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Title: Travels in the Far East
Author: Ellen Mary Hayes Peck
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TRAVELS IN THE FAR EAST
[Illustration: _The Pyramids from the Nile, Cairo_]
TRAVELS IN THE FAR EAST
by
ELLEN M. H. PECK
(Mrs. James Sidney Peck)
New York
Thomas Y. Crowell & Co.
Publishers
Copyright 1909
By Ellen M. H. Peck
The University Press, Cambridge, U.S.A.
OZYMANDIAS
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings;
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
--PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY
TO MY DAUGHTER
FOREWORD
As the inspiration which caused the making of this "Tour" came from my
daughter (the "you" of my story), and as she wished a record of the same
published, my desire has been to give her as complete an idea of my
journeyings as is possible by descriptive text and illustrations. The
interest of friends in the plan has caused them to be included in my
thought, and if the public desire to be added to the personal
acquaintances whom I regard as my readers it will prove a pleasant
recognition of a modest plan.
The nine months tour included Egypt, Northern India, Burma, Southern
India, Ceylon, Malay Peninsula, Java, Siam, Southern China, Japan,
Northern China, Manchuria, and Korea.
Realizing that impressions suddenly formed are not always to be trusted,
an attempt has been made to have them tested by comparison with those
formed by a longer residence.
In like manner only statements have been made on the authority of those
who claimed to have knowledge and experience. The lack of guidance of
either a Baedeker or a Murray has been felt in Java, Siam, China,
Manchuria, and Korea, small local guide books and guides not being an
equivalent as regards accurate testimony.
May these pages prove a pleasant reminiscence to those who have visited
the scenes described, and an introduction to those who have not thus
travelled, but some of whom may plan to "do likewise."
E.M.H.P.
MILWAUKEE, December, 1908
CONTENTS
PAGE
MILWAUKEE 1
CHICAGO 1
NEW YORK 1
THE AZORES 4
GIBRALTAR 4
MARSEILLES 5
PORT SAÏD 7
CAIRO 9
SUEZ CANAL 34
ADEN, ARABIA 36
BOMBAY 37
JEYPORE 48
DELHI 56
AGRA 67
FATEHPUR-SIKRI 76
CAWNPORE 79
LUCKNOW 80
BENARES 82
SILIGURI 88
DARJEELING 89
CALCUTTA 93
BURMA 97
PROME 109
RANGOON 109
SHWE DAGON 111
MADRAS 116
TANJORE 118
TRICHINOPOLY 120
MADURA 122
TUTICORIN 124
COLOMBO 124
NUWARA ELIYA 127
KANDY 129
ANURADHAPURA 132
CEYLON 141
BATAVIA, JAVA 145
BUITENZORG 147
GAROET 150
DJOKJAKARTA 154
MAOS 166
BANGKOK 174
SINGAPORE 201
JOHORE 201
HONG-KONG 204
CANTON 209
MACAO 216
SHANGHAI 225
NAGASAKI 229
KOBE 231
ONOMICHI 232
OSAKA 233
KYOTO 234
NARA 246
YAMADA 248
NAGOYA 250
YOKOHAMA 251
NIKKO 252
TOKIO 260
A VISIT TO NORTH CHINA 264
PEKING 273
TIENTSIN 301
SHANHAIKWAN 302
MUKDEN 305
NIUCHWANG 309
DALNY 310
PORT ARTHUR 310
CHEMULPO, SEOUL 317
TOWARD YOKOHAMA 326
HOMEWARD BOUND 345
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
The Pyramids from the Nile, Cairo _Frontispiece_
Meshrebeeyeah windows 6
A bridge spanning the Nile at Cairo 11
The peculiar head-dress of the Cairo women 13
The Mosque of Amr 17
The interior of the Tomb Mosque of Kalaûn 20
Fountain in the Mosque of Sultan Hasan 24
Openwork dagobas 26
Citadel and Mosque of Mahomet Ali 28
The obelisk marking the site of Heliopolis 33
The Suez Canal near Port Saïd 36
Aden, Arabia 39
Victoria Station at Bombay 41
Queen's Road at Bombay 43
Country scene in Bombay 44
A Tower of Silence 46
Entrance to one of the Caves of Elephanta 48
Street scene in Jeypore 51
A Hindu woman of Jeypore 53
Interior view of Amber Palace 55
General view of Amber Palace and fort near Jeypore 57
A gateway built during the seventeenth century in Delhi 59
The Pearl Mosque at Delhi 59
The Hall of Private Audience in the Palace, Delhi 61
Jumma Musjid, Delhi 61
The tomb of Emperor Humayun 64
Northern colonnade of the Islam mosque, showing ruined arch 66
Kutub Minar, the Tower of Victory in Old Delhi 68
Gateway leading to Taj Mahal 70
Taj Mahal 70
Screen in Taj Mahal 70
Shah Jahan and his wife in whose memory the Taj was built 70
Agra Palace and part of wall and gateway to the fort 73
An Octagon Tower of the Agra Palace 73
The Pearl Mosque 74
Akbar's tomb in Sikandra 74
General view of Fatehpur-Sikri 77
A column in the Audience Hall (Diwan-i-Khas) 78
Jasmine Tower and distant view of the Taj 81
The ghat at Cawnpore 81
The Residency at Lucknow 82
Bathing ghat, Benares 84
Burning ghat, Benares, where cremations occur 84
The Tope of Sarnath and the Jain Temple near Benares 86
A view of Darjeeling and the Kanchanjanga Range 89
A Nepaulese group 91
The Government House in Calcutta 94
An avenue of palms in the Botanical Gardens 96
Fort Dufferin and the moat, Mandalay 98
Mandalay palace and its tower, called The Centre of the Universe 98
The Arakan Pagoda 100
One of the four gateways to the 450 Pagodas 100
The Queen's Golden Monastery 103
Karen women in Mandalay 103
Burmese country house near Mandalay 104
A national dance at Mandalay 107
On the Irrawaddy River, near Sagoing 109
General view of Rangoon 111
Shwe Dagon Pagoda at Rangoon 112
Entrance gateway, Shwe Dagon Pagoda 112
Chapels on platform around Shwe Dagon, Rangoon 112
Elephants carrying logs at Rangoon 115
The Gilded Sule as seen from Hytche Square 115
General view of Madras 117
The Great Subrahmanya Temple at Tanjore 119
Fort Rock, Trichinopoly 121
The Golden Lily Tank, Madura 123
Entrance to the Madura Temple 123
Street Scene in Colombo 124
General view of Nuwara Eliya 129
General view of Kandy 131
Entrance to the Botanical Gardens, Kandy 132
Temple of the Sacred Tooth in Kandy 132
Ruins of Anuradhapura 135
Near the Sacred Road, Thuparama Dagoba 136
The Moonstone Steps 139
Mihitale Steps 141
Street scene in Kandy, Ceylon 143
The canal in the old city of Batavia 144
Batavia, Java 147
View of Mt. Salak from the Hotel Belle Vue 149
A village scene in Garoet, Java 151
The crater of Papandajang 153
The ruined temple of Prambanam 155
Bas-reliefs in the Siva Temple, Prambanam 155
The stairs leading to a Prambanam temple 155
The Three Graces in the Lara Jongram Temple, Java 157
The old temple at Mendoet 159
Boro Boedor, in Java 162
Stairway of Boro Boedor, Java 162
Boro Boedor, Java, showing one part of the gallery 162
A public square in Djokjakarta, Java 165
Designing sarongs in Batavia 167
Landscape near Batavia 169
Javanese vegetable sellers 170
A Javanese dignitary and his attendants 172
The King of Siam 175
In the Royal Palace of Wang Chang, Bangkok 180
Entrance to Prakeo, the Royal Temple 182
The Klong Canal at Bangkok 185
The famous Elephants' Kraal 189
Tower of Royal Palace at Ban-Pa-In 190
A Siamese girl 193
A royal barge at Bangkok 194
The collier quay at Singapore 201
The Sultan's Palace at Johore 202
A general view of Hong-Kong 205
The public gardens in Hong-Kong 205
A typical street in a Chinese city 207
A five-story pagoda 211
Temple of the Five Genii at Canton 212
The San Paulo Façade 215
The bund at Macao, called Praia Grande 216
The bund at Shanghai 224
Mogi Road at Nagasaki 228
The main street in Kobe 231
The fort and castle at Osaka 232
The rapids near Kyoto 235
Bamboo Avenue in Kyoto 235
The Golden Pavilion 237
The largest pine tree in the world at Lake Biwa 238
Kasuga Temple 243
The Temple of Ise (Yamada) 249
Nagoya Castle 250
The way to the Temple, Ieyasu 254
Kokamon: Iemitzu Temple 254
A five-story pagoda 257
The gate called Yomei-mon 259
The Imperial Palace at Tokio 261
Court of the Temple Shiba at Tokio 263
Gate of Chionin in Kyoto 264
Ueno Park pagoda 264
The Little Orphan Rock in the Yangtse River 268
Road to Kaling above Kia-Kiang 270
The Hankow bund 272
The Great Wall at Peking 274
Hata-men Gate 277
Peking girls 278
Llama Temple 278
A Peking cart 281
The Confucius Temple 281
Temple of Classics 281
The Inner Temple of Heaven 282
Outer Heaven, Temple of Heaven, Peking 285
The White Pagoda of the Yellow Temple 286
The Winter Palace of the Forbidden City 289
View from the Forbidden City 288
Marble Terrace of the Summer Palace 291
Marble Bridge of the Summer Palace 291
Nankow Pass 292
A tower of the Great Wall 295
Five Arch: First pailow of the Ming Tomb 295
Emperor Yunglo's tomb 297
Emperor Kwangsu of China 298
The Dowager Empress of China 300
Gordon Hall at Tientsin 303
Old gateway of Tientsin 303
The Temple at Mukden 306
Dalny 310
Port Arthur before the siege 313
Tiger-Tail Promontory and Port Arthur during the conflict 315
203-Metre Hill, Port Arthur--The last point to be taken 317
The city wall and gate of Seoul 319
A group of Koreans 320
An old tomb of a high official 323
A white marble pagoda in Seoul 324
Street scene in Seoul 326
Torii Miyajima 328
Stone lanterns, Miyajima 330
Islands of the Inland Sea 332
Mississippi Bay 335
View of Miyanoshita 336
Theatre Street in Yokohama 340
Mountains around Hakona 343
Mount Pali, Honolulu 344
TRAVELS IN THE FAR EAST
Milwaukee, _October 27th_, 1907: The adieux have been said, the friends
have departed, and the train is moving slowly out of the station; a
profusion of flowers, tempting new books, and other gifts are visible
proofs of the thoughtfulness of friends on the eve of a long journey in
untried fields, and it seems as if I had lost my moorings and was
drifting out on an unknown way.
* * * * *
CHICAGO is reached, and after a hurried transfer of trains I am speeding
on to my objective point, New York. An interval of two days and there is
a hurried departure for the pier and "the die is cast."
There is always a sense of exhilaration on the sailing of a steamer from
New York, despite the sadness of the leave-taking; and the receipt of
many gifts, telegrams, and letters keeps up the excitement until after
the departure of the pilot. But as the shore line recedes and we drift
out to sea, there comes a realization of an entire change of environment
and of the rending of former interests, which is, of itself, a fine
preparation for the mental equipment necessary to assimilate the new
scenes to be visited.
The November Second party of Collver Tours "Round the World," sailing on
the _Friedrich der Grosse_, North German Lloyd line, was to embrace ten
individuals, aside from an accomplished Director, each to be independent
of the other, but all supposed to fit into a harmonious whole. After the
formal presentations were over, there came a sense of relief, for
refined manners, culture, and the experience of much travel were
apparent, and promised well for the months of companionship which were
to ensue.
The localities represented by the several members in the party were as
follows: Boston, three; Philadelphia, four; New York, one; Lafayette,
Indiana, one; Ottawa, Illinois, one; and Milwaukee, Wisconsin, one. This
is an indication of varied personality and diversified taste.
The elements did not prove propitious in the days that followed our
departure, and we were forced to bear the stress of wind and storm with
becoming resignation, feeling personally thankful for indemnity from
fatal results. Such a voyage does not lend itself to much diversion or
variety of interests, but there were the usual attempts at gayety in the
line of dancing, music, and the exhilarating "Captain's dinner"; hence
with congenial people the days were pleasantly whiled away. Among the
fellow passengers were some former friends, but I will mention only
those who in a sense belong to the public.
There was Mr. Edward P. Allis with his family; he was formerly of
Milwaukee, but for many years has been a resident of Mentone, France,
where he has continued his researches along biological lines, and where
he has also superintended the publication of a valuable magazine
relating to his special subject. I am happy to state that he has
received, in consequence, distinguished recognition from the French
Government, even the decoration of the Legion of Honor. He is also the
recipient of orders from other foreign governments, and the Wisconsin
University has conferred a high degree upon him.
Another friend was Dr. Baldwin, of Rome, Italy, who has an international
reputation as a specialist on diseases of the heart.
A new acquaintance was Mr. Theodore M. Davis, of Newport, Rhode Island,
who from November to April, on his finely appointed dahabiyeh, makes the
Nile his home, at Luxor. For some years he has superintended valuable
excavations in the Tombs of the Kings at Thebes, defraying the expense
of the work himself. He holds the only concession granted by the
Egyptian Government, on condition that the result of his discoveries
become the property of the State; these so-termed "finds" are very
valuable, and a special room has been devoted to them in the Museum of
Gizeh at Cairo.
Our arrival at the Azores was the first excitement of the voyage, and I
had expected to renew the pleasant associations of the day we passed
together on San Miguel, at the picturesque city of Ponta Delgada. But,
alas! we sailed on and there was only a memory; by the subtle power of
association another memory haunted me also, that of Funchal, Madeira,
with its balmy air and luxuriant vegetation.
* * * * *
GIBRALTAR: The world-renowned fortress of Gibraltar was reached after
some hours' delay, and we were welcomed by sunshine and a June-like
temperature.
The attractions there are not numerous, but they are unique;
unfortunately, a visit to the fortified galleries is now denied to
visitors, but a beautiful drive to Europa Point and to the neutral
ground, together with a walk through the park called the Alameda, is a
fair compensation. The shops which line the narrow streets possess an
Oriental aspect, and the general view of the massive fortifications
afforded much interest to those who had not made a previous visit. But
the picturesqueness of former visits--the motley crowd of Moors, Arabs,
Spaniards, and Turks at the wharf--was lacking; while the venders of
fruit, flowers, and laces were far less numerous, but quite as
persistent, as of old.
* * * * *
_November 12th_: The steamer _Magnolia_, of the P. & O. line, became our
home to Port Saïd, named for the Viceroy of Egypt, who granted the
concession for the building of the Suez Canal. We were at once charmed
with the general arrangement of the vessel, the salons for ordinary use
being large and airy; the staterooms were smaller than those of the
Atlantic service, but were finely ventilated.
The passage to Marseilles, France, consumed about thirty-six hours, and
the time was spent partly in planning a sight-seeing expedition to take
place immediately after our arrival. The Gulf of Lyons, however, gave us
a stormy reception; and, as the gale (mistral) increased, the harbor was
reached. To be near a destination and yet unable to enter the port was
most tantalizing!
* * * * *
MARSEILLES: The approach to Marseilles is rather disappointing, as there
are intervening islands of bare rocks; but later the heights appear, the
Church of Notre Dame de la Garde being a prominent feature of the view.
Owing to the delay in landing, only two hours' stay on shore was
granted, which was a great disappointment to many of us, but less so to
me, as I had previously visited the city, and remembered the enjoyment
derived from my stay there.
On our return to the steamer, a novel sight presented itself. The vessel
was anchored close to the dock on which is a low embarkation shed,
fronting on a wide passage-way, which was now filled with a motley
group. At the back there was a fringe of color from many baskets of
fruit, flowers, and plants in charge of dealers, clad in costumes of
varied hues, with red shawls tied over their heads. Each hawker was
intent on extracting coins from the interested spectators, who hung over
the side of the steamer. In the foreground were acrobats of every
description, dressed in all the colors of the rainbow; among them was a
group of five musicians of tender years, an acrobat in pink tights who
was exploiting the skill of his little daughter, scarcely five years of
age, and another similarly cruel father, who was compelling a little
girl to go through all manner of contortions. There was also a group of
little girl dancers. This picturesque but painful sight impressed us
with the necessity for the establishment here of a society for the
prevention of cruelty to children.
[Illustration: _Meshrebeeyeah windows_]
Two hundred and fifty more passengers were added to the steamer list at
Marseilles, and henceforth the vessel was to be taxed to her utmost
capacity. Most of the passengers were _en route_ for a five weeks'
voyage to Australia, many of them were friends, and a general spirit of
jollity prevailed, the decks presenting the appearance of a seaside
veranda, with their tables, lounging-chairs, work-baskets, and toys. A
"sports" committee was at once formed, and games of all kinds were
played (always for prizes), while a concert, dances, and bridge
enlivened the evening hours.
On the night of November 17th we passed the volcano of Stromboli (now
inactive), our steamer gliding between it on one side and the isles of
Pina on the other; some hours later the Straits of Messina were reached;
while, farther on, the island of Candida was passed. A church service
was held aboard both morning and evening (the latter in the second-class
salon), this being the invariable rule on English steamers.
* * * * *
PORT SAÏD, _November 20th_: As we approached Port Saïd, everything was
at first shadowy--the lighthouse, a group of palms, and a minaret
seeming to rise out of the sea. There were a few points of land called
Damietta, but all else was flat. At last we steamed into the harbor,
anchoring at the mouth of the Suez Canal, and were taken ashore in a
launch amidst a confused yelling of voices,--indeed a perfect Babel.
With only three or four hours in Port Saïd, there was little time for a
close survey, but we walked through some of the streets, called at a few
shops of no special interest, and had afternoon tea at one of the
hotels, to the accompaniment of music furnished by native musicians. We
had always heard Port Saïd spoken of as "the wickedest place in the
world," and we commented on the apparent absence of such a condition;
but we were assured by one of the tourists that wickedness did exist,
and we accepted the statement without an attempt to verify it.
Port Saïd gains its principal importance from being the starting-point
of that great waterway, the Suez Canal, of which we form our first
impression from the fact that ten years' time was required for its
construction and $100,000,000 were expended on the work, the payment of
which impoverished Egypt and was one of the causes that led to the
protectorate of England. This is said to be a humiliating condition to
all true Egyptians.
The monument at Port Saïd, raised in honor of Ferdinand de Lesseps, as
the founder of the enterprise, emphasizes France's contribution to the
project.
* * * * *
CAIRO, _November 20th_: A late train to Cairo caused us to arrive near
midnight, an inopportune time for first impressions, but the memory of a
former visit caused a pleasant anticipation of scenes to be revisited. A
week, however, was too short a time in which to cover the ground, but by
persistent effort on our part much was accomplished.
Having headquarters at Shepheard's Hotel--with its foreign arrangement
of rooms and furnishings, together with its gayly attired attendants,
many of them costumed in red, yellow, green, or blue silk trimmed with
gilt, and wearing silk turbans to match--gave us at once an Oriental
environment. The central location of the building, with the opportunity,
also, which the wide terrace afforded guests for making observations,
offered us an immediate insight into the unique life of the city. The
venders of fruit, flowers, postal cards, and souvenirs formed a
foreground of many colors, while beyond was an unceasing flow of motley
carriages, native vehicles, carts, donkeys, and camels, and sometimes
two resplendent outriders (called "Sikhs"), on fine chargers, heralded
the approach of some dignitary,--a custom which is, however, dying out.
The most novel sight which came to our notice was a wedding procession,
the bride being ever carefully concealed by silken curtains thrown over
either a carriage or a peculiarly constructed litter borne by two
camels, one at the front and one at the back; a band of music preceded,
followed by vehicles of many different kinds containing members of the
bridal party, all _en route_ for the bride's home.
It must be remembered that Cairo, while in one sense a modern city,
presents many clearly defined mediæval phases; this is particularly true
throughout its native quarters, as exemplified in streets and bazars in
the vicinity of the Nile, and in its old-time mosques; in this
connection I would emphasize the bazars, both Turkish and Arabic. Some
of the old irregular thoroughfares on which the bazars are situated
radiate from the wider and more important Muski; then, again, there are
narrower alley-like streets, a veritable tangle! The bazars everywhere
are similarly constructed, but vary in size and importance; they are
box-like in form, from four to six feet in width, and six to eight feet
in height, and are raised one or two feet from the ground, with three
sides enclosed and the fourth open to the street by day, but at night
closed, the fourth wall sliding into place like a folding door.
Here is usually to be found, for a certain distance, but one kind of
goods, be it slippers, brass-work, or embroideries, alternating with
eatables, fruit, pipes, and the like, there being no attempt at
classification. Woe be to the unwary who approach these bazars without
the ability to "bargain"; for there is ever a scale of prices, and the
topmost one is usually exorbitant!
[Illustration: _A bridge spanning the Nile at Cairo_]
Within the open space of his shop sits the dealer, ready for the
contest, sometimes complacently sipping his coffee, or smoking a
cigarette, the long Turkish pipes having been largely abolished. The
courtesy of coffee or a cigarette is often extended to the purchaser,
which possesses a mollifying effect if the discussion over a purchase
has waxed high.
It is said that the scenes in the Turkish bazars on a fête day are like
a picture from the "Arabian Nights," the places being illuminated by
many candles or chandeliers, and covered by awnings formed of rich
shawls, scarfs, and embroideries brought from the interior. This gives
each bazar the appearance of a reception room, with the dealer seated
within, dispensing hospitality, every one being dressed in holiday
attire. The bazars in Cairo are considered an important feature of the
life of the city (as they are in every place throughout the Eastern or
Western Orient), but they are less attractive than those I visited in
Tunis, Constantinople, or Damascus.
The crowd that is passing the shops often proves more interesting than
the display within, as there are natives of all ages and descriptions,
Arabs, Bedouins, Turks, and Egyptians, some mounted on donkeys and some
driving heavily laden camels. Water-carriers with jars, mostly women,
are among them, while the natives usually carry under the arm the
characteristic pigskin, filled with water. These are the sights to be
seen, together with the venders of fruit and vegetables, alternating
with richly equipped carriages, and funeral or bridal processions. Men
and women in their Oriental dress jostle the crowd of sight-seers who
ever throng these ways.
In these, but more often in a better class of streets, we pass the
lovely meshrebîya windows, with their intricate turned lattice-work
designs; they are very frequently oblong projecting windows, but instead
of glass there is used the fine tracery or lattice-work in wood. Sad to
relate, this fine work is sharing in the general decay to be found in
the old quarters of Cairo, and, in a few years, the tourist will only be
able to view the specimens even now being sent to the Arabian Museum,
which institution is, by the way, doing a splendid work in preserving
and classifying all artistic remains, notably those from the crumbling
mosques.
Except in the matter of decay, I found little change in the native
portion of the city since my visit in 1898; but the aspect of the city
proper has grown modern. Fine new streets, public buildings and
residences, are seen everywhere in the Ezbekieh and Ismailian quarters
of the city, while certain sections suggest a European capital. The
Ezbekieh Gardens, opposite the Continental Hotel, form really a small
park in the centre of the city, and are a great resort for tourists as
well as residents.
[Illustration: _The peculiar head-dress of the Cairo women_]
The Ismailian is the fashionable quarter of the city, and it is said
that many wealthy citizens have left their former luxurious native homes
for a modern residence in the new section. Hence many dealers in the
bazars have secured the deserted Oriental homes, and now live in
comparative luxury, showing that conditions and residential centres
change in the Old World as well as in the New.
But note how much more attractive the original home must appear to
native eyes. A passage leads from the street to a spacious court, and
grouped around the court, which usually has a fountain in the centre
(with sometimes one or two trees), are the rooms for general use and
those assigned to guests. The apartments occupied by the women of the
family, commonly called the harem, are not visible, but are generally
spacious and well furnished, even luxuriously appointed, with inlaid
floors, decorated walls, and rich rugs. The light filters through either
meshrebîya or flat latticed windows, for no profane eye can gaze on the
supposed loveliness of damsel and dame, nor can they, in their turn,
gaze outward for any distance, which shows the restricted social
condition of the women.
It is said that they are virtually regarded with contempt, and, though
usually kindly treated in the harem, they are considered only as
ornamental appendages of the home; hence they are rarely educated, and
never in more than those accomplishments, such as music and dancing,
which tend to add to their attractiveness.
The better classes of women are always seen veiled, and, with the
peculiar covering over the nose, one can only judge of their appearance
by their often very beautiful eyes. Oh, the infinite sadness to be found
in the depths of many of them!
I was, however, told by a gentleman, long resident in Cairo, that there
are indications of a gradual change as regards education, the wives of a
few high officials having been educated on broader lines than mere
accomplishments; hence it is to be hoped that the leaven will work in
time. It may also be found later that the transference of the harem from
an Oriental home to a Number 9 residence on a fashionable street will
lessen the seclusion heretofore imposed.
The Nile is always a centre of interest, not only for those who explore
it to the cataracts or Khartoum, but for natives and tourists who throng
its banks to catch a glimpse of the queer sailing craft, and to watch
the never-ending procession that passes over it,--men, women, vehicles,
and animals filling every available space.
It is quite the fashion for parties of tourists to repair to the bridge
at 5 A.M. in order to watch the marketmen, venders of all kinds, and the
heavily laden donkeys and camels fulfilling their part in the labor of
supplying the city markets.
Once across the bridge, the procession from the country is even more
picturesque; and, viewed from a waiting "tram" in the late afternoon,
when all are homeward bound, the scene is most incongruous. Sometimes
four or five heavily veiled women in black robes are seen on one of the
long two-wheeled carts, drawn by an emaciated horse with a native at his
head as a propelling power; next, follow a flock of geese, two or three
score of goats, a group of sheep, four or five camels looking down with
a superior air on the donkeys, as well as pedestrians of many
complexions and of varied dress--Arabs, Bedouins, Soudanese, and
Egyptians,--their queerly shaped turbans and brilliant colors lending
the finishing touch to the scene. Nowhere else in the Orient does such a
view present itself, and its setting is the Nile!
The last glimpse of the Nile, the evening before my departure, will
never be forgotten. The occasion was an invitation to indulge in
afternoon tea at the Hôtel Semiramis, near the entrance to the bridge.
We lingered on for the sunset, which first appeared as a flaming ball
of fire, succeeded by myriad shades of rainbow hues, these fading into
softer tints and later into those more delicate tones that prelude the
twilight. Then silence seemed to brood over the wonderful river, and we
departed.
If the street scenes, the bazars, and the Nile are an index to the
native life of Cairo, a greater claim may be made for the mosques, in
which the city abounds; for they represent political changes, social
evolution, and artistic development, as history proves. To substantiate
this claim of the mosques, a brief digression is necessary.
The origin of Cairo dates back to the Muslim invasion in 640; the
original Arab settlement was called Fustât, the "Town of the Tent,"
which is substantially the old Cairo of to-day. Here was erected almost
at once the first mosque, that of Amr, sometimes called Amru. In 751 a
northeast suburb was added, called El Askar; this was to be the
residence of the Governor, and here also was erected the Mosque of El
Askar. Keeping still to the northeast, another city was added, in 860,
by the first independent Muslim King of Egypt, Ibn Tûlûn, called El
Katâi; the "wards" became divided into separate quarters for various
nations and classes, and here was erected the remarkable Mosque of Ibn
Tûlûn. A fourth city still farther northeast was added a little over a
century later, called El Kâhira (the Cairo of to-day); this did not
become the commercial capital of Egypt, but occupied the same relation
to Fustât that El Askar and Katâi held. The Town of the Tent, resting on
the bank of the Nile, still remained the metropolis, as it did after the
fall of both El Askar and Katâi--the disaster to these latter cities
giving additional prestige to El Kâhira.
[Illustration: _The Mosque of Amr_]
The building of a mosque[1] was regarded by the rulers not only as an
expression of religious zeal, but as a contribution to the life of the
State. Several mosques were erected during the two centuries of Arab
rule, but Amr was the first and most important. It is situated near the
site of the old Roman city of Misr, where Amr first pitched his tent, on
the invasion of Egypt. The outside of the old mosque is not imposing,
but, with the vast court forty thousand feet in area, surrounded by
colonnades consisting of numberless columns with every variety of
capitals (taken from Christian churches), it excites our admiration.
Wooden beams, stretched from column to column, formerly supported one
hundred and eighty thousand hanging lamps which illuminated the edifice
every night, while throngs of learned men, professors, and persons of
many conditions gathered there daily for lectures and discussion. The
great convocation was on Friday, when a sermon and prayers were the
order of the day, the immense court affording ample space for the
multitude, while the large east end sanctuary gave room for persons of
distinction to kneel. The mihrab, or niche, where worshippers turned
toward Mecca, the pulpit, and the tribunal were also features of the
edifice. We now see little of the original mosque, for it has been
remodelled from time to time; but it still remains the best type of the
congregational mosque (called Gami, meaning "assembly"), and to me it
seemed, as I looked upon it, one of the most impressive monuments of a
dead past that I had ever seen.
With the political change in 868, which introduced the Turkish period,
Ibn Tûlûn became the ruler, and another era of mosque and palace and
hospital building prevailed. The Mosque of Ibn Tûlûn is the only
monument that survives; it is also a congregational type and has the
same general style as Amr; it is the earliest instance of the use of the
pointed arch throughout a building, this being two centuries earlier
than its use in England. Five rows of arches form the arcade, or
cloisters, on the Mecca end of the building, with two rows on the other
three sides. The ornaments on the arches and around the windows are in
stucco, and are worked by hand in the plaster, instead of being moulded
as is the stucco work of the Alhambra. These consist of a bud, flower,
and rosette pattern. Another century passed on, when, in 969, the
victorious Gauhar forced the passage of the Nile and assumed possession
in behalf of a Fatimid caliphate (named Fatimid, for a daughter of
Mohammed). This event presaged a religious as well as a political
change, for the Fatimids were apostates from the true faith and
advocated the doctrines of Shi'a, one of the tenets being that the Koran
had been created, and another that there had been Mohammeds or inspired
men in every century. Shi'a now became the State religion, and for two
centuries held sway over Egypt.
This period was famous for palace building, and the descriptions of the
magnificence and luxurious furnishings read like a fairy tale. Mosque
building was not neglected, and there are two notable examples of the
congregational form, El Azhar and El Hâkim. El Azhar was founded by
Gauhar on April 3, 970, and in 988 it was especially devoted to the uses
of learning. It soon became one of the chief universities of the time,
and in 1101 there were nine thousand students and two hundred and
thirty-nine professors. The foreign students even now pay no fee and are
allowed rations of food, there being an endowment for this purpose. It
is, however, still used to a certain extent as a mosque; but it does not
now preserve the regular plan of a mosque, having been remodelled and
added to several times. It has six minarets and a spacious court
covering three thousand six hundred square yards, with one hundred and
forty columns and numerous side chambers which are devoted to lectures,
libraries, and laboratories.
At the time of our visit this court was filled with individual groups of
about thirty students, each around a professor; they were sitting
cross-legged on the floor, and were chanting their lessons with a
swaying motion of the body. A class of small children was of special
interest, studying passages of the Koran from cards. The Mosque of El
Hâkim was completed in 1013, and was so resplendent throughout that it
was known as the "Brilliant." This mosque has suffered more indignities
than even the old Amr, but the vast, empty court, with its partly ruined
arches, still has a certain dignity. There were originally five
minarets.
[Illustration: _The interior of the Tomb Mosque of Kalaûn_]
Leaving the Mosque of El Hâkim on the right, we have Bâb El-Futûh, the
Gate of Capture, which is connected by the city wall with the companion
Bâb En-Nasr, or Gate of Victory. These two gates guard the strong
northeast extremity of the old city fortifications, and in 1799 formed a
strong position for the troops of Napoleon. With Bâb Zuweyler, they are
the most important of the sixty gates which once existed in the wall of
Cairo. They have an inner and outer entrance and resemble a Roman
gateway.
The Fatimid rulers outvied each other in embellishing Kâhira with
artistic structures; this seems surprising because, on account of the
charge of heresy, Kâhira was cut off from the Arabian centres of art and
learning,--from Bagdad, Damascus, and Cordova,--and of course the
artists and students, who formerly frequented the mosques, could not do
so when they were in the hands of heretics. This condition of affairs,
together with other causes, produced a crisis, as will be seen.
The advance of Amalric and the Crusaders, in 1168, not only resulted in
the downfall of the Fatimids, but in the destruction of old Fustât,
Shawar, the ruler, having issued a mandate for it to be burned in order
to prevent the city from becoming a refuge for the Crusaders. The fire
lasted fifty-five days, and the city in all its magnificence, having
been the metropolis for five centuries, perished, a portion of the old
Mosque of Amr alone remaining. Kâhira then took its place as the
official centre of Egypt.
Saladin, the King of Jerusalem, now became ruler of Egypt, and he at
once adopted strong measures to win the apostates back to the true
faith. With a wisdom far in advance of his time, he planned to educate
the followers of Shi'aism by the introduction of madrasah mosques and
colleges. Heretofore we have had the Gami, or congregational mosque,
with a severely plain exterior. The madrasah mosques of this period
contained a smaller court, which was frequently capped with a cupola in
the centre; the sides of the court, instead of being surrounded by
arcades, were formed of four transepts, each spanned by a single lofty
arch. The transept toward the east was deeper than the others, forming
the niche for prayer; it was also furnished with the usual mihrab,
pulpit, and tribunal. Fine façades, minarets, and domes took the place
of the usual plain exterior; the dome was generally utilized as the
covering of a tomb or was intended for future memorial use. The
religious exercises (daily prayers, except on Friday, with sermons) were
in the nature of a school training in the interest of the true
Mohammedan faith.
The exterior of the madrasah college was not unlike the mosque
described, but the interior included facilities for theological
lectures, together with classrooms and libraries for general study; the
students were received on the very terms described in connection with
the university Mosque of El Azhar. These, in general, were the means
employed by Saladin to win all back to the true faith; in time he was
successful, and Kâhira no longer rested under the stigma of heresy.
The dignity of the Fatimid age was lowered by Saladin's quartering the
officers of his army in the magnificent palaces, while he occupied the
house of the Viziers. Shortly every monument of the brilliant Fatimid
period had vanished, with the exception of four mosques and the three
gates previously alluded to. Saladin, however, inaugurated a new era of
building, and during his nominal reign of twenty-four years three
mosques and sixteen colleges attest his zeal to the "cause." He also
built the citadel, and the great wall which was to enclose not only
Kâhira but the remains of the old cities. To him the present city of
Cairo owes its form and extent.
The tomb Mosque of Kalaûn was built in 1279 by the ruler of that name,
and is adjacent to the fine hospital, bearing the same name also; while
not large, it contains exquisite examples of wood carving, marble
mosaic, and plaster ornament worked in by hand. Seventy-seven years
later, in 1356, we find that, in the Mosque of Sultan Hasan, the
sculpture was in stone; hence, the material being unyielding, the
designs are geometrical, instead of arabesque, as in the plaster. This
is one of the most important mosques of any age, and is the most
characteristic of the madrasah form. Seen from without, the walls appear
even higher than the accredited one hundred and thirteen feet; they are
built of fine cut stone, from the pyramids, and windows relieve the
monotony of bare surface. There is a fine portal, set in an arched niche
sixty-six feet high, which is decorated with geometrical designs and
which has corner columns and capitals. The interior gives one an
impression of immense size, on account of the great span of the four
arches; the one at the east end is ninety feet high and seventy feet
wide, and is unequalled. The mosaics and marbles, however, are less
artistic than in the later mosques. The tomb chamber, entered from the
east, has a finely decorated door of brass, and is encircled by a marble
dado, twenty-five feet high, above which is a verse from the Koran
carved in wood. In the centre of the room is the grave of the founder.
The original dome fell in 1660, and was replaced by an inferior one;
there were to have been four minarets, but these collapsed also. The
court is well proportioned and contains an artistic fountain for
ablution.
[Illustration: _Fountain in the Mosque of Sultan Hasan_]
We saw the bronze lantern and many of the enamelled glass lamps in the
Arabian Museum, which forms a depository for ancient works of art; the
mosque has suffered greatly from devastation and abuse, but it still
retains a prestige among its class that not even time can efface. It is
said that Sultan Hasan was so delighted with the edifice that he ordered
the architect's hands cut off, for fear he might duplicate his
success,--an act committed presumably on the principle that "the end
justifies the means."
The Circassian as well as the Turkish Mamelukes were great builders of
mosques and colleges, particularly Sultan Barkûk (1382-1399) and Sultan
Kâït Bey (1468-1496). Their edifices are marvels of artistic skill, and,
by the time of Kâït Bey, perfection seemed almost to have been reached.
This is particularly true of the tomb mosques, situated in the mausolea
on the east side of the city, and known as the Tombs of the Khalifs.
That of Barkûk is noticeable, on account of its two superb domes, its
two minarets, and a carved pulpit, the latter erected by Kâït Bey. The
Mosque of Kâït Bey is, however, the finest of the group; it has a lofty
dome, adorned with bands of sculpture, minarets with galleries, and
bronze doors. There are beautiful ivory carvings over the tomb, while
the edifice is lighted by fifty colored glass windows. Near by, the
smaller modern tomb mosque of the Khedive Tewfik (the father of the
present Khedive), which is resplendent with a wealth of interior
decorations, suffers in comparison.
The defeat of the Mamelukes, and the Ottoman occupation of Kâhira in
1517, caused no cessation of mosque building; but there was a departure
from the Saracenic models, and also a still more marked return to the
congregational form than had been witnessed in the days of the great
builders just noted. This is evident in the last great mosque of the
modern period, that of Mohammed Ali (the independent monarch), begun by
that ruler, but not completed until 1857. It is situated in the citadel
and has an immense court, surrounded by arcades; but, unlike the
original type, it is covered with an immense dome, producing an
impressive effect. The exterior has also four smaller domes (one on each
side) and two very tall minarets, with shorter ones on each corner. The
mosque is likewise called the Alabaster Mosque, as the columns are built
of yellow alabaster and the walls encrusted with it; its location in the
citadel gives it a commanding position, and, being modern, it has
escaped the ravages of time.
[Illustration: _Openwork dagobas_]
Only a few representative mosques have here been outlined
architecturally (several others were visited), but an attempt has been
made to give these their political and social significance and
setting. Of the artistic side of the picture, it is claimed, on high
authority, that there have been manifested, in the construction of these
mosques, great architectural skill, perfection of ornament in wood,
plaster, and stone, and a careful adherence to Saracenic principles.
The most conspicuous point in Cairo is the citadel, erected by Saladin
in 1166, and constituting a fitting monument of his reign. From its
position and its fortification, it would seem almost invincible; but,
unfortunately, the fortress is itself commanded by the higher Mokattam
hills, as was shown in 1805, when Mohammed Ali, by means of a battery
placed on a hill, compelled Karishid Pasha to surrender the stronghold.
The mosque of Mohammed Ali, placed in the citadel, as already described,
can be seen from every side, and the barracks are also a prominent
feature; but the presence of British troops seems hardly to harmonize
with the Oriental environment.
A fine view of the city may be seen from the ramparts, but it is
surpassed by the view to be had from the Mokattam hills; on our way
there, some of the party took donkeys from near the citadel, but others
(like myself) walked, if the exercise of ploughing through the deep
furrows of sand may so be termed. A slippery climb, and all of Cairo
with its environs lay before us--and such a view! It was in the late
afternoon of a perfect day; the scene was, in the main, Oriental, the
European touches being less visible from a distance. First, a confused
stretch of domes, minarets, and roofs; then a separate mosque stood out,
and we recognized Sultan Hasan and Ibn Tûlûn. Farther on were seen the
towers above the Bâb Zuweyler gate; then the Tombs of the Khalifs,
blended together, and still farther there appeared the shadowy outlines
of the old Mosque of Amr. At our feet stood the citadel, while the
Alabaster Mosque and the line of arches marking the old aqueduct were
clearly visible. The setting sun illumined the silver line of the Nile,
touched the distant pyramids resting on the desert, and revealed the
far-away step pyramid of Sakkara. Its glory seemed all to be gathered
here, suffusing the whole panorama, and resting upon the scene like a
silent benediction.
The island of Rodda divides the Nile, and was formerly connected by
bridges of boats with both the island of Gizeh and Fustât, now old
Cairo. It was formerly a place of commercial importance, and had
extensive dockyards; according to tradition it is a place of Biblical
associations, since a palace occupied by Pharaoh's daughter is pointed
out, and also the place on the river where Moses was found in the
bulrushes.
[Illustration: _Citadel and Mosque of Mahomet Ali_]
The old Nilometer, for measuring the depths of the Nile, which was
erected in 716, is of interest. It consists of a square well, sixteen
feet in diameter, having, in the centre, an octagonal column on which
the ancient Arabic measures are inscribed. It was last remodelled in
1893. We visited old Cairo and the Coptic churches, six of which are
situated in the precincts of the ancient castle of Babylon. The Copts
are considered fine representatives of the old Egyptians, and they have
succeeded in preserving their language and liturgy through twelve
centuries of fierce oppression. The Fatimid period alone allowed them
some measure of toleration; their religious forms are similar to those
of the Greek church, but their discipline is more severe, their Lenten
fast covering a period of fifty-five days, with abstinence from sunrise
to sunset.
The Church of St. George will illustrate the peculiar arrangement of
their religious edifices. Following the example of the older Egyptian
Byzantine churches, the nave and tribune are uncovered and the side
aisles have galleries. The nave has three divisions: first, a vestibule;
second, a section set apart for women; and third, another section for
men. There are the usual choir, sanctuary, and side chapels, and the
division between the choir and the sanctuary is ornamented with carvings
in wood and ivory. The church also contains Byzantine carving and
mosaics, and is characterized by the usual richness in decoration. A
flight of twelve steps descends into the crypt, a small vaulted chapel
with marble columns situated under the choir. At the end of the nave is
an altar, around which has sprung up the tradition that the Virgin and
Child there rested during a month's stay, after the flight to Egypt. The
Church of St. Sergius is similar in construction, as are others of the
group, besides hundreds more scattered through Egypt. The dust of ages
clung to our skirts as we left the desolate scene, and there was within
us the consciousness that, for old Cairo, there could be no
resurrection.
One of the places that might consume days in the inspection is the
Museum of Egyptian Antiquities, which it is impossible to describe in a
limited space. But to the student of Egyptology and to the tourist it is
alike important, because, in its monuments of stone and bronze, it
presents visible proofs of a wonderful past, while the sarcophagi,
mummies, and other remains taken from the tombs, reveal the life and
habits of the early Egyptians.
With only two mornings for an inspection, we devoted one to a general
view of the museum, and the other to the fine collection of our
fellow-traveller, Mr. Theodore Davis, for which a special room is
reserved. Mr. Davis courteously explained to us the different objects,
or "finds"; these included artistic articles of household use, a fine
group of Canopic jars, and miscellaneous pieces of unusual merit (all
from the tombs of the Kings at Thebes); the whole exhibit showing what
an enthusiast, with time and means, can accomplish in the interest of a
buried past.
An excursion of great meaning is that to the pyramids. Crossing the
Nile, we followed its course to the former palace of Gizeh; then the way
led inland, along what was formerly a fine carriage drive, but now one
usually takes the tram to save time. Our arrival was exciting, owing to
the number of persistent Bedouins who met us with donkeys and camels. A
white donkey, named Snowflake, and an attendant, named Yankee Doodle,
fell to me, while a camel, named Mary Anderson, was allotted to a
friend. An inquiry as to why American names prevailed, revealed the fact
that the names of the animals are adjustable, according to the
nationality of the party to be supplied.
The appearance of the pyramids is familiar the world over, but an actual
view of these monuments of hoary age ever inspires awe and reverence. As
we ascended the plateau (twelve hundred by sixteen hundred yards), and
rode within the shadow of the pyramids, our feeling was deepened by the
view of the barren waste stretched before us,--yellowish sand and piles
of debris accentuating the solitude of the place, while the inscrutable
Sphinx and other monuments added their silent testimony.
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 canals, 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 Hôtel 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.
[Illustration: _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 mass
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 Kléber 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 Canal in 1869) is
now turned into a popular hotel; its grounds slope down to the Nile,
where dahabiyehs are sometimes anchored; 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 SAÏD, _November 26th_: The return to Port Saïd in the afternoon was
followed by our departure on another P. & O. steamer, the _Arabia_, for
Bombay, India.
One enters the Suez Canal with peculiar sensations, as it is a waterway
of vast importance, connecting the Mediterranean and Red Seas, and so
narrow that the shores on both sides are distinctly visible. It extends
from Port Saïd 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 Saïd. 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 Abû 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 Canal. 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 grass, 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 passengers 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
destitute of vegetation, although there was a little settlement close to
the shore.
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 anticipated a hurried survey of the city, but the heat
was so excessive that only a few gentlemen ventured ashore; 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.
[Illustration: _The Suez Canal near Port Saïd_]
The Arabian Sea gave us an aftermath of heat, but, remembering with
considerable satisfaction that the days of our transit were nearly
over, we assumed 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 shore, the tasteful Royal Bombay Yacht
Club in the front, the spacious 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?
[Illustration: _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 municipal
buildings are hardly to be surpassed, 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 class 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 Parsee 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 class 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 institutions of the city; many
distinctions have been won by them from the English Government.
[Illustration: _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 spacious grounds with
trees, shrubbery, and flowers, hold the Parsee dead.
These towers are of whitewashed stone, two hundred and seventy-five feet
in circumference, 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 pass 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 class) 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 Parsees 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 classes: 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.
[Illustration: _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 class, 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 substituting 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 classes, 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 class 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 passing 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.
[Illustration: _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 shaggy
negroes from Zanzibar, islanders from the Maldives and Laccadives;
Malays and Chinese throng and jostle with Parsees in their sloping hats,
with Jews, Lascars, Rajputs, Fakirs, European Sepoys, and Sahibs."
[Illustration: _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 space
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 Abû, 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.
[Illustration: _Entrance to one of the Caves of Elephanta_]
The arrival at Jeypore was in the chill of late evening; as we
approached the Hotel Kaiser-i-Hind (the best the place affords), a blaze
of light showed us a large open veranda, furnished with chairs, sofas,
and tables, and evidently the salon of the hotel. My room opened from
the end of the balcony, and it was large and cheerless, so all hope of
warmth vanished; a small, dark bathroom was at one side (with no light
except when a door was opened), furnished with the regulation high round
bathtub and a shaky washstand; neither of the outer doors would lock!
The floors on opposite sides of both rooms contained ominous-looking
square openings, suggesting the possibilities of certain reptiles which
we had been told existed, but which we had not yet seen. After viewing
all these "tranquillizing" influences, we retired, having first undone
the distasteful "hold-all" for extra bedding.
The next morning dawned without the door having been opened and without
the appearance of the dreaded lizards. The veranda salon presented an
animated appearance; several men in turbans and wearing camel's-hair
shawls (draped around the shoulders) were sitting on the floor,
displaying their many commodities, which included embroideries, shawls,
garnet beads (a specialty of Jeypore), necklaces of various kinds,
together with swords, daggers, and the like, all warranted to be
antique. "Memsahib" was heard in every direction, for the arrival of a
party of supposedly rich Americans had been duly heralded. Resisting
their importunities for the time being, we entered an inner room and
found comfort and a fairly good breakfast waiting us. Such persistency
and eloquence, nevertheless, as were later displayed by those dealers in
describing their wares are seldom heard! Fortunate for us that some of
the articles were attractive enough to be purchased, stilling the clamor
for a time! But as we had been told that this would be the usual
programme on our arrival at any place in the Orient, the future prospect
was not alluring.
While over a quarter of India's population as well as a third of its
area is under native rule, the "beaten track" is subject to English
régime. Hence the visit to Jeypore, the capital of the independent
province of Rajputana, is always regarded as a new experience. We found
indeed a unique city, situated on a plain, hemmed in by lofty hills,
with streets and buildings the color of old rose pink, and with broad,
regularly laid out thoroughfares, two long straight streets intersecting
each other at right angles near the palace, thus forming four corners.
Here is a fountain, and the point is a centre of life and action; crowds
of people surge back and forth, almost trodden underfoot by the
ever-present, ponderous elephants, camels, and bullocks, drawing the
little _ekkas_,--every one disputing the right of way. Proceed in any
direction and more unusual street scenes present themselves along a
single block than can elsewhere be found, and this in a city less than
two centuries old! It is due, however, to the barbaric character of an
environment where a gorgeous Maharaja, tigers, leopards, and elephants
all figure in the scene, where the crowds always seem happy and life is
one large "merry go round."
[Illustration: _Street scene in Jeypore_]
The Palace of the Wind is a peculiar structure; visitors are not
admitted, and it is usually reserved for the guests of the Maharaja on
State occasions, the ruler being very hospitable. It is said that a
polite intimation on the part of a tourist that he desires to visit the
interior, coupled with some slight credential, will cause one or two
elephants and a body-guard to be placed at his disposal for the
expedition.
Not much of the "Palace of Occupation" was seen; a large audience room
was finely proportioned, but looked uninviting, as the rugs were rolled
up and the furniture covered. The stables adjoining were, however, of
great interest, as three hundred horses were in the collection, some of
them of rare value. Later, we visited the elephant stalls and the
leopard and tiger cages. In another locality the observatory, covering a
large open space, was filled with the quaint old devices, now obsolete,
for studying the heavens.
The long streets are lined with bazars of the usual plan but much
larger; workers in brass predominated, that being a specialty of
Jeypore. There is a flourishing Art School where old forms of vases,
lamps, and boxes are reproduced, the original designs being loaned from
the Victoria and Albert Memorial Museum, which occupies an artistic
building in the centre of spacious grounds. There one may find a rare
collection of old brass, gold and silver enamel, wood carving, weaving
and embroidery, all classified and arranged in historical order.
A native school, or college, greatly interested us; there were groups of
boys in a number of rooms, all belonging to the best Rajput families.
There are special rooms devoted to Sanskrit, English (here the boys
recited a poem in unison), history, logic, philosophy, and the natural
sciences.
There were a number of unpretentious Hindu temples, and the Maharaja is
said to be quite punctilious in his observance of religious forms. He
was absent from the city, but several brothers of his were seen driving,
clad in long garments of gaudy-colored striped calico, and wearing small
turbans; the dress of the women was also peculiar, the skirt being so
full that as they walked they resembled balloons; they are noted for
wearing a profusion of jewelry,--necklaces by the half-dozen, bracelets
sometimes nearly to the elbow, anklets, heavy earrings, nose-rings,
and finger-rings without number.
[Illustration: _A Hindu woman of Jeypore_]
Animals and birds in large quantities added motion and color to the
street scenes, together with brightly caparisoned elephants, stately
camels, and white bullocks with their long horns and dreamy eyes,
drawing the little two-wheeled _ekka_, which sometimes carried four
occupants. Peacocks flashed in and out at every turn (they are
considered a sacred bird and are therefore protected), while
blue-breasted pigeons came in clouds whenever there was a prospect of a
feast.
There are processions of various kinds, the highest function of all
being a wedding procession, where the brilliancy varies according to the
amount of means that can be expended by the prospective bridegroom. In
one afternoon we witnessed eight of these spectacles; the first was
given by a man of wealth who was seated on an elephant, the palanquin of
which was gorgeous in its decoration; he himself was richly dressed, as
were the attendant friends. The procession was preceded by a band of
music, and in the group were six nautch, or dancing girls; at intervals
of about two blocks, the cavalcade stopped, matting was thrown down, and
the dancers came and executed a slow-measured dance, which continued for
about five minutes; then the procession moved on to the next point,
this programme continuing until the home of the bride was reached. All
of this we witnessed. The other seven wedding processions presented
variations; in one the principal actor was a boy of about fourteen who
looked terrified; two of the processions consisted of poor men;
sometimes carriages were substituted for the elephants, and the
dancing-girls were omitted, but there were always music and a crowd.
Elephants figured prominently in our trip to the old city of Amber, five
miles distant, and the former capital of Rajputana. We left our carriage
some distance away and were conveyed the remainder of the journey by two
elephants, named Munsie and Bunsie, with gayly painted faces and trunks,
furnished through the courtesy of the Maharaja. In this fashion we made
our entrance.
The old city of Amber is situated below the palace, which is on the side
of a mountain, with a long-stretching fort back of it; the situation,
together with the gray walls of the palace and the fort, all makes a
striking picture, reminding one of mediæval times; the palace is well
preserved, many of the rooms are artistic, and the fine public audience
chamber particularly impressed us. Here large gatherings are held in
connection with ceremonial occasions at Jeypore; the Prince of Wales
had been entertained here two years previous, at which time the city
of Jeypore was made resplendent with a fresh coat of the rose pink
preparation.
[Illustration: _Interior view of Amber Palace_]
Near the entrance to the Amber Palace was an exquisite little Hindu
temple, dedicated to the terrible goddess, Kali, who delights in
sacrifice; this was presided over by a revolting-looking priest, and
there were evident traces of the daily morning sacrifice of a goat. Once
a year one hundred goats are offered up, together with other animals;
formerly human beings were sacrificed to appease the goddess, but this
slaughter is now prohibited by law. In a well-kept garden back of the
palace there is a fine collection of tropical fruits and of unfamiliar
shrubs. This ruined city of Amber must have presented a wonderful
spectacle two centuries ago, before the pageants and old-time customs
were transferred to its modern prototype, Jeypore.
Another afternoon's experience in Jeypore seemed even more like a scene
from a comic opera,--only the curtain is never lowered in this most
spectacular city in India, if not in the entire world.
The pleasure of our stay in Jeypore was greatly enhanced by the
intelligence of the local guide, who was of the Brahman class and
broadly educated; he had an enlarged idea of the benefit to be derived
from a sojourn in the New World, but he seemed uncertain with regard to
securing a position in New York. One of the gentlemen suggested that he
might at first seek employment as a butler, but his reply was that it
would be impossible for him to engage in any menial work on account of
his caste; this is a mild illustration of the domination of social
lines.
A little wave of excitement was created on the morning of December 12th
by a slight earthquake; we were still further shaken up by the constant
presence of the persistent venders whenever we were at the hotel, who
even followed us to the station the hour of our departure for Delhi,
when articles were purchased by us at half their original price.
* * * * *
DELHI, _December 13th_: A greater contrast can hardly be imagined than
that between barbaric, pleasure-loving Jeypore, and Delhi, a city full
of old-time associations, whose triumphs of architectural skill and
sculptured devices have won for it the admiration of the world.
The fort and palace, together with the adjacent mosque, called Jumma
Musjid, are the chief centres of interest and the points we first
visited. The two places suffered greatly during the mutiny of 1857, and
the old Mogul capital has passed through so many vicissitudes that a
little historical setting seems necessary.
[Illustration: _General view of Amber Palace and fort near Jeypore_]
Of the city's early history very little is known before the Mohammedan
conquest, in 1193 A.D. There are, however, the ruins of two Hindu forts
of the eleventh century in old Delhi (covering many miles south of
Delhi), as well as the famous iron pillar of Kutub Minar, to be alluded
to later. Delhi was not favored by the greatest of Mogul rulers, King
Akbar, or by his son, King Jahangir; however, his grandson, Shah Jahan,
built the fort in 1638, and later the palace and great mosque--hence the
name, Shah Jahanabad, and in his connection with the Taj Mahal and
palace at Agra, he won the title of the "Great Builder"; he also
transferred the capital from Agra to Delhi.
A century later, the city was sacked by Nadir Shah, of Persia, and a
general massacre occurred. Although finally defeated, he took with him
many treasures, among them the priceless Peacock Throne and the valuable
Kohinur diamond; the latter is now in the possession of King Edward of
England.
Other changes followed, until, in 1804, British occupation was effected;
but even then the descendants of the Mogul monarchs were allowed some
show of royalty, until after the King's treachery and deposition at the
time of the mutiny of 1857. This must be briefly alluded to, as it is
truly said, "Delhi is steeped in mutiny memories!"
Various causes have been assigned for this great mutiny of the Bengal
troops, but it was probably due in part to a season of unrest, some
minor event precipitating the crisis. The revolt occurred on May 10th,
at Meerut, forty miles distant; at first there were but twenty-five
hundred men, then other regiments joined them, and, on their arrival in
Delhi, they attacked the civil offices, and the inmates were compelled
to flee to the fort, where they were murdered.
The Fifty-fourth Regiment marched to the relief, but most of the
officers were shot, and the native soldiers refused to act,--a precedent
followed by the natives of other regiments; thus the rebels were largely
reinforced, and they soon had complete possession of the fort, which was
then well garrisoned by native officers who were thoroughly trained in
English tactics. The mutiny was now complete, and English rule for the
time being ceased; disturbances also spread to Agra, Cawnpore, and
Lucknow, so the army was necessarily divided; however, the bravery of
the British forces at Delhi was such that by May 20th the fort and
palace had been regained. The King was captured before Humayun's tomb
(outside the city), and, the King's sons surrendering, they were shot in
front of the Delhi gate of the fort. The victory, nevertheless, was only
won through the sacrifice of many lives, the loss of officers being
particularly heavy; the city also suffered greatly from the siege, and
the beauty of the fort and palace was much impaired.
[Illustration: _A gateway built during the seventeenth century in
Delhi_]
[Illustration: _The Pearl Mosque at Delhi_]
There are two fine gates to the fort,--the Lahore on the west side, and
the Delhi on the south side,--both built by Shah Jahan, between 1638 and
1648. The fort is encircled by a massive red sandstone wall; we passed
through the grand archway of the Lahore gate, into a vaulted arcade
which Mr. Ferguson (the famous authority on architecture) considers the
noblest entrance known to any palace. The arcade ends in the centre of
the outer main court, measuring five hundred and forty by three hundred
and sixty feet; the inner court is somewhat larger and is surrounded by
cloisters or galleries. On the farther side of this inner court is the
fine Hall of Public Audience, Diwan-i-Am, one hundred by sixty feet,
where the proportions and the arrangement of columns and arches are
perfect. At one end of this hall is a raised recess in which the Emperor
used to be seated on the famous Peacock Throne, which Nadir Shah carried
to Persia; before the throne, and lower, was the seat occupied by the
prime minister, while above it were placed the inlaid panels by Austin
of Bordeaux.
The hall was restored under the direction of the late viceroy, Lord
Curzon, and we saw Florentine artists renewing the inlaid work in the
panels. The remarkable throne was six feet long and four feet wide; it
stood on six massive feet, which, with the body of the chair, were of
solid gold, inlaid with rubies, emeralds, and diamonds. The throne took
its name from having the figures of two peacocks standing behind it,
their tails extended, and the whole so inlaid with sapphires, rubies,
pearls, emeralds, and diamonds as to be lifelike in its color. All this
was surmounted by a canopy of gold, and supported by twelve pillars,
richly emblazoned with gems, while a fringe of pearls ornamented the
edge of the canopy. There were still more costly adjuncts, but these
details must suffice; it is needless to add that the loss of the throne
was considered a national calamity.
A gate on one side of this hall led to the inner court of the palace,
and to the Hall of Private Audience, or Diwan-i-Khas, which is among the
most graceful assembly rooms in the world. It is ninety by sixty-seven
feet, and is built entirely of white marble, inlaid with precious
stones; at either end of the hall is the famous Persian inscription:
"If heaven can be on the face of the earth,
It is this, oh! it is this, oh! it is this!"
Not far removed from here are the royal apartments, consisting of three
suites of rooms, with an octagonal tower projecting over the river
Jumna. These rooms are all finely decorated. Beyond them are the Rang
Mahal, or Painted Palace,--the residence of the chief Sultana,--and the
royal baths, consisting of three large rooms fitted in white marble,
elaborately inlaid. Opposite to this is the Moti Musjid, or Pearl
Mosque.
[Illustration: _The Hall of Private Audience in the Palace, Delhi_]
[Illustration: _Jumma Musjid, Delhi_]
There are more buildings that could be described, but some were injured
at the time of the mutiny, and others have since been removed,
presumably in the interest of modern requirements.
We made our exit through the Delhi gate; between the inner and outer
arches stand the Chettar elephants which were replaced by order of Lord
Curzon. The Jumma Musjid is raised on a lofty basement; it has three
gateways, four corner towers, two lofty minarets, and three domes. We
ascended one of the towers and had an extended view; inside there is a
spacious quadrangle, three hundred and twenty-five feet square, in the
centre of which is a fountain for ablution; and on three sides there
are sandstone cloisters. An immense concourse of people assemble here
for prayer every Friday; the mosque in arrangement is very similar to
the congregational mosques of Cairo.
The Kalun Musjid, usually called Black Mosque, dates from 1386. It is of
peculiar construction, having two stories, and is somewhat Egyptian in
appearance. A Jain temple was so hemmed in by streets that its
appearance was much impaired, but the interior was beautiful in design
and finish.
The street known as Chandni Chauk fully sustained its reputation as a
shopping centre; it is over a mile in length and is always a scene of
sparkle and commotion; on it were the usual bazars, but also many larger
stores, as Delhi is considered the finest shopping point in India,
particularly in precious stones,--jewelry being the commodity most
heralded, as we learned to our sorrow.
On arriving at Maiden's Hotel (under English management, but
semi-Oriental in its arrangement), we complacently viewed our rooms on
the second floor, opening upon a gallery and overlooking a large court.
Here at last, so we thought, was a haven of refuge from jewelry
intruders, but, alas! we were no sooner located than they appeared,--not
the impecunious class, but dealers with shops and a bank
account,--bringing with them a vast array of really beautiful gems,
which were tempting but high-priced. To say that, on an average, three
of these men knocked at our door during the morning bath, while as many
were waiting for us at the luncheon hour, literally camping out on the
balcony during the evening hours, is no exaggeration. Then the cards
they presented, the insinuations they indulged in with regard to the
other man's goods (who was waiting outside)! It really was amusing, but
it grew tiresome, and was demoralizing, because one was compelled to
"bargain" if anything was purchased at all, the first scale of prices
being purposely exorbitant.
A day's visit to old Delhi was most interesting; it is a ride of eleven
miles to Kutub Minar, through sand and debris, comprising a portion of
an area of forty-seven miles, covered with the remains of seven, once
prosperous, cities. Several of the ruins were of interest, and they had
a history, but I will describe only the well-preserved mausoleum of
Emperor Humayun, which gains in importance from having been the model of
the Taj Mahal at Agra. It stands on a lofty platform of red sandstone,
and consists of a large central octagon, surmounted by a dome with
octagon towers at the angles; the red sandstone exterior is artistically
picked out in relief with white marble. The windows are recessed, and
the lower doors are filled with beautiful lattices of stone and marble.
In the centre of each side of the main octagon is a porch, forty feet
high, with a pronounced pointed arch. The cenotaph of the Emperor is of
white marble, without any inscription; his wife and several other
persons, including two later Emperors, are buried here also. As was
quite the custom of the time, the tomb is surrounded by a garden of
thirteen acres. Farther on, was the Tomb of a Saint, a perfect gem! It
is built of white marble, is eighteen feet square, and is surrounded by
a broad veranda. Around the covered grave there is a low marble rail,
and over it a beautiful canopy, inlaid with mother-of-pearl; in the
walls are finely pierced screens. Near this tomb is a handsome red
sandstone mosque, called Jumat Khana, and in the vicinity are a number
of other important tombs of artistic design, two having elaborately
carved marble doors, the design being like lacework.
The culmination of the morning's trip was at the Kutub Minar enclosure;
the magnificent ruined Mosque of Kuwat-ul-Islam occupies a large portion
of the space, and dates from the latter part of the twelfth century. The
main entrance was through an arched doorway, the courtyard was
surrounded by cloisters formed of pillars purloined from Jain temples
and piled one upon another. Most of them are richly ornamented, although
many have been defaced.
[Illustration: _The tomb of Emperor Humayun_]
The famous Hindu Iron Pillar stands in front of the ruin; it is one of
the most unique antiquities in India, and is a solid shaft of wrought
iron, twenty-three feet, eight inches high and sixteen inches in
diameter; it has a deeply cut Sanskrit inscription, and is so individual
in its character as to prove a distinct reminder of a decayed past.
The most prominent feature of the landscape is Kutub Minar, rightly
named the Tower of Victory. Some have thought it of Hindu origin, but
the now accepted opinion is that it was built by the Moguls, after the
conquest. It is two hundred and thirty-eight feet high, and has five
stories with balconies, each story being decorated with bands of
inscriptions. The first three stories are of red sandstone and are
fluted; the two upper stories are of white marble and have been
restored. The diameter of the first story is forty-seven feet, three
inches; that of the upper story, nine feet; three hundred and
seventy-nine steps lead to the summit, and ninety-five steps lead to the
first gallery, from both points of which we obtained a fine view of
ruins in every direction.
Tughlakabad lies five miles east of Kutub Minar; the fort is so high and
massive as to be seen long before the point is reached. The enclosure
covers nearly four miles and contains a ruined mosque and palace.
Outside the wall is the tomb of Tujlak Shah; it is situated in an
artificial lake, and is connected with the fort by a causeway, six
hundred feet long and supported on twenty-seven arches.
Of this tomb Mr. Ferguson says: "The sloping walls and almost Egyptian
solidity of this mausoleum, combined with the bold and massive towers of
the fortifications that surround it, form a picture of a warrior's tomb
unrivalled anywhere."
The day's experience included luncheon at a "rest house" near Kutub
Minar; this term applies to a simple semi-hotel, provided by the
Government for the convenience of members of the military and civil
service and their families; it is situated in places where there are no
hotel facilities, and, when unoccupied, the public may share in the
convenience.
The long, intensely dusty ride to Delhi,[2] past ruin after ruin, gave
us leisure to reflect on the ravages of time and the mutability of all
earthly things.
[Illustration: _Northern colonnade of the Islam mosque, showing ruined
arch_]
Another afternoon drive about Delhi revealed new points of interest,
including some which are associated with the mutiny, such as the Ridge
where the British troops were stationed and from which a fine view is
afforded; Flagstaff Tower, where the women and children were assembled
on May 11, 1857; and the very inadequate Mutiny Memorial Monument,
erected to commemorate the heroic deeds of the officers and soldiers who
fell during the summer of 1857.
But the scene that will linger longest in my memory is the panorama of
the massive walls, towers, gateways, and the half-ruined palace. Then,
one can hardly forget the Pearl Mosque, which is of such rare beauty as
to prove a fitting memorial to the "Great Builder," Shah Jahan; the
latter has a prototype in modern times,--none other than Ludwig II of
Bavaria, whose palaces also linger in the memory as a dream of beauty.
* * * * *
AGRA, _December 18th_: No one can visit Delhi and Agra without being
impressed by the rulers of the golden period of the Mogul Empire, the
great Akbar standing forth prominently as a wise potentate and the
strongest personality in Indian history, certainly in Central India. His
son, Jahangir, was not his equal, but his mantle of power seems to have
descended to his grandson, Shah Jahan, who, like him, was famed in the
matter of building, as we have seen at Delhi, and furthermore were to
see at Agra, our next point of observation. We arrived on the afternoon
of December 18th and proceeded to the Hôtel Metropole.
As the train approached the city, we caught a glimpse of that
incomparable creation, the Taj Mahal, and were immediately under its
spell, so we at once took carriages and were conveyed there. As we drew
near, the massive, finely proportioned gateway burst upon us. The
entrance is of red sandstone, with Moorish arches and pavilions, while a
wall of masonry, with turreted corners, encircles the grounds. At the
centre of the two adjacent sides are gateways of similar construction to
the entrance. One is, however, unprepared for the white-domed vision
beyond, which at once inspired admiration and awe. The first view was at
sunset, and the atmosphere was filled with a golden haze that rested
lovingly on the graceful turrets and dome. We lingered on to catch the
moonlight effect, and as the twilight faded and the outlines became
shadowy, there was a peculiar illusion, which was heightened by the
first glimmering silvery light, soon to be succeeded by a full radiance
which illumined the white marble pile and the whole environment. We sat
spellbound amidst the loveliness of the scene; no one spoke, and this
silent tribute of respect was shared by other "lookers on."
[Illustration: _Kutub Minar, the Tower of Victory in Old Delhi_]
Our last visit was in the full effulgence of the morning, when we were
able to obtain new points of view, and to visit the adjacent red
sandstone mosque, as well as the corresponding opposite edifice (which
is an audience room). Some of the party crossed the river Jumna, which
runs back of the grounds, so as to see the reflection of the Taj in the
water. No words of mine can fitly describe the impression, but figures
sometimes aid the imagination. The foundation is three hundred and
thirteen feet square and eighteen feet in height, and the edifice itself
is one hundred and eighty-six feet square, with a dome rising to the
height of two hundred and twenty feet. At each corner of the foundation
stands a tall, graceful minaret, one hundred and thirty-seven feet in
height. Add to this the statement that it took twenty thousand men
seventeen years to complete the work, at a cost variously estimated at
from $17,000,000 to $20,000,000, and you may form an idea of the
delicate workmanship and artistic skill which the Taj represents. But
simplicity is, after all, the keynote, and there is also a rare
personality in its outlines reflecting feminine grace. This is
distinctly felt when viewing the cenotaph (the real tomb is in a crypt
below), which is, like the entire edifice, built of the whitest of
marble and decorated with rare, beautiful designs, while the screen
which encloses the cenotaph of the Queen is also of marble, carved in a
lacework design of exquisite beauty.
The diamonds, pearls, rubies, and other precious stones which once
embellished this and every other part of the edifice, were taken away by
ruthless invaders of India; and their places filled by colored stones
with little loss of effect. Shah Jahan's cenotaph lies unenclosed at the
left, showing that it was not included in the original plan. Indeed, it
had been the intention of Shah Jahan to build for himself a mausoleum,
of corresponding style, yet of dark marble, across the river Jumna; the
shadow which rested on his later life prevented the idea from being
carried out. But the creation of this tribute to all womanhood typified
in his beloved wife is a monument which time cannot efface. Arjamand
Banu Begum was a Persian princess of rare beauty and of great personal
charm. She died in giving birth to her eighth child, and through all the
years had held the supreme place in Shah Jahan's life; despite the
Oriental custom of having other wives, she had won for herself the title
of Mumtaz-i-Mahal, "The exalted of the Palace." Hence the Eastern habit
of placing a mausoleum in a garden was peculiarly fitting for so
peerless a queen; in this instance it forms a perfect setting for the
Taj.
[Illustration: _Gateway leading to Taj Mahal_]
[Illustration: _Taj Mahal_]
[Illustration: _Screen in Taj Mahal_]
[Illustration: _Shah Jahan and his wife in whose memory the Taj was
built_]
The garden was redeemed from a hopeless tangle (into which it had
fallen), under the direction of Lord Curzon, who did so much to stay
ruin and devastation. It is laid out in a conventional style, one square
being devoted to roses, another to poinsettia, while long stretches of
foliage plants here and there, with a mass of dark green cypress trees,
give it a breadth of view that is enhanced by a marble avenue, leading
from the entrance to the tombs, the sweep of avenue being broken midway
by a marble seat from which a fine view of the Taj is afforded. Running
parallel were marble aqueducts which contained, at set intervals,
playing fountains; these were inactive, however, at the time of our
visits. One could return to the Taj day after day, as the subtle
influence of its beauty and its spiritual significance are ever present.
Sad indeed was the fate of the builder, Shah Jahan, who ruled from 1620
to 1658 and who was then deposed by his son, Aurangzeb. The latter
transferred the capital to Delhi, causing his father to languish seven
long years in a small suite of rooms in the palace at Agra as a
prisoner, his only companion a devoted daughter.
While the centre of attraction in Agra is the Taj Mahal, the fort,
palace, and Moti Musjid (Pearl Mosque) are of equal interest. Here we
see the impress of three rulers, Akbar (the grandson of the noted Mogul
king, Baber, and son of Humayun, both of whom lived at Agra), Jahangir,
his son, and Shah Jahan, his grandson.
Akbar removed to Agra, from the old capital Fatehpur-Sikri, about 1568,
but the only monuments that are now attributed to him are the massive
walls of the fort and the red palace. Jahangir built the palace which
bears his name, but as it is somewhat gloomy in appearance, his chief
claims to distinction as a builder are the tombs of Itimid-ud-Daulah and
Akbar's tomb at Sikandra. Shah Jahan built the palace which contains the
beautiful Diwan-i-Am, or Hall of Public Audience; the Diwan-i-Khas, or
Hall of Private Audience; the Shish Mahal, or Mirror Palace; the
Saman-Burj, known as the Octagon, or Jasmine Tower; the Mina Musjid, or
Gem Palace (the private mosque of the Emperor); with many other notable
edifices. The Moti Musjid, or Pearl Mosque, is furnished with a superb
exterior setting.
Having described similar halls in the palace at Delhi, I will only
briefly enumerate some distinguishing features of each of the buildings
just mentioned. All were either injured or defaced in the mutiny
conflict of 1857, which raged in Agra from May 10th to October 10th, six
thousand women and children, with a few men, having found a refuge there
during the siege. A feature of the Public Audience Room is a grille in
the back wall, through which the Sultanas or members of the Zenana could
watch the proceedings below; and in the centre of the hall is a
raised alcove of white marble, richly decorated in low relief.
[Illustration: _Agra Palace and part of wall and gateway to the fort_]
[Illustration: _An Octagon Tower of the Agra Palace_]
The Hall of Private Audience consists of an open colonnade in front of
an enclosed room at the back. The illustration shows the front
overlooking the court, while beyond is the Octagon Tower, the residence
of the chief Sultana. In the court a portion of the marble pavement is
made to represent a pachisi or chess board, and it is said the game was
played with slave girls, who were used instead of the customary
chessmen. The Octagon Tower is built out over the river Jumna, as will
be seen in a later picture.
The portion known as the Mirror Palace is unique, as it consists of two
dark rooms furnished with fountains and an artificial cascade arranged
to fall over lighted lamps. The walls and ceilings are decorated with
innumerable small mirrors which were restored in 1875. The palace
measures seventy by forty feet, and is built at the east end of a garden
two hundred and fifty feet square, planted with flowers and shrubs.
Underneath the structure are subterranean apartments for use during the
summer heat, and from here passages lead to still cooler rooms in
another portion of the fort.
In the southeast corner of this Anguri Bagh, or garden, are three finely
decorated rooms which were once the private apartments of Shah Jahan.
The Jahangir Mahal, or palace, is noticeable on account of the bright
red tiles used in the upper portion. It also has a fine domed hall which
leads into a large central court.
But the crowning single feature in this fort (which is over a mile in
extent) is the Moti Musjid, or Pearl Mosque. Mr. Ferguson considers it
to be "one of the purest and most elegant buildings of its class to be
found in the world." It ranks next to the Taj Mahal among Shah Jahan's
creations. The entrance gateway is of red sandstone and is approached by
a lofty double staircase. The exterior is faced with slabs of red
sandstone, but the interior is built of marble, white, blue, and gray
veined. The courtyard of the mosque is deservedly celebrated. In the
centre is a marble tank for ablutions, and a marble cloister runs around
three of its sides. A flight of steps leads to the roof of the mosque,
from which a fine view is obtained.[3]
[Illustration: _The Pearl Mosque_]
[Illustration: _Akbar's tomb in Sikandra_]
A pleasant excursion across the river led us to the tasteful tomb of
Itimid-ud-Daulah. The entrance gate is fine, and the approach through
spacious, well-kept grounds gives one a wide perspective. The façade is
of marble with considerable inlaid work. Itimid-ud-Daulah was a Persian
High Treasurer, and the grandfather of the Lady of the Taj. The tomb was
built by Shah Jahangir, as was that of King Akbar at Sikandra, five
miles distant from Agra and a delightful excursion to make. It has an
imposing gateway and is situated in the midst of a veritable park. It is
of red sandstone, inlaid with white marble, and is a pyramidal building,
four stories high, the first three being of red sandstone and the fourth
of marble. The base measures three hundred and twenty feet, and the
fourth story one hundred and fifty-seven feet (narrow stairways leading
upward), which indicates a gradual decrease and tapering in size. A
massive cloister runs around the lower story, and the fourth story is
occupied by the marble cenotaph of Akbar, directly over the crypt which
contains his tomb. The cenotaph is engraved with ninety-nine names of
the deity. This story is surrounded by a white marble cloister, and on
the outer side of each arch is an oval-shaped recess, filled with
delicate lacework carving of varied patterns in marble. The effect is
unlike anything elsewhere seen. There are several other historic tombs
in the vicinity, and many points of interest all the way to Akbar's old
capital, Fatehpur-Sikri. This is twenty-two miles distant, a day's
excursion, and easily reached in automobiles; although it took some
faith to trust one's self to the rather indifferent chauffeurs.
* * * * *
FATEHPUR-SIKRI: This royal but long-destroyed city is sacred to the
memory of the Emperor Akbar, who built a gorgeous structure and selected
the site through the advice of the renowned Saint Selim Chisti. He
eventually abandoned it on account of its unhealthy location, and
transferred the capital to Agra, where, as we have seen, he built a fort
and the red palace. There is an unusually imposing gateway on one side
of Fatehpur-Sikri, leading up to the mosque, but we made our entrance
from the adjacent side; hence our first view was like that in the
illustration. A large, five-story building to the left served as a
recreation place for the ladies of the court, while back and to the left
of this was seen the beautiful dome of the mosque, said to be almost a
counterpart of the one at Mecca. So many and varied are the buildings in
this fort that it is inexpedient to do more than allude briefly to them.
The three palaces of the Sultanas are notable for their beauty, variety,
and wealth of ornament, the Sultanas being Miriam, the Portuguese
Christian; Rakinah, Akbar's cousin; and the Turkish Sultana. The Emperor
also has a suite of several rooms. The palace of Birbal, Akbar's prime
minister, is, architecturally, the most perfect of any in the enclosure
and was built for his daughter. The rooms allotted to the Zenana are
spacious. Near the recreation building is the famous pachisi or chess
board, similar to the one at Agra, where Akbar and his vizier, sitting
opposite, marshalled the slave girls to and fro.
[Illustration: _General view of Fatehpur-Sikri_]
The plan of the mosque is unusual in its construction, and so is the
massive gateway. Passing through the latter, an exquisite monument
presents itself in the tomb of Selim Chisti, the venerable hermit saint,
who lived a retired existence in a cave and yet who was the controlling
force in Akbar's life. The place is simple, and displays such delicacy
of skill in its composition as to excite admiration. It is surrounded by
a beautiful white marble lattice-work screen, ornamented with brass, and
the canopy over the tomb of the saint is inlaid with mother-of-pearl.
The photograph is very effective, but, like many others, it has to be
omitted (I have five hundred scenes of the tour). The public audience
room is encompassed by cloisters. There is a treasury, a mint, a record
office, and a building with three large rooms known as the Minchauli
Anch, which is said to be the place where the Emperor played
hide-and-seek with the ladies of the court; this is probably an
erroneous statement.
The most unusual building is the Diwan-i-Khas, the council chamber. From
the outside it seems to be two stories high, yet there is really but one
story with a large central pillar which is surrounded by an immense
circular capital. From this radiates four stone causeways to the
corners of the room; these are enclosed by an open trellis with stone
balustrades. The shaft of the pillar is finely carved, and all is in
perfect condition, due to careful restoration. It is said that the
Emperor sat in the centre of the pillar when he held a council, while
the four advisers sat in the corners. Stone staircases lead to the roof,
where a glimpse of the whole enclosure is afforded. A novel view is
obtained down a stone-paved roadway, leading to a large court, at the
north end of which is the deer minaret, or circular tower, seventy feet
high, decorated with protruding elephants' tusks in stone. From the
lanterns at the top, the Emperor is said to have shot antelopes drawn
under the column by beaters employed for that special purpose.
Reading between the lines, one learns that Akbar was a very peculiar
character, domineering and despotic, yet generous to the immediate
members of his household and to his favorite courtiers,--he was very
cruel, however, when they displeased him; very broad in his religious
views; and although a devoted Mohammedan, he was tolerant of all
religions, and there are accounts of religious discussions taking place,
in which every shade of belief was represented. He decreed that his
daughters should all marry Hindu princes.
[Illustration: _A column in the Audience Hall (Diwan-i-Khas)_]
Our guide told us that formerly there were underground passages and
apartments, but he did not state, as did another guide to a party of
tourists at Agra, that these apartments were for the disciplining and
torturing of the members of the Zenana and even of his wives. Taking
into consideration the attention he gave to the comfort and pleasure of
the ladies of the court, as seen in the palaces and the large recreation
building extant, this statement appears inconsistent, and so it is
necessary to give him the benefit of the doubt. The "auto" ride back to
Agra was accomplished without any broken limbs, and another red-letter
day was ended.
Before leaving Agra one should either visit the Taj Mahal for a final
look, or, from the Jasmine Tower of the palace, gaze through the
intervening two miles of space to catch its shadowy outline as seen by
Shah Jahan during those seven solitary years of vigil. I chose the
latter method for convenience' sake, after visiting the bazars, and in
consequence was rewarded with a never-to-be-forgotten view.
Delhi and Agra are indissolubly connected by their rulers and by
historical events; in leaving them one feels as if never again would so
much of unique interest be presented in the line of architectural skill
and poetic sentiment.
* * * * *
CAWNPORE, _December 24th_: We took a night train from Agra to Cawnpore,
arriving there early on the morning of December 24th and stopping over
a few hours to break the journey. Cawnpore is full of mutiny memories,
and we visited some of the historic points, going first to the Ghat
(steps) where cruel Nana Sahib burned, or murdered, a boatload of
Englishmen; also to other scenes of horror. Then we went to the memorial
well, and to the memorial church with its peaceful interior, which was
being decorated with greens in true English fashion, for the service of
the morrow, when "Peace and good will to men" would ring out, and for
the time being mutiny memories would be forgotten. We drove to the park,
where, as an accessory to a certain artistic building, there is to be
seen an exquisite angel of carved marble, a memorial erected by the
Government. Next, we visited some bazars of no special interest.
* * * * *
LUCKNOW, _December 24th_: After luncheon, we took the train for Lucknow.
On the way, Murray's "Lucknow" was re-read, and another mutiny chapter
added. Lucknow is the capital of the province of Oudh. In 1813 the
English conferred the title of king on the ruler, but, for reasons of
distrust, withdrew it in 1856, and at the same time discharged eighty
thousand high-caste soldiers,--an action which produced instant
dissatisfaction and was one of the direct causes for the mutiny. We
arrived at Wutzler's Royal Hotel in the late afternoon, and felt
gladdened by the comfort and good cheer that awaited us,--a hopeful sign
inasmuch as the morrow was Christmas Day. A drive to Wingfield Park and
a visit to an exquisite tomb mosque ended the sight-seeing day.
[Illustration: _Jasmine Tower and distant view of the Taj_]
[Illustration: _The ghat at Cawnpore_]
Christmas without the usual morning service seemed peculiar, but the law
of the majority in our party prevailed, and we drove instead to the Fort
and Residency, the centre of interest since 1857. The awe and solemnity
inspired by that visit, with the Christmas bells ever and anon breaking
the silence, can never be forgotten. The Residency is situated in the
centre of a large park which was the scene of a siege lasting from July
1 to November 17, 1857, three thousand men, women, and children, besides
the military, being there for safety. The number of refugees was reduced
to one thousand by September; the large rooms on the ground floor of the
Government building, with two stories above and extensive subterranean
rooms, made their stay possible, but involved great suffering and
horrible death as the siege went on. The large banquet hall of the
Residency near by was converted into a hospital. Both buildings are now
in ruins. But the roofless Residency with a tangle of vines (and a
decrepit stairway that leads upward) furnishes a fine view of the whole
scene, which in its very quietness bespeaks bravery, endurance, and
heroic suffering.
The buildings of Lucknow are not important, with the exception of the
Jumma Musjid, the great Imambara with its fine gateway, court, and
arcades. The Imambara Mosque has two minarets, and the great Imambara
Hall, one hundred and sixty-three by fifty-three feet and forty-nine
feet high, is one of the largest vaulted galleries in the world. The
palaces of the late king of Oudh, the clock tower and other mosques and
tombs, were visited, for, as usual, the persistent guide insisted on our
seeing all the "sights" (exaggerating the descriptions, it always
seemed, in proportion to their lack of importance), and it was "Memsahib
this" and "Memsahib that." Christmas Day, with a June temperature, soon
came to a close; the dinner was somewhat English in its many
appointments, with its roast beef and plum pudding,--other home touches
being added by our ever-thoughtful Director. There was good cheer, but
we silently thought of home and the friends far away.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _The Residency at Lucknow_]
BENARES, _December 26th_: Benares is the sacred city of India, and the
river Ganges with the ghats is the point where thousands upon thousands
of worshippers congregate, coming from every point where Hinduism
prevails. We had anticipated revolting scenes, and were not
disappointed, as the superstition of the devotees, the grasping conduct
of the priests, and the disgusting practices in the name of so-termed
religion all contributed to that end. We arrived during the afternoon of
December 26th, going to the Hôtel de Paris. A drive was instantly
proposed, and we were taken to the Maharaja's palace, with grounds laid
out conventionally, the trees and shrubs representing peacocks and
animals of different kinds. The palace was spacious but tawdrily
furnished; it is noteworthy as being the home to which the Maharaja and
his family repair whenever they feel the approach of death; there is a
superstition among the Hindus that death must occur on the north bank of
the sacred river Ganges, in order to become a monkey after death
(monkeys are considered sacred); for if the demise occurs on the
opposite side of the Ganges, one would surely become a donkey.
We next turned toward the celebrated Monkey Temple, a pretentious but
inartistic structure of red sandstone, presided over by the monster wife
of Siva, the Goddess Kali, who is seated on an interior shrine and
almost terrifies the beholder by her demoniacal smile, her neck being
wreathed with skulls. The Goddess of Blood demands a daily sacrifice,
usually a goat and sometimes even a buffalo. At least twenty
terrible-looking priests were in attendance upon her when we arrived and
were ready to slay the inoffensive goat if money was forthcoming. We,
however, declined to witness such a spectacle. Monkeys, disgustingly old
and fat, were everywhere, and filled large trees surrounding the temple,
two hundred at least being visible. Beggars, mendicants, and priests
were abundantly in evidence.
In an attempt to throw some small coins to some children, I was nearly
crushed, the crowd closing around me and separating me from my party,
until a tall Brahman priest with a huge stick checked the mob and I
escaped, to be admonished by the Director of the party, who declared
that I must never repeat the experiment, however much my sympathies
might be drawn upon by the scenes that impressed me.
[Illustration: _Bathing ghat, Benares_]
[Illustration: _Burning ghat, Benares, where cremations occur_]
The following morning we proceeded at 7 A.M. to the scene of all others
in Benares, the bathing ghats. These are steps leading down from the
plateau to the river on the banks of the Ganges and extending a distance
of nearly three miles. Seated in a native small boat, we sailed
leisurely up and down for hours, watching the unusual spectacle. The
Brahman priests were everywhere (there being thirty thousand in Benares
who live on the offerings of the pilgrims), some seated under
umbrella-like canopies, some under tents, others bathing, and others
performing certain sacred offices for the devotees who had come hither
in state, on elephants or camels, by train or on foot, all intent on
securing an increase of religious zeal. The crowds bathing in the sacred
river are a continuous spectacle. There are piers built out into the
stream for convenience, filled with pilgrims of every hue and variety of
dress and undress, some simply wearing the loin cloth, which startled us
at first, but now seemed the legitimate outcome of a lean purse and a
hot climate.
In addition, there is a continuous refrain of voices in solemn
supplication to one or more of the many thousands of Hindu gods, for it
has been stated that there are two hundred thousand divinities in India.
At one point there is a burning ghat, and one morning we witnessed the
preparation for two cremations, one of a poor man and the other of the
wife of a Maharaja. The two ceremonies differed little, except that the
wood for the funeral pile of one cost a mere pittance, while the
sandalwood for the latter cost six hundred rupees. The corpse is carried
on a small litter, or bier, made of bamboo sticks (a man is robed in
white and a woman in red), and deposited in the Ganges, feet foremost;
care is taken that the whole body be immersed in order that purification
may be complete. The relatives arrange the pile of wood, about eight
logs being required. Then the body is transferred to the pyre, and the
torch is applied by one of the family, the others sitting solemnly
around in a circle. When consumed, the ashes are scattered in the river
Ganges. It is a gruesome spectacle, however much it may be in the
interest of sanitary science; but less so to me, who had witnessed the
distribution of the bodies at the Towers of Silence in Bombay.
It will be seen that the principal commodity in Benares is holiness; but
there is one creditable industry, namely, the manufacture of brass.
Several shops were visited, but we liked the modern styles less than the
old Benares brass with which we were familiar.
One thought was uppermost while in Benares; I had pondered over it
before in our visit to India. It was that with the masses Hinduism
to-day means superstition and idolatry, in spite of the fact that the
earlier teaching was of a pure character. That the cultivated Hindus
accept the practices and the priesthood is a mystery as subtle as the
law of caste or the iron law of custom. It is a depressing thought, and
causes a profound feeling of thankfulness that Providence placed us in a
fairer land.
[Illustration: _The Tope of Sarnath and the Jain Temple near Benares_]
The missionary effort of England, America, and other countries has for
years been directed toward changing the condition of the masses, but the
law of caste is such that, to use a set phrase, if a man become a
Christian, he is ostracized, even by the members of his own family,
unless they too follow his example. He is also ostracized as regards any
business he may follow, and the sacrifice he is forced to undergo seems
almost too great for human endurance. Still, according to missionary
reports, this sacrifice is frequently made, which is equivalent to true
heroism. Naturally, the progress of proselyting is slower in India than
in any other country of the Orient, but it is the consensus of opinion
that a greater extension of hospitals in charge of so-termed
missionaries and a greater extension of schools for the young are the
leaven that will work satisfactory results in the future. Another
reassuring sign is the establishment of the Central Hindu College at
Benares by Mrs. A.B. Besant, the Theosophist. This is intended to
elevate the Hindu youth, combining religious and moral education with
mental and athletic development. We saw only the exterior of the
building.
Four miles from Benares, at the site of the old Benares, called Sarnath,
is a most interesting ancient monument known as the Tope of Sarnath. It
is the best preserved of any in Bengal. It was erected in Deer Park to
mark the spot sanctified by the presence of Buddha. It was explored in
1835 and found to be a stupa; but containing no relics, it was evidently
intended to indicate the spot where Buddha first assumed his mission as
a teacher. The tope consists of a stone basement ninety-three feet in
diameter and solidly built of stone. Above the stone is brickwork rising
to a height of one hundred and twenty feet from the plain. The lower
story has niches evidently intended for a figure of Buddha, and below
this is a band of sculptured ornaments of great beauty; it is thought
from the evidences of ornamentation that in date it corresponds to the
best period of Delhi. There is an interesting temple in the vicinity,
and there formerly was a large Buddhist monastery. One also finds acres
of mounds and debris indicating a large Buddhist foundation in the days
when Buddha reigned supreme.
We left Benares for Darjeeling the evening of December 27th, and the
prospect of a glimpse of mountain scenery in the famed Himalaya
foothills, eight thousand feet above the sea, was exhilarating after the
depressing scenes behind us.
* * * * *
SILIGURI, _December 28th_: We arrived at Siliguri early the following
morning, December 28th, and were at once transferred to the Darjeeling
and Himalayan Railway (two-foot gauge with open cars), a triumph of
engineering skill on account of the sudden and wonderful curves which
continue from the beginning to the end and cause the famous Horseshoe
Curve of the Pennsylvania Railway to sink into insignificance. The
ride was exciting, as every bend revealed something new and startling.
Leaving the plain of Bengal behind us, which is a feature of interest,
we commenced the ascent; first through a jungle of cane and grass, both
very high, where tigers, leopards, bears, deer, and the like have their
home; and next through a forest with few familiar trees save the giant
oak. Higher up the graceful bamboo is seen, and still higher fruit trees
are plentiful; then small tea plantations appear, and a more peaceful
landscape. Another bold curve and the glorious snow-capped Kanchanjanga
range is in full view,--a perfect panorama, the atmosphere being clear
and the sky almost cloudless. It was one of the supreme moments of life.
We were now nearing Darjeeling, having made a gradual descent during the
last half-hour.
[Illustration: _A view of Darjeeling and the Kanchanjanga Range_]
* * * * *
DARJEELING, _December 28th_: The Woodlands Hotel, picturesquely situated
on the side of a lesser mountain, became our abiding-place for all too
short a time. Darjeeling is beautifully located upon a ridge, seven
thousand feet above water level. The mountain side is picturesque with
its sprinkling of villas and bungalows, tall mountains towering up as a
background. The average temperature is eighty degrees in summer and
thirty in winter; hence it is a favorite resort. There is a sanitarium
here, called "The Eden." The mountain views prove a great attraction;
the Kanchanjanga range is seen beyond the intervening mountains, with a
vast chasm in the foreground.
The Mall is the principal promenade, and winds around Observatory Hill,
from which fine glimpses of the country are to be obtained. In the
vicinity is St. Andrew's Church, with interesting tablets, and near by
the summer residence of the Lieutenant-Governor of Bengal.
We were admonished to hurry our luncheon in order not to lose the
opportunity of seeing the celebrated bazar of which we had heard so
much, even in Bombay. I do not refer to the regular street bazar, but to
a bazar at which crowds of peasants from different provinces congregate
once a week for the sale of silver and turquoise jewelry, which is
mostly exhibited on their persons, supplemented by a small bundle which
is carried; but the transactions are very primitive and unlike those at
any other bazar. Then there are the quaint things they wear,--artistic
chatelaines with articles generally suspended and thrown over the
shoulder, instead of worn around the waist, immense earrings,
finger-rings, bracelets, and anklets; also large round silver pins for
the hair, suspended between two long ornaments resembling an elongated
corkscrew--all linked together with a narrow black ribbon tied in a
bow. The wearing of this latter head ornament was very grotesque, and I
bought one taken from the hair of a peasant, besides purchasing some
other articles which now serve as a reminder of the quaint scene. The
dress of the men, women, and children was peculiar, and varied according
to their province, such as Bhutias, Tibetans, Nepalese, Pelaris,
Ghorkas, and others.
[Illustration: _A Nepaulese group_]
Their shrewd faces were illuminated with smiles as they realized the
success of a bargain which was doubtless far in excess of the value of
the article purchased; or failing of a bargain their persistent attempts
to secure one were amusing. As we walked around through the motley
crowd, powerless to express ourselves except in the universal language
of pantomime, with mountains all around us and the Kanchanjanga still in
view, we felt as though we were a part of a play, it seemed so unreal.
Later we visited the street bazars, all of them furnished with articles
claimed to be antique. In the evening the proprietor of the hotel gave
us an interesting description of scenes in Tibet, illustrated with
lantern views.
The cold of late December now became intense, and it required some
courage to be called at three o'clock in the morning for an expedition
to Tiger Hill to see the sun rise. A half-hour after, nevertheless, saw
our departure, and you would have smiled at the spectacle I presented,
seated in a chair with six bearers (two for a relay), rugs and cushions
piled around me, the crowning feature being a red blanket which, at the
last moment, one of the bearers draped around my shoulders. It was
moonlight when we left the valley. The view of each mountain and gorge
was marvellous, so unlike daylight, as the moon ever throws elusive
shadows about all things it touches. Before we reached our destination,
the first streak of dawn was faintly outlined against the horizon, as if
heralding the approach of some great spectacle, which soon came in
shades of gold and pink; then bursting forth like a great ball of fire
which illuminated the whole scene, even the distant Kanchanjanga range
being suffused with a pinkish glow. We held our breath and were
thankful, for the guide had told us that a perfect sunrise was a rare
occurrence. Mount Everest, 29,002 feet high, eighty miles distant, and
the highest peak in the world, as usual was but dimly seen. After the
excitement of the morning, the hot coffee and rolls which were provided
for us proved most acceptable. We lingered on for a half-hour, amused
that even above the clouds human nature is the same, as every bearer
produced rings or other trinkets for our inspection and possible
purchase. The descent was made in the blinding sunlight, and indeed it
was so warm that we laid aside our blankets, and we noted the different
aspects which all Nature wore.
A nine-o'clock breakfast followed, and we were ready for other
experiences. The descent to Siliguri was not unlike the ascent, with the
view reversed. A night train conveyed us to Sara Ghat, where we arrived
early in the morning and were taken across the river Ganges to
Dumonkdeah, where we took a train for Calcutta, one hundred and sixteen
miles distant.
* * * * *
CALCUTTA, _December 31st_: There is, in a certain sense, a link between
Benares and Calcutta; the latter is situated on the Hooghly River, which
is an outlet of the river Ganges, but no resemblance exists between
India's modern winter capital and the city of superstition. We arrived
in Calcutta on December 31st, and repaired to the Strand Hotel. An
afternoon drive to Eden Park proved delightful, and on every side we saw
attractive surroundings.
January 1st dawned brightly, and found us at 7 A.M. driving to the fine
esplanade, called "The Maidan," and extending two miles. We were on our
way to witness the great annual military review by the Viceroy, now Lord
Minto. Presentation Day is the term here applied to New Year's Day. It
was a gala occasion indeed, and the equipages of the rich, and the
smaller vehicles of all descriptions, encircled the barrier that
intervened between the spectators and those who were to furnish the
display. There were also hundreds on foot, some of them in the brilliant
native dress of various colors, with their many-hued turbans. This was
specially noticeable in the livery of many of the native carriages,
where gold trimmings were profuse, and the same scheme was carried out
in the dress of the two coachmen and two footmen, the latter being
called _syces_. The militia presented a splendid appearance, and the
infantry marched with the greatest precision, but the cavalry, as usual,
carried off the honors as regards spectacular display, particularly the
native cavalry with their picturesque dress. Lord Minto and his aides
were elegantly decked in their accoutrements and elicited much cheering.
We returned for a nine-thirty breakfast, and left afterwards for a
sight-seeing expedition, having been warned not to expect much in this
line at Calcutta. St. Paul's Cathedral--English--was interesting on
account of the many memorials and statues, one of Bishop Heber having
much merit. Fort William and the grounds of the Government House, the
Dalhousie Club, the Black Hole, and other points were also visited.
[Illustration: _The Government House in Calcutta_]
The Black Hole is so often mentioned in connection with Calcutta that a
few words of explanation seem necessary. It was at the time of the
siege of Calcutta in 1756 a small room in the barracks, twenty-two by
fourteen feet in size, and sixteen feet in height. One hundred human
beings were crowded into it on the night of June 20th, and there were
only twenty-three survivors in the morning. A memorial obelisk was
erected by one of these survivors, and this was restored by order of
Lord Curzon.
The Imperial Museum is a very large building and has extensive
geological and archæological departments. It also possesses a fine
library.
We omitted the burning ghat, remembering the one at Benares, but a Hindu
temple revealed another repulsive goddess, Kali, and the sacrifice of
the goat had just occurred. The river front has a ghat for bathing.
A drive to the distant Botanical Gardens proved of much interest, and
the largest banyan tree in the world was there displayed, having four
hundred and sixty-four aerial branches and covering over an acre in
extent; there were also long avenues of palms.
Lacking the fine harbor of Bombay, Calcutta is still a city of great
commercial importance and of many natural attractions and fine public
buildings. It is, however, a place of decided contrasts, imposing
streets of residences being not far distant from as wretched a native
quarter as may be seen in any other Indian city. To the casual tourist
Calcutta seems a large English city (eight hundred thousand
inhabitants), especially so in the life on the Maidan, the centre of
attraction and fashion. Eden Park is also greatly frequented, and the
race-course is the finest in India; but, notwithstanding, Calcutta has
not the charm of Bombay. The Strand Hotel gave us an elaborate menu for
our New Year's dinner, which was supplemented by flowers and bonbons,
and we all voted the occasion, even if in a foreign land, a success. And
so I link Lucknow and Calcutta together in the holiday column of my
memory.
I have before alluded to the sad, dejected faces of the natives of North
India; the Bengali seemed a trifle more melancholy, as is their
reputation. We did not regret our departure, although it meant the loss
of our faithful Indian guide, Dalle, and our travelling servant, Jusef,
both with their long India bordered shawls artistically thrown over one
shoulder, and their high white turbans rolled round and round the head,
the finishing touch being a tall conical ornament that stood up in the
centre. This is significant of their territorial province, styles of
turbans varying with the locality. The early hour of 6 A.M. found us
departing on the British and India line for a steamer trip of three
days, Rangoon being our destination.
[Illustration: _An avenue of palms in the Botanical Gardens_]
The trip was restful, but afforded little variety, and we hailed our
arrival at Rangoon with delight early on the morning of January 6th. By
a late decision we concluded to go on at once to Mandalay and leave
Rangoon to be visited on our return. Taking a train at noon, we were
favored by journeying in _de luxe_ cars, sacred to the use of high
officials, and so complete in equipment as to include bathroom,
shower-bath, and other conveniences. The afternoon ride was through a
fertile country, rice and bananas being the principal products. The rice
crop had been garnered, and piles of bags were ready at every station
for shipment to Rangoon (the amount shipped is two hundred thousand tons
annually). Later we visited a field where rice was being harvested. It
is not unlike wheat in the sheaf, but smaller. The country process after
cutting is first to pound the rice, and then winnow it so as to remove
the hull; this is done by throwing it in the air, by means of a round
flat plate with a handle. Machinery is used in the cities.
* * * * *
BURMA: We were now far from the centre of things, in a remote corner of
Southeastern Asia, hidden in the midst of mountains, which were for ages
the safeguard against Indian invaders and the aggression of China.
Proselyting Buddhists, however, found their way from India and brought
civilization with them.
There is a great diversity of races in Burma, various foreign tribes
having come there and remained, making a mixed population. There are now
about sixty thousand Palaings wearing the Chin dress. The Kachins, a
warlike people, formerly made raids on the Burmans who lived on the
border of China, the Chins dwelling among the hills. The Karens are
numerically the strongest and live in the delta of the Irrawaddy. They
had been an oppressed people, but achieved their liberty under British
rule, and it is estimated that one hundred thousand abjured Buddhism and
became Christians. The Chins are the oldest, having come from China two
thousand years ago.
Southern Burma was under British rule before the middle of the
nineteenth century, but it is only since January, 1886, that England has
controlled Northern Burma. King Thebaw's downfall was caused by his
numerous cruel acts to foreigners, which compelled the British to take
steps to check him. His headquarters were at Mandalay, and his deserted
palace is the centre of attraction to-day. The most prominent feature is
the fort, in and about which are grouped the palace of the King, the
houses of Government officials and residents of the military quarter.
[Illustration: _Fort Dufferin and the moat, Mandalay_]
[Illustration: _Mandalay palace and its tower, called The Centre of the
Universe_]
The palace was erected by Mindon Min, King Thebaw's father. It covers an
immense area and is encompassed by a high wall of red brick, in which
are twelve gates, each one surrounded by a conical cupola, with layers
of upturned eaves after the peculiar fashion of the country; the same
thing is characteristic of China.
The fort is entirely surrounded by a moat, one hundred feet wide and
twelve feet deep. Five bridges also lead from five of the gateways. The
moat supplies drinking water for the city and is covered with the purple
lotus blossom. Its width and extent make it a characteristic feature of
Mandalay. Roads run parallel with the walls and lead to the entrance of
the palace gardens, once very beautiful.
The palace is a square of twenty or more buildings, built of teak,
painted red, and covered originally with gold leaf. The roofs have
layers of upturned eaves, and the buildings are richly decorated with
colored ornamentation, while the worn gilding and faded reds are blended
in the peculiar shading which time alone can give. There are many
audience rooms, these usually furnished with elaborately decorated
thrones, as is also the audience room in the beautiful adjacent palace
of the Queen; her throne and the King's great throne in the principal
audience room under the lofty cupola (called pyathat, and termed by the
people the "Centre of the Universe") are especially imposing and rich in
decoration. On either side of this audience chamber are large audience
rooms; these were used for some time after the British occupation as a
church for the soldiers, and the Queen's palace was turned into a
resting place for the Upper Burma Club; now both the church and the club
have appropriate edifices of their own. Between two of the principal
rooms is a screen, utilized as a wall and panelled in glass, mosaic, and
mirrors, which is very effective and reminds one of the glass room in
the palace at Amber.
From the high hill at Mandalay, one may gain an excellent general view
of the many pagodas and monasteries in which the city abounds; for this
is verily the land of the pagoda. The most beautiful of all, called the
Incomparable, was destroyed by fire. One of great interest was built by
Mindon Min, and called the Kuthodau, or, more generally, the 450
Pagodas, but there are said to be seven hundred and twenty-nine cupolas
surrounding the great central pagoda, each containing an alabaster slab
upon which are engraved some texts of Buddha taken from the Pali Bible,
the King thinking thus to perpetuate them,--the whole surrounded by a
wall, in which are built two richly decorated gates.
[Illustration: _The Arakan Pagoda_]
[Illustration: _One of the four gateways to the 450 Pagodas_]
Situated very near the so-termed 450 Pagodas is a group of attractive
pagodas in carved wood and plaster of different designs. In the centre
is an unfinished marble pagoda, called Kyauk Taw Gyi, which contains
a huge attractive figure of Buddha, twenty-five feet high.
On the same morning we visited the glass monastery which once on a time
had been very imposing. Here we saw the Bishop and a number of novice
priests receiving instruction, taking, I imagine, a kind of postgraduate
course. All were most affable and seemed happy, as does every one in
Burma. At this monastery two of our party were given copies of a portion
of the Burmese Bible.
Monasteries are also very prominent in Burma, and they are usually boys'
schools, both for young and adult people.
In the afternoon we visited the great Arakan Pagoda, a shrine which
pilgrims of the Buddhist faith frequent from all over the world. It is
built in the form of a square tower, rising in a series of terraces,
growing smaller and ending in a finial at the summit. There are also
battlements with finials capping the top. The whole is gilded and is
very magnificent in appearance, even to the gilded figure of Buddha,
which occupies the principal throne. The day we were there, the throne
was surrounded by worshippers, and the long passages leading from the
pagoda to it were densely thronged. There are four smaller passages,
each being filled with stalls where is displayed almost every
conceivable article, even to fruit and flowers. Near one of the
passages are two large tanks filled with grayish water where are kept
the sacred turtles. The turtles were fed while we were present and
seemed very tame. In the adjacent enclosure we saw many large bells of
graduated size, for which Burma is famous. In an enclosure young men
were playing the game of football, called "Chinlon," in that country,
which means "round basket," the ball being about six inches in diameter.
The players stand in a circle a few feet apart. The ball is thrown by
one, and the player nearest to whom it falls kicks it in the air, and
attempts to repeat this feat several times in order to keep the ball up,
but failing to do so, the next player gains possession and throws it,
and so on.
The visit to the Queen's Golden Monastery was peculiarly interesting. It
is a fine specimen of native architecture, made of elaborately carved
teakwood, finely gilded, but showing the marks of age. In the large
central room, from which leads a smaller room separated only by columns,
the so-called golden image of Buddha (also bejewelled) rests on a raised
dais, and in front is a long table containing a great variety of votive
offerings to the deity from a widely scattered circle of believers. The
columns surrounding these rooms were profusely decorated with glass
ornamentation, and the effect was startling. The Bishop in his robe of
yellow silk--the color of the Buddhist priesthood--was gracious, and
the young priests very jolly. We received several presents of long
narrow books written on palm-leaf, the text being a translation in
modern Burmese from the old Pali Bible. It is unnecessary to add that we
left compensation, the sale of said books being forbidden; hence such is
the way of evading the law!
[Illustration: _The Queen's Golden Monastery_]
[Illustration: _Karen women in Mandalay_]
This monastery contained, like the Silver Monastery, a school for
children. On our departure, an interesting little episode occurred. A
young priest draped his long yellow robe around one of the gentlemen, in
veritable Roman toga style, the right arm and shoulder being exposed.
Then one of the party took a photograph, promising to send a copy to the
monastery.
The support of the Buddhist monasteries depends on charity, and a
procession of priests from each monastery goes about with mendicant
bowls or baskets, each morning soliciting food and fruit, everything
being placed in one receptacle. Rice, however, is the principal
contribution.
We also visited the Aindaw-Yah Pagoda, the oldest in Mandalay. This is
entirely gilt, from base to spire, and presents an imposing appearance.
It is surrounded by a large square or platform on which are placed
various other shrines containing small images of Buddha.
The cause of there being so many pagodas in Burma is that thereby the
builder gains renown and paves the way for greater happiness in a future
state. For the above reason the pagoda is seldom repaired. The builder
desires to be approached as "the builder of a pagoda," and invariably
addresses his wife as "O wife of a pagoda builder." Architecturally the
pagoda, in general, may be described as having a spire, massive
throughout, rising from a circular, square, or octagonal base, in a
succession of tiers or circles, of which the upper is always narrower
than the one beneath it.
The principal industry of Mandalay is the weaving of silk, for which it
is very celebrated, and a visit to the bazar was most interesting.
Unlike the bazars previously described, this was a large, high building,
filled with aisles and furnished with long tables, at the back of which
sat the saleswomen; all the business of the bazar is carried on by
women. There was a great variety of silk weaving of every conceivable
shape and style, the sarong being prominent. This is a long colored
garment which the women of Burma wear pinned tightly around them below
the waist, unlike the fuller skirt we had seen in India, the dress being
completed by a short, loose jacket which shows a white under-vest and a
long, wide sash. The market was also very interesting, in a small
building next or adjoining the silk bazar.
[Illustration: _Burmese country house near Mandalay_]
It may be well to speak here of the happy, contented, pleasure-loving
Burmese women. Indeed, their condition could have been envied a few
years ago, even in a portion of our own United States, as they can hold
property in their own right and are entitled to their earnings. This
causes them to be very industrious as well as executive. It is possible
that the sunny aspect of Nature may partly be responsible for their
joyous appearance, as it certainly causes the men to be very indolent
and quite willing that their wives should carry on their business,
provided they are left undisturbed to enjoy life in their own way.
The women are very fond of dress, and, unlike the women of India, wear
only real jewelry; travellers see a profusion of solitaire diamond
rings, every one of which is said to be genuine.
There is no caste in Burma and no division of class; in the olden time
any one might become a prince or a prime minister if he had the ability
to rise. There is little expression of art or literature, the life being
very simple. The people are indeed children of Nature, and the only
expression of taste is to be found in their pagodas and monasteries.
Their silver work and wood carving are fine. The houses in the country
are usually built of bamboo, raised from the ground on poles, four to
six feet, as protection against floods, reptiles, and other mishaps.
The floor usually consists of split bamboo, the thatched roof of
elephant grass. The sides of the house are of bamboo, opening to the
street on verandas. Some have second stories. Around these homes birds
and animals and naked children are everywhere to be seen.
Among the incidents of our stay at Mandalay I remember a native dance,
called "Pwe," given one evening in front of the hotel. This was a little
on the order of a vaudeville, consisting of a mixture of talk, song, and
dance. The performers were arranged on a high platform. The women were
dressed in the extreme of Burmese fashion, having long pink silk sarongs
tightly drawn around them, jackets and long sashes, and with flowers in
the hair. They appeared in the dancing and the singing, while the two
men furnished the dialogue. The music was anything but melodious, and
the talking we could not understand; but from the applause of the large
number of spectators gathered around, we assumed, however, that it was
funny. The movement of the dance was very slow and measured, as had been
all the dancing we had witnessed in the Orient. The effect was rather
spectacular, seen in a dim light, with trees for a background. Whenever
a dance of this kind occurs, it soon gets noised about, and large
gatherings of people arrive, and they group themselves around, sitting
always on the ground and observing a profound silence except when they
applaud.
[Illustration: _A national dance at Mandalay_]
Near our hotel was an English Wesleyan mission, directed by the Rev. Mr.
Bestol. A friend and I visited it, and found it very interesting and
cheerful,--the home of the missionaries, and the assistant teachers who
supervised the boys' and girls' school, and the dormitories. They seemed
to be doing a very good work. On the occasion of our first call, they
had all gone on a picnic, quite after our usual Sunday-school fashion.
We also heard of other missions of merit.
At 5 P.M. we left our hotel for the landing of the Irrawaddy Flotilla
Company to pass the night on the steamer _Siam_. We were now on a model
river vessel for three days. The scenery was varied and picturesque. At
points from the water's edge there were terraced slopes of vegetation,
trees of many kinds and hues, the dark green foliage alternating with
the light green of the graceful bamboo, while creepers and flowers
peeped out here and there, also clumps of toddy palms rearing their
lofty heads, while the ever-prevalent pagoda glistened white or golden
through the branches. As the steamer carried freight, occasional stops
were made, and this gave variety to the scene.
We arrived at Pakoku about 4 P.M. and anchored for the night. The shore
was lined with piles of bags, boxes, and other usual accessories.
Natives were seen in all directions with a new array of articles, some
bearing baskets suspended from bamboo poles across the shoulders, while
bullock carts and other primitive vehicles, together with the variety of
style and color of the attire worn by the natives, made a scene truly
picturesque. We also stopped at Mirout. Here were mud volcanoes, which
some of the party visited, being carried there in bullock carts, and
found them rather interesting, the volcanoes emitting mud instead of
lava.
We arrived at a place near old Pagan at four in the morning, and never
can I forget the spectacle presented from my stateroom window. There was
total darkness, save where long lines of natives with lanterns, coming
from the woods in every direction, were seen carrying boxes, bales, and
baskets of freight to the shore. Once at the landing, the rush and
commotion and waving of lanterns were truly Burmese. The next point in
our progress was old Pagan, where we saw many pagodas, but we were told
that there were as many as a thousand in the days of her prosperity.
On the river we constantly passed shipping of various kinds, sometimes
huge rafts of teakwood propelled by natives, mostly devoid of attire;
the peculiar Burman paddy boats of old Egyptian style are used for
transporting unhulled rice. A more peaceful trip cannot be imagined,
and it has been compared to a passage up the Nile.
[Illustration: _On the Irrawaddy River, near Sagoing_]
* * * * *
PROME: We arrived at Prome the evening of January 12th, but owing to
some hours' delay we were disappointed in not having the expected drive
or visiting the celebrated pagoda. We took the night train for Rangoon
and were so fortunate as to have the _de luxe_ cars again.
* * * * *
RANGOON: We reached the city early the following morning. Rangoon is
located on the ocean and is furthermore aided by the Irrawaddy River,
which is navigable for over nine hundred miles. It has an unrivalled
location for future growth and permanence. Rangoon's increase has been
phenomenal for this latitude; in 1852 it was a small fishing village; in
1904 the inhabitants numbered two hundred and fifty thousand, and there
has since been a marked increase. The population is divided into
Burmese, Hindus, Mohammedans, and Christians, with a sprinkling of other
nationalities,--a variety which is distinctly recognized in the life of
the city. It has a large export trade in rice, lumber, and oil, and a
visit to one of the factories is almost always included by tourists.
The shipping at Rangoon presents a picturesque variety, as ocean
steamers, river steamers, paddy boats, and quaint smaller vessels are
always in evidence. The civil and municipal buildings do not, however,
compare with those of such rival cities in India as Bombay, Calcutta,
and Madras. The bazars in the European quarter are unusually fine, and
it was a pleasure to visit them, silks, curios, and silver work being
well displayed. In the native quarter those of the inhabitants to be
seen on the street (previously described) had no distinctive character,
but the native silk bazars were mostly in a large, low, poorly lighted
building, divided into aisles. A visit to this neighborhood showed the
happy-go-lucky features noticed in Mandalay.
Indeed, life in Burma is like a comic opera. I realized this one morning
when going about simply to be amused. The market and pavements were
crowded with persons of different nationalities,--the pineapple man with
his tray of fruit, the Burmese girl with her pretty stall of cigars, the
Hindu seller of betel, the Chinaman under his swaying burden of cooked
meats and strange luxuries, the vermicelli man, the Indian confectioner
with his silver-coated pyramids of sago and cream. It is of all crowds
the most cosmopolitan. Here is the long-coated Persian with his air of
breeding and dignity, jostled by the naked coolie with rings in his
nose. The lady beauty of Japan dashes by in her jinrikisha drawn by a
Chinese coolie, and the exclusive Brahman finds himself shoulder to
shoulder with the laughing daughter of the soil who has never heard of
caste.
[Illustration: _General view of Rangoon_]
* * * * *
SHWE DAGON: The centre of attraction in Rangoon, however, is the Shwe
Dagon Pagoda, which is famous wherever the Buddhist religion prevails;
it is situated on an eminence, one hundred and sixty-six feet above the
sea-level and towering up three hundred and sixty-eight feet. It is a
very imposing structure, exceeding in height even St. Paul's Cathedral
in London. This proportion gives it an air of dignity and repose, while
its gilded surface from base to finial causes it to be truly
magnificent.
The structure has no interior, being built solidly of brick over a relic
chamber; hence its platform with a circumference of about fourteen
hundred feet is the place for worship and also for many small pagodas.
The great pagoda is of conical shape and is divided into twelve parts,
and of these the ti, or umbrella, valued at £60,000, is the most costly
and remarkable, and was the gift of King Mindon, the next to the last
king of Burma. While from its great height it is scarcely visible, it is
really thirteen and one-half feet high and is hung with about fifteen
hundred bells, many of them gold. When heard at night, the effect is
magical.
The southern entrance has a pair of gryphons, and beyond them is the
entrance arch, which is inferior to the rest of the edifice. Here may be
seen venders of many kinds, selling gold leaf (which is used by pilgrims
on the surface of the pagoda), books, papers, toys, and offerings to
place on the altar; and the scene around the stalls is instinct with
life and gayety. Brightly dressed women and children, coquettish girls,
nuns, and beggars all assemble here.
There are four flights of stairs, east, west, north, and south, leading
up to the platform; the southern one being mostly used, as it looks down
upon the thoroughfare. The western stairs have been closed to
worshippers, as the place is now a British fortress.
It is impossible to describe the many objects of interest on this
immense platform. Four chapels at the foot of the pagoda are guarded by
colossal figures of the sitting Buddha, and in the farthest recess, in a
niche, is a small Buddha, the gilding of which is discolored by the
smoke from many thousands of tapers and candles.
On each side of the pagoda are chapels with tapering roofs and upturned
eaves, and within them are seated images of the Buddha covered with
gold. These attract large numbers of worshippers, and with the myriad
waxen tapers produce an impressive effect.
[Illustration: _Shwe Dagon Pagoda at Rangoon_]
[Illustration: _Entrance gateway, Shwe Dagon Pagoda_]
[Illustration: _Chapels on platform around Shwe Dagon, Rangoon_]
The chapels are decorated with screens of fine wood carving. The
coloring is also very striking, the outside being of vermilion and gold,
the inside of green, gold, and purple.
Hundreds of Buddhas of various sizes are seen in all directions,
sitting, standing, and reclining; and on the outer edge of the platform
are small pagodas, each with its ti, or umbrella, and also holding its
usual offerings of fruit, flowers, or small gifts. Seen at twilight and
as the candles are being lighted, it is almost bewildering, even
uncanny, as I found one evening when there alone with my guide, the
renowned Abraham, who, even though a rigid Mohammedan, assumed a devout
attitude.
Another prominent pagoda is the gilded Sule. This is situated quite in
the heart of things, near the Strand, and is graceful in proportions.
The platform also contains many interesting shrines. A fine distant view
of the Sule is obtained from Hytche Square.
There are many monasteries (virtually schools for boys), the finest
being at a suburb called Kemmendine, which is also a centre for the
manufacture of kalagas, or blankets, usually red with figures in
appliqué. We enjoyed several pleasant drives while in Rangoon, the
favorite one being to Royal Lake and through Dalhousie Park; if taken in
the late afternoon, one will see a gayly dressed, fashionable throng,
either driving or walking. I had met Mr. and Mrs. W.T. Graham of the
Burma Civil Service on the steamer from Port Saïd to Bombay, and I was
indebted to them for two drives,--one to their country home, which was
an attractive two-storied bungalow with galleries and low windows above
and below, quite unlike the thatched houses seen in Upper Burma. There
were contrasts in the general dress and appearance of the natives; pink
was, however, still the prevailing color in the sarongs, sashes, and
jackets of the women, and the long hair of the men was the custom. The
intermarriage between Burmese women and Chinamen was said to be very
frequent, some of the women preferring the hard-working executive
Chinamen to the indolent Burmese. And, according to the opinion of a
gentleman I met later, who had made a study of the subject, the
intermarriage of the ever-prevalent Chinamen with races of the Orient,
where caste does not prevent, is in time going to work a great racial
revolution.
One morning we rose at 5 A.M. for an early excursion to see elephants
haul teak from the river-bank to higher ground, where the logs would dry
before transference to the sawmills. We went at this time so as to avoid
the heat, and also because the elephants rest after 11 A.M. The
illustration will show the process, but it was an amusing sight to see
five ponderous animals moving slowly along, propelling the logs with
their trunks, and ever and anon trumpeting; not being versed in elephant
expression, I was left in doubt as to whether the sound meant joy or
sorrow. We visited another similar scene near a large sawmill which we
explored under the leadership of the manager.
[Illustration: _Elephants carrying logs at Rangoon_]
[Illustration: _The Gilded Sule as seen from Hytche Square_]
A trip to a rice-mill had been spoken of, but, not having breakfasted,
we preferred to return to the hotel. Tea and toast were served at
rising, if one desired it, during our entire "Tour." Another novel
excursion was a long drive to some half-ruined Buddhist temples, a
monastery, and buildings assigned to the peculiar rites which precede
the cremation of a Buddhist priest; two bodies were seen in
curious-looking receptacles, awaiting the culmination of events.
We were disappointed in not seeing a "ceremony," but were told to come
in the evening and witness a temple dance, and, I believe, also a
semi-dramatic ceremony. Some of the party did so, but I remained in the
hotel to write letters, as we were to leave the following morning.
I have alluded to Abraham, our guide in Burma, as a devout Mohammedan,
but he had numerous characteristics which rather caused distrust, one of
them being his extreme deference to the ladies of the party, when
according to the tenets of his religion we were all "fiends incarnate";
the other was his apparent abject acceptance of all Buddhist
ceremonies, which we knew at heart he detested. However, "guides" became
a prolific study, as time went on.
The weather had been hot in Rangoon; so, in spite of our pleasant Burman
experiences and the joyousness of things in general, we hailed the
steamer voyage as affording some measure of relief. We sailed at 7 A.M.
on January 17th, on the steamer _Palmicotta_, for a voyage of four days
to Madras. As usual, nothing occurred to mar the even tenor of our way;
the ship was comfortable, the passengers affable, and the sea on good
behavior.
* * * * *
MADRAS, _January 21st_: We arrived at Madras early on the morning of
January 21st. The view of the city from the pier was disappointing, but
the drive of about two miles to the Hotel Connemara showed much natural
beauty, the trees in particular being very fine. Hot weather met us at
Madras, but as it is a city of magnificent distances, driving was a
necessity, and hence less exertion was required. In the park and at the
Botanical Gardens we saw more natural beauty and took the long drive to
the sea front, where the fashionable people of the city of Marina go in
large numbers, and which leads past fine municipal buildings, the
college, and other places of importance. St. George's Church is
pleasing, with its quota of memorial statues, and the close is very
attractive, reminding one of England. The drive through the native
quarter, called Black Town, presented unusual features. The fort and
parks were visited, as were also some rather attractive bazars. The
museum is interesting from an historical standpoint and has many statues
and bas-reliefs, some relating to Prince Gautama and some to Hindu gods;
there are also relics of saints. It is particularly rich in specimens of
armor and jewelled swords.
[Illustration: _General view of Madras_]
Madras seems quite as unlike the cities of Northern India as does
Rangoon, and comparatively few of the thousands of tourists who frequent
Northern India ever visit Southern India, a great distinction between
the two being made. It is, however, conveniently near the great Seven
Pagodas, which we did not visit, and is the gateway to the famous
Dravidian temples which presented much interest.
We left early in the afternoon in order to visit Tanjore, Trichinopoly,
and Madura, and for two days sleeping-cars were to be our home. There
are no hotels in these cities, the wonderful temples serving as a
substitute, while the English railway restaurant afforded us a certain
amount of sustenance. The ride to Tanjore was through a lovely country
with beautiful palms, groves of vari-hued trees, and occasionally a
tangle of vines.
* * * * *
TANJORE: On our arrival at Tanjore in the afternoon we went directly to
the forts which enclose the temple, palace, and gopuras. The temple is
in the little fort. The gopuras claim first attention. They are really
gateways, a feature peculiar to Southern India. They were intended as a
fortification to protect the temples from foreign invaders, and are
imposing in size and structure--towering up (some nine stories high)
course after course, and literally covered with carvings of animals and
gods, all colored in red and gold. We passed through a gopura ninety
feet high, next through a passage one hundred and seventy feet long,
then through a small gopura, when we arrived at the large outer
enclosure of the temple, four hundred and fifty by eight hundred feet.
This is further surrounded by cloisters and open to outsiders, who are
not, however, permitted to enter the great temple of the adjacent halls.
But even at a distance we could admire their barbaric splendor.
We were also entertained by the gorgeous temple peacock (considered
sacred), of enormous size, which, with outstretched tail, posed for us
with as much evident vanity as a coquettish girl. There are smaller
shrines and temples distributed about the great enclosure, and in one
temple is an immense bronze bull. The tower of the great temple is only
thirty-eight feet lower than the Kutub Minar described in "Old Delhi."
In the northwest corner of the enclosure is an exquisite small temple
called Siva Manya and dedicated to the son of Siva. It has a tower fifty
feet high and a base forty feet square, adorned with pillars, and these
are continued along another cloister, fifty feet long. Mr. Ferguson
writes: "It is as exquisite a piece of decorative architecture as is to
be found in Southern India." The great fort seems like a continuation of
the small one, and in it are situated the palace and Schwartz Church.
[Illustration: _The Great Subrahmanya Temple at Tanjore_]
The palace of the Princess of Tanjore is an immense structure and was
built about 1550 A.D. It has no merit architecturally, but possesses
certain features of interest; one of these is a large Durbar room which
contains bas-reliefs on the wall, and a platform of black granite, on
which stands a white marble statue by Flaxman of Raja Shah Foji, who was
a pupil of Flaxman and who was next to the last Raja. There are also to
be found here portraits of the various members of the royal family and a
bust of Lord Nelson. In addition, we came across an unusual library for
India, dating from the end of the sixteenth century, and containing
eighteen thousand Sanskrit manuscripts, one half of them written on palm
leaves. Our English guide showed us a portion of the palace occupied by
two ladies, relatives of the last Raja, this being a courtesy extended
to them by the English Government and which ceases with their death.
The Schwartz Church dates from 1770 A.D., and the aged missionary is
immortalized in a monument designed by Flaxman, which contains eight
figures beside the reclining one.
The Tanjore and Trichinopoly districts were the scene of the earliest
work of the Protestant missionaries in India, and the Roman Catholic
missionaries antedated them by half a century. Churches of these faiths
are scattered through this and the adjoining districts. We had a late
luncheon in the restaurant of the railway station and then repaired to
the train. I have great dislike for a sleeping-car, so it can be
imagined that the visit to the Dravidian temples was made under
difficulties. We proceeded to Trichinopoly, arriving there early and
having a long day before us.
* * * * *
TRICHINOPOLY: Trichinopoly, like Tanjore, has a history full of
vicissitudes, in which the French and that picturesque figure, Lord
Clive, appear. The temple of Sri Ranngam is situated a mile from the
bridge and three miles from the fort, the entrance being through a
gopura forty-eight feet high; the sides of this passage, one hundred
feet long and forty-three feet high, are richly ornamented. The
monoliths which serve as pillars are forty feet high, and every detail
is on a gigantic scale; this is the largest Hindu temple in India. The
outer enclosure alone is twenty-four hundred and seventy-five by
twenty-eight hundred and eighty feet, and has its elephant, but it wears
a commercial aspect (being filled with bazars) which detracts from the
dignity of the scene. As we penetrated to the interior temple, the
buildings diminished in size and importance; the gopuras, however, are
imposing (there are nine in all), with their profuse decoration, all
being painted and all varying in size.
[Illustration: _Fort Rock, Trichinopoly_]
In the court around the central enclosure is a hall of about one
thousand pillars; these are of granite, eighteen feet in height. On one
side the pillars represent men astride rearing horses, the horses' feet
being supported by the shields of men on foot beside them. This temple
was built about 700 B.C. The tanks are of interest in Trichinopoly, but
less so than in Madura.
The great rock is the most noticeable feature, tunnelled out of which is
a circular staircase with a gateway leading to interior temples, and on
the sides of this passage are pillars with peculiar capitals which seem
to indicate Jain origin. The way upward was dimly lighted, and all
manner of accidents seemed possible. In fact, there was a very serious
accident in 1849, when five hundred persons were killed. At one landing
there was a school of small boys; at another, there were groups of
worshippers making their descent; turning to the left, we saw a small
temple of Siva. In the dim light everything seemed weird and unreal. The
view from the top of the rock was far-reaching, gopuras and temples
gleaming through the green foliage. There were sacred elephants here, as
at Tanjore, standing in the usual receptive attitude; for them small
coins were more acceptable than food, showing how adroitly they had been
trained.
* * * * *
MADURA: Another very early arrival at Madura, and the programme of the
day before was repeated. Although Madura is a large place, the temples,
gopuras, and palaces are the chief attraction. The famous Palace of
Tirumala Nayak is splendid in its appointments, having large, airy halls
and audience rooms (similar to the Diwan-i-Khas of Delhi and Agra) with
richly decorated ceilings, and the bedchamber is resplendent with
carving and gilding. There is a fine view from the roof of the great
temple. The nine gopuras are tall, massive, and barbaric in their
decorations, which consist of horses, lions, elephants, gods and
goddesses. The great shrines of Siva and his consort are almost
interminable in their extent, and there is a long vestibule or hall
divided into aisles by carved columns. This formed a reception room
for the King in early times, a great contrast to the present scene of
tumultuous venders with almost every variety of goods, who are more
noisy than their brothers of North India.
[Illustration: _The Golden Lily Tank, Madura_]
[Illustration: _Entrance to the Madura Temple_]
Within the temple there are many shrines and many Tamil worshippers;
high-caste Brahmans are also there to minister to the supposed wants of
the higher gods. Galleries led us out to still other shrines, where are
installed additional images of gods, who on fête days are carried about
in gold and silver chariots of untold value. All the most beautiful
portions of the temple as it now stands were built by Tirumala Nayak,
the great Madura ruler of modern times, who ascended the throne in 1623
and reigned thirty-six years.
One of the quadrangles opens out on a tank. An arcade runs around the
tank, and the walls are painted with representations of the most famous
pagodas in India. On the north side is the belfry--strange to relate, an
American bell hangs therein. Here too is the Hall of a Thousand Pillars,
and this is even more remarkable than the same-named hall at
Trichinopoly, on account of the marvellous beauty of the construction.
Near the hall is the great gopura, and opposite this is the new gallery,
of a magnificent plan but unfinished, known as Tirumala's Choultrie.
There is so much of interest and detail connected with all of these
Dravidian temples that one should plan to have more time to devote to
them. The cursory examination we were afforded measures the disadvantage
of an itinerary. We left after luncheon for Tuticorin, and arrived there
at 5 P.M.
* * * * *
TUTICORIN: Tuticorin, on the Gulf of Manaar, is the port of departure
for Colombo, Ceylon. We had only a hurried glimpse of the city, showing
white buildings, white sand, and the blackest natives we had yet seen.
We inferred they were Tamils. A pleasant night on the steamer followed.
* * * * *
COLOMBO, _January 25th_: The morning of January 25th saw our approach to
the fine harbor of Colombo, and we felt that at last our dream of
viewing the beautiful island of Ceylon was to be realized. Our first
impression was received at the landing jetty, where it seemed as if
every nationality had its representative, so varied was the appearance
of the natives,--the Laskas from the Malay Peninsula, the Hindus from
India, as well as Tamil coolies, Arabs from Aden, Buddhist priests, and
Mohammedans. We found excitement on our arrival at the hotel, owing to
the expected appearance of the ex-Empress Eugénie and her suite, as well
as Sir Thomas Lipton and numerous other notable guests.
[Illustration: _Street scene in Colombo_]
The ride to the hotel, located on the sea, had shown us unusual
luxuriance of vegetation and wonderful trees both in fruit and in
blossom. This fact was emphasized by a long afternoon drive, beginning
in the native quarter with its attendant bazars and ending with a long
country tour for at least an hour through a forest of palms of many
varieties, the tall talipot towering high--higher even than the
fruit-laden cocoanut palm,--while bread-fruit trees, jack-fruit trees,
and bananas made a pleasing variety. A little diversion occurred when a
boy climbed a tall cocoanut palm, procuring a fine specimen, and opened
it for us to try. We passed the Victoria Bridge, which took the place of
the bridge of boats, returning to our hotel by a way that revealed still
more tropical wonders. The fine Galle Face Hotel, with its sense of
spaciousness and restful ease, the illuminated grounds, the band, and
the dash of the waves caused that first Saturday evening to seem almost
perfection; one and all felt willing to linger on indefinitely, but,
alas, the iron-clad itinerary must be met, and a week in the mountains
was to follow!
Colombo is a fine place in which to study types, and nothing is more
peculiar than the Cingalese man, with his long hair braided in a knot at
his neck, with the broad shell comb resting on his crown; on State
occasions the chief waiters at the hotel appear in an exceedingly high
head piece perched above their customary shell ornament, which they told
us was the style of a hundred years ago.
The jinrikisha man here is the first person to gain your attention; so
winning are his ways and so rapid his pace that he is justly popular for
a short spin to the very interesting shopping district, where almost
everything may be found, the jewels holding the interest of the stranger
above all else. But, alas, the pearl, Ceylon's home product, is to be
had only at fabulous prices and not then in its perfection. We had heard
of the lure of the pearl in the Gulf of Manaar (separating Ceylon from
India), and of all the fairy-tale adventures involved in the search for
it, and so we were disappointed in our failure to see perfect specimens.
The heat in Colombo was not oppressive, but, as in other places, there
are flying punkahs and electric appliances for cooling the air; then
there are fans in one's room to use at will, for these Easterners like
comfort and secure it at whatever cost, and the denizens of the West
soon fall into their ways, even adopting the English custom of four
o'clock tea. The spacious entrance hall at the Galle Face Hotel
presented an animated appearance, with beautifully gowned ladies, and
their attendants, seated around little tables sipping tea and consuming
fruit-cake and sandwiches.
* * * * *
NUWARA ELIYA: On Tuesday morning, January 28th, we left Colombo for the
north. The mountain resort of Nuwara Eliya is a great boon even to the
inhabitants of sea-swept Colombo; and it is also appreciated to its full
by the tourist who has been surfeited with the close atmosphere of
cities or grown tired of sea voyages. We had been told that the scenery
combined the wildness of Switzerland with the peculiar charm of the
Welsh mountains; hence we felt that a new experience awaited us. The
railway ride there confirmed our first impression of Ceylon's fine
growth of trees and shrubs, the road leading first through lowlands with
endless cocoanut and other palms; while of all the blossom-laden trees
the gold mohr, with its wealth of scarlet blossoms, surpasses every
other. Later, rice-fields and tea plantations alternated, the latter
even covering the sides of mountains. The scenery grew bolder as we went
along, and at the Junction we took the narrow gauge for our mountain
climb. This ascent was another triumph of engineering skill, winding
around long and bold curves.
Nuwara Eliya is located sixty-two hundred feet above the sea, but,
surrounded by mountains, the country has the appearance of being a
valley. The Grand Hotel, in bungalow style, is prettily located in well
laid-out grounds, with a fine view. In the morning we drove to Hakgalla
Botanical Garden, and on our way there we saw a striking feature in
great masses of rhododendrons. The road to the gardens through an avenue
of trees was inviting, and as we turned to the right we had a fine view
of the west peak of the Hakgalla rock; passing on up the drive, we saw a
large lake, the banks of which were lined with ornamental trees. There
is here a pleasing vista of flowering plants, tall palms, and varied
trees; we examined an immense tea plant twelve feet in diameter, a fine
clump of tree ferns, and a peculiar silver fern from New Zealand,--also
a wax palm from New Granada, the leaves of which are covered with a wax
substance from which good candles can be made; and a fernery with
twenty-six thousand plants. There is also a flower garden, a house for
the propagation of plants, and a laboratory for scientific research,
besides many other interesting features in this truly complete garden.
We visited a tea factory, and an attendant showed us the entire process
of preparation, even to the wrapping of the tea in packages. During the
afternoon we drove to Ramboda Pass, six miles distant. From the top of
the pass, six thousand feet high, there was a panoramic view of mountain
scenery with the Katinale valley below and the gray-crested Peacock
Mountain as a centrepiece. Nuwara Eliya is a famed summer resort, with
beautiful walks, tennis, cricket, and social clubs; the English Church
is finely located, with the usual well-kept close.
[Illustration: _General view of Nuwara Eliya_]
* * * * *
KANDY, _January 30th_: We left Nuwara Eliya, on the morning of January
30th, for Kandy, arriving there at 2 P.M. The train passed through a
country similar to that before described, only there was a greater
descent, Kandy having less altitude than Nuwara Eliya. We had
anticipated much of Kandy, Ceylon's ancient capital and the scene of
action in the days of the old Kandyan kings. It is said that when Adam
and Eve were banished from Paradise they repaired to Ceylon and located
at Kandy, it being the nearest approach to Paradise. A few days' stay
there sufficed to show us that the legend was partly justified.
The city is situated in a valley with stretches of mountains on either
side, a lake nestling in the centre of the place and in the midst of a
perfect wealth of trees. Nature seemed to challenge our admiration.
The afternoon drive to Peradeniya convinced us that the claim of one of
the greatest botanical gardens in the world was well founded, for here
we saw revelations in plants, shrubs, and trees, the new varieties of
palms seeming wonderful. A talipot palm was in blossom, towering high to
heaven, but we knew that its course was nearly ended, for when it
attains about half a century of vitality it droops and dies; this seems
a strange anomaly of Nature. Great groups of rubber trees (largely
exported from Ceylon) and immense groups of tall bamboo trees were also
in plenty.
Kandy, in the Eastern world, derives its greatest renown from being the
home of Buddha's tooth, and the Temple of the Tooth attracts great
crowds of pilgrims of the Buddhist faith from many lands. It is said to
have been brought here in the sixteenth century, and the small temple in
which it was then placed has been enlarged and made a shrine where
costly gifts are laid by devotees from China, Japan, the Malay
Peninsula, Siam, and other remote points. Buddhism claims the larger
portion of Ceylon's subjects, having in comparison with Hinduism a small
following in India, where it originated. The tooth is said to be the
left eye-tooth of Prince Siddhartha, taken from his ashes twenty-five
centuries ago, but it is believed that the original tooth was burned by
the Catholic Archbishop of Goa, Portugal, in 1650, and a spurious one
substituted. However, it is worshipped as the real one, and the morning
following our arrival, we attended the 9.30 service at the temple, where
a crowd was in attendance, seemingly enjoying the hideous music of the
tom-toms and instruments of a similar Oriental character. The tooth is
not shown except on rare occasions, but through a glass door we saw its
jewelled casket and the table on which it rests.
[Illustration: _General view of Kandy_]
There were many offerings before this relic and before other images of
Buddha which are to be found presiding over all temples. Much
superstition was evident, but the sacrifices and practices that are to
be seen in the Hindu temples are here wanting. It is a sad reflection,
however, that Buddha's noble teachings could not have borne better
fruit.
The library of the temple held many richly bound Buddhist books, written
on leaves made from the talipot palm. The leaves bound together are long
and narrow, and are held in place between heavy covers. The priests, as
in Burma, wear a yellow silk robe draped like a Roman toga. They are
seen everywhere, going about in the early morning with a begging bowl;
they are ever courteous and apparently well bred. Cremation is
practised, as with the Hindus, but the rites preceding it are far more
imposing and cover days of peculiar ceremonies, while the Hindus
practise almost immediate cremation. A visit to the Government art
school and museum followed, and then a beautiful mountain drive where
hill and valley alternated; the views were past description.
In the afternoon we were permitted the courtesy of a visit to the
Governor's residence, the family being absent. The grounds were large
and well laid out; the rooms spacious and furnished with a view to
comfort and to meet the requirements of the climate. We were interested
in learning that the ex-Empress Eugénie and her suite were about to
arrive to take up their residence for a time. A so-termed Lady Blake's
drive followed. This was also largely a mountain ride with more fine
views; but we surpassed ourselves on the following day in the tour we
took, and our adjectives were soon exhausted; so it is natural that we
should vote Ceylon the finest land we had thus far visited.
Sunday was passed quietly; we attended a 6 A.M. service in the English
Church, and saw a number of natives in attendance, ladies appearing in
low dresses and with uncovered heads. They were richly clad; so it was
evidently the custom, even though to us it seemed peculiar.
[Illustration: _Entrance to the Botanical Gardens, Kandy_]
[Illustration: _Temple of the Sacred Tooth in Kandy_]
* * * * *
ANURADHAPURA: Monday, February 3d, we left Kandy to visit
Anuradhapura.
Before proceeding, it seems desirable to introduce an historical
digression. The history of Ceylon is shrouded in mystery, but, from
chronicles compiled by the early monks, a real foundation or beginning
has been determined upon, proving that the Cingalese under Wigeyo
invaded Ceylon in 543 B.C. and conquered the aborigines of the soil. It
is deemed probable that they came from neighboring continents, and that
their descendants possessed character and determination; that they were
builders is shown by the erection of splendid edifices at an early date,
and after the arrival of the royal Buddhist missionary, Mahindo (son of
an Indian king), 306 B.C., fine dagobas and monasteries were added, each
successive ruler seeming ambitious to excel his predecessor.
Anuradhapura was the first capital, but owing to many vicissitudes and
several invasions of the Malabars of Southern India, the capital was
moved many times, Kandy being the sixth; it preceded Cotta, near
Colombo, the latter being the present capital. In 1532, on the landing
of the Portuguese at Colombo, the last blow was struck, and soon the
great cities of the Empire were deserted and left in the hands of
foreigners. The best dagobas were crumbling, immense tanks broken, and
general devastation succeeded where splendor had long reigned. The
annals of these centuries, the recital of the achievements and the
failures of the various rulers, read like a romance, and it seems sad
that a people thus endowed could not have retained their character and
independence, although under English rule the island seems prosperous.
The first mention of Kandy is at the beginning of the fourteenth
century, when a temple was built to receive the sacred tooth and other
ruins, the possession of which made it an important centre of the
Buddhist religion and eventually a royal residence; it became the
capital of the island in 1592. From that time until the final
establishment of the English rule in 1803, it was repeatedly captured
and burned by the Portuguese, the Dutch, and the English; it
consequently presents no architectural monuments nor any pretension to
antiquity.
But it has a better claim to the remembrance of posterity in the fact
that for three hundred years it was the centre of the national movement
to resist the aggressions of the foreigner. After the British occupation
the King was allowed some authority, but owing to certain indignities
offered to English subjects, war was declared in 1815, the King taken
prisoner and transported to India, where he died in 1832. Ceylon has
since been an English colony. The Kandyans are brave and fearless in
appearance; they never wear the Cingalese comb, as this is a badge of
the low country. The women dress differently from those in India.
The city presents a wide field of interest for the archæologist, and
incidentally for the tourist. We were to have a new experience here, as
we were to be housed in a "rest house," the term applied to a Government
semi-hotel, usually of a simple description, but serving as a great
convenience to Government officials in the many places throughout the
English islands where there are no hotels. We found the one at
Anuradhapura prettily located in a setting of green, with a garden in
front. The present little town has a population of about three thousand,
and is the capital of the north central province of Ceylon.
[Illustration: _Ruins of Anuradhapura_]
The tour of the ruins is divided into a consideration of the outer and
inner circles, each comprising a drive of several miles. On the
afternoon of our arrival we took the outer circle and went past towering
ruined temples called dagobas, remains of palaces once spacious and
imposing, long rows of stately columns covering a wide space, ruined
towers, statues, some headless and some showing traces of their former
skill, immense tanks, and remains of buildings of many descriptions
which are awaiting the patient investigation of the archæologist. Much
in this line has already been done, and active work is now being carried
forward on some of the dagobas, the contribution of Buddhistic pilgrims
who come from far and near largely aiding the cause. There is also a
local archæological society which seeks to systematize the effort.
The ride to the inner circle and the more distant points consumed
another four hours, and an eight-mile excursion will later be alluded
to. The special objects of interest may be mentioned, with an indication
of what the ruins represent, as they may have general value. The sacred
road is a feature of the place, for it is the pathway the pilgrims have
trod for over two thousand years. The Thuparama is the oldest and most
venerated of all the dagobas. The largest one is the Jaytawanarama,
built about the close of the third century A.D. by King Mahicena. The
height, including the pedestal, is two hundred and forty-nine feet, and
its diameter three hundred and sixty feet; moreover, the contents of the
dome of brickwork and the platform on which it stands are said to
contain twenty million cubic feet. It is also stated that, with the
facilities which modern inventions supply for economizing labor, the
building of such a structure at present would take five hundred
bricklayers from six to seven years, and would involve an expenditure of
at least $5,000,000. Only the glory of the old outline is now left, and
its four chapels have crumbled almost past recognition.
[Illustration: _Near the Sacred Road, Thuparama Dagoba_]
Of interest is the Isurumuniya Temple, constructed by King
Dewenipiatissa, 300 B.C. The temple is carved out, and circles around a
formation of natural rock; its shrine is approached by two terraces, the
steps being in a state of fine preservation. The outer wall of the upper
terrace is ornamented with a remarkable series of seventeen mural
frescos in low relief, the subjects being grotesque, and there is a
large tablet on the south wall consisting of a group of three women, a
man, and attendants. Close to the entrance of the shrine is a large
sitting figure holding a horse, and carved out of the face of the rock
are the heads of four elephants in low relief. The stone doorway is a
fine specimen of carving, and the pillars which support the porch in
front of it are beautifully proportioned. The temple has been restored.
A priest's dwelling-house is near, and the priest was officiating at the
shrine at the time of my visit. I was alone; he signified that I was to
keep silent, and then offered up a prayer to Buddha in my behalf, for
which I was doubtless expected to deposit a coin in a contribution box.
As I did not disappoint the expectant priest, he courteously presented
me with his card, and this is the name inscribed thereon:
"Sangharakkhita Mahathera, the High Priest of the Isurumuni Vihara."
Another interesting dagoba with a most unpronounceable name is now being
restored through the pious contributions of pilgrims. The present height
is one hundred and fifty feet, with a diameter of three hundred and
seventy-nine feet. It was originally surrounded by two large paved
platforms, the inner one being raised above the other. Around the outer
wall there was originally a complete circle of elephants, each elephant
being furnished with tusks of real ivory. The Moonstone Steps are finely
preserved. There is still a striking frieze of lions running along the
upper border of the platform, and around the base of the dagoba are five
large upright statues and a small sitting one, the tallest said to be
that of King Dutugemuna.
There are wonderful tales told of miraculous work done through the
celebrated bo-tree, a branch of the oldest historical tree in the world.
It was planted two hundred and forty-five years before Christ, and its
story has been handed down in a continuous series of authentic
chronicles. This is believed by Buddhists to be a branch of the sacred
bo-tree in Buddh Gaya, India, under which Prince Siddhartha sat on the
day he attained Buddha-hood, this branch having been sent from India; it
has been sacredly treated, enriched with stone carvings and braces, and
honored with magnificent ceremonies by repeated dynasties; it has also
been spared during the successive invasions of the land. The Chinese
traveller and author, Fahiam, visited it in the fifth century, and has
left an authentic record of it as well as of some buildings in this
ruined city. There are fine columns and many remains of the King's
palace still standing; in addition to which, the monasteries and tanks
all show artistic skill.
[Illustration: _The Moonstone Steps_]
Perhaps a clearer idea of the former splendor may be had by a brief
recital of what chroniclers and archæologists prove to have been the
plan of the Buddhist Brazen Temple, now a collection of sixteen hundred
monolithic granite pillars, standing twelve feet from the ground and
arranged in lines of forty each way; they cover a space measuring two
hundred and thirty-one feet north to south and two hundred and
thirty-two feet east to west. This formed the foundation of the great
Brazen Temple, erected by King Dutugemuna in the second century B.C.
These columns supported the building, nine stories in height, and
containing one thousand dormitories for priests. The roof was of sheet
copper, and the walls were embellished with beads which shone
resplendent like gems. The great hall was supported on golden pillars
resting on lions, and in the centre was an ivory throne with a golden
sun and silver moon on either side, while above it glittered Imperial
Chinta, the white canopy of dominion. It was destroyed, then rebuilt,
and the second restoration occurred in the twelfth century, thus showing
the vicissitudes which this and other ruins have passed through.
The excursion to Mihintale, eight miles distant, was made alone with a
guide, at six in the morning, the other members of the party preferring
another excursion. The drive was mostly through what was termed a
jungle, meaning a roadway cut through the forest and left in its natural
state; hence there was a tangle of vines and underbrush, and the effect
was very fine with the great variety which the tropical vegetation
affords. Reaching our destination, we left the carriage for a walk of
three quarters of a mile through a forest to the base of a mountain from
which ascends eighteen hundred and sixty-four wide marble steps, divided
into four flights, with a landing for each, paths leading to the left or
right of the landings to some object of interest.
The stairs were not difficult but rather continuous, as we found before
we reached the top. In the middle of the last flight was a narrow path
leading to the snakes' bathing-place; this is formed out of solid rock
and measures about one hundred and thirty feet in length. At the back
the five-headed cobra has been carved in high relief; it is seven feet
high and is represented as rising from the water. The sanctity of the
mountain-top in the eyes of Buddhists is said to be due to the fact that
on the summit alighted the royal missionary, Mahahindo, when he came
from India, 307 B.C.; he there met the King, who was out hunting, and
having listened to a discourse, the King became an ardent Buddhist, a
fact which later resulted in the conversion of forty thousand of his
followers.
[Illustration: _Mihitale Steps_]
* * * * *
CEYLON: The Ambustala dagoba now marks the spot of the meeting. It is
built of stone, the terrace around it consisting of numerous columns.
There are ruined statues, columns, and carved capitals scattered about,
showing that formerly this was the basis for a group of buildings. There
are also oblong cuttings in the rock, supposed to be the foundation of
cave dwellings never completed. One more flight of stairs leads up to
the gallery, surrounding the Mahaseya dagoba. The view from this highest
gallery is magnificent; the great plain gave a wide vista, while beyond
was an outline of the distant mountain range; nearer we saw great masses
of green, through which shone the three great dagobas of Anuradhapura.
Before leaving the summit we held a conversation with the aged priest
through an interpreter, and, retracing our steps, drove to the rest
house for a ten-o'clock breakfast made up of coffee and rolls; then,
returning to our temporary home in Anuradhapura, we pronounced the
morning's excursion a success.
In the afternoon we took a drive with a guide through the inner circle,
when there occurred the incident with the priest previously related.
At 6 A.M. the following day, we returned to Colombo, and again enjoyed
the tropical vegetation, the views of mountain and valley, of rice and
tea plantations, and the glimpse of native life which the short stay at
stations afforded. Time thus passed in the mountains and country of
Ceylon is indeed fraught with delight. We had an object lesson in the
habits and customs of the so-called hill-country, Kandy furnishing many
marked examples; there was particularly the large two-wheeled cart with
oxen as propelling power. We were also interested in the Rodiyas, living
in the outskirts, a people oppressed on account of a curse pronounced by
a king many years ago, one of the conditions being the prohibition of
clothes above the waist, both for men and women. The latter are noted
for their beauty, and excel as singers and dancers, but they suffer
under the stigma of immodesty for the reason given above.
Three restful days followed; the hotel wore a homelike air, and the time
was full of content and quiet enjoyment. Ceylon fascinated me from the
first, and after the trip to the mountains and a more perfect
realization of the natural advantages of the island, the impression
deepened.
The native people also struck me as being cheerful, but with more
strength of character than the Burmese, and possessing a certain kind
of dignity that was pleasing. The bazars too were found unusually
interesting on a closer inspection, and offered many new and novel
articles.
[Illustration: _Street scene in Kandy, Ceylon_]
While there were carriage drives, this was our first introduction to the
jinrikishas, and we found them most convenient and a novelty; only there
was an uncomfortable feeling that the jinrikisha man in Ceylon was too
slight for his occupation.
The street scenes presented almost as cosmopolitan an aspect as those at
Rangoon, and with quite as varied a mixture of nationality.
There was a notable carriage drive of eight miles to Mt. Lavinia, a
seaside resort with only a hotel perched on a hill, while below on the
sandy beach were many fishing-boats. Here we whiled away an hour, and
had afternoon tea.
On Saturday evening, February 8th, we bade adieu to Ceylon, taking
passage on the steamer _Delhi_ of the P. & O. line, which was to be our
home until the 14th. We were assigned pleasant rooms, and the general
environment was agreeable. There was little of incident on the trip
until we landed at Penang, Malay peninsula, on the morning of the 13th.
We made a special tour, and noted many beautiful homes with surrounding
grounds and a general air of thrift. We were once more reminded of Great
Britain's supremacy in the Far East; it is surprising, the vast amount
of colonizing, as well as civilizing, she has accomplished.
In Penang, Chinamen were everywhere seen and Chinese business houses
predominated. The Malay was, however, to be found as he should be on the
Malay peninsula. At first it was difficult for us to realize that we had
left the East, Penang being the portal of the Far East, of which
Singapore is the gateway, her harbor being a famous shipping point.
At 11 A.M. we were sailing on for that port, which is regarded as the
Paris of the Far East by the wealthy nabobs who frequent the city. The
Chinese coolie who officiated as jinrikisha man was a sturdier specimen
of humanity than the one seen at Colombo, and we could enjoy a ride
without the conscientious scruples experienced at the former place.
Arriving at Singapore, we found we must postpone our visit there, as the
steamer _Rembrandt_, of the Dutch line, was soon to leave for Java.
It was late in the afternoon when we sailed from Singapore; we caught
some glimpses of the shore and noted the finest group of the traveller's
palm we had as yet seen; also some pretty bungalow homes close to the
water's edge, with tiny gardens enclosing palms and flowers.
[Illustration: _The canal in the old city of Batavia_]
There was scarcely a ripple to be detected, and the elements were
hushed; the brilliant rays of the setting sun shed a halo over the
peaceful landscape.
We imagined there must be some premonition of the event which was to
take place in the night, namely, the passing of the equatorial line; and
we tried to keep our senses alert in order not to miss the subtle
significance of so unusual an event, but in the morning there was the
humiliating reflection that sleep had "won the day"! At noon we began to
realize that we were at Summer's door and would soon learn the true
quality of the tropical heat, of which we had had as yet only a prelude.
The Java Sea was as placid as the Strait of Malacca had been, and there
was little to break the monotony save a passing steamer, a glimpse of
Sumatra's shore, and an occasional island. Another night passed, and in
the morning we were at the harbor of Tandjong Priok, which is nine miles
from the city of Batavia. We arrived there in a pouring rain; we were
now in a land where rain is prevalent, this being the wet monsoon
season.
After a very slight custom-house inspection was completed, we left by
train for Batavia, one of the capitals of Java. We were at once
impressed with the variety of the landscape and the tropical richness of
the trees and shrubs. The Dutch aspect of the architecture and the
canals were evidence of the influence of the fatherland, but the natives
seemed to be a mixture of Javanese and Malays, while the Chinese, as
elsewhere, were to be seen in large numbers.
The canals are the principal feature of the old city of Batavia; but
along the streets one detects also many business houses and banks, some
of the largest being Chinese.
The Hôtel des Indes is located in the new city called Werengen. On
entering the enclosure which surrounds the hotel, a large banyan tree
was the central object directly in front of the hotel proper, situated
nearly in the centre of a square.
On three sides of the square are arranged a continuous series of
one-story suite of rooms opening in front on a wide veranda, shut off
from the adjacent suite by screens of stained glass and shaded by glass
and awnings. This was the salon of the suite, furnished with rugs,
chairs, centre table, and writing-desk. Here all waking hours are
supposed to be passed. The largest homes of the residents are similarly
arranged; such an exterior forms the large drawing-room, often
beautifully furnished. It all seemed new and novel to us, but the climax
was reached when we saw even matrons on exhibition in these show boxes,
dressed in loose jackets, sarongs drawn closely around them, and their
bare feet simply encased in sandals; also stout Dutchmen in pajamas, and
sometimes this costume was worn in the dining-room with the utmost
unconcern, showing how customs vary in different countries.
[Illustration: _Batavia, Java_]
The charming bungalow homes in the new city, surrounded by spacious
grounds, pleased us, as did the business houses; some fronting on canals
which were spanned by artistic bridges. The Museum of the Batavian
Society of Arts and Sciences was rich in exhibits of Sumatra's and
Borneo's products and handwork, as well as in Javanese antiquities and
in articles of silver and gold workmanship, which were novel in design
and skilfully executed. The building is classic in its lines and very
pleasing.
* * * * *
_February 18th_: An early train, 6 A.M., for Buitenzorg gave us the
freshness of the morning for travel, and the two hours thus consumed
were filled with exclamations of delight over the beauty of the scenery.
Soon after our arrival at the Hotel Belle Vue, we drove to the Botanical
Gardens, where, like Peradeniya in Ceylon, a revelation awaited us.
Masses of pink lotus, white lilies, Victoria Regia, and other varieties
of the lily family formed great patches of color on the miniature ponds
that were their setting. Orchids in greenhouses and on trees put forth
their graceful flowers; palms of every description, candle trees with
myriads of almost realistic candles which were suspended from the
branches, sausage trees with veritable bolognas hanging from the limbs,
bread-fruit trees, lovely vistas of the graceful banana, and groups of
other foliage or shrubs surrounded us in abundance.
The Governor's spacious residence looks out upon the park on one side,
and a pretty summer-house overlooking a valley gave a picturesque touch
to the place.[4] The ride around the city showed lovely homes set in
varied greens, and a general air of thrift and prosperity prevailed.
The hotel is charmingly located and has pleasant features. It fronts on
a garden, with a wide gallery overlooking the city. A square court in
the rear is encircled by a series of rooms, with the front gallery
looking on the court, and the back gallery facing a valley (the house is
built on a side hill) through which runs a river with a tiny village on
its border; while beyond a wide vista of cocoanut palms rises a range of
mountains, Mt. Salak being the distinctive feature. Both galleries are
well furnished, and here guests assemble when in the hotel. The view
from the rear gallery I have never seen surpassed in breadth, except
perhaps by that in Granada, when from Miss Laird's balcony (near the
Alhambra) we looked down upon the city, with the mountains beyond.
[Illustration: _View of Mt. Salak from the Hotel Belle Vue_]
The Javanese view was enjoyed for hours, as a heavy rain prevented our
afternoon ride, and the letters that should have been written were
somewhat neglected, owing to the view described.
One shrinks at being called at four o'clock in the morning, at having
breakfast at five, and at taking a train at six, but such was our
experience on February 19th. One leaves Buitenzorg for Garoet as the
first streak of dawn appears; as we sped along, we realized more and
more what tropical vegetation and abundant rain could produce, for the
vivid greens and dewy freshness of the foliage surpassed even Ceylon's
landscape, which in its turn had surpassed anything before seen, even
our own South and Southern California not excepted; Java is indeed the
garden of the world! With remote mountain views on either side of us and
nearer aspects of palms and trees bearing names unknown, there were
interspersed rice plantations, unlike the flat fields of Burma,
cultivated in terraces rising one above the other on hilly slopes. An
occasional tea plantation lay here and there, and some traces of coffee
plantations; the cultivation of the bean has been partly abandoned
owing to the blight about ten years since.
As the train climbed upward, our destination being Garoet, two thousand
feet above the sea-level, the scenery grew less marked, but we were
still encircled by the Gedeh Mountain range. The great Garoet plain
consists of wide level stretches and extended rice-fields, less marked
by terraces than those we had seen before; therein is situated the
quaint village of Garoet, a favorite hill resort, where we found the
noted Hotel van Horck with its reputation for neatness and restful
hospitality. The one-story building has suites of rooms looking out on a
spacious garden, conventional in style, with its wealth of trees,
shrubs, and flowers, also busts and statues. A large oval bed of
brilliant crotons on one side of the garden, and another foliage bed
that formed the base of a pyramidal vase on the other side, were
especially admired.
The pretty little village of Garoet seemed to breathe a spirit of
contentment, and it is quite a resort for people from a lower altitude.
It is also the starting-point for various excursions, some of which we
took, but the daily rains proved an obstacle. The afternoon of our
arrival we drove to a pretty lake, but a sudden rain prevented a sail to
the island in an exceedingly quaint little kiosk, which rests on two
long boats. The bad weather also prevented a visit to the Hot Springs,
where baths of a rather primitive character are furnished.
[Illustration: _A village scene in Garoet, Java_]
The most noted excursion is to the crater of Papandajang. We departed on
this quest, about five in the morning, driving eleven miles to the rest
house at Tjiseroepan, where ponies and sedan chairs were furnished for
the ascent, a distance of about six miles. Four of our party selected
saddle horses, and four preferred sedan chairs (I took the latter). The
chairs are carried by four men, two in front and two in the back,
supporting on their shoulders long bamboo poles on which the sedan is
placed. They were similar to those used in the ascent of Tiger Hill, at
Darjeeling, but seemed to be more like palanquins, for one could half
recline therein.
The ascent once begun, our eyes were riveted first on one side of the
narrow roadway and then on the other, so diversified was the view: first
patches of bananas, then palms and bamboo which formed an archway. Such
was the continued landscape, while intervening spaces were devoted to
the cultivation of coffee. The chichona plant, from which quinine is
made, was also seen, and one or two patches of tea plantations. A
picturesque feature of this ride was a double hedge made of two rows of
bamboo poles with an occasional horizontal support, between which were
vines, low palms, and unknown plants; as we ascended farther low ferns
formed a fringe at the base of the hedge. Never have I seen anything
lovelier than this trellis of Nature, which extended about half-way up
the ascent; then the way grew narrower and we were in the real jungle.
Here surprising wonders awaited us, towering palms and other trees,
vines and giant ferns, some of which had taken root in crevices of a
tall palm, producing a round basket effect. This was three times
repeated on the trunks of several palms, a stray seed having, perhaps,
settled there. It seemed to me as though the palm, if it could, would
utter a protest.
The higher we went, the larger and more varied grew the ferns. There had
been flowers all the way--wild phlox, the primrose, the creeping
periwinkle, and white and red dentura, together with many trees of
brilliant foliage similar in color to our Autumn tints. There was also a
very tall bush with clusters of bright yellow blossoms, in size much
like our wild rose. When nearer the crater, the trees became small and
the vegetation more sparse, until we reached the point where we left our
chairs and commenced our final ascent, about one quarter of a mile, over
broken pieces of lava. Then we arrived at the halting-point and gazed on
the near crater, inhaling the sulphurous fumes, hearing the rumble, and
seeing the clouds of vapor as they issued forth, with a mixture of
bright yellow sulphur. The volcano is now inactive, the last eruption
having taken place in 1772, when forty villages were destroyed. At this
time the side of the crater towards us was broken. It is altogether a
fine spectacle.
[Illustration: _The crater of Papandajang_]
Having partaken of our breakfast at ten-thirty, we prepared for our
descent, when, alas! a pouring rain set in, and as the slight covering
of the sedan chair afforded little protection, there was no avoiding a
thorough wetting. We had thought of the fine views we would have in our
descent, and were now glad of the occasional backward glances we had
taken during our upward climb. These were fine, of great breadth,
embracing distant mountains, nearer ones, and an occasional plain which
is a characteristic feature of a Java landscape. The descent was very
steep in places, and the footing of the men was rather uncertain; hence
it was a relief when the task was accomplished. We viewed some new
features every now and then, a noticeable one being a group of twelve
very large banyan trees of the variety known as Werengen in a field near
the rest house; their white gnarled trunks and limbs suggested the
forest primeval.
The next morning we drove twelve miles to Leles, past the broad Leles
plain, and nearly all the way through a shaded avenue of trees, at times
forming a natural archway. The lake was most picturesque, with its
three islands and varied shore line. On one side there was a small
cultivated mountain sloping to the water's edge. A heavy rain prevented
the afternoon excursion.
We left Garoet on February 22nd, for almost a day's railroad journey to
Djokjakarta.
* * * * *
DJOKJAKARTA, _February 22nd_: We arrived at Djokjakarta on Saturday,
February 22nd, at 4 P.M. A drive followed, showing us an older and
prettier place than Garoet, with a large Chinese quarter, in which the
shops lacked much attraction.
The Sultan's palace was pointed out; it was by no means imposing. We saw
his elephants, but declined to enter the enclosure where the tigers were
confined. Some of the houses were Dutch in style; others were Javanese
of the one-story bungalow type, with open fronts. Early the following
day, at 6 A.M.., we drove to the ruined temple of Prambanam, and nine
miles from Djokjakarta, we visited Chandi Kalasan ("chandi" means a
mausoleum), a beautiful ruin, unfortunately too dilapidated to afford
much satisfaction, but from the remains that have been found
archæologists base their belief that it was incomparably beautiful in
conception and workmanship. We also went to another temple, Chandi Sewo,
about half a mile distant, which also showed marks of great beauty.
We drove on, perhaps a mile farther, and came to a wonderful group of
temples, dating about the same period, known as Prambanam, where we saw
what excited our wonder and admiration. Though the ruins did not contain
a single genuine Buddha figure, holding only many images of Hindu gods,
archæologists find ample proof that they were built by Buddhists (they
have been called Hindu temples).
[Illustration: _The ruined temple of Prambanam_]
[Illustration: _Bas-reliefs in the Siva Temple, Prambanam_]
[Illustration: _The stairs leading to a Prambanam temple_]
Time will not, however, permit an elucidation of them further than to
state that Dr. Gronneman, a celebrated writer and archæologist and an
accepted authority, believes that a number of monuments and bo-trees
have within a few years been hewn out around the base of each of the
temples, these being covered with the traditional parasols; many of the
dagoba-shaped bells have also been found,--a symbol of the tree under
which Prince Siddhartha attained Buddha-hood. Dr. Gronneman also calls
them Prambanam. The ruins form a group of eight temples or
chandis,--three greater and three lesser ones in two parallel rows,--the
former on the west, the latter on the east side of the spacious square,
with two smaller ones at the ends. These were doubtless mausolea built
over the ashes of princes or chiefs. The temples were probably
constructed toward the end of the eighth century, and unfinished
sculptures show that the work was stopped before completion. It is
stated that possibly this may have been caused by the overthrow of the
Empire at that time. There are two flights of stairs on each side, the
lower leading to a landing which is raised a few feet above the terrace,
but in the corners between the stairs and the wall of the basement are
miniature temples of exquisite workmanship, the front and side walls of
which had niches, each containing a high-relief figure of a man or a
woman. The upper flight of stairs (three sides lead to the entrance to
three chapels with pyramidal roofs of their own) have suffered much
devastation.
The largest of the temples has a broken image of Siva, more than life
size. This, together with the nature of the bas-reliefs, has caused
archæologists to name it the Siva Temple. In like manner the second
temple has been called Brahma, and the third Vishnu, thus including the
Indian triumvirate of gods. On the upper walls of the basements of all
the principal temples are several series of sculptures, each following
one division of the wall. Most of the niches contain small lions with
curled manes, while some in the projecting part of the wall have three
heavenly nymphs standing in a stately manner with arms interlaced. A
series of sculptures which has been preserved almost intact on the inner
side of the parapet wall of the Siva Temple is a repetition of the first
part of the Rama legend as told in the Indian epic, "Ramayana," and it
is thought that the corresponding series of the other temples may have
represented the sequel to that history. A ponderous cornice richly
ornamented, which is now almost gone, runs over this series of
sculptures. Another series was found on the walls of the temple itself a
few feet higher than the terrace, and still higher up there is a more
continuous series, but the arches and figures are lost in the almost
general wreck which time and the elements have wrought. Only a hint of
the character of these ruins has been given, but with the aid of the
illustrations, some idea of them, of their entire beauty, as well as of
the imposing majesty of the sculptures, may be gained. The Loro Jonggram
Temple has a celebrated bas-relief in an elaborate niche, called the
"Three Graces."
[Illustration: _The Three Graces in the Lara Jongram Temple, Java_]
About a quarter of a mile distant from the Prambanam there is another
group of temples covering the largest circumference of any other group
in the region. The principal temple, much surpassing the others in size,
stood on a raised rectangular terrace, enclosed by a low wall with a
gateway in the middle of each side. A little lower there were
twenty-eight temples forming a rectangular enclosure, and another more
spacious court was enclosed by forty-four temples. There was a still
larger rectangular terrace with eighty temples, and a lower terrace
with eighty-eight temples, making two hundred and forty in all; hence,
by exaggeration, the name, "One Thousand Temples." Each of the temples,
which diminish in size, forms a square with a little approach and small
_steos_ leading to the inner room. The largest temple of the group was
rich in detail and sculpture designs, which, like the Prambanam group,
relate to the Indian triumvirate, Siva, Brahma, and Vishnu, with the
same evidences, however, as to Buddhist origin. There were still other
ruined temples in the vicinity which could not be visited, but we drove
back the nine miles to Djokjakarta, feeling that we had had a rich
morning's experience and also deeply impressed with the labor, patience,
and skill which these ruins represented.
We arrived at the Hotel Mataram in time for luncheon in the pleasant
open dining-room, leading to a garden filled with trees, from whose
branches were suspended orchids of various hues. February 24th was the
date fixed for a trip of twelve miles by carriage to the Buddhist
temple, Boro Boedor, but the late rains of the monsoon season had
carried away a bridge that must be crossed; hence a grave doubt arose as
to whether we would be able to go. Our enthusiasm, however, led us to
take the risk, with the result that on reaching the scene of the wreck
we found an improvised footbridge and another train awaiting us on the
opposite side. Our railway journey terminated, we took a carriage for a
drive of several miles, stopping on our way at the old temple of
Mendoet, small but very perfect in its construction, with fine
bas-reliefs and large architectural ornaments; also some immense savage
gargoyles, which were especially noticeable.
[Illustration: _The old temple at Mendoet_]
We ascended the stairs to the inner room, where was a large-sized figure
of Buddha, with the attendant figures at each side called his sons,
Buddhavista, meaning "future Buddhas." Driving on, we came to another
missing bridge. Here we were taken across on a rude raft, the carriage
following, and then the horses. As we drew near Boro Boedor, a feeling
of awe came over us, for we were to behold a temple which for centuries
had been buried from the sight of man. Indeed, until the debris of time
was removed, after English occupation in 1811, not a hint of its
existence even had been known. This work was undertaken by Sir Stamford
Raffles before the cession of Java to the Dutch in 1816, and carried on,
aided by eminent archæologists. Much has been done by the Government and
by an Archæologist Society since 1885, and at the time we were there it
was said that about one thousand workmen were employed on the temple.
The approach being over a hill, the view of the temple is suddenly
disclosed, but from the rest house we had a side glimpse. This is
confusing at first, and the structure seems too broad for the height,
thus lacking in impressiveness; but as one approaches and the huge mass
takes on color and expression, with the many-sided pyramids of dark gray
stone, the mass of cupolas, spires, and walls surrounded by a high
central dome, the impression taken altogether becomes almost
overpowering. It is a structure difficult to describe, but a few
outlines with the aid of the illustrations may give you some idea at
least of its size and impressiveness.
First, it is not a building in the ordinary sense and has no entrance.
It is the top of a hill, artificially lowered and encircled with
galleries built by human hands. The lowest terrace, which is shown in
the picture, forms the upper portion of a terrace wall, which is still
submerged below the soil. This terrace has thirty-six sides, measuring
three hundred and seventy-four feet in diameter. Below is a larger
terrace, square in shape, estimated at five hundred feet; it is
underground, while above it is another of the same shape as the middle
terrace, from which it is reached by stairways on each of the four
sides. Some years ago it was discovered that three terraces were of a
later date than the original internal structure, which is more slender
in shape, and that they were constructed in order to support the latter
when it began to show signs of settling. The base of the lower terrace
has been exposed in places in order to obtain photographs of the
beautiful bas-reliefs, but it was subsequently covered, inasmuch as it
would have been a grave mistake to run the risk of leaving it
permanently exposed.
The building above the three terraces consists of four parapeted
galleries, erected upon the internal walls of the lower gallery, and of
four upper terraces, the three highest of which are circular. The
topmost terrace is crowned by a large cupola, or dagoba. The Boro
Boedor, from its base to the top of the cupola, has a height of
ninety-seven feet, while the elevation of the hill to the lower step is
about fifty-five feet, making a total of one hundred and fifty-two feet.
Each of the lower galleries is about seven feet wide, the walls on
either side being lined with sculptures which, if they could be extended
in a line, would cover three miles. We walked around the galleries and
ascended the steps.
In the lower gallery there is, beneath every Buddha, a representation of
a man, on either side of which are groups of three figures, each bearing
lotus flowers and fans.
The inner circle of the second gallery contains, in the upper row,
bas-reliefs representing scenes connected with the history of Prince
Siddhartha (Gautama) from his infancy to the period when he attained
Nirvana.
The third gallery wall contains one hundred and eighty bas-reliefs,
depicting the apotheosis of Buddha. The fourth, in eighty different
scenes, pictures the rewards given to kings who have been Buddha
worshippers, while the fifth contains a large number of images of Buddha
and of two kings, probably the founders of the temple. Other bas-reliefs
that are interspersed represent fanciful subjects and scenes from life
or are illustrations of legends; one of the latter deals with the
turtle, which is regarded as sacred by all true Buddhists.
Staircases ascend from gallery to gallery in a straight line on each of
four sides. These have pointed arches with carved keystones, and
formerly were guarded by heavy banisters and carved lions. The parapeted
walls of the galleries were once decorated with four hundred and
thirty-two niches, each with three turrets, and contained four hundred
and thirty-two life-sized Buddhas, seated on lotus cushions.
[Illustration: _Boro Boedor, in Java_]
[Illustration: _Stairway of Boro Boedor, Java_]
[Illustration: _Boro Boedor, Java, showing one part of the gallery_]
The three upper circular terraces are individually adorned with
thirty-two, twenty-four, and sixteen openwork bell-shaped cupolas, or
dagobas, each containing a Buddha in sitting posture. Inside this circle
rises the central dagoba of huge, imposing dimensions, the final crown
to the whole structure. This is modelled after the same type as the
smaller ones, but its walls rise perpendicularly from the base, which
has the form of a huge lotus cushion in a beautiful frame, and ends at
the top in a slightly rounded dome rising at least twenty-seven feet
above the highest terrace. Of the cone which formerly surrounded this
dagoba nothing is left except part of the pedestal, a stone block
afterwards fashioned into a seat five feet high by ten feet broad. This
is reached by some rough stone steps. The cupola, or dagoba, was at one
time entirely closed, but when opened some years ago it was found to
contain a large unfinished figure of Buddha.
Our party climbed to the seat alluded to, and what a view presented
itself!--a wide valley or plain, miles in extent, surrounded by the
towering Minoch mountains in the distance, with lesser mountains
seemingly as foothills, but nevertheless some of them volcanic craters;
villages almost concealed by the masses of foliage, with whole tracts of
palms and masses of green,--and all bathed in the glorious sunlight. We
sat spellbound, and finally descended the long flight of stairs feeling
we had had a morning's experience which never could be repeated. In the
words of Dr. Gronneman (to whom we owe a debt of gratitude for his
explanations), "upwards of a thousand years have since rolled over the
Boro Boedor; earthquakes and ash showers have disjointed its walls, and
rank vegetation has disintegrated its foundation, ... and shortsighted
fanatics have defaced its works of art, but still the ruin stands there,
an imposing fact, a powerful creation of the thinking mind, an epic in
stone, immortal even in its decadence."
We walked to the pleasant rest house, called Passagrahan, for our
luncheon. Soon the rain which had threatened us fell in torrents, but
neither this fact nor any other obstacle dimmed our enthusiasm as we
sped on our homeward way. To prove my own absorption in the day's
programme I would state that I amused the party on our arrival at the
train by saying to our Malay servant, "Buddha, will you take my wrap?"
his name being Pandox.
The next morning I drove about Djokjakarta in search of photographs and
found the place much more attractive than I had supposed. One long
avenue of trees in particular impressed me; on alternate sides were the
tamarind and the canary tree, forming a perfect arch overhead. This
continued for a long way, and there were various other shaded streets
that attracted my attention.
Djokjakarta is a place of importance, the capital of a native State; the
Sultan preserves some semblance of power and lives in regal style,
keeping up all the ceremonials of his high office. This was one of the
last provinces to yield to Dutch rule. There is a Dutch resident to
whom the Sultan must pay deference and from whom he accepts advice. We
did not see the Sultan, but we saw four sons of his out driving, dressed
in red and each carrying a red silk umbrella, the emblem of royalty.
[Illustration: _A public square in Djokjakarta, Java_]
The life at Djokjakarta is much like that of old Java, and the peasants
are said to be of a higher type than those corresponding to the coolie
class in India and Ceylon, many of this class in Java being Sudanese.
There are several strains of blood in Java, and a mixture of Arab
ancestry with Mohammedan faith; for centuries, Java passed through many
transitions, and it would be interesting to trace her history backward.
Djokjakarta being but twelve miles from the Indian Ocean, the heat is
never oppressive, and the breezes from sea and mountain produce an
agreeable temperature, as I found one morning, much to my delight. The
bazars were not enticing, but there were various attractive articles for
sale at the hotel,--cardcases made with tiny feathers, portemonnaies,
woven baskets, and, above all, sarongs, the product of a large factory
near by, which has been fostered by English and Dutch women as a kind of
philanthropy for the teaching and employment of girls, as the
"manageress" at the hotel explained to us. These sarongs are four and a
half yards long by one and one-half wide, the fabric, though heavier,
being similar to calico. The patterns are quite artistic, and the
process of designing, drawing, stamping, and weaving is complicated.
The Water Castle was formerly like a summer-house in an Oriental garden,
with its underground chambers and all manner of appliances for luxurious
ease. It has now fallen into decay; the aqueducts and fountains are
stilled; the statues are covered with moss, and the gardens are a
perfect tangle. It was the device of a Portuguese architect of a century
ago.
The streets were less crowded in Djokjakarta than one would expect in a
city which ranks the fifth in Java; everywhere there were groups of
really happy-faced children, and mothers looking like mere girls, with
infants carried usually on the left hip, sometimes in a sling over the
shoulders. In Java, as in other countries we have visited, there is no
middle-aged class among the women; they are either young or old,
although in reality not old. One is considerably handicapped in Java
unless Dutch or the dialect can be spoken, for, in learning from others
the true inwardness of things, we are powerless without language,
however much we might supply certain physical needs by the use of
pantomime.
* * * * *
MAOS, _February 25th_: At 2 P.M. on the 25th of February, we took the
train for Maos, in order to break the long railway journey to Batavia.
The ride of three and a half hours carried us through the same
diversified landscape of fertile fields or plains of rice, palms, and
bamboo, with mountains in the distance. One feature, however, deserves
special mention; it was a country roadway, visible at frequent intervals
for at least two hours, and lined on each side with tall trees which met
in many arches. This was evidently a highway or postroad, worthy of
emulation in other lands, and planned by the Government, a veritable
blessing to man and beast.
[Illustration: _Designing sarongs in Batavia_]
We passed a comfortable night in Maos at the Government rest house,
Staats, and left at the early hour of 6 A.M. for a return journey to
Batavia. We found that when we reached a junction, our train diverged
over a new route, giving us a different outlook, not unlike our first
experience, but, it seemed, with finer mountain scenery. First we
climbed to an altitude of about twenty-two hundred feet; then gradually
descended, our objective point, Batavia, being at sea-level. Many of the
high mountains showed cultivation to the very top, while the plains with
their alternate groups of bamboo, cocoanut, and other palms, were green
with the new rice crop, the cultivation of this commodity being
different in Java from that in Burma. Great care is expended on the
culture of the rice, the tiny plants first being put in small wet
enclosures; then, when sufficiently developed, they are planted
separately by the small army of workers, in receptacles made for them,
and set with the greatest regularity. The workers consist usually of
women or young girls, and the varied colors of their dress--or
undress--presented a marked feature. We also saw more coffee cultivated
than on any previous route, and it is to be regretted that the blight of
ten years ago has taken this old form of industry from the Javanese.
Strange as it may seem, we had no Java coffee in Java, the land of the
celebrated brand; nor did we see anything but a very strong extract of
coffee (to which was added a large quantity of milk), good and
convenient, no doubt, but not at all like the real article.
We arrived in Batavia during the afternoon; the hotel wore a homelike
air, and we passed a restful twenty-four hours with only a drive as the
regular programme. I have already treated of the marked natural
advantages of Java, and of the temples; too much cannot be said of this
"Garden of the East," with its varied landscape of alternating mountains
and plains, its wealth of trees in myriad forms, its shrubs which in
their luxuriance seem tree-like, and its tangle of vines and blossoming
flowers. But it appeared to me as if this holiday side of nature and the
workaday aspect of the life in Java did not harmonize, and I wondered if
this condition was caused by Dutch thrift being grafted on to the
native Javanese temperament, which in its incipiency was simple and
disinclined to much exertion. Certain it is that the women of Java,
while apparently contented, look careworn and have deep lines in their
faces, and the perfect cultivation of the soil,[5] which is largely done
by women, shows that constant toil must be required of them. Added to
this is the care of a bevy of little ones--more infants to the square
yard than I had ever seen before.
[Illustration: _Landscape near Batavia_]
These true children of Nature are seemingly trusting and believing, and
they ask no better fate than they have. The question obtrudes itself,
Would life have been easier if the English had not again ceded Java to
Holland in 1816, after only a five years' tenure? This query regarding
the Orient in general also comes up: Is it better to leave the peoples
undisturbed in their ignorance of the broader life and higher
conditions, or to try to teach them ways foreign to their
nature,--efforts which might end in failure? This is the problem that
confronts the philanthropist at every turn, and were it not for the
possibility of alleviating the condition of womanhood, it might be well
to abandon all charitable effort. Scientists believe, nevertheless, that
while it will be a slow, laborious process, much can be done in time;
it behooves us who have our homes in a country where it is a pleasure to
live not to turn a deaf ear to appeals like that made by Ramabai, who at
Pina, near Bombay, is laboring to uplift the condition of child widows
in India. The great volume of missionary effort is also turned in the
same direction, and through schools and hospitals the social workers are
paving the way toward better conditions, in spite of the criticism of
some who derisively speak of the failure to "save souls," without
thinking that the first step is to emancipate the body.
When I regard the condition of the women of the Orient, I feel like
starting an immediate crusade--in Egypt they are slaves or toys; in
India, bound by the iron laws of custom and caste, sad and dejected; in
Burma, happy because independent on business and property lines, thanks
to the English Government; in Ceylon, cheerful but with no recognized
positions; in Java, children of toil; in Siam, fearless and intrepid in
temperament, but subject to the conditions of the Orient; in China,
Manchuria, and Korea, seemingly impassive but bound by traditional
customs, enforced for centuries; in Japan, bright and winsome, true
children of Nature, still held by the customs of years, however much the
barriers are being broken down by the progressive policy of the country.
[Illustration: _Javanese vegetable sellers_]
As tourists remaining but a short time in a place, we did not have the
pleasure of meeting the higher class of women in any of the countries
visited, but I saw a Javanese lady in Kyoto who dined several times with
an English lady; her self-possession and dignity of manner were pleasant
to note, while her responsive smile showed quick intelligence. She had
been the wife of an English gentleman for twenty years, but still wore
the graceful kimono, which showed her good sense. Strange as it may
seem, the founder of Buddhism, with all his teaching of love to mankind,
filial duty, kindness to animals, and moral precepts in general, failed
to extend to women, for whom he is said to have had little respect, any
encouragement other than the abolishing of the law of caste. But,
notwithstanding, he had many women followers, some even becoming nuns.
The vehicles of the countries we visited were always individual, and I
have failed to allude to the peculiar sadoe of Java, a two-wheeled cart
drawn by a small horse, a seat for four persons being placed over the
axle. The driver is comfortable, but the passengers with no backs for
support are tossed about unmercifully. This sadoe has a canopy top; it
is like the jinrikisha, convenient for a shopping excursion, but I pity
any one who attempts to take a long drive in it! One morning I went out
alone, and in turning a street corner I was nearly thrown and my
packages flew in every direction. I felt that I needed a little
sympathy, but the imperturbable Dutch coachman(?) never even smiled, so
I concluded it was an every-day occurrence. A dignitary with attendants
on each side carrying umbrellas is amusing.
The variety of fruit is greater in Java than anywhere else we had been;
the bananas, however, while fine to look upon were coarse and had little
flavor; the pineapples were not as excellent as in Ceylon, nor were the
mangosteens. A photograph I have shows at least twenty-five varieties of
fruit; the pisang being universally used, as well as the rambutan,
durian, pomalo, and papaya. The bread-fruit and jack-fruit grow to
enormous size.
At luncheon (_riz taffel_) I again noticed a peculiar dish being served.
This consisted of rice, vegetables of various sorts, four or five kinds
of meat, and a wonderful mixture of condiments, the variety sometimes
including twenty, all placed in one receptacle similar to a deep
soup-plate and evidently enjoyed by the partakers; this was only one
course of the luncheon!
[Illustration: _A Javanese dignitary and his attendants_]
The Dutch ways of dressing in Java are truly remarkable; for instance,
sarongs, thin jackets, and almost bare feet were often seen in a
dining-room. To me the culmination of this unconventionality came later;
the heat was so oppressive that after luncheon I was glad to enjoy a
rocker on my gallery, and might have envied the couple on the adjoining
gallery had I been differently educated. For, strangely, the lady wore
only a sarong of thin material, a diaphanous jacket, and very low
sandals; she might almost have posed as a life model. As a foil, her
husband appeared in pajamas.
At 3 P.M. on February 22nd, we took a train for Priok port, which was
nine miles distant. The steamer _Orange_ (of the Dutch line) was waiting
for us, and we were soon sailing for Singapore. Once more we passed the
equator without one thrill of excitement, and, after thirty-six hours,
were at Singapore, where we were at once transferred to the steamer
_Nuen-tung_ (the Chinese for "good luck"), North German Lloyd line,
bound for Bangkok, Siam, the trip requiring four and a half days. The
steamer was small and only fairly comfortable; the service was Chinese.
A pleasant feature of the arrangement was an improvised dining-room on
the upper deck; here all our meals were served, and most of our time
passed, the temperature being high enough to prevent the chilling of the
food, which is an indication that the heat must have been rather
oppressive when in our staterooms. Hence two-thirds of the passengers
slept on deck, resulting at about nine in the evening in a veritable
transformation scene. In India we had escaped insects and reptiles; we
were very fortunate also in Burma, with only a few singing lizards in
Ceylon; but on this steamer the cockroaches which appeared at night were
marvellous in size and blackness. Once I imagined there was one on my
pillow, and turning on the electric light, found I was mistaken, but
there were a dozen or more on the washstand and walls--very animated
specimens, to judge by the way they fled.
From the Strait of Malacca we passed into the China Sea, thence to the
Gulf of Siam, and lastly to the broad Menam River, with banks showing
masses of foliage, and with tiny Siamese villages or isolated houses
built close to the water's edge, supported on piles, with thatched roofs
and sides.
* * * * *
BANGKOK, _March 4th_: Arriving at Bangkok, we took the steamer launch
for the Oriental Hotel, which is situated on the river-bank. The canals
leading out of the river reminded us of Batavia. A drive in the
afternoon of our arrival, accompanied by the Rev. Mr.----, a medical
missionary, as a non-professional guide, was a new experience and an
agreeable one, for during the afternoon and evening we learned many
things about the King that a native guide would not have told us. The
report showed the King to be progressive in his tendencies; as the
result of several trips to Europe, he has introduced railways,
telegraph and modern business appliances, and is making a great effort
to beautify the city and to improve sanitary conditions, having employed
French engineers for that purpose.
[Illustration: _The King of Siam_]
I think it might be well to give a slight historical background in order
the better to understand the conditions of Siam. It is thought that the
aborigines of Siam were driven out by Laos tribes from the North and
that they then adopted the name Thai as a sign of victory, Siam
signifying progress.
In 1350, Ayuthia, a few miles north of Bangkok, became the capital; for
three centuries Siam was prosperous and opened trade relations with
China. There were, however, many raids and much fighting until 1536,
when the King was taken prisoner.
The Portuguese commenced trading with Siam early in the sixteenth
century, and soon after gave the Siamese military aid against their
border foes, the troops coming from Goa. As a reward for their services
they were offered land on which to settle. Later, the soldiers married
Siamese women and became domesticated. As they had brought their
Catholic priests with them, conversion of the natives followed, and some
of the old settlements retain their Christian character to this day.
A few years after the Portuguese advent, the Dutch came, but the
English did not arrive until 1620, and during the latter part of the
seventeenth century the three nations were seeking trade relations.
Great toleration and friendliness to other countries seemed to have been
practiced even in that early day; French missionaries were also
welcomed. Soon after, a Siamese embassy left with presents for King
Louis of France, but they were shipwrecked on the way. Later, another
embassy went to Versailles, and Louis XIV, much flattered, sent a return
embassy, which was accorded a great reception in Lopburi, where a treaty
was signed in 1605, sanctioning the presence of French missionaries.
There were several subsequent upheavals at Ayuthia, and in 1767 the city
fell under the strong Burman attack; thus ended the third dynasty of
Siamese kings. The Burmans, however, were soon conquered, and the
capital was moved to Bangkok. In the middle of the nineteenth century,
treaties were made with Great Britain and the other important powers,
while Cambodia was ceded to France.
The present monarch, Chulalongkorn, ascended the throne in 1868, and has
since governed the country consistently and well. In May, 1874, a
political constitution was adopted. The King began his reign by
decreeing that slavery be abolished, and he instituted several other
reforms. For many years troublous times with France ensued; this
finally aroused the indignation of England, and in 1896 an Anglo-French
agreement was signed in London, by which both countries guaranteed to
maintain the integrity of the Menam valley.
Siam has during the past few years made rapid progress in the adoption
of Western ways and Western ideals, thanks to the progressive King, and
this is attracting visitors from Europe and America more and more. The
country's position has kept it rather isolated; it is out of the beaten
track, and is situated between the great commercial ports of Singapore
and Hong-Kong. Until recently it could not be reached by any passenger
steamship lines. One's impression of the kingdom must be formed largely
from Bangkok, as the mountain districts offer no facilities for the
comfort of visitors, being a decided contrast to Ceylon, Burma, and Java
in this respect.
The area of Siam is about two hundred thousand square miles, and the
population is over six million,--mostly native, for there are not over
twenty thousand representatives of other powers in the kingdom, nor are
there more than two thousand Europeans.
Bangkok, like Rangoon, has enormous exports of rice, teak, and many
other commodities; there are large rice factories, and we saw the
elephants dragging logs to the river, as in Rangoon, whence they are
brought on rafts to the immense sawmills. Unfortunately, a shallow bar
at the mouth of the Menam River prevents the passage of large vessels.
Therefore much of the cargo has to be carried to Koh-si-Chang, outside
the bar, a distance of fifty miles. Koh-si-Chang is quite a favorite
resort for the Europeans, Aughin on the coast being another. In the
latter place there is a large sanitarium.
The revenue of Siam has been mostly derived from the so-termed gambling
and opium farms. The gambling-houses were formerly great sights in the
country, but, according to the authority of a gentleman, gambling has
now been almost entirely abolished in the kingdom, through the strenuous
efforts of the King. He, however, has been unable to effect this reform
in Bangkok. For some time Siam has had a proposal before the powers
which import goods to the effect that the Government be allowed an
import duty of two per cent, which would furnish the needed revenue for
State expenses and thus enable the Government to abolish gambling in
Bangkok altogether. Thus far, the King's proposition has not been
accepted, showing that the interest of foreign powers controls affairs
in Siam as well as in other more civilized countries.
We visited several places of interest that first afternoon with Dr.
W---- as an excellent guide, going first to the Chinese quarter, and
then taking a general drive. We passed many attractive points,
particularly in the direction of the new section of the city, of which
Dusit Park is the centre. This is laid out in the fashion of a park in a
European capital, having walks, masses of foliage, and conventional
features in the arrangement of flowers and shrubs. What with the
tropical growth, it will soon excel any model the King may have seen in
his European tour.
A new palace is situated near the park, and as soon as this was begun, a
real-estate development was started around it; the jungle disappeared,
roads were laid out, and buildings sprang up. Dusit Park is now the
scene of many activities, and a fancy fair is held there every year,
with a view to secure funds for the building of the new Wat, or temple,
which is adjacent, the old one showing signs of decadence.
Buddhism is the State religion, and the King is an ardent devotee; new
Wats are in constant process of erection, and those in existence are
lavishly decorated. The new temple alluded to shows European influence
in its arrangement, having a cloister around a square court in the rear.
Two other temples were visited, and a further drive taken. On our return
we went to the place of places in Bangkok, thoroughly Chinese in
character,--a combination of gambling-den, chop-house, and theatre,
covering in space about a block. The gambling-den was dimly lighted, and
on the floor in a large circle were seated men and women, either
playing the game of fan-tan or anxiously awaiting their turn. I did not
understand the game, but the haggard expressions and restless attitudes
around me told a tale of dissipation and ruin. We remained only a few
moments, then passed into the chop-house, which was crowded and where
eatables of the Chinese type were _en évidence_ in every direction. The
theatre was not yet open, but it was spacious, with a large stage. This
compound is only one of several, and while mainly patronized by Chinese,
many Siamese and people of other nationalities are drawn in. Tales
similar to those heard in Monte Carlo could be related. It is to be
hoped that erelong the King will bring about some measure to abolish
this standing menace to the morals of the community.
A pleasant dinner and much discussion followed. We learned that there
were fine hospitals and schools under different missionary auspices, Dr.
W---- being Presbyterian. To prove the success of the so-called
Christian effort, he stated that the King gave every encouragement to
all denominations, and also donated money to aid in building churches,
feeling that their influence in the country was good.
[Illustration: _In the Royal Palace of Wang Chang, Bangkok_]
The Roman Catholics on account of their priority have a wide field in
Siam; they have erected about sixty churches in the kingdom. But there
are, nevertheless, several Protestant churches of different
denominations in Bangkok and in the interior. A special permit is
necessary before visiting Wang Chang, the royal palace, a point of much
interest. The walls around the building enclose a wide area, including
the old mint and various Government departments. Just in the rear of the
Department of the Interior, the sacred white elephants are to be found,
five in number. They are, however, at present pale gray (whatever they
may have been in the past), which detracts somewhat from the validity of
the previous statement. Each animal has a house to himself, is greatly
petted, and it is expected that the elephants will be treated by
visitors to bananas, and the attendants to cigarettes.
Approaching the palace, the Royal Halls of Audience are the most
striking feature. The building in which they are to be found is very
large and of a semi-classic style of architecture, the Italian and
Siamese being blended. These halls are the only portions of the palace
to which visitors are admitted. Fronting this building on the opposite
side of a half square stand several small buildings of a pleasing style.
These contain antique articles, such as boats, bronze cannon, and other
relics in bronze.
One of the most striking features in this palace enclosure is Prakeo,
the royal temple. Its entrance is unique, while the Chinese "Devil
Protectors" at each side are grotesque. The temple also contains the
celebrated emerald Buddha, a figure, eighteen inches high, made from the
largest emerald known in the world. There is, moreover, an exquisite
small gold Buddha in a glass case, besides many rare vases and other
articles with, of course, the usual Buddhas in the shrine. Next to the
palace is a recreation ground, called Premane, where golf is played. The
race track, however, has been removed to Sapatoom. A very fine Wat Poh
near the palace contains an immense sleeping Buddha and many other
interesting features, one of which is a small painted dado illustrating
the legend of Rama.
The royal museum, Wang Nah, is near the royal palace. It is full to
repletion with objects of interest, especially to the ethnologist and to
the archæologist. Some of the treasures are almost beyond price in
value, but they are not very well displayed. The galleries are open to
the public, free of charge, and the visitors' book is quite interesting,
as it contains the signatures of a number of royalties and celebrities.
Several of the attendants spoke excellent English and were most
courteous in their explanations.
[Illustration: _Entrance to Prakeo, the Royal Temple_]
Fronting the royal palace are the artillery and royal body-guard
barracks and the Hall of the Ambassadors, where distinguished visitors
are entertained during their stay. Not far distant are the royal
Courts of Justice, a Doric building, whose interior is arranged in
European style. The State barges are kept near the museum and across the
river. Some of them are very large and have room for one hundred rowers,
whilst most of them are very ancient. These boats are used in the State
functions on the river. Almost directly opposite the palace is a naval
dockyard. It is not large compared with those of Europe and America, but
a great variety of work is carried on. There are large machine shops and
spacious quarters for officers and marines, a graving dock capable of
accommodating vessels of large size, and an ice factory which supplies
the navy and the royal palace. There is also a fine Royal Military
College in Siam. Other Government departments show the great progress of
the country, particularly when it is remembered that fifty years ago
Bangkok had no facilities whatsoever.
In the afternoon we took a steam launch to explore different canals. The
first we visited in order to acquaint ourselves with the traffic and
with various kinds of boats, some being loaded at warehouses along the
way. The buildings were very unusual, as were the sights on the water.
We then went on the river Menam, to visit certain temples. Among these
were Wat Saket, which stands on the summit of an artificial hill and
commands a fine view; and Wat Kanayat, where there was a collection of
porcelain-trimmed temples and pagodas. We attended a short, intoned
Buddhist service in one of the temples. In another, Wat Cheng, we had
our fortunes told in the following manner: we each drew from a vase a
long, narrow slip of paper with a number on it, then we proceeded to a
priest, robed in yellow silk, presented our number, paid a fee, and in
return received a pink paper containing a great many hieroglyphics,
which our guide was able to interpret. Each fortune was rather peculiar
and diversified in details. We, however, did not attach any importance
to what was told us.
The roofs of some of the Wats are very handsome, the parti-colored tiles
of which they are composed adding to their effect, whilst the pointed
upturned gables, a feature peculiar to Siamese architecture, also added
in no small degree to their picturesqueness.
All the principal Wats are accessible to visitors, but it is necessary
to have with you a guide who can explain the different features.
Sometimes the priests have a knowledge of English. Many of the Wats are
suffering greatly from the ravages of time, and some are almost ruined.
Of course this applies to the more remote temples, those in the vicinity
of the palace being beautifully cared for. The King and other members of
the royal family spend vast sums upon the temples; nobles and wealthy
Siamese likewise contribute largely to the funds, but all their efforts
are not sufficient to keep the numberless places in proper condition.
[Illustration: _The Klong Canal at Bangkok_]
The King, who is now the sole reigning Buddhist monarch, takes the
greatest interest in the maintenance of his faith and everything
belonging to it. He is an ardent Pali scholar, and has established a
college for the study of that ancient language. Nearly every State
function which takes place within the palace walls is associated with
some religious service, and the Buddhist faith seems to be deeply rooted
in the heart of the Siamese people. The sacred books used in the temples
are of palm-leaf, similar in style to those seen in Burma; a large
number of women are employed in a factory for their manufacture, while
many men are also there for the purpose of engraving characters on the
palm-leaf with a set of special implements.
It had been a perfect afternoon, and the shores of the broad river Menam
(meaning "Mother of Waters") were more than usually interesting on
account of the novel architectural display, temples alternating with
buildings of various descriptions, most of them gleaming white in the
sun. We made a detour into the Klong Canal, which led out of the river
some miles from our starting-point. Soon we had an entirely different
type of scenery, similar to the jungle; dense vegetation came quite to
the edge of the canal. In places there would be two, three, or even more
Siamese houses built high on piles, with thatched roofs and sides and an
open front, the home life of the inmates being distinctly seen through
the open front. Of course our launch served to collect all the curious
in groups, from infants to grandparents. Ever and anon tiny boats passed
us, the rowers singing or twanging some kind of an instrument with that
happy unconsciousness of responsibility which seems to characterize the
Siamese, reminding one of the days in Rangoon.
We came at last to a point where navigation was impeded because of a
large vessel aground, and after skilful manoeuvring and some minutes'
delay, our launch proceeded on the homeward way. Night was upon us
before we left the canal, and as the twilight faded, the gleaming of the
lights in the little homes put a finishing touch to the picture. Once on
the broad river, the shore effect was more wonderful than by day, and we
lost all note of time until we were told at the hotel landing that it
was half-past seven o'clock.
The following morning we left, at half-past six, for an excursion by
rail and river to the old capital, Ayuthia. The ride of three hours in a
car presented no special features. But we then took a steam launch and
proceeded some miles farther in order to visit the ruins of the old
palace and the elephants' kraal. Skirting in and out, we saw about three
miles of houseboats on sampans. This was a most interesting spectacle,
all kinds of traffic being carried on, some space aboard being reserved
for the family. There were boats for the sale of flowers and vegetables,
others for household commodities, and some had crockery and glass and
baskets. We then visited two temples. The ruins cover an immense space
of ground and are a fine field for archæologists, but we had no means of
classifying them and our guide was not scientific. Many of the most
interesting relics are surrounded by a dense jungle which makes them
difficult of access, but one receives a certain impression of the
ancient grandeur of the place.
Tradition states that the custom of wearing the hair short by Siamese
women dates from the days when Ayuthia was a capital. It is said that
during one of the political invasions by the Burmans most of the men
were absent in the harvest fields. The women accordingly cut their hair,
took bows and arrows and spears, and manned the city walls. The Burmans,
thinking they were men, were astonished at finding such a strong
garrison and retired, much discomfited. It is also said that the women
then adopted the same dress as the men, the panung, a garment something
like the sarong but drawn up in the middle, front and back. The cutting
of the hair and the peculiar garb make it difficult to tell the Siamese
women from the men. The style is distinctive with the women, as all of
the surrounding people--the Burmans, Laos, and Malays--wear the sarong.
A walk of ten minutes from Wang Chang brought us to the famous
elephants' kraal, or enclosure, into which the elephants are driven to
be captured and tamed. This is a massive structure of teak logs, with a
kind of V-shaped passage leading to it. When a hunt is to occur, the
places frequented by the elephants are noted weeks beforehand, and they
are gradually surrounded by some hundreds of men mounted upon trained
elephants and also afoot, the elephants being gradually driven towards
the entrance of the kraal. Within, there is an exciting scene, as the
ponderous, awkward animals find themselves pressed onwards _en masse_
through the massive gate into the enclosure. Once inside, they are
dexterously captured by long leg ropes, whilst their struggles are kept
from assuming dangerous proportions by trained elephants which range up
alongside of them and aid their masters in every possible way,
apparently taking quite a delight in the task. These hunts occur at
regular intervals, and are generally attended by a large number of
foreign visitors. Accidents, even deaths, sometimes happen, but these
are not frequent. We regretted we were not in Siam at the proper season
to witness such a scene.
[Illustration: _The famous Elephants' Kraal_]
After a picnic luncheon, we proceeded down the river, stopping at
different points to visit temples of varying interest; one was
particularly noteworthy, as it contained a very large Buddha in the back
of the temple and a row of brass Buddhas around three of its sides, some
of them in fine repoussé work. At Ban Pa In we left the launch to take
the train. Here the King has two palaces.
Ban Pa In is on an island in the Menam River. One handsome palace is in
the European style, and another is of a pure Chinese pattern. There is a
modern temple of Gothic style, built fifteen years ago. Near the palace
a tower affords a fine view.
We arrived at Bangkok late in the afternoon, feeling well pleased with
our day's excursion.
Fifty years ago Bangkok had none of the public buildings to be seen
to-day,--perhaps a mile of good road and streets in only fair condition;
now there are numerous drives and perfect communication to every point
of the city. There are twelve miles of electric railway line, soon to be
extended, while leading out from Bangkok are hundreds of miles of
well-equipped railways. Jinrikishas are used in Bangkok, but with
foreigners carriages are preferred. The native street, called Sampeng,
is really a Chinese-Siamese combination, and might be termed a bazar on
the order of those visited in previous cities. The streets, filled with
strong odors, are small lanes running parallel with the river, and to me
were less interesting than previous bazars, the venders seeming to be
apathetic and having less variety of goods. This impression may,
however, have been due to the midday hour, for the natives,
understanding the climate, are only alert during the mornings and
evenings. The season may also have lessened the dash and excitement of
the street. We were told there were quite as many tribes and
nationalities represented in Bangkok as in Singapore, and such a mixture
usually means novelty. The dress and undress in Siam afforded variety,
the men and women nearly alike, for, as stated in the description in
connection with Ayuthia, the women have short hair and wear the panung
precisely like the men.
The guides in Siam are not very competent, and could give us only
ordinary information, so there was little for us to do but to speculate
on certain points.
[Illustration: _Tower of Royal Palace at Ban-Pa-In_]
There are several interesting towns which are within a few hours'
railway communication with Bangkok, but we could only read of them, as
none of them had hotels or even rest houses for the convenience of
tourists. This state of things will be remedied as soon as it is
realized that the outside world is interested in this far-away kingdom,
the first tourist party having visited Siam only two years ago. We were
hampered before reaching this country by the lack of a guide-book (as we
had been in Java), Murray's enlightening knowledge having extended only
through India, Burma, and Ceylon; but after our arrival in Bangkok we
found some local guide-books, from which we learned of the towns alluded
to.
Petchaburi seemed one of the most interesting on account of the
wonderful caves and temples, a description of which I will give in
brief, in order to prove that Siam, like the other countries previously
visited, has unusual attractions along these lines. The railway to
Petchaburi was opened in 1902, and the journey takes five and a half
hours from Bangkok. It is an old historic town of much importance and
the centre of a very populous district. It is picturesquely situated on
both banks of the stream, curving seaward at the foot of some wooded
hills. One of the hills is crowned with the royal palace and another
with a handsome temple. The palace is a magnificent edifice and commands
wide views on all sides, the sea being clearly seen from the
observatory. The hill on which is situated the temple, and its
companion, are known as Kow Wang.
Descending a well-constructed, if somewhat precipitous, staircase for
what must be fully a hundred feet, we find ourselves in a cave from
which a very spacious archway leads into a huge vaulted chamber. The
first impression is one of acute astonishment, by no means lessened,
even after one becomes accustomed to the dim light inside. By rough
calculation the cave is about two hundred yards long by one hundred
wide. The floor is paved throughout with tiles, and at every turn there
is an image of Buddha. At one end there is a statue fully fifteen feet
high in a niche fronting the entrance, and near by is one twelve feet
high. In a wide passage, leading to another extensive cave, is a statue
of the sleeping Buddha, apparently about fifteen feet long, and in the
semi-gloom which surrounds him, suggestive of eternal calm and peace. In
this cave are more Buddhas, sitting, standing, and reclining.
Thence, on through a somewhat low and dark tunnel, we go to yet another
cave, from which a short passage leads upward to what was the original
dark entrance. This is now impassable, as the stairs have collapsed.
Many curious stalactites are in clusters, some like inverted lilies and
others like canopies or umbrellas; they are of all sizes, ranging from a
few inches to several feet in diameter and some are tinted in various
shades. The caves are well worth visiting, and a view of them will
adequately repay the time and expense of the journey from Bangkok. In
the centre of the town and near a quaint wooden bridge stands Wat
Mahathal, conspicuous by reason of its unfinished brick tower, on the
summit of which a couple of trees are growing; a quadrangle surrounding
this contains one hundred and ninety-five images of Buddha, which are of
interest if only because of the different expressions of their
countenances.
[Illustration: _A Siamese girl_]
The American Presbyterian Mission has a commodious hospital, pleasantly
situated on the river bank, which enjoys a high reputation among the
natives. There are two distinct tribes of Laos inhabiting this district.
The women, on account of their peculiar headgear and jackets of dark
cloth and short sarong, are interesting. The cultivation of rice is the
prevailing industry in this district.
Judging by the number of Siamese feasts and festivals there are in the
calendar, a holiday must always be in order. The Siamese official year
opens April 1st, and about that time, a date regulated by the moon, the
New Year holiday occurs. This is not celebrated quite as vigorously as
it formerly was, but the country people make it the occasion for
performing some great deed of merit, and this proves a time of harvest
for the priests. Every one wears his best clothes, a special kind of
cake is served, and the temples are thronged. Gambling laws are set
aside, and in every house may be seen some game of chance. On the
evening of the second day, for the festival continues through a period
of three, all the guns along the palace walls are fired thirty-six
times.
The Astronomical New Year soon follows, when the images of Buddha are
sprinkled with water, while the priests hold a festival at the royal
palace. Priests and aged people are presented with gifts.
When the sixth Siamese moon is at its full, the birth, inspiration, and
death of the Lord Buddha are observed with great veneration; good deeds
prompt every one, alms are given to the poor, and fine robes sent to the
priests.
Twice a year the ceremonial drinking of the water of allegiance takes
place at the royal palace. The princes, nobles, and principal Government
officials assemble, drink, and sprinkle their foreheads with water in
which various weapons have been dipped. Appropriate religious services
are also held. The principal European officials also conform to this
custom, which usually occurs in the months of March, April, and
September.
[Illustration: _A royal barge at Bangkok_]
The ploughing ceremony takes place in May and marks the beginning of the
planting season. The King is represented by the Minister of Agriculture,
who goes with a procession to the selected spot, and, after some
religious service, takes hold of a plough which is drawn by two gayly
bedecked oxen. After scratching the ground for about an hour, four
ladies of the royal household, attired in ancient costumes, sow various
kinds of seed carried in gilded baskets. The grain thus scattered is
considered sacred, and there is a wild scramble for it at the close.
Many signs and symbols are attached to various parts of the ceremony,
which usually takes place at Dusit Park.
A swinging festival is very unique and interesting, but is quite
complicated and has to be seen to be understood. The swing is very high
and I think is stationary.
Another ceremony is the giving of priests' robes. This lasts a month,
and the King or his deputies visit every Wat in the kingdom. At this
time the boat racing at the Pakman Wat occurs, and the royal barge and
State boats are all brought out for the occasion. At another festival,
the Loy Krathong (all these celebrations have their Siamese names), the
river Menam and the canals present a gala appearance, being dotted at
night with thousands of miniature ships, rafts, and boats, each
brilliantly lighted and bearing offerings to the goddess of water. This
festival occurs in October and November.
But the greatest occasion of the year is the King's birthday, September
20th, the three following days being included in the festival.
Everywhere the city is a blaze of red and white bunting, and at night it
is brilliant with myriad lights, presenting a fairylike scene. About
this time the Foreign Office gives its annual ball, a brilliant occasion
for which invitations are in great demand.
Siamese ceremonies are quite as peculiar as their feasts. The habit of
cutting the long tuft of hair, which is left on children's heads until
they have attained their growth, is very striking, and at the royal
palace very elaborate preparations are made, which include religious
ceremonies and the use of a golden jewelled instrument resembling
shears.
In Siam cremation is the general way of disposing of the dead. Among the
wealthy classes the body is embalmed and kept sometimes three years
before the ceremony, which is conducted with great pomp and on a very
expensive plan, gifts being distributed among all the attendant friends
and sums of money given to the priests and to the poor. The Chinese, of
which there are large numbers, are usually buried, but in case of a
mixed marriage the children are cremated.
There are many superstitions. A peculiar one in court circles is the
wearing of a different-colored panung each day of the week,--on Sunday,
red; Monday, cream; Tuesday, purple; and so on,--for good luck. Another
is the use of buttons adorned with representations of animals,
symbolical of the year in which certain persons are born,--this also for
good luck. The tendency naturally leads to great respect being shown to
fortune-tellers. The youth of Siam are, however, it is said, outgrowing
this superstitious condition.
One time-honored custom is, however, in greater vogue than ever, and
that is massage, which is employed by all classes.
While the foreign residents of Bangkok are not large in number, they
have made their impress felt, and in no way more markedly than in the
amusements which they have inaugurated. There are sixteen organizations,
many of them recreation clubs for golf, tennis, and cricket, but there
are also a literary club, a dramatic club, a Philharmonic Society, and a
gymnasium. Bangkok has a good library, containing books of travel,
reference, and fiction.
Racing is popular and is generally attended by the King, who gives gold
cups for prizes. Hunting is in great favor, for game can be found near
Bangkok, and at not a remote distance lurk the rhinoceros, buffalo,
tiger, leopard, deer, antelope, hare, and crocodile. Elephants abound,
but may not be shot.
Bangkok, as a city, becomes distinctively individual as one learns more
of it; for instance, the telegraph and the telephone lines are
controlled by the postal department and are working satisfactorily under
this régime. As early as 1902, important fiscal changes were introduced:
one was the closing of the mints to free silver, and the other an
issuance of paper currency notes. The first meant the practical adoption
of a gold standard. I cite these examples as showing still further
progressive methods.
There are holiday resorts on the east coast of the gulf, where Bangkok
residents can retire for a change of air. These have been mentioned.
There are also remoter places of great interest farther in the interior
and in the mountains, which will soon be available for travellers.
Rathburi is an old walled town of importance. Near here, the French
Catholic priests have a mission house and seminary. The American
Presbyterian Mission owns a fine hospital, and two missionary families
are stationed here.
Phrapatoon is the seat of a large pagoda which is visible for many miles
around. It was formerly gilded and was built in style similar to the
pagodas seen in Burma.
With all the available information about the kingdom of Siam, one cannot
but feel that it has a future full of possibilities; certain it is that
the measures already inaugurated by the King are made for the welfare of
his people.
The tropical growth of Siam impressed us only slightly, as we had just
come from Java, "the garden of the earth." Otherwise we should have been
enthusiastic over the beauty of the landscape and the luxurious growth
of trees and plants.
There was no special programme on our last morning in Bangkok, and so I
wandered around for final impressions and for photographs. I had an
amusing little talk with what proved to be the court photographer. Among
other notables of the realm, he showed me a picture of the Crown Prince,
whereupon I innocently asked him how many sons there were. He replied,
"Sixty-seven," and that he had taken all their photographs. The reply
was rather startling, and I impulsively asked, "And how many daughters?"
He looked blank and admitted that he did not know. Of course I
understood that the family relations of the King were modelled on
strictly Oriental lines, and that he had three legal wives, the number
prescribed by law; but I was unprepared for a statement that showed a
daughter in a royal household to be such a nonentity as the above
implied.
When I visited the market, I saw an unlimited number of fruits as well
as vegetables; cocoanuts, plantains, bananas, durians, pineapples,
bread-fruit, jack-fruit, dates, almonds, pomaloes, mangoes (fifty
varieties), mangosteens, custard apples, limes, oranges, tamarinds,
figs, and papayas, all are to be found here in their proper season. I
did not even know the names of some, but never again do I hope to see
such a display.
There were fewer flowers than I had been led to expect, but the flora of
Siam is said to be particularly rich in unusual varieties of orchids,
which are found flourishing abundantly even in the jungles, and a visit
would well repay a collector. A person can find a rich field in Siam
along many lines of investigation.
We left Bangkok in the afternoon on the steamer _Nuen-tung_ for a five
days' return trip to Singapore. I have already alluded to the "sand bar"
which is an obstacle to navigation; hence it is that the heavy freight
vessels anchor fifty miles distant at Koh-si-Chang, but I learned later
that this obstacle could have been removed by dredging, had not the
authorities declined to take any action, as the "bar" furnished a safe
means of defence should war ever occur.
We saw various pagodas as we advanced; the most noted example was in the
village of Pakman. As viewed through masses of foliage, it reminded us
of the trip on the Irrawaddy River in Burma. A cargo of rice was taken
on at Koh-si-Chang, and we did not leave there until eleven, the day
following. A group of islands similarly called was a feature of the
trip. It was cooler when we entered the Gulf of Siam, and the China
Sea was favorably smooth. The conditions of the steamer were unchanged,
but they had grown familiar to us, and even the cockroaches no longer
intimidated me.
[Illustration: _The collier quay at Singapore_]
* * * * *
SINGAPORE: We arrived at Singapore early in the morning, and for a third
time viewed the shores; on this trip we went to the Raffles Hotel for a
brief sojourn. The place is airy, capacious, and semi-Oriental, and
reminded us of Colombo, as did the temperature, for although but two
degrees from the equator, the air was like June at home, and without any
of the chill in the evening that we sometimes experience; so it was a
great pleasure to sit out in the corridor-like veranda and listen to the
music. It was all so contrary to our expectations, for we had been told
fearful tales about heat, insects, and general discomfort on the Malay
Peninsula, or on what they term the "Straits Settlements."
* * * * *
JOHORE: To commence with, we devoted the first afternoon to an excursion
to Johore, the capital of an independent Malay province, whose Sultan
reigns with pomp and ceremony. After a railway ride, we took the ferry
across the river, where a scene of loveliness awaited us. The city is
unpretentious in appearance, but our afternoon excursion revealed to us
a varied landscape with a tropical growth. We visited a plantation
where india rubber, one of the chief articles of export, is cultivated;
then a large Mohammedan mosque, finely located on an eminence. The tiger
house on this particular day held but one inmate, who showed no desire
to devour us.
The grounds surrounding the palace are as spacious and as well cared for
as a botanical garden, with the brilliant flowers, blossoming trees, and
a great number of red sealing-wax palms. The palace is luxuriantly
embowered in vines and trees. Johore is a famous gambling-place, but the
"parlors" were deserted on this afternoon, and we could see only the
fine furnishings in carved teakwood.
The stay in Johore ended with tea at a hotel. Here we saw the real
Sultan entertaining a party of Europeans. He looked young and was
dressed in an immaculate English style, quite unlike the striped calico
suits displayed by royalty at Jeypore, India. He came in a French
automobile, and is said to pass half his time in Singapore, being fond
of society. We arrived in Singapore for dinner, and during the evening a
delightful surprise awaited me in the appearance of two Milwaukee
friends.
[Illustration: _The Sultan's Palace at Johore_]
The following day much ground was covered, for, by invitation of
Cincinnati friends, I took a motor ride of about forty miles amidst
undreamed-of beauty, both near the city and in the surrounding
country. There were streets lined with villas whose gardens were full of
a luxuriant growth of shrubs and flowers; some of them had the quaintest
high-arched gateways, with coats of arms and animals carved in stone on
each side of the entrance. The Botanical Gardens were very interesting,
as was also the park, miles from the city, and laid out around the
reservoir, which furnishes all the water supply. We went on and on until
we reached the "Gap," where a mountain view awaited us. We visited the
shops and bazars before luncheon, and in the afternoon all of us
explored the native Malay quarter. The dress of the women was unlike any
other seen in the Orient. The Chinese seemed to be the real residents,
for everywhere they prevailed in large numbers.
In whatever direction we went, new features revealed themselves, and we
commended the wisdom of Sir Stamford Raffles in founding this island
city with its wonderful harbor, where shipping from almost all parts of
the world congregates, making the active sights at the quay at once
novel and business-like. Indians, Sikhs, Malays, and other nationalities
are represented, but the Chinese perform all the menial labor required.
The coolie is a character,--patient, hard-working, uncomplaining,
supplying a demand throughout the Orient, made necessary, as we have
seen, by the indolence of the Burmese and of the Malays, to mention only
two examples.
Singapore is very gay in the season, and a centre for the wealth of the
Far East; indeed, sultans and nabobs consider it a veritable Paris.
The last morning of our stay, I went around in a jinrikisha, and my man
was as fleet as a horse. I had an experience trying to find so simple an
article as a paper of pins, visiting shop after shop. Evidently they
have not learned the ways of the American department store!
* * * * *
HONG-KONG: We sailed in the late afternoon on the steamer _Moltke_ for a
five days' voyage to Hong-Kong, with a feeling that we had experienced
no discomfort but much pleasure in the seemingly maligned city of
Singapore.
We passed the Strait of Malacca without any untoward excitement, and we
steamed along pleasantly with a group of passengers who looked well-bred
and agreeable; as time went on, our first impression of them was
corroborated. A delightful feature aboard was music every evening in the
salon, mostly singing. There was a service on Sunday, both for the
first-class and second-class passengers. We soon entered the China Sea,
which was to be our sole waterway to Hong-Kong, fifteen hundred miles
distant, or rather to the Straits of Formosa, which guard the China
Sea on the north, as the Strait of Malacca does on the south. We reached
port on the morning of March 20th, and the approach--past many islands,
along the fine harbor, with its high rocky shores, towering mountains in
the background, and a terraced city in the foreground--gave us a new
sensation. We landed at Kowloon and were taken across to Hong-Kong
(which, properly and legally speaking, is Victoria).
[Illustration: _A general view of Hong-Kong_]
[Illustration: _The public gardens in Hong-Kong_]
Fronting the landing is a long street of fine stone business houses,
which extend tier after tier from the shore and in a way represent the
city's commercial importance.
The Hong-Kong Hotel is situated in the business centre; although under
English management, the service was entirely Chinese, and at luncheon we
were confronted by an array of waiters with braids around their heads
and wearing long blue garments made like aprons; the ensemble was indeed
most depressing. The menu presented a curious feature, the courses being
numbered, and you were expected to point to the number, but woe to any
one who wished an egg boiled four minutes or a piece of rare roast!
Hong-Kong is on the north shore of the island, and dampness prevails
even when it does not rain (there is an unusual amount of rain); in
consequence, great care has to be observed by the residents, both of
their homes and clothing. Yet, notwithstanding this and other
disabilities, the English have made the island "blossom like a rose."
Engineering enterprise has converted the mountain-side into an
attractive residence centre. A railway leading to the Peak (the highest
point in the landscape) is not only a convenience, but a pleasure on
account of the magnificent view afforded along the ascent. A little
lower is an attractive Peak Hotel, which is popular with residents. At
every point on the heights there are features to impress one, as we
found the afternoon of our arrival, when we took jinrikishas to visit
Happy Valley, where are located the public garden and the Protestant
cemetery, which is also laid out like a park. The Catholic cemetery is
near by and has the same general features. Happy Valley is also the
scene for various sports, such as golf, tennis, croquet, and racing, in
which Hong-Kong abounds.
The afternoon of our visit, we walked about to various points, enjoying
the views, and commending the perfection which had been wrought since
1842, when China ceded the island to Great Britain. Realizing that
Hong-Kong was destined to be a world port, England some years since
leased a portion of the mainland from China for further harbor
facilities. This strip extends back thirty miles and is held for a
term of ninety-nine years. The city retains its former name, Kowloon,
but its business facilities are all under English management. The miles
of docks, warehouses, shipyards, and machine shops are another proof of
the wisdom and forethought with which Great Britain carries out her
plans for colonizing alien places.
[Illustration: _A typical street in a Chinese city_]
Hong-Kong was destined to be our headquarters for nearly two weeks; it
is a convenient point from which to make excursions. On the first Sunday
morning I attended service at the English Cathedral; the building is on
the heights, surrounded by a well-kept close and overlooking a fine
residence portion of the city. I was conveyed to church in a sedan chair
on account of the steep ascent. During our excursion to the Peak, we
first took a railway chair, then a sedan chair; leaving that, we had a
long climb before we reached the summit, where there is a flagstaff.
What a view was before us--mountains in the distance, the harbor and the
islands, shipping of all kinds, and roofs of every description!
Descending, we had tea at the Peak Hotel. Another afternoon we went in a
launch to Kowloon. We took a jinrikisha for a general exploration of the
old Chinese city, and aside from what has been indicated, we went
through the native quarter, saw several temples, visited a Chinese
school, and ascended the high wall for a view. Much of the wall is
unimpaired. A drive in the country followed, and we saw many tiny
Chinese gardens and a number of cemeteries.
The jinrikisha ride to Aberdeen, a fishing village some miles distant,
proved delightful. The roadway was sometimes close to the water's edge;
then we ascended and looked down over low cliffs, with coves ever and
anon dotting the shore. It reminded me continually of the ride from
Sorrento to Amalfi, and again of the Upper Corniche drive from Mentone
to Nice.
Early on Wednesday, March 25th, we left on the steamer _Keung Shang_ for
a visit to Canton, ninety miles distant. Leaving the commercial city and
a fleet of shipping vessels behind us, we had some miles of lake
scenery; then we had islands and the coast line beyond. Soon we were in
Pearl River, and the surroundings grew more picturesque,--now a little
village near the water's edge with a mountain behind, and then more
islands and more mountain ranges. We had a glimpse of Castle Peak, two
thousand feet high. We then passed an immense prominence, called the
Half-Way Rock. At a place known as Tiger's Mouth, fortifications were
seen. The country soon becomes flat, with rice fields and fruit farms;
we saw the Whampoa Pagoda and some miles farther on the Honam Pagoda.
Near Canton, we passed another pagoda, and then the white spire of the
French cathedral gleamed out, and our goal was reached. It is a most
interesting river trip, and is unfortunately more often taken at night,
in order to economize time.
The first impression of Canton is one of noise, a fearful din rising and
falling in a kind of cadence, and seeming to proceed largely from an
immense flotilla of boats extending a long way, tied, in a majority of
cases, seven and eight rows deep--craft of all kinds, sampans, junks,
rice boats, freight, each with its quota of humanity, for this is a
veritable floating city, with a life all its own, and almost wholly
independent of the Canton proper which we were about to visit and which
numbered a hundred thousand souls.
We had not anticipated much enjoyment in Canton, having read of the dirt
and smells, but we had not expected to be deafened at our very entrance,
and I think for the time being it dulled the consciousness of this
wonderful spectacle of a floating independent city just at the door of a
city whose name is famous the world over.
* * * * *
CANTON, _March 25th_: We were soon conveyed up a back canal to the
Shameen (the name of the city of foreign concession), where our
quarters, the Hotel Victoria, were located. My room was situated on the
ground floor, the gallery opening on a large garden or court, abloom
with trees and flowers. There was no key to the door, and strangers were
all about me, but the complacent manner in which I met this fact caused
me to realize that my courage was greater than when at Jeypore in
far-away India.
The first afternoon, a jinrikisha ride convinced us that we were in the
most congested city on the face of the globe; a city of streets so
narrow that two chairs could hardly pass each other; a city of strange
sights and more violent contrasts than any we had yet seen. And the
smells!--the English language does not contain words strong enough to
describe them. In the bazar portion of the city we were diverted by the
box-like shops, with their open fronts, and filled with curios, works in
jade, wood, and unique articles of feather jewelry.
Then the wonderful Chinese signs! We had noticed and admired them in
Hong-Kong, but in size and beauty they now far excelled anything of the
kind we had seen before. They extended from an upper story, for these
bazars were many of them on the ground floor of four-story apartments,
each story having its front gallery where one could witness diversified
scenes of family life. The signs are about a half a yard wide and are
decorated from top to bottom, with gold and brilliant colors, the
Chinese letters forming a large feature of the display. These signs
(sometimes five grouped together) are wonderfully effective, as they
sway back and forth in the wind, and they are a partial indication of
the Chinese industry which prevails.
[Illustration: _A five-story pagoda_]
There were larger shops in better locations in the city, and here we
found the grass linen embroidered articles and the crape for which
Canton is famous.
The following morning, we departed on a more serious sight-seeing
expedition, to include all manner of typical Cantonese places, but
before I had been out an hour I decided that the description of one
temple only would not adequately convey a true impression, for
everywhere we went things seemed unreal and grotesque, but interesting.
First, we entered what our guide termed the Medicine Temple, not so very
large, where on the opposite side of the room huge idols were placed
before all manner of receptacles for holding medicine; next a Buddhist
Temple, very inferior to any we had seen; then a Confucian temple, plain
like the majority of them; while a Shinto temple had the characteristic
torii before it. This latter I will describe when Japan, the land of the
torii, is the topic.
The Five-story Pagoda is quite imposing, as it is placed on the city
wall and commands a wide view. It is the custom for parties to go there
and take their picnic luncheon, and our guide had planned for us to do
this, but unfortunately the pagoda was being repaired and visitors were
not permitted. So we proceeded to a large building on an eminence, which
was furnished like a club house and was evidently for public use. There
was a conventional garden in front, affording a very extended view.
A visit to the so-called "Home of the Dead" followed; this was unlike
anything ever experienced before. We entered an enclosure, laid out
partly as a garden; there were walks leading around, and some of them
had low rooms at the sides, with open fronts, while on a plinth rested
coffins of different styles; the bodies within were awaiting burial.
Flowers were scattered here and there, and I believe fruit, food, and
offerings of various kinds also.
We next visited the place of execution, which was ghastly with its
associations, and the executioner swung the large instrument around, as
the guide explained the process of decapitating heads. But fortunately
for our nerves the place then contained only long rows of jars from a
pottery near by.
The Nambo Prison proved to be a wooden affair, gates and all, but the
poor unkept, unwashed victims who glared at us through the bars looked
too sickly and emaciated to offer any resistance, even had they a mind
to escape.
[Illustration: _Temple of the Five Genii at Canton_]
By far the most interesting place we visited was the Temple of the Five
Hundred Genii, with large brass gods seated on opposite sides of a long
hall,--the Temple of the Five Genii, and the ancestral temple of a
certain royal family of China. We first entered a large enclosure, then
a goodly-sized audience room, and next the temple proper. The three
walls of this room (as I remember them) were fitted up like an immense
cabinet, with rows of drawers, each supposed to contain some document
relating to that particular ancestor. There was one upright vacant space
which the guide said would be filled when that branch of the family
died.
We were here without a "Murray," as in Java and Siam, so we graciously
accepted such information as our most intelligent guide could give us,
who, by the way, was the original guide of Canton, two sons now
following in his footsteps, for the father in his later years rarely
accompanies parties. He is a gentleman, affable, well dressed in Chinese
brocade, and less unresponsive than are most Chinese; it was indeed a
pleasure to be "conducted" by him.
The Hall of Examination is open to the public only once in three years,
when students of high-school grade are examined for entrance to a
university course, eighty-seven of the applicants being chosen. The hall
has, on three sides, little box-like slates about six by eight feet,
furnished with only a plank on which the student must sit and sleep. He
is shut in there for three days, food being given him on entering for
the entire time. This torture is repeated three times, so that nine days
of purgatory have to be endured before the goal is reached.
The aristocracy of Canton is not one of wealth, but of intellectual
honors; many of the Chinamen who are seen wearing horn-rimmed spectacles
are either of a literary turn of mind or are attempting to pass as such.
Seen from the city wall or any very high point, Canton seems a city of
roofs, with scarcely an opening and not a vestige of green. The narrow
streets are many of them covered with awnings. It is a city of great
color, the brilliant signs, the covered palanquin chairs, the costumes
of the wealthy Chinese, all contributing to the riotous effect. It is a
city of very wide contrasts, for rich and poor jostle each other on the
streets and their homes are often side by side.
Canton is, after all, even with the noise, smells, and dirt included, a
fascinating city, and while one would not care to remain long in it, one
should never omit it.
Shameen, the island of concession, where are located two hotels,
consulates, churches, some shops, and the homes of all the foreign
residents, is a most pleasing place. Long avenues of trees are seen on
every side, the grounds of many of the homes sloping to the river,
which of itself adds to the beauty; the water is spanned by two iron
bridges which are locked every night; everywhere a general air of
refinement prevails. This very Shameen furnishes the greatest contrast
of all to hoary, venerable old Canton.
[Illustration: _The San Paulo Façade_]
It is claimed that Canton's origin dates from three hundred years before
the Christian era. The city was then encircled by a kind of stockade
made of bamboo and river mud, and it resembled a camp in most of its
details. A thousand years and Canton is alluded to as a commercial city,
with a special commissioner appointed by the Government to superintend
foreign trade. At an early date the great pass was constructed through
the Mei-hung range of mountains, and this proves to be one of the
principal trade-routes in use at the present time. Another thousand
years and we have the city of to-day, with its peculiar conditions, its
fascinations. Surely its age commands our respect. Its people, seemingly
impassive, are a subject for study, as are all the Chinese. Will the
Western mind ever be able to understand this? I have a theory that
behind the impassiveness there is a certain kind of responsiveness if it
can be reached, but thus far I have only been able to test it upon house
servants in California and those who have served us at different points
in our trip. I have met persons who share my belief, their opinion
being based on an acquaintance with the educated class.
* * * * *
MACAO, _March 28th_: We again took the steamer _Kian Tang_ for an
eighty-mile run to Macao. The scene is quite as varied and pleasing as
the passage from Hong-Kong to Canton. There were numerous islands, and,
on the mainland, villages were seen with occasional forts which told the
story of past invasions. Rice fields and great groves of mulberry trees
indicated some of the chief industries of China. Macao is situated on
the western shores of the estuary of the great Pearl River, sometimes
called Canton River. It was founded early in the sixteenth century by
the Portuguese, who were the first nation to invade the Eastern seas in
the interest of commerce, having aided the Chinese during the invasion
of pirates. As a reward, in the year 1557, the rocky peninsula was given
to them, the Portuguese having previously made use of it as a
trading-station and a naval depot.
[Illustration: _The bund at Macao, called Praia Grande_]
Macao is beautifully located high above the sea, and the approach is
fine; the first impression is of a Mediterranean port, but on landing,
the style of the buildings and the arrangement of the streets reminded
me of Spain, while the blended coloring on the parapet and walls (which
only time can give) was like Ponta Delgada of the Azores. Our hotel
stood on an eminence overlooking the sea, indeed so near the sea that
the moan and swish of the waves were always with us. The view from my
balcony brought to mind the outlook from the old monastery at Amalfi,
Italy. The whole atmosphere of the place was peaceful, and this was its
chief attraction. We were there over Sunday, and the impression was
deepened. Our arrival being early in the morning, we at once commenced
our tour of observation, our guide seeming quite intelligent. We knew
that the population of Macao was about eighty thousand, and, with the
exception of a few Portuguese officials, entirely Chinese, so we were
prepared for Chinese scenes, and it seemed quite consistent that we
should first visit a large opium factory, this drug being one of the
large exports of Macao. Here was explained the entire process of
manufacture, from the poppy leaf to the final shipment; and for a
further object lesson, we were taken into a room arranged for smoking
opium, where sat three richly dressed Chinamen, half reclining; two had
already passed into the temporary land of bliss and the third had the
far-away look in his eyes that betokened semi-unconsciousness.
The fourteenth-century façade of San Paulo greatly interested us aside
from its architectural merit; it stands to-day, as it has stood for
generations, the sole remnant of a fine cathedral which perished in an
earthquake. It is like a sentinel pointing the way to a better life. The
modern Catholic cathedral had no distinctive features. The English
church was unpretentious, but the Protestant cemetery adjoining contains
tablets sacred to the memory of many military and naval officers and
also of missionaries and their families; I remember especially the stone
erected to a Rev. Mr. Morrison, one of the early missionaries to China.
Macao's chief claim to renown is its association with Camoëns, the great
Portuguese poet of the sixteenth century, whose epic poem, "The
Lusiads," has been translated into most known languages. This poem was
written during his ten years' residence in Macao, and the garden,
grotto, and bust of Camoëns are all a memorial tribute from a fellow
countryman, Lorenco Marques. The garden and grotto were interesting, and
the bronze bust which rests on a block whereon is engraved a poem to
Macao by an English scholar, Sir John Bowring, is fine in design and
execution. It is interesting to note that through "The Lusiads" Camoëns
was permitted to return to Portugal to end his days, he having been
banished twice because his views were too outspoken. He died at Lisbon
in 1580.
The shops in Macao were of no special interest, and the street scenes
lacked life and color. A long drive followed luncheon, first to the
wonderful Bund, here called Praia Granda, which is semi-circular like
the harbor, and the street fronting the water is lined with homes or
business houses. Not one discordant note is here found. The drive is
protected on the water side by a high stone coping, and it was being
extended far beyond the original curve on the right-hand side, while at
the left it leads out into a prolonged drive, first on the heights where
are located residences and a club, then on to the country, until we
reach the dividing line between a Portuguese possession and China. This
is marked by an imposing arch. On the outskirts we visited several
factories, one for weaving matting, another for the manufacture of every
form of fire-works (a regular Fourth of July supply), and that the
realism should not be missing, some small boys on the corner exploded a
bunch of fire-crackers.
There were other factories, but the most interesting was one devoted to
the manufacture of silk thread from cocoons. It was very large, and only
women and girls were there employed, and the deft way in which they
caught the silk end from the cocoon (the latter is first placed in
boiling water) and wound it on reels quite won our admiration. We were
then taken to rooms where large twists of silk were placed ready for
shipment to England, a package not over two feet square representing an
investment of many thousands of dollars. The long drive to the hotel
ended an eventful day; the evening was to furnish further excitement in
a visit to some fan-tan parlors for which Macao is noted; indeed, it is
the Monte Carlo of the Far East, and I fear this feature attracts more
tourists than the beauty of the location. Certain it is that the
steamers from Hong-Kong supply a large contingent that comes hither
daily, since both fan-tan and lotteries are prohibited in Hong-Kong. All
the parlors are under Chinese management and are extensively patronized.
Some are said to be very luxurious in their appointments, being, of
course, for the wealthy patrons, who do not, however, sit on the floor
where the gambling is going on, but in a little room arranged with
galleries all around. Their servants sit below and receive from them an
indication as to certain numbers which may win or lose as the wheel of
fortune turns. There are retiring-rooms for the opium smokers and
separate places for serving refreshments. Such a condition represents
the aristocratic status of the game. The reverse aspect is seen in the
miserable "joints," which are too dreadful even to contemplate. Here is
where Macao derives the revenue to carry on its fine improvements, and,
as in Bangkok, there is no intimation of a desire to reform the evil.
The Chinese have also invaded Burma, and intermarriage with the Burmese
maidens is becoming general. Java is not exempt from their presence; in
Siam they are very numerous; in Singapore they permeate everywhere; and
in Macao they are possessors of the field. Truly their colonizing power
is tremendous, and, unlike the British, they commence downward and work
upward, the coolie ever being the advance guard.
On Sunday morning there was no service at the English church, and so two
of our party, by invitation of the missionary, Rev. Mr. Todd, attended a
Chinese service held in rooms which were far from adequate for their
needs. A Sunday-school of about two hundred children was just leaving as
we entered, and their interested faces made me hopeful that this early
influence might save them from the fan-tan attraction. The service was
in Chinese, but the reverend gentleman, not being fluent in the Chinese
language, first gave a paragraph in English, and this was translated by
his wife into Chinese, which made it more interesting and assuredly more
understandable to us. The audience paid the closest attention, and to my
surprise their faces revealed an animated response. The women were
dressed in the long black coats and loose trousers seen everywhere, but
their hair ornaments were of gold, set with jewels, and their earrings
jade or large pearls of great value. At the close of the service a man
arose and evidently made a most impassioned appeal, judging by the
intonation of his voice and the spontaneous applause he received. At the
close Mr. Todd told us that it was an appeal for money with which to
secure a better place of meeting, and that the Chinese women in front
had already given two hundred dollars toward the movement.
On Monday morning the steamer _Suitai_ carried us safely back to
Hong-Kong. The harbor looked more attractive than ever, and we were glad
to be again under English rule. On entering the hotel, an incident
occurred that lent coloring to my "theory." In order to explain, I must
go backward. On my first arrival at the hotel I had placed some
photographs on my chiffonier, and among them was the one of little
Katharine in the dog-cart with Omg, our American China boy, standing by
her. The following morning on entering my room, I saw both of the men
who were in charge of the cleaning gazing intently at the picture;
turning around, one of them asked, "You know China boy?" I assented, and
then told him something of the Chinamen who were employed in California.
This seemed to please them both immensely. On my return from Canton and
Macao, I walked down a long hall to my room and encountered several of
the so-termed "boys," every one of whom smiled and greeted me. I was
puzzled for a moment,--they had formerly seemed so impassive,--and then
I remembered the morning's incident and inferred that all had seen the
picture and had been told that I "knew China boy."
Manila was in our original itinerary, and on our first arrival in
Hong-Kong we were given our choice of a trip there or of the one we had
enjoyed at Canton and Macao, as the visit to Manila would have afforded
us but one day in Canton without even a glimpse of Macao. We thought we
had chosen wisely, but that evening, when we heard the enthusiastic
report of several who had just returned from Manila, I regretted that we
could not have done both, which would be my advice to all future
tourists.
We had three more days in Hong-Kong. There were jinrikisha rides,
shopping, and attendance at a Chinese theatre where much noise, vigorous
action, and very little dramatic talent were in evidence. It was,
however, interesting to watch the people, and to note their enthusiasm,
with no impassiveness now, as well as the peculiar mixture of costumes.
The business streets were full of life and action, and the shops
contained a very tempting array of articles. One afternoon I took a
jinrikisha ride on the Bund, past the great warehouses, or godowns as
they are called, filled with goods or food stuffs for shipment to every
port in China. Hong-Kong also aims to be a centre of supply for the
shipping of the world that comes to her door, and her dockyards and
shops are said to be equal to the demand. Somewhere I have seen this
statement, "that if Hong-Kong could be a port of origin instead of a
port of call, her commercial importance would equal that of London." The
means of transportation are varied, including electric cars, carriages,
jinrikishas, and sedan chairs. These may sometimes be seen following
each other in succession. The streets show the cosmopolitan side of the
city's life, as denizens of almost every clime assemble there, in the
interest of business or of pleasure.
The militia gives a dash of color to the scene,--the officers with their
uniforms, and the ever-present Tommy Atkins in his khaki suit,--besides
the wealthy Chinese in robes of brocade, the first of the kind we had
seen, and the coolie in short jacket and blue knee trousers, the color
being a badge of servitude. The English social life of the city is also
said to be very agreeable to residents, or to those who remain long
enough to participate in it, and I can now understand the enthusiasm of
friends who once resided there. When we left Hong-Kong, we felt that we
could have lingered much longer and been happy.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _The bund at Shanghai_]
SHANGHAI: Our approach to Shanghai was through the Wusung River, as all
large steamers are obliged to anchor at the bar. A launch was taken for
a ride of sixteen miles. The river banks were picturesque, and little
villages were succeeded by a vast amount of shipping, while factories
and warehouses from an artistic standpoint spoiled a large space of the
water front, the redeeming feature further on being a Public Garden, the
Consulates, and a collection of fine business houses.
We arrived at Shanghai on the morning of April 6th, and at once
proceeded to the Hotel Astor; then we left almost immediately for a
general drive, as we were to remain only for the day. We first visited
the native quarter, where the streets were narrow; but, in comparison
with Canton, they seemed much less crowded. We saw the exterior of some
temples and an interesting tea-house and bazar which were similar in
arrangement to those in Canton, and contained about the same articles.
The native town is very tame in comparison with Canton. Before luncheon
we visited two large silk houses, where we examined a remarkable display
of all kinds of silks and embroideries. After luncheon we proceeded to
take what is called the "Bubbling Well Drive," first exploring two
interesting tea-houses, one called the "Mandarin Teahouse" being very
elegant in all of its appointments. It had a garden arranged in
conventional Chinese style, with a rockery, miniature lake, and dwarf
trees. On the ride to Bubbling Well Road, we saw many beautiful homes of
modern European style, Shanghai being considered a very desirable
residence for foreigners. After visiting other points of interest, in
the late afternoon we returned to our steamer, having had time only for
a bird's-eye view of Shanghai and a brief outline of its places of
interest.
Shanghai is situated on the left bank of a stream called the Hiangpo, a
tributary of the Yangtse River. Formerly there were an English
settlement and an American settlement, the latter with no legal claims.
These are now merged into the foreign settlement. There is also a French
colony, with its numerous concessions.
The history of the city may be divided into two sections, the
pre-foreign period and the foreign period. In both there has been a
continuous increase of prosperity and importance, due to furnishing
unusual facilities for fostering trade. In the early years Shanghai was
subject to frequent raids and disturbances, and in 1543 there was a
general devastation. Foreign residence was sanctioned only as a result
of the first Chinese war. The signing of the treaty of Nanking threw
open Shanghai and four other ports to foreign trade, the latter being
Swatow, Amoy, Foochow, and Ningpoo, but these have never acquired the
importance of Shanghai, which has the advantage of being at the mouth of
the Yangtse River.
In 1849 a concession was granted to the French, but as late as 1850
there were only one hundred and fifty-seven foreign residents, and
twenty-five foreign firms doing business. Shanghai is distinctively a
commercial city, with a flat location, no background, and an artificial
foreground of solid rows of business buildings. The approach to the city
reveals a succession of mills, docks, wharves, engineering works, and
buildings of every description, except those of artistic and pleasing
appearance. The principal streets, the Bund and the Nanking Road, run at
right angles to each other, and the chief thoroughfares run parallel to
these two. The Bund is broad, fronting the water, and is a popular
thoroughfare. The Nanking Road deserves special mention. It begins as a
narrow passage-way with foreign business houses on each side; it then
widens, and has Chinese shops, with, later on, the recreation ground,
Town Hall, and Library. Farther on it is known as Bubbling Well Road.
Shanghai, as a residence for the European, is said to be the finest city
in the East as regards modern conveniences, finer than any place east of
Suez, but it is a city of contrasts. No centre can offer a wider choice
for enjoyment,--the public recreation ground covering eight thousand
acres. Within this enclosure is the race course, where cricket,
football, hockey, tennis, golf, polo, and baseball are played; and
numberless pavilions, dressing-rooms, and a swimming-bath are included
in the adjacent building--all free to the public. There are in addition
many clubs of a private nature, some social and others musical, and many
of them owning fine buildings. Matters of education are not neglected,
and the public schools even include kindergartens. There are likewise
private schools, but the provisions for educating Chinese children are
very inadequate, and mostly of the mission order. The Roman Catholic
missions have excellent schools and well-equipped buildings. There is a
fine American College, St. John's, that grants degrees. Some
institutions are managed by the Chinese, the principal one being the
Imperial Polytechnic College, which is housed in a fine block of
buildings. There are also various organizations of an intellectual
order, such as the Royal Asiatic Society, which is affiliated with a
society of the same name in England; and an American Asiatic Society to
further interests in the Far East. Architects, engineers, and
missionaries likewise have their guilds.
[Illustration: _Mogi Road at Nagasaki_]
The religious life of the settlement is very diversified, and includes
Jews, Parsees, Mohammedans, Greek and Roman Catholics, and members of
the Anglican Church; the various forms of the Protestant Church are
represented, and most of the missions have their headquarters here.
We returned to our steamer in the evening, and sailed on for Kobe, our
point of departure, but we had "stop-over privileges at Nagasaki." Our
intervening day was passed mostly on deck, the weather being fine.
* * * * *
NAGASAKI, _April 8th_: We arrived at Nagasaki on the morning of April
8th in a pouring rain which rather dampened our ardor, inasmuch as we
had a full day's programme arranged. We went ashore, however, and
proceeded to the Cliff House for a short time, but as the storm
increased we returned to the steamer somewhat crestfallen. The _Korea_
was taking on coal when we left, but on our return there was an ominous
silence, and we learned that the workers, thoroughly drenched, had
struck and that the vessel would be compelled to remain another day.
Hope revived amongst us, and on the following morning the sun was
shining brightly. This was the only time I have known a strike to be of
benefit.
The process of taking on coal was very peculiar. Ladders were placed up
the sides of the steamer, relays of men and women were arranged in nine
rows, counting from the bottom; coal was placed in baskets and passed up
in fire-bucket fashion with the utmost quickness and dexterity. It
continued incessantly until the work was completed. There were more
women than men working, and they all wore pointed white handkerchiefs
over their heads.
A steam launch conveyed us to Nagasaki, and once there we took a
jinrikisha for a memorable mountain ride of five miles, along a road
called the Mogi. We ascended gradually from the sea-level, and soon the
loveliest view was spread before us. On our right, looking downward,
were the sea and the city rising in terraces from the water, the
hillsides covered with foliage, all sparkling in the morning light; on
our left, foothills, and beyond these the mountains. We stopped at a
Japanese tea-house to rest the jinrikisha men, and soon after, we came
to a point in the landscape said to be represented in the opera of
"Madame Butterfly." Reaching the Mogi, we found another tea-house, and
we all alighted and roamed around the point, where we had a magnificent,
far-reaching panorama. The descent was quite as enjoyable, and
altogether we voted the ride an entire success.
We next visited some bazars. The temples were omitted, but I later
visited them on my return trip to North China. Then we returned to the
steamer for a late luncheon, and the bevy of animated coal-heavers were
still at work. The day following was our last on the steamer, and our
way lay through one portion of the Inland Sea, meaning a narrow
waterway, the shores of which were visible on both sides.
[Illustration: _The main street in Kobe_]
* * * * *
KOBE: We arrived at Kobe on the evening of April 10th, and fell at once
into the grasp of the custom-house authorities, who proved, however,
very lenient. Our valued Director here left us to go on to Yokohama and
was succeeded by a Japanese guide, Mr. Macheeda, who took charge of four
of the party, small groups and native guides being the policy in
Japan.[6] Our abiding-place in Kobe was the Oriental Hotel.
The following morning we went out early in jinrikishas for a general
ride through Kobe, going first to the distant waterfall in the
mountains, which really proved a fine spectacle. Next we visited
temples, then some shops or bazars, and a Satsuma studio, where the
whole art process was explained to us by a most courteous Japanese, who
spoke English perfectly. All the appointments of the studio were truly
Japanese, including the sliding windows and doors, the hardwood floor
and the matting walls. Here tea and little cakes were served to us.
We then went to another studio with a different interior. This was
larger and more pretentious. Again the process was explained to us in
the same courteous way, and we realized that we were now in a land where
good manners prevailed. A heavy rain unfortunately set in, and we were
compelled to return to the hotel.
* * * * *
ONOMICHI: The following day we took the train for Onomichi, arriving at
our destination in the evening. Here we were to have a new experience,
the hotel being strictly Japanese, with not a word of English spoken.
First, we were asked to remove our shoes and put on slippers, the
alternative being cotton coverings for our own shoes. I preferred the
latter. The house was quite large, consisting of two stories. The first
floor was, however, occupied by the family. The second floor was
entirely devoted to our party, whose suite included several rooms with
movable screens so arranged that one large room could be converted into
two. There were sliding windows, paper taking the place of glass.
[Illustration: _The fort and castle at Osaka_]
Our beds were the futons, composed of dark red comforters, one below and
one above us, with another hard roll for the head. There were no chairs
in the sleeping-rooms, but washstands had been improvised, there being
dressing-rooms outside of some of the rooms. Concession was made us in
the improvised dining-room, a table and chairs being reserved for our
special use. On one side of this room there was a slightly raised floor,
and here were pretty little side tables and bronze ornaments. Our guide
had very considerately brought some canned goods with him and also some
bread; the family, however, furnished us with eggs and tea. The mother
and two daughters were bright and sunny, as were the little Japanese
maids who attended to the menial work. It was altogether a novel
experience. The next morning, however, the rain was coming down in
torrents, and there was no possibility of our taking a steamer for a
trip of several hours to the sacred island of Miyajima, so we
reluctantly boarded the morning train for Osaka, arriving there late in
the afternoon.
* * * * *
OSAKA, _April 13th_: The next morning dawned brightly, and we left in
jinrikishas for a general tour, first visiting the fort where stands a
noted castle, very picturesque in appearance. We then visited the
Exposition of Industrial Arts, which did not seem unlike an exposition
at home in its general arrangements. The goods displayed, however, were
very different. Then we had a ride along Cherry Blossom Avenue, the
trees being laden with the pale pink flower. We visited bazars and noted
the general aspect of the place, canals being a dominant characteristic
of the landscape. We saw a particularly fine temple among many others.
Osaka is a commercial city of great wealth and is more celebrated from a
business point of view than from its artistic aspect.
After luncheon we went to Yaba Meczan's Satsuma studio. This artist is
celebrated, having taken prizes at both the Chicago and St. Louis
Expositions, and his work surpassed any I had ever seen. The decoration
on some of the vases was so fine that it required a glass to bring out
the full and minute detail. In designing and decorating these vases the
work has to be done with a magnifying glass, which is a very severe
strain on the eyes. We then proceeded up what is called Theatre Street,
so named because of the situation of several playhouses in the midst of
prominent shops. Banners and signs were displayed in every available
space, all of different colors, and the general effect was very unusual
as they floated in the breeze. Later in the afternoon we took a train
for Kyoto.
* * * * *
KYOTO, _April 15th_: The following morning another heavy rain greeted
us. We were now in the Japanese city which retains more of the old life
and customs than any other, not having been spoiled as yet by modern
innovations. The bad weather abating in the afternoon, we went to the
temple Nishi Otani. This is situated on quite an eminence. We crossed a
stone bridge spanning a lotus pond, and walked up an inclined way paved
with granite, a flight of steps leading to the handsome main gate which
faces a strikingly carved two-storied structure. We took our places on
the steps and awaited the arrival of the procession of Buddhist priests,
this being the chief object of our visit. They came in large numbers,
walking two by two, and arrayed in the most gorgeous brocades, no two
being of the same pattern. Around the waist they wore wide sashes of
equal richness and beauty, and the effect was truly very striking, as
they walked up the hill. This was one of the features of the rite of
commemoration, the ceremonies continuing through the week. We then
visited some shops, of which there are a large number, all of them very
interesting.
[Illustration: _The rapids near Kyoto_]
[Illustration: _Bamboo Avenue in Kyoto_]
Shintoism is the State religion, and the following morning we visited
one of the temples, named Kitano Tenjin. Entering through the great
stone torii or gateway, we found stone lanterns, together with stone and
bronze bulls presented by devotees. Another torii and a couple of
two-storied gates were passed through, the last being called the Gate of
the Three Luminaries, or the Sun, Moon, and Stars. This was the entrance
to one side of the square, the other three sides being formed of
colonnades. It might be well to explain that a torii consists of two
upright columns several feet apart. At the top is a cross-bar extending
out about one foot on each side and two feet lower than the top of the
columns.
There were many other details noted by us, and it was perhaps the most
effective Shinto temple that we saw. We then visited Kinkakuji, more
commonly called the "Golden Pavilion." This is Buddhist in character,
and there is a monastery surrounded by a fine garden in which is another
pavilion. The garden was artistic, in the middle of which is a lake with
pine-clad shores and pine-clad islets; this indeed seemed unusual so
near a large city. The lake is usually filled with a flowering plant
called junsai and is stocked with carp, which always appear on the
approach of visitors, expecting to be fed.
All the ancient buildings have disappeared except the Pavilion, which
was restored in 1906. It stands on the water's edge and is
three-storied. Each floor is furnished with statuettes of different
saints and has mural decorations by Kano Masanobu. There are very
unusual features connected with this temple. The so-called apartments
are in two sets,--one attached to the main building with pictorial
sliding screens symbolic of Chinese sages and other subjects by Kano.
There are also drawings of birds and trees, and ornaments done by
celebrated artists. Folding screens are in common use. One artistic
group represents three religious teachers, Confucius, Buddha, and Lao
Tze. After showing these art treasures to us the priests served tea,
while we sat around in true Japanese style.
[Illustration: _The Golden Pavilion_]
After luncheon we went to still another very interesting Buddhist
temple, Kiyomizu-dera. Kyoto abounds in fine temples. We left our
jinrikishas at the foot of the hill and walked up a long, high lane
called Teapot Street because in all the little shops bordering the
thoroughfare china and teapots are displayed, forming the favorite
purchases of the country people who frequent this temple. The building
is situated in a striking position and commands a view of the entire
city. The two-storied gateway at the top of the steps was restored in
1897. Outside this gate are two pagodas, each three-storied, and the
large green bell, dating from 1624. We then passed up through a
colonnade to the main temple, whose rough, hewn columns and bare floor
are most unusual. The whole style is original and unique. The great
festival day here is on the 17th of August, when a classic concert is
given, the musicians being dressed in various unique costumes. They are
seated opposite each other in the wings like the two sides of a choir. A
dancing stage extends the whole length of its front, and this opens
into a hall full of _ex-voto_ pictures, some of which possess great
artistic merit. Directly behind this main temple are several other
temples and an eleven-storied pagoda which it is impossible to describe
here adequately.
On our homeward way we visited the Art Museum. This and the museum at
Nara contain the very best collections of early Japanese statuary. The
exhibits have been taken or borrowed from time to time from various
Buddhist temples in Kyoto and the surrounding provinces. Some date from
the seventh and eighth centuries, when Buddhist carving was at the
height of its excellence. There are also screens, ancient manuscripts,
swords, armor, musical instruments, coins, imperial robes, and
miscellaneous articles.
To vary the programme a little, we made an excursion on the following
day to Lake Biwa, some miles distant. This is a very celebrated body of
water in Japan. We had our choice between returning to Kyoto by the more
exciting way of the canal with its long tunnels or going to Otsu. We
chose the latter.
[Illustration: _The largest pine tree in the world at Lake Biwa_]
Near Otsu there is the largest pine tree in the world, and it has been
trained in the peculiar conventional manner employed by the Japanese.
Here we had a picnic luncheon and then drove some distance to the
heights of Otsu, where one hundred and thirty monasteries and temples
are said to be grouped. We walked up the incline, passing many temples
and seeing a very ancient bronze bell of great historic interest.
Descending, we went through the village of Otsu, which has quite a
reputation, since it was the scene of what might have been a very
serious accident to the present Emperor of Russia, then czarevitch. He
was accompanied by Prince George of Greece, now King George, when
savagely attacked by an insane man. Certain disaster would have followed
had it not been for the presence of mind of the Prince.
We reached Kyoto at 5 P.M., having had a long, though extremely
delightful day. Excursions being in order, we went the next day to
"shoot the rapids ending at Arashi-yama." We had various means of
transportation during the day, jinrikishas, trains, and a short railway
trip which was highly picturesque, the line running along just above the
dashing river. At Hozu we took the boat for the descent of the rapids
down to the landing-place of Arashi-yama, and this was a most exciting
experience, the passage taking about an hour and a half. Great care had
to be observed by the pilots of the boats, as there were several parties
going down and many others returning. The shores of the river were very
interesting, being high wooded hills which were abloom. Arashi-yama is
famous for its cherry blossoms. We had a picnic luncheon here and
returned to Kyoto by train.
On Easter Sunday I attended a union service, but afterwards learned that
there was a special commemoration at St. Mary's, and that the Episcopal
Bishop Partridge was at the hotel. There seemed to be a great deal of
friendly feeling between the different religious denominations in Kyoto;
a little booklet given us at the union service containing information
with regard to all the churches, including the Episcopal. Easter
afternoon we attended a remarkable Buddhist ceremony in the Chroin
Temple on a high hill. At least seventy-five priests were in attendance,
all arrayed in their gorgeous brocaded robes and sitting in parallel
lines opposite each other. It seemed to be an intoned service. We were
separated from the officiants by an anteroom with a high railing, but we
could observe all that was going on. This was a part of the ceremonial
of the week to which I referred in connection with the Buddhist
procession. After watching for a while, we walked about and saw several
adjacent temples, marked by their spaciousness.
A visit to the Nijo Castle, by permit, was of great interest. It dates
from 1601, and was built by Ieyasu of Nikko memory for his use when
visiting Kyoto. It has even in modern times considerable historical
interest, as it was here, on April 6, 1868, that the Emperor, on
obtaining his ancestral rights by the revolution then in progress, met
the Council of State and swore to grant a deliberative assembly and to
decide all measures by public opinion. For a long period Nijo Castle was
used by the prefecture and was greatly damaged. Since 1883, it has been
one of the Imperial Summer palaces. The apartments of the castle are
very beautiful; the sliding screens between the rooms and the wooden
doors separating the different sets of apartments are all adorned with
paintings of flowers, birds, and the like, done by artists of the Kano
School. There is beautiful metal work, and the reception hall is
decorated with representations of street life in Kyoto and other cities.
The ceiling is lacquered.
We also procured a permit to visit the Imperial Palace, which is placed
in a large garden like a park. This was spacious, but not so artistic as
Nijo; there were many different buildings. We visited several, one known
as the Temple of 33,333 Buddhas, and after gazing at the long array of
walls and corridors with their ornaments, we accepted the estimate as
accurate. One afternoon the great Shinto procession of the year was in
progress. We took jinrikishas for quite a long ride, and then arrived at
a small suburb of Kyoto, where we had places engaged on the upper
gallery of a house. There were great crowds of people, and we waited a
long time before the arrival of the first shrine. There were five in
all. These shrines were large and ornamental, with a great deal of gilt
about them, and they were placed on poles borne upon the shoulders of
men. Four other small shrines followed, and before the pageant was over,
the afternoon was nearly consumed. This procession was on its way to the
great Temple of Inari, several miles distant.
One morning we devoted to visiting two cloisonné studios and some curio
shops. The first studio, Nakamura's, was very artistically arranged; one
large room encircled a miniature garden laid out in true Japanese style
with dwarf trees, rockeries, and a tiny little lake. We saw the whole
process of manufacture and it was also explained to us.[7] The specimens
were very rare and beautiful. Tea and little cakes were served and great
courtesy extended to us. The second studio was similar to this, but a
little larger, and again we saw the garden, and again tea was served.
Several interesting curio shops were visited, and we then went to the
large establishment of Yamanaka, who had fine collections at the Chicago
and St. Louis Expositions. We then went over some silk stores, the
manufacture of silk being the chief industry; one may purchase all kinds
of embroidered goods.
[Illustration: _Kasuga Temple_]
The annual Cherry Blossom Dance--repeated at intervals for one
week--occurred at this time. It is preceded by a ceremonial tea. We went
at five in the afternoon and were seated around the sides of a large
room. Special places were arranged for the pouring of tea, and presently
a very pretty Japanese girl appeared and proceeded to heat the water,
measure out the tea, put it in the teapot, with many other movements,
pouring a little water on it, all in the most deliberate manner, and
finally the preliminaries were over, and three pretty little maidens
passed the tea around. Another girl in a bright kimono appeared and went
through the process again. This was repeated three or four times. We
then adjourned to a very large room, like a small theatre, with a
gallery at the back, in which we sat. Opposite us was a wide stage, and
on either side was arranged a platform about two feet wide, extending
the whole length of the room. Here sat the musicians dressed as geisha
girls, and the dancers, called Maiko, were also clad in the same manner,
with long artistic kimonos and flowers in their hair. The dancers
entered and proceeded to the stage; then commenced a slow and measured
tread, every movement being graceful. Cherry blossoms were everywhere,
even forming the decorations on the wall. Different figures were
repeated, but all in that deliberate manner, very little like dancing
but more like a devotional exercise. We sat there for about an hour, but
cannot truthfully say that we enjoyed the music, as it was somewhat
discordant.
Our last day in Kyoto was a very full one. We visited shops in the
morning, and in the afternoon went quite a distance to see a historical
procession. We were seated in about the same manner as previously
described. Those who took part in the procession were geisha girls and
novitiates who were to be educated as future geisha girls, their parents
giving them over to the instructors at an early age. This was a very
interesting pageant. First only one or two would appear in a historical
costume of very rich brocade, the hair most elaborately dressed with the
ornaments peculiar to that particular period. Next two little girls
would appear, also dressed in historical costumes. Then, after a
considerable pause, there followed another geisha girl; and thus the
procession continued for over an hour. We did not realize until the day
following that most of the persons who took part were of questionable
morals.
In the evening we attended a Japanese theatre. The play was a historical
tragedy called "The Forty-seven Ronans." The stage was well arranged
and the action very good; it was far more interesting than the Chinese
theatre previously described.
During the week a large Collver party of eighteen arrived at the hotel;
they were later to go to North China and by the Trans-Siberian route to
Russia. Their Director gave a Japanese dinner in which we were included,
Mr. Burton Holmes and his friend being the only other guests present.
The dining-room was in the Japanese portion of the hotel, arranged with
rugs and draperies covering the hardwood floors in quite an artistic
manner, and at the sides were placed cushions on which we were supposed
to sit or kneel. The formal exercises were mostly conducted by geisha
and Maiko girls, three officiating as musicians, several more dancing,
and others serving as attendants. Everything was done in the most
measured manner. First, boxes were placed before us containing four
articles, all dishes of peculiar concoctions. These were intended, we
imagined, for us to look at for a time until the musicians and dancers
appeared. The programme was opened with a musical number, which was
anything but musical; the dancers then took their positions and went
through the usual formal measures. There was more music, then another
dance. This was repeated three or four times. The attendant geisha
girls were seated at intervals in front of the guests.
At a certain signal the music and dancing ceased, and trays were brought
us on which were soup (we imagined the famous bird's-nest), a cup of
saké, two more peculiar dishes, and also chopsticks! By this time the
kneeling process had become rather painful, and I availed myself of the
cup of saké, feeling I needed some stimulant. This was the only
refreshment I tried, but some of the party had the courage to experiment
further. After some deliberation and a little more converse, we arose
from our repast and proceeded to the hotel dining-room, where a
substantial dinner was served us at nine o'clock. This was altogether
the most unique affair of the week and greatly enjoyed by all. The eight
days in Kyoto had flown and we would gladly have remained longer. The
atmosphere of the place was so truly of the past, the temples so very
interesting, and the quaint customs of the olden times so well retained,
that it gave a peculiar charm to the place.
* * * * *
NARA, _April 23d_: A day's excursion to Nara was planned, but a heavy
rain somewhat marred our enjoyment. Nara was once a place of much
importance, the capital of Japan during seven reigns, stretching from
709 to 784 A.D. Its chief attraction now is the great natural beauty of
the place, some fine temples, and a deer park. Kasuga is a noted Shinto
temple. The approach is through the celebrated grounds where were seen
many deer, apparently very tame. A fine avenue of cryptomerias added
much to the dignity of the approach. The temple stands at the end of a
long avenue of stone lanterns, some of which are lighted every night.
The main temple is painted red, with brass lanterns, and surrounded by
cryptomerias. A religious dance, which is held in a building near by, is
one of the many attractive features of this temple. The dress of the
dancers is peculiar, composed of a wide red divided skirt, a white
under-garment, and a long gauze mantle. The hair is worn in a thick
tress down the back, a chaplet of flowers is on the forehead, the face
very much powdered, and in the hands are carried either the branches of
a tree or some tiny bells which are swayed back and forth in a measured
manner. The orchestra consists of three priests.
There is a fine Buddhist temple, renovated in 1898. It is built on the
side of a hill; a flight of steps leads up to it and the whole front is
covered with metal lanterns which produce a weird effect. Not far
distant is a large temple which contains a bronze Buddha called
Dai-butsu. When we saw it, the temple was in a chaotic condition,
undergoing renovation. The height of the Buddha is fifty-three and
one-half feet; the face is sixteen feet long and nine and one-half feet
broad. It is in a sitting position, with right hand uplifted. Nara has a
fine museum, well equipped for the study of early Japanese religions.
* * * * *
YAMADA, _April 23d_: In the afternoon we left for Yamada, the city of
the celebrated Temple of Ise. On arriving, we took quite a drive up the
mountain side to Furuichi and to the Goni-Kwai Hotel, a large,
beautifully situated Japanese hostelry with a European department. This
consisted of eight rooms, furnished comfortably in European style, even
with grates, but we had the novelty of Japanese environment as we walked
down the corridors and passed little Japanese rooms with sliding screens
and open windows. In the morning, we walked up the hill and had a
magnificent view; we left early in jinrikishas for a long day's
programme. First we went through the town, the shops forming part of a
long street, with open fronts and interiors. We then crossed a bridge to
a suburb which contained the celebrated Temple of Ise. We proceeded up a
long avenue, containing torii No. 1, torii No. 2, and torii No. 3,
entering what is called the inner Temple of Ise, which, like all Shinto
places of worship, is very plain on the exterior. We were not
permitted to enter, but were obliged to look through an open enclosure.
Our Japanese guide knelt down, bowed, and clapped his hands three times,
which is the act of devotion of all Shintoites on their approaching any
temple. In the rear there was another temple which we saw only from the
outside; the guide told us that at this shrine Marquis Ito came to offer
thanks for the success of the Chinese-Japanese war in 1894, and that
Admiral Togo also came at the close of the Russian-Japanese war. It is
estimated that at least half a million pilgrims repair annually to the
Temple of Ise, but the educated class seldom visits the place,--perhaps
not more than once in a lifetime.
[Illustration: _The Temple of Ise (Yamada)_]
We then drove eight miles to Futami, a seaside resort with a pretty
Japanese tea-house fronting the water. Here is a peculiar formation of
rock called "The Husband and Wife Rocks," connected by a chain. The
bazar is quite interesting, and we had our luncheon at the tea-house,
served in Japanese style, which means that we would have had nothing but
tea if our thoughtful guide had not brought a basket with us. The return
trip of eight miles was over a little different route, more picturesque
even than the first. Arriving at Yamada, we went to the outer Temple of
Ise. Here, as in the inner temple, there is a large house for sacred
dances.
Many tea-houses in Yamada furnish music during the evening. We visited
a very artistic place, said to be five hundred years old, and there we
saw one of the sacred dances peculiar to that province.
* * * * *
NAGOYA, _April 25th_: We left in the morning for Nagoya, and were guests
at the Nagoya Hotel. This is a flourishing, commercial city, with one of
the longest and widest streets we had seen in Japan. The garrison
occupies the castle, whose approach is the same as in the olden
time--through gates and past moats. This castle was erected in 1610 by
twenty great feudal lords to serve as a residence for Ieyasu's son. Like
other Japanese castles, it is a wooden building, standing on immense
walls which are eighteen feet thick. The castle has been taken by the
Imperial household and is preserved as a monument of historical
interest. The two golden dolphins with silver eyes which can be seen
glittering all over the city from the top of the five-story donjon were
made in 1610 at the expense of the celebrated general, Kato Kiyomosa,
who also built the donjon, or keep.
[Illustration: _Nagoya Castle_]
The apartments of the castle are very beautiful. The sliding screens
between the rooms and the wooden doors separating the different suites
are all adorned with paintings of flowers and birds. Leaving these
apartments, we visited the historic donjon, a gloomy building of stone
on the exterior, but furnished with wooden staircases within. The fifth
story commands an extensive view of the town, the sea, and the vast
plain,--rice-fields and mountains stretching in the distance. The roofs
of the keep are of copper, and its massive gates are cased in iron.
Nagoya is noted for its manufacture of porcelain and cloisonné. There is
one celebrated Buddhist temple, Higashi Hongwanji, and the Museum. There
are also extensive parks and parade grounds. In the evening of our stay
there, the unexpected occurred. We had known for some time of the
approaching Imperial Cherry Blossom Garden Party at Tokio. A telegram
arrived, stating that our invitations awaited us in Yokohama; we were
most fortunate, since they were in great demand. A hurried consultation
followed, but as the remainder of the party expected to sail for San
Francisco on May 13th, they declined to change their programme, while I
accepted the invitation, having two weeks' more time in Japan during
June; I regretfully bade adieu to the party, and the following morning
proceeded to Yokohama.
* * * * *
YOKOHAMA, _April 26th_: The next two weeks I was to be thrown upon my
own responsibility. I arrived at Yokohama in the evening and
anticipated a departure the following morning for Tokio. A pouring
rain, however, caused an unexpected postponement. There were many
disappointed guests in the Tokio hotels which were crowded in view of
the great annual event. This is said to be very beautiful in all its
appointments, the profusion of cherry blossoms being an attraction, as
is the presence of the Emperor and Empress. The rain abating at noon,
the grounds of the Crown Prince's palace were opened and the persons who
were in Tokio availed themselves of the privilege of visiting them. A
fine collation was served. The Emperor and Empress, however, did not
appear, and the usual extremely formal ceremonies were dispensed with.
It is the custom to give the inmates of the hospitals in Tokio a rare
feast from what is left of the banquet. I had a busy day in Yokohama,
which I found an attractive modern city, with beautiful shops, pleasant
hotels, and a great crowd of visitors. I left early the following
morning, April 28th, for Nikko.
* * * * *
NIKKO, _April 28th_: The sky was overcast when we started, and before
noon there was a heavy rain which prevented any enjoyment of the really
fine landscape. The Japanese proverb in substance runs: "Do not use the
word 'magnificent' until you have seen Nikko." This had been ringing in
my ears all the way, and to be compelled to proceed through the long
street of the village in a closed jinrikisha was tantalizing. The Nikko
Hotel was to have been my destination, but I met friends on the train
and was persuaded to accompany them to the new Kanaya Hotel, situated
nearer the village on a height. My programme in Nikko could only include
three days; hence I decided that a study of the various temples, a
general view of the city, and an excursion to Lake Chuzenji must
suffice.
The following morning the sun was shining, and I departed early to visit
the temples. The way lay down to the river Daiya-gawa. From the bridge
in actual use and at a short distance I beheld the "Red Bridge,"
formerly lacquered and having brass ornaments, sacred to royal use only,
and held in veneration by the Japanese. A long avenue of cryptomerias
followed. This tree is like the redwood of California when used in the
interior of a building; indeed, after a long period of time, the
coloring is precisely the same. This I noticed in the Imperial palaces
at Kyoto.
I walked up the avenue with a feeling of awe, and it seemed as if the
whole atmosphere of Nikko was surcharged with an element of sanctity,
and that no one could gaze on the mountains and the groves of
cryptomerias without being somewhat better than before. At the end of
the avenue the perspective is wonderful, for one looks through a series
of great stone toriis, gray with age, and sees along the way objects
that are of interest, a five-story pagoda being the most striking. This
approach is to the great Temple of Ieyasu, the illustrious Shogun and
founder of the Tokugawa dynasty and, like the other great temple and
mausoleum of his grandson, Iemitzu (farther on), was erected in the
seventeenth century, at a time when the art of building shrines was at
its perfection, as was the work in lacquer and bronze, wood carving and
decorative painting. Every detail is perfect, and the great predominance
of red and gold lacquer with its setting of green produced a striking
effect, but without being in the least garish. Indeed, the keynote to
all the buildings and interiors we have seen in Japan, of any age
whatsoever, has been chasteness of design and harmony. If we sometimes
find a discordant note in modern Japanese art, I fear Western taste has
had some influence, if it be true that the producer ever seeks to please
the purchaser.
[Illustration: _The way to the Temple, Ieyasu_]
[Illustration: _Kokamon: Iemitzu Temple_]
With all this perfection on every side, it becomes even more difficult
to give any adequate description, so that an outline comprising only
general details will be suggested. A quotation explains my position
fully. Dr. Dresser once wrote: "Any words that I can use must fail to
convey any adequate idea of the consciousness of the work, the
loveliness of the compositions, the harmoniousness of the colors, and
the beauty of the surroundings here before me; and yet the adjectives
which I have tried to heap one upon another, in the hope of conveying to
the reader what I--an architect and ornamentist--feel when contemplating
these matchless shrines, must appear, I am afraid, altogether
unreasonable." The difficulty is further added to by the fact that there
are in all six groups of temples with numerous associated buildings and
gateways in the near vicinity, although Ieyasu and Iemitzu are the most
famous.
The approach to Ieyasu Temple is most unusual. Within the two courts,
each with toriis and stone steps, are many notable adjuncts to the
temples, the five-story pagoda, one hundred and four feet high, being a
marvel of rich lacquered walls. It has peculiar brass-trimmed roofs and
bells hanging from every angle. Three artistic buildings are used as
storehouses, where articles employed in worship, pictures, and many
treasures of Ieyasu are deposited. Near by is a finely carved gateway
leading to a beautiful carved water cistern which is cut out of one
solid piece of granite and sheltered by a roof supported on twelve
square pillars of stone, all erected in 1618. A beautifully decorated
building behind this is the depository for the complete collection of
the Buddhist scriptures, contained in a fine revolving octagonal
bookcase with red lacquered panels and gilt pillars. In the centre of
this court stands a fine bronze torii. A flight of steps gives access to
the second court. Just inside of this are two stone lions in the act of
leaping down; on the right stand a bell tower, a bronze candelabrum
presented by the King of Loochoo, and another bell presented by the King
of Korea; there is also a bronze candelabrum from Holland. This
diversity of gifts indicates the general interest at that time in this
shrine. All of these articles are of very unusual style of workmanship.
At the left extremity of this same platform stands the Temple of
Wakushi, dedicated to the patron saint of Ieyasu, for which reason its
Buddhist emblems have been left intact. The building is a blaze of gold
and harmonious colors. Stone steps lead up to the exquisitely beautiful
gate called Yomei-mon; it has a fence on each side. Passing through the
gateway, we entered the third court, in which the Buddhist priests used
to offer liturgies on the occasions of the two great annual festivals.
In this court are also two buildings, one containing a stage for the
performance of the sacred dance, and the other an altar for burning the
fragrant cedar while prayers were recited. Next we have the Karu-mon
or Chinese gate. It gives admittance to the main shrines. The folding
doors of the oratory are lavishly decorated with arabesques of peonies,
in gilt relief.
[Illustration: _A five-story pagoda_]
The chapel is a large matted room, forty-two feet long by twenty-seven
feet deep, with an antechamber at each end. The chapel and the
antechambers are all very profusely decorated with pictures on the
walls, with carved panels and painted ceilings. The Holy of Holies of
this temple is accessible to the public only by special permit. It is
composed of three chambers, and here Japanese Buddhist art is exhibited
in its perfection,--a blaze of gold and color, with its elaborate
paintings of court personages, its precious woods, inlaid and carved,
and its richly lacquered pillars and splendid metal work--the whole a
marvel of detail, all the more marvellous because it is in perfect
preservation. Now that it has been changed into a Shinto shrine and is
under the patronage of the Government, the Buddhas and attendant Buddhas
of the olden time are no longer to be seen.
An old mossy staircase and a time-worn pavement lead to Ieyasu's tomb,
before which stand two long tables. Here are placed the usual bronze
ornaments, consisting of a stork, an incense burner, and a vase of
bronze lotus flowers. The tomb, shaped like a small pagoda, has a
single bronze casting of a light color, produced, it is said, by a
mixture of gold. Leaving the mausoleum, I passed down through the courts
and gateways until I came to the avenue of cryptomerias, visiting a
number of temples on the way, and finally I reached Iemitzu's temple. A
massive stone staircase and a fine gateway are among the many details of
an attractive exterior that claim attention. The temple is much less
magnificent than Ieyasu's, but a more perfect representation of the
Buddhist art, inasmuch as here can be seen the interior as it was
originally. After the restoration in 1886, the interiors of all the
other temples were changed to meet the requirements of the Shinto faith,
that being the State religion. The tomb is reached by a flight of steps
running up the side of the wall. It is of the same general style as that
of Ieyasu. In the afternoon a walk back of the temple of Ieyasu revealed
more stone lanterns, shrines, and toriis.
At Nikko the homes are attractive, with their open space and their
verandas. The Park and Botanical Garden are also not without interest.
Sometimes a shrine could be seen, and with the inmates dressed in pretty
kimonos, it was truly a fascinating picture, unlike anything that had
elsewhere struck our fancy. The invariable smile, bow, and courtesy that
always greet you place a finishing and charming touch to the whole.
[Illustration: _The gate called Yomei-mon_]
The bazar or long street of shops was enticing, with so many souvenirs
to choose from. The thoroughfare itself presented a never-ending
panorama of carts, packhorses, natives, pilgrims, and tourists.
There were several tempting excursions of two or three miles each, the
most celebrated of which was to Lake Chuzenji, eight miles distant. This
required an early morning departure in a jinrikisha. The ride there was
through a region which affords a fine example of the Japanese method of
cultivating the soil. The little homes were attractive. Potatoes, rice,
and millet seemed to be the principal crops. Chuzenji Lake is a marvel
of beauty, with its many walks along the shore. Luncheon was served at
the hotel. It is estimated that ten thousand pilgrims come to the
village during July and August to make the ascent to the sacred
mountain, Nantaisan, two thousand feet above the sea-level. This is not
so very difficult, since at points there are stairways that give ready
access. Shrines and tea-houses are stationed all along the road, as the
Japanese never neglect creature comforts. Eight miles further on is
situated Yunoto village and the lake which bears the same name and is
celebrated for its hot springs. This place is said to be as attractive
as Lake Chuzenji. We left Nikko on an early morning train with a strong
desire some day to return and make a more protracted stay.
* * * * *
TOKIO, _April 30th_: Leaving Nikko, with an altitude of two thousand
feet higher than the sea, for Tokio, one hundred miles distant and at
sea-level, was a decided drop. The day was bright and the views from the
car window gave one an ever-varying panorama, consisting of mountains, a
long avenue of tall cryptomerias that seemed to extend for miles,
cultivated fields, and luxuriant vegetation freshened by the recent
rain. Nature put forth her loveliest Spring tints, to which cherry
blossoms ever and anon gave a touch of color. Arriving at Tokio in the
afternoon, and going to the Imperial Hotel, I had a two days' reunion
with eight of the "party" who had already arrived there. We took a
general drive on the first afternoon, past the palace built on the ruins
of the old Shogun palace, in its new guise a long rambling building of
yellow brick. The old gateways with their towers were at the front
entrance and were a feature of the scene. The arrangement of the rooms
in the interior of the palace was said to be pleasing, the dining-room
being unusually large. The walls and decorations are also fine, but the
furnishings, a mixture of Japanese and European styles, are not so
harmonious. We also passed the Crown Prince's palace, and then went on
from Hibiya Park to the street on which are situated the brick buildings
of the Naval Department, the Judicial Department, and the Courts of
Justice.
[Illustration: _The Imperial Palace at Tokio_]
We saw the Russian Embassy, the Chinese Legation, and also some palaces
and residences of many officers and foreign embassies. This
neighborhood, called Nagata-cha, is the most fashionable in Tokio. Near
the palace lies a garden planted with azaleas, and also containing some
trellises wholly covered in season with wistaria. We also passed a fine
Shinto temple and several statues, and, on an eminence, saw the Russian
Cathedral, consecrated in 1891.
The following morning we went to Shiba Park. Until 1887 this formed the
grounds of a great Buddhist temple, and here are still preserved the
mortuary temples of several Tokugawa Shoguns, Ieyasu, the founder of
that dynasty, having chosen it as the temple where the funeral tablets
of himself and of his descendants should be enshrined. There are several
temples in the park, and they rank among the chief marvels of Japanese
art. They are somewhat after the style of the temples at Nikko. All of
them have a wonderful setting of green, the many fine trees and the
beautiful park forming an excellent background. Each of these mortuary
temples consists of three parts, an outer oratory, a connecting
gallery, and an inner sanctuary. In each of these the decorations are of
gilt and different colors, with elaborate patterns which are almost
dazzling to the eye.
On one occasion we visited Ueno Park, famed for its temples and tombs of
the Shoguns; it is a most popular resort in Tokio, and is celebrated for
its display of cherry blossoms in the month of April, during which
season there are held gala times. Six Shoguns, members of the Tokugawa
family, lie buried at Ueno. In general style the tombs here resemble
those at Shiba Park.
There are many objects of interest in Ueno Park other than its temples.
One is the bronze image of Buddha, twenty-one and a half feet high,
known as Dai-butsu, near which is a massive torii. We passed along an
avenue of stately cryptomerias where stands an ancient pagoda. There is
also a long row of very large stone lanterns, presented as a tribute to
the memory of the Shogun, Ieyasu. While in Ueno Park the attendant
pointed out, in a small enclosure, two diminutive trees,--a hinoki,
planted by General Grant, and a magnolia by Mrs. Grant during their
visit to Tokio.
The Ueno Museum proved interesting, particularly in the historical and
archæological departments. Near the Museum is a public library and
reading-room--the largest in the Empire. In the distance we saw the
Imperial University, which has a very high reputation, even foreign
students attending there for the purpose of studying art.
[Illustration: _Court of the Temple Shiba at Tokio_]
* * * * *
ASAKUSA: The district of Asakusa possesses a fine park, and here also is
the spacious Temple of Higashi Hongwanji, the chief religious edifice of
the Monto sect of Buddhists. It is very plain in its architecture, but
is noted principally for its proportions. The area of the matted floor
of the nave alone is one hundred and fifty mats, and around the front
and sides is a wooden aisle one hundred and twelve feet wide.
Tokio has many other temples and parks, but of these, as I have said,
Ueno is the most popular; around us were crowds of gayly dressed grown
people and children, all in holiday attire; various games for adults and
children were in progress, and there was a tea-house where refreshments
were being served. To me this appeared in very truth a park for the
people.
The Botanical Garden is also quite interesting. A long, imposing street
led down to it from Ueno Park, and on this were situated the principal
shops of the city, with curio nooks in abundance. These, of course, were
larger and more pretentious than the bazars spoken of elsewhere, some
of them being three stories in height, the first of the kind we had seen
in Japan. Taken as a whole, Tokio is a large, populous city, with a
bright future before it. I now was obliged to turn my face toward
Yokohama, it being a comparatively short distance from Tokio. Here I
found a number of friends whom I had met at different points and who
were about to leave for San Francisco,--my own departure for North China
to occur the following morning.
To visit North China, I was compelled to return to Shanghai in order to
join the Collver Tours party I had met at Kyoto. I left Yokohama on
March 3d by rail for Kobe, arriving at the Oriental Hotel about 9 P.M.
The route by day was very pleasant, as we saw much fine scenery, and for
some time Mt. Fujiyama rose before us in the distance. At Kobe I found
that the steamer, _Mongolia_, would be delayed, and therefore I would
need to remain there until the second day. The following morning, I took
a jinrikisha ride to the country and revisited several points of
interest.
[Illustration: _Gate of Chionin in Kyoto_]
[Illustration: _Ueno Park Pagoda_]
* * * * *
_June 6th_: I was awakened at seven on the morning of June 6th by the
voice of the guide saying, "We are now in the narrowest part of the
Inland Sea." I arose quickly, and, glancing out of the port-hole,
beheld a scene of loveliness which caused a spontaneous exclamation,
"Oh, how beautiful!" Before me on the left was an island clad in
verdure; behind, the towering mountains; then farther off, a lesser
peak, sloping down to the sea; a promontory jutted out at the right,
ribbed with terraces from which peeped forth tiny shoots of delicate
green. Scarcely had I time to catch a glimpse before the panorama
changed. This scene was repeated with slight variations until suddenly
there appeared a break, and in a cove were moored many little boats;
next came a tall mountain sloping down to the sea, with a wealth of
foliage along the side, while on the top was a fringe of tall trees,
like so many hills seen in Japan. I had cause to wonder if this too was
not one of the many expressions of Nature's artistic sense.
One scene succeeded another, and I became almost oblivious to all
thought of dressing until the gong rang for breakfast. I felt
rebellious, and, on that morning at least, the meal seemed a
desecration, the sacrifice of an opportunity. Once before, I had a
similar early morning experience; that was at Laggan, on the Canadian
Pacific Railway, when, on awakening, I beheld directly opposite my
window lovely Lake Louise and the beautiful glacier mirrored within the
opalescent blue. This day in Japan ended with a glorious sunset, and,
as the gold and azure melted away into nothingness, it was a fitful
close to hours of rare enjoyment.
On the morning following, I was again awakened, this time by the magic
word Nagasaki, and I beheld another never-to-be-forgotten scene. The
harbor and shipping lay in the foreground; beyond the shore line rose
large buildings, smaller ones creeping up the mountain side; this whole
panorama was bathed in sunlight. Immediately on landing a jinrikisha
ride was enjoyed, and I was propelled about in an aimless fashion,
enjoying the street scenes, visiting the heights, and the Horse's
Temple. It was a restless, irresponsible kind of day that I enjoyed, and
I returned to the steamer at five o'clock with considerable regret. Half
an hour later we were sailing away for Shanghai; and again we saw
islands, promontories, and inlets quite like those of the day previous.
On Saturday morning, the 9th, we were anchored at Wusong, waiting for
the arrival of the health officer. Thereafter we took a ride of an hour
in the steam launch. Shanghai seemed more European on our second
arrival, and the Bund on the front more attractive. We made the Palace
Hotel our destination, and learned with regret of the non-arrival of the
Trans-Siberian party from Manila. Some steamer friends and other
acquaintances were at Shanghai, and the time passed pleasantly amongst
them.
I attended divine service at St. John's Cathedral on Sunday morning, and
in the evening the delayed party arrived; I was so fortunate as to have
two home friends among the number.
Monday began by a general tour of sight-seeing for the party; to a
certain extent I thus went over the ground again, taking jinrikisha
rides through a portion of the European native city, and visiting the
entire French concession. French names were on the business houses and
on many of the streets. This concession is governed by a municipality of
its own.
Four restful days were passed at Shanghai, and at ten on the evening of
May 12th, we went to our steamer, the _Tuck-Wo_, for a trip on the
celebrated Yangtse River. The steamer was large and airy, with pleasant
decks; everything wore a thoroughly homelike air. The scenery on the
lower Yangtse is rather flat and disappointing, but in the morning there
were some vegetation and many agreeable glimpses of life, with vistas of
modest homes and little patches of cultivated ground around them. The
shores were covered with tall vegetation which, we were told, grows
quite tall and is then cut, dried, and used as fuel by the natives. At
first, during our trip, there had been only a low fringe of trees in the
distant background; now mountains appeared as a striking variation, and
thus we had alternating scenes which added to the spatial interest from
this time on. There were occasional picturesque points and promontories
that jutted out into the sea; clustering around, were many large and
smaller craft; once I counted thirty-six in one place.
The steamer anchored at Chang-wang-kong on the second evening, and we
were permitted to go ashore for two hours. We had noticed a brilliantly
lighted building, four stories high, every window gleaming and
presenting an imposing appearance; we naturally expected some artistic
effect in the interior, but, when we came to visit it, the illusion
vanished, as the first and second stories were cut up into small rooms,
each filled with Chinese folk intent upon securing their evening meal;
adjacent rooms were devoted to the culinary operations. Dirt and
confusion and odors permeated everywhere, and we declined to ascend to
the upper story, where the Chinese game of fan-tan was in progress.
Certain homelike English buildings clung near the water front, and we
walked through the usual crowded Chinese streets. The town was laid out
in one long thoroughfare, overlooking the water and sloping backward to
the lesser mountains. We returned, content with the good cheer aboard
our steamer, and were soon sailing on.
[Illustration: _The Little Orphan Rock in the Yangtse River_]
We passed Nanking, formerly the southern capital of China and once a
place of great importance--indeed, a seat of learning and of art. Only
the distant walls could be seen. A little north of Nanking are located
two of the Ming tombs.
The following morning, at eleven, we were again permitted to land, this
time at Wu-ho, quite a large town and evidently the centre for several
industries. After wandering through a few native streets, we took
jinrikishas and visited the heights above. Here was situated a fine
garden filled with rose trees all in bloom, the property of the son of
the noted statesman, Li Hung Chang. This was said to be one of his many
palaces; at present he is Minister to England. The afternoon afforded us
a variety of points of interest to seek out; long low islands, boldly
defined mountains, an occasional village, and coves filled with shipping
of all kinds, from the sampan to the five-sail junk. The shores were
clothed with the wonderful green of Spring, which, to my mind, was
excelled only by the matchless verdure of Java.
On the morning of May 15th we met with constant surprises; first, there
was the boldly defined little Orphan Rock, the seat of a Buddhist
monastery which contained, however, only a small retinue of monks. Two
hours later, on the left side of the Yangtse River, there appeared for
the first time a long avenue of trees near the water's edge, while
beyond it was a range of mountains higher than we had seen. Nestling
between two mountains which seemed to hug the water was a village with a
remarkable wall stretching from one peak to the other, and curving down,
thus encircling the town; this wall had a crenellated edge and was
perfectly preserved.
The mountain range continued for some time, and then was succeeded by
the more prevailing flat shore, which soon merged again into mountains.
Perched high up on a projecting hill, another monastery gleamed white
through the encircling trees. We sailed onward toward the right, and the
Captain pointed out on our left the entrance to Lake Poyang, which shone
in the distance, and rising boldly out of which could be dimly seen the
greater Orphan Island, where towered a large pagoda said to be two
hundred and fifty feet high. From now on, the scenery changed rapidly,
and first one side of the shore and then the other side claimed our
attention and admiration; the river being very wide, and the steamer
also constantly changing its course, we were thus given a fine
opportunity for observation.
[Illustration: _Road to Kaling above Kia-Kiang_]
Our next excitement occurred when we approached Kia-kiang. We first saw
a high rocky promontory on which a tall seven-story pagoda stood, like
a veritable sentinel; rounding the point, a long shore line was
protected by a seawall which stretched to the extreme point of land
where Kia-kiang is situated. Near the pagoda were homes and native
buildings, then some business houses; farther back from the shore rose
another towering pagoda, and farther still another, while a tiny temple
was perched on an eminence. Embowered in trees, we also found the white
homes of foreign residents, presumably English. There was a great deal
of shipping in port which gave evidence of the city's being a business
centre. Three hours' time was given us on land, but few availed
themselves of the privilege because of a heavy rain. On leaving
Kia-kiang a low shore was seen, then a long island, covered with homes
of a simple kind, with their little gardens; every inch of ground was
under cultivation. The shades of night soon shut off our view, but at 9
A.M. we were again anchored--this time at Wu-such. Only the gleaming
lights in the distance were visible. Two more places were to be passed
during the night, Wang-tu-kiang and Wen-chou; and Hankow was to confront
us on the morrow.
The Yangtse River rises three thousand miles away, near Tibet, and
covers the whole of the Empire; thus far we had traversed six hundred
miles of it. Despite what we praised, however, we could not help
longing to meet with the bolder scenery which a longer trip would have
revealed to us. A heavy rain prevented much sight-seeing at Hankow on
the first day, which was fortunately Sunday; thus we received our
initial impressions of the city from the steamer, a view which took in a
long Bund, fronting the water's edge, and filled with fine buildings,
evidently of a European style of architecture; we were told that they
were the different homes of the English, French, and German consulates,
the French even having a special park attached to theirs. At the extreme
left were large business houses and a club. Hankow is a great depository
for tea, and, with the two adjacent cities of Han-yang and Wu-chang, it
has an immense population, reaching into the millions. Many religious
denominations are said to be represented in Hankow, but we saw no
pretentious churches. The harbor or water-front has a stone embankment;
a large amount of shipping is to be seen, many of the boats being of
peculiar construction.
[Illustration: _The Hankow bund_]
The following morning, we had a few hours in which to view the city
before taking the train for Peking. We first visited the native quarter.
The heavy rain of the previous day caused a great deal of mud, and as we
attempted to drive through the narrow streets and bazars, the dirt
floors of the little homes and shops were a sea of mud, while the
inmates were preparing breakfast and attending to other domestic
avocations in perfect unconcern; it was certainly not an inspiring
scene, and the worst native quarter we had visited during our stay in
China. We did not extend our observation very far, but turned to the
more attractive Bund, which is about three miles in extent. Here we had
a nearer view of the consulates, from each of which a street led down to
the water's edge. In the French concession we noticed the same naming of
streets and buildings that we had seen in Shanghai; this was also true
of the German and English concessions, thus making of each a little
miniature city. There is a fine English club at Hankow, and a long line
of tea factories called godowns; the odor of tea was distinctly
noticeable for three blocks. From May to the middle of July the tea
industry of Hankow is great, and large numbers of dealers and
speculators interested in the business congregate there.
We took the train at 11 A.M. for Peking, with every expectation of
arriving there at 4 P.M.
* * * * *
PEKING, _March 18th_: The railway trip from Hankow to Peking is not
interesting, for it is largely over a vast extent of plain without
foliage or vegetation. Occasionally we passed small towns with a few
planted trees. The latter part of the way seemed almost like a desert;
there being little to observe, one had time to reflect, and, in some
inscrutable manner, the immensity of China, its extreme age, its teeming
population, and its unreality, judged by Western standards, began to
dawn on me. I had previously failed to realize that I was actually in
China. Having seen the Chinese at several points before reaching
Hong-Kong, that city with its English environment did not impress me
greatly. Canton seemed an unrelated place, a kind of a by-play. The
Shanghai I knew was modern.
As we approached Peking, we caught a glimpse of the Great Wall, a
massive gray bulk, with the immense corner tower, which produced a
feeling of awe, standing as though it were an entrance into a city of
mystery--a walled town of over twenty miles in circumference which was
virtually the product of four walled cities in one. We were housed in
the new and spacious Grand Hôtel des Wagons-lits. Our stay was to cover
just a little over a week; hence vigorous sight-seeing was at once
inaugurated, and the first impression received was the great age of
everything that surrounded us.
[Illustration: _The Great Wall at Peking_]
Peking was made the capital of the whole Empire by Mongol Kublai Khan,
the Wise, a munificent ruler who laid the foundation plan of what we see
to-day; but the origin of the city dates back some centuries before the
Christian era. The Ming Dynasty extended over nearly three centuries;
then China, being threatened by an invasion of the Manchus from the
north, was aided in her resistance by the Manchus at home, and, through
a peculiar combination, they secured possession of the throne and have
held it ever since. The foreign rule is hated by the true Chinese.
The four sections of Peking are: (1) The Forbidden City, called the
Purple City by the Chinese because formerly only purple mortar was used.
It consists virtually of a palace and adjacent buildings, and embraces a
population of nearly six thousand. This portion of the city has for ages
been closed to foreigners, with the exception of a few months
immediately after the Boxer trouble in 1900, when excursions to the
Forbidden City were made, photographs secured, and also a small
guide-book prepared. (2) The Imperial City surrounds the Forbidden City,
and is now in great part closed. (3) The Tartar City surrounds the
Imperial City, and is called the "city within" because it lies within
the walls. (4) The Chinese or Southern City is south of the Tartar City,
and extends somewhat beyond it to the east and west.
Next to the Great Wall, the gateways should demand our interest. There
are several, and Hata-men is the one which we frequently passed through.
It was always thronged. The most densely crowded entrance, however, was
the Chinese gate, Chien-men; here, at times, it was almost impossible
for the jinrikisha to make a passage. The street scenes in Peking are
wonderful because of their variety, and the length of the streets adds
to their picturesqueness, although they are not quite so spectacular as
those of Jeypore, India.
Many different styles of dress are seen. I noticed the long flowing robe
of the Manchu women, with the Manchu head-dress and a remarkable
arrangement of hair on a frame, spreading at the back with a sort of
elongated butterfly effect, and held in place by a bright gold hairpin.
The bands of hair are brought over in a way to give the impression of
long loops, and they are decorated with bright flowers. The Manchu women
are taller than the Chinese women, and walk with a statelier tread, as
their feet have never been bound, the present Empress many years ago
having issued an edict prohibiting that custom. The edict is, however,
evaded, as Chinese fathers and husbands insist that the custom be kept
up, seeming to imagine that abolishing it would have some peculiar
effect on the character of the wife, perhaps resulting in
insubordination. The Chinese women part their glossy black hair in the
middle, wear it in smooth bands down the side of the forehead, and dress
it in the back in a great variety of low loops. They also wear
jewelled and gold hairpins that are really very artistic. Their dress
consists of the long black sack coat and loose trousers, much like those
of a man. The children of Peking, unlike those of the Orient, where
clothes are virtually dispensed with, wear long-sleeved, high-necked
garments reaching to the feet.
[Illustration: _Hata-men Gate_]
The bazars and shopping streets in Peking were interesting, many of the
buildings rising four stories in height, and having the same long narrow
decorated signs that I described in Canton. At intervals along the way
very high poles are erected, and on these are placed different kinds of
signs, giving these streets a brilliant appearance. The usual throng of
dealers and of diverse nationalities are represented, resulting in a
great deal of bustle and activity, a great deal of noise and dirt. The
crowds around some of the gateways included rows of vehicles and
sometimes a group of camels; but the most individual of all conveyances
is the Peking cart; indeed, I have never seen any inanimate object that
wore so individual an air, and when viewed in large numbers, their
appearance is most peculiar. This cart is two-wheeled, with a roof, and
with sides and back enclosed. One horse is used. In the front opening
sits the driver, some one usually at his side, while behind him, far in
the back, may be seen the faces of the occupants peering out. Many of
the carts used by the ordinary people have no windows or openings on the
side; others have windows covered with a kind of netting which admits
some air.
The Llama Temple is considered to be one of the most important places to
visit; it is in the eastern quarter of the Tartar City. The rule has
been that just as soon as an emperor ascends the throne, the palace that
he had previously occupied shall be changed into a temple. Such was the
origin of the Llama Temple, once presided over by three thousand Mongol
Llamas, and, at the head of them, a living Buddha. The temple has six
parts: first the outside gate, then the entrance gate, then a large hall
of very imposing proportions, in front of this a tablet upon which is
inscribed the history of Llamaism. Before this tablet rests a bronze
incense burner eight feet high, and on the southwest wall of the temple
hangs a picture of the universe, upheld by the four-clawed feet of a
huge sea-monster with three eyes. There are also three lofty pavilions.
Beautiful silken rugs used to be laid on the floor of the impressive
hall, and on the walls were very fine hangings. Many precious articles
were carried away in 1900, at the time of the Boxer trouble, and some
may still be hidden.
[Illustration: _Peking girls_]
[Illustration: _Llama Temple_]
There is a colossal Buddha here of very evil countenance, towering three
stories, and said to be seventy feet high. To those versed in Buddhist
lore, these buildings are full of interest; it is only within a few
years that the place has been open to the public. The Llama monks
present a very impressive appearance at their evening service, with
their long gowns crossed over, and their high caps like ancient Roman
casques.
In construction, the Confucian Temple, near by, is similar to all
Confucian temples throughout China; the hall is eighty-four feet long
and the teakwood pillars forty feet high. In front there is a marble
terrace, twenty-eight yards long and fifteen feet wide, reached on three
sides by seventeen steps. The inscription on the Confucius tablet,
written in Chinese and Manchu dialects, says: "The tablet of the soul of
the most holy ancestral teacher, Confucius." Other tablets to noted
teachers hang on either side. There are rows of cypresses in front of
the hall said to have been planted one thousand years ago; and on each
side of the court are buildings containing tablets to over one hundred
celebrated scholars. A temple court extends in front, with six monuments
which record foreign conquests by emperors. In the court of the
Triennial Examinations there is a stone tablet to commemorate each
session, on which are engraved the names and homes of all students who
receive the title of Doctor of Literature.
Another unique building, west of the Confucius Temple, is the Hall of
the Classics. Here there is a richly decorated pailow, with encaustic
tiles, chiefly green and yellow; the three archways are lined with white
marble. This hall was designed by the Emperor, Chien Lung, to complete
the Confucius Temple, in which till then the classics had been
expounded. It is lofty and square, with double eaves, yellow tiles,
surmounted by a specially large gilt ball, and encircled by a fringe
carried to the roof and supported by massive wooden pillars. In the
centre is a circular pool of water, edged by marble balustrades, with a
bridge spanning it. There is also a remarkable sun-dial. Two hundred
upright stone monuments engraved on both sides contain the complete text
of the nine classics, very finely executed; it was thought thus to
preserve the purity of the text. There are also more lists of successful
students on stone monoliths.
The Drum Tower was another point visited, one of the most striking
objects in Peking; it is oblong and quite Chinese in character, the
upper story being of wood, the lower of brick. It is one hundred feet
high and about the same in length toward the base. It was built under
the Mongol dynasty; a very large drum stands in the middle of the last
story, and a climb of sixty-eight steps up a steep Chinese staircase
gave us a fine view of the entire city. A short distance from the Drum
Tower is the Bell Tower. This is built of brick and stone, ninety feet
high, and is also Mongol in origin; the bell weighs twenty thousand
pounds and is still used to tell the watches of the night; the drum in
the tower is struck at the same time.
[Illustration: _A Peking cart_]
[Illustration: _The Confucius Temple_]
[Illustration: _Temple of Classics_]
Some Chinese authority states that there are ten thousand temples in
Peking, all built under the Mongol dynasty (thirteenth century), or the
Ming dynasty (fifteenth and sixteenth centuries). Of these, the most
striking is the Temple or Altar of Heaven in the southern part of the
Chinese City, erected by the Ming Emperor, Yung-loh, in 1421; the
enclosure, a fine park, measures about six thousand feet around. There
are three large, imposing gates,--south, east, and west. To the north,
the wall is crescent shaped and is without an entrance. The Altar or
Temple of Heaven, open to the sky, is circular and of white marble. It
is three stories high; the base measures two hundred and ten feet
across, the second story one hundred and fifty feet, the third ninety
feet. One large marble slab is in the centre. The white marble
balustrades are richly carved to represent clouds. In the upper story,
there are seventy-two pillars; in the middle, one hundred and eight; and
in the lower, one hundred and eighty; thus making, in all, three hundred
and sixty, the number of degrees in a circle. It is on the central
marble slab that the Emperor stands and prostrates himself, worshipping
under the blue arch of heaven. He goes three times a year to this
temple, praying before daybreak, and having spent the previous night in
the Grand Hall of Abstinence close by.
Between this and the closed Altar of Heaven, there is the small Temple
of Prayer, where the ancestral tablets are kept, capped by one of the
most remarkable roofs in Peking. This temple is a gem; its bricks and
tiles are of the finest porcelain, and everything dates from the best
period of Chinese art. The northern Temple of Heaven has a three-fold
roof of blue tiles, recently rebuilt, the early one having been burned
down. There are magnificent columns in this, and the ceiling is very
elaborate. Before leaving the enclosure at the left of the gateway, we
went through a large palace not in use at the present time, except on
rare occasions; this was not in the itinerary, but our guide secured
admission by paying a generous fee. Only a few rooms were furnished, but
these were in excellent taste.
[Illustration: _The Inner Temple of Heaven_]
We next drove to the Altar or Temple of Agriculture. This is where
General Chaffee and the American troops were quartered after the relief
of Peking in 1900. The hall is the largest in the city, but there is
nothing special to see in it. The rites observed here are nearly as
important as those at the Temple of Heaven. The enclosure is two miles
in circumference. The first two altars are rectangular; that of the
Spirits of Heaven, on the east, is fifty feet long and four and one-half
feet high; and the marble tablets therein contain the names of the
celebrated mountains, lakes, and seas of China. On the first day of the
second period of Spring, the Emperor goes there with three princes, nine
great men, and a numerous following, all of them understood to be
fasting. After they have worshipped, they proceed to the field which has
been prepared; the bullock, the plough, and other accessories are all of
Imperial yellow. The Emperor traces a furrow from east to west;
returning four times, he thus makes eight furrows. The First Minister of
the Treasury stands on the right with a whip, the Viceroy of the
Province on the left with the grain, while a third official scatters the
seed behind the Emperor. The three Princes each plough ten furrows, and
so the work proceeds through all the dignitaries, according to their
rank. The afternoon was one of the most interesting we spent in Peking,
the temperature being perfect like our own June at home; all Nature was
in harmony with the scene.
The Observatory was formerly one of the most distinctive sights in
Peking. It affords a magnificent view towards the south of the wall of
the Tartar City. The wonderful bronze instruments therein have outlived
their usefulness, but their artistic merit makes them a glory and a joy.
The Examination Hall was formerly situated close by the site of the
Observatory, but when we were there it was being dismantled. The old
method of examination is being given up, and the reform is one of the
progressive changes in Peking, upsetting the precedent of ages. The
examination of students is now carried on very much as it is in other
countries.
Leaving the city, we drove some miles along the outskirts to the Yellow
Temple. There are two temples, the eastern and the western; and, in
front, are two very beautiful pavilions. Chien Lung repaired the western
temple and changed it into a dwelling for Mongol princes, who arrived
each year to pay their tribute. This is one of the finest buildings in
China; it has great size, beautiful proportions, and a square entrance
porch; but, since its occupation in 1900 by some of the Allied Forces,
it has begun to fall into ruins. The eastern temple is in good
condition, and critics claim that its proportions surpass those of any
temple in Japan. The magnificent white marble monument or pagoda was
erected by Chien Lung over the grave of the Teshu Llama who died of
small-pox while on a visit there. On the eight sides of the memorial
are engraved scenes in the Llama's life; these bas-reliefs are very
interesting. The great White Temple is the most beautiful monument in
the environs of Peking, and it is well worth the long drive to see it.
On our return, we passed through the usual number of gates, from the
Chinese to the Tartar, and from the Tartar to the Imperial; only a small
portion of this latter section can be seen, but we caught glimpses of
the many lovely buildings in the Forbidden City, and it was most
tantalizing not to be able to enter the sacred precincts. From a sketch
taken in 1900, we can form an idea of the many interesting points in
this Forbidden City. The Imperial City, enclosing the Forbidden City, is
over five miles in circumference; its walls are eighteen feet high, with
four entrances about seventy feet wide. There are three gates, the
central one of which is reserved for the Emperor. People are allowed to
look in, but not to enter by this southern gate; the northern and
eastern gates are open to the public.
[Illustration: _Outer Heaven, Temple of Heaven, Peking_]
One view in the Forbidden City is that of the Coal Hall, two hundred and
ten feet high. It dates from the Mongol dynasty, when coal is said to
have been piled up there as a provision in case of siege, the Ming
Emperor having covered it all with beautiful pavilions.
Beyond the wall to the north is the Hall of Longevity, where the
Emperor's coffin remains after his death and until his funeral.
The White Dagoba is conspicuous in all Peking views; it is within the
gardens which are reserved for the court, and was built by the first
emperor of the present dynasty as a shrine for a very fine Buddha. The
White Dagoba is regarded as the palladium of the Empire, and stands at
the very centre of the loveliest part of the palace grounds. A little
farther to the west is found the finest pailow in Peking, made of very
beautiful encaustic tiles; and behind a neighboring hillock rests the
celebrated dragon screen, sixty feet long and twenty feet high; it was
built to protect the library, which was unfortunately burned during the
occupation of the allied forces in 1900.
A noticeable feature is the Temple of Ten Thousand Buddhas, all of
glittering Imperial yellow, the walls covered with animals and small
images of Buddha. The three lakes, northern, middle, and southern, are a
little over two miles long; a beautiful marble bridge connects the
northern with the middle lake.
[Illustration: _The White Pagoda of the Yellow Temple_]
The Winter or Skating Palace was distinctive for the finest wood
carvings in China; these were also burned by accident in 1900. A large
pavilion, surrounded by a circular wall, is near the marble bridge. In
this pavilion is the throne, and it was there audience was given to
several European ambassadors in 1893; there also the Emperor puts on
mourning garments,--when, for instance, he had to grieve for his father,
Prince Chan. At the northeast corner of the palace stands the fine
yellow-tiled temple, with an imposing entrance; it has large gates,
within the outer of which are two very quaint pavilions. Four or five
roofs are piled, one on the other, and these can be distinctly seen from
outside the walls of the Forbidden City. This brief outline may give one
a little idea of what the public are deprived of seeing. Most of the
buildings of the Forbidden City are yellow-tiled, as are also the walls.
The Summer Palace is the only one of the Peking buildings that dates
from the present Manchu dynasty. There had previously been a palace
there, but it had a long while since fallen into decay. It is said to
have had lovely gardens, and many canals winding in and out, while in
other places little miniature lakes are formed. The principal palace is
attractive and rises on an eminence, but there are pavilions and lesser
buildings scattered about. The present palace is, however, very inferior
to those royal residences of olden times; it suffered greatly in 1900;
the Russian soldiers seemed to take delight in destroying works of art
and historic buildings. Some of the marble bridges are very effective,
and there is a marble boat, not in itself very beautiful, but a
picturesque feature as it lay anchored by the lake. We saw it from a
high hill beyond the Emperor's palace, where is located a Buddhist
pagoda. We had a view of the palace with its enclosure and its minor
buildings.
This was one feature seen during an excursion which a friend and I took,
escorted by a guide and a picnic luncheon basket on Saturday, May 25th.
We left the hotel early for a six-mile drive, passing first through the
crowded streets, again noting the dusty way of the Imperial City, which
wound around near the walls of the Forbidden City, every pinnacle and
roof gleaming in the morning light. Leaving the outskirts of the town,
the country view was the pleasantest we had seen. Our road lay alongside
of the canal, where there were more trees and less dust.
On the way we first visited the Five Pagoda Buddhist Temple, which seems
to belong to a different world from that of to-day. It is a square mass
of masonry fifty feet high, covered with old colored tiles and with
beautiful reliefs of camels. On its flat top there are five pagodas,
each eleven stories high; also, adjacent to it, a very elegant square
pagoda, and, in front of it, what seems like the top of another large
pagoda. Farther on, we saw the Ten Thousand Buddha Temple; it is not
remarkable architecturally, and there are two large spacious
buildings with a court between them. One of them consists of two
stories, in both of which is a large room lined with little compartments
containing small gilt Buddhas. The guide said there was a total of nine
hundred and ninety-nine already, and the thousandth place was reserved
for the Dowager Empress when she died.
[Illustration: _The Winter Palace of the Forbidden City_]
[Illustration: _View from the Forbidden City_]
We drove on to the village, adjacent to the Summer Palace, where we took
jinrikishas for a ride of about two miles, following along the outskirts
of the Summer Palace. Here were some temples, evidently not now used as
places of worship, since the guide informed us that our luncheon would
be served in the open court of one of them. After our impromptu meal we
proceeded to walk about half a mile farther and then ascended an
eminence with several flights of stairs leading to the pagoda which I
have previously alluded to. We obtained, not only a view of the Summer
Palace, but of the surrounding country. The little pagoda was several
stories high, and very tasteful in all its appointments; it is said to
have been built in commemoration of some event, but the guide could give
us no exact information. We retraced our way to the city, and then drove
through certain streets in order to enjoy the peculiar life around us.
The three or four miles stretching between the Chien-men and Hata-men
gates on that Saturday afternoon surpass description. The Emperor's
middle gate barred out the crowds; this opened on a somewhat discolored
bridge, with fine carving and artistic balustrades, but the eye does not
like to linger here long on account of the crowds of beggars everywhere
visible; indeed, the hordes of women, children, vehicles, and
processions of every variety seemed incredible. Funeral cortèges in
particular were very doleful; discordant music preceded the funeral car,
and the crowds of paid mourners in motley dress, many of them picked up
off the street for the occasion, were a new and distasteful feature. We
saw on that trip three of these funerals, all similarly arranged, but
only one modest wedding procession. The bride sat in a red silk-covered
chair or palanquin, surrounded by friends; the usual attempts were made
at music. Whether the happy lady was Manchu or Chinese we were unable to
determine, the curtains being carefully drawn.
This thoroughfare, between the two gates alluded to, is famous for its
gayly decorated shops with long, ornamented signs and banners flying in
every direction. There are many such streets in Peking, and a few shady
residence thoroughfares, but our way usually led through the congested
sections. Pailows, where streets are crossed at right angles, are
interesting, and they have usually commemorative arches; and
sometimes the business houses of the locality bear their name, as the
Four Pailow Shop.
[Illustration: _Marble Terrace of the Summer Palace_]
[Illustration: _Marble Bridge of the Summer Palace_]
Legation Street is the home for ambassadors and ministers, and is a
decided contrast to the majority of native streets. Many of the foreign
buildings are fine, the grounds large, with imposing gateways, over
which may be seen the coat of arms of the country which is represented.
The British Legation was formerly a palace. In the grounds is the
English Chapel; here we attended service on Sunday. Our hotel was nearly
opposite the British Embassy; hence, in going in or out, we usually
touched Legation Street.
A notable excursion from Peking is to the Great Wall and the Ming tombs.
The Wall we were to see was not the original one, built in 215 B.C., but
an inner wall of the seventh century, which had still later been rebuilt
by the Ming emperors. We left in the morning for the Nankow Hotel, where
we were to pass the night. On our way to the Peking station, we saw the
Emperor, _en route_ from his Summer Palace to the city, in a yellow silk
sedan chair, numerously attended by persons also robed in yellow. After
luncheon at Nankow, we took sedan chairs ourselves for a twenty-six-mile
ride to the Great Wall through the Nankow Pass. The long processions of
guides and chairs were very picturesque, and there were also extra
attendants as a necessary relay. The road was rather rough and very
dusty, and our progress was therefore slow. Our roadway wound along,
sometimes near a mountain, which lay on one side, with the valley on the
other. The first gateway or arch we passed through was profusely
decorated, having as a frieze a row of six Buddhas to right and left,
and large Chinese figures below. Farther on, we came to another gateway,
and then to another, the Pa-ta-ling, thirteen miles from Nankow and the
top of the Nankow Pass. From every side long vistas could be seen; then
portions of the Wall winding in and out, and ever and anon a massive
watch tower looming forth.
We left our chairs and walked a considerable way up the mountain side to
the ruined watch towers; the one I entered was a large oblong building,
with six windows and two doorways; farther on was another similar watch
tower, and, at a greater distance, another. These add greatly to the
picturesqueness of the wide massive wall--wide enough for two or three
persons to ride abreast. Taken altogether, the view from the Nankow Pass
is one of the most magnificent I have ever seen, and, of course,
entirely unlike any other. It was a glorious day, and all the elements
seemed to conspire to make it a perfect occasion.
[Illustration: _Nankow Pass_]
Resuming our chairs, we proceeded to retrace our steps; and in about an
hour we stopped at a little hamlet for an afternoon collation furnished
by our very thoughtful Director. The shades of night were beginning to
fall when we resumed our journey, and erelong darkness overtook us. We
were all more or less separated, as the guides made no attempt to keep
together; and the sensation of being propelled by natives who did not
speak one word of English was very peculiar and uncomfortable.
We arrived at the hotel about nine in the evening; a late dinner
followed, and we separated with the expectation of meeting in the
morning at five, for the departure to the Ming tombs. This is a distance
of eight miles, or sixteen there and back to Nankow. The cavalcade left
in the same fashion as on the day previous. Our way led us over the
hills,--an irregular roadway, first through a field and past two little
villages. We then came to a magnificently carved pailow of white marble,
fifty feet high, eighty feet wide, and divided into five openings by
square pillars. Half a mile farther on stands the Red Gate; and there
was formerly a beautiful pavilion of white marble, supported on four
carved columns. It may be well to state before proceeding, that there
are in this vicinity, within a few miles of each other, thirteen Ming
tombs, the Ming dynasty preceding the present one. Yung-lohi is
considered the finest of the group, and this was now to be our objective
point. Half a mile beyond the pailow already alluded to is the Red Gate.
Next is the Holy Way. From here on for about half a mile, there is a
regular procession of animals and persons, all cut out of bluish marble
monoliths, remarkable for their workmanship and for their great size,
which causes one to speculate how they could have been brought from the
quarry. First, there are two columns decorated with sculptured clouds,
two lions couchant, two lions rampant. Then, in similar manner, four
camels, four elephants, and so on. After this come four military
officials, four civil officials, four celebrated men, each made from a
single block of marble, standing on opposite sides of the way, and all
wearing the old Ming dress used by the Chinese before the Manchus
introduced their own costumes.
Leaving the Holy Way, we passed through another arch, and came out on a
street formerly paved with marble slabs. At some distance to one side,
we saw two of the Ming tombs alluded to. We passed three marble bridges,
one of seven arches, very much broken down. Two miles farther on, there
is the principal enclosure around Yung-loh's tomb; it has a pavilion
protecting a huge tablet with white marble steps and railings carved
to represent clouds, phoenix, and dragons. Beyond lies the great hall,
seventy yards long by thirty yards wide, and supported upon eight rows
of teakwood pillars, four in each row, measuring twelve feet in
circumference and sixty feet high. This is a typical ancestral hall. Our
luncheon was served to us here.
[Illustration: _A tower of the Great Wall_]
[Illustration: _Five Arch: First pailow of the Ming Tomb_]
Passing through another great yard planted with cypresses and oaks, a
way cut into solid masonry leads up to the carefully closed door of the
tomb. This passage divides into two branches, both leading to a long
flight of steps which mount to the top of the terrace, where,
immediately above the coffin passage, is an immense upright slab bearing
an inscription. The mound on which this tomb is placed is half a mile in
circuit, and, though artificial, looks natural, being planted with
cypresses and oaks to the very top. The emperors used to come in the
Spring and Autumn to sacrifice at these ancient graves, but for two
centuries this duty has been left to a descendant of the Ming emperors.
There were different features to each of the Ming tombs, but, having
seen the representative one, we were content to return to Nankow, as we
were to take the afternoon train for Peking. While the trip to the Great
Wall and the Ming tombs is somewhat fatiguing, the interest is so great
as to reward one for the exertion.
We went our individual ways the last day in Peking, I to the Chinese
City in pursuit of a mandarin coat for a friend. After passing through
block after block in a chaotic condition, dirt and debris of all kinds
flung everywhere, I left the chair and walked quite a distance through
lane-like passages to the place designated, where I found that the
dealer had transferred all his embroideries to the hotel in which we
were staying, and that the said coat was probably in the collection I
had looked at the previous evening. Having devoted two hours to the
pursuit, I was somewhat discomfited. I then hurried to some of the
streets leading off from Beggars' Bridge, a place which is, as its name
suggests, the headquarters for beggars. Strange as it may seem, there is
a guild of beggars in Peking, with an acknowledged king; their
profession in the East is a fine art. There are interesting
thoroughfares leading out from this bridge,--one, a Curio Street, where
every conceivable article can be found, and the other, Bookseller
Street. This last was a disappointment, as I was told that rare editions
could be had; but through the interpreter, I learned that the conditions
of the city had been altered since the Boxer Rebellion in 1890. Indeed,
that fearful event was the cause of many changes in Peking and of great
suffering as well. The story of the conflict as related by an eyewitness
was very thrilling. Certain portions of the city at the present time
consist of naught but ruins, such as the foreign mission buildings and
the eastern and southern cathedrals, one of which was in process of
renovation. The Legation quarter has been mostly rebuilt.
[Illustration: _Emperor Yunglo's tomb_]
The cause of the Boxer Rebellion was everywhere given in Peking as
having been instigated by the Dowager Empress and her sympathizers. No
one can visit the city without receiving some definite impression of
this wonderful woman, who for years has dominated all other
authority--violating traditions considered sacred, and ruling with an
imperious hand. For the Emperor only sympathy was felt. Of a refined,
sensitive nature, but not strong physically, he seems to be a man of
intelligence and of broad ideas. This was shown in 1898, when he
announced that he intended to rule as other emperors did--to visit
throughout his Empire; he even projected a railway journey to Tientsin
in September, and planned many innovations. This was accomplished in
conjunction with a few kindred spirits belonging to the so-called Reform
Party in China.
Soon after, the Empress seemingly acquiesced in the plan of reform, and
announced that she too was interested in progress; but, whether sincere
or not, erelong the tables were turned; six of the Emperor's advisers
were beheaded, and the seventh, an intimate friend of the Emperor,
advised in time, left the country. Then the Empress had the Emperor
confined, and she was proclaimed his successor; but the open
intervention of the Allied Powers caused him to be returned to the
throne. It is said that for ten years he has been an invalid. Can any
one wonder, knowing the constant espionage and continual opposition to
which he has been subjected? After two years' contemplating of the
beauties of the court, Emperor Kwang Su was married, very much against
his will, however (preferring another), to the niece of the Dowager
Empress, the beautiful Yohonola; her photograph proves this to be a true
statement. For her has been reserved the sad fate of remaining
childless, and, in consequence, she is kept in the background and rarely
ever mentioned. Tsze Hsi An is really one of the most remarkable women
in the world's history. Of very humble origin, and uneducated, she, on
the birth of her son, became the reigning Emperor's wife of the second
rank. At his death and also at the death of her superior, she became
regent during the minority of her son, and on his death violated
traditions (the law prohibiting succession to one of the same generation
as the dead ruler), and had the nephew of the deceased Emperor
proclaimed, she reigning as regent until his majority and virtually
thereafter.
[Illustration: _Emperor Kwangsu of China_]
Since 1900 the Empress has shown a desire to meet ladies of other
nationalities in audience, and an American woman who had lived
thirty-five years in Japan and China told me that the only thing
required was an official endorsement by the Secretary of State (if
American). Her failing health, however, during the past year caused an
entire cessation of social courtesies. A woman of remarkably strong
character, dominant will, and unscrupulous as to methods, she is the
most perfect example, in juxtaposition, of the masculine woman, as the
Emperor is of the feminine man.
We observed many things about the Chinese of to-day that point to
progress, however slow. The schools, for instance, are modelled on a
much broader basis; there is more independence in journalism; Chinese
athletics are also coming into vogue, where they were formerly held in
contempt; Young Men's Christian Associations flourish in various places,
and fine work is being done by the many foreign missionary
organizations. I heard much comment made concerning the American
missions; their work along educational lines and in the way of hospitals
was specially commended. Even Li Hung Chang, though a Confucian,
testified to their value, as have other prominent Manchus. The mission
movement in general is being regarded as a great sociological force
which, though working slowly, tends to a higher condition of life.
All the signs of the times indicate that China and the United States are
destined some day to come into closer relations with each other
socially, intellectually and of course commercially, as self-interest is
a great factor in the furtherance of any attitude. One of the means to
this end is the Chinese student in American colleges and schools; the
number is, however, very much smaller than in England, while five
thousand men are entered in Japanese colleges and schools, on account of
the nearer proximity of Japan and consequently the less expense.
Mention is constantly being made of the Reform Party in China, and hints
at revolution are even heard. On this point it is well to quote an
extract from "China and America of To-day." The authority says: "The
Chinese people have no right to legislation; they have no right of
self-taxation. They have not the power of voting out their rulers, or of
limiting or stopping their supplies; they have therefore the right of
rebellion. Rebellion is, in China, the old, often exercised, legitimate,
and constitutional means of stopping arbitrary and vicious legislation
and administration." Will it be necessary to resort to revolution in
order to effect needed reforms? Time alone will determine.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _The Dowager Empress of China_]
TIENTSIN, _May 26th_: We left Peking in the morning, and reached
Tientsin at 11 A.M., going to the Imperial Hotel, where we were to
remain two days. After luncheon we took a drive, first to the native
city. There remains of the old walls and two fine gateways, which stand
as reminders of an historic past, are to be seen. The street groups and
bazars were similar to those observed in other cities, but far less
interesting than those in Peking. The native city is said to number from
six hundred thousand to a million persons; and yet, so extended and
complete is the ground covered by the different foreign concessions,
numbering less than four thousand persons, that they virtually represent
the Tientsin of to-day; the British concession alone sets the tone to
the city, with its fine business blocks. In Memorial Hall, dedicated to
General Gordon, the municipal offices of the concession are located. The
fine Public Garden is the centre, three times a week, of a military band
concert, which attracts a large attendance and makes a brilliant scene,
with its myriad electric lights. This feature of Tientsin life was
introduced long ago by Viceroy Li Hung Chang, early in his term of
office (1870-1891); and he is said to have paid for the instruction of
the first military band. The building of the Industrial Association is
popularly called "pigs in clover," and we learned from actual
experience that the name was truly applied, as we had to make the long
weary round before we could secure an exit.
On Victoria Road there are many private residences, and an imposing
English Club edifice in the midst of large and attractive grounds.
The morning of the second day was devoted to incidental things; in the
afternoon we attended a Chinese theatre which was similar to the one we
had seen in Hong-Kong, only actors, who were grotesque acrobats, now
took the place of the previous ballet-dancers. In the evening we
attended a fine concert in the Public Gardens. The music was furnished
by the Cameron Guards in Highland costume. It was a fine opportunity to
see the English contingent, and from the Astor House across the way came
ladies in evening dress; hats and wraps were also in evidence; and, in
the rear, were files of soldiers of various nations from the different
concessions.
* * * * *
SHANHAIKWAN, _May 29th_: The following morning, we left for Shanhaikwan;
we arrived in the evening, and went to a very comfortable railway hotel.
The following morning, we made an excursion to the mountains and caught
a glimpse of the Great Wall a long distance off; in one direction a
valley; beyond that, hills; then mountains extending tier after tier,
until the last faded away in the distant horizon. This wall is a
continuation of the one visited in Peking, and formerly ended at the
sea-line in Shanhaikwan, but the ravages of time and the devastation of
man have carried away much of it.
[Illustration: _Gordon Hall at Tientsin_]
[Illustration: _Old gateway of Tientsin_]
We had left our chairs at a small place, said to be a Taoist temple, and
had also passed the ruins of another temple, showing the isolated places
selected by the early fathers for their centres of worship. After
roaming about, we returned to the first temple, and around an improvised
table, in plain view of the altar, we were served with a substantial
luncheon brought from the hotel. Our return trip was over a different
route, in order to secure a finer view of the Wall, some ruined towers,
and parapets.
Later, we passed through two imposing gateways, and noted the great
thickness of the Wall which, broken off, showed a brick exterior filled
with earth. The way through the native town assured us of the usual
Chinese life and bazars, Shanhaikwan having only a small European
population. It was the scene of much activity during the Boxer
Rebellion, and the regiments of several nations had posts or forts
there, the English and Japanese even now continuing to maintain a small
body-guard. In the afternoon we took a ride in a diminutive horse-car on
a narrow-gauge road to the sea, four miles distant, where we found a
sandy beach and bathhouses. This is a favorite resort for the Summer
guests of the Shanhaikwan Hotel. Peitaho, which is situated back of
Shanhaikwan in the mountains, has a large Summer colony from Peking and
Tientsin, many of whom own their homes. At Shanhaikwan we had the
pleasure of meeting Judge and Mrs. Charles Smith of Manila, and listened
to many interesting experiences connected with life in the Philippines.
Shanhaikwan is on the border between China and Manchuria.
We had been in Manchuria all day with an uninteresting landscape as
regards variety,--plains, a few trees, and a little verdure stretched
far away. Much of the land, however, was tilled, it being Springtime in
this far-away country; and an occasional group of trees indicated what
time and irrigation may accomplish in the way of agricultural results.
At every station armed soldiers were on guard. Various theories were
advanced to account for this; one said that brigands infested the
country; another claimed that there might be danger of destruction to
the track, this being the Southern Japanese-Manchurian Railway, which
was running through an alien country. The right to this road and a strip
of land each side of the track was secured by Japan either by treaty or
by lease from China at the close of the Russian-Japanese war. Chan Chow
was the largest station passed. Hsin Min was the scene of a conflict
between the Russians and Japanese, and at the present time soldiers are
still stationed there.
* * * * *
MUKDEN, _May 30th_: Our next point to be visited was Mukden. The trip
was not in our original itinerary, and we had some difficulty in
securing it, as the Director felt that we could not obtain good hotel
accommodations. We all, however, promised to accept uncomplainingly any
condition which the situation offered. Nevertheless, we felt a little
anxious about the result, as we were the first tourist party to invade
Mukden, the capital of Manchuria, and also the old capital when it was
an independent country and not, as now, a province.
At the King-jo Hotel, under Japanese management, we found six rooms
furnished in supposed European style; these opened on upper and lower
galleries and were comfortable. They really formed an annex in order to
entice stray European guests. The entire household was Japanese, without
any knowledge of the English language, so pantomime became our means of
communication, and there were many amusing mistakes made on both sides.
The utmost good-humor prevailed, however, and the atmosphere of the
place was altogether pleasant.
The morning following our arrival, we rode in jinrikishas to the tomb of
a Ming emperor. There are two of these tombs located at Mukden. We
visited only one; it is four miles from the city, and beautifully
located in a parklike enclosure. We entered at the side, through a long
avenue of trees, the front entrance never being opened; there were two
tall columns with grotesque figures of animals on top; then a lion on
each side, seated on heavy pedestals. A three-arched pailow had a very
massive carved cornice and entablature; on the cornice and on each
division of the arch were seated immense carved lions; similar ones were
also on the reverse side of the arch and on the ends, making ten in all,
and adding to the impressiveness of the whole.
We now entered the sacred avenue, lined on each side with ten large
stone animals. The path was much shorter than that visited in Nankow,
and the carving of the animals was less perfect. The avenue ended with a
gateway of three arches, which we did not pass through, but which
contained a memorial tablet mounted on a huge tortoise; beyond this
there was a long oblong building with an effective terrace roof; doors
were placed in each corner of the walled enclosure. At the back rose an
immense mound which covers the tomb. From a high tower overlooking the
mound, we had a view of the entire enclosure.
[Illustration: _The Temple at Mukden_]
The palace at Mukden is a large, imposing pile, built in 1631. There are
many different buildings, all in the peculiar Chinese style with
upturned eaves; these were barricaded while renovation was going on,
and we could obtain glimpses of the interior only through cracks in the
wall. The rooms were large and contained some wall decoration, while the
whole effect was fine, in spite of all the inconveniences experienced in
trying to see them; debris was everywhere. In one building the doors and
windows were sealed with paper strips placed over them; this was the
receptacle for valuable jewels and fine brocaded robes of royalty. We
were first refused admission, but, on our return from the rounds of the
palace, by some magical process (probably a large fee), a door was
opened, and we entered and saw a wonderful display of rich gems,
somewhat barbaric in style, fine swords, daggers, robes, and other
paraphernalia.
The bazars in Mukden were not unlike those throughout China in their
arrangement, but containing not nearly so attractive a display of goods.
The population seemed mixed, judging from the type of faces and from the
head-dress of the women, some of them having the plain, smooth
arrangement of the hair, while others followed the peculiar Manchu
style. Mukden owes its present celebrity to the Russian-Japanese war, as
several battles were fought around it.
* * * * *
_June 1st_: The following day, we took our departure for Niuchwang. We
had been told that our route would be over historic battlegrounds, and
we soon realized this, for, after leaving Mukden, we saw the monument
erected by the Japanese Government as a memorial to the memory of the
Japanese soldiers who fell in a desperate engagement, March 13th, 1905.
This was the battle of Shio-ho, one of the worst of the war. General
Kuropatkin headed the Russians, while Generals Kuroki and Nogi were on
the Japanese side. The Russians were vanquished and were forced to
retreat to Karpan. Later we came to a large place, formerly a Russian
city, Lara-yang, which was taken by the Japanese, and now seems in a
prosperous condition. A large rocky mountain, passed later on, was the
scene of a desperate attempt of the Japanese to dislodge the Russians,
and here eight thousand of the former lost their lives. At one point a
tall granite monument was raised to the memory of ten thousand Japanese
soldiers, all of which gave us a realizing sense of the horrors of the
conflict. Later, these warlike reminders ceased, and the landscape
showed broad, well-cultivated fields; indeed, the Manchuria of to-day,
as far as we could determine, seems a fertile plain; and while a coarser
cereal is now raised, it seemed possible that this might become a great
wheat-producing land with proper cultivation.
* * * * *
NIUCHWANG: When near Niuchwang, we came to the city of Shai-seng, and
saw the long lines of Russian barracks which are now occupied by the
Japanese. We reached our destination late in the evening, and had a
jinrikisha ride of over an hour before turning to the Central Hotel,
which had been greatly damaged by fire, but which we persuaded our
Director to select for us. Our surroundings were not luxurious, but a
fairly good dinner awaited us.
In the morning we had a delightful surprise. A call of the Director at
the English Club the evening previous had resulted in an invitation
extended to the entire party to breakfast at the residence of Mr. Henry
A. Bush, of Bush Brothers, a noted firm in the East. Never was an
invitation more gladly accepted. The mistress of the household was
absent, but Mr. Bush, aided by friends, did the honors to perfection. It
was a lovely home and full of good cheer. Two hours later we were sent
to the station in carriages, and escorted to a junction, nine miles
away, by a relative of the family. We learned afterward that this
courtesy was often extended to tourists since the burning of the hotel.
I am happy to state that both at Mukden and Niuchwang modern hotels will
be opened at an early date, both being named the Astor House, a favorite
appellation all through the East.
* * * * *
DALNY: The ride to Dalny (the Japanese wish it called Darien) ended at
nine in the evening; the scenery _en route_ was not unlike that of the
day previous, except that we observed a higher degree of cultivation,
and the plains were more extended, terminating in the distance in low
ranges of hills. We found Dalny modern in appearance, save in a few
large buildings which showed their early origin; the Russians had
planned the place as a model city before the war, which in time might
become a flourishing adjunct to Port Arthur. The city was evacuated
before the siege of Port Arthur, the Russians concentrating all their
strength at the latter point. Dalny is a port of some importance, but we
were told there was little local business to speak of. Tourists are
beginning to go there, as it is a convenient point to remain if one
wishes to visit Port Arthur, which is a long day's excursion, leaving
early in the morning and returning on an evening train. This has,
heretofore, been the customary plan of procedure, owing to superior
hotel facilities at Dalny; but a new hotel was nearly completed at Port
Arthur when we were there.
[Illustration: _Dalny_]
* * * * *
PORT ARTHUR, _June 4th_: We left early for a hard day's excursion to
Port Arthur. The standpoint of the tourist is that of interest and
curiosity to see the port which was so recently the scene of such
tragic events. With military knowledge, the interest would be more in
observing the strategic position and the methods of defence. Before
speaking of the incidents of the day, a brief outline of Port Arthur
will be given as a key to the situation. A view of the place from the
sea is disappointing, as the hills that circle around the bay are bare
and destitute of vegetation and foliage. The foothills of a long
mountain range divide the peninsula of Liao-tung (the circle of the
hills extending over ten miles); several bays also indent the shore.
Viewed from the land side, the town and port lie in an amphitheatre,
hidden from the sea by Golden Hill on one side and by the Tiger's Tail
Peninsula on the other. This strong position was fortified by the
Russians in the newest way.
The defence works are divided into coast and inland groups. The coast
section is the Golden Hill position, which stands at the left side of
the entrance to the harbor and commands the outer bay. From this hill,
toward the sea and to the north, making a semicircle, the line of
fortifications extends three miles, including many permanent works; the
first of these is called the Silver Hill group, and there are several
lines lying east and north of this. That group of forts on the left side
is named the Tiger's Tail Peninsula, and is as strong as Golden Hill on
the opposite side. The sea just outside of Tiger's Tail was the place
where the Japanese fleet attacked the Russian squadron at anchor.
Because of the vast strength of each of these two opposite points, and
their close communication and support, they have been considered the
strongest fortresses ever yet invested.
The city of Port Arthur is divided by Monument Hill into two parts, Old
or East Town, and New or West Town. The old town is the real Port
Arthur; the new one was formerly a Chinese hamlet, called
Tai-yo-ko,--the Russians building this section after its occupation. The
old is a business town; the new an official town. Here we have the
contrast of a European centre on one side with a Chinese on the other.
In the old town are situated the Port Admiralty, Navy Yard, Army
Hospital, Red Cross Hospital, Museum, and Fortress Office, formerly
General Stoessel's house. In the new town are the Governor General's
office and some civil administration buildings, a park, and numberless
residences.
On our arrival at Port Arthur, we took carriages, and, after securing a
permit, went to the Siege Museum, which is filled with the trophies of
war, and models of some of the forts that were taken; we examined these
carefully in order the better to understand the methods employed by the
Japanese in storming fortifications; tunnelling was the way in which
the North Fort was taken. The Siege Museum was interesting from another
point, as it had been the mess-house of the Russian officers of the
garrison, and the walls were covered with views of the Crimean and other
wars; there was also a large collection of pictures of Russian generals.
[Illustration: _Port Arthur before the siege_]
We then had a long drive to Monument Hill, which is situated between the
old and the new town near the railway station. It is a high point,
commanding the harbor and the forts, and one can obtain a bird's-eye
view of Port Arthur from its top. On account of its advantageous
position, General Nogi and Admiral Togo chose the hill for the mausoleum
and monument which are built in memory of those who lost their lives.
There are two peaks; the mausoleum is situated on one, the monument on
the other. The monument, two hundred feet high, was in process of
construction when we saw it; stones raised from the sunken ships formed
the principal material in building it. On the opposite peak, with a
torii in front, as an indication of the Shinto faith, is the mausoleum,
where the remains of 22,183 officers and soldiers have been buried with
formal ceremonies. It is impossible to convey an idea of the
impressiveness of the scene as we stood on this hill, gazing out on a
landscape significant of war and carnage on every side.
After luncheon at the almost completed new hotel, we had the roughest
ride I have ever taken--a long distance to the outskirts in order to
view some of the ruined forts--first, to East Keekwan, the name of a
group of defence works. The main fort here was so well defended that it
was considered unassailable from any direction; it was also very
strongly protected. The assault began on the 18th of August; there was
very stubborn resistance, and many attacks were necessary before General
Stoessel, on January 1st, proposed to surrender. As the Russians
retreated, however, they blew the fort up with dynamite. A scene of
desolation greeted us in consequence, and it was almost impossible to
walk across the debris.
We next visited another prominent work belonging to this group, called
North Fort, the one we had studied at the Museum in the morning, with
its intricate system of tunnels. These latter represented two shafts,
three feet high and two feet wide, each forty feet long with four
trenches; eight mines had been laid, and these were exploded on the 18th
of December, blowing away the rampart in the northeast and seriously
damaging the interior. A desperate resistance followed, but the Russians
finally retreated, destroying a part of the fort before they left. We
also saw other defences, but had no time to study them, as a long rough
drive ensued, in order to reach 203-Metre Hill, the scene of the last
engagement.
[Illustration: _Tiger-Tail Promontory and Port Arthur during the
conflict_]
203-Metre Hill is the highest eminence of the whole fortified line,
about two and one-half miles from the new town. It commands the whole
western harbor, and most of the eastern, and from the top can be seen
all the fortified positions, including camps and trenches. The
occupation of this hill was the death-blow to the Russians, and it has
been called the key to Port Arthur. It was very strongly fortified, and
the work of occupation was a fearful task, involving a great loss of
life. Early in September the attack began, and it was taken early in
December; the Japanese loss in dead and wounded was 7578, and after the
capitulation of Port Arthur, the Russian remains were collected and
buried to the number of 5400; the real count was supposed to be more
than 7000. The possession of this hill by the Japanese sounded the
death-knell of the Russian fleet, which was practically wiped out of
existence on the 9th of December. We regretted not being able to visit
Port Arthur the following week, when a most interesting occasion was to
occur,--the dedication of the fine monument erected by the Japanese
Government to the memory of the Russian soldiers who are buried there. I
saw photographs of the monument, but could not procure one, as they were
not then for sale. The moral significance of this event was very great,
as the Russians, officially and non-officially, accepted the gift with
grateful appreciation.
A friend sent me an account of the exercises at Port Arthur which
occurred on June 10th. The Russian Archbishop and a number of high
military officials came from Russia, and General Nogi and other Japanese
officials from Japan. There were formal exercises of a varied kind. The
chief feature was the address delivered by the Archbishop. He opened by
saying "that only by the brave can the brave be appreciated. In this
world of ours war seems to be unavoidable; at the same time it evokes
and gives occasion for expressing some of the finest feelings of which
human nature is capable. The many thousands of men who lie sleeping
under the monument just unveiled were heroes who loyally and bravely
laid down their lives in their country's cause. Such men are best
appreciated by men of their own stamp; and the noble action of the
Japanese in erecting this monument to the memory of their fallen foes
showed that the best feelings of which human nature is capable rise
superior even to the most tragic incidents of life. In performing this
beautiful deed, the Japanese had not only shown themselves worthy of
wearing the laurels which they had won, but had also gained a second
victory even more prolonged and enduring. Amid all the horrors of war,
humanity must not forget the opportunities it furnishes for the display
of such traits." The Tokio and other Japanese papers devoted much space
to accounts of the ceremonies and festivities connected with the
unveiling of the monument. Some of them seemed to regard it as an
emotional display, and others found it impossible to read the accounts
without concluding that the Japanese and Russians had wellnigh, if not
altogether, laid aside their feeling of mutual hostility.
[Illustration: _203-Metre Hill, Port Arthur--The last point to be
taken_]
An English gentleman on the train to Dalny spoke of General Stoessel's
surrender in very caustic terms, basing his position on information
received from one of the officers on the General's staff. It occurred to
me that the officer would not be likely to give favorable testimony, as
there was a possibility of his also suffering penalties in Russia. It
will always be a mooted question whether the surrender was justified by
the condition of affairs at Port Arthur; certainly it was in the
interest of humanity, as it was stated on Japanese authority that there
were at least twenty-five thousand sick at Port Arthur.
On the following morning, we left Dalny, or Darien, by the steamer
_Santo Maru_, for Chemulpo, the port of Seoul, Korea.
* * * * *
CHEMULPO, SEOUL, _June 7th_: Chemulpo is an open port and has quite a
foreign settlement; it now can boast of wide streets and some shops,
but twenty years ago it was nothing more than a fishing village. The
Trans-Siberian Railway is the only means of connection between Chemulpo
and London, twenty-one days being required for the trip. The two hours'
railway ride between Chemulpo and Seoul affords quite diversified
scenery.
The situation of Seoul is beautiful. It is a walled city, the entire
circumference of which is twelve miles, and in this wall are eight
arched gateways. While the wall itself is not high, it seems to cling
near to the sides of the foothills and the mountains. These mountains
are quite bare of vegetation, but the little valleys between the hills
are green, rice being one of the products cultivated.
Korea to us was mostly Seoul, as there is no provision for guests at
present in the mountains. We met a gentleman and his two daughters who
were going to the mountains, but they were to be entertained by a
missionary family; in time this condition of affairs will no doubt be
improved, as it is in Java.
Korea is a land of great beauty. The inhabitants are lovers of nature,
as is shown in the names they give to their mountains and valleys, such
as The Mountain Fronting the Moon, The Mountain Facing the Sun, The
Valley of Cool Shade, The Tranquil Sea, and The Hill of White Clouds.
The descriptions of the mountains in the extreme North are more peculiar
still: The Peak of the Thousand Buddhas, The Cloud Touchers, and the
like.
[Illustration: _The city wall and gate of Seoul_]
The people of Korea, as they are viewed on the streets, seem to be
contented, with apparently a larger leisure class than we had seen in
any previous city. This was emphasized by the dress of the men,
consisting of a long white costume open in front, made of a kind of
grass lawn; a pair of loose trousers, something like the Turkish
trousers, is worn beneath this. Officials, ministers, and noblemen dress
elegantly, their costumes being made from the finest silk lawn, and they
wear silken girdles.
The dress of middle-class women is even more peculiar than that of the
men. The upper garment is very short, made of white or green lawn or
calico; a few inches below this is a petticoat, touching the ground;
between these two garments there is nothing but the bare skin. It is not
an agreeable spectacle. When on the street, they wear what is called the
chang-ot; it consists of a long white or green cloak, with green cuffs
and collar, cut like a sack. The neck of this garment is put over the
head, and the long white sleeves fall from the ears and are seen
flapping in the wind.
The single or married man may be known by the style of his hair. The
single man wears a cue, but when married it is done up in a twist and
kept in place by a woven horsehair band. We saw a few who had cut their
hair. The women dress their hair rather plainly on the sides, and do it
low on their necks in the back.
The women of the better class lead very secluded lives, almost like the
Zenana; indeed, their customs seem similar to those in India. The
children up to a certain age are seen in a state of entire nudity.
The girls of the lower class are sold as domestic slaves, and may be
seen running beside the chairs of their mistresses. They look, however,
as though they were kindly treated.
The Seoul scenes at night are most peculiar. The women of the upper
class are allowed to take exercise only at this time. Men formerly were
excluded from the streets at night, but now are seen. Some one has
compared this nocturnal city graphically with the old idea of the
resurrection. Many of the men are supported by the labor of the women of
their household. The laundry work of a family in Seoul must be very
considerable on account of the number of white garments worn.
A Korean lady travelling in her sedan chair is quite an imposing
spectacle. The chairs are somewhat heavier than those we had previously
seen.
[Illustration: _A group of Koreans_]
The dress of the dancing-girl is many-colored, worn with a profusion of
sashes and decorations. The head-dress is about three times as high as
that worn by a Manchu woman. The costume consists of a white flowing
under-robe, and over this a colored silk robe. There are very large
sleeves and a sash worn high on the waist. The robe falls apart in front
and shows loose trousers. The dancing-girl and the singing-girl
correspond to the geisha and Maiko of Japan.
Sight-seeing in Seoul is less exhausting than in other cities, as there
are no galleries, museums, or elaborate tombs to be described. The
interest in the city is found amongst its street scenes and in the
peculiar life of its people.
Seoul spreads out over a plain, which extends to the mountains. There is
quite a variety of scenery included within its area. The country near by
is extremely picturesque, quite unlike the outskirts of Peking. There
are small villages and pleasant walks and drives at an easy distance
from the city.
The bazars are placed far out on the street, except in one point where
there seems to be only one central bazar.
The manufacture of brass is the specialty of Seoul; all the ancient
forms are reproduced. Some of our party purchased large collections of
artistic and serviceable articles.
The most imposing building is the Temple of Heaven. It is bare, compared
with the one at Peking, but it has some features that are similar and
is made of marble. It is, however, a combination of the two temples seen
in Peking, opening at the side, and having an open roof over the centre;
adjoining it there is a three-story pagoda, much like a pavilion in many
respects.
The ancient tomb of the old Korean noblemen interested us. It is of
marble, with a peculiar carving on top. At the base is an immense
tortoise.
The Buddhist temple was also visited. This had an imposing entrance
approached by white marble steps. It was spacious, but architecturally
far inferior to those we had seen elsewhere. The upturned roof was
interesting.
The marble pagoda, rising seven stories above the base, was really very
beautiful. It had a special small enclosure about it, filled with
flowers. This enclosure was in a large park, which contained an artistic
pavilion, evidently for the convenience of people who wished to view the
pagoda.
There are said to be eighteen palaces in Seoul. Some of these at present
are not in use. We passed the new marble palace where the Emperor was
staying. Then we went on to the large old palace which has been vacant
ever since the assassination of the Queen. There were imposing entrance
gates here, and many preliminary buildings before we reached the most
important ones. The Audience Hall is very spacious and very well
proportioned. The approach to it is fine, consisting of many marble
seats where the high officials sat when his Majesty appeared. From the
exterior the Audience Hall seems to have two stories, as there are two
of the peculiar Chinese roofs, but inside it forms one very high room.
The Audience Hall as a building is a great decorative feature in the
palace grounds. There is one other large room in it called, I believe,
the Hall of Congratulation.
[Illustration: _An old tomb of a high official_]
We passed on to the palace of the assassinated Queen. This has now been
torn down by order of the Resident General, on account of its unpleasant
association both to the Koreans and to the Japanese. It originally
covered a good deal of ground and must have been spacious. The grounds
are very large and interesting, containing many lovely trees. One
building therein was raised like an immense pavilion and surrounded by a
miniature lake, very pleasing with its setting of green and at times
covered with water-lilies.
Quite a pretentious building, with its wide projecting Chinese eaves
open on all sides and showing columns, was the one which contained the
monument erected in honor of the Emperor's jubilee.
A picturesque feature of the city consists of the gates of the Wall. We
took drives through these to different points near by. Particularly
noticeable is the Western Gate, or Gate of General Righteousness. This
is massive, showing the thickness of the wall, and the high roof over
the arch is very effective.
All the hills around Korea are considered sacred and are dedicated to
burial purposes. In one alone, seventy-five thousand persons are placed.
The drive presents very diversified scenery. As we approached the tomb
of the Queen, considerable formality was required. It was necessary to
possess a permit, soldiers being stationed outside the grounds. The hill
was very broad and quite steep at places, and on top the large tomb was
composed of marble. We could have visited several others, but preferred
to return home by the way of an old Buddhist monastery, a great part of
the road being lined with trees on either side. We found the monastery
rather dismantled and but few monks in attendance. They have to endure
many privations, and their surroundings looked extremely bare.
After this excursion, we ended the day by attending the Korean Theatre.
The ride there was interesting, as we saw all the particular evening
sights I have described. The arrangement of the room was very simple; we
sat in elevated boxes at the sides. About the stage all the details were
primitive. The action of the play was poor, but the enthusiasm of the
audience was great. We remained but a short time.
[Illustration: _A white marble pagoda in Seoul_]
In the matter of education the women of the higher class are somewhat
above the average, but those of the middle and lower classes are
entirely ignorant. Education is one of the many recent reforms
instituted; the old order of things is rapidly being changed.
Electricity has been introduced, electric trams extend some distances
even into the country, and there is a good postal service. A gentleman
who had been a resident for some fifteen years is my authority for
stating that in his opinion the mistake the Japanese were making in
their protectorate was in pushing reforms too rapidly. The Koreans are
slow in their response to foreign and western ideas.
The deposed King seems to be of a peculiar type. He is described as
having a weakness for intrigue, his early education having been received
under conditions that foster such qualities. He was married at thirteen
years of age to the late Queen; she was said to be unusually gifted, and
an attractive woman, even though unscrupulous and at times cruel.
There are many opinions regarding the immediate outcome of Japan's
protectorate over Korea. Those who have faith in the integrity of
Marquis Ito believe in good results; others fear that the invasion of a
large number of Japanese having business interests will rather
overshadow the Koreans, who are indolent and inclined to take their
ease. On this subject there can be only conjecture; time will decide.
An interesting book, "In Korea with Marquis Ito," which has been
published during the year, deals with this question fully; George
Trumbull Ladd is the author.
Looking backward, we find that the kings of Korea were the vassals of
China for a long period, but as one of the results of the
Chinese-Japanese war, there was a complete renunciation of the authority
of the Emperor of China. Hence it seems strange that at the close of the
Russian-Japanese war another important change and crisis should have
come to Korea.
* * * * *
FROM SEOUL, KOREA, TO YOKOHAMA: We left Seoul at eight on the morning of
June 9th for Fusan, and the railway journey, an all-day trip, was a
fatiguing one, owing to the dust; but we had glimpses of mountain
scenery and plains. Fusan was simply a point of departure for Japan. We
took our steamer, _Satsuma-maru_, at six that evening for the night
only, as we were due at Shimonoseki early the next morning. The approach
here was through the straits, and was unlike any previous view,--a wide
entrance between two high promontories, with mountains on either side.
[Illustration: _Street scene in Seoul_]
Shimonoseki is quite an important point commercially, but our stay was,
as I say, one of convenience only, since we took the train at 9.30 for
Miyajima and the Sacred Island. This is considered the finest railway
trip in Japan as regards scenery, and our exclamations of delight were
many, for there were mountains covered with verdure and rice-fields, and
from time to time glimpses of the famed Inland Sea. We had long
anticipated this visit to the Sacred Island; we knew Miyajima had a
population of three thousand, and was a fishing village, aside from the
great interest which attaches to the temples; that the island rose
eighteen hundred feet above the sea and was rocky, although covered with
heavy foliage; but I was unprepared for the unique charm that awaited
us.
The approach to Miyajima, as we crossed the lake, gave us a fine first
impression,--the great torii standing boldly forth from its watery base;
the stone lanterns in the foreground; the temple seen dimly through the
green; and the thickly wooded hills in the background all added greatly
to the landscape. At our right, on an eminence, was situated the Mikado
Hotel, which was to shelter us, and which we later found to be an ideal
abiding-place.
We proceeded at once to the great temple, which, with its corridors and
galleries, six hundred feet long, represented something distinctively
unique. One line of galleries extends out into the water at high tide,
and stretches out like so many arms in various directions; a new series
is being constructed. All of these intricate passages centre in the
great temple, large and finely proportioned, but, like all Shinto
buildings, comparatively simple as regards adornment. As we approached,
we were confronted by at least twenty-five priests and ten
dancing-girls, who were grouped together for a photograph; the priests'
robes and the many-colored dresses of the girls produced a striking
effect, as they sat on a platform in front of the temple. Later the
girls went through several of the so-called "holy dances"; we were not
permitted to enter the temple.
Passing through a long corridor, we next ascended a hill and visited the
unique Temple of a Thousand Mats. This is grim with age but of immense
proportions, and having many rows of columns, covered from base to
capital with small wooden mats shaped somewhat like butter ladles, each
one of which is inscribed with the name and residence of the donor; the
ladles are on sale at the temple. Not only the pillars, but every
available place in the temple, is thus utilized, producing a very
grotesque effect. The plan consists in each person writing his name,
residence, and some sentiment on these mats; it originated after the
Chinese-Japanese war in 1894, when pilgrims came to visit the temple and
thus paid tribute to it.
[Illustration: _Torii Miyajima_]
Near the temple there is an imposing pagoda, also of ancient date, and
on an adjacent knoll another shrine. Returning to the hotel, we noted
many more stone lanterns, and still another temple with its attendant
torii. We also passed through the lane-like streets of the village,
thickly lined with bazars; the shops were filled with many tasteful
articles, carved wood being a specialty in Miyajima. These shops
reminded us of Switzerland, as did the heights, a portion of which is
covered with an attractive park.
After dinner, we regretfully bade adieu to the members of the
Trans-Siberian party, leaving only Miss M---- and myself to return to
Yokohama. To speed them across the lake, their guide had arranged for an
illumination, produced by lighting candles in many of the tall stone
lanterns; this we also enjoyed, our guide taking us out on the lake in a
sampan; and as we rode toward the great torii it seemed to assume
immense proportions, while the effect of the lanterns was magical. It
was indeed a fairylike scene.
We were called at four the following morning, breakfasted at five, and
were on our steamer before six for the trip to Onomichi on the Inland
Sea. The island was lovely as we left in the early light; and the whole
landscape, from the towering mountain in the distance, the lesser ones
sloping down to the plateau, to the sea, scintillated in brilliant
color; even the great stone lanterns that were so unique the evening
previous now stood out in bold relief, and the old torii was statelier
than ever. As the little village and shore line faded away, we wished an
artist could have caught the view. We sailed out into the finest part of
the Inland Sea, where the shore was deeply indented with rocky
promontories, which first ended in a high projection to our right; to
the left was a continuous line of low islands. A wide extent of open sea
was the next scene in the panorama, to be succeeded by a picturesque
island, clad in verdure; then two small, boldly defined, rocky islands;
next a low range of five islands slightly connected, seeming like a tiny
range in mid-ocean; a higher chain of islands was crenellated and
presented the appearance of being scooped out and showing a light yellow
soil. The scene now narrowed, and the mountains on either side showed
signs of cultivation, the terraces running almost to the top. The guide
told us that barley was the principal cereal raised. A marvellous island
to our left now presented itself; this had a high, rocky base, from
which seemingly sprang a miniature forest, the tall towering evergreens
lending a fringelike appearance near the skyline. And so the panorama
continued with ever-increasing variety.
[Illustration: _Stone lanterns, Miyajima_]
We paused at Ujima, the port of Hiroshima, where perhaps is located the
most wonderful garden in Japan. Ujima is a place of twelve thousand
inhabitants, and the taking on of cargo consumed an hour. Soon after, we
came to an island which had been transformed into a magazine; the side
presented to us was a solid wall of rock. This was the precursor to our
arrival at Kore, the most important naval station in Japan. The steamer
touched anchor, which gave us an opportunity to note the many
war-vessels in the harbor, three of which had been captured from the
Russians.
Our next point for landing passengers was Tukehare, in the narrowest
part of the Inland Sea, with the Pass of Oudo in Sato-See. Here
something unexpected occurred, as the steamer ran aground; and, after
persistent efforts to effect our release, a naval craft came to our
assistance and had to tow the steamer through.
The scene now widened so that the shore seemed distant; this gave leeway
for shipping of various kinds, large and small, and at one time I
counted forty-five craft around us. Small sampans with three or four
sails predominated. Our interest now centred not so much on shore as on
boldly defined islands that occasionally came into view. In another
place there were five promontories apparently in a direct line,--the
first, dark green; the next, pale green; the next, brown in tint; the
next, rocky; the fifth, foliage,--a veritable poem in color. We stopped
for passengers three times before reaching our destination.
Our lovely trip on the Inland Sea ended at the little port of Onomichi,
where, you will remember, we passed the night at a Japanese inn. We left
at once, and visited some of the temples for which Onomichi is famous.
We first went to a very old Buddhist place with an equally ancient
pagoda, Sinkokuji; this was at quite a height above the street, and was
in decay. Interest centred chiefly in the Senkiji Temple, rudely formed
of huge blocks of granite which seem to spring from the soil; to reach
this, we climbed a succession of tiers of stairs, each landing affording
an extended view of the hamlet. The shrine and the details of this
rock-bound temple were very simple, but there was a weird impressiveness
about it.
At five we took the train for Kobe, arriving there at nine, this time
staying at the Mikado Hotel. Having been there twice before, the visit
was simply in order to break the trip to Yokohama; so a jinrikisha ride
and a visit to a few shops the morning following sufficed in the
sight-seeing line; and in the evening we took the night train for
Yokohama, arriving there early on the morning of June 12th. Yokohama was
to be our headquarters until the homeward sailing, June 29th.
[Illustration: _Islands of the Inland Sea_]
I have before spoken of the beauty of the bay and the fine location of
the city. The heights reminded me of Hong-Kong; but on this third visit
the scene seemed to have gained new interest, for all Nature was in her
Summer dress, and the streets and parks teemed with life. There were
many jinrikisha rides and much general enjoyment during the two weeks
and a half that followed. Yokohama is a modern city and not famed for
sight-seeing particularly, aside from the shops, which are of great
interest and are filled with beautiful things; the curios, silks, and
embroideries were very enticing, and, as dressmaking can be done well
and economically by many of the Chinese tailors, some time is devoted
even by tourists to that.
Moto-machi Temple is of interest, heading the little shopping street of
that name, which, with Benten-dori divides the interest as regards small
but well-equipped native stores. The temple is Buddhist.
Nogeshima is a hill from which an extended view of the city and harbor
may be enjoyed. With cherry blossoms in May, great fields of
many-colored iris marked the month of June, and an expedition to such a
field proved attractive. The ride around Mississippi Bay is possibly the
greatest trip for an afternoon's excursion. A picturesque feature of the
city is the one hundred steps leading to the heights, on the top of
which is a tea-house, largely frequented by residents. The many
pleasant homes and churches make the heights very attractive, and one
morning we extended our jinrikisha ride to the outskirts so as to visit
the gardens and greenhouses of a young Japanese who supplies the hotel
with peculiar dwarfed plants for the dining-room tables. We saw some
maples and cedars twelve inches in height and fifteen years old.
The park, attractive at any time, is especially interesting in May on
account of the cherry blossoms. It must be remembered that Yokohama was
only a fishing village when Commodore Perry anchored there in 1854; it
was not the treaty port until 1858, and from that time begins its
commercial importance. The greatest portion of the city as it now exists
dates from after the fire of 1866, and the bluff on which most of the
residents have their dwellings was first leased for building purposes in
1867; since then a large native town has sprung up outside the foreign
settlement.
The principal excursion from Yokohama is to Kamakura, about one hour's
ride by train. It was once the capital of Japan, from the end of the
twelfth to the fifteenth century, numbering over one million
inhabitants; but it now affords no indication of its former glory; it is
only a little seaside village to-day, and its principal interests are
the great Dai-butzu, or Buddha, and certain other temples; the Buddha is
renowned among Japanese works of art. We took a jinrikisha from the
station, and first visited the Temple of Hachiman, which occupies a high
position on a hill and is reached through an avenue of pine trees. We
passed through three stone toriis before reaching the temple, which
stands at the head of a broad flight of stone steps.
[Illustration: _Mississippi Bay_]
The perspective when approaching the gigantic Buddha is fine, and gives
one, at a distance even, the impression of great majesty. This work
dates from about 1252 A.D. It was originally enclosed in a building,
fifty yards square, whose roof was supported on sixty-three massive
wooden pillars. The temple buildings were twice destroyed by tidal
waves, since which they have not been re-erected, and the image has
therefore been exposed to the elements. Within the statue is a large
room. As we approached the great bronze Buddha, we realized an
indefinable, spiritual significance; it stands over forty-nine feet high
and ninety-seven feet in circumference, but appears serene, seemingly in
the attainment of absolute peace after having reached the Nirvana.
The Temple of Kwannon is not far from the Dai-butzu, on an eminence,
commanding a beautiful view of the seashore and the plain. We had
luncheon at a pretty seaside hotel, Kamakura now being a Summer resort.
Afterwards we took a tram for the Sacred Island of Enoshima. Arriving
at the village of Katse, we walked across to the island. Enoshima
presents a high wooded aspect, and through the foliage on the heights
one can obtain glimpses of many tea-houses. From the earliest ages the
island was sacred to Benten, the Buddhist goddess of love. Nearly all of
the temples are dedicated to Shinto goddesses. The most sacred spot is a
cave on the far side of the island, one hundred and twenty-four yards in
depth, the height at the entrance being at least thirty feet.
We next took the train for Yumoto, the point of departure by jinrikisha
for Miyanoshita.
The train ride to Yumoto was most unusual, as the line lay through a
succession of small villages, the road sometimes being so narrow that we
could see into the homes or look into shop windows as we went through a
business street. At Yumoto we took a jinrikisha for the ascent to
Miyanoshita; the route was picturesque. To the left were mountains, the
rocky sides sometimes projecting over the roadway, and giving me the
sensation of imminent danger.
[Illustration: _View of Miyanoshita_]
To the right, far below, was a long extended valley through which poured
a mountain stream, the murmur of which was a continual refrain. On the
other side of the valley was a towering range of mountains. The whole
scene affects one in a peculiarly subtle way; there is a sensation of
being withdrawn from the actual experiences, of living in a new and
far-away world. Suddenly the road diverged, and we had mountains on
either side; another turn, and on a tree was a signboard, "Durkee's
Scotch Whiskey." Instantly the "supreme moment" vanished, and I was
again in my home city, and one of a band of women battling "the
bill-board nuisance." I was rebellious at thus being despoiled of my
poetic mood and tried to regain lost ground, but erelong another turn
and Durkee's Scotch Whiskey again appeared! Sadly I resigned myself to
fate and awaited our arrival at the Fujira Hotel.
It was dark when we reached the little village and went still farther up
the slope to where the lights were gleaming from the circling,
four-divisioned hostelry.
As I entered the spacious hall and caught glimpses of the adjacent
apartments, then went upward to my own dainty room furnished in European
style, I felt a sense of relief. Two little maids appeared to offer
service, a pretty kimono and slippers suggested comfort, and I was
content! Descending to the dining-room a little later, I met an English
lady and her brother, who had been steamer and hotel companions several
times, and this furnished more good cheer.
The following morning, I joined an early party for the excursion to Lake
Hakone. It was a glorious day and promised well for the hoped-for view
of Mt. Fujiyama, 12,000 feet above the sea.
The way is too rough and mountainous to be taken other than in a sedan
chair. At first we had lovely mountain scenery, then the road grew
wilder and mountain gorges appeared on either hand, then in one place
there were far distant mountains, a nearer range almost sloping to our
pathway. Sometimes the ascent was so steep and the path so narrow that
it required much holding on to retain the seat in the chair.
This was even more difficult when we began to make our descent to the
village, which is, however, 2378 feet above the sea (Miyanoshita is 1377
feet). The little Japanese tea-house where we tarried and had our
luncheon is finely located close to the shore of Lake Hakone, a
beautiful body of water with wooded shores. This lake is popular for
boating and bathing.
From the window we looked out on the distant sacred mountain, Fujiyama,
which is revered by all Japan. Sometimes the clouds rested lovingly on
its crest, and sometimes almost veiled it, but twice we saw the entire
snow-covered space and no adjective can describe the matchless glory of
that view. Poets have sung of it, and legend has woven fantastic tales
around it, which the natives accept without a doubt.
Mt. Fugii is the scene in Summer of constant visitations--about forty
thousand pilgrims appearing there yearly, mostly of the working-class.
Before the sixteenth century the mountain was in a constant state of
eruption, the last great activity occurring at the beginning of the
eighteenth century.
The ride across the lake is pleasant,--the castle an interesting
feature,--and by taking it, one discovers a different way to return to
Miyanoshita, but I preferred the route of the morning, as the reverse
views are always reinforcingly interesting.
There were pleasant short walks from our hotel and many very easy
excursions, so one naturally lingers, as long as possible. The friends I
alluded to had been there two weeks. I left with regret.
The third morning we started out in a pouring rain, and so had a closed
jinrikisha; if we missed the beauty of the scenery in our descent to
Yumoto, we took comfort in the fact that we escaped the "bill-board"!
Arriving at Yokohama, I found a whole bevy of friends at the hotel
awaiting the departure of the next steamer for San Francisco. We had all
met at different places, once, twice, or thrice, and thus pleasant
reminiscences and sociability now prevailed. Three were to leave on the
_Korea_, scheduled to sail on June 29th, which augured well for my
homeward passage.
I had intended returning to Tokio, but, remembering each detail of my
former visit vividly, I decided instead to try to see Tokio through
others' eyes. The Emperor and Empress are spoken of with the utmost
respect, the Emperor being progressive in public and political ideas.
The Empress is said to have a fine mind and to be accomplished; in
matters of social importance she has been instrumental in breaking down
many barriers; and while we needs must regret the adoption of Parisian
modes of dress by the court, we must remember it was done with the
distinct purpose of harmonizing the customs of the Orient with those of
the Occident. A diplomat spoke of Tokio as an agreeable place of
residence in every way. Native and foreign hospitality in the home are
absolutely separate; the Japanese wife does not receive general visits,
but her husband may entertain royally at his club, and most elaborate
entertainments are spoken of. The social circles of Tokio and Yokohama
have common interests, as the cities are but a short distance apart and
there is a mutual acquaintance. I met two American ladies who have
resided over thirty-five years in Yokohama, and they are most loyal in
their views.
[Illustration: _Theatre Street in Yokohama_]
In other lands I have visited, I have only dared give a tourist's
impressions fortified by some acknowledged authority, or by those who
have had the advantage of a long-time residence. My Japanese impressions
can only hint at what this wonderful land offers in beauty, in poetic
sentiment, and in development of life. To understand her people, one
must be a student for years; even Lafcadio Hearn admitted, after sixteen
years, that he knew very little of the land and of the people. Every
bow, every courtesy embodies a tradition of ages, handed down from
generation to generation. This truth should do away with the popular
belief that Japanese courtesy is all affectation.
There is another statement that ought to be carefully considered; it is
that the Japanese, as a people, are dishonest. I have heard this opinion
expressed usually in a comparison between the Chinese and the Japanese,
the instance of employment of Chinese bookkeepers and accountants being
cited as proof. I talked with several persons who had ground for their
belief, and the consensus of opinion exonerated the Japanese from so
serious a charge. One said the Japanese, with all their versatility,
have little aptitude for figures and realize it; another said that a
descendant of the old samurai would scorn to take the position of a
bookkeeper, considering the position beneath him. Everywhere in Japan I
left doors and drawers unlocked and never lost an article. At the hotel
in Yokohama, when leaving for a three days' absence, I applied at the
office for keys to the chiffonier and wardrobe. The clerk said, "Does
your door lock?" I replied, "Yes." "You need then have no fear, as the
servants are invariably honest." One gentleman, however, admitted that
in the matter of the verbal contract the Chinaman would consider it to
be as binding as a written one, while the Japanese might break it. We
Americans usually require written contracts at home, and we occasionally
hear of dishonesty and defalcation; but would we for a moment like to be
considered a dishonest people because of these isolated instances?
We were constantly meeting some one who was contrasting the two
countries with a view of emphasizing China's supremacy. Many seemed
jealous because Japan had succeeded in shaking off the shackles imposed
by law and custom, and had made remarkable strides along the lines of
progress. China with her wonderful past, her great resources and
intellectual force, will do the same thing some day, when she emerges
from a tyranny of law and tradition that covers a "modern" period of
three thousand years. The victory of Japan over China in 1894 taught one
lesson; but the Russian-Japanese war was even a greater lesson,--one
that the new party in China has not failed to make use of, and only time
can tell the outcome. The difference between the two nations is one of
kind, not of degree; there is little racial sympathy between them, and
fifty years from now, if one reads the signs correctly, there may be
more sympathy between Japan and Russia than between Japan and China.
[Illustration: _Mountains around Hakona_]
The Japanese are sincere in their unbounded desire to improve,
particularly to acquire a knowledge of English and other languages. In
shops or corners you will see unkempt boys poring over an English primer
or reader. They are all provident as a people, and since the close of
the war the nation has bent every energy toward industrial development.
Considerable has been said about the Japanese war loan; there is
authority for stating that much of the money thus borrowed at that time
was used for industrial expansion, as six railways alone were bought in
1906, and we have seen the amount expended in Manchuria in keeping up a
long line in an alien land at a great expense. Of Japan's commercial
future much might be said. Truly, we of the United States ought to
respect a people who have ideals somewhat like our own.
So many courtesies had been extended to us at the Grand Hotel in
Yokohama that we left with a profound feeling of appreciation. The
steamer _Korea_, of the Pacific Line, was to be our home for sixteen
days. A friend arrived from North China, who became my room-mate, and
the conditions were in every way pleasant. The social life aboard was
similar to that on an English steamer; many games were projected and
prizes given, the most elaborate things being reserved for the Fourth of
July, both for children and adults. Greatly to my surprise, I was
awakened on that morning by a volley of fire-crackers from the end of
the deck. A festive spirit prevailed all day, and in the evening an
extensive concert was given in the salon.
The first real excitement was our arrival at Honolulu on July 9th, where
we were allowed one day. The city, with its beautiful location and
tropical vegetation, is too well known to need description. We went
first by automobile to Mt. Pali, quite a distance in the country; here
we had a wonderful view looking across a long level stretch to a point
beyond which were rice-fields in the stage of early green, and beyond
that a sugar plantation, and beyond that still farther off a mass of
green foliage. The landscape at once marked Honolulu as being somewhat
akin to Java. The mountains here are volcanic in their origin.
[Illustration: _Mount Pali, Honolulu_]
Returning from Pali, we went to the Punch Bowl and Diamond Head, an
extinct volcano. Next, we took a long drive along the sea front to the
beautiful hotel called Moana, where we met friends. The ride led through
one of the principal residence streets, and we noticed beautiful homes
with their extensive grounds and profusion of palms, shrubs, and
flowers. We also saw the former palace of the Queen, which is now
reserved as the Governor's residence. We then went to Young's Hotel for
lunch, and, after that, visited some minor points of interest and some
shops, returning to the steamer in the late afternoon, feeling that
Honolulu was indeed one of the beauty spots of earth. On reaching the
ship, it seemed as if every passenger--man, woman, and child--was
decorated with long wreaths of flowers reaching to the ground; the
flowers are ruthlessly pulled to pieces and strung together to tempt the
tourists. It was really a very beautiful sight, but unfortunately the
flowers soon faded.
The day following we saw the battle fleet, only about two miles distant,
_en route_ for Yokohama; there were fifteen war-vessels, and it was
indeed a wonderful spectacle.
We arrived in the harbor of San Francisco at noon on July 14th, and,
after the usual delay with the health officer, we were soon in the
throes of the custom house, and it was an ordeal never before
experienced. We had been told by the steward on the steamer that we must
strictly follow the regulations laid down in the circular issued by the
Government, December, 1907. I paid the penalty of my honesty, and the
law was strictly enforced. I said to the custom house officer: "The lady
opposite was through nearly an hour ago." He remarked: "She probably
told a good many lies." And that was the consolation I had; having paid
my duty in a resigned frame of mind, believing in a protective tariff, I
departed.
The view of the harbor as we entered had seemed quite as it was of old,
and indeed its beauty impressed me more than ever before; but, as I left
the wharf and drove along some of the streets of the earthquake-stricken
city, there was a heartache, so much of wreck and ruin was evident. My
companion, who was in San Francisco two years before, told me that the
renovation seemed wonderful,--an opinion in which I concurred after
arriving at the St. Francis Hotel, for there were fine blocks newly
built in the vicinity.
I remained a few days in San Francisco, and visited certain familiar
points, most of my friends being out of the city in the month of July. I
went across to the beautiful suburb of Oakland and visited some shops
which seemed to me quite equal (except in their buildings) to those of
old. No one can visit San Francisco at the present time without being
impressed with the energy and enthusiasm displayed and by the amount of
work being accomplished.
I left on July 20th, over the Shasta route of the Southern Pacific. This
way is so widely known for its beauty of scenery that it seems
unnecessary to attempt any description. Mt. Shasta wore a smiling face
the morning of our arrival, the recent heat wave having melted much of
the snow that crowns its rugged summit.
Portland has a splendid location, with mountains and the sea alike
accessible, broad streets, and an unusually fine residence portion. Mt.
Hood was, however, wreathed in smoke on account of the prevailing forest
fires. The railway journey from Portland to Seattle is not lacking in
interest, as there is varied scenery the entire way.
A week in Seattle revived the impression of three years since, but the
city has made wonderful progress meanwhile, not only in growth of
population but in important public buildings and in the wealth of
private residences, particularly on the heights for which Seattle, like
San Francisco, is famous. Mt. Rainier was shrouded in mist and smoke,
but Puget Sound and Lakes Washington and Union added unusual features to
the landscape setting.
A detour of a day to Tacoma showed another beautifully located city high
above Puget Sound, which, having once been very prosperous, passed
through a reactionary stage, but is again alert and vigorous. Tacoma has
also fine buildings and attractive homes, and a great future lies before
it.
The railway journey from Seattle to Bellingham--about one hundred
miles--is interesting, for until we reach Everett we have Puget Sound
to our left and forests to our right, only broken at a few points by
small towns. Then we lose sight of the Sound until within a few miles of
Bellingham. The next reach of intervening waterway is termed Bellingham
Bay, and it furnishes a setting for a city situated both on hills and
lowland, withal very picturesque, Mt. Baker near in view and the Selkirk
range dimly visible. Bellingham is really a combination of four towns,
Whatcom, Fair Haven, Sea Home, and South Bellingham; it is a city of
about thirty-seven thousand inhabitants. The unifying process is going
on, and in a few years its separate identity will be forgotten, for with
its large interests--lumber and the salmon fisheries (here are located
the most important establishments in the world for the canning of
salmon)--Bellingham has a future before it, and my sojourn there is
fraught with many pleasant recollections of courtesies received, aside
from the good cheer of my daughter's home.
The State of Washington, with its fine climate, great forests, and
fertile soil, supplemented by natural beauty of landscape, proved a
revelation to me.
My way eastward lay over the Canadian Pacific Railroad. Three years
previous I had passed days in the Canadian Rockies; so Vancouver,
Glacier, Field, Laggan, and Banff recalled familiar associations, while
the intervening scenery had lost none of its exciting interest. Certain
it is that you rarely find finer mountains, either at home or abroad.
A few hours' stay in St. Paul and the renewal of some pleasant
associations, and I was speeding homeward, arriving in Milwaukee early
on the morning of September 30, 1908, almost a year from the time of my
departure.
In closing let me quote an extract, written eight years ago, on a return
with my daughter from over a year's absence abroad (including the
Western Orient): "Gazing on the lake front at Juneau Park and looking
onward to the terraced slopes of Prospect Avenue, then on to the sky
line of the water-tower, I exclaimed, 'No fairer scene has met my
vision.' At which sentiment the bronze statue of Solomon Juneau before
me seemed to nod approval, as a Founder should."
THE END
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Realizing from personal experience, as well as from observation,
that the mosques are too hurriedly visited and too little understood, an
attempt at classification has here been made, as well as to give them a
certain setting. This may prove a reminiscence to those who are familiar
with the mosques, and an incentive to investigation on the part of those
who are yet to visit Cairo.
[2] In 1877 Delhi acquired prominence as the place where H.M. Queen
Victoria was proclaimed Empress of India. The magnificent Coronation
Durbar of H.M. King Edward VII of England was also held there by Lord
Curzon, Viceroy of India, on January 1, 1900.
[3] This seeming repetition refers to a second Pearl Mosque.
[4] Buitenzorg divides the honor with Batavia of being a capital, and
its beauty of location and fine climate (seven hundred feet above the
sea-level) make it a favorite resort, as well as the centre of the
wealth and fashion of the island. In Buitenzorg one might linger on
indefinitely and never count the days.
[5] There has been a yearly revenue of $20,000,000 for some time.
[6] Mr. Macheeda proved himself worthy of his descent from the Samurai;
always a gentleman and a perfect guide.
[7] For a full and picturesque account of this process, the reader is
referred to Kipling's "From Sea to Sea."
* * * * *
Transcriber's Note:
Every attempt has been made to preserve the author's variant spelling
and punctuation. Obvious spelling error's or place name references have
been corrected as shown below:
Page Author Transcriber
32 crediulous credulous
32 beleve believe
72 Dteb-Fatehpur-Sikri Fatehpur-Sikri
72 Shiah Mahal Shish Mahal
83 superstitition superstition
101 Kyank taw Gyi Kyauk Taw Gyi
116 Conemara Connemara
126 pinkahs punkahs
151 chicona chichona
166 Water Castel Water Castle
171 kimona kimono
190 cerain certain
200 Nuen Tang Nuen-tung
266 China Japan
330 mavellous marvellous
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