We drove through the very extensive and well-arranged Botanical Garden of Kandy, designed as a sort of experimental nursery for the introduction of such plants as are not indigenous to the island, but which might prove to be of value to the planters could they be acclimated. The selection of various trees and plants is very extensive, and mingled with those of native origin, together forming a collection of remarkable interest. We were told that the garden had been organized for some sixty years, and it is, undoubtedly, the finest in the East, next to that of Calcutta. It covers a hundred and fifty acres of well economized land. There was one fine group, we had almost said grove, of bamboos to be seen here, the stems being considerably over a hundred feet high, and from eight to ten inches in diameter, – a native of the spot. The rapidity of growth which characterizes these grasses – for that is their family – is almost incredible. The large cluster here spoken of was less than ninety days old, and, the superintendent told us, increased twelve inches a day by actual measurement! We had read of plants growing at such speed in the tropics as to be visible to the watcher, and this group of bamboos was increasing at the rate of half an inch each hour. It being observed that the atmosphere was impregnated with a delicate flavor of vanilla, inquiry was made for the cause, and the plant was pointed out to us growing in thrifty abundance close at hand. Nowhere had we previously seen such extraordinary exuberance and variety of tropical vegetation combined.
Some of the palms were of stupendous size and height, while there appeared to be a spirit of emulation between talipots, palmyras, date-palms and fan-palms, as to which should develop into the finest specimen of its class. There were plenty of flying foxes in these grounds, and some remarkable specimens of the jungle-rope creepers, or elephant-creepers, as they are more generally called here, which clasp the trees to which they attach themselves as if with the purpose of their destruction, which they often succeed in producing by their anaconda-like-hug. The flying foxes, as was explained to us, are a great annoyance, and destructive to fruit and blossoms, always attacking the choicest specimens. They move in flocks or herds of hundreds from one place to another, as the most desirable food tempts them. The natives never touch them, but hunters from Europe have cooked and eaten them, pronouncing the flesh almost the same as that of the hare, with similar game-like flavor. It is not safe to walk much in the more moist portions of the garden as there is an abundance of snakes, and especially of one poisonous kind which is the terror of the natives.
On the passage from and back to Colombo, the scenery was grand, and a source of great pleasure, for our appreciation in this line was becoming somewhat trained. So abrupt was the rising grade of the road on the portion approaching Kandy, that even our small train of two passenger cars required two engines to enable it to surmount the hills. The road wound about the mountain in rather startling proximity to the deep gorges and precipitous cliffs; but, as remarked above, giving us glimpses of scenery worthy of the Yosemite in the opposite hemisphere. At the several small stations where we made a brief halt, girls and boys brought to the windows of the cars yellow bunches of freshly picked, ripe bananas, very choice and appetizing, the price of which was six pennies for a bunch of twelve or fifteen, and so we partook of the fat of the land. New England fruits, as a rule, are more satisfactory to us than those of any other country, delicious as we sometimes find them in the tropics; but an exception may be safely made in favor of freshly picked, ripe, luscious bananas and pine-apples. Green cocoanuts, which the natives much affect, were offered to us, but having a decided preference for ripe fruit, these were respectfully but firmly declined.
The common people along the route live in the very simplest and frailest of huts, made of bamboo frames with walls of mud, the roofs consisting of a thatching of large palm leaves ingeniously combined, one layer upon another, so as to effectually exclude even equatorial rains. The overlapping eaves come within a couple of feet of the ground, the huts being one story high. They have no chimneys nor windows. The door, always open, admits all the required light, and there is no cold to be feared in Ceylon. Whatever of cooking the people do, and it is very little, is accomplished out of doors. Many of the small hamlets through which we passed were embedded in low-lying, thickly-shaded woods, showing the salubrity of the climate, since in some countries such a location would prove to be the very hot-bed of jungle fever. Here the natives work in the rice-fields and the swamps at all seasons of the year, and seem to be perfectly healthy; but we were told that when Europeans attempt it they die off by scores. Quite a large number of Singhalese are employed by dealers at Colombo to hunt the beds of small streams, and to dig in the mountains in search of gems, such as sapphires, cat's-eyes, moon-stones, topazes, and rubies, which, after being cut, are sold to European and American travelers, and also exported to the Paris and London jewelers. A large proportion of the finest precious stones in the market come from this island.
The pools in the low grounds here and there were rendered beautiful and fragrant by the lotus in full bloom, bearing flowers eight inches in diameter, rivaling the magnolias, which were plenty enough, but which seemed by no means superior to our northern specimens. Does this proud representative of Flora's kingdom, like humanity, require a northern and invigorating atmosphere to inspire its greatest fragrance and best qualities? Coffee plantations are most numerous inland, though they have lately developed a serious blight which has reduced the production at least fifty per cent., causing many to abandon the cultivation of the berry. It is not, like the cinnamon, indigenous to Ceylon, but was introduced here from the main-land. Unless this serious scourge can be overcome, coffee, as an export from the island, will very soon cease. The kind best known and mostly grown here is the "Arab," which thrives at an elevation of three or four thousand feet. It is bush-like in form, and trimmed to within three feet of the ground, both for the purpose of throwing down the strength of the growth into the berry, and for the convenience of picking. There are other sorts of coffee raised, but this has formed the staple of the island. Experiments are being tried with several other kinds just now, cuttings growing with good promise in nurseries, which were brought from the West Indies and South America. Curious facts suggest themselves in this connection. The grape-vines of France, which have developed blight, transferred to California, take on fresh life and flourish. Those of the latter State, which show symptoms of exhausted life, renew their productiveness when in the soil of Europe. The same result relating to coffee is hoped for in Ceylon: with an exchange of seed, plentiful crops are confidently anticipated, a matter in which commerce is much interested.
Realizing that the coffee crop is still in an experimental condition, some of the planters are giving their attention to the cinchona, which thrives greatly at Ceylon, even flourishing at elevations where coffee naturally dies out. The seeds of the cinchona are planted in nurseries, and when six months old are transplanted into prepared fields, where they make rapid growth. They do not begin to yield until the tree is eight years old. The earnestness with which the planters have generally adopted this idea must, if successful, as it seems sure to be, lead to very decided results when the crop becomes available for the markets of the world.
Banana groves and orchards bending under the weight of the rich nutritious fruit, tall cocoanut-trees with half a ton of ripening nuts in every tuft top, ant-hills nearly as high as native houses, rippling cascades, small rivers winding through the green valleys, tall flamingoes presiding over tiny lakes, and flowers of every hue and shape, together with birds such as one gazes at with curiosity in northern museums, all crowded upon our vision on this trip inland. No one should fail to visit Kandy who lands at Colombo, there is so much to see and to marvel at. Ceylon is a very Gan-Eden, the fairest known example of tropical luxuriance in all its natural features, its vegetable and animal kingdoms, its fruits, flowers, and scenery. In point of location the island is also greatly favored. It is fortunately situated outside the region of the cyclones, so frequent at certain seasons in the Bay of Bengal and the Indian Ocean, as well as being free from the hurricanes of the Mauritius Sea, and the volcanic disturbances of the Eastern Archipelago. Snow is absolutely unknown. The exhibition of zodiacal light is not uncommon, and mirage in its many singular and interesting aspects is frequent; while the effulgence of the moon and stars of this latitude, – a constantly recurring hymn written in light, – will render the most prosy individual enthusiastic, keeping the heart constantly awake to love and beauty.
Ceylon is also much richer than is generally realized in its prehistoric monuments, – ancient Hindoo and Buddhist temples, and ruins of lofty pagodas from three to four hundred feet in height, dating many centuries previous to the appearance of Christ upon earth. What an unexplored field remains for the antiquarian, not quite untrodden, but still undeveloped! There is every evidence to show that there once existed upon this island a great and powerful empire; the gigantic remains of palaces and temples at once suggest the fact. There are also ruins to be seen of a most elaborate system of irrigation, which must have covered the country from Adam's Peak to Galle, like a net-work, with most perfect means to this end, so excellent as to be the marvel of modern engineers. Their completeness, intelligent purpose, and extent are marvelous. But no one can say, or reasonably surmise, what caused the ruin and decadence of the ancient capitals, which, like those about Delhi, have crumbled away, leaving only a blank memorial of their existence. What could have swept from the globe a population of millions, and left us no clearer record of their once highly civilized occupancy? The carved pillars, ornamental fragments of temples, and stone slabs skillfully wrought, which are scattered through the jungle, and in some instances overgrown by dense forests, attest both material greatness and far-reaching antiquity. It would seem as though nature had tried to cover up the many wrinkles of age with blooming vegetation. There are no legends even extant relating to the earliest of these remains. Pæstum, Memphis, and Cumæ reach far back into the dim past, though here the antiquarian is able to light us with the lamp of his knowledge; but as to the forest-covered remains of Ceylon, all is a blank, skeletons of the dead and buried past, mementos of a race who trod this beautiful island perhaps before the Pyramids or the Sphinx existed.
At Singapore, Penang, and Colombo it was observed that the common classes were incessantly chewing the betel-nut, which gives to their teeth and lips a color as if bathed in fresh blood. It is a well-known and long-established practice. The men carry the means about them at all times, and taking a piece of the nut, enclose it in a leaf of the same tree, adding a small quantity of quicklime; folding these together they chow them vigorously, one quid lasting for twenty-five minutes or half an hour, being at times permitted to rest between the gum and the cheek, as seamen masticate a quid of tobacco. The nut is known to be a powerful tonic, but only a small portion of the juice is swallowed. The habit is universal among the lower classes of Asiatics. In the southern districts of India, pepper and cardamom seeds are added to the quid, and it is then considered to be a partial preventive against malarial influences. Unless it produced some agreeable stimulating effect its use would not be so common. Wherever we go, among civilized or savage races, upon islands or upon continents, in the chilly North, or the languid, melting South, we find man resorting to some stimulant other than natural food and drink. It seems to be an instinctive craving exhibited and satisfied as surely in the wilds of Africa, or the South Sea Islands, as by the opium-consuming Chinese, or the brandy-drinking Anglo-Saxons.
CHAPTER VI
Arrival in India. – Tuticorin. – Madura. – Bungalows. – Reptiles and Insects. – Wonderful Pagoda. – Sacred Elephants. – Trichinopoly and its Temples. – Bishop Heber. – Native Silversmiths. – Tanjore. – The Rajah's Palace. – Pagoda and an Immense Stone Idol. – Southern India. – City of Madras. – Want of a Harbor. – In and about the Capital. – Voyage through the Bay of Bengal. – The Hoogly River. – Political Capital of India. – A Crazy King. – The Himalayas. – Sunset and Sunrise at Darjeeling.
We took passage in the British mail steamship Kebela from Colombo to Tuticorin, the extreme point of southern India, once famous for its pearl fisheries; but now as forsaken and sleepy a spot as can be found on any sea-coast. The distance from Colombo is less than two hundred miles through the Straits of Manar, and we landed on the following day, after a stormy passage, during which the rain came down with tropical profuseness. Ceylon, at harvest time on the plantations, imports laborers from the southern provinces of India, who are very glad thus to earn a small sum of money, a commodity of which they see little enough at home. Seven or eight hundred of these laborers, having fulfilled their object at the island, were returning to the main-land, and literally crowded the lower deck of the Kebela fore and aft. They formed rather picturesque groups as they reclined or stood in their rags, nakedness, and high colors combined.
When we got up the anchor in the harbor of Colombo, it seemed to be pleasant enough, but scarcely were we outside of the breakwater before the steamer began to roll and pitch like an awkward mule under the tickling application of the spur. Too much accustomed to the roughness of the sea to heed this, we were nevertheless very sorry for these exposed deck-passengers, few of whom escaped seasickness. Crowded together as they were during the copious rainfall, their sufferings that afternoon and night were pitiable. There were some families with women and children, and such shelter as a canvas awning could afford was kindly arranged for them. When we anchored in shoal water off the coast next morning, and the big flat-boats came to take them ashore, they had hardly strength and spirit sufficient to tumble into these craft, no doubt promising themselves, as usual, never, never again to quit the dry land. The water being very shallow, the Kebela anchored five miles from shore, making it necessary for us to take a small steam-launch to land at the little toy pier built on the beach. Our miniature vessel was tossed about like a bit of cork on the waves, but we had long since come to regard a wetting by salt-water as a trifling matter.
Tuticorin is a quaint old place of very little importance, dingy and dilapidated. It is represented to have twenty thousand inhabitants, but one would not have set the figure at more than half that number. There is still something done here in the pearl fisheries, though the most active stations are situated some thirty miles up the coast. We here got our first view of a new race of people, the East Indian proper, in his native land. It was easy to detect special differences in the race from the people left but a short day's sail behind us. They were tall and erect in figure, square shouldered, and broad chested. Their complexions were lighter, features clearer cut, and they were a more active race. They had not full lips or flat noses like the Singhalese and Malays; so that although there was a similarity between them, yet there was a strong difference when one came to sum up the characteristics of each.
The architecture of the town is peculiar, and the few old public buildings odd in the extreme. Tuticorin sends some cotton, rice, and cocoanuts to market, but its business must be very limited. An hour's walk took us all over the town without discovering any object of special interest. Being connected by rail with northern India, if there were depth of water sufficient for steamers to make a landing here, without lying five miles off shore, Tuticorin would certainly become an important Indian port. It was New Year's Day when we landed, and was apparently being celebrated in an humble way by the few people whom we saw. The children were displaying toys, playing games, and some bore flowers aloft arranged upon poles as wreaths and hoops. Itinerant peddlers were disposing of sweetmeats to eager boys and girls. Both the articles sold and the money which was paid for them looked new and strange. Some young maidens, in half-civilized attire, displayed high-colored garments and small scarlet kerchiefs on their heads. The passion for, and habit of wearing cheap jewelry, had been imported even here, and some of the extravagances of Colombo were copied by the women in ornamentation of ears, nose, and lips. Little babies were thus bedecked, and the tender ears of some consequently hung distorted and stretched three inches downward, both the upper rim and the lobe of the infant's ear being perforated with rings. Brass bangles on arms, wrists, and ankles were the rule, some of the men also wearing them. Here, on the main-land, the tattooing of the body seemed to have ceased, and the shining, naked skin of the men and women looked clean and healthy.
In the afternoon of the day on which we landed, the cars of the South Indian Railway were taken to Madura, one hundred miles northward, where we arrived late in the evening, and took lodging in a government bungalow, unfurnished, except by a few temporary articles improvised for the occasion, our meals being served at the railroad station not far away. The bungalow was in the midst of a grove of cocoanut palms which loomed high above our heads, laden with masses of the large brown fruit. It was dark and shady even at noonday. Close by was an ancient stone well, baths, and irrigating means, showing that where the jungle now is had formerly been a cultivated field with crops of grain. Native shanties were located all about the neighborhood, the people living mostly out of doors, gypsy fashion. It would be too hot to cook or to eat within these low-roofed mud walls. We found that flies, mosquitoes, and scorpions were inclined to dispute the possession of the bungalow with us; and ugly looking snakes were seen in such proximity to the low piazza as to suggest their uninvited entrance by doors or windows. India swarms with vermin, especially in the jungle. We did not fail to examine our shoes before putting them on in the morning, lest the scorpions should have established a squatter's right therein. Flying foxes were seen upon the trees, sometimes hanging motionless by the feet, at others swinging to and fro with a steady sweep. Ants were now and then observed moving over the ground in columns a foot wide and three or four yards long, evidently with a well defined purpose. In the morning light, after the sun had risen, clouds of butterflies, many-colored, sunshine-loving creatures, large and small, in infinite variety, flitted about the bungalow, some with such gaudy spread of wing as to tempt pursuit – but without a proper net they are difficult to secure. Large brown, bronze, and yellow beetles walked through the short grass with the coolness and gait of young poultry. Occasionally a chameleon turned up its singularly bright eye, as though to take cognizance of our presence. The redundancy of insect and reptile life is wonderful in southern India. The railroad stations and the road itself, admirably constructed and very fairly equipped, are the only evidences of European possession to be seen between Tuticorin and Tanjore, a distance of four hundred and fifty miles. The road passes through a generally well cultivated region where thrifty fields of wheat, barley, and sugar-cane were to be seen, with here and there broad fields of intensely yellow mustard, but the appearance of the people and their mud huts indicated abject poverty.
The principal attraction to the traveler in Madura, which contains some fifty thousand inhabitants, is a remarkable and ancient pagoda, supported by two thousand stone columns. It was dedicated to Parvati, wife of Shiva, and is one of the largest and finest monuments of Hindoo art in existence, covering in all its divisions, courts, shrines, colonnades, and tanks twenty acres of ground. It has nine lofty tower-like gates of entrance and exit, each one of which has the effect of forming an individual pagoda. In the central area of the temple is what is known as the Tank of the Golden Lotus, being a large body of water covering a couple of acres of ground, leading into which are broad stone steps on all sides, where the people of both sexes were bathing for religious purification; an idea not hardly compatible with the filthy condition of the water itself, which was nearly covered with a green slime. The temple contains many living sacred elephants, deified bulls and cows, enshrined idols, and, to us, meaningless ornamentations, too varied and numerous for description. Our local guide stated the probable cost at a figure so high we refrain from recording it. The elephants rivaled the beggars in their importunities, being accustomed to receive unlimited delicacies from visitors, such as sweetmeats, cakes, candies, and the like, of which these creatures are immoderately fond. One peculiarity of this temple was that it seemed to serve a double purpose, being dedicated to trade and religion. Within its walls we found established a large number of trading booths, forming a sort of bazar or fair, where were exhibited dry goods, toys, domestic utensils, jewelry; in short, all sorts of fancy articles. Madura is famous for producing high-colored napkins, small shawls and table-cloths, all on fire with color, and here they were displayed in strong kaleidoscopic effect. We thought it must be the occasion of some special charitable fair, after the practice of religious societies in more modern countries; but were informed that these merchants were engaged in their regular vocation, and were permanent fixtures in the temple. The natives crowded about these small bazars, and seemed to freely invest the few coppers they had. We were followed about the courts, chapels, and departments of the immense structure by a motley and curious crowd, the girls and women satisfied to watch and stare at us; but the boys had imported a London and Dublin idea: turning cart-wheels, somersaults, and walking all about us on their hands, with feet in the air, to attract attention and elicit pennies. One little fellow gyrated about in a most marvelous style, keeping so persistently topsy-turvy as to grow black in the face, and we finally paid him to keep right side uppermost. Begging is reduced to a science in India, and our little party were beset, as by an army with banners.
Half a mile from this grand pagoda is situated Timal Naik's Tank, so named after the munificent rajah who built it. He reigned at Madura from 1621 to 1657, building palaces and temples by the score. The so-called tank is an artificial lake extending over six or eight acres, with a temple in its centre, very picturesque in effect, and approached only by boats. Timal Naik's palace was also visited, built some three hundred years ago, of granite, and a very remarkable piece of solid architecture it is for India to have produced, in that section, and at that epoch. The principal hall of this royal residence has over a hundred stone pillars supporting it. We were shown a grand Saracenic hall, with a noble dome nearly a hundred feet across, called the Hall of Justice. The whole of this grand palace is now being thoroughly restored, after having been permitted for half a century and more to fall into partial decay. We must not forget to mention the banqueting hall of the palace; nothing finer of this character exists in modern architecture. The whole was a surprise and delight, as we had not even read or heard of this Indian palace.
Another hundred miles northward by rail brought us to the city of Trichinopoly, where we were quartered at a government bungalow, as at Madura, taking our meals at the dining-room of the railroad station, and were most agreeably disappointed with both the service and the provisions. Surely some professional cook had dropped out of the skies and settled here. The food was prepared and served as delicately as at a Parisian café. The variety of fruit and pastry was a temptation to the most satiated appetite. Everything was neat and clean, the linen faultless, and the glass and china were of the choicest. We often recalled, when putting up with indifferent service and deprivations elsewhere, the admirable entertainment which we experienced so unexpectedly at this point. Here the famous Rock of Trichinopoly, from five to six hundred feet high, crested with the Temple of Ganesa, was ascended, and a group of pagodas visited of the most lofty and striking character, similar in extent and general design to those already spoken of. It is not long since, at the assembling of a thousand and more pilgrims upon this lofty and exposed Rock of Trichinopoly, a panic ensued from some unknown cause, when fully half of these pilgrims lost their lives by being crowded off and falling over the rocky precipice, a distance of five hundred feet. There is no protection to the narrow, winding path by which the apex is reached, and some nerve is required to accomplish the ascent.
The view from this eminence is exceptionally fine. The native town far below us looked as though it had been shaken up and dropped there in confusion by some convulsion of nature. There is no regularity in the laying out of the place; it is a confused mass of buildings, narrow paths, crooked roads, and low-built mud cabins. We visited what is called the silversmith's quarter, but it was utterly unlike what such a locality would be elsewhere, composed of one-story mud cabins, in narrow filthy lanes full of chickens, mangy dogs, cats, and quarrelsome children. No one but a native would suspect these hovels to contain choice and finely wrought silver ornaments, and that the entire manufacture was performed upon the spot. These workmen, nevertheless, have a reputation for the excellence and originality of their product, which extends beyond the borders of India. Boxes were produced from odd corners, which were full of exquisite silver work, forming such articles as bracelets, necklaces, rings, pins, belts, etc., from which our party made selections. Trichinopoly is also famous for the manufacture of cigars, called cheroots, exported to all parts of India and the East, and which keep employed the busy fingers of a large number of the men and women of the town. In passing the open doors of the dwellings, cabins, or huts, young girls and boys were seen rolling up the cheroots, sitting cross-legged beside low benches. The manufacture of cutlery is also a specialty here, and the place has some sixty thousand population. It will be remembered that the remains of Bishop Heber were buried at Trichinopoly, where he was drowned while bathing, in the year 1826. Here also occurred some fierce struggles between the French and English for the sovereignty of southern India.
Two hundred miles of night travel by rail brought us to Tanjore, a large fortified city, where we were again quartered in a government bungalow, there being no hotel designed to accommodate travelers. The palace of the late Rajah, an ancient building with lofty towers, and still occupied by the ex-queen, was quite interesting. We were permitted to examine its internal economy, and found by the library that her husband was a man of cultivation and taste, especially well read in the classics, and a good linguist. His bookcases showed several thousands of good and well-thumbed books in English, French, Latin, and Greek.
Here we saw a large gilded car of Juggernaut, the Indian idol, which makes its annual passage to and from the temple when the idol takes its yearly airing, and is drawn by thousands of worshipers, who have come from afar to assist at the strange and senseless festival. Pilgrims, delirious with fanaticism, do sometimes throw themselves under the ponderous wheels and perish there, but the stories current among writers upon the subject as to the large number of these victims are much exaggerated. This self-immolation, like that of the burning of widows upon their husband's funeral pyres, has latterly been suppressed. Between 1815 and 1826, fifteen thousand widows thus perished in India! We were told that in some native provinces the practice was even now secretly followed to some extent, but this is doubtful.
The grand pagoda of Tanjore has been rendered familiar to us by engravings and is truly remarkable, being esteemed the finest specimen in India of pagoda construction. It is fourteen stories high, and in the absence of figures we should say was over two hundred feet from the base to the top, and about eighty feet square at the ground. Among its other strange idols and emblems it contains, in the area before the main temple, in a demi-pagoda, the gigantic figure of a reclining bull, hewn from a single mammoth block of black granite, and supposed to be of great antiquity. It stands within an open space, raised some twelve feet above the surrounding court, upon a granite plinth of the same color, but how it could have been raised there intact is a marvel.