise magnificent forests of palms. The houses present a neat appearance; they are low, and shaded by trees, which, in the better streets, are planted so as to form alleys.
Pointe de Galle is the place of rendezvous for the steamers from China, Bombay, Calcutta, and Suez. Passengers from Calcutta, Bombay, and Suez, do not stop more than twelve, or, at most, twenty-four hours; but those proceeding from China to Calcutta have to wait ten or fourteen days for the steamer that carries them to their destination. This delay was to me very agreeable, as I profited by it to make an excursion to Candy.
There are two conveyances from Pointe de Galle to Colombo—the mail which leaves every day, and a coach which starts three times a week. The distance is seventy-three English miles, and the journey is performed in ten hours. A place in the mail costs £1 10s., and in the coach 13s. As I was pressed for time, I was obliged to go by the first. The roads are excellent; not a hill, not a stone is there to impede the rapid rate at which the horses, that are changed every eight miles, scamper along.
The greater portion of the road traversed thick forests of cocoa-trees, at a little distance from the sea-shore, and the whole way was more frequented and more thickly studded with houses than anything I ever saw even in Europe. Village followed village in quick succession, and so many separate houses were built between them, that there was not a minute that we did not pass one. I remarked also some small towns, but the only one worthy of notice was Calturi, where I was particularly struck by several handsome houses inhabited by Europeans.
Along the road-side, under little roofs of palm-leaves, were placed large earthen vessels filled with water, and near them cocoa-nut shells to drink out of. Another measure for the accommodation of travellers, which is no less worthy of praise, consists in the establishment of little stone buildings, roofed in, but open at the sides, and furnished with benches. In these buildings many wayfarers often pass the night.
The number of people and vehicles that we met made the journey appear to me very short. There were specimens of all the various races which compose the population of Ceylon. The Cingalese, properly so called, are the most numerous, but, besides these, there are Indians, Mahomedans, Malays, natives of Malabar, Jews, Moors, and even Hottentots. I saw numerous instances of handsome and agreeable physiognomies among those of the first three races; the Cingalese youths and boys, in particular, are remarkably handsome. They possess mild, well-formed features, and are so slim and finely built, that they might easily be mistaken for girls; an error into which it is the more easy to fall from their manner of dressing their hair. They wear no covering on their head, and comb back all their hair, which is then fastened behind by means of a comb, with a flat, broad plate, four inches high. This kind of head-dress looks anything but becoming in the men. The Mahomedans and Jews have more marked features; the latter resemble the Arabs, and, like them, have noble physiognomies. The Mahomedans and Jews, too, are easily recognised by their shaven heads, long beards, and small white caps or turbans. Many of the Indians, likewise, wear turbans; but the most have only a simple piece of cloth tied round their head, which is also the case with the natives of Malacca and Malabar. The Hottentots allow their coal-black hair to fall in rude disorder over their foreheads and half-way down their necks. With the exception of the Mahomedans and Jews, none of these different people bestow much care upon their dress. Save a small piece of cloth of about a hand’s-breadth, and fastened between their legs, they go about naked. Those who are at all dressed, wear short trousers and an upper garment.
I saw very few women, and these only near their huts, which they appear to leave less than any females with whom I am acquainted. Their dress, also, was exceedingly simple, consisting merely of an apron bound round their loins, a short jacket that exposed rather than covered the upper part of their body, and a sort of rag hanging over their head. Many were enveloped in large pieces of cloth worn loosely about them. The borders and lobes of their ears were pierced and ornamented with ear-rings, while on their feet and arms, and round their necks, they wore chains and bracelets of silver, or some other metal, and round one of their toes an extremely massive ring.
Any one would suppose that, in a country where the females are allowed to show themselves so little, they would be closely wrapped up; but this is not the case. Many had forgotten their jackets and head coverings, especially the old women, who seemed particularly oblivious in this respect, and presented a most repulsive appearance when thus exposed. Among the younger ones I remarked many a handsome and expressive face; only they, too, ought not to be seen without their jackets, as their breasts hang down almost to their knees.
The complexion of the population varies from a dark to a light or reddish brown or copper colour. The Hottentots are black, but without that glossy appearance which distinguishes the negro.
It is extraordinary what a dread all these half-naked people have of the wet. It happened to commence raining a little, when they sprang like so many rope-dancers over every little puddle, and hastened to their huts and houses for shelter. Those who were travelling and obliged to continue their journey, held, instead of umbrellas, the leaves of the great fan-palm (Corypha umbraculifera) over their heads. These leaves are about four feet broad, and can be easily held, like fans. One of them is large enough for two persons.
But if the natives dread the rain, they have no fear of the heat. It is said that they run no risk from the rays of the sun, being protected by the thickness of their skulls and the fat beneath.
I was much struck by the peculiarity of some of the waggons, which consisted of wooden two-wheeled cars, roofed with palm leaves stretching out about four feet, before and behind, beyond the body of the car. These projections serve to protect the driver from the rain and the rays of the sun, whichever way they may chance to fall. The oxen, of which there was always only a pair, were yoked at such a distance from the waggon, that the driver could walk very conveniently in the intervening space.
I profited by the half-hour allowed for breakfast to proceed to the sea-shore, whence I observed a number of men busily employed on the dangerous rock in the middle of the most violent breakers. Some of them loosened, by the aid of long poles, oysters, mussels, etc., from the rocks, while others dived down to the bottom to fetch them up. I concluded that there must be pearls contained inside, for I could not suppose that human beings would encounter such risks for the sake of the fish alone; and yet this was the case, for I found, later, that though the same means are employed in fishing for pearls, it is on the eastern coast and only during the months of February and March.
The boats employed by these individuals were of two kinds. The larger ones, which contained about forty persons, were very broad, and composed of boards joined together and fastened with the fibres of the cocoa-tree; the smaller ones were exactly like those I saw in Tahiti, save that they appeared still more dangerous. The bottom was formed of the trunk of an extremely narrow tree, slightly hollowed out, and the sides of the planks are kept in their places by side and cross supports. These craft rose hardly a foot and a half out of the water, and their greatest breadth did not average quite a foot. There was a small piece of plank laid across as a seat, but the rower was obliged to cross his knees from want of room to sit with them apart.
The road, as I before mentioned, lay for the most part through forests of cocoa-trees, where the soil was very sandy and completely free from creepers and underwood; but near trees that did not bear fruit, the soil was rich, and both that and the trees covered with creepers in wild luxuriance. There were very few orchids.
We crossed four rivers, the Tindurch, Bentock, Cattura, and Pandura, two by means of boats, two by handsome wooden bridges.
The cinnamon plantations commenced about ten miles from Colombo; and on this side of the town are all the country-houses of the Europeans. They are very simple, shaded with cocoa-trees and surrounded with stone walls. At 3 o’clock in the afternoon, we drove over two draw-bridges and through two fortified gateways into the town, which is far more pleasantly situated than Pointe de Galle, on account of its nearer proximity to the beautiful mountain ranges.
I only stopped a night here, and on the following morning again resumed my journey in the mail to the town of Candy, which is distant seventy-two miles.
We left on the 20th of October, at 5 o’clock in the morning. Colombo is a very extensive town. We drove through a succession of long, broad streets of handsome houses, all of which latter were surrounded by verandahs and colonnades. I was very much startled at the number of persons lying stretched out at full length under these verandahs, and covered with white clothes. I at first mistook them for corpses, but I soon perceived that their number was too great to warrant that supposition, and I then discovered that they were only asleep. Many, too, began to move and throw off their winding-sheets. I was informed that the natives prefer sleeping in this manner before the houses to sleeping inside of them.
The Calanyganga, an important river, is traversed by a long floating bridge; the road then branches off more and more from the sea-coast, and the character of the scenery changes. The traveller now meets with large plains covered with fine plantations of rice, the green and juicy appearance of which reminded me of our own young wheat when it first shoots up in spring. The forests were composed of mere leaved wood, the palms becoming at every step more rare; one or two might sometimes be seen, here and there, towering aloft like giants, and shading everything around. I can imagine nothing more lovely than the sight of the delicate creepers attached to the tall stems of these palms and twining up to their very crests.
After we had gone about sixteen miles, the country began to assume a more hilly aspect, and we were soon surrounded by mountains on every side. At the foot of each ascent we found extra horses in waiting for us; these were yoked to the ordinary team, and whirled us rapidly over all obstacles. Although there is a rise of about 2,000 feet on the road to Candy, we performed the distance, seventy-two miles, in eleven hours.
The nearer we approached our destination, the more varied and changing became the scenery. At one time we might be closely hemmed in by the mountains, and then the next moment they would stretch away, one above the other, while their summits seemed to contend which should outrival the rest in altitude and beauty of outline. They were covered, to the height of several thousand feet, with luxuriant vegetation, which, for the most part, then generally ceased, and gave way to the bare rock. I was not less interested, however, with the curious teams we sometimes met, than I was with the scenery. It is well known that Ceylon abounds in elephants, many of which are captured and employed for various purposes. Those that I now saw were yoked in twos or threes to large waggons, full of stones for mending the roads.
Four miles before reaching Candy, we came to the river Mahavilaganga, which is spanned by a masterly bridge of one arch. The materials of the bridge are most costly, consisting of satin-wood. In connection with this structure, I learned the following legend.
After the conquest of the island by the English, the natives did not give up the hope of once more attaining their independence, because one of their oracles had declared that it was as impossible for the enemy to obtain a lasting dominion over them, as it was for the opposite banks of the Mahavilaganga to be united by a road. When the bridge was begun, they smiled, and said that it could never be successfully completed. At present, I was told, they think of independence no more.
Near the bridge is a botanical garden which I visited the following day, and was astonished at its excellent arrangement, and the richness of its collection of flowers, plants, and trees.
Opposite the garden is one of the largest sugar-plantations, and, in the neighbourhood, a number of coffee-plantations.
In my opinion, the situation of Candy is most beautiful, but many affirm that it is too near the mountains, and lies in a pit. At any rate, this pit is a very lovely one, abounding in the most luxuriant vegetation. The town itself is small and ugly, consisting of nothing but a mass of small shops, with natives passing to and fro. The few houses that belong to Europeans, the places of business, and the barracks, are all outside the town, upon small hills. Large sheets of artificial water, surrounded by splendid stone balustrades, and shaded by alleys of the mighty tulip-tree, occupy a portion of the valley. On the side of one of these basins, stands the famous Buddhist temple of Dagoha, which is built in the Moorish-Hindostanee style, and richly ornamented.
On my leaving the coach, one of the passengers was kind enough to recommend me a good hotel, and to call a native and direct him where to conduct me. When I reached the hotel, the people there said that they were very sorry, but that all their rooms were occupied. I asked them to direct my guide to another establishment, which they did. The rascal led me away from the town, and, pointing to a hill which was near us, gave me to understand that the hotel was situated behind it. I believed him, as all the houses are built far apart; but on ascending the hill, I found nothing but a lonely spot and a wood. I wished to turn back, but the fellow paid no attention to my desire, and continued walking towards the wood. I then snatched my portmanteau from him, and refused to proceed any further. He endeavoured to wrest it from me, when, luckily, I saw in the distance two English soldiers, who hastened up in answer to my cries, and, on seeing this, the fellow ran off. I related my adventure to the soldiers, who congratulated me on the recovery of my luggage, and conducted me to the barracks, where one of the officers was kind enough to give orders that I should be conducted to another hotel.
My first visit was to the temple of Dagoha, which contains a valuable relic of the god Buddha, namely, one of his teeth, and, together with the out-buildings, is surrounded by a wall. The circumference of the principal temple is not very considerable, and the sanctuary, which contains the tooth, is a small chamber hardly twenty feet broad. Within this place all is darkness, as there are no windows, and inside the door, there is a curtain, to prevent the entry of any light. The walls and ceiling are covered with silk tapestry, which, however, has nothing but its antiquity to recommend it. It is true that it was interwoven with gold thread, but it appeared never to have been especially costly, and I cannot believe that it ever produced that dazzling effect which some travellers have described. Half of the chamber was engrossed by a large table, or kind of altar, inlaid with plates of silver, and ornamented round the edges with precious stones. On it stands a bell-shaped case, measuring at the bottom at least three feet in diameter, and the same in height. It is made of silver thickly gilt, and decorated with a number of costly jewels; there is a peacock in the middle entirely formed of precious stones; but all these treasures fail to produce any very great effect, from the clumsy and inartistic fashion in which they are set.
Under the large case there are six smaller ones, said to be of pure gold; under the last is the tooth of the all-powerful divinity. The outer case is secured by means of three locks, two of the keys belonging to which used to be kept by the English governor, while the third remained in the custody of the chief priest of the temple. A short time previous to my visit, however, the government had restored the two keys to the natives with great solemnities, and they are now confided to one of the native Radschas, or princes.
The relic itself is only shown to a prince or some other great personage; all other people must be content to believe the priest, who, for a small gratuity, has the politeness to describe the size and beauty of the tooth. The dazzling whiteness of its hue is said to eclipse that of ivory, while its form is described as being more beautiful than anything of the kind ever beheld, and its size to equal that of the tooth of an immense bullock.
An immense number of pilgrims come here every year to pay their adoration to this divine tooth.
“Where ignorance is bliss, ’t is folly to be wise.” How many people are there among us Christians who believe things which require quite as great an amount of faith? For instance, I remember witnessing, when I was a girl, a festival at Calvaria, in Gallicia, which is still celebrated every year. A great multitude of pilgrims go there to obtain splinters of the true cross. The priests manufacture little crosses of wax, on which, as they assure the faithful, they stick splinters of the real one. These little crosses, wrapped up in paper and packed in baskets, are placed ready for distribution, that is, for sale. Every peasant generally takes three: one to put in his room, one in his stable, and another in his barn. The most wonderful portion of the business is that these crosses must be renewed every year, as in that period they lose their divine power.
But let me return to Candy. In a second temple, adjoining that in which the relic is preserved, are two gigantic hollow statues of the god Buddha in a sitting posture, and both are said to be formed of the finest gold. Before these colossi stand whole rows of smaller Buddhas, of crystal, glass, silver, copper, and other materials. In the entrance hall, likewise, are several stone statues of different gods, with other ornaments, most of them roughly and stiffly executed. In the middle stands a small plain monument of stone, resembling a bell turned upside down; it is said to cover the grave of a Brahmin.
On the outer walls of the principal temple are wretched daubs in fresco, representing the state of eternal punishment. Some of the figures are being roasted, twitched with red-hot pincers, partly baked, or forced to swallow fire. Others again, are jammed between rocks, or having pieces of flesh cut out of their bodies, etc., but fire appears to play the principal part in these punishments.
The doors of the principal temple are made of metal, and the door posts of ivory. On the first are the most beautiful arabesques in basso-relief, and on the second, in inlaid work, representing flowers and other objects. Before the principal entrance, four of the largest elephant’s teeth ever found are stuck up by way of ornament.
Ranged round the court-yard are the tents of the priests, who always go about with bare, shaven heads, and whose costume consists of a light yellow upper garment, which nearly covers the whole body. It is said that there were once 500 officiating priests in this temple; at present the divinity is obliged to content himself with a few dozen.
The chief part of the religious ceremonies of the Buddhists consists in presents of flowers and money. Every morning and evening a most horrible instrument, fit to break the drum of one’s ear, and called a tam-tam, together with some shrill trumpets and fifes, is played before the door of the temple. To this soon succeeds a crowd of people from all sides, bringing baskets full of the most beautiful flowers, with which the priests adorn the altars, and that in a manner so elegant and tasty, that it cannot be surpassed.
Besides this temple, there are several others in Candy, but only one worth noticing. This is situated at the foot of a rocky hill, out of which has been hewn a statue of Buddha, thirty-six feet high, and over this is built the temple, which is small and elegant. The god is painted with the most glaring colours. The walls of the temple are covered with handsome red cement, and portioned out into small panels, in all of which the god Buddha appears al fresco. There are also a few portraits of Vischnu, another god. The colours on the southern wall of the temple are remarkable for their fine state of preservation.
Here, likewise, there is a funeral monument, like that of the Temple of Dagoha, not however, in the building itself, but under the lofty firmament of heaven, and shaded by noble trees.
Attached to the temples are frequently schools, in which the priests fulfil the duties of teachers. Near this particular temple, we saw about a dozen boys—girls are not allowed to attend school—busy writing. The copies for them were written very beautifully, by means of a stylus, on small palm-leaves, and the boys used the same material.
It is well worth any person’s while to walk to the great valley through which the Mahavilaganga flows. It is intersected with a countless number of wave-like hills, many of which form regular terraces, and are planted with rice or coffee. Nature is here young and vigorous, and amply rewards the planter’s toil. The darker portions of the picture are composed of palms or other trees, and the back-ground consists partly of towering mountains, in a holiday suit of green velvet, partly of stupendous and romantic rocks in all their gloomy nakedness.
I saw many of the principal mountains in Ceylon—giants, 8,000 feet high; but, unfortunately, not the most celebrated one, Adam’s Peak, which has an altitude of 6,500 feet, and which, towards the summit is so steep, that it was necessary, in order to enable any one to climb up, to cut small steps in the rock, and let in an iron chain.
But the bold adventurer is amply repaid for his trouble. On the flat summit of the rock is the imprint of a small foot, five feet long. The Mahomedans suppose it to be that of our vigorous progenitor, Adam, and the Buddhists that of their large-toothed divinity, Buddha. Thousands of both sects flock to the place every year, to perform their devotions.
There still exists at Candy the palace of the former king, or emperor of Ceylon. It is a handsome stone building, but with no peculiar feature of its own; I should have supposed that it had been built by Europeans. It consists of a ground floor, somewhat raised, with large windows, and handsome porticoes resting upon columns. The only remarkable thing about it is a large hall in the interior, with its walls decorated with some rough and stiffly executed representations of animals in relief. Since the English deposed the native sovereign, the palace has been inhabited by the English resident, or governor.
Had I only arrived a fortnight sooner, I should have witnessed the mode of hunting, or rather snaring, elephants. The scene of operations is a spot on the banks of some stream or other, where these animals go to drink. A large place is enclosed with posts, leading up to which, and also skirted by stout posts, are a series of narrow passages. A tame elephant, properly trained, is then made fast in the middle of the large space, to entice by his cries the thirsty animals, who enter unsuspiciously the labyrinth from which they cannot escape, as the hunters and drivers follow, alarm them by their shouts, and drive them into the middle of the enclosure. The finest are taken alive, by being deprived of food for a short time. This renders them so obedient, that they quietly allow a noose to be thrown over them, and then follow the tame elephant without the least resistance. The others are then either killed or set at liberty, according as they possess fine tusks or not.
The preparations for capturing these animals sometimes last several weeks, as, besides enclosing the spot selected, a great many persons are employed to hunt up the elephants far and wide, and drive them gradually to the watering place.
Persons sometimes go elephant-hunting, armed merely with firearms; but this is attended with danger. The elephant, as is well known, is easily vulnerable in one spot only,—the middle of the skull. If the hunter happens to hit the mark, the monster lies stretched before him at the first shot; but if he misses, then woe to him, for he is speedily trampled to death by the enraged beast. In all other cases the elephant is very peaceable, and is not easily induced to attack human beings.
The Europeans employ elephants to draw and carry burdens—an elephant will carry forty hundred-weight; but the natives keep them more for show and riding.
I left Candy after a stay of three days, and returned to Colombo, where I was obliged to stop another day, as it was Sunday, and there was no mail.
I profited by this period to visit the town, which is protected by a strong fort. It is very extensive; the streets are handsome, broad, and clean; the houses only one story high, and surrounded by verandahs and colonnades. The population is reckoned at about 80,000 souls, of whom about 100 are Europeans, exclusive of the troops, and 200 descendants of Portuguese colonists, who founded a settlement here some centuries ago. The complexion of the latter is quite as dark as that of the natives themselves.
In the morning I attended mass. The church was full of Irish soldiers and Portuguese. The dress of the Portuguese was extremely rich; they wore ample robes with large folds, and short silk jackets; in their ears hung ear-rings of pearls and diamonds, and round their necks, arms, and even ankles, were gold and silver chains.
In the afternoon I took a walk to one of the numerous cinnamon plantations round Colombo. The cinnamon tree or bush is planted in rows; it attains at most a height of nine feet, and bears a white, scentless blossom. From the fruit, which is smaller than an acorn, oil is obtained by crushing and boiling it; the oil then disengages itself and floats on the top of the water. It is mixed with cocoa-oil and used for burning.
There are two cinnamon harvests in the course of the year. The first and principal one takes place from April to July, and the second from November to January. The rind is peeled from the branches by means of knives, and then dried in the sun; this gives it a yellowish or brownish tint. The best cinnamon is a light yellow, and not thicker than pasteboard.
The essential oil of cinnamon, used in medicine, is extracted from the plant itself, which is placed in a vessel full of water, and left to steep for eight to ten days. The whole mass is then transferred to a retort and distilled over a slow fire. In a short time, on the surface of the water thus distilled a quantity of oil collects, and this is then skimmed off with the greatest care.
In the animal kingdom, besides the elephants, I was much struck by the number and tameness of the ravens of Ceylon. In every small town and village may be seen multitudes of these birds, that come up to the very doors and windows and pick up everything. They play the part of scavengers here, just as dogs do in Turkey. The horned cattle are rather small, with humps between the shoulder-blades; these humps consist of flesh and are considered a great dainty.
In Colombo and Pointe de Galle there are likewise a great many large white buffaloes, belonging to the English government, and imported from Bengal. They are employed in drawing heavy loads.
Under the head of fruit, I may mention the pine-apple as being particularly large and good.
I found the temperature supportable, especially in the high country round about Candy, where, after some heavy rain, it might almost be called cold. In the evening and morning the thermometer stood as low as 61° 25’ Fah.; and in the middle of the day and in the sun, it did not rise above 79° 25’. In Colombo and Pointe de Galle, the weather was fine, and the heat reached 95° Fah.
On the 26th of October I again reached Pointe de Galle, and on the following day I embarked in another English steamer for India.
DEPARTURE FROM CEYLON—MADRAS—CALCUTTA—MODE OF LIFE OF THE EUROPEANS—THE HINDOOS—PRINCIPAL OBJECTS OF INTEREST IN THE TOWN—VISIT TO A BABOO—RELIGIOUS FESTIVALS OF THE HINDOOS—HOUSES OF DEATH AND PLACES FOR BURNING THE DEAD—MAHOMEDAN AND EUROPEAN MARRIAGE CEREMONIES.
On the afternoon of the 27th of October I went on board the steamship “Bentinck,” of 500 horse-power; but we did not weigh anchor much before evening.
Among the passengers was an Indian prince of the name of Schadathan, who had been made prisoner by the English for breaking a peace he had concluded with them. He was treated with all the respect due to his rank, and he was allowed his two companions, his mundschi, or secretary, and six of his servants. They were all dressed in the Oriental fashion, only, instead of turbans, they wore high, round caps, composed of pasteboard covered with gold or silver stuff. They wore also luxuriant long black hair, and beards.
The companions of the prince took their meals with the servants. A carpet was spread out upon the deck, and two large dishes, one containing boiled fowls, and the other pillau, placed upon it; the company used their hands for knives and forks.
28th October. We still were in sight of the fine dark mountain ranges of Ceylon. Now and then, too, some huge detached groups of rocks would be visible towering above the waves.
29th October. Saw no land. A few whales betrayed their presence by the showers of spray they spouted up, and immense swarms of flying fish were startled by the noise of our engines.
On the morning of the 30th of October we came in sight of the Indian continent. We soon approached near enough to the shore to distinguish that it was particularly remarkable for its beauty, being flat and partly covered with yellow sand; in the back-ground were chains of low hills.
At 1 o’clock, P.M., we anchored at a considerable distance (six miles) from Madras. The anchoring place here is the most dangerous in the world, the ground-swell being so strong that at no time can large vessels approach near the town, and many weeks often pass without even a boat being able to do so. Ships, consequently, only stop a very short time, and there are rarely more than a dozen to be seen riding at anchor. Large boats, rowed by ten or twelve men, come alongside them to take the passengers, letters, and merchandise ashore.
The steamer stops here eight hours, which may be spent in viewing the town, though any one so doing runs a chance of being left behind, as the wind is constantly changing. I trusted to the good luck which had always attended me during my travels, and made one of the party that disembarked; but we had not got more than half way to land when I was punished for my curiosity. It began to rain most fearfully, and we were very soon wet to the skin. We took refuge in the first coffee-house we saw, situated at the water’s edge; the rain had now assumed a tropical character, and we were unable to leave our asylum. As soon as the storm had passed by, a cry was raised for us to return as quickly as possible, as there was no knowing what might follow.
A speculative baker of Madras had come out in the first boat that reached the steamer with ice and biscuits for sale, which he disposed of very much to his profit.
The angry heavens at length took compassion on us and cleared up before sunset. We were then enabled to see the palace-like dwellings of the Europeans, built half in the Grecian and half in the Italian style of architecture, stretching along the shore and beautifully lighted by the sun. Besides these, there were others standing outside the town in the midst of magnificent gardens.
Before we left, a number of natives ventured to us in small boats with fruit, fish, and other trifles. Their boats were constructed of the trunks of four small trees, tightly bound together with thin ropes made of the fibres of the cocoa-tree; a long piece of wood served as an oar. The waves broke so completely over them that I imagined every instant that both boats and men were irretrievably lost.
The good people were almost in a state of nature, and seemed to bestow all their care on their heads, which were covered with pieces of cloth, turbans, cloth or straw caps, or very high and peaked straw hats. The more respectable—among whom may be reckoned the boatmen who brought the passengers and mails—were, however, in many cases, very tastily dressed. They had on neat jackets, and large long pieces of cloth wrapped round their bodies; both the cloths and jackets were white, with a border of blue stripes. On their heads they wore tightly fitting white caps, with a long flap hanging down as far as their shoulders. These caps, too, had a blue border. The complexion of the natives was a dark brown or coffee colour.
Late in the evening, a native woman came on board with her two children. She had paid second-class fare, and was shown a small dark berth not far from the first cabin places. Her younger child had, unfortunately, a bad cough, which prevented some rich English lady, who had likewise a child with her, from sleeping. Perhaps the exaggerated tenderness which this lady manifested for her little son caused her to believe that the cough might be catching; but, be that as it may, the first thing she did on the following morning, was to beg that the captain would transfer mother and children to the deck, which the noble-hearted humane captain immediately did, neither the lady nor himself caring in the least whether the poor mother had or had not, even a warm coverlid to protect her sick child from the night cold and the frequent heavy showers.
Would that this rich English lady’s child had only been ill, and exposed with her to the foggy night air, that she might herself have experienced what it is to be thus harshly treated! A person of any heart must almost feel ashamed at belonging to a class of beings who allow themselves to be far surpassed in humanity and kindness by those who are termed savages; no savages would have thus thrust forth a poor woman with a sick child, but would, on the contrary, have taken care of both. It is only Europeans, who have been brought up with Christian principles, who assume the right of treating coloured people according as their whim or fancy may dictate.
On the 1st and 2nd of November we caught occasional glimpses of the mainland, as well as of several little islands; but all was flat and sandy, without the least pretensions to natural beauty. Ten or twelve ships, some of them East Indiamen of the largest size, were pursuing the same route as ourselves.
On the morning of the 3rd of November, the sea had already lost its own beautiful colour, and taken that of the dirty yellow Ganges. Towards evening we had approached pretty close to the mouths of this monster river, for some miles previous to our entering which, the water had a sweet flavour. I filled a glass from the holy stream, and drank it to the health of all those near and dear to me at home.
At 5 o’clock in the afternoon, we cast anchor before Kadscheri, at the entrance of the Ganges, it being too late to proceed to Calcutta, which is sixty nautical miles distant. The stream at this point was several miles broad, so that the dark line of only one of its banks was to be seen.
4th November. In the morning we entered the Hoogly, one of the seven mouths of the Ganges. A succession of apparently boundless plains lay stretched along on both sides of the river. Fields of rice were alternated with sugar plantations, while palm, bamboo, and other trees, sprung up between, and the vegetation extended, in wanton luxuriance, down to the very water’s edge; the only objects wanting to complete the picture were villages and human beings, but it was not until we were within about five-and-twenty miles of Calcutta that we saw now and then a wretched village or a few half-naked men. The huts were formed of clay, bamboos, or palm branches, and covered with tiles, rice-straw, or palm leaves. The larger boats of the natives struck me as very remarkable, and differed entirely from those I saw at Madras. The front portion was almost flat, being elevated hardly half a foot above the water while the stern was about seven feet high.
The first grand-looking building, a cotton mill, is situated fifteen miles below Calcutta, and a cheerful dwelling-house is attached. From this point up to Calcutta, both banks of the Hoogly are lined with palaces built in the Greco-Italian style, and richly provided with pillars and terraces. We flew too quickly by, unfortunately, to obtain more than a mere passing glimpse of them.
Numbers of large vessels either passed us or were sailing in the same direction, and steamer after steamer flitted by, tugging vessels after them; the scene became more busy and more strange, every moment, and everything gave signs that we were approaching an Asiatic city of the first magnitude.
We anchored at Gardenrich, four miles below Calcutta. Nothing gave me more trouble during my travels than finding lodgings, as it was sometimes impossible by mere signs and gestures to make the natives understand where I wanted to go. In the present instance, one of the engineers interested himself so far in my behalf as to land with me, and to hire a palanquin, and direct the natives where to take me.
I was overpowered by feelings of the most disagreeable kind the first time I used a palanquin. I could not help feeling how degrading it was to human beings to employ them as beasts of burden.
The palanquins are five feet long and three feet high, with sliding doors and jalousies: in the inside they are provided with mattresses and cushions, so that a person can lie down in them as in a bed. Four porters are enough to carry one of them about the town, but eight are required for a longer excursion. They relieve each other at short intervals, and run so quickly that they go four miles in an hour or even in three-quarters of an hour. These palanquins being painted black, looked like so many stretchers carrying corpses to the churchyard or patients to the hospital.
On the road to the town, I was particularly struck with the magnificent gauths (piazzas), situated on the banks of the Hoogly, and from which broad flights of steps lead down to the river. Before these gauths are numerous pleasure and other boats.
The most magnificent palaces lay around in the midst of splendid gardens, into one of which the palanquin-bearers turned, and set me down under a handsome portico before the house of Herr Heilgers, to whom I had brought letters of recommendation. The young and amiable mistress of the house greeted me as a countrywoman (she was from the north and I from the south of Germany), and received me most cordially. I was lodged with Indian luxury, having a drawing-room, a bed-room, and a bath-room especially assigned to me.
I happened to arrive in Calcutta at the most unfavourable period possible. Three years of unfruitfulness through almost the whole of Europe had been followed by a commercial crisis, which threatened the town with entire destruction. Every mail from Europe brought intelligence of some failure, in which the richest firms here were involved. No merchant could say, “I am worth so much;”—the next post might inform him that he was a beggar. A feeling of dread and anxiety had seized every family. The sums already lost in England and this place were reckoned at thirty millions of pounds sterling, and yet the crisis was far from being at an end.
Misfortunes of this kind fall particularly hard upon persons who, like the Europeans here, have been accustomed to every kind of comfort and luxury. No one can have any idea of the mode of life in India. Each family has an entire palace, the rent of which amounts to two hundred rupees (£20), or more, a month. The household is composed of from twenty-five to thirty servants; namely—two cooks, a scullion, two water-carriers, four servants to wait at table, four housemaids, a lamp-cleaner, and half-a-dozen seis or grooms. Besides this, there are at least six horses, to every one of which there is a separate groom; two coachmen, two gardeners, a nurse and servant for each child, a lady’s maid, a girl to wait on the nurses, two tailors, two men to work the punkahs, and one porter. The wages vary from four to eleven rupees (8s. to £1 2s.) a month. None of the domestics are boarded, and but few of them sleep in the house: they are mostly married, and eat and sleep at home. The only portion of their dress which they have given to them is their turban and belt; they are obliged to find the rest themselves, and also to pay for their own washing. The linen belonging to the family is never, in spite of the number of servants, washed at home, but is all put out, at the cost of three rupees (6s.) for a hundred articles. The amount of linen used is something extraordinary; everything is white, and the whole is generally changed twice a day.
Provisions are not dear, though the contrary is true of horses, carriages, furniture, and wearing apparel. The last three are imported from Europe; the horses come either from Europe, New Holland, or Java.
In some European families I visited there were from sixty to seventy servants, and from fifteen to twenty horses.
In my opinion, the Europeans themselves are to blame for the large sums they have to pay for servants. They saw the native princes and rajahs surrounded by a multitude of idle people, and, as Europeans, they did not wish to appear in anyway inferior. Gradually the custom became a necessity, and it would be difficult to find a case where a more sensible course is pursued.
It is true that I was informed that matters could never be altered as long as the Hindoos were divided into castes. The Hindoo who cleans the room would on no account wait at table, while the nurse thinks herself far too good ever to soil her hands by cleaning the child’s washing-basin. There may certainly be some truth in this, but still every family cannot keep twenty, thirty, or even more servants. In China and Singapore, I was struck with the number of servants, but they are not half, nay, not a third so numerous, as they are here.
The Hindoos, as is well known, are divided into four castes—the Brahmins, Khetries, Bices and Sooders. They all sprung from the body of the god Brahma: the first from his mouth, the second from his shoulders, the third from his belly and thighs, and the fourth from his feet. From the first class are chosen the highest officers of state, the priests, and the teachers of the people. Members of this class alone are allowed to peruse the holy books; they enjoy the greatest consideration; and if they happen to commit a crime, are far less severely punished than persons belonging to any of the other castes. The second class furnishes the inferior officials and soldiers; the third the merchants, workmen, and peasants; while the fourth and last provides servants for the other three. Hindoos of all castes, however, enter service when compelled by poverty to do so, but there is still a distinction in the kind of work, as the higher castes are allowed to perform only that of the cleanest kind.
It is impossible for a person of one caste to be received into another, or to intermarry with any one belonging to it. If a Hindoo leaves his native land or takes food from a Paria, he is turned out of his caste, and can only obtain re-admission on the payment of a very large sum.
Besides these castes, there is a fifth class—the Parias. The lot of these poor creatures is the most wretched that can be imagined. They are so despised by the other four castes, that no one will hold the slightest intercourse with them. If a Hindoo happens to touch a Paria as he is passing, he thinks himself defiled, and is obliged to bathe immediately.
The Parias are not allowed to enter any temple, and have particular places set apart for their dwellings. They are miserably poor, and live in the most wretched huts; their food consists of all kinds of offal and even diseased cattle; they go about nearly naked, or with only a few rags at most on them, and perform the hardest and commonest work.
The four castes are subdivided into an immense number of sects, seventy of which are allowed to eat meat, while others are compelled to abstain from it altogether. Strictly speaking, the Hindoo religion forbids the spilling of blood, and consequently the eating of meat; but the seventy sects just mentioned are an exception. There are, too, certain religious festivals, at which animals are sacrificed. A cow, however, is never killed. The food of the Hindoos consists principally of rice, fruit, fish, and vegetables. They are very moderate in their living, and have only two simple meals a day—one in the morning and the other in the evening. Their general drink is water or milk, varied sometimes with cocoa wine.
The Hindoos are of the middle height, slim, and delicately formed; their features are agreeable and mild; the face is oval, the nose sharply chiselled, the lip by no means thick, the eye fine and soft, and the hair smooth and black. Their complexion varies, according to the locality, from dark to light brown; among the upper classes, some of them, especially the women, are almost white.
There are a great number of Mahomedans in India; and as they are extremely skilful and active, most trades and professions are in their hands. They also willingly hire themselves as servants to Europeans.
Men here do that kind of work which we are accustomed to see performed by women. They embroider with white wool, coloured silk, and gold; make ladies’ head-dresses, wash and iron, mend the linen, and even take situations as nurses for little children. There are a few Chinese, too, here, most of whom are in the shoemaking trade.
Calcutta, the capital of Bengal, is situated on the Hoogly, which at this point is so deep and broad, that the largest men-of-war and East Indiamen can lie at anchor before the town. The population consists of about 600,000 souls, of whom, not counting the English troops, hardly more than 2,000 are Europeans and Americans. The town is divided into several portions—namely, the Business-town, the Black-town, and the European quarter. The Business-town and Black-town are very ugly, containing narrow, crooked streets, filled with wretched houses and miserable huts, between which there are warehouses, counting-houses, and now and then some palace or other. Narrow paved canals run through all the streets, in order to supply the necessary amount of water for the numerous daily ablutions of the Hindoos. The Business-town and Black-town are always so densely crowded, that when a carriage drives through, the servants are obliged to get down and run on before, in order to warn the people, or push them out of the way.
The European quarter of the town, however, which is often termed the City of Palaces—a name which it richly merits—is, on the contrary, very beautiful. Every good-sized house, by the way, is called, as it is in Venice, a palace. Most of these palaces are situated in gardens surrounded by high walls; they seldom join one another, for which reason there are but few imposing squares or streets.
With the exception of the governor’s palace, none of these buildings can be compared for architectural beauty and richness with the large palaces of Rome, Florence, and Venice. Most of them are only distinguished from ordinary dwelling-houses by a handsome portico upon brick pillars covered with cement, and terrace-like roof’s. Inside, the rooms are large and lofty, and the stairs of greyish marble or even wood; but neither in doors or out are there any fine statues or sculptures.
The Palace of the governor is as I before said, a magnificent building—one that would be an ornament to the finest city in the world. It is built in the form of a horse-shoe, with a handsome cupola in the centre: the portico, as well as both the wings, is supported upon columns. The internal arrangements are as bad as can possibly be imagined; the supper-room being, for instance, a story higher than the ball-room. In both these rooms there is a row of columns on each side, and the floor of the latter is composed of Agra marble. The pillars and walls are covered with a white cement, which is equal to marble for its polish. The private rooms are not worth looking at; they merely afford the spectator an opportunity of admiring the skill of the architect, who has managed to turn the large space at his command to the smallest imaginable profit.
Among the other buildings worthy of notice are the Town-hall, the Hospital, the Museum, Ochterlony’s Monument, the Mint, and the English Cathedral.
The Town-hall is large and handsome. The hall itself extends through one entire story. There are a few monuments in white marble to the memory of several distinguished men of modern times. It is here that all kinds of meetings are held, all speculations and undertakings discussed, and concerts, balls, and other entertainments given.
The Hospital consists of several small houses, each standing in the midst of a grass plot. The male patients are lodged in one house, the females and children in a second, while the lunatics are confined in the third. The wards were spacious, airy, and excessively clean. Only Christians are received as patients.
The hospital for natives is similar, but considerably smaller. The patients are received for nothing, and numbers who cannot be accommodated in the building itself are supplied with drugs and medicines.
The Museum, which was only founded in 1836, possesses, considering the short space of time that has elapsed since its establishment, a very rich collection, particularly of quadrupeds and skeletons, but there are very few specimens of insects, and most of those are injured. In one of the rooms is a beautifully-executed model of the celebrated Tatch in Agra; several sculptures and bas-reliefs were lying around. The figures seemed to me very clumsy; the architecture, however, is decidedly superior. The museum is open daily. I visited it several times, and, on every occasion, to my great astonishment, met a number of natives, who seemed to take the greatest interest in the objects before them.
Ochterlony’s Monument is a simple stone column, 165 feet in height, standing, like a large note of admiration, on a solitary grassplot, in memory of General Ochterlony, who was equally celebrated as a statesman and a warrior. Whoever is not afraid of mounting 222 steps will be recompensed by an extensive view of the town, the river, and the surrounding country; the last, however, is very monotonous, consisting of an endless succession of plains bounded only by the horizon.
Not far from the column is a neat little mosque, whose countless towers and cupolas are ornamented with gilt metal balls, which glitter and glisten like so many stars in the heavens. It is surrounded by a pretty court-yard, at the entrance of which those who wish to enter the mosque are obliged to leave their shoes. I complied with this regulation, but did not feel recompensed for so doing, as I saw merely a small empty hall, the roof of which was supported by a few stone pillars. Glass lamps were suspended from the roof and walls, and the floor was paved with Agra marble, which is very common in Calcutta, being brought down the Ganges.
The Mint presents a most handsome appearance; it is built in the pure Grecian style, except that it is not surrounded by pillars on all its four sides. The machinery in it is said to be especially good, surpassing anything of the kind to be seen even in Europe. I am unable to express any opinion on the subject, and can only say that all I saw appeared excessively ingenious and perfect. The metal is softened by heat and then flattened into plates by means of cylinders. These plates are cut into strips and stamped. The rooms in which the operations take place are spacious, lofty, and airy. The motive-power is mostly steam.
Of all the Christian places of worship, the English Cathedral is the most magnificent. It is built in the Gothic style, with a fine large tower rising above half-a-dozen smaller ones. There are other churches with Gothic towers, but these edifices are all extremely simple in the interior, with the exception of the Armenian church, which has the wall near the altar crowded with pictures in gold frames.
The notorious “Black Hole,” in which the Rajah Suraja Dowla cast 150 of the principal prisoners when he obtained possession of Calcutta in 1756, is at present changed into a warehouse. At the entrance stands an obelisk fifty feet high, and on it are inscribed the names of his victims.
The Botanical Garden lies five miles distant from the town. It was founded in the year 1743, but is more like a natural park than a garden, as it is by no means so remarkable for its collection of flowers and plants as for the number of trees and shrubs, which are distributed here and there with studied negligence in the midst of large grass-plots. A neat little monument, with a marble bust, is erected to the memory of the founder. The most remarkable objects are two banana-trees. These trees belong to the fig-tree species, and sometimes attain a height of forty feet. The fruit is very small, round, and of a dark-red; it yields oil when burnt. When the trunk has reached an elevation of about fifteen feet, a number of small branches shoot out horizontally in all directions, and from these quantity of threadlike roots descend perpendicularly to the ground, in which they soon firmly fix themselves. When they are sufficiently grown, they send out shoots like the parent trunk; and this process is repeated ad infinitum, so that it is easy to understand how a single tree may end by forming a whole forest, in which thousands may find a cool and shady retreat. This tree is held sacred by the Hindoos. They erect altars to the god Rama beneath its shade, and there, too, the Brahmin instructs his scholars.
The oldest of these two trees, together with its family, already describes a circumference of more than 600 feet, and the original trunk measures nearly fifty feet round.
Adjoining the Botanical Garden is the Bishop’s College, in which the natives are trained as missionaries. After the Governor’s Palace, it is the finest building in Calcutta, and consists of two main buildings and three wings. One of the main buildings is occupied by an extremely neat chapel. The library, which is a noble-looking room, contains a rich collection of the works of the best authors, and is thrown open to the pupils; but their industry does not appear to equal the magnificence of the arrangements, for, on taking a book from the bookcase, I immediately let it fall again and ran to the other end of the room; a swarm of bees had flown upon me from out the bookcase.
The dining and sleeping rooms, as well as all the other apartments, are so richly and conveniently furnished, that a person might easily suppose that the establishment had been founded for the sons of the richest English families, who were so accustomed to comfort from their tenderest infancy that they were desirous of transplanting it to all quarters of the globe; but no one would ever imagine the place had been built for “the labourers in the vineyard of the Lord.”
I surveyed this splendid institution with a sadder heart than I might have done, because I knew it was intended for the natives, who had first to put off their own simple mode of life and accustom themselves to convenience and superfluity, only to wander forth into the woods and wildernesses, and exercise their office in the midst of savages and barbarians.
Among the sights of Calcutta may be reckoned the garden of the chief judge, Mr. Lawrence Peel, which is equally interesting to the botanist and the amateur, and which, in rare flowers, plants, and trees, is much richer than the Botanical Garden itself. The noble park, laid out with consummate skill, the luxuriant lawns, interspersed and bordered with flowers and plants, the crystal ponds, the shady alleys, with their bosquets and gigantic trees, all combine to form a perfect paradise, in the midst of which stands the palace of the fortunate owner.
Opposite this park, in the large village of Alifaughur, is situated a modest little house, which is the birthplace of much that is good. It contains a small surgery, and is inhabited by a native who has studied medicine. Here the natives may obtain both advice and medicine for nothing. This kind and benevolent arrangement is due to Lady Julia Cameron, wife of the law member of the Supreme Council of India, Charles Henry Cameron.
I had the pleasure of making this lady’s acquaintance, and found her to be, in every respect, an ornament to her sex. Wherever there is any good to be done, she is sure to take the lead. In the years 1846-7, she set on foot subscriptions for the starving Irish, writing to the most distant provinces and calling upon every Englishman to contribute his mite. In this manner she collected the large sum of 80,000 rupees (£8,000.)
Lady Peel has distinguished herself also in the field of science, and Bürger’s “Leonore” has been beautifully translated by her into English. She is also a kind mother and affectionate wife, and lives only for her family, caring little for the world. Many call her an original; would that we had a few more such originals!
I had brought no letters of recommendation to this amiable woman, but she happened to hear of my travels and paid me a visit. In fact, the hospitality I met with here was really astonishing. I was cordially welcomed in the very first circles, and every one did all in his power to be of use to me. I could not help thinking of Count Rehberg, the Austrian minister at Rio Janeiro, who thought he had conferred a great mark of distinction by inviting me once to his villa; and, to purchase this honour, I had either to walk an hour in the burning heat or to pay six milreis (13s.) for a carriage. In Calcutta, a carriage was always sent for me. I could relate a great many more anecdotes of the worthy count, who made me feel how much I was to blame for not descending from a rich and aristocratic family. I experienced different treatment from the member of the Supreme Council, Charles Henry Cameron, and from the chief judge, Mr. Peel. These gentlemen respected me for myself alone without troubling their heads about my ancestors.
During my stay in Calcutta, I was invited to a large party in honour of Mr. Peel’s birthday; but I refused the invitation, as I had no suitable dress. My excuse, however, was not allowed, and I accompanied Lady Cameron, in a simple coloured muslin dress, to a party where all the other ladies were dressed in silk and satin and covered with lace and jewellery; yet no one was ashamed of me, but conversed freely with me, and showed me every possible attention.
A very interesting promenade for a stranger is that to the Strand, or “Maytown,” as it is likewise called. It is skirted on one side by the banks of the Hoogly, and on the other by beautiful meadows, beyond which is the noble Chaudrini Road, consisting of rows of noble palaces, and reckoned the finest quarter of Calcutta. Besides this, there is a fine view of the governor’s palace, the cathedral, Ochterlony’s monument, the magnificent reservoirs, Fort William, a fine prutagon with extensive outworks, and many other remarkable objects.
Every evening, before sunset, all the fashionable world of Calcutta streams hitherward. The purse-proud European, the stuck-up Baboo or Nabob, the deposed Rajah, are to be beheld driving in splendid European carriages, followed by a multitude of servants, in Oriental costume, some standing behind their carriages, and some running before it. The Rajahs and Nabobs are generally dressed in silk robes embroidered with gold, over which are thrown the most costly Indian shawls. Ladies and gentlemen mounted upon English blood horses gallop along the meadows, while crowds of natives are to be seen laughing and joking on their way home, after the conclusion of their day’s work. Nor is the scene on the Hoogly less animated; first-class East Indiamen are lying at anchor, unloading or being cleaned out, while numberless small craft pass continually to and fro.
I had been told that the population here suffered very much from elephantiasis, and that numbers of poor wretches with horribly swollen feet were to be seen at almost every turn. But this is not true. I did not meet with as many cases of the kind during five weeks here, as I did in one day in Rio Janeiro.
On one occasion I paid a visit to a rich Baboo. The property of the family, consisting of three brothers, was reckoned at £150,000. The master of the house received me at the door, and accompanied me to the reception-room. He was clad in a large dress of white muslin, over which was wound a magnificent Indian shawl, which extended from the hips to the feet, and made up for the transparency of the muslin. One end of the shawl was thrown over his shoulder in the most picturesque manner.
The parlour was furnished in the European fashion. A large hand organ stood in one corner, and in the other a spacious bookcase, with the works of the principal English poets and philosophers; but it struck me that these books were there more for show than use, for the two volumes of Byron’s works were turned different ways, while Young’s Night Thoughts were stuck between. There were a few engravings and pictures, which the worthy Baboo imagined to be an ornament to the walls, but which were not of so much value as the frames that contained them.
My host sent for his two sons, handsome boys, one seven and the other four years old, and introduced them to me. I inquired, although it was quite contrary to custom to do so, after his wife and daughters. Our poor sex ranks so low in the estimation of the Hindoos, that it is almost an insult to a person to mention any of his female relations. He overlooked this in me, as a European, and immediately sent for his daughters. The youngest, a most lovely baby six months old, was nearly white, with large splendid eyes, the brilliancy of which was greatly increased by the delicate eyelids, which were painted a deep blue round the edges. The elder daughter, nine years old, had a somewhat common coarse face. Her father, who spoke tolerable English, introduced her to me as a bride, and invited me to the marriage which was to take place in six weeks. I was so astonished at this, considering the child’s extreme youth, that I remarked he no doubt meant her betrothal, but he assured me that she would then be married and delivered over to her husband.
On my asking whether the girl loved her intended bridegroom, I was told that she would see him for the first time at the celebration of the nuptials. The Baboo informed me further, that every person like himself looked out for a son-in-law as soon as possible, and that the younger a girl married the more honourable was it accounted; an unmarried daughter was a disgrace to her father, who was looked upon as possessed of no paternal love if he did not get her off his hands. As soon as he has found a son-in-law, he describes his bodily and mental qualities as well as his worldly circumstances to his wife, and with this description she is obliged to content herself, for she is never allowed to see her future son-in-law, either as the betrothed, or the husband of her child. The bridegroom is never considered to belong to the family of the bride, but the latter leaves her own relations for those of her husband. No woman, however, is allowed to see or speak with the male relations of her husband, nor dare she ever appear before the men-servants of her household without being veiled. If she wishes to pay a visit to her mother, she is carried to her shut up in a palanquin.
I also saw the Baboo’s wife and one of his sisters-in-law. The former was twenty-five years old and very corpulent, the latter was fifteen and was slim and well made. The reason of this, as I was told, is that the females, although married so young, seldom become mothers before their fourteenth year, and until then preserve their original slimness. After their first confinement, they remain for six or eight weeks shut up in their room, without taking the least exercise, and living all the time on the most sumptuous and dainty food. This fattening process generally produces the desired effect. The reader must know that the Hindoos, like the Mahomedans, are partial to corpulent ladies. I never saw any specimens of this kind of beauty, however, among the lower classes.
The two ladies were not very decently attired. Their bodies and heads were enveloped in ample blue and white muslin drapery, embroidered with gold, and bordered with lace of the same material as broad as a man’s hand, but the delicate texture {150} was so ethereal, that every outline of the body was visible beneath it. Besides this, whenever they moved their arms the muslin opened and displayed not only their arm, but a portion of their bosom and body. They appeared to pay a great deal of attention to their hair; their chief care seemed to consist in replacing the muslin on their heads, whenever it chanced to fall off. As long as a female is unmarried, she is never allowed to lay aside her head-dress.
These ladies were so overloaded with gold, pearls, and diamonds, that they really resembled beasts of burden. Large pearls, with other precious stones strung together, adorned their head and neck, as likewise did heavy gold chains and mounted gold coins. Their ears, which were pierced all over—I counted twelve holes in one ear—were so thickly laden with similar ornaments, that the latter could not be distinguished from one another; all that was to be seen was a confused mass of gold, pearls, and diamonds. On each arm were eight or ten costly bracelets; the principal one, which was four inches broad, being composed of massive gold, with six rows of small brilliants. I took it in my hand, and found that it weighed at least half a pound. They had gold chains twisted three times round their thighs, and their ankles and feet were also encircled with gold rings and chains; their feet were dyed with henna.
The two ladies then brought me their jewel-cases, and showed me a great many more valuable ornaments. The Hindoos must spend immense sums in jewels and gold and silver embroidered Dacca muslin, as in these articles it is the endeavour of every lady to outrival all her acquaintances. As they had anticipated my arrival, the two ladies were arrayed in their most costly apparel; being determined to exhibit themselves to me in true Indian splendour.