Travels in the Far East Part 2

A more extended view revealed "the river of rivers," on each bank of which appeared a green line of foliage; beyond this could be dimly seen cultivated fields with intersecting ca.n.a.ls, while tiny villages lent the human touch, and far away, Cairo, with her gleaming domes and minarets, became an appropriate background for the scene.

All the members of our party having previously visited the spot, we were spared the excitement of climbing the walls and entering the chambers, greatly to the disappointment of our guides, to whom the prospect of extra bakshish is always alluring. Our tour of observation consumed so much time that the usual programme of five o'clock tea at the Hotel Mene was abandoned. On our arrival in the city, the mantle of night had fallen,--a peaceful close to a never-to-be-forgotten day.

Another afternoon's excursion was made by carriage to the old villages of Matariya and Heliopolis. Near the former place is an ancient gnarled sycamore, under which, so tradition says, the Holy Family rested in their flight to Egypt. The present tree was planted in 1672, but the credulous still believe it to be a direct descendant of the original one. A fine spring which flows in the vicinity is also supposed to have lost its natural brackish taste on account of the infant Jesus having been bathed in it. A half-mile farther on is Heliopolis, the old City of the Sun. It is now marked by the solitary obelisk, which alone remains to remind us of a past that stretches untold centuries back of the Muslim conquest of Egypt in 640; and of a city that was the exponent of the most ancient civilization of the world.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _The obelisk marking the site of Heliopolis_]

The obelisk is the oldest Egyptian one known; it is of red granite, sixty-six feet in height, although it seems lower on account of the ma.s.s of debris at the base, and is inscribed with hieroglyphics. There remain a few granite blocks of the temple, designated the House of Ra, whose priests were so learned as to have attracted Plato when a student, to have drawn Herodotus into discussion, and to have laid the foundation of Moses' wisdom.

Heliopolis has been the scene of many stirring events, the victory of the Turks over the Mamelukes occurring there in 1517, while in 1800 General Kleber successfully led the French forces against the Turks. The memory of the active past serves to emphasize the present solitude of the place.

A favorite resort of the Cairo folk is the island of Gezireh; here a long avenue of lebbek trees furnishes a fashionable promenade, while games of golf, tennis, cricket, and polo, together with the races, are a constant source of attraction. The once famous palace of Gezireh (the scene of great festivities at the opening of the Suez Ca.n.a.l in 1869) is now turned into a popular hotel; its grounds slope down to the Nile, where dahabiyehs are sometimes anch.o.r.ed; an inspection of one of these, the _Bedouin_, excited our admiration.

The time of our stay was drawing to a close, and Cairo was again to become "memory" with a past stretching back into centuries without number. Egypt has a human history that is almost appalling to the thoughtful mind; this limitless stretch of time may, in part, explain the peculiar, indefinable charm that Cairo has upon the imagination of the beholder, thus winning for herself the appropriate name of the "Mysterious City of the Nile."

PORT SAD, _November 26th_: The return to Port Sad in the afternoon was followed by our departure on another P. & O. steamer, the _Arabia_, for Bombay, India.

One enters the Suez Ca.n.a.l with peculiar sensations, as it is a waterway of vast importance, connecting the Mediterranean and Red Seas, and so narrow that the sh.o.r.es on both sides are distinctly visible. It extends from Port Sad to Suez, and is nearly one hundred miles in length; it is artificial, with the exception of a channel through Bitter Lakes and Lake Tinsuh. All along the way, we were virtually traversing the desert, Isma'iliya presenting a small oasis, fifty miles from Port Sad. From the deck we watched the monotonous scene, hour after hour, the landscape being old and colorless, with great billows of sand in the foreground, and here and there occasional hillocks. Once we saw mountains of sand, called the Gebel Abu Batah range. Sometimes a few native huts would appear (the mere semblance of a village), then a stray camel or two, or a group of natives with their pigskins, intent on securing water. The Great Bitter Lake is a fine body of water, and it afforded us a temporary relief from the monotony of the Ca.n.a.l. There was a short stay at Suez, which has all the stir of a noisy modern port. We were now for a time in the Gulf of Suez, but saw nothing except a yellow beach and low outlying mountains; we longed for even a patch of gra.s.s, but, alas!

this was the season of drought, and vegetation was slumbering.

But if Nature was dull and lifeless, there was no lack of jollity on board the steamer; for the pa.s.sengers were mostly English, and there were constant games or other devices for "killing time," in which the English as a nation are so proficient.

We sailed out of the Gulf of Suez into the Red Sea, which afforded some variety of scene, as there were occasional islands, that of Perim being the most important and a possession of Great Britain. It stands prominently out of the sea in its length of two miles, and seems almost dest.i.tute of vegetation, although there was a little settlement close to the sh.o.r.e.

Thus far, contrary to all expectation, we had had comfortable weather; but Aden, a few hours later, gave us a heated welcome. This small city of Arabia is picturesquely situated on the Arabian Sea, high up on rocky cliffs; we had antic.i.p.ated a hurried survey of the city, but the heat was so excessive that only a few gentlemen ventured ash.o.r.e; however, we had a little diversion on the steamer in the interval, as numerous natives appeared with amber beads, ostrich feathers (which are a noted commodity of the place) and fans; this provoked the usual contest in bargains.

The evening brought us compensation for a day of heat, with its consequent languor, in the shape of a gorgeous sunset; a huge ball of fire hung in the west and radiated great streaks of red, yellow, and blue, these fading away into the softer tints, and then came the most wonderful afterglow, the heavens being suffused, and the whole scene making one breathless, as if under a spell.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _The Suez Ca.n.a.l near Port Sad_]

The Arabian Sea gave us an aftermath of heat, but, remembering with considerable satisfaction that the days of our transit were nearly over, we a.s.sumed an indifferent air.

BOMBAY, _December 6th_: On nearing India, with its far-away past, I was convinced that I would be first impressed with its Oriental aspect, but, on the contrary, the approach to Bombay presented a decidedly modern phase. There is a fine, almost semi-circular harbor, with a modern quay, and tall buildings encircling the sh.o.r.e, the tasteful Royal Bombay Yacht Club in the front, the s.p.a.cious new Taj Mahal Hotel to the left, having about a block of frontage on the bay, while farther back were other tall buildings. Dusky faces greeted us at the landing, and a Babel of voices in an unknown tongue, or rather tongues, since many tribes were represented, each with their separate dialect.

Arriving at the Taj Mahal, we felt a sense of strangeness, as the arrangement of rooms and the service were distinctly foreign. There were almost too many attendants or servants (two for each room, an upper and a lower one), and the waiters in the dining-room were more interesting to me than the menu,--the Portuguese wearing white uniforms with short jackets, pink vests, and black ties; the Mohammedans attired in long white tunics, with wide belts at the waist, loose trousers, and barefooted.

It was reserved for an afternoon drive through the crowded native quarter, however, to give us a striking impression of the India of the past. Every nook and corner of the narrow streets seemed a blaze of color--women in their full skirts of many shades of red (that color predominating), with diverse novel waist arrangements and a profusion of jewelry, bracelets, necklaces, earrings, and anklets. Men were in their many-hued turbans of various styles, with no clothing to the waist and a limited supply below. Then there were boys and small children,--the former with only a loin cloth, the latter as Nature made them, with silver chains bearing quite large hearts suspended around their waists, and with smaller chains around their necks, each supposed to ward off sudden calamity or disease.

But, if there was color in the dress, there was emaciation in the figure,--thin features, thin limbs, and flat chests being the prevailing type, a fair indication that their scanty supply of food does not furnish them sufficient nutrition. Northern India is the so-termed "famine district," and the famine of one year is said to have destroyed over four millions of people; pestilence is always threatening these natives, and besides, the demands for tribute of an enervated priesthood (who "toil not," alas! "neither do they spin") have to be met. So is it any wonder that poverty prevails and that sadness of countenance is everywhere seen?

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Aden, Arabia_]

The bazars are similar in arrangement to those in Cairo; but more novel wares are displayed, and less bargaining is resorted to. The European shops were satisfactory, and we invested at once in white felt topee hats lined with green, and also in ecru parasols similarly lined, for dire tales had been told us of the penalty we should suffer if we were not thus equipped, on account of the great power of the sun in midday; often the heat was known to bring on insanity (on the authority of a long-time resident of India). The wearing of that topee hat was a great personal sacrifice, as it was horribly unbecoming, and after some weeks of trial one of our party was brave enough to advise a second venture; a Calcutta style was tried, with no better results, so you can imagine the joy of the final "giving up"!

If the native quarters revealed to us an unknown life, so did a country drive, for there were trees and shrubs never before seen, and queer little thatched houses of the bungalow type. Groups of cocoanut and other palms were all lacking in freshness, as this was the dry season, and dust must prevail until the arrival of the "monsoon," or rainy season, in May. The domestic animals seemed to thrive, such as camels, donkeys, bullocks, and there were many birds, the little mina and the green paroquets being of special interest, while immense black crows hovered about everywhere.

The European aspect of Bombay is imposing, and the public and munic.i.p.al buildings are hardly to be surpa.s.sed, the railway station claiming the distinction, architecturally, of being the finest in the world. The dominant type of public building is designed in what is called Gothic Indian style.

The drive along Queen's Road is a dream of beauty. The private residences, each with fine grounds, are many and tasteful, those along Queen's Road being usually occupied by the military cla.s.s or by officials in the civil service. Malabar Hill is also a residential centre, and a drive there affords one an extended view of the city.

There also one may have a glimpse of the Arabian Sea, but a much better view is to be had from the grounds of the Towers of Silence, that strange exemplification of the faith of a peculiar people.

We had met a Pa.r.s.ee gentleman of culture and refinement on the steamer, _en route_ for Bombay, which fact made us eager to learn something of this sect. They came to India from Persia, twelve hundred years ago, driven away on account of Mohammedan persecution. They are strict followers of the tenets of Zoroaster, their creed, briefly epitomized, being "Good thoughts, good words, and good deeds." There are about one hundred thousand in Bombay; as a cla.s.s they are well educated, and have great business capacity; hence they are prominent in commercial affairs, particularly in banking. They are generous and charitable, and are at the head of most of the philanthropic inst.i.tutions of the city; many distinctions have been won by them from the English Government.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Victoria Station at Bombay_]

Their strange treatment of the dead shows what a strong hold custom and faith can have over a people; believing that fire is a symbol of Deity, and also revering the earth, neither cremation nor burial of the dead is permitted. The Towers of Silence, five of them occupying the most beautiful site on Malabar Hill, and surrounded by s.p.a.cious grounds with trees, shrubbery, and flowers, hold the Pa.r.s.ee dead.

These towers are of whitewashed stone, two hundred and seventy-five feet in circ.u.mference, and twenty-five feet in height; the upper floors are of iron grating, with three circles, whereon the corpses are placed; the inner circle is for children, the next for women, and the outer one for men. Thus placed, the vultures, which have been hovering about awaiting their prey, complete the work, and soon only the skeletons remain; these are thrown into a circular well in the centre of the enclosure, where they quickly turn to dust. This well has perforated holes in the bottom, so that the action of the rain can carry away the dust to still another receptacle, which in time reaches the sea. Previous to the ceremony, one hundred or more mourners, robed in white, may be seen walking up the hill, preceded by four men, carrying the bier on their shoulders. They pa.s.s into the house of prayer for a time, and then proceed to the Towers, where they are met by the only two men (of the outcast cla.s.s) who are ever permitted to enter, to whom the body is consigned for the final rite.

And yet, in spite of all this gruesomeness, the Pa.r.s.ees are a happy, social people, and their entertainments, particularly their weddings, are described as presenting a brilliant array of bejewelled women, tastefully dressed in the soft tinted silks they so much affect, with the long graceful veils falling to the feet. This is the only head covering worn in a carriage or on the street. The men, however, usually wear the conventional European dress, but on ceremonial occasions a white costume is required, with a small black hat.

Another sombre feature of Indian life is the prevalence of caste, which no foreigner can expect to understand, so complex is the system. There are four general cla.s.ses: the Brahman, or princely caste (this has four subdivisions); the military caste; the commercial caste; and the laboring caste, commonly called "coolies." These in their turn admit of many subdivisions, and when we realize that caste is hereditary and that whatever a man's ambition he can never rise above his station, even though he seek to secure promotion, we may understand what a yoke it imposes on the people.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Queen's Road at Bombay_]

Another bar is custom, which is quite as iron-clad as is caste; whenever any improvement is suggested, either in dress or in living, the suggestion is usually met with the reply that it is prevented by custom.

This applies particularly to the agricultural cla.s.s, among whom the crude ploughs and other out-of-date implements cannot be replaced by modern ones, as it has been the custom to use the former. Even the carrying of heavy burdens on the head cannot be given up; woe to any one who suggests subst.i.tuting the carrying of a basket! A laughable incident is told of a European gentleman who employed a number of men to carry sand; thinking to lighten their labor, he purchased wheelbarrows, but on visiting the scene of action a week later, he found the men with the barrows on their heads! No doubt, the reply to his protest was, "It is custom."

Another deplorable condition in India is found among women, particularly of the lower cla.s.ses, as they are considered of a more inferior order than the men of the family and are treated with little respect, being virtually slaves. The higher cla.s.s lead secluded lives, but do not escape the inflexible law that demands the marriage of a girl by the age of fourteen, or the ostracism thrust upon the child widow, who, on returning to a home of which she was once an honored member, finds herself virtually an outcast. Her pretty clothes are taken from her, and she is required to do the menial work of the family; this is the Indian protest against the abolishing of the suttee, or the burning of widows on the funeral pyre of their husbands,--cruelties prevented by English rule, as are also the practice of child suicide and the pa.s.sing of the Juggernaut car over the prostrate bodies of living victims.

These phases are not pleasant to contemplate, but are none the less necessary to know, if one is to form even a superficial idea of "conditions." It is gratifying to learn that still more reforms are advocated, and that there are to be more schools established, similar to the one originated by Ramabai, not far from Bombay, as a refuge for child widows. She received financial aid when in the United States a few years since. Mrs. Annie Besant has also established, at Benares, a school under Theosophical auspices, called Central Hindu College; this has for its object the combination of religious, moral, mental, and athletic instruction for Hindu youths.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Country scene in Bombay_]

The European residents of Bombay lead their own lives, and the social usages are quite the same as in England; the usual "sports" abound there, such as golf, tennis, and cricket, polo, and the races, while yachting has great prestige under the auspices of the aristocratic yacht club on Apollo Bunder.

The Victoria and Albert Museum has a fine building, but an unimportant collection; it stands in Victoria Gardens (a park of thirty-four acres, well laid out), and near the south entrance are the remains of the stone elephant which gave the island of Elephanta its name; the gardens are a popular resort. In another portion of the city is the best statue of Queen Victoria to be found in India.

An unusually fine market building is surmounted by a handsome clock-tower. There are large, well-equipped hospitals and a college, in addition to the number of buildings for public uses. One frequently sees gayly painted mosques and temples. Among the many ruins, those of Siva, called the Caves of Elephanta, are of most interest.

A steam launch was taken at the Apollo Bunder, and, after an hour and a half on the bay, we arrived at the island; the landing was not agreeable, and we were met with a chorus of voices from boys and men, crying "Memsahib" this and "Memsahib" that; some were beggars, others were intent on renting their "chairs" for the ascent of the hill.

The caves are excavations in the solid rock from fifteen to seventeen feet in height; originally there had been a plan, showing the arrangement of columns and colonnades, but the depredations of the followers of Mohammed in the past are everywhere to be seen. The entrance to one cave, however, is well preserved, as is also a group, almost life size, of Siva, Vishnu, and Brahma, called the Trinity. The caves are said to be the home of many deadly snakes, but none appeared, and a death-like stillness prevailed; once in the sunshine again, we met a snake charmer with a lively collection of what seemed to be cobras, but we declined to gaze upon them.

Further visits to the streets and bazars revealed new scenes, and such a variety of nationalities! As Sir Edwin Arnold has written: "Here are specimens of every race and nation of the East, Arabs from Muscat, Persians from the Gulf, Afghans from the northern frontier, black s.h.a.ggy negroes from Zanzibar, islanders from the Maldives and Laccadives; Malays and Chinese throng and jostle with Pa.r.s.ees in their sloping hats, with Jews, Lascars, Rajputs, Fakirs, European Sepoys, and Sahibs."

[Ill.u.s.tration: _A Tower of Silence_]

My vivid impression of Bombay is a memory of the June-like temperature (in December), the lovely drives, and the never-ending panorama of the water front as seen from my hotel windows, sometimes dazzlingly bright in the sunlight, and again subdued, as the soft opalescent tints of the twilight enveloped the landscape in a shadowy haze. Before me lay ocean steamers, merchantmen, a man of war, yachts, and many smaller vessels, with rowboats of diverse pattern; to the left was the pier, while the English flag floated from the attractive yacht club. It was, however, a typical Continental view, and not an Oriental one, so sharp an impress has England made on a city and island which were not acquired by conquest (it is pleasant to note), but as the marriage portion of Catharine of Braganza, of Portugal, when she became the bride of King Charles II of England. This transference was a fortunate thing for Bombay, all foreign residents and tourists agree, but native appreciation, if there is any, seems to slumber, as is the usual rule where colonization exists.

The equipment of a party leaving for a tour through India is important, for a poor guide or an indifferent travelling servant (also called bearer) would mar the pleasure. Bedding and towels for each member of the party must be looked after (mostly for night travel, as the hotels now usually prepare the beds), the guides must also be supplied, and one must be careful to have appropriate clothing for the journey. Your travelling servant is, according to custom, not expected to do any menial service (so considered), such as strapping your trunks, or removing your hand luggage from your room. This work is performed by so-called coolies; of course, a travelling servant may be so obliging as to offer to carry your handbag (as was often done by ours), but you must be duly appreciative of this show of favor.

JEYPORE, _December 10th_: On the morning of our departure from Bombay, we each found a fat, brown, English "hold-all," enclosing bedding, which was added to our luggage, the aggregate requiring much additional s.p.a.ce in our compartments. Our route to Jeypore lay through Ahmedabad, once a place of much importance, and still of interest on account of its artistic mosques. But the lack of hotel accommodations for a party deterred us from stopping over, and also prevented our visiting the celebrated Jain temples at Mount Abu, a ride of several miles to the mountains in a jinrikisha. I would, however, advise all tourists to take this trip, even at some personal discomfort, as the temples are said to be marvellously beautiful.