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 The Project Gutenberg eBook of India
Impressions, With some notes of Ceylon
during a winter tour, 1906-7.
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Title: India Impressions, With some notes of Ceylon during a winter

tour, 1906-7.

Author: Walter Crane

Release date: May 14, 2017 [eBook #54718]

Most recently updated: October 23, 2024

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INDIA

IMPRESSIONS, WITH SOME NOTES OF CEYLON DURING A WINTER
TOUR, 1906-7. ***
INDIA IMPRESSIONS

THE MANIKARNIKÁ GHÁT BENARES

INDIA IMPRESSIONS
WITH SOME NOTES OF CEYLON
DURING A WINTER TOUR, 1906–7
BY WALTER CRANE, R.W.S. WITH
A FRONTISPIECE IN COLOUR AND
NUMEROUS OTHER ILLUSTRATIONS
FROM SKETCHES BY THE AUTHOR

NEW YORK
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1907

TO MY WIFE
MY TRAVELLING COMPANION
ON THIS TOUR, AND TO WHOM
T H E P R O J E C T WA S D U E , I
NOW INSCRIBE ITS RECORD
 PREFACE

A lthough many books descriptive of India and Indian life

have recently appeared, even a short visit to that wonderful
country presents so extraordinary a series of spectacles to the
European, especially to one seeing the East for the first time, that it
occurred to me that a few notes and fresh impressions from an
artist’s point of view, accompanied by sketches made on the spot, as
well as illustrations of the lighter side of travel, might not be without
interest to the public.

Even apart from the enormous artistic interest and architectural

splendours of India, which are so rich and abundant that one feels
that hundreds of drawings would be necessary to give any adequate
idea of their beauty, there is the human interest of these vast
populations, among whom so many streams of race, language and
religion are found, not to speak of the problems of government and
administration they present.
I cannot claim to have had any special facilities in seeing the
country—no more at least than might be at the command of an
ordinary English tourist, and have trusted chiefly to what powers of
observation I may possess in describing the various cities visited,
and the districts traversed, and I offer these notes strictly as
personal impressions.
Owing to ever increasing facilities of travel, the East is, in a
sense, drawn nearer to the West, or, rather the West to the East, but
nothing strikes the traveller so much as the apparently vast gulf
dividing the dark-skinned races from the white—a gulf deeper and
wider than the oceans.
I mean the profound differences in ideas, in religion, in
sentiment, in life, habit and custom. Western influence where even it
has had any apparent effect—apart from commercial enterprise—
seems to be but a thin veneer, and it is a constant wonder how the
British should have been able to acquire and maintain their grasp
over this vast peninsular, and to hold the balance between
antagonistic races and creeds so long.
But it is not a comfortable thought for an Englishman, loving
freedom, and accustomed to the principles of popular and
representative government at home, to realise that this vast empire
is held under the strictest autocratic system; and that the national
aspirations that are now beginning to make themselves heard and
felt should be entirely ignored, and the voice of native feeling sternly
suppressed.
One can only hope that the great British people will take more
trouble to study and understand their great Dependency, and not be
prevented by official explanations from making independent inquiries
and observations for themselves, and finally to “be just and fear
not.”
If, however, in any way and from any point of view, these
impressions may serve, in however slight a degree, to increase the
interest of my own countrymen and women in India, I shall be very
glad.
WALTER CRANE
Kensington, July 1907
 CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
Preface vii
I. The Voyage 1
II. Bombay and the Caves of Ellora 21
III. Ahmedabad 48
IV. Ahmedabad to Ajmir 62
V. Chitorgarh and Udaipur 74
VI. Jaipur 96
VII. Agra 112
VIII. Gwalior 127
IX. Delhi 144
X. Amritzar and Lahore 161
XI. Lucknow 185
XII. Benares 200
XIII. Calcutta—Darjeeling 218
XIV. Madras and the South 239
XV. Notes of Ceylon 290
Index 319
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS IN THE
TEXT
PAGE
Rough Sketch Map of India xvi
London to Port Said, a Hieroglyphic of our Voyage 3
Coaling at Port Said—and after! 6
Spoiling the Egyptians? or being Despoiled by Them! 7
Sensation in Solar Topis 7
The Suez Canal 9
The Passage of the Red Sea (Therm: 88° or so!) 12
In the same Boat—a Contrast at Aden 14
Some Types among our Fellow Passengers 17
Landing at Bombay 22
Awaiting the Customs—Bombay 23
Street Performers—Bombay 24
Interview with Candidates for the Post of Bearer—mostly
unbearable! 31
A Bed at the Dak Bungalow! Munmad (keep it Da(r)k) 35
We are introduced to the Caves of Ellora 39
And its Wasps 42
The Feet of Pilgrims (at Mohammedan Mosques) 50
Poor Relations 52
A Family Party—Cranes on a Mango Tree (Sarbarmati River) 54
Street Scene, Ahmedabad. English Travellers sketching and making
Purchases 57
The Camel’s Crinoline (Sugar Cane) Ajmir 71
First Elephant Ride. (Chitorgarh) 78
Rajputs and their Rarities. (Udaipur) 85
Hotel Accommodation (Jaipur), “for your Ease and Comfort” (or
rather for the Easing of your Rupees?) 98
To Amber on an Elephant 106
Shopping in Jaipur 109
Aggravating Agra 115
The Mainstay of India. Aquarius—the Water-bearer 119
To Gwalior Fort by Palanquin 129
Callers at the Guest House, Gwalior 137
A Dash for the Dining-car at Agra Road 146
Delhi Driving. Wanted—a Rule of the Road 159
She won’t be Happy till She gets Everything packed up 162
Demon Hotel Touts at Amritzar fighting for their Prey 163
Through Amritzar—sit tight and hold a Smelling Bottle! 165
An Indian Autolycus 168
Enjoying a Log Fire at Lahore 172
“The Woman in White” at Lahore (Suggestion for a Disguise
Party) 175
The Merchants of Kashmir 182
In Hospital, Lucknow. The Operating Table (Patient had a Bit of
Grit in her Eye after a Train Journey)—Sixteen Rupees were
extracted! 186
Jugglers at Lucknow—the Mango Tree Trick 187
Better Luck at Lucknow—through the Chowk on an Elephant 195
The Maharajah places his Carriage at our Disposal 202
Benares: viewing the Ghats from the Maharajah’s Peacock Boat 207
We see Snakes at Benares 209
The Maharajah’s Reception, decorating the Visitors 214
The Soothsayer at Calcutta—(or Palmistry under the Palms) 220
The Darjeeling Toy-Railway trying to catch its own Tail! 225
Characters in a Tibetan Masque, Darjeeling 228
The shy Peak of Kinchin Junga 233
A Ride at Darjeeling: “up Hill spare Me” 234
A Hailstone Chorus—Departure from Darjeeling 236
Calcutta to Madras—Section of Sleeper—or Something like It 240
Ladies or Gentlemen? (Fashions in Southern India) 243
Madras—a Jin-rickshaw made for Two 250
Tanjore—Native Theatre—House full. Performance from 9 p.m.
till 2 a.m.—but We didn’t stop to see It through 265
Trichinopoly—Ox Tonga—Vita Brevis! 271
The Sacred Elephants of Seringham—securing Two-Anna Pieces 274
The Rivals. Our Moonsawmy and the Madura Guide 277
Tuticorin. Departure for Colombo. The Last of the Kites and 287
 Crows
Landing at Colombo 291
Common Objects of Colombo. (Jin-rickshawus Bipedes) 293
A Cingalese Waiter 294
In Ceylon—Extremes meet—the Motor and the Ox-cart 296
Tea Plantation, Ceylon 303
Tea and Rubber in Ceylon—a rising Industry 309
A few Trifles the Wife wished to bring Home from India 316
 LIST OF PLATES
The Manikarniká Ghat, Benares Frontispiece
TO FACE PAGE
The Kylas, Caves of Ellora 38
Arrival of Mr Dadabhai Naoroji at Bombay, December 14,
1906 46
Tomb of Gunj Baksh, Sarkhei 58
Shrine of the Kwaja, Ajmir 66
The Maharajah’s Palace at Udaipur, from the Jagmandir
Pavilion 88
The Maharajah’s State Elephant, Jaipur 102
The Taj Mahal, from the Gateway 116
In the Bazaar, Gwalior 134
Approach to the Palace of Man Mandir, Gwalior 138
The Jama Musjid Mosque, Delhi 152
Lahore—The Mosque of Waza Khan 182
Irrigation Well, Lucknow 196
Kinchin Junga from Darjeeling 232
Tanjore—The Great Gate of the Temple 254
Sacred Tank of the Great Temple, Madura 282
Under the Palms at the Galle Face, Ceylon 292
ROUGH-SKETCH SKELETON-MAP OF INDIA TO SHOW OUR RAILWAY ROUTE & POSITION
OF THE PLACES VISITED
INDIA IMPRESSIONS
 CHAPTER I

THE VOYAGE

A visit to India and the East had long been a cherished but
somewhat vague dream with us. It seemed a far cry, and to
make a break of a few months in the midst of the occupations of a
busy life is always a difficult matter. The impossible, however,
became in course of time possible, and even practicable. Inquiries as
to ways and means had the effect of clearing our path; and having
the will, the way was soon discovered.

“Only sixteen days to Bombay!” our Indian friends in London told

us, and they were always urging us to go and see their wonderful
country for ourselves. Mr Romesh Dutt and Dr Mulich had been
visitors at our house. The former had presented his interesting
translation of the “Ramayana,” illustrated by Miss Hardy, to my wife.
Besides these we had from time to time made the acquaintance of
several native gentlemen in London who were reading for the Indian
Bar. They came and went, but all were earnest in their hope that we
should visit India, and I think that they had discovered our
sympathies were with those of their countrymen in their aspirations
to participate in the administration of the affairs of their own
country.
The decisive step of booking our passage was at last taken in
the summer of 1906, and the 19th day of November following saw
us en route for Marseilles, where we committed ourselves to the
care of the Messageries Maritime, and embarked on the S.S. “La
Nera” in due course, putting to sea on Wednesday, the 21st
November.
It was a lovely bright afternoon as we left the port, the southern
sunshine flooding everything in golden light. It is a wonderful
moment when the ship casts off. The great liner, which had seemed
a part of the land itself while the stream of passengers passed up
the gangways, and their baggage after them, begins to throb with
life and movement—to tremble, as it were, with expectation of
departure. As a swimmer about to take the water casts off all
impedimenta, so the ship casts off her cables and all that links her to
the shore, and glides off into the great blue deep, breasting the
waves of the vast open sea. Incredibly fast as the engines beat the
solid land fades away. The domes and towers and chimneys
silhouetted against the bright sky, the people on the quays, the ships
riding at anchor, the tossing harbour buoys, the small sailing craft
flitting about, all are rolled by as on the canvas of a moving diorama,
as the steamer clears the port, and all detail becomes merged and
lost under the bold main outlines of the rocky coast, or the dim
shapes of the distant mountains.
As the long shining wake increases astern and the coast recedes,
those nautical camp-followers the gulls, which have pursued the ship
from the harbour, begin to diminish their numbers, though they wing
a long way out to sea, attracted by the crumbs which occasionally
fall from the region of the cook’s galley.
 LONDON TO PORT SAID, A HIEROGLYPHIC OF OUR VOYAGE

A glorious sunset inaugurated our first night at sea—of the order

of the Golden Fleece, as it might be called—a distinct type, when in
a windless sky a large field of delicate fleecy cirrus cloud spreads in
a level field from west to east, and as the sun sinks its under edges
are lighted up by golden light, changing to orange, scarlet, and
crimson, when he disappears beneath the horizon. So our voyage
began propitiously, and with a smooth sea. Early the next morning
we passed through the Straits of Bonifazio, between Corsica and
Sardinia, the coasts of which we had a glimpse of through our port-
hole, and on the morning of the third day, after a little tossing, we
sighted Sicily, passing Scylla and Charybdis at the entrance of the
straits, and close to Messina. Etna soon came into view, its summit
covered with a crown of snow (as we had seen it on our visit to
Taormina in 1904).
The Calabrian coast, too, was very interesting, the mountains of
striking form, and the lines very varied all along to Cape Spartivento
—the toe of the boot-shaped continent of Italy. We could see the
little white towns along the coast and among the hills, and the
monasteries perched high upon crags. Etna gradually faded away,
like a vision, beyond the dark blue edge of the sea, and almost
immediately after passing the cape we encountered a strong easterly
wind from the Adriatic, which met the Mediterranean here.
At sunset there were huge banks of grey clouds of fantastic
shapes rising like high wooded islands, but we had moonlight on the
waters every night.
Those grey banks of cloud, however, were ominous, and by
November the 24th the weather grew so rough that the “fiddle-
strings” became necessary on the tables in the dining-saloon, where
the attendance, too, grew distinctly thinner. Towards evening we
sighted the cliffs of Crete (Candia), the fissured, mountainous, and
dangerous-looking coast plainly visible in the sunlight, though a bank
of cloud covered the summits of the island.
After much tossing and rolling through another day and night
the lights of Port Said were sighted about four o’clock on the
morning of November 26. There was a powerful search-light from
the lighthouse. We got into harbour about 5.30, and the coaling
began. It was a weird scene. Six black lighters were hauled
alongside our steamer, three on the port bow and three on the
starboard, and boats crowded to the water’s edge with coolies in
long ragged garments and turbans, mostly of a dusky red and blue,
the colours shining through the coal dust which darkened their
naturally swarthy visages and forms. As these crowded boats
approached with their weird passengers, one had an irresistible
suggestion of Charon ferrying lost souls across the Styx—there was
generally only one pair of oars, as the distance to the steamer from
the wharf was very short. Well, these were our coal-slaves, upon
whose cheap labour the speed of our steamers depends quite as
much as on their own engines, one felt. From the boats they
scrambled into the lighters—some shovelled up the coal into hand
baskets of matting which others lifted on to their shoulders and
carried across a narrow plank into the ship, forming a weird line of
black figures silhouetted against the shining water. The coolies
worked hard and fast in a black mist of coal dust and kept up a
continual hubbub of cries in Arabic and other strange tongues which
added to the weirdness of the scene.

COALING AT PORT SAID—AND AFTER!

 Port Said looked very new and flimsy, and was hopelessly
vulgarised by flaming posters and advertisements of Western origin
both in French and English. Boats swarmed round the ship’s side,
and swarthy eager-eyed hotel touts came aboard in Fez caps, as well
as a motley crowd of traders, Egyptian conjurers, and European
musicians who played the latest popular waltzes. We were glad to
escape the coal dust and go ashore, where an intelligent but
probably not too scrupulous Egyptian guide undertook to show us
everything, and we went with him round the town, passing through
the market crowded with the picturesque life of the East, which
indeed showed itself everywhere through the thin veneer of modern
European commercialism. A venerable-looking prophet swept the
streets, and, of course, there were plenty of street arabs ready to
turn “cart-wheels” or anything that would turn a more or less honest
penny in their direction, and the cry of “Backsheesh” was raised on
the slightest provocation. Our guide took us into a small
Mohammedan mosque, modern, but, of course, strictly according to
the traditional plan and oriented towards Mecca. We had to put on
loose canvas shoes over our own shoes to enter the sacred
precincts, and our guide gave us a long exposition of the necessary
ablutions to be performed by the faithful before and after prayers,
and showed us the water tank fitted with taps, at one of which a
devotee was busy having his wash.
 SPOILING THE EGYPTIANS? OR BEING DESPOILED BY THEM!

SENSATION IN SOLAR TOPIS

The bazaar bristled with European goods, and topis and

cigarettes were much in evidence, though there were some
charming Egyptian fabrics in the form of scarves brocaded with
patterns in gold or silver thread or black on white fine linen.
On the whitewashed walls of some of the houses I noticed some
primitive paintings in distemper, apparently representing camels,
travellers, and palm-trees, done in profile. They were carried
horizontally across the front of the houses as a sort of frieze, and
were curiously suggestive in a childlike way of a survival of the
ancient Egyptian method of decorating. Our guide said that they
indicated that the dweller in the house had visited Mecca. Returning
to “La Nera” we found her indeed blacker than she was painted, as
everything on board was covered with a fine coal dust, which the
energy of the crew with copious hose-pipes eventually got rid of.
The harbour of Port Said is always busy, many liners and transports
coming and going, war vessels of various nationalities lying at
anchor, boats plying to and fro, and young, lithe, brown-skinned
natives on the quays, ready to dive for silver pieces, crouching
shivering on the edge of the wharf, or in a boat, and crying in an
almost continuous monotone, “à la mer,” “à la mer,” “à la mer,” until
the hoped-for small coin is thrown into the water, when they adroitly
dive and intercept it as it falls turning and glittering in the water, and
reappear with it in their mouths, which soon open for more.

THE SUEZ CANAL

We started again at 12.30 for Suez, entering the canal. Our

steamer was stopped at the first village to allow two steamers to
pass—the “Clan Campbell” of Glasgow and the “Herefordshire” of
Liverpool.
The weather was quite cool and cloudy and it turned out a
showery afternoon. Flocks of pelicans were seen on the waters of
the wide shallow lakes we passed. There was a stormy sunset, and
there was lightning after nightfall, but later the moon shone brightly,
falling on the wan sand of the banks, which had quite the effect of
snow under its clear cold light.
The steamer moved slowly through the canal at about the rate
of five knots. A passenger was landed at Ismailia, after which we
entered the bitter lakes, and next morning we were within fifteen
miles from Suez, but our steamer had to stop owing to a transport
ship having got aground ahead of us. A German steamer was close
behind us, and while waiting many of the passengers landed and
roamed about on the desert sand. It was not long, however, before
the transport was got off, and she presently passed us, a huge white
steamer named the “Rena,” crowded with English “Tommies”
homeward bound.
The passage of the Suez Canal is very interesting and comes as
a welcome relief after tossing on the open sea out of sight of land.
The long level lines of the sandy desert have a reposeful effect, but
fine ranges of mountains are often seen beyond, and the desert is
frequently varied with the
“strip of herbage strown”

embroidered with palm-trees, and these elements of Egyptian

landscape steeped in the translucent atmosphere are relieved by
striking bronze-coloured figures in blue robes and swarthy Arabs in
white in the foreground on the sand-banks, or an occasional string
of camels.
We reached Suez about midday and anchored off the town. The
Consul’s tug paid us a visit, and our vessel was soon surrounded by
a small fleet of picturesque craft with lateen sails, and gunwales
painted with eyes, and in the semblance of quaint fish in bands of
green and white, manned by swarthy Arabs and Egyptians. These
brought cargo and provisions to be hoisted on board, and the
process took an hour or two, but in the afternoon we steamed away
again and entered the Red Sea.
 The weather grew perceptibly warmer, but was still not
oppressive, and there was a cool breeze in the evening. There was a
beautiful roseate light at afterglow on the eastern shore, where
Mount Sinai was pointed out, and the well of Moses, and the
traditional place of the Israelites’ passage of the Red Sea. The sun
set in gold and purple behind a bold range of craggy mountains on
our starboard side, and a splendid moonlight night succeeded, the
moon nearly at full.
On the morning of the 28th November we passed “The Brothers”
lightships to starboard, and the next day we were out of sight of
land, with a pleasant breeze under the double awnings of the upper
deck, enjoying the best summer weather, which we should think
ourselves lucky to have in England. The Red Sea was really as blue
as the Mediterranean, though of course subject to changes
according to the sky, which turned to a wonderful clear greenish
gold after sunset, powdered with small dark clouds which floated
across it; a violet flush above the gold blending it into the deep blue
of the upper sky, the small floating clouds against it showing ashy
grey, while against the gold of the afterglow they looked nearly
black, the sea being of a rather cold metallic blue. The serene
weather and the splendour of the moonlit nights continued, but the
temperature rose considerably, reaching 88° Fahr. in our cabin,
which was on the starboard side of the ship. It is as well to
remember that port side cabins are cooler for the outward voyage,
and those on the starboard side for the homeward voyage, as going
eastwards the heat of the sun falls on the starboard side necessarily
for the greater part of the day, while going westwards of course the
reverse is the case. This applies more particularly to the Red Sea.
 THE PASSAGE OF THE RED SEA
(Therm: 88° or so!)

On November 30th we passed the island of Jubbelteer, on which

was a lighthouse, and later, “The Twelve Apostles,” a series of rocky
volcanic-looking islands of bold and angular outline, and apparently
barren. Sea-birds, however, were seen with black and white bodies
and brown wings flying close to the water.
On December the 1st we passed Mocha, of coffee celebrity, and
the island of Perrim, where there are lighthouses and signal stations,
but, like the other islands we had seen, otherwise desolate in the
extreme. Later the Arabian coast came into view and the sea was
dotted with the sails of Arab dhows. The coast as we approached
Aden showed volcanic-looking mountains, striking in form and bold
in outline, with stretches of sand and rock between. Aden was
reached about 2 P.M., a school of dolphins playing about the ship as if
to welcome our arrival.
Aden looked a queer uninviting place, baked dry by the sun—a
cluster of temporary and barrack-like buildings huddled together
anyhow along the rocky coast, with never a tree to be seen; the
ragged, precipitous, barren edges of extinct volcanoes forming a
background to the red-roofed barracks and bungalows.