Due West: or, Round the World in Ten Months

Among these laborers three distinct nationalities were observable, marked by dress, physiognomy, and figure. They were people from Tibet, Nepal, and Cashmere, which border on this part of northern India, and are separated from it by the Himalayan Range. These mingled races formed picturesque groups, the men armed with long, sword-like knives and other weapons, after the fashion of their native lands. Some of the young women were quite pretty, though a little masculine and sturdy in figure, appearing very much like their sisters of Alpine Switzerland. At the noon hour, they gathered in groups near the doors of their shanties on the abrupt hill-sides; where, throwing themselves on the ground, they partook of their coarse, midday meal, quite in gypsy style, about a smoking iron pot, suspended over a fire by a tripod. They watched us curiously, for the passing cars formed the one daily event, connecting them with the far-away populous cities of the plains, places of which they only knew by report. Our train consisted of two cars only, a first and a second class; but the engine, built especially for this service, puffed and snorted like mad, with the wildest vigor, in its struggle to surmount the steep grade, seeming to be vastly refreshed by a few moments' rest at the frequent watering-places. These consisted of a wooden trough running out of the hill-side, and supplied by one of the thousand tiny brooks that burst out everywhere. At these the thirsty little engine drank copiously, and often; until finally, after many hours, we rounded a high projecting cliff, and in a moment after reached the little station of Darjeeling, which signifies "Up in the Clouds."

We arrived early in the afternoon, and fortunately on a clear day, so we anticipated having the rare pleasure of witnessing the sunset upon the loftiest range of snow-clad mountains on the globe. As we rounded the bluff already spoken of, there burst upon our sight, for a few moments, a complete view of the range, lying under a clear sky and warm glow of sunlight, so entrancing as almost to take away one's breath. The imagination had never before depicted anything so grand and inspiring. Our little party could only point at it, and look into each other's eyes. Words would have jarred like a discord upon the ear. What the Bernese Oberland range is to the Alps, this Kinchinjunga group is to the sky-reaching Himalayas. The former, however, are but pygmies compared with these giants at Darjeeling. One gazes in amazement at the peaks, and almost doubts that they belong to the earth upon which he stands. Visitors from a distance are often compelled to depart in disappointment after waiting for days to obtain a fair view of the range. We had reason for gratitude in having reached this elevated spot at so propitious a season.

We ascended the nearest hill soon after arriving at the hotel, and, looking across the intervening valley, could count twelve peaks, the lowest of which was over twenty thousand feet in height, and the highest over twenty-eight thousand, upon which rested eleven thousand feet of perpetual snow, – the snow line being distinctly marked from east to west, as far as the eye could reach. There can be no animal life in that Arctic region, no pulsations of vitality. Only the snow and ice rest there in endless sleep, cold, pitiless, and solemn. The sun was slowly declining in the west, faintly burnishing a few silvery, transparent clouds, while it touched the pearl-white tops of the Himalayas with ruby tints, and cast a glow of mingled gold and purple down the sides most exposed to its rays. Every hue of the rainbow seemed to hang over the range, through which gleamed the snowy robe in which the peaks and sides were clad. The top of Kinchinjunga, the loftiest of them all, towering three thousand feet above its fellows, as it radiated the glory of the sunset, made one hesitate whether it was indeed a mountain top or a fleecy cloud far up in the sky. As we watched with quickened pulse, the sunset glow, like a lingering kiss, hung over the grand, white-turbaned peaks for a moment, as though unwilling to say good night, and then it suddenly vanished. The cool, dewy shadows gathered on the brow of Kinchinjunga like parting tears, and night closed swiftly over the deep intervening valley, shutting out the loveliness of the vision, but leaving its impress glowingly fixed upon the memory forever.

The Himalayas – meaning in Sanskrit the Halls of Snow – form the northern boundary of India, and shut out the country from the rest of Asia. Tibet, which lies just over the range from whence we viewed it and the wild region between, is virtually impassable for travel; and yet bold parties of traders from time to time, wrapped in sheep-skins, force their way over the passes at an elevation of eighteen thousand feet. It is a hazardous thing to do, and the bones of worn-out mules mark the frozen way, telling of suffering and abandonment. The little Yak cow, whose bushy tail is manufactured into lace, has been found to be the best and most enduring animal to depend upon when such journey's are made. She will patiently toil up the steep gorges with a heavy load on her back, and will drop in her very tracks before she shows any stubbornness or want of courage. Sheep are also used at times to carry bags of borax to market near the plains, where they are shorn of their fleece, and return to the mountains laden with salt. The culminating point of the range, and the highest peak in the world, is Mount Everest, a little more than twenty-nine thousand feet above the level of the sea; but it is rarely visible from Darjeeling. In an unsuccessful attempt to ascend Kinchinjunga not long since, an English physician very nearly lost his life, and was obliged to submit to the partial amputation of his feet. He still resides in the neighborhood in government employment.

The sunset view, already spoken of, had fully repaid us for the four hundred miles journey due north. On the following morning we rose betimes to see the meeting between the god of day and those white-robed sentinels of time. We hardly dared to hope for a clear atmosphere. Only the stars, perhaps a little weary with night-watching, were visible now. A fine sunrise to follow so beautiful a sunset would be almost too good fortune. The air was sharp and frosty, but we cared naught for the cold, now at freezing-point, as we were between seven and eight thousand feet above the level of the plains. Our anticipations were sufficiently exhilarating to keep us warm. First came a delicate gray tinge in the leaden sky as the morning seemed to partially awake from its slumber, and gradually a fitful light beamed out of the east, as the stars grew paler and paler. Objects about us became more distinct, until presently the white peaks came into view one after another. Then the veil of night was slowly removed, as Aurora extinguished the last of those flickering lamps, and the soft amber light touched the brow of each peak, causing it to blush like a beautiful maiden aroused from sleep, at sight of one beloved. After the first salutation the rays became bolder, more ardent, and poured their depth of saffron hues all over the range, which now blushed and glowed like mountains of opals, flashing and burning in the glad, glorious sunlight. Dazzling to look upon, it grew yet stronger every moment, until the mountains and valleys were flooded in an atmosphere of azure and gold, and every outline was filled in by the clear, fresh light of the dawn, completing for us an experience never to be forgotten, the loveliness of which neither tongue nor pen can adequately express.

It was not without an effort that one could descend from such elevating and inspiring delights to more material things, but over the coffee local matters of interest were discussed with our host. It appears that Darjeeling is becoming the centre of a great tea-producing district, and that India bids fair to rival China in a product which has seemed, from time immemorial, to belong to the latter country exclusively. English capitalists are buying up the land wholesale; and their agents, employing skilled labor, have already extensive tea plantations in full process of profitable yielding, and sending tea annually to market. At first it seemed strange to us to see the tea-plant flourishing at such altitudes, covering large reaches of the mountain sides; but the fact came to mind that the latitude of Darjeeling is about that of Florida and the West Indies, which solved the apparent incongruity. As to the product of these tea-fields, one could realize no difference in its flavor from that of the Chinese leaf. We were told that it brought a higher price in the European markets, being known as Assam tea. Cinchona was also being raised in the district to a considerable extent, and it was believed was specially adapted to the locality.

We ascended a high hill overlooking the valley and town of Darjeeling, and found upon its crest a sacred stone, where Buddhists had lately sacrificed some object which left the stains of blood, and where incense had recently been burned. It was in a primitive temple constructed of stones and stunted trees, surrounded by growing bushes. The neighboring branches of the trees were decked here and there with bits of red and blue cloth, which the guide explained as being Buddhist prayers. On some bits of paper adhering to the stones there were written characters which we could not understand, but which doubtless were invocations addressed to a superior power. From this elevation we enjoyed extensive and still different views of the Himalayas, and their diadems of frosted silver flaked with gold, while close at hand were seen the hundreds of thrifty tea plantations decking the sloping hill-sides. There are no roads at these extreme heights; it is all climbing to reach them, and the path so narrow that visitors advance only in single file.

Darjeeling is what is called in India a sanitarium; that is, a resort for Europeans from the plains during that portion of the year when it is too hot to reside in the cities. There is a fixed population of over three thousand. The viceroy's summer quarters are elegant and spacious, and there are churches, schools, and a club-room, with hospitals and barracks for army invalids. We saw groups of natives from the neighboring countries, lingering about the depot, quite willing to trade, and offering us their praying machines for filthy lucre. Some of these machines were of finely wrought silver and were expensive. In the centre of the town there is an open space devoted daily to an out-door bazar, where the itinerant traders spread a mat upon the ground and cover it with the articles which they wish to dispose of, seating themselves cross-legged on the ground by the side of their wares. Here we saw displayed copper coins from the neighboring countries, sweetmeats, fruit, beans, rice, betel-nuts, candles, baskets, and toys, besides heaps of various grains. Near the hotel there was an insignificant temple, at the entrance of which a hideous old woman was turning a big cylinder with a crank; a church praying machine. She seemed to have taken a contract to pray for the whole district, she worked so vigorously.

Some of the people in and about the neighborhood are of singular interest. One tribe was pointed out as belonging to the Sikkim race, known as Lepchas, who believe in spirits good and bad, but celebrate no religious rites. There were specimens of the Limboos, who are Buddhists, and whose out-door temple on the hill-top we had chanced upon. Again there were people known as Moormis, of large stature and originally from Tibet. The Nepal and Cashmere people were, small in size, compared to Europeans, but of hardy frames and stout limbs. These latter are very industrious and thrifty. There was some building of stone houses going on at Darjeeling, and some road making in the town; and it was observed that all carrying of stone, mortar, or other material, was performed by Cashmere or Nepal girls and women, who carry baskets of stone on their backs heavy enough to stagger an average American laborer. But these women, under such harsh usage, must become prematurely old.

After considerable hill climbing and exploration of the vicinity we started on our return to Calcutta, and having become acquainted with the grandeur of the scenery as a whole, were better prepared for closer observation in detail. It was all the way down hill now, and our spirited little engine, like a horse under similar circumstances, had more use for the breeching than the traces. However, the speed was a very lively one, and to the uninitiated appeared almost reckless. The pure white magnolia was found to be abundant on the mountain, blooming profusely at over seven thousand feet above the plains. Amid many other flowering trees, unknown to us, the magnolia was most prominent. The wild and abundant growth of the rhododendrons, which here become a forest tree, mingled with a handsome species of cedar, which rose in dark and stately groups, was a marked feature of the woods. The general luxuriance of the vegetation was conspicuous, thickly clothing the branches of the trees with mosses, ferns, and flowering creepers or orchids. Here we saw for the first time the cotton-tree, with red blossom, and which yields a coarse material for native use. A species of lotus was seen, called here "The Queen of the Forest." It belongs to the magnolia family, and the leaves are used by the common people in place of tea. Many bright and exquisitely delicate ferns sprang up among the undergrowth and about the watering stations. Brilliant little butterflies floated in the sunshine everywhere, and contrasted with the repulsive whip-snakes hanging here and there from the branches of the trees. Vegetable and animal life seemed singularly abundant in these hills, so far above the plains of Hindostan towards which we were hastening.

The language of the masses is rather mixed, being composed of Bengali, Hindi, and Nepalese, though English is almost universally understood, even by the humbler classes. We found a very comfortable hotel at Darjeeling, but discovered that the Hindoo milkman knows the trick of judiciously watering his merchandise. The fruits upon the table were bananas, pine-apples, guavas, and oranges. Wild animals are abundant in the hills, including the much-dreaded tiger, which does not confine his operations to the plains. At one of the stations on the mountain railroad, where we stopped for refreshments, a story of the most tragic character was told us of two children carried off and eaten by tigers the previous night. The demoralized condition of one of the poor families bore witness to the truth of the report. We listened to the very harrowing detail of the event, but will not weary the reader with it. The half-howl, half-bark of the jackals at night frequently awoke us. They carry off young kids in these regions, and do not hesitate to attack small dogs, but keep a wholesome distance from human beings.

One day and night upon the route – there are no sleeping-cars, so we did without them – brought us back to Calcutta, extremely gratified with our excursion to the Himalayas, and more than ever impressed with the distinctive character of each new locality. There are no two rivers alike, no two mountain ranges precisely similar, no two races of people that quite resemble each other. There is always some marked distinction to fix the new experience on the mind. Were this not the case, confusion would be the natural result of ten months of such varied travel as these notes are designed to record.

CHAPTER VII

From Calcutta to Benares. – Miles of Poppy Fields. – Ruined Temples. – The Mecca of Hindostan. – Banks of the Sacred Ganges. – Idolatry at its Height. – Monkey Temple. – The Famous River Front of the Holy City. – Fanaticism. – Cremating the Dead. – A Pestilential City. – Visit to a Native Palace. – From Benares to Cawnpore. – A Beautiful Statue. – English Rule in India. – Delhi. – The Mogul Dynasty. – Lahore. – Umritsar. – Agra. – The Taj Mahal. – Royal Palace and Fort. – The Famous Pearl Mosque.

Calcutta is not a city calculated to detain the traveler more than four days, so we promptly got our baggage together to start for the next objective point, which was Benares, the holy city of the Hindoos, to reach which five hundred miles of central India must be traversed by rail. The route, however, lay through an extremely interesting region of country, where, notwithstanding it was still January, everything was green, and both planting and harvesting were in progress. The people appeared to be wretchedly poor, living in the most primitive mud cabins thatched with straw. Such squalor and poverty could be found nowhere else outside of Ireland, and yet we were passing through a famous agricultural district, which ought to support thrifty farm-houses and smiling villages. It abounded in rice, wheat, sugar-cane, and vast poppy fields, – treacherously beautiful, – from which the opium of commerce is derived. The presence of such abundance made the contrast in the condition of the peasantry all the more puzzling.

This part of India has ever been noted for the excellence and prolific yield of its sugar crops. From here, also, indigo and saltpetre are exported in large quantities. No tea-gardens were seen, – these were left behind in the hills, – nor had we met with coffee plantations since leaving Ceylon. All along the route we saw fruit trees in considerable variety, of such as are indigenous to central India; among these were recognized the lofty and handsome tamarinds, almonds, mangoes, oranges, and limes, interspersed with which was the graceful palm, laden with cocoanuts, and other products of the palm family. Temples centuries in age and in utter ruin came into view now and again, as they had done in the south, between Tuticorin and Madras, and here, as there, they were frequently adjacent to a cluster of low mud hovels. From the branches of the trees flitted birds of such fantastic shapes and plumage as to cause exclamations of surprise. Occasional specimens of the bird of paradise were seen, with its long and graceful tail-feathers glistening in the sun, presenting an array of bright colors never seen in confinement. The tall flamingos, in their bridal plumage, just touched with scarlet on either wing, like soldiers' epaulets, floated along the shores of the numerous ponds, scarcely clearing the ground, or they stood lazily by the bank upon one awkward leg. Parrots glanced across the vision in the bright noontide, in carnival costume; and buff-colored doves, with white rings about their necks, coquetted lovingly in couples. Of song birds there were but few, though the clear notes of the little Indian thrush now and then fell pleasantly on the ear.

As we progressed on our way, we picked up here and there, at various stations, third class passengers in considerable numbers, consisting oftentimes of whole families, in singular variety of dress, "undress," and rags, bound for Benares. They were packed in the rude cars devoted to that class, like cattle, and there they slept and ate upon the rough pine boarding. The roads of India carry these devout people at a most trifling charge, aggregating but about a half penny per mile. And yet we were told that it paid the companies very well, besides making good friends of the natives, who were originally opposed to the laying of railroad tracks; indeed, so bitter and superstitious were they, that for a long time it was necessary to guard the track by a military force, especially in these very districts of central India. It was amusing to watch the expression upon the countenances of some of these pilgrims, who stood on the platform of the depot, watching the hissing steam as it came from the engine. In their intense ignorance and superstition they believe that it contains a "fire-devil," and that it is bribed to do the required work of transportation by frequent drinks of water at the various stations! It was difficult for the more intelligent to suppress their prejudices against the introduction of the railroad into India when it was first begun; but the ignorant, superstitious masses are still believers in the supernatural character of the iron horse. No amount of explanation can disabuse their minds of the impression; they only shake their heads; but getting into the third class compartments avail themselves of the facilities all the same, even when bent, as they all are who travel, upon some devout pilgrimage.

Benares, the first large city on the united Ganges and Jumna, may be called the citadel of Hindooism, containing about one hundred and fifty thousand fixed inhabitants, and nearly as many more of floating population, composed of pilgrims, constantly coming and going. What Jerusalem is to the Jew, Rome to the Latin, Mecca to the Mohammedan, Benares is to the Hindoo. It is supposed by many to be the oldest known habitation of man in the world. Twenty-five centuries ago when Rome was unknown and Athens was in its youth, Benares was already famous. It is supported by the influx of rich and poor pilgrims from all parts of the country, whose presence gives its local trade an impetus, at certain seasons of great amount, and more or less at all times. The city is situated on the left bank of the sacred Ganges, to bathe in which insures to the devout Hindoo forgiveness of all sins, and an easy passport to the regions of the blessed. In entering the ancient capital we crossed the Ganges on a bridge of boats very similar to that at Cologne on the Rhine. As we drove through the streets troops of pilgrims, pitiable to behold, foot-sore and weary, were met coming from the Punjab a thousand miles away, simply to bow down before the local idols and to dip their bodies in the holy river. Faith must be very vigorous in these uneducated creatures to induce such sacrifice to fulfill its requirements; like superstition elsewhere, it is ever strongest in the ignorant.

These pilgrims are not all beggars or in rags. Now and then a gaudily dressed rajah may be seen, with a long line of attendants, wending his steps towards the river's front. Infirm old men and little children, crazy looking fakirs and comely youths, boys and girls, people of all ages and both sexes, were represented in the motley groups who went for moral purification to these muddy waters. There is a singular mingling of races also, for these people do not by any means speak one tongue. They are from the extreme north and the extreme south of India, while the half-starved vagrants of central India could not make themselves understood by either. A common purpose moves them, but they cannot express themselves in a common language. Pilgrims are here from Tibet and Cashmere, the far-off Himalayan country as well as from Tuticorin on the Indian Ocean. Numberless idols and symbols of the most vulgar and loathsome character abound all over the town, and along the river's front, before which men and women bow down in silent devotion. Idolatry is but the synonym of impurity, and is here seen in its most repulsive form. The delusion, however, is perfect, and these poor creatures are, beyond a doubt, terribly in earnest.

The people grovel in this idolatrous spirit, animals forming the principal subjects of worship, – such as bulls, snakes, monkeys, and pigeons. One of the peculiar temples of the city is devoted solely to the worship of monkeys, where hundreds of these mischievous animals find a luxurious home, no one ever interfering with their whims, except to feed and to pet them. This temple contains a singular altar, before which devotional rites are performed by believing visitors, who also bring food offerings for the monkeys. One of the animals during our visit was misbehaving himself, considering that he was a veritable god: rolling, tossing about, and holding on to his stomach with both paws, while he cast his eyes in an agonized manner upwards, and howled dolefully. In plain English his godship had eaten too many bon-bons and sweetmeats, and was paying the penalty from which even sacred monkeys are not exempt. Another, evidently the mother of twins, ran about with one under each arm, now and then stopping at convenient places to nurse them after a fashion ludicrously human. Adjoining the temple is a large water tank in which the monkeys are fond of bathing, their pranks in the water affording much amusement.

It is difficult to realize the mental degradation of a people controlled by a frame of mind leading them to worship these creatures; and it is equally ludicrous to recall the fact, in this connection, that the Japanese eat them. The hollow trunk of a venerable tamarind-tree was shown where all the baby monkeys are born. About the doors of this temple sat women with baskets of yellow marigold blossoms, to sell to native visitors for decorating purposes at the altar. Great use is made of this flower, which seems to be raised in large quantities for this object. Once or twice we saw these women sell a handful for a halfpenny; but it must be a sorry trade whereby to earn a living. Pigeons swarm in and about Benares enjoying a superstitious veneration and protection; while sacred bulls obstruct the passages, and the narrow, nauseous, over-crowded streets, rendering them too filthy for foot passage. Everything appears to be in a state of chronic decay; and as the city flourished twelve hundred years before Christ, – indeed may be said to have been at the zenith of its glory at that period, – it is not surprising that it should be in a tumble-down condition in our day. This very dilapidation, however, renders the river front one of the most picturesque sights imaginable. Being a British possession, there is a European quarter of the town, quite modern in aspect, ornamented with large and fine public structures, churches, post-office, and government buildings, besides some charming private residences or bungalows. But the native portion, always crowded with sacred animals, beggars, curs, and filth of every sort, seemed a very hot-bed for pestilence. In most of the native huts the light of the sun can never penetrate, and compared to them underground dungeons would be desirable residences. Our local guide told us there were over two thousand public temples and shrines in Benares, and he might have added in every stage of dirt, decomposition, and ruin. The sights to be witnessed in them were most repulsive, and yet there were some sincere votaries there. There were rogues also, a fact proven by the circumstance that the guide, native and resident here, had his pocket picked before the altar while explaining matters to our party.

As a fine characteristic view of the city is to be obtained from the river front, a boat was taken, with half a dozen oarsmen, to pull along the ghats, or flights of broad stone steps, descending to the river from the shattered old palaces, prostrate temples, and half-sunken quays, which extend in a continuous line for more than two miles along the Ganges. Here hundreds, nay thousands of people of both sexes and of all conditions, are to be seen at any hour of the day dipping and washing in the sacred waters; which ceremony to them is tangible prayer. Here was a small group gathered about a delicate invalid, who lay upon a litter, brought to the spot that she might be bathed in these waters, which it was hoped would make her whole. Here still another collection surrounded the fading and flickering lamp of life that burned dimly in the breast of age, come to die by the healing river. And close at hand, beneath that sheet, was the cold clay of one already departed, now to be consumed upon the funeral pyre and his ashes cast into the Ganges. What a picture of life and death, what a practical comment upon poor humanity! On these ghats the Hindoos pass their happiest hours, notwithstanding these sad episodes; coming from the confined, dirty, unwholesome streets in which they sleep and eat, to pray and bathe, as well as to breathe the fresh air and to bask in the sun. The hideous fakirs make their fixed lodging-places here, living entirely in the open air, in all their revolting personal deformity, diseased and filthy. Their distorted limbs fixed in every conceivable attitude of penance, their faces besmeared with white clay, and their long hair matted and clotted with dirt. There are pious fools enough to kneel before them, and to give them food and money, by which they are supported in their crazy self-immolation.

It was observed that some of the women took into the river with them short garlands of yellow and white flowers, which they seemed to count over like a Roman Catholic kneeling with her beads, and finally to break them in pieces and cast them upon the surface of the river, watching them borne away upon the tide. Each one was provided also with a small brass jar in which to carry away a portion of the sacred water, after having completed their baths, and washed their clothes therein. The people have no hesitation in drinking this water in which so many have bathed, nor in carrying it home for cooking purposes. Yet they must have, like ourselves, seen the ashes of the cremated corpses cast into it, and have observed the frequent dead bodies floating therein. One would think a single glance at the yellow, filthy hue of the water would be sufficient to debar its use; but the very name of the Ganges sanctifies everything with these mentally blind creatures. Sometimes, though this is not a frequent occurrence, a crocodile takes away a bather; but such persons are rather envied than regretted, since to die in those waters is in their estimation simply to be at once wafted to the elysian fields of paradise.

All this fanaticism, mad zeal, and credulous idolatry could not alone sustain and support a city like Benares, though it attracts millions of pilgrims annually. There must be some reasonable nucleus to form about, some occupation and industry with the semblance of common sense, something besides priestly art and cunning. Therefore, looking about us we find in her bazars the skilled product of real artisans, in the form of brass ware of such admirable finish as to monopolize the markets of the world in this line. And again, there is produced in her dark alleys and dirty lanes an article of silver gilt embroidery of unequaled excellence. Specimens of these remarkable local products are sure to be brought away by appreciative travelers, while the local demand from rich natives is very large in the aggregate. So there are many homes in this strange, idolatrous, dirty, Indian Mecca, which are supported, after all, by legitimate industry.