The Indian Eye on English Life, or Rambles of a pilgrim reformer

Chapter I. From Bombay To London

A Pilgrimage long deferred — Preliminaries — "Crocodile" — The Start — Organisation on Board — The "Voyagers and their Fare— the Language difficulty — the Pastor — The Voyage — Aden — Suez — Port Said — Brindisi and Trieste — A Canter across the Continent — First Railway experience in Europe — On to Lucerne — Hard put to it ... 1

Chapter II. In And About London

First Impressions of a London Crowd — The "Weather — The People — The Air they Breathe — The Dress they Wear — The Houses they Live in — The Food they Eat — The Drink they Drink, unto Drunkenness — The Pipe they Smoke 27

Chapter III. Life As Seen At Home

English Home Life— Life At School and College— Why Indian Youths fail amidst such Associations — The Home Life of England and India contrasted — Marriage — Over-Population — Polygamy — Mothers — Funerals — Child Insurance CONTENTS. V

Chapter IV. Life As Seen In Public Affairs

The Poverty of London— Charity Organizations— Pangs page of Hunger — Personal Appearance and Hygiene — Re ligion—What has Christianity done ?— The Future of Christianity — Going to Church — Heart-Longings —The Slaughter of Animals— Hunting and Shooting — A Wild Beasts Show — Vivisection — Labour Unions — Friendships— Militarism— The Navy— Other Ca reers — The Salvation Army — Racing and Betting — The Future of Royalty. 85

Chapter V. Sex

The Mystery of Sex, and its Inequalities — Sex in the Affairs of Life — Women as a Social Factor, in the West and in the East — The Englishwoman as a Moral Leaven — Crocodile avisiting 149

Chapter VI. Life As Seen In The Streets And Shops

The London Policeman — The Postman — "Cabby" — The 'Bus — The Tram — The Railway — "Apartments" — Expenses — "The Daughters of India" — Business Morality — Tricks of Trade — British Pluck — An independent Costermonger — Circulars and Advertisements — "Living Pictures." — The Press in England and in India — Exhibitions — The Houses of Parliament — The Sights of London — The Parsi Burial Ground — Parks and Markets — Roses and Kisses — Stray Sights — Street Arabs — "Rum uns" — Street Cries — The London Rough —"Bloody"— Farewell to London CONTENTS. VI

Chapter VII. The Continent Reconnoitred

Paris — Cologne — Munich — Ober-Ammergau — Florence — page Rome — St. Peter's — The Vatican — Naples — Venice — The Passion Play at Ober-Ammergau— Trieste, Two Days of Suspense — A Channel Crossing — Some other Continental Cities — Trieste to Bombay

Preface

TO FIRST AND SECOND EDITIONS. These notes were jotted down during a brief holiday, mainly with the object of diverting thought. They are now offered to the British Public by a stranger in blood, in creed, and in language ; by a student too early withdrawn from the advantages of systematic study. In contrasting the New Civilization with the Old, the writer cannot pretend always to maturity of ex perience or soundness of conclusion. All that he claims is a friendly conversation, in open council, with Englishmen on the one hand and Indians on the other. That granted, he hopes these rambles in the field of Humanity may not prove altogether to be the ramblings of a vacant mind. Bombay, Xmas, 1891. THIRD EDITION. Our little journal may now be considered as up to date — if this be possible in such a case.

The first two editions were put forward, in London, under a rather uninviting title against which neither entreaty nor protest could avail. And, as a bad name sticks PEEFACE. faster than a good one, it is useless, at this stage, to try to turn the "Indian Eye" away from its appointed task. The owner of the eye has seen enough of English public life to acknowledge with out demur the sovereignty of two of its principal factors — the Publicans and the Publishers. This third edition goes out from India. Bombay, 1895. The Indian E^ye ON ENGLISH XlJE OR RAMBLES OF A PILGRIM REFORMER

Chapter I From Bombay To London

A Pilgrimage long deferred — Preliminaries — "Crocodile" — The Start — Organisation on Board — The Voyagers and their Fare — The Language difficulty — The Pastor — The Voyage — Aden — Suez — Port Said — Brindisi and Trieste — A Canter across the Continent — First Railway experience in Europe — On to Lucerne — Hard put to it. A trip to London has been my dream for years, a hope long deferred. More, indeed, than wish or hope, it has been a faith with me, to be rewarded in the ful ness of time. By the end of 1889 I find I have ram bled over nearly the whole of the Indian Continent, comparing its past with the present, and catching a glimpse of the future, as afforded by the comparison. What could be more natural for a student of humanity, a pilgrim in search of the truths of life, than that he should now wish for a look at the other world, beyond the seas, whose fortunes are so closely knit with those B of his own country ?

There is so much to learn and to unlearn from contact with a different civilization, more robust and more real, in spite of its "falsehood of extremes." One could not expect to pick up the living facts of to-day so readily as by personal observation, or to apply them with equal force and precision to the shifting theories of yesterday. No study is so absorbing for man as a study of human progress ; no method so successful for it as the comparative method. And where could one find a wider scope for the exercise of his observation than in the metropolis of the world ? With London for its vantage ground, let the pilgrim look at the world's fair around. If he have eyes, he can see a panorama of happiness and misery spread out in wild profusion before him. If he have ears, he may hear the throbs of this great big heart of the universe, pulsating with the highest aspirations and the lowest passions of humanity.

With all its unattractiveness, London is still a Mecca for the traveller in search of truth, a Medina of rest for the persecuted or the perplexed in spirit. Though centre of perpetual motion, it is still the Persepolis of human grandeur in repose. To the searcher after enlightenment it is a Buddha-Gaya ; a Benares for the sinner in search of emancipation. Damp, dirty, noisy London, thou art verily a Jerusalem for the weary soldier of faith. There is no shrine on the face of this earth, where the pilgrim reformer could pitch his tent with a larger promise of grace from without, witnessing the Divine Man betrayed and crucified every day, only the better to conduce, as it is believed, to the glory of God and the happiness of Man. Friends have asked me over to England repeatedly, even if only for a few months.

Some of them have offered to relieve the guest of pecuniary anxiety, know ing how poor he is, and how freely he has had to give of his own to others more needy than himself. The invitations have been prompted more by public than by personal motives ; my visit has been contemplated on the same grounds. But it could not be decided on till the beginning of 1890. I am compelled about this time to slacken the speed of private correspondence and to suspend all literary effort. There is no immediate pressure of public affairs to keep me in India. Political interest seems to flag, and social movements are allowed to rest awhile, in sympathy with a quiet reaction that has been working for the reformers. So, one day, in the height of enjoying a picnic at Karli, the subject of a visit to London is broached to the domestic circle.

A brief discussion follows, ending in a liberal vote of supplies. An early day is fixed for the pilgrimage, so that there may be no changing of mind hereafter. All the same I dread the parting, and have hardly strength enough to sit at the same table. Is it not strange for a pilgrim, born for the service of others, that he should feel stepping out of the family orbit as one of his sorest trials, although as a matter of fact he has spent more of his life amongst strangers than amongst the dear ?i«faniiliar faces at home ? In the present case parting is more than usually painful. With the home minister somewhat of an invalid, the junior members growing impatient with a new interest in life, which they lack the means of adequately gratify ing ; with all parties having to give up a portion of b their reserves in order to keep the wanderer in com fort ; it feels anything but a holiday trip when the time comes for starting.

But there is no turning back now ; no going forward hereafter if the present chance is missed. So, with the help of my valued friend Mr. T. J. Bennett, I secure a single-berth cabin on board the Austro-IIungarian Steamship Imperator, with permission to dine in my cabin and to have my man with me. It is a curious thing for a traveller to confess, but I seldom dine at the common table, at home or abroad. This habit of seclusion has grown upon me so much that I can hardly bear the idea of entering a common room ; hence the need of a companion whenever I have a long distance to go. This time I take up an old acquaintance whom (for purposes of an allegory on the banks of the Thames) we shall name " Crocodile." He is the eldest son of a gentleman at large, trained to nothing in particular, and accustomed from his infancy to a shabby-genteel existence.

Neglected alike at home and at school, he has grown up a hulking baby, with his finer instincts half-developed and the growth of responsibility arrested somewhere midway. I have tried, in vain, to lick him into a useful member of society. But he tires very soon of a settled life of independence, and breaks away from it under various pretexts — weak memory, short temper, and bad luck especially. He is not born to be a servant, he thinks; and a master be cannot make, even on a small scale. * He prefers to live upon his wits, and when at the point of starvation lapses into a sort of parasitism which he looks upon as his earthly paradise. Poor Crocodile ! What a puzzle, what a paradox he is ! A willing worker, and yet useless to himself. Honest and faithful, without being acceptable to friends.

Temperate, but with the temper of a demon ; shrewd, without any business habits to speak of ; a born gentle man, with the manners of a boor breaking out every now and then. His life is a failure, because he cannot see the purpose that underlies it. Hardened by its ups and downs, he looks upon life as a game of chance in which the victory is often for the swiftest. He runs swiftly enough, at times like a madman. But there is no method in his madness. With his fine presence, his tact, his pushing and pleasing ways, Crocodile ought to have made a capital ambassador, or a canvassing agent for a large enterprise. I put him in the way once or twice. But the situation was far too tempting ; instead of confining himself to facts and figures he took flight into the regions of fiction. Latterly he has drifted towards a half-enlightened pessimism.

The only way to keep him from sinking is to appeal to his manhood, and to the pride of family which seems to be the orje strong element in his character. As a companion he has been very useful to me for small errands or purchases into which he throws all that remains to him of a heart. It is a good heart, too, this remnant, but soured by disappointments. Crocodile does not believe in friendship, though fond of making friends, perhaps with an eye to the main chance. Pie opens business on board by getting the steward he and the doctor to allow him to occupy my cabin, representing his master to be so " religious," that would not have his meals from other than Parsi hands, and so weak in health as to be subject to fits. The steward believes our Crocodile, and admires his devotion. But the doctor is somewhat of a sceptic.

He bustles up to my cabin about noon, and after referring to the cock and-bull story told by Crocodile, pretends to feel my pulse. Before leaving, the doctor hopes I will not go off into any of my "fits" during the voyage, with such an attendant to look after me and himself. Crocodile has a bad quarter of an hour with me when I hear of bis prank. But he pleads, with tears gathering in his eyes, that he meant it all for the best. He always means well, but can seldom show it by his acts. The only proof of his innocence he can afford is a copious flow of tears, hearing, speaking, eating or drinking. He cannot be charged honestly with eating or drinking like a whale ; but he can weep like a Crocodile, unprovoked, when he has to clear his character. Hence his name, which I hope he may try to deserve.

About 11 a.m., on the first of April 1890, I say good bye to friends once more. I read the last letters from contributors to the Indian Spectator, kindly under taking to relieve me of all work. I bless my brother Dayaram for his words of comfort. Finally, I am about to drop into my deck-chair when I feel a friendly hand tap me on the shoulder from behind. It is Mr. Patrick Eyan, the Magistrate, heaving and panting. For a minute he cannot speak, though beaming all benevolence. On recovering his breath he explains that he heard of my sudden flight just before starting for Court, that he looked into the Court only to tell the clerks he would be delayed for an hour, and drove up to the harbour as fast as he could. " I dared not let you slip out without a shake of the hand," adds the honest old Irishman.

"Who knows? we may never meet again." It is fated, indeed, to be our last parting on this side of the grave. A few months later, while still in England, I hear of Mr. Byan's death at Poona, under very sad circumstances. Dear old Patrick Eyan ! How kind and wise ! Wise for every one but himself. Many a time have I consulted him on matters of extreme delicacy. Many a time have I recommended applicants to his unpaid service. He loved to help the needy, by purse and by pen. As a magistrate he was more humane, perhaps, than just, always siding with the helpless and the ignorant, as against the powerful police or unscrupulous limbs of the law. How often he turned away from the Police Inspector with a tactful compli ment to his ingenuity, and turning to the accused with pretended severity, dismissed him or her with the remark, "Don't let me see you here again" !

He was always for giving "a chance" to the accused, especially where the Police conducted the prosecution ; and in not a few cases, I believe, he prevailed upon friendly lawyers to defend the defenceless. No wonder that he was one of the most popular men that ever sat on the bench. Personally he exhibited a rare power of friendship. He volunteered useful advice to me on complicated questions of law and procedure, put me straight on the Home Eulc and other political problems, offered to grind for the Indian Spectator, and last time I went to the hills he offered to read the proofs for me, so that I could have a real holiday. Poor fellow, what was there between thee and me to lead to this ex travagance of friendly regard ? And I was denied tbe solace of watching over thee in thy last moments!

Bombay will long remember this warm-hearted official Bohemian, with all his blunderings and improvidence. In his day he is said to have sowed his wild oats rather wildly ; and a plentiful crop of them he had to reap. But that was long before my time. I knew only Patrick Eyan, the popular magistrate. Two minutes after Mr. Eyan's departure the Imperator weighs anchor, and for the first time now I feel sure that I have left for the Land of Freedom, the land of my youthful dreams, which holds so much that is precious to me personally, and so much more that is of greater value to the land of my birth. The Imperator is quite a little palace afloat, both as regards size and steadiness. From captain to cabin boy it has over eighty hands at work day and night ; and yet everything in every department goes on with the regularity of a clock.

The principle of division of labour is so well maintained, that there is not the slightest friction observable amongst officers or men. Not only is there no grumbling as to overwork, or other kind of work than that contracted for ; there is scarcely any ordering about found necessary. Every hand seems to know his own work ; its why, when, and how. Every hand goes through the work cheerfully, humming or whistling a tune, or smiling at the on lookers who stand gaping in admiration at some perilous feat he ma,y be performing on the top-mast. This esprit de corps is what strikes one most on board. How much we Indians differ from Europeans in the matter of organization ' We hardly understand the word. I doubt if wc have it in our vernaculars. At any rate, the spirit seems to have been almost lost to us.

What a comprehensive word, this organization ! It includes order, discipline, presence of mind — the best form of individual and collective responsibility. Think of a vessel like the Imperator, officered and manned by natives of India. What sulks, what shirkings, what disorder, each blaming the other for his own fault ! In no respect are we so inferior to Europeans as in that of organized effort. Yet the root-idea of our system of caste is so akin to modern organization ! Caste in India was once the most perfect type of organization. Others seem to have borrowed from us both the idea and the institution. How fallen we are from our original selves ! Too much credit could not be given to the P. & 0. and other Companies for the employ ment of Indian Lascars. They make capital sailors, and have more than once proved themselves worthy of their salt in times of danger.

In fact, the Indian sailor ought to be found equally efficient with the European sailor, and much less expensive, as is known to be the case with the Indian soldier. I do not know of more than two natives who have made capable ship officers. Most of our coast steamers are officered by natives who know little of navigation, and would be found unfit for work on strange seas. Why don't our educated men take to this branch of the public service ? Perhaps they are not alone to blame for the neglect. And why don't they take more kindly to travelling abroad ? Now that there is a chance of the National Congress holding one of its sessions in London, and an International Congress of Orientalists is also coming on, I should like very much to see a hundred of our best men sent over as delegates, and the expense defrayed by public subscriptions.

It would prove a valuable investment if the delegates undertook to use their eyes and ears more than their tongues. The ceaseless activity of the English, their public spirit, their commercial enterprise, their philanthropy — all these, if properly watched, would tell our representa tives how a country becomes great, and remains so. A study, on the spot, of the political development of England, would interest them no less than its material progress. I honestly believe that even such a brief training, given to the more promising of our public workers, would be more profitable to India than the founding of another college, or the employing of a thousand additional hands as quill-drivers under the Collector Bahadur. Is the expense too much for patriotic Indians to bear ? Not at all, unless our pat riot wishes to serve his country by sacrificing others — "I am prepared for any sacrifice if some one else suffers for it."

As to the attitude of caste regarding foreign travel, one cannot deny that it is more or less hostile, and not without reason. Caste loves contentment — to let things alone. Foreign travel brings discontent, under the happiest of circumstances. The priestly law-givers of India were shrewd enough to see the risk ; in their day perhaps the evil out-weighed the good. We are now living under totally different conditions. If the educated Hindu is sufficiently educated to con ciliate the reasonable prejudices of his elders, he has little or nothing to lose from crossing the Kdld pdni (Black Waters), and certainly a great deal to gain. The Imperator presents a very cleanly exterior, though a curious glance towards the kitchen, or a turn of the nose towards the pantry, meets with doubtful reward. We enjoy our bath daily ; sometimes twice a day.

We enjoy our meals, too, the dishes being more to our taste than English dishes generally are. The cold drinks are fairly good, as also the fruit, such as we get. Of the hot drinks the coffee is excellent, the tea execrable. Dinner is a tiresome affair, even when taken in the cabin. The courses are too numerous, as a rule. From the way in which Europeans eat their dinner, one would think they were going to starve for a week after. As they eat, so they drink, making a provision against a fast which, however, never comes. Happy diners ! I envy your appetite just as you envy my tramp on deck all the livelong day. The deck might be washed earlier than it usually is, so as to enable one to enjoy the morning breeze longer. The company on board is rather miscellaneous ; but it never runs into crowds — small knots of men and women sitting apart from one another.

The Lord be praised for his mercy in dividing us here into sex and race and special interests ! We have mostly Germans for our fellow-passengers. A fine people — rather awkward in movement, but very good-natured. They eat heartily, like the Parsis. When they are not eating, you may find them drinking or smoking. They are large-bodied, and have to keep the inner machine in gear. Besides, they want to make the best of their holiday, and have little to do beyond turning the pages of a fat volume after a fatter meal. Their ladies make very kindly practical friends. How formidable stands the language difficulty in the way of uncultured travellers like myself! The very first day on board I have some trouble with the steward, who has put another passenger into my cabin. But we get over it by a liberal show of fingers.

It is by no means unpleasant, this talking by signs and numbers. But the thing grows tiresome, especially when leading to practical jokes. For instance, one is tempted to sit down and swear, when, on having asked for a drink of cold water at 10 p.m. in the Eed Sea, he is presented with a jug of boiling water and clean towels for a shave ; or, with roast beef when he has asked for bread-toast. When asked for ink, Dominico appeals to Maximilian, and Maximilian to Antonio, and Antonio to Franz, and he to somebody else, till they all run up to the steward, conjugating ink — hink, hank, hunk. One evening I salute a lady whom I have been asked to look up, and whose brother has spoken to her about my presence on board. With my usual knack at blundering I go up to the wrong lady — that is, to her maid who modestly explains, "Me comb mit him" — I come with her.

Shade of Lindley Murray ! — a quad ruple murder in a sentence of four words ! Here is a clever-looking lady's maid who has been in Anglo-India for some time, and who defies her form of speech with such utter defiance. "Me comb mit him ! " Talk of "Babu English" after this. A Babu school-boy would blush at it. But why blame the poor German maid ? There are thousands of English ladies and gentlemen who cannot speak German, or any Indian dialect, better. Is it not curious that the average Englishman, who scorns to pick up foreign languages while travelling, insists upon foreigners speaking to him in Eng lish ? You observe this everywhere on the Continent, as also in India, where hotel-keepers, railway servants, cab-drivers, and others are obliged to accommodate the grumpy islander so far. In no other respect, perhaps, does the imperial instinct of the Anglo-Saxon seem to be more imperiously asserted.

Talking of "Babu English," I should like to know how many Englishmen speak Bengali half so well as Bengalis speak English. How many are the English scholars who handle the language more effectively than, for instance, Sambhu Chunder Mookerji or Eajendralal Mitra, Kristodas Pal or Keshub Chunder Sen ? The Babu schoolboy furnishes an everlasting topic to English joke-makers. His knack of mixing up synonyms is notorious, and is, in fact, shared largely by other natives of India. The most amusing instance in point is where a Bengali matriculate is alleged to have paraphrased "animal spirits" into "brutal souls." Perhaps it was Eoget's Thesaurus that betrayed the poor boy ; perhaps he was thinking of some rampant Anglo-Saxon when he thus stigmatized the animal spirits of the English schoolboy, to which he is a stranger.

But it is wrong to father all such vagaries of speech on the much abused Babu. Parsis, Marathas, and Mahomedans are equally eccentric, if not more so at times. Who has not heard of the unconventional cockneyisms of the Parsi, the gutturals and cerebrals of the Marathas, the feeble hyberboles of the Mussulman ? But these faults are venial when compared with the havoc that the average Englishman plays with our vernaculars. For purposes of interpretation I am tempted to make friends with one of the voyagers, a missionary return ing home with his motherly wife and a troop of children. He is very zealous for the gocd of souls. On the first Sunday after starting he inveigles his stray flock into the saloon, and sings and prays and exhorts to such good purpose that the said flock keep inside their cabins the Sunday following.

I like him very much myself, both as a pastor and a man of the world. He is shrewd but kind-hearted ; seems to have been some what ill-used in life ; and what wonder, with the little colony that has sprung up around him while yet he is very far from being a patriarch. There he is, at dawn of day, working as dry nurse, giving a turn to the little ones, or running after a truant, boots and towel in hand, just as he got out of bed. After breakfast you see him sallying forth as a scholar, the wife following with a whole class, baby bringing up the rear in the arms ofthe eldest girl in her capacity of pupil-teacher. Before lunch our scholar has sometimes to assume the functions of a nurse, which he does with more dignity than grace, the wife smiling her thanks from her cozy corner, as he runs about on odd little errands.

After lunch our pastor gets together his domestic flock, and stumbling up the steep ladder, improvises a chorus of sacred music, brib ing a delinquent now and then with a piece of orange, or the promise of something better " another time." The concert goes on till 4, unless baby insists upon joining it in a falsetto. In that case there is a hasty retreat by the back steps and a sudden interruption of the concert. Towards evening the family turns out again, this time mater leading the way with her work box, papa carry ing the crib on his/shoulder, with baby purring com placently inside. ■'Poor dear pastor ! Old before thy time. What a quantity of wife and children on Es. 150 a month, and that in a strange land ! Well hast thou earned a holiday in thy German home. The voyage is disagreeably smooth, so much so that I have to pray one evening for a squall, when tired of walking the decks, or of reading the three-volume novels with which the library has been loaded, or of hearing the music played by amateurs on board, perplexing even to my friend the German pastor.

This morning the Captain asks if I am "all right." I thank him, and reply that his ship makes me " too much all right." He laughs, and adds, "wait, wait till we near the Mediterranean." As we go along I feel praying again for a gale. There is some response to the prayer in the Mediterranean, but it is too feeble to be appreciated. No one, not even the ladies, pays heed to it. We now make up our minds to wait till crossing the English Channel. But there, too, the gale is child's play. We walk up and down the deck, from starting at Calais to landing at Dover. We see some of the ladies huddled together, towels and smelling bottles in hand, and bowls at their sides, deserted at this critical moment by their lords who are fortifying the. inner man at the bar, against the coming gale, or seeking corners in a very suspicious way.