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GOLD, SPORT, AND COFFEE PLANTING IN MYSORE
WITH CHAPTERS ON
COFFEE PLANTING IN COORG, THE MYSORE REPRESENTATIVE ASSEMBLY, THE INDIAN
CONGRESS, CASTE, AND THE INDIAN SILVER QUESTION
BEING THE 38 YEARS' EXPERIENCES OF A MYSORE PLANTER
BY
ROBERT H. ELLIOT
AUTHOR OF "EXPERIENCES OF A PLANTER," "WRITTEN ON THEIR FOREHEADS," ETC.
_WITH A MAP IN COLOURS_
WESTMINSTER
1898.
DEDICATION.
I have much pleasure in dedicating this book to my friend SIR K.
SHESHADRI IYER, K.C.S.I., Dewan of Mysore, and trust that it may
be useful in making more fully known the resources of the State
whose affairs he has for many years so wisely and ably
administered.
PREFACE.
In the year 1871 I published "The Experiences of a Planter in the Jungles
of Mysore," and had intended to bring out a new edition of it, but, from
various causes, the project was delayed, and when I at last took the
matter in hand, I found that so many things had happened since 1871 that
it was necessary to write a new book. In this, hardly anything of the
"Experiences" has been reproduced, except a very few natural history notes
and the chapter on Caste, a subject to which I would particularly call the
attention of those interested in Indian missions.
I have been much assisted by informants too numerous for mention here, and
can only allude to those who have most conspicuously aided me. Amongst
these I am much indebted to my friend Sir K. Sheshadri Iyer, K.C.S.I.,
Dewan of Mysore, for access given me to information in the possession of
the Government, and for returns specially prepared for the book. From my
friends Mr. Graham Anderson and Mr. Brooke Mockett, two of the most able
and experienced planters in Mysore, I have derived much information and
assistance. I am particularly obliged to my friend Dr. Voelcker[1] for
many valuable hints, and the chapter on manures has had the advantage of
being read by him. For information as regards the history of coffee in
Coorg I am much indebted to Mr. Meynell, who represents the large
interests of Messrs. Matheson and Co. in that province, and indeed,
without his aid, I could not at all have done full justice to the subject.
To Mr. Grey, manager of the Nundydroog mine, I am indebted for information
as regards the gold mines, and for the kind assistance he in many ways
afforded me when I visited them last January. I am also obliged to Colonel
Grant, Superintendent of the Mysore Revenue, Survey and Settlement
Department, for information as regards game, and the proposed Game Act for
Mysore.
I had intended to add a chapter on the cultivation of cardamoms and
pepper, but have not done so, because, for the want of recent information
from those specially engaged in these cultivations, I could not feel
confident of doing full justice to the subject. I may, however, say that
as regards cardamoms, I have good reason for supposing that there is not
much to be added to the chapter on them which appeared in the
"Experiences."
Though I have collected many experiences, I am of course aware that many
more remain to be collected, and I should feel particularly obliged if
planters and those who have any experiences to give me (natural history
and sporting information would be very welcome) would be kind enough to do
so. These I would propose to incorporate in an improved edition, which I
look forward to bringing out when a sufficient amount of additional
information has been collected. If those who have any information to give,
suggestions to make, or criticisms to offer, would be kind enough to
communicate with me, an improved edition might be brought out which would
be highly valuable to all tropical agriculturists, and all those
interested in the various subjects on which I have written.
My Indian address is Bartchinhulla, Saklaspur, Mysore State, and home
address, Clifton Park, Kelso, Roxburghshire.
ROBERT H. ELLIOT.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Dr. Voelcker, Consulting Chemist to the Royal Agricultural Society of
England, was, by the permission of the Society, employed for upwards of a
year by the Government in India; and his "Report on the Improvement of
Indian Agriculture" is an elaborate, work, of upwards of 400 pages, and
contains a large body of carefully digested information, remarks, and
opinions which will be of great value to the Government, and of much
practical value to planters, and all tropical agriculturists.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.--INTRODUCTORY.
Myself and the route to Mysore in 1855.
The pioneer planters of Southern Mysore.
The life of a planter by no means a dull one.
Effects of English capital on the progress of the people and the
finances of the State.
The value, in times of famine, of European settlers.
A deferred native message of thanks to the English public.
The causes that have led to an increase of famine and scarcities.
Measures to promote the digging of wells by the people.
A line of railway from Mysore to the western coast sanctioned.
Wanted, land tenures which will promote well digging and other
irrigation works.
The late Dewan's opinions in favour of a fixed land tax.
Evidences of irrigation works made by occupiers being promoted by
a fixed land tax.
Famine question of great importance to settlers in India.
The number of European and native coffee plantations in Mysore.
Probable annual value of coffee produced in Mysore. Manufactures
in India.
Manufactures in Mysore.
Endeavours by the Dewan to develop the iron wealth of the
province.
"The Mysore and Coorg Directory." Value of the Dewan's annual
addresses in the Representative Assembly.
The Dewan's efforts to promote improvements of all kinds.
European settlers favourably received by officials of all
classes.
Hints as to representing any matter to a Government official.
Native officials are polite and obliging.
CHAPTER II.--THE SCENERY AND WATERFALLS OF MYSORE.
General description of the Mysore country.
The climate. A healthy one for Europeans.
The beautiful scenery of the western borderlands.
The falls of Gairsoppa.
Height of the falls; difficulty of getting at them; the
Lushington, Lalgali, and Majod Falls might be visited-when on the
way to Gairsoppa Falls.
The best time for visiting the falls.
Description of the falls.
Startling sounds to be heard at the falls.
To the bottom of the gorge below the falls.
Wonderful combinations of sights and sounds.
The scene on the pool above the falls.
The beautiful moonlight effects.
A flying squirrel; a tiger bounding across the road.
The Cauvery Falls and the route to them.
General description of the falls.
The Gangana Chuckee Falls.
The Bar Chuckee Falls.
The Gairsoppa and Cauvery Falls contrasted.
Interesting bridges built by native engineers.
Leisure, solitude, and repose necessary to enjoy scenery.
CHAPTER III.--MYSORE--ITS GOVERNMENT AND REPRESENTATIVE ASSEMBLY.
The early history of Mysore.
The Hindoo and Mahometan lines.
The Hindoo line restored by us in 1799.
The insurrection of 1830.
The Maharajah deposed and the country in 1831 administered by the
British.
The State restored to native administration in 1881.
The people at first generally disliked the change; causes of
this.
Value of an admixture of Europeans in the Mysore service.
The alleged breach of good faith as regards conferring
appointments on natives in British territory.
The constitution of Mysore; terms on which it was transferred not
to native rule but to native administration.
Mysore as practically under British rule as any part of British
India.
After deducting sum allotted for Maharajah's personal
expenditure, the remaining revenues to be spent on public
purposes only.
The advantages possessed by settlers in Mysore.
The Mysore Representative Assembly.
The notification by which the Assembly was established, and the
system of nominating members.
Contrast between it and the Egyptian General Assembly of the
Legislative Council.
First meeting of the Assembly, Oct. 7th, 1881.
Rules of 1890 announcing a system of electing members in future.
My election in 1891 as a member of the Assembly.
Am appointed chairman of preliminary meetings.
Measures agreed to at the preliminary meetings.
Rules to regulate discussions in preliminary meetings.
Organization desired to be established; funds for working the
proposed organization.
The lady students of the Maharanee's College.
The Assembly formally opened; the Dewan's address.
Gold mines, railways, roads; interference of Madras Government
with proposed Mysore Irrigation Works.
Measure to promote digging of wells.
Value of the Assembly as a means of communicating intelligence
amongst the people.
Forests. Elephants. Female education.
The Archaeological Survey. The Census. The municipal elections.
Reform of religious and charitable institutions. An irregular
meeting of members.
A marriage law proposed. Great excitement caused thereby.
Proposal adjourned.
Proposal to store grain against times of famine.
Revenue should be remitted in full when there is no crop.
My speech in the Assembly as chairman of preliminary meetings.
Members called up in order to represent grievances and wants. The
marriage question again.
Influence of public opinion as regards age for consummation of
marriages.
Opinion of two native gentlemen as regards my speech.
An important concession gained by the representatives.
The admirable working of the Mysore Government. General
appreciation of the Dewan's administration.
Representatives have no power and do not want any. Causes of the
absence of any demand for parliamentary institutions such as
those in England.
Absence of general interest in the Assembly. Causes of this.
Great value of Assembly in bringing rulers and ruled together.
Such Assembly more necessary now than formerly. Causes of this.
The Indian Congress. Causes of the creation of.
Started in 1885 by a small number of the educated classes.
Seditious pamphlets circulated by the Congress.
Copies bought for the Athenaeum Club.
Mr. Dadabhai Naoroji, M.P. one of the sellers of the pamphlets.
Proceedings of the Congress legitimate till it fell under
guidance of Mr. Hume. Excuses for Mr. Dadabhai Naoroji.
The composition of the first and second Congresses.
The third Congress. The members desire to make the laws and
control the finances of India.
The Congress declares that as Indians in rural districts are not
qualified to elect members, these should be elected by an
electoral college composed of the flower of the educated classes.
As the desired powers are not likely to be obtained in India, the
people of England must be made to believe that India is being
misgoverned.
The Congress' schemes for bringing about a revolution in India.
Native volunteers to be enrolled to bring pressure to bear on the
Government. The Repeal of the Arms Act demanded.
The seditious pamphlets issued by the Congress.
The sums of money collected with the aid of the pamphlets.
Opinions of Congress that natives are wanting in the qualities
necessary for governing India.
CHAPTER IV.--NATURAL HISTORY AND SPORT.
The advantages and pleasures of big game shooting.
Comparative risks from tigers, bears, and panthers.
Boars and other wild animals more dangerous now than formerly.
Advantages of this for sportsmen.
The natural history of Mysore.
Elephants. Tigers much more numerous in former times in Mysore.
In a short time 118 caught in traps. Remarkable cessation of such
captures. The balance of nature destroyed.
The spread of intelligence amongst wild animals. Tiger passes.
Difference of opinion as to how tigers seize their prey.
The use of the paw in killing animals and people.
The carrying powers of tigers and panthers.
Reasons for not sitting on the ground when tiger shooting.
Illustration of risk of sitting on the ground.
Caution should be exercised when approaching a tiger supposed to
be dead.
Another illustration of the risk of sitting on the ground.
Illustration of the importance of sitting motionless when obliged
to sit on the ground.
An exciting rush after a wounded tiger.
Coolness and courage exhibited by a native.
Estimate of danger of tiger shooting on foot. Should not be
pursued by those whoso lives are of cash value to their families.
People killed by wounded tigers. Difficulty of seeing a tiger in
the jungle.
Distinguishing sight of natives superior to that of Europeans.
Tigers easily recover from wounds.
Effects on the nerves and heart from the roar of a wounded tiger.
Precautions that should be exercised by sportsmen with damaged
hearts.
The lame tiger. Met in the road at night.
Tying out live baits for tigers.
Interesting instance of tiger stalking up to a live bait.
Another illustration of risk of approaching a tiger apparently
dead.
Importance of using a chain when tying out a bait. Sport spoiled
from a chain not being used.
Tigers eat tigers sometimes. Illustration of this.
The tiger's power of ascending trees.
Interesting instance of a jackal warning tigers of danger.
Tiger put to flight by the rearing of a horse.
Effect on a tiger of the human voice. Tigers often undecided how
to act.
Tigers form plans and act in concert. Illustration of this.
Tigers of Western Ghaut forests, if unmolested, rarely dangerous
to man.
Very dangerous man-eating tigers have existed in the interior of
Mysore. Man-eaters enter villages. A tiger tearing off the thatch
of a hut.
Great courage and determination shown by natives in connection
with tigers. Illustrations of this.
The life of a planter saved by a dog attacking the tiger.
Interesting behaviour of the dog after Mr. A. was wounded.
Treatment of wounds from tigers. A native recovers from thirteen
lacerated wounds and two on the head.
A mad tiger. Position of body that should be adopted when waiting
for a tiger. Importance of this.
Tiger purring with evident satisfaction after having killed a
man.
CHAPTER V.--BEARS, PANTHERS, JUNGLE DOGS, SNAKES, JUNGLE PETS.
Bear has two cubs at a time. Bears rapidly decreasing. Said by
natives to be killed and eaten by tigers. Instances of tigers
killing bears.
Bears dreaded by natives more than any animal in the jungle.
Probable cause of their often attacking people. Illustration of
this.
Attacked by an unwounded and unprovoked bear.
If suddenly attacked by an animal at close quarters rush towards
it.
Wanton attacks made by bears on people. Approaching caves and
getting bears out of them.
Great value of stink balls.
How not to attempt to get a bear out of a cave. Am caught by a
hill fire.
Amusing incident at a bear's cave. A man wounded.
Value of having a good dog when out bear shooting. Am knocked
down by a bear.
Panthers. Should be hunted with dogs.
Panther probably feigning death. A man killed.
The wild boar the most daring animal in the jungles. Illustration
in point.
The great power of the wild boar. My manager charged by one.
Boars make shelters for themselves in the rains. The flesh of the
boar not a safe food.
Jungle dogs. Said by natives to kill tigers.
The use, said by the natives to be made by the dogs, of their
acrid urine.
A cross between the jungle and the domestic dog.
Curious incident connected with jungle dogs.
Great increase of jungle dogs. A reward should be offered for
their destruction.
Many reported deaths from snake bites probably poisoning cases.
Reasons in support of this view. From 1855 to 1893 only one death
from snake bite in my neighbourhood.
The cobra not an aggressive snake. Unless hurt or provoked will
probably never bite. Illustrations in support of this view.
Snakes keep a good look out. Tigers and snakes run away.
Many snakes are harmless, and some useful.
Wild animals probably require to be taught by their parents to
dread man.
A tame stag. A tame flying squirrel.
A tame hornbill.
Probable cause of pets not caring to rejoin their wild congeners.
Some remarks on guns. The Paradox.
CHAPTER VI.--BISON SHOOTING.
Unless molested the bison never attacks man.
An attempt to photograph a solitary bull.
Description of the bison.
Height of bull bison. Account of an interesting friendship
between a tame sambur deer and a bull bison.
Bison are often attacked by tigers.
Interesting instance of a tiger stalking up to a solitary bull.
The tiger and bull knocked over right and left.
Precautions that should be taken when following up a wounded
bull.
A tracker killed by a bull. Following a wounded bull.
Stalking up to a herd. The value of peppermint lozenges.
How a wounded bull may be lost.
The value of a dog when following up a wounded bull.
Wonderful bounding power of the bison. A narrow escape from a
charging bull.
Special Act required for preservation of cow bison.
CHAPTER VII.--GOLD.
The earliest tradition as regards gold in Mysore.
Explanation of gold being found on the ears of corn. Lieutenant
Warren's investigations in 1800.
Native methods of procuring gold by washing and mining.
Depths to which old native pits were sunk.
Probable cause of the cessation of mining at considerable depths.
In 1873 leave first given to a European to mine for gold.
Remarkable absence in Mysore of old records or inscriptions
relating to gold mining.
Mr. Lavelle in 1873 applied for right to mine in Kolar.
Of the mines subsequently started all practically closed in 1882,
except the Mysore mine, which began to get gold in end of 1884.
Had the Mysore Company not persevered the Kolar field would
probably have been closed. Depths to which mines have been sunk.
The Champion Lode.
General description of the Kolar field. Notes by a lady resident.
Life on the field. Gardening. Visitors from England.
The volunteers at the mines. Sport near the field.
Servants and supplies. Elevation and the climate. A healthy one.
Mining and the extraction of gold.
The rates of wages. No advances given to labourers.
Expenditure by the companies in Mysore in wages. Consequential
results therefrom on the prosperity of the people.
Measures which the State should take to encourage the opening of
new mines.
Royalty on mines that are not paying should be reduced or
abolished. Act required to check gold stealing.
Some summary process should be adopted to check gold thefts.
Want of water on the field. Measures proposed for conserving it.
The want of tree planting. Other auriferous tracts in Mysore. Mr.
R. Bruce Foote's report.
Brief analysis of Mr. Bruce Foote's report on the various
auriferous tracts. The central group of auriferous rocks.
The west-central group.
The western group. Expects that many other old abandoned workings
will be discovered in the jungly tracts.
An inexhaustible supply of beautiful porphyry near Seringapatam
and close to a railway.
CHAPTER VIII.--CASTE.
Valuable to rural populations.
My inquiry limited to its rural and practical effects on life.
Its moral effects as regards the connection of the sexes.
Its value in limiting the use of alcohol.
Morality in Manjarabad superior to that of England.
Widows may contract a kind of marriage. The value of caste in
socially segregating inferior from superior races.
The mental value of the separation caused by caste.
The separation caused by caste has not hindered advancement
amongst the rural population. The Coorgs an instance of this.
Disadvantages of caste as regards town populations.
Instances of the evils of caste amongst the higher classes in the
towns.
Inquiry as to how far caste has acted beneficially in opposing
the existing interpretation of Christianity.
Worthlessness of pure dogmas when adopted by a degraded people.
Native Christians readily revert to devil worship in cases of
danger or sickness.
Native Christians neither better nor worse than the low-classes
from which they are usually drawn. Experience of the Abbe Dubois.
The upper class peasantry having to give up caste would be
injured by being converted.
The town population would not be injured by conversion.
Causes of the outcry against caste.
Its alleged tendencies.
The way to retain the good and lessen the evil of caste.
To become a Christian our missionaries compel the entire
abandonment of caste. Their version of Christianity wisely
rejected.
Mischievous action of our missionaries as regards caste. Their
erroneous views a bar to the progress of Christianity.
Bishop Heber's "Letter on Caste."
Bishop Wilson's fatal "Circular" requiring absolute abandonment
of caste by Christians.
Secession of native Christians in consequence of the "Circular."
Erroneous views contained in the Report of the Madras
Commissioners.
Views of the Tanjore missionaries as regards caste.
Mr. Schwartz's opinions.
The Tanjore missionaries not unfavourable to the retention of
caste by their converts.
Inquiry into the origin of caste.
No connection between caste and idolatry. They may and do exist
apart.
Caste as it exists in Ceylon.
The way in which caste probably did originate.
The Jews a strictly guarded caste.
Caste difficulties as regards taking the Sacrament.
Its sanitary advantages.
Caste no bar to the exercise of hospitality and charity.
Advantages of caste in increasing hospitality and charity.
Caste has a levelling as well as a keeping down tendency.
Instances of people rising into a superior caste.
Rigidity of caste laws much exaggerated. They vary in different
places. Occasional violations of caste law condoned. Remarkable
instance of this.
Infringement of caste when out tiger shooting.
Instance of variation in caste law. Caste apt to be made the
scapegoat of every Indian difficulty.
Mr. Pope's remarks on the effects of caste.
Mr. Raikes's remarks on the evil effects of caste. Thinks that it
is the cause of infanticide.
Instance to show that infanticide can exist amongst people free
from caste. Polyandrous habits not necessarily a cause of
infanticide.
Summary of principal conclusions arrived at.
Curious customs of the Marasa Wokul tribe in Mysore.
The effect of caste on the transmission of acquired aptitudes.
CHAPTER IX.--COFFEE PLANTING IN COORG.
Description and the history of Coorg.
Conquered and annexed by us in 1834. My first visit to Coorg in
1857. The pioneer planters.
Planting without shade caused the failure of many of the
plantations.
After shade was introduced coffee flourished.
European and native plantations. Their number and the probable
yield from them. Expenditure per acre.
The kinds of manure used. Experiments by an analytical chemist.
Proportions of manure varied according to the condition of the
coffee. The time in which manure should be applied. Applications
of burnt earth.
Widespread results arising from the expenditure on plantations in
Coorg.
Rates of wages, and system of procuring labourers. Leaf disease
and Borer.
Remedies experimented on as regards leaf disease and Borer.
Primary cause of the existence of so much Borer. The terms on
which Government lands are sold for planting.
Reasons why certain of the reserved State forests should be given
out for planting.
Cinchona and Ceara rubber planting tried and abandoned. Coffee
seed introduced from Brazil, and other countries, without any
apparent advantage. Liberian coffee tried experimentally.
The capital spent on labour and the consequential results of this
on agriculture. My visit to Coorg in 1891.
The route from Mysore. The coffee works at Hunsur. Interesting
adventure with a panther.
To Mr. Rose's estate near Polibetta. Description of Bamboo
district.
Life in the Bamboo district. The club, church, and co-operative
store.
Visits to plantations. Left for Mercara.
The Retreat. Mr. Meynell's house. Its kitchen arrangements, etc.
Mr. Mann's coffee garden at Mercara. The large profits from it.
To the Hallery estate six miles from Mercara.
Visits to several estates. To the Coovercolley estate. Mr.
Mangles's.
Left Coovercolley for Manjarabad in Mysore.
General observations on coffee planting in Coorg. Its flourishing
condition. More attention should be paid to shade.
Defects as regards shade. More attention to it would lessen
Borer.
Manures used on the best kept up estates.
The profits that may be expected from good, well-managed estates.
The great want of a Game Preservation Act.
CHAPTER X.--COFFEE PLANTING IN MYSORE.
An agreeable life for an active intelligent man who must work
somewhere.
Qualities necessary to make a successful planter.
The work not hard. The climate agreeable and healthy. The
elevation of the coffee districts above sea level.
The changes that may be taken in the slack season by planters.
The durability of well-shaded plantations.
Shaded plantations a very permanent property. The profits of
coffee. Case of an estate bought with borrowed money.
Analysis of yield, expenses, and profits on a Manjarabad estate.
Probable profits on estates in the northern part of Mysore.
From want of information coffee plantations in Mysore not
saleable at good prices. Failure of coffee in Ceylon. This gave
coffee generally an undeservedly bad name.
Early notices of coffee in India. Its early history in Mysore.
Failure of the variety of coffee first introduced.
The successful introduction of the Coorg variety of coffee.
Mysore coffee fetches the highest price in the London market.
Original Mysore coffee land tenures.
The new Coffee Land Rules introduced in 1885.
In the south of Mysore all coffee land probably taken up. In
north, land reported to be still available. Planters well
satisfied with the Government.
Advances to labourers. Legislation as regards them much needed.
Proposed measure to meet the advances to labourers difficulty.
Legislation required to amend the extraditions laws.
The New Cattle Trespass Act. The want of a Wild Birds' Protection
Act. The neglect of game preservation.
In consequence of game destruction tigers forced to prey heavily
on village cattle. Great losses in consequence.
Cruelty of native hunters. Evidences of extermination of game
birds.
The want of a Government Agricultural Chemist. The discovery of a
new hybrid coffee plant.
Enormous yield from it.
CHAPTER XI.--SHADE.
General remarks on the importance of shade.
The governing principle as regards shade for coffee.
The most desirable kinds of shade trees. Those of less desirable
kinds.
The Jack. Its merits and defects.
The Atti. Good when young, less desirable when old.
The Noga. The objections to relying on this tree.
Other kinds of less desirable shade trees.
_Albizzia Moluccana._ Said to be a valuable tree for shade.
Methods adopted when forming a shaded plantation.
Great advantages of clearing without burning the forest.
The order in which shade trees should be planted.
The young shade trees require shade. The charcoal tree a good
nurse.
The management of young shade trees.
The evils arising from excessive trimming of side branches of
shade trees. Planting under the shade of the original forest
trees.
The value of leaving marginal belts of forest. The danger of a
running fire.
The quantity of shade required for varying aspects and gradients.
The great differences between northern and southern aspects as
regards heat.
Western and eastern aspects.
Importance of attending to the gradients, the quality of the
soil, and its exposure to drying winds.
Elevation and rainfall govern quantity of shade that should be
kept. The thinning, and lopping lower boughs of shade trees.
Much knowledge and experience required in judicious thinning.
More shade will be required as trees become lofty.
Importance of at once planting up spots where shade is deficient,
in order to keep out the Borer insect.
Planting out young shade trees. The removal of parasites from
shade trees.
Preparation of shade tree cuttings before planting out. How to
grow young charcoal-tree plants. Valuable as nurses.
CHAPTER XII.--MANURE.
How shade complicates the economical and effective manuring of
coffee.
Bulk manures as a rule should not be applied to land directly
under shade trees, but to more open spaces.
Less manure should be applied to coffee directly under shade
trees.
Manure should be varied on different aspects. The quantity that
should be annually supplied.
Bones may be seldom used if lime is regularly applied.
A considerable amount of manure required even though the loss
from crops is small.
A test of land being sufficiently supplied with manure. The
quantity of manure probably required.
The quantity of manure that should be put down at a time.
Danger from over-manuring, especially in ease of light soils.
Ridges should be more heavily manured than hollows. The time of
year when manures should be applied.
Advantages of manuring at the end of the monsoon.
Bearing that the time of applying manures has on leaf disease.
Mr. Marshall Ward's remarks as to this.
The various methods of applying manures.
In the case of steep land the manure should be buried in
trenches. Farmyard manure. Its great value for coffee.
Substitutes for farmyard manure.
Value of forest land top soil as a manure, and as a substitute
for farmyard manure.
The comparative cost of farmyard manure and top soil. Remarkable
result from an application of pink-coloured soil.
If top soil costs the same as farmyard manure the former is
better. Reasons for this being so. A compost of pink soil and
manures may be made, which will equal good farmyard manure, and
cost but little more.
The manurial value of pulp, and of dry fallen leaves.
Manurial value of green twigs of trees, ferns and wood ashes.
Night soil. Lime.
Bonedust. Fish manure.
Oil-cakes. Proportion of phosphate of lime in castor cake.
Nitrates of potash and soda.
Potash. A manure of doubtful value in the case of Mysore soils.
Attempt to ascertain value of potash as a manure for coffee.
How to grow young plants in old soils. Coprolites, discovery of,
in Mysore.
An agricultural chemist wanted for the province. A careful record
should be kept of manure applied.
Bringing round a neglected plantation. Steps that should be
taken.
Manurial experiments.
Native manurial practises should be studied. Application of
various soils as top dressing by native cultivators. The best and
most economical way of manuring coffee has yet to be discovered.
Manurial experiments need not be costly.
CHAPTER XIII.--NURSERIES, TOPPING, HANDLING, PRUNING, ETC.
The selection of seed.
Irrigated coffee near Bangalore. Mr. Meenakshia's gardens. The
selection of a site for a nursery.
The best time for putting down the seed.
Plants should be grown in baskets. The pits for vacancy plants.
Topping. The best heights for.
The time when trees should be topped.
Handling and the removal of suckers. Its importance as regards
rot and leaf disease.
Pruning.
Management of pruning, with reference to rot and leaf disease.
The removal of moss and rubbing down the trees. The cultivation
of the soil.
Difficulties connected with the proper cultivation of the soil.
The best tools for digging. Renovation pits.
Renovation pits valuable as water-holes. Their value in
connection with water conservation.
CHAPTER XIV.--THE DISEASES OF COFFEE.
Leaf disease, or attacks of _Hemeleia Vastatrix_.
Mr. Marshall Ward's report on leaf disease in Ceylon. Leaf
disease probably always existed in Mysore. Said to have caused
much loss on some estates.
Losses of leaves from other causes commonly attributed to leaf
disease. No reason to fear it if land is well cultivated,
manured, and shaded. Evidence that shade can control leaf
disease.
Bad kinds of shade trees cannot control, but increase leaf
disease.
Conditions under which leaf disease is liable to occur in the
cases of good soil under good shade trees.
The importance of manure and cultivation with reference to leaf
disease. Mr. Graham Anderson's, Mr. Marshall Ward's and Mr.
Brooke Mockett's opinions. The Coorg plant not so liable to be
attacked as the Chick plant.
The Borer insect.
Borer is worst under bad kinds of shade trees, but can be
controlled by good caste trees.
Conditions favorable to attacks of the Borer.
Reasons for thinking that the usual practice of destroying all
bored trees is of little use.
The Borer can only be suppressed by adequate shade. Rot, or
_pellicularia koleroga_. Aggravated by want of free circulation
of air.
Measures for lessening rot. Importance of meeting monsoon with
mature leaves on the coffee trees.
Green-bugs. None in Mysore, Receipt for killing them used on
Nilgiri Hills.
CHAPTER XV.--THE SELECTION OF LAND FOR PLANTATIONS, AND THE VALUATION OF
COFFEE PROPERTY.
Much uncleared land available in northern part of Mysore.
The various classes of forest lands.
Much land unsuitable from over heavy rainfall. Mr. Graham
Anderson's return of rainfall. His interesting memorandum.
Elevation of plantations above sea level. With a few exceptions
not much difference in value of the coffee of various estates.
The especial importance of aspect in Mysore.
The most favourable gradients. Various kinds of soil.
Comparative healthiness of the different coffee districts in
Mysore.
Various considerations to be taken into account when valuing
land.
An old established estate may not necessarily be an old
plantation.
The quality of the shade ought largely to affect a valuation of a
property.
Facilities that should be considered when valuing a property.
Impossible to offer opinion as to value of coffee property, till
facts as regard it are widely known, and the line is opened to
western coast.
CHAPTER XVI.--HOW TO MAKE AN ESTATE PAY, AND THE ORDER OF THE WORK.
Inferior parts of estates should be thrown out of cultivation.
The losses caused by giving advances.
Advances not so necessary as formerly, as labour rates are higher
now.
Advances to Maistries to bring labour.
Minor sources of loss. The order in which the various works
should be performed.
CHAPTER XVII.--THE MANAGEMENT OF ABSENTEE ESTATES.
"The fact is, we all require a little looking after."
Advisable to give manager an interest in the estate. Managers for
estates in Mysore require to be very carefully selected.
A clear understanding essential between proprietor and manager.
Powers of attorney should be carefully drawn up. The proprietor
entirely in the power of the manager.
The value of the eye of the owner. Every estate should have an
information book.
Points to be entered in the information book.
Hints to managers.
CHAPTER XVIII.--THE PLANTER'S BUNGALOW AND THE AMENITIES OF AN ESTATE.
The best form of bungalow.
The kitchen arrangements.
The aspect of the bungalow and ground around it.
Cash value of the amenities of an estate. The flower garden.
Building materials.
How to keep out white ants.
Coolie lines.
Tree planting for timber and fuel.
Precautions for the conservation of health.
Hints as regards food, and the table generally.
Suggestions as to books and newspapers.
Importance of having some interesting pursuit.
The minor amenities of an estate.
The conditions of a planter's life now ameliorated by railways.
Mysore out of the reach of House of Commons faddists. Advantages
of this.
CHAPTER XIX.--THE INDIAN SILVER QUESTION.
On June 26th, 1893, gold standard introduced and mints closed to
free coinage of silver.
Movement originated in India by the servants of Government, and
from no other class whatever.
Some merchants afterwards joined in the agitation. Gold to be
received at the mints at a ratio of 1s. 4d. per rupee.
Sovereigns in payment of sums due to Government to be received at
the rate of fifteen rupees a sovereign.
Cash effects of the measure. For benefit of English reader
figures given in pounds sterling, a rupee taken at 2s. Rupee
prices little changed in India, China and Ceylon. Difficulty of
forming exact estimates as to this.
If gold value of silver can be forced up from 1s. 3d. to 1s.
4d., Indian Government will gain about one and a half million
sterling on its home remittances, and the people lose about seven
millions on their exports.
The Indian Finance Minister contemplates a rise to 1s. 6d.
eventually.
A rise to 1s. 6d. would give the Exchequer a gain on home
remittances of L4,500,000 and entail on the people a loss
L21,000,000, equal to a tax of 21 per cent. on the exports of
India. Effects of this on the producers.
The producers of coffee in Mysore alone would lose L56,000 a year
were exchange forced up to 1s. 4d., and L156,000 a year were it
raised to 1s. 6d. All producers in other parts of India of
articles of export would be similarly affected.
If the rupee is artificially forced up by the State, the shock to
confidence will repel capital and injure credit. The first effect
will show itself in a lessened demand for labour.
The effects of increased employment on the finances. The bearing
of the measure on famines and scarcity. It will intensify the
effects of both, and make them more costly to the State.
The measure has arrayed all classes against the Government,
except its own servants and a very few of the merchants.
The effects of the measure on the tea-planters of India and
Ceylon. It must heavily affect both. If Ceylon establishes a
mint, tea-planters there will have advantages over their rivals
in India.
Coffee planters of India and Ceylon will he prejudicially
affected in their competition with silver-using countries. Evil
effects of the measure on the trade, manufactures, and railways
of India.
The measure rotten from financial, political, and economical
points of view.
The Viceroy and the supporters of the measure have admitted that
it must be injurious to the producers of India. Sir William
Hunter's admirable survey of the former and present financial
condition of India.
The Viceroy has publicly declared that cheap silver has acted as
"a stimulus" to the progress of India.
The unfair action of Lord Herschell's Committee. Not a single
representative of the producing classes examined. But the
majority of witnesses were dead against the monetary policy of
the Government. The Currency Committee reported against the
weight of the evidence. The most important points not inquired
into at all by the Committee.
The Indian Government and Currency Committee financially
panic-stricken, and in dread of effects of repeal of Sherman Act.
The financial condition not such as to warrant panic. Taxational
resources not exhausted.
Sir William Hunter's statement proves that the financial
conditions were full of hope. The dread that the repeal of the
Sherman Act might reduce rupee to 1s. Examination of the
subject on that supposition.
By a rate of 1s. a rupee the Government would lose about seven
millions on its home remittances, and the people of India gain
fourteen millions on their exports. Mr. Gladstone's Government
adopted Home Rule Bill, and Currency Measure in one year. Both
forced on by tyrannical action. Gladstonian action as to Opium
Commission equally tyrannical.
The monetary measure a policy of protection for the benefit of
the silver-using countries that compete with India.
Some of the evils the measure, if successful, must cause. The
Indian Finance Minister declared that "it ought not to be
attempted unless under the pressure of necessity." No necessity
arisen. An independent body wanted to efficiently check the
Government. The Duke of Wellington's opinion.
India and Mexico compared. Mr. Carden's Consular Report.
Cheap silver advantageous to Mexico. The losses to the Government
and railways which arise from gold payments are, comparatively
speaking, a fixed quantity, while the gain to the people from
cheap silver, produces consequential benefits far beyond reach of
calculation. These remarks equally applicable to India. Wanted, a
Government that can see this.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTORY.--PROGRESS IN MYSORE.
As I now turn my thoughts back to the year 1855, when, being then in my
eighteenth year, I sailed for India to seek my fortunes in the jungles of
Mysore, it is difficult to believe that the journey is still the same, or
that India is still the same country on the shores of which I landed so
long ago. But after all, as a matter of fact, the journey is, practically
speaking, not the same, and still less is India the same India which I
knew in 1855. For the route across Egypt, which was then partly by rail,
partly by water, and partly across the desert in transits, the bumping of
which I even now distinctly remember, has been exchanged for the Suez
Canal, and the frequent steamers with their accelerated rate of speed have
altered all the relations of distances, and on landing at Bombay the
traveller of 1855 would now find it difficult to recognize the place. For
then there were the old fort walls and ditches, and narrow streets filled
with a straggling throng of carts and people, while now the fort walls and
ditches no longer exist, and the traveller drives into a city with public
buildings, broad roads and beautiful squares and gardens, that would do
credit to any capital in the world, and sees around him all the signs of
advanced and advancing civilization. Then as, perhaps, he views the scene
from the Tower of the Elphinstone College, and looks down on the
beautiful city, on the masts of the shipping lying in the splendid
harbour, and on the moving throngs of people to whom we have given peace
and order, what thoughts must fill his mind! And what thoughts further, as
on turning to view the scene without the city he sees on one side of it
the tall chimneys of the numerous mills which have sprung up in recent
times, and which tell of the conjunction of English skill and capital with
the cheap hand-labour of the East--a combination that is destined, and at
no very distant period ahead, to produce remarkable effects. But I must
not wander here into the consideration of matters to which I shall again
have occasion to refer when I come to remark on the wonderful progress
made in India in recent years owing to the introduction of English skill
and capital, and shall now briefly describe my route to the western
jungles of Mysore.
When I landed in Bombay, in 1855, the journey to the Native State of
Mysore, now so easy and simple, was one requiring much time and no small
degree of trouble, for the railway lines had then advanced but little--the
first twenty miles in all India having been only opened near Bombay in
1853. A land journey then was not to be thought of, and as there were no
coasting-steamers, I was compelled to take a passage in a Patama (native
sailing craft) which was proceeding down the western coast with a cargo of
salt which was stowed away in the after-part of the vessel. Over this was
a low roofed and thatched house, the flooring of which was composed of
strips of split bamboo laid upon the salt. On this I placed my mattress
and bedding. My provisions for the voyage were very simple--a coop with
some fowls, some tea, sugar, cooking utensils, and other small necessaries
of life. A Portuguese servant I had hired in Bombay cooked my dinner and
looked after me generally. We sailed along the sometimes bare, and
occasionally palm-fringed, shores with that indifference to time and
progress which is often the despair and not unfrequently the envy of
Europeans. The hubble-bubble passed from mouth to mouth, and the crew
whiled away the evening hours with their monotonous chants. We always
anchored at night; sometimes we stopped for fishing, and once ran into a
small bay--one of those charming scenic gems which can only be found in
the eastern seas--to land some salt and take in cocoa-nuts and other
items. As for the port of Mangalore, for which I was bound, it seemed to
be, though only about 450 miles from Bombay, an immense distance away, and
practically was nearly as far as Bombay is from Suez. At last, after a
nine days' sail, we lay to off the mouth of the harbour into which, for
reasons best known to himself, the captain of the craft did not choose to
enter, and I was taken ashore in a canoe to be kindly received by the
judge of the collectorate of South Kanara, to whom I had a letter of
introduction.
After spending some pleasant days at Mangalore I set out for Manjarabad,
the talook or county which borders on the South Kanara district--in what
is called a manshiel--a kind of open-sided cot slung to a bamboo pole
which projects far enough in front and rear to be placed with ease on the
shoulders of the bearers. Four of these men are brought into play at once,
while four others run along to relieve their fellows at intervals. I
started in the afternoon, and was carried up the banks of a broad river by
the side of which hero and there the road wound pleasantly along. In the
course of a few hours night fell, and then all nature seemed to come into
active life with the hum of insects, the croaking of frogs, and various
other indications of an abounding animal life. Presently I was lulled to
sleep by the monotonous chant of the bearers--sleep only partially broken
when changes of the whole set of bearers had to be made--and awoke the
following morning to find myself some fifty miles from the coast, and
amidst the gorges of the Ghauts, with vast heights towering upwards, and
almost all around, while the river, which had now sunk to what in English
ideas would still seem to be one of considerable size, appeared as if it
had just emerged from the navel of a mountain-barrier some miles ahead.
After a few miles more we passed the last hamlet of what was then called
the Company's Country, and leaving the inhabited lands--if indeed in a
European sense they may be called so--behind us, began to ascend the
twenty miles of forest-clad gorges which lead up into the tableland of
Mysore. The ascent was necessarily slow, and it was not till late in the
afternoon that I saw, some 500 feet above me, and at a total elevation of
about 3,200 feet above sea-level, the white walls of the only planter's
bungalow in the southern part of Mysore. To this pioneer of our
civilization--Mr. Frederick Green, who had begun work in 1843--I had a
letter of introduction, and was most kindly received, and put in the way
of acquiring land which I started on and still hold. To the south, in the
adjacent little province of Coorg--now, as we shall afterwards see, an
extensive coffee-field--the first European plantation had been started the
year before, i.e., 1854, while to the north some fifty to seventy miles
away the country was, in a European sense, occupied by only three English,
or, to be exact, Scotch planters. In 1856 I started active life as a
planter on my own account, about twelve miles away from the estate of Mr.
Green, while in the same year two other planters--Scotchmen by the
way--made their appearance. The southern part of Mysore was thus occupied
by four planters, and we were all about twelve miles from each other. It
is difficult to conceive the state of isolation in which we lived, and as
we were all Europeanly speaking single handed, and could seldom leave
home, we often had not for weeks together an opportunity of seeing a
single white face, and so rare indeed was a visit from a neighbour that,
when one was coming to see me, I used to sit on a hill watching for the
first glimpse of him, like a shipwrecked mariner on a desert island
watching for the glimpse of a sail on the horizon. As for the Indian
mutinies, which broke out the year after I had started work, they might
have been going on in Norway as far as we were concerned; none of us at
all appreciated the importance and gravity of the events that were
occurring, and one of my neighbours said that it was not worth while
trying to understand the situation, and that we had better wait for the
book that would be sure to come out when things had settled down. And the
native population around us appeared to know as little of the mutinies as
we did. They seemed to be aware that some disturbance was going on
somewhere in the north, and that represented the whole extent of their
knowledge of the subject.
I have described our life as having been one of great isolation so far as
European society was concerned, but I never felt it to be a dull one, nor
did my neighbours ever complain of it, though we only took a holiday of a
few weeks in the year. But we had plenty of work, and big game shooting,
and the occupation was an interesting one, and as I even now return with
pleasure every winter to my planter's life, this proves that my earlier
days must have left behind them many pleasant associations. And the
occupation and sport were really all we had to depend on. We had few
books, nor any means of getting them, for I need hardly say that pioneer
planters, who have to keep themselves and their coffee till the latter
comes into bearing, cannot afford to buy anything that can be dispensed
with. But after all this perhaps was no disadvantage, for, as a great
moral philosopher has pointed out, nothing tends to weaken the resources
of the mind so much as a miscellaneous course of reading unaccompanied (as
it usually is, I may remark) by reflection. The management of people, the
business of an estate, the exercise of the inventive powers, the
cultivation of method, the sharpening of the observing and combining
faculties, which are so well developed by big game shooting, yield real
education, or the leading out and development of the mental resources,
while books provide the individual merely with instruction which has often
a tendency to cramp and even to fossilize the mind.
I have said at the outset, that the journey to India is not the same as it
was in 1855, and that still less is India the same India, and I may
certainly say that still less is Western Mysore the Western Mysore of
1855, except that its beautiful scenery is as beautiful as ever. For our
planting is not like that of Ceylon, where the planter, like the locust,
finds a paradise in front to leave a desert in his rear--a desert of bare
lull sides from which the beautiful forest has been entirely swept away,
while the most valuable constituents of the soil have been washed down to
the river beds. And when standing in 1893 on a lull in my district of
Manjarabad, and looking around, I can see no sign of change in the
landscape from the days of 1855, except that the woodland paths leading
from village to village are much more distinctly marked, owing to the
great increase of labourers employed in the numerous native and European
plantations, which now stretch in an unbroken line along all the western
border of Mysore. And no sign of change is apparent, because all the
coffee is planted either under the shade of the original forest trees, or
under the shade of trees which have been planted to take their place. But
all else is practically and largely changed by the agency of a universal
progress, which has been brought about by British government and the
introduction of British capital, skill, and energy. And this progress, I
am glad to be able to say, has benefited all classes of the community, and
the labouring classes by far the most of all, and the results as regards
those are so striking, so interesting, and so much more widely diffused
than could at first sight be thought possible, and are, as I shall show,
of such vast importance to the finances of the State, that they are well
worthy of special attention. Had the Government been aware of the enormous
financial value to the State of the introduction of English capital, I
feel sure that much greater efforts would have been made to stimulate
European enterprise, and that the progress of India would have been much
accelerated all along the line.
When I started my plantation in 1858, the pay of a labourer was 2 rupees 4
annas (4s. 6d.) a month. It is now, throughout the numerous plantations
in Mysore, from six to seven rupees a month, and a labourer can live on
about two rupees a month. Such a statement made of any country would
indicate a satisfactory degree of progress; but whereas in England it
would simply mean a greater ability in the working classes to live in an
improved condition, and perhaps some improvement in the condition of the
shopkeepers with whom they dealt, in India it means the creation of a
social and ever wide-spreading revolution. For when in India capital is
introduced, and employment on a large scale is afforded to the people, the
poorer of the peasant classes are at once able to free themselves from
debt, and the labourers soon save enough money to enable them to start in
agriculture, coffee culture, or any culture within, their reach. The
result of this, in my experience, has been most remarkable. When I started
in Manjarabad, for instance, the planters relied solely on labour procured
from the adjacent villages. But now the local labourer is almost a thing
of the past, for he has taken to agriculture and coffee culture, and now
only occasionally works for a short time to earn some money to pay his
taxes. When this change began, the planters had of course to go further
afield for labour, but merely to produce over again a similar result by
enabling labourers from distant villages to do what the local labourers in
the coffee districts had done, and thus for labour we have to operate on
ever-widening circles, till at last I have heard it remarked that the
Kanarese language is often of little use, and the native overseers on my
estate have complained that they now often cannot make the labourers
understand them. And this of course is not surprising, as at one moment
the overseer may have to deal with labourers from any one of the villages
between Mysore and the Western Sea, and at another with people from
villages in the Madras Presidency, far away on the route to the Bay of
Bengal. Field after field, and village after village, has thus been
irrigated by that capital for which India thirsts, and which, as we have
seen, produces such wide-spreading social effects on the welfare of the
people, and, consequently, on the resources of the State--enabling land to
be more largely and fully developed, wells to be dug, gardens to be made,
and the people to pay with greater ease the demands of the Government. But
there is yet another point of great importance to notice as regards the
introduction into India of European capital, with its accompanying
effects--effects which largely enhance its value--namely, those arising
from setting the natives practical examples of both method, skill, and
energetic action. I allude to the bearing of these forces upon famine--a
subject well worthy of some passing remarks, more especially because in
Mysore we can furnish proofs of the value in times of famine of having
Europeans settled in the country.
The actual money value of the infuse of English capitalists, and its
bearing on the resources of the State, and in enabling the people the
better to contest with famine and scarcity, is sufficiently apparent, but
it was only when the terrible famine of 1876-77 (which cost Mysore the
loss of about a fifth of its population, an immense sum of money, and
crippled its resources for years) broke out that the value of having a
European agency ready at hand to grapple with famine, and honestly
administer the funds available, was absolutely proved. It would be tedious
to go into this subject at any length, indeed I have not space to do so,
and I can only say that, as far as I could learn, the only satisfactory
treatment of the great famine was that initiated and carried out by the
planters, or, to be at once just and exact, I should rather say that the
system adopted was initiated by one of our leading planters--Mr. Graham
Anderson--who, and entirely at his own cost, was the first to start and
maintain on his estate a nursery for children. He saw that if the parents
could only be relieved of their children the former could work and be able
to maintain themselves, while all their efforts would be insufficient to
maintain at once themselves and their children. The nursery system that
was then initiated by Mr. Anderson, was adopted by other planters who were
subsequently aided by the assistance of money from the Mansion House Fund,
and Mr. Anderson was formally appointed by the Government as President of
the relief operations in the Southern Mysore coffee district, and, owing
to his energy, example, and administrative still, most satisfactory
results were obtained. I have before me, and written by Mr. Anderson, a
full account of all the famine relief operations he had charge of, showing
the assistance afforded by the planters in employing labour from which,
owing to the weakness of the people, very little return could be got; and
moreover by sheltering in their lines the wandering starvelings who were
moving about the country. I can only regret that want of space prevents my
going into the subject more in detail. I must, however, at least find room
for his concluding remarks, in order to deliver for him a message he has
long been desirous of sending to those of the English public who
subscribed to the Mansion House Fund.
"If there is one thing," writes Mr. Anderson, "I am certain of it is this,
that although some people think that natives have no gratitude, there has
never been anything concerning which the natives have been so loud in
their praise as the unbounded generosity of the London public, who in time
of fearful distress came forward with money to feed and clothe hundreds
and thousands of starving poor. Many a poor woman and man have asked me to
express blessings to 'the people of my village' who rescued them in their
dire distress. Perhaps you can give this message, which, as an outsider, I
have never had an opportunity of doing." I only wish I could add that the
gratitude of the Government was equal to that of the natives. Yes, Mr.
Graham Anderson was an outsider, and the Government (Mysore was under
British rule at the time) was evidently determined that he should remain
so in the fullest sense of the word, for he never even received a letter
of thanks for his valuable and gratuitous services, or the smallest notice
of any kind. I have no hesitation in praising most highly the action of
the planters, because, though one of them, I was not in India at the time,
and, though my estate manager took an early and active part in relief
operations, I had nothing personally to do with the famine relief work.
The subject of famines is of such vast importance to the people, the
Government, and all who have any stake in India, that I think it well to
offer here some remarks on them, and also suggest some measures for their
prevention, or perhaps I should rather say for their mitigation.
The causes that would lead to an increase of famines in India were fully
pointed out by me in 1871 in the "Experiences of a Planter," in letters to
the "Times," and in the evidence I gave when examined by the India
Finance Committee of the House of Commons in 1872. There were two
principal causes--the spread of the use of money instead of grain as a
medium of exchange, and such a restricted development of communications
that, while these were sufficient to drain the countries in the interior
of their grain, they were not sufficiently developed to enable the grain
to be brought back again in sufficient quantities when it was necessary to
do so in times of famine. Till, then, communications were developed to an
adequate extent, it was quite clear that India would be much more exposed
to risk from famines than she was in the days when grain was largely used
as a medium of exchange, and when, besides, grain, from the want of
communication, was largely kept in the country. The people, in short, in
the olden days, and even for some time after I landed in India, hoarded
grain, and in times of scarcity they encroached upon their supplies of
buried grain, whereas now they hoard money, which in time of famine can go
but a very short way in buying grain. The statement that an increase of
famines would be sure to ensue from the causes above indicated is amply
corroborated by the facts. There is no evidence to show that droughts have
increased, but there can be no doubt that in comparatively recent times
famines and scarcities have. And in looking over the list of famines from
1769 to 1877, I find that, comparing the first 84 years of the period in
question with the years from then up to 1877, famines have more than
doubled in number, and scarcities, causing great anxiety to the State,
seem certainly to be increasing. That the latter are so we have strong
evidence in Mysore, and in looking over the annual addresses of the Dewan
at the meeting of the Representative Assembly of Mysore, I am struck with
the frequent allusion to scarcities and grave apprehensions of famine. In
his address of 1881, only four years after the great famine of 1876-77,
the Dewan refers to "the period of intense anxiety through which the
Government and the people have passed owing to the recent failure of the
rains. But," he adds, "such occasional failure of rains is almost a normal
condition of the Province, and the Government must always remain in
constant anxiety as to the fearful results which must follow from them."
In his address of 1884 the Dewan says that "the condition of the Province
is again causing grave anxiety." In the address of 1886 the Dewan says
"this is the first year since the rendition of the Province (in 1881) in
which the prospects of the season have caused no anxiety to the
Government." But in the address of 1891 lamentations again occur, and we
find the Dewan congratulating the members on the narrow escape, owing to
rain having fallen just in time, they had had from famine. But our able
Dewan--Sir K. Sheshadri Iyer, K.C.I.E.--has taken measures which must
ultimately place the Province in a safe position, or at least in as safe a
position as it can be placed. He has seen, and it has been amply proved by
our experience in the Madras Presidency during the famine of 1876-77, that
the only irrigation work that can withstand a serious drought is a deep
well, and he has brought out a most admirable measure for encouraging the
making of them by the ryots. The principal features of this are that
money, to be repaid gradually over a long series of years, is to be
advanced by the State on the most easy terms, and that, in the event of a
ryot taking a loan, and water not being found, or found in inadequate
quantity, the Government takes upon itself the entire loss. But the
results from this highly liberal and valuable measure cannot be adequately
arrived at for many years to come, and in the meanwhile the risks from
famine go on, and as the Dewan has seen that these can only be immediately
grappled with by an extension of the railway system, he has always been,
anxious to make a line to the western frontier of Mysore, if the Madras
Government would agree to carry it on to Mangalore on the western coast.
But the Madras Government felt itself unable to find funds to carry out
the project, and hence Mysore, all along its western frontier, was, from a
railway point of view, completely imprisoned, and there seemed to be no
prospect of anything being done to connect the Province with the western
seaboard for many years to come. However, a Mysore planter last year
sought a personal interview with Viscount Cross, the Secretary of State
for India, who has always taken a great interest in railway extensions,
and the result of this was that Lord Cross initiated action which resulted
in prompt steps being taken. Early this year a preliminary survey of the
route from a point on the line in the interior of Mysore, _via_ the
Manjarabad Ghaut, to Mangalore was made, and I am in a position to state
that the completion of this much and long-wanted line may be regarded as a
thing of the near future. After this line has been made a line will be
constructed from Hassan to Mysore, _via_ Holi Nursipur, and Yedatora, and
from Mysore a line will be run, _via_ Nunjengode[2] to Erode, the junction
of the Madras and South Indian Railways. I may mention here that Sir
Andrew Clarke, in his able Minute of 1879 on Indian Harbours, says that
"Mangalore undoubtedly admits of being converted into a useful harbour,"
though he adds that "the project may lie over until the prospects of a
railway connecting it with the interior are better than at present." As
the immediate prospects of a line being made are quite secure, it is of
great importance to call attention to this matter now, as it is to the
manifest interest of both Governments that the harbour of Mangalore should
be improved as soon as possible.
After having done so much to contend against famine-producing causes, it
may seem that the Dewan might rest and be thankful; but it must be
considered that, though railways will undoubtedly enable the State to save
life, it will have to pay a ruinously heavy charge whenever a widespread
and serious drought occurs, and, sooner or later, it seems inevitable that
such a drought must occur. And it is therefore perfectly evident, that
without the extension of deep wells the province cannot be placed in a
thoroughly sound financial position. It is, then, of obvious importance to
remove at once the great obstacle that stands in the way of the rapid
addition to the number of deep wells. That obstacle, and a most formidable
obstacle it is, as I shall fully show, lies in the fact that the present
form of land tenure in Mysore (under which also about four-fifths of the
land of British India are held) does not provide a sufficient security for
investors in landed improvements. By the existing tenure the land is held
by the occupier from the State at a rental which is fixed for thirty
years, and after that it is liable to augmentation. The Government, it is
true, has declared that it will not tax improvements, and that, for
instance, if a man digs a well no augmentation of rent will be demanded
for the productive power thus added to the land, but it has reserved to
itself wide powers of enhancing the rent on general grounds, such as a
rise in prices, improved communication, etc., and to what amount the
enhancement may go the ryot cannot tell. And hence we find that the
representatives in the Mysore Assembly have repeatedly argued that it is
owing to the uncertainty as to what the rise of rent may be at the close
of each thirty years' period that improvements are not more largely made,
and have therefore prayed for a permanently fixed assessment. Now I am not
prepared to say that, for the present at any rate, it would be wise to
grant a fixed assessment on all lands, but I am quite sure that it would
be wise to grant, for the irrigable area watered by a well dug at an
occupier's expense, a permanent assessment at the rent now charged on the
land. The Government, it is true, would sacrifice the rise it might obtain
on the land at the close of each lease, but, as a compensation for
this--and an ample compensation I feel sure it would be--the State would
save in two ways, for it would never have to grant remissions of revenue
on such lands, as it now often has to do in the case of dry lands, and
with every well dug the expenditure in time of famine would be diminished.
Such a measure, then, as I have proposed, would at once benefit the State
and draw out for profitable investment much capital that is now lying
idle. There is nothing new, I may add, in this proposal, for it was
adopted by the old native rulers, who granted fixed tenures on favourable
terms to those making irrigation works at their own expense. An
English-speaking Mysore landholder once said to me, "I will not dig wells
on my lands under my present tenure, but give me an assessment fixed for
ever, and I will dig lots of wells." The present landed policy of the
Indian Government[3] is as shallow as it is hide-bound. It wants, like a
child, to eat its cake and still remain in possession of the article. It
is most anxious to see private capital invested in land, and it still
wants to retain the power of every thirty years indefinitely augmenting
the land revenue on general grounds. Surely it must be apparent to minds
of even the humblest calibre that these two things are utterly
incompatible!
I may mention that there is a strong party in India in favour of granting
at once a permanent assessment at the existing rate of rent for all lands,
and in reference to this point it may be interesting to give the following
passage from a letter I once received from the late Prime Minister of
Mysore, Mr. Rungacharlu, the minister who started the first Representative
Assembly that ever sat in India:
"As you know," he wrote, "I hold decided views on the subject, and the
withholding of the permanent assessment is a serious injury to the
extensive petty landed interests in the country, and is no gain whatever
to the Government. Nearly the whole population of the country are
agriculturists, and live in one way or another upon the cultivation of the
land. The effect of a permanent settlement will therefore create a greater
feeling of security, and to encourage the outlay of capital and labour on
land will be beneficial to the entire population. It will thus be quite a
national measure reaching all, and not in the interests of a few, and is
calculated to develop the capabilities of the land to the utmost. The
prospect of the Government ever being benefited by the reservation of an
increase of assessment on the unearned increment is a mere dream. Such
increase is sure to be resisted or evaded, occasioning meanwhile great
discontent. The Government may confidently look to the development of
other sources of revenue from the increased prosperity of the people."
But whether the best remedy lies in granting, as I have proposed, a fixed
assessment on land brought under well-irrigation at owners' expense, or in
granting a permanent assessment for all lands, or, perhaps, in extending
the period of lease from thirty to sixty years (and the last proposal
would answer fairly well), one thing is certain, and that is, that under
the thirty years' tenure system it is impossible to expect such a
development of the landed resources of India as will secure the Government
from the vast financial losses caused by famine, or at least reduce these
losses to a moderate amount. And we have ample evidence to prove that,
where adequate security exists, private enterprise will be sure to step in
and carry out most extensive and important irrigation works. This has
been particularly shown in the proceedings of the Government of the
North-West Provinces and Oudh, where the condition of things in the
permanently settled districts has been contrasted with that in the
temporarily settled, or thirty year leasehold districts. I have no space
to go into the details. They would only weary the general reader, and it
is sufficient to say that in the permanently settled districts there has
been an immense progress in irrigation carried out by private enterprise;
and that, to quote from the proceedings:--"Throughout the whole tract
there have been occasional periods of agricultural distress, but it has
always been in a mild form, and for a century famines such as have
occurred in other parts of India have been unknown." In short, private
enterprise, backed by a fair assessment fixed for ever, has driven famine
from the tract in question, and this will occur in other parts of India if
the Government will only grant tenures sufficiently safe to induce the
people to invest their money in wells and permanent improvements. And if
further proofs are needed, we have only to turn to Mr. Gribble's valuable
memorandum on well irrigation, which is published in the proceedings of
the Famine Commission.
In concluding my remarks on famines, I may say that the whole question
regarding them is of the greatest practical importance to all employers of
labour in India. Our labour market in Mysore was enormously injured by the
great famine of 1876-77, when the loss of population amounted to about a
million, and when, through the agency of railways, loss of life can be
averted in the future, it will only be averted at such a cost as will
cripple the resources of the State for years to come, and so lessen its
powers for maintaining roads and other works in an efficient state, and
developing the resources of the country. The whole of the evils arising
from famine then can only be averted by a full development of well
irrigation, and this and the development of the landed resources of the
country in general can only be effected through the agency of improved
tenures. This is a point which all individuals having a stake in India
should continuously urge on the attention of the Government.
The reader will remember that when I started in Mysore in 1856, there were
only seven European planters in the province. I have lately endeavoured to
ascertain the number there are at present, and the Dewan, to whose
kindness I have been much indebted for information when writing this book,
has supplied me with a specially drawn up return, showing all the
information available as regards coffee from the year 1831 up to 1890-91,
and by this it seems that there were in 1890-91 662 plantations held by
Europeans in Mysore, but there are no means of ascertaining the number of
planters. I have referred the return to one of the oldest and most
advanced planters, and in his reply he says, "It is impossible to say
exactly how many landowners the 662 plantations represent, as several of
the plantations in many cases go to make up what we call an estate, but I
should not imagine that the number would be more than 300, and in that
calculation I have allowed for there being partners in many of the
properties." The area held by Europeans was 49,862 acres, and some
increase has no doubt since been made to this.
The native plantations amounted to 27,180 in number in 1890-91, with an
area of 96,814 acres, but many of these so-called plantations only consist
of small patches of coffee. The total area of European and native holdings
in 1890-91 was 146,676 acres. There are no means whatever of ascertaining
from the returns at my command even approximately the amount of coffee
produced. A reasonable calculation, however, based on a general knowledge
of the circumstances, makes it probable that the European production of
coffee may be put down at about an average of 120,000 cwts. a-year, and
the native production at about 172,000 cwts., and if we put the average
value of both as low as L3 a cwt. this would make the annual value of the
coffee amount to L876,000. I now proceed to close this chapter with some
remarks on manufactures in Mysore.
Many years ago I heard the late Mr. Hugh Mason (formerly President of the
Manchester Chamber of Commerce) speak at a meeting of the Society of Arts
on the manufacturing prospects of India, and, after reviewing the general
situation, he said that it is difficult to see what other advantages India
could require in order to raise itself into the position of a great
manufacturing country. It is true, he said, that the operative there
cannot do as much as the operative hero, but, he continued, I can remember
the time when the operative here could not do nearly as much as he can do
now, and there is no reason to doubt but that a similar improvement would
take place in the case of the Indian operative. And when this improvement
takes place, and India becomes more known and developed, her great
manufacturing capabilities will become fully apparent. India has two very
great advantages. She has an abundant, docile, and orderly population, and
she obtains from the sun an ample supply of that heat which has to be paid
largely for here. When, then, the Indian operative attains to an advanced
degree of proficiency--and to this he undoubtedly will attain--the
greatest labour competition that the world has ever seen will begin--a
competition between the white labourer who requires to be expensively fed,
warmly clothed, and well shod, and housed, and the black or brown skinned
man who can live cheaply, and work naked, and who is as physically
comfortable in a mere shelter as his rival is in a well built dwelling.
The Indian peasant already, in the case of wheat, undersells the English
farmer, and it seems merely a question of time as to when the Indian
operative will undersell his Lancashire rival, and when perhaps calico
will come to England, as it once did, from Calicut. And no doubt, some
such thoughts were passing through Cobden's mind when he once said, "What
ugly ruins our mills will make." We are, however, a considerable way from
such remains as the reader will see if he consults the interesting paper
on "The Manufactures of India," read by Sir Juland Danvers at a meeting of
the Society of Arts on the 24th of April last, and by this it appears that
the imports of cloths of English manufacture have increased in recent
years. Still India is progressing, and there are now a total of 126 cotton
mills in all India. Of these one is in Bangalore, and was opened in 1885.
The Mysore Government took 250 shares in it, and to enable the Company to
extend the buildings, subsequently lent it on easy terms two lakhs of
rupees. There is also another company at work in Bangalore which started
as a woollen factory, but which has now set up machines for spinning
cotton. The efforts made to push forward industries of all kinds in Mysore
are highly creditable to the administration, and I find numerous
references in the annual addresses made by the Dewan at the meeting of the
Representative Assembly to the desire of the Government to foster any kind
of industry that is likely to afford increased employment to the people. A
long reference is made in the Dewan's address of 1890, to the endeavours
made by the Government to open up the iron wealth of the province, and it
was then in correspondence with a native gentleman who had proposed to
start iron works in the Malvalli Talook of the Mysore district. The
Government, it appears, were prepared to grant most liberal concessions as
regards the supply of fuel. But I regret that I have no information as to
whether these proposed works have or have not been started. For the
information of those who might be inclined to embark in this industry I
may mention that a copy of the Dewan's annual addresses always appears in
the "Mysore and Coorg Directory," which is a most valuable compilation on
all points of importance relating to those provinces. These annual
addresses are admirably drawn up and are most interesting to read. The
attention shown to the many various points treated of is most remarkable.
Nothing seems too great and nothing too small for notice by the Dewan, and
it is this even attention all along the line that shows the fine
administrator. As one instance to the point I may mention that when
attending as a member of the Representative Assembly at Mysore in 1891, I
happened to meet the Dewan and some of his officers in the veranda outside
the great hall where our meetings were held, and his attention was
attracted to a coffee peeler--the invention of a native who thought this a
good opportunity for introducing his machines to the notice of the public,
and had some cherry coffee at hand to show how they worked. The Dewan at
once inspected the machine, saw the coffee put through, and himself turned
the handle, and was so satisfied that he ordered some of the machines to
be bought and sent for exhibition to the head-quarters of the coffee
growing Talooks, or counties, and in his address of 1892 he reports that
the machines had been found to be much in favour with the planters who had
used them. The state of the box is the best evidence of the goodness of
the gardener. But it is time now to draw this chapter to a close. I must,
however, find room for a few remarks which will show those who might be
inclined to settle in India that their interests are sure to be well
attended to by the Government.
During my long Indian experience I have had occasion to represent
grievances and wants to Government officers, from district officers to
high Indian officials, to officials at the India office, and to more than
one Secretary of State for India, and am therefore able to testify
directly to their admirable courtesy, patience, and consideration. In the
ordinary sense of the word, the planters in the various parts of India are
not represented, but as a matter of fact their interests are most
efficiently represented, for the officers of the Government, whether
civilians or soldier-civilians (and when Mysore was under British rule I
had practical experience of both), are distinguished by an amount of
energy, industry, and ability, to which I believe it is impossible to find
a parallel in the world, and combined with these qualities there is
everywhere exhibited a conscientious zeal in promoting in every possible
way the interests of the countries committed to their charge. And these
officers know that they are at once the administrators and rulers of the
land, and, as there is no representative system such as we have in
England, freely admit that to them the people have a right to appeal in
all matters affecting their interests. This right of personal appeal
planters most freely exercise, and in this way are sure, sooner or later,
and often with very little delay, to obtain the supply of wants or the
redress of grievances. And here I may offer in conclusion one useful hint.
The time of officials, and especially of high officials, is very valuable,
and every effort should be made to avoid putting them to trouble that can
be avoided. The subject to be brought forward should be carefully thought
out, and put in the form of a memorandum. This in some cases it is
advisable to forward by letter when asking for an interview, while in
other cases I have thought it more advisable that the memorandum should be
taken with one and read to the official, as this gives a good opportunity
for discussing the points in regular order. In the latter case, at the
close of the interview, the official will probably ask that the memorandum
may be left with him for reference, but it is then better to ask to be
allowed to send a well-written copy by post, as this gives an opportunity
for making clearer any points that may have been discussed at the
interview, and which may require further explanation. It is well always to
bear in mind that all high officials, and the heads of districts, are
representatives of the Crown, and as such are entitled to a due amount of
deference and formality when being personally addressed, or addressed by
letter. These are points which are sometimes not sufficiently taken into
account by inexperienced persons.
I need hardly say that the remarks last made apply equally to native
officials either in Mysore or elsewhere.
In conclusion, I may mention that I have always found the native officials
to be most polite, considerate, and obliging, and such, I feel sure, is
the general experience of those who have been brought in contact with
them.
FOOTNOTES:
[2] When this line is finished the planters of Mysore will have an easy
and very direct route by rail to the Nilgiri Hills, and this will be of
immense advantage to themselves, and especially to their families.
[3] It has imposed this policy on Mysore, and by the terms of the deed of
transfer to the Rajah, no alteration in the tenures can be made without
the consent of the Supreme Government.
CHAPTER II.
THE SCENERY AND WATERFALLS OF MYSORE.
Mysore is a tract of country in Southern India approximating in area to
Scotland, and with a general elevation of from two to three thousand feet
above the level of the sea. It is commonly spoken of as the Mysore
tableland, but this is rather a misleading description if we adopt the
dictionary definition of the word tableland as being "a tract of country
at once elevated and level," for, though there are in the interior of the
province considerable stretches of rolling plains, the so-called tableland
presents to the view a country intersected at intervals, more or less
remote, with mountain chains, while scattered here and there in the
interior of the plateau are isolated rocky hills, or rather hills of rock,
termed droogs (Sanscrit, durga, or difficult of access) which sometimes
rise to a total height of 5,000 feet above sea level. The surface of the
country, too, is often broken by groups, or clusters of rocks, either low
or of moderate elevation, composed of immense boulders, the topmost ones
of which are often so finely poised as to seem ready to topple over at the
slightest touch. The highest point of the plateau is about 3,500 feet, and
is crowned as it were by the fine bold range of the Bababuden mountains,
which have an average elevation of about 6,000 feet. There are three
mountains in Mysore which exceed this elevation, and the highest of them,
Mulainagiri, is 6,317 feet above the level of the sea. The province,
which is completely surrounded by British territory, is flanked on the
west and east by the Ghauts, or ranges of hills up the passes through
which the traveller ascends on to the tableland, and on the south it is,
as it were, pointed off by the Nilgiri hills. The greatest breadth of
Mysore from north to south is about 230 miles, and its greatest length
from east to west is 290 miles. On the western side one part of the
province runs to within ten miles of the sea, though the average distance
from it is from thirty to fifty miles. The nearest point to the sea on the
eastern side is about 120 miles, and the most southerly extremity of the
tableland is 250 miles from the most southerly point of India.
As regards climate, cultivation, and the general appearance of the
country, Mysore may be divided into two very distinctly marked tracts--the
forest and woodland region which stretches from the foot of the Western
Ghauts to distances varying from about twenty to as much as forty-five
miles, and the rolling and comparatively speaking treeless plains of the
central and eastern parts of the province, which are only occasionally
broken by tracts which have some of the characteristics of both. In the
western tract are numerous plantations of coffee and cardamoms, and the
cereal cultivation consists mainly of rice fields irrigated from perennial
streams; while in the central and eastern parts of the tableland, which by
far exceed in area the woodland tracts of the west, the cultivation is
mainly of the millets and other crops which do not depend on irrigation,
though these are interspersed at intervals, more or less remote, with rice
fields, the water for which is chiefly derived from tanks, or artificial
reservoirs. The rainfall, temperature, and quality of the atmosphere in
the western tract varies considerably from those of the open country of
the interior. The rainfall of the first varies from sixty to one hundred
inches, and, on the crests of the Ghauts, is probably often about 200
inches,[4] while in the interior of the province the rainfall is probably
about thirty inches on the average. The temperature of the western tract
too is naturally much damper and cooler than that of the rest of the
tableland, and at my house within six miles of the crests of the Ghauts at
an elevation of about 3,200 feet, the shade temperature at the hottest
time of the year and of the day rarely exceeds eighty-five, and such a
thing as a hot night is unknown, as the woodland tracts are within reach
of the westerly sea breezes, while in the interior the climate is much
hotter and drier, and the maximum day temperature of the hot weather is
about ninety, and, in very hot seasons, about ninety-five. In the woodland
tracts the cold weather and the monsoon months have a very pleasant
temperature, and then flannel shirts and light tweeds--in short, English
summer clothing--are used, and a blanket is always welcome at night. The
climate of Mysore is considered to be a healthy one for Europeans of
temperate habits, and who take reasonable care of themselves. As we are
now hearing so much of cholera in Europe, it may not be uninteresting to
mention that, though the province was under British administration from
1831 to 1881, and there have since been a considerable number of European
officials in the employ of the now native government of Mysore, only one
European official has died of cholera during that period, and that, though
there are a considerable number of planters, only one has been reported to
have died of the disease, though his, I am told, was a doubtful case.
I have said that there are marked differences between the western tracts
and the remainder of the province, but the most marked difference of
course between the forest and woodland country of the west, and the
country to the east, lies in the scenery of the two tracts, for, though in
the latter case there are occasional bits of attractive landscape, and
partially wooded hills, there is nothing at all to compare with the grand
forest scenery of the Western Ghauts, or the charming park-like woodlands
which stretch into the tableland at varying distances from the crests of
the frontier mountains. Everyone who has seen the latter has been struck
by their extraordinary and diversified beauty, and last year a friend of
mine, who had for a considerable time been travelling all round the world,
said to me, as he rode up to my house, "After all I have seen I have seen
nothing to equal this." But this, I must add, was the very best of our
Western Ghaut park scenery which is mostly contained in the talook or
county of Manjarabad which stretches for about twenty-five miles along the
western frontier of Mysore, a tract of country so beautiful that the
laconic Colonel Wellesley (afterwards the great Duke of Wellington), who
rarely put a superfluous word into his dispatches, could not refrain from
remarking in one of them on the beautiful appearance of the country.[5]
There are two things especially remarkable about this tract. The one is
that throughout the best of it there is nothing distinctively Indian in
the scenery. Bamboos are rare, and in much of the tract entirely absent,
and as the palm trees are always concealed in the woods there is nothing
to connect the country with the usual feature of Indian woodland scenery.
Another point most worthy of notice is that the scenery which appears to
one seeing it for the first time to be entirely natural, is in reality
very largely the creation of man. And it has been much improved by his
action for, as you leave Manjarabad to go northwards the jungle becomes
too continuous, and it is the same if you go southwards into the adjacent
district of Coorg, and when you compare the last mentioned tracts with
Manjarabad you then begin to realize the fact that nature, if left to
herself, is apt to become a trifle monotonous. But in Manjarabad man has
invaded nature to beautify her and bring her to perfection--cutting down
and turning eventually into stretches of grass much of the original
forest--leaving blocks of from 50 to 200 acres of wood on the margin of
each group of houses, clearing out the jungle in the bottoms for rice
cultivation and thus forming what at some seasons appear to be bright
green rivers winding through the forest-clad or wooded slopes, and here
and there planting on the knolls trees of various wide-spreading kinds.
And yet from the absence of fences, and of cultivation on the uplands, the
whole scene appears to be one of Nature's creations, and all the more so
because no houses nor farm-buildings are visible, as these are hidden
amongst the trees on the margins of the forest lands. Then this long tract
of beautifully wooded and watered country is fringed on its western border
by the varied mountain crests of the Western Ghauts, while on the east it
is traversed by the Hemavati river which is fed by the numerous streams,
and brawling burns which descend from the frontier hills. But though
Manjarabad has combinations of charms unrivalled in their kind, we must
not forget that an examination of of them by no means exhausts the scenery
of the Ghauts, for, on the north-western border of Mysore are the falls of
Gairsoppa. Often had I read descriptions of them which I once thought must
have been too highly coloured, but when I visited the falls some years ago
I found that the accounts I had read were not only far below the reality,
but that the most important parts of the wonderful combinations of the
scenes had either never been noted, or been quite inadequately recorded.
I do not now profess to give anything approaching an adequate account of
them. Nor indeed do I think it would be possible to do so. But what
follows will I think at least be of advantage in directing the attention
of the traveller to the best way of observing the varied scenes, and
noting the wonderful musical combinations, which are to be heard at these
marvellously beautiful falls.
The falls of Gairsoppa are on the Sarawati, or Arrowborn[6] river, which,
rising in the western woodland region of Northern Mysore, flows north-west
for about sixty-two miles, and then, turning abruptly to the west,
precipitates its waters over cliffs about 860 feet in height. When the
river is at the full in the south-west monsoon an immense body of water
rushes over the precipice, and from calculations made by some engineers,
and which are recorded in the book at the Travellers' Bungalow, the volume
and height of fall at that time, if taken together, would give a force of
water about equal to that of Niagara. But, however that may be, a glance
at the high water marks, and a knowledge of the immense rainfall on the
crests of the Ghauts during the monsoon months, makes it certain that, at
that time of year, the amount of water must be very large. At that season,
though, the falls are almost invisible, as they are concealed by vast
masses of mist and spray, and even were they visible, as the water then
stretches from bank to bank, there would only be one vast monotonous fall.
But after the heavy monsoon floods are over, the river above the
falls-shrinks back as it were into a long deep pool which lies at a
distance of several hundred yards from the brink of the precipice, and
from this pool the water of the river then escapes by four distinct rapids
which have cut their way to-the brink of the precipice, and fall over the
cliffs in four distinct falls, each one of widely different character
from the others. The falls at this season are only 834 feet high, but when
the river rises to the full the fall, as I before mentioned, must be about
860 feet, or approximating in height to the loftiest story of the Eiffel
Tower. Across the rapids light bridges of bamboo are thrown, at the end of
each monsoon. There are thus two ways of crossing the river--one by the
pool above the falls where there is a ferry-boat which can take over
horses as well as people--the other by the bridges of the rapids--and it
is necessary to cross the river because the only bungalow is on the north,
or Bombay side of the river, and the best point for seeing the falls is on
the southern side. The only way too of reaching the bottom of the falls is
by the southern side.
The only objection to these falls is the difficulty of getting at them,
owing to their being quite out of the usual travellers' route, and that is
why they have, if I may judge by the travellers' book at the bungalow,[7]
been, comparatively speaking, rarely visited. Then there is no railway
nearer than about ninety miles, and though the falls are only thirty-five
miles from the western coast, steamers do not call at the nearest port to
them. Nor is it at all even probable that any line will ever be brought
nearer to the falls than about sixty miles. It is, too, rather
discouraging to have the prospect of a ninety mile road journey to see the
falls, and then return by the same route. But I would suggest that a
traveller might make a very enjoyable trip by going from Bombay to Hoobli
on the South Maharatta line, and, on the way to Gairsoppa visit the
Lushington Falls which are about 400 feet in height, the Lalgali Fall
which has a series of picturesque rapids and cascades, with a total fall
of from 200 to 300 feet, and the Majod falls where the Bedti-Gangaveli
river forms a picturesque waterfall leaping in a series of cascades over
cliffs varying in height from 100 to 200 feet in height, and together 800
feet high. I have not visited any of these last named falls. An account of
them and other places of interest in the Kanara district is given in the
"Bombay Gazetteer" for Kanara,[8] which gives a complete history of this
interesting district, and is a book which the traveller should buy, as it
is well worthy of a place in any library. I now proceed to give an account
of my visit to the Gairsoppa Falls.
On the 12th of January, 1886 (I should not advise the traveller to visit
the falls earlier than November 1st nor later than the middle of January,
as the water lessens after the latter date), I arrived at the Travellers'
Bungalow at the Falls, after having travelled there by the coast route
from Bombay, which I found so troublesome that I cannot recommend its
adoption. The bungalow, which is about thirty-five miles from the western
coast, and on ground 1,800 feet above sea level, is situated in a truly
romantic spot (in fact rather too romantic if we take the possibility of
an earthquake into consideration), for it is close to the edge of a gorge
900 feet deep, and in full view of the face of the precipice over which
the waters of the Arrowborn river precipitate themselves on their way to
the western sea. To north, south, east, and west stretch hills and vales
for the most part covered with the evergreen forest, and only here and
there showing grassy slopes and summits. On the opposite side of the gorge
as you peer down into it you can see emerging from the edge of the jungle
about half way down from the top of the side of the gorge what looks like
a long ladder of stone, but which really consists of the rough steps by
which alone the bottom of the falls can be reached.
On the following morning I proceeded to cross the river by the bridges
over the rapids. The first rapid is that of the Rajah Fall, the water of
which shoots sheer from the cliff, and, without even touching a rock,
falls 830 feet into a pool 132 feet deep. After crossing the bridge you
sometimes walk through, and sometimes clamber over, the vast assemblage of
rocks and huge boulders which form the bed of the river, and are deeply
submerged when the river is full. The sight here is extremely curious and
interesting as, after leaving the bridge of the Rajah rapid, there are
about 1,000 feet of rock and boulders to pass through or over before you
reach the next rapid, and, when half way, there would be nothing to show
that you were not wandering through a mere wilderness of rocks were it not
for the unceasing thunder, far below, from the bottom of the Rajah Fall.
The next rapid to be crossed is that of the Roarer, which takes, before it
goes over the precipice a most singular course--first flowing into a basin
at the edge of the cliff, and then leaving this in a northerly direction,
after which it rushes down a steep stony trough to fall into the same deep
pool which receives the water of the Rajah Fall. After crossing the bridge
of the Roarer rapid the bed of the river has again to be traversed and at
a distance of about 700 feet you reach the rapid of the Rocket. This is a
fall of wonderful beauty, for the water projects itself sheer from the
cliff to fall about 100 feet on to a vast projecting piece, or rather
buttress of rock, which causes the water to shoot out into a rocket-like
course from which are thrown off wonderfully beautiful jets, and arrowy
shoots of water, and spray, and foam, which seem to resemble falling stars
or shooting meteors. You then pass over another section of the river bed
for about 500 feet till you reach the rapid, or rather stream, of the la
Dame Blanche Fall which glides gently over the precipice in a broad
foaming silvery sheet. From the first rapid to the last the distance is
about 733 yards. I have met with no estimate of the total width of the
fall when the river is in full flood, but it can hardly be less than half
a mile wide, and the depth of the water, as one can see from the high
water mark, must be very great. It is interesting to note on the tops of
the boulders here and there the circular stones that have, during each
monsoon, been whirling round and round, each one in its own pothole.
After crossing the last bridge you then walk over the rocks into the
forest beyond and strike the path which leads down through the forest on
the Mysore side of the river, to a point called Watkin's platform--an
open-sided shed about 100 feet below the top of the falls, and which
commands a view of the gorge below the falls, and a fair, though rather
distant view of the falls. When approaching the platform I was positively
startled by a vast shrieking clang which suddenly burst on the ear and
seemed to fill the air. This I afterwards found had come from the
semi-cavernous gorge of rock about half a mile away, into which fall the
waters of the Rajah and Roarer rapids, and though I afterwards heard
somewhat similar sounds issuing from these falls, I never heard again
anything approaching to this singular and startling burst of sound. These
sounds have often been remarked upon, but no one seems to have attempted
to trace their cause, but they most probably arise from the escape of air
which has been driven by the falling waters into some deep fissures of the
rock.
Having thus taken a general view of the situation, I then returned to the
bungalow for breakfast, and in the afternoon at about two o'clock returned
to Watkin's platform by the route of the ferry across the pool, and, with
my companion, set out for the foot of the falls, first of all by a steep
winding path, and then by a flight of very rough and uneven steps which
had been formed by placing stones in places on and between the rocks. When
descending, we often paused to view the constantly changing scene, for,
as we got lower and lower, the rainbow hues across each fall, which were
at first widely broken by the masses of cliff stretching between the
falls, came closer and closer, till at last, when we reached the region
where the spray of all the falls was mingled, the iris hues stretched
across the gorge in an unbroken band of colour. At length, as we neared
the foot of the fall, we reached a small open-sided shed, which had
recently been erected on the occasion of the Maharajah of Mysore's visit.
From this, which was probably fifty feet from the bottom of the gorge and
about 100 yards from the falls, an admirable view was obtained of the
entire situation, and we began to realize how impossible it is to form any
adequate conception of the falls from the top, or from the higher sides of
the gorge. We next descended to the bottom of the gorge, where the ground
is strewn with vast boulders of rock, which had evidently fallen from the
cliff as it had been eaten back by waters toiling through countless bygone
ages. Many of these masses of rock lie at some distance from the foot of
the falls, and on the partially decayed surfaces of some of them
vegetation had evidently been flourishing for an indefinite period of
time. Huge masses of rocks and boulders, as you look down the river, seem
almost to block up its route towards the western sea, and indeed so
completely seem to fill up the pass, that one seemed to be standing at the
bottom of a rock-bound hollow which had been excavated by the agency of
Nature, after a toil through periods of time far beyond the calculations
of man.
As I found that the rocks at the foot of the falls were covered with a
slimy mud, and as I was suffering slightly from a damaged foot, I
presently returned to the shed, while my companion proceeded to explore
the bed of the gorge further down the river. The floor of the shed had
been strewed with straw, and I lay down at full length, partly to rest
and partly to examine the situation more minutely, for the height is so
great that it is impossible adequately to survey the scene in any other
position. And then, when you have stillness and solitude, and when the
body is in complete repose, there pour in on eye and ear floods of
impressions so quickly varying that the mind feels quite unable to record
them, and there is finally nothing left behind but a vague and
indescribable sensation of all that is grand and beautiful and melodious
in nature. For there are vast heights and gloomy depths and recesses, and
varied forms of falling waters, and in the general surroundings everything
to convey exalted ideas of grandeur to the mind, but grandeur accompanied
by exquisite beauty, in colour, in the graceful movement of animal life,
and in the varying sounds of falling waters--the charm of the iris hues
which ever beautify the falling waters--beauty in the varied colours of
the rocks, and in the plants and ferns growing in the fissures of the
cliff--beauty in exquisite forms of motion--of water varied in countless
ways as it descends from the four separate falls--beauty in the unceasing
movements of countless swallows, mingled here and there with specimens of
the Alpine swift and the pretty blue-hued rock pigeons, which build their
nests on the ledges of the cliffs, and are constantly to be seen flying
across the falls. Then there are the unceasing and ever varying sounds of
falling waters, grand in their totality, grand and melodious in their
separate cadences--the deep bass of the Rajah, sometimes like cannon
thundering in the distance, and sometimes like the regular tolling of some
vast Titanic bell; sounds of most varied and brilliant music from the
Rocket; the jagged note of the Roarer, as its waters rush down their
steep, stony trough; the eerie and mysterious sounds which, sometimes like
a mingling of startling shrieks and clangs, and sometimes, to the active
imagination, like the far-off lamentations of imprisoned spirits,[9]
occasionally rise from the semi-cavernous chasm which has been hollowed
out behind the great pool beneath the cliff; the gentle murmuring note of
the White Lady Fall, tangled threads of sound from which fall in fitful
cadences on the ear as the wind rises and falls athwart the falls; and
lastly, but by no means leastly, the undulating and endless varieties of
sounds which, having broken away from their original source, are ever
wandering and echoing around the rock-bound gorge. Beautiful indeed and
altogether indescribable are the elements of melody which are created by
the falling waters of the Arrowborn river!
And the music, too, seemed to be for ever varying, for the choral odes
which were sweetly chanted to the ear were not perpetually continuous, and
at times, owing to some change in the direction of the wind as it swirled
around the gorge, the choral element was subordinated to the deep thunder
of the Rajah Fall, or the vague tumult of startling discords which arose
at intervals from the semi-cavernous walls of the pool into which plunge
the waters of the Rajah and Roarer Falls. And then these sounds would
gradually lose their predominance, and the more uniform sounds in which
all the four falls joined would once more fill the air and charm the ear.
And thus the attention could never be lulled to sleep, for here monotony
was not, and the mind was always kept in an attitude of expectancy for the
variations in the music which were sure to come, and, so far as they
reached the ear, were never the same combinations of sounds that had been
heard before. All the elements of melody were here, indeed, in profuse
abundance, and it seemed as if they only required to be caught by some
master hand and strung into methodical musical combinations to yield to
the mind and feelings those exquisite sensations which music alone can in
any effective degree convey.
And besides the effects we have noticed, there is the motion of colour
constantly, though gradually, shifting and altering, for, as the sun
declines, the rainbow hues move steadily upwards on the face of the falls,
and the colours of the rocks, which are of varying shades of purple and
yellow, continually alter in character with the sinking day. But the
finest combined effects of beauty and grandeur are, perhaps, most fully
felt when, late in the afternoon, the eye wanders delighted over the vast
combination of lofty cliffs and falling waters to rest finally far above
on the iris tints of the Rajah and Roarer Falls, through the colours of
which myriads of swallows incessantly wheel on lightsome wing, mingled
with the quick, darting movement of the Alpine swifts, and the gentle
flight of the blue rock pigeons, which occasionally wing their way through
the mazy throng. For there the eye is ever delighted with the charm of
colour and of those endless variations of graceful movement which
continuously convey pleasurable sensations to the mind. But how could eye
or ear ever tire of those rare combinations of form, colour, motion and
rhythmic sounds which fill the mind with an exalted sense of feeling and
of pleasure, and the conscious heart with exquisite sensations far beyond
the power of language to describe?
Presently my companion returned and aroused me from my state of dreamy
pleasure, and I turned reluctantly away from the scene as the rainbow
colours were, with the sinking sun, beginning to disappear from the
topmost heights of the falls.
Delightful indeed were the brilliant and varied scenes I have been
attempting to describe, and after them the remainder was by comparison
tame, but still I found that, as I took a canoe the following evening and
rowed up the forest-margined pool from which the rapids emerge, that the
minor scenes at the falls have exquisite charms of their own. And then it
was that I realized that, varying though the scale may be, there is
everywhere about the falls the same beauty of detail and beauty of
combined effect, and that, too, unaccompanied by a single jarring note.
For nowhere can you say, as you can often say in viewing scenes elsewhere,
"leave out this, or alter that, and the scene would be perfect," and in
none of the scenes about the falls does anything poor, or base, or mean,
or uninteresting strike the eye, and as I rowed slowly up the pool I felt
that the mind was both charmed and soothed by the exquisite repose of the
scene, which is only broken, if indeed it can be said to be broken, by the
beautiful birds and gaily painted kingfishers which occasionally wing
their way across the water, or flit along the margin of the forest-clad
shore. As you look towards the West the eye wanders over the wild
assemblage of water-worn rocks and boulders which intervene between the
pool and the head of the falls, to rest finally on the distant hills,
covered mostly to their tips with the evergreen forest, while on looking
up the river you see that it is flanked by woods on either hand, and as
you lose sight of the water as it bends towards the south, the eye glances
upwards to hills of moderate height, wooded in the hollows, and showing on
the ridges grassy vistas dotted with occasional trees.
On returning, I went lower down in the pool than the point I had started
at, and passed a number of rocks worn into all sorts of curious shapes,
and one of these leaned, like some gigantic Saurian, over the flood. As we
neared the rapids, one felt that one would by no means like to run any
risk of being drawn into one of them, and I was by no means anxious to go
nearer to them than the boatmen, wished. One of them told me that the
natives sometimes descended the cliffs between the Roarer and the Rocket
Falls in order to carry off the fledglings from the nests of the blue rock
pigeons, and said that several lives had thus been lost. He said that
there was no way of reaching the bottom of the cliff, and rather quaintly
added, "Those who came up again came up, and those who did not, died." He
said that some European had once put what was evidently dynamite into the
pool. A great explosion followed, which killed a large number of fish,
many of which were washed over the falls.
In the evening I sat for a long time in the bungalow veranda smoking my
cigar, and looking dreamily out at the moonlit falls, and observing from
time to time the scenic changes that were produced by the great masses of
mist which drifted up the gorge below me to be dispersed as they touched
the cliffs, and presenting, as they did so, most charming pictures. In the
morning, too, beautiful effects were to be seen, as masses of mist arose
from the chasm of the Rajah to flit in fleecy fragments across the face of
the falls. But the scenes about this spot are of endless variety, and I
must allow myself to mention only one more, which my companion saw one
morning from Watkin's platform when the iris hues were on the pool below
the falls, which, as the spray fell into it, seemed like a mass of golden
water dotted all over, as if yellow tinted rain were falling into it. On
some occasions visitors have illuminated the falls with fireworks, and by
floating over the falls ignited bundles of straw soaked in paraffin, and I
regret that I had not thought of following their example.
Next morning I set out on a drive of about 150 miles to my plantations in
Manjarabad. As we left the falls, we passed, and close to the river pool
above them, a tree covered with fruit which was being eaten by green
pigeons and other birds, and on looking up into it I was surprised, as it
is an animal of nocturnal habits, to see a large and beautiful flying
squirrel peering at me with a quiet but by no means apprehensive eye. I
was strongly tempted to shoot it for the sake of its skin, but my
companion, who had been much affected by the beauties of the falls, said
that it would be a sacrilege to shoot anything so near them. So I spared
his feelings and the poor squirrel, and am now very glad to think that I
did so. I may here mention that the traveller, though he sets out early in
the morning and late in the afternoon, very rarely sees anything in the
shape of big game, even though the jungles he may be driving through may
abound with it, and the sole exception I can remember, after numerous
journeys through them, occurred on the occasion of my drive home from the
falls, when, early one morning, a tiger bounded across the road at a
distance of about 100 yards ahead. It is also worthy of remark that you
very seldom see a snake, and, though I landed on the Western coast at
Carwar and travelled by easy stages by way of the falls to my estate, I
did not see a single snake during the whole course of the journey.
As it is probable that this account of the Gairsoppa Falls may induce
travellers to visit them, I think it may be useful to give an account of
the Cauvery Falls on the southern frontier of Mysore, which are well
worthy of a visit, and easily accessible. The best time for visiting them
is generally said to be August, or not later than the middle of September,
though when I visited them on the 25th of that month last year, the river,
though not in full flood, had an ample supply of water in it, and, from
Mr. Bowring's description of his visit to them on November 21st,[10] there
must still, up to that date, be a considerable flow in the river. From my
own experience, I feel sure that the best time to see these falls is after
the great floods have subsided, as the water then is clear, or nearly so,
and the effects, as in the case of the Gairsoppa Falls, are far more
varied and brilliant. There is one point I would here particularly impress
on the traveller, and that is, that when visiting falls such as those of
Gairsoppa and the Cauvery, which present a great variety of scenic
effects, and are not merely monotonous single masses of water, he should
devote at least two clear days to them, i.e., he should arrive on one
day, remain two days, and leave on the fourth day. He should also select a
time when there is a sufficiency of moonlight. I was particularly
impressed with the first point, because I most thoroughly enjoyed my visit
to Gairsoppa as I had two clear days there, whereas my visit to the
Cauvery Falls was attended with that sense of hurry which, if not
destructive of all enjoyment, leaves behind on the mind a feeling that
many points in the scenes must have been either missed or quite
inadequately observed. The account of my visit to these falls, however,
may at least be useful in showing a traveller short of time how to visit
them with the least possible expenditure of it.
I left Bangalore, then, on the morning of Thursday, September 24th, 1891,
by the 8.20 a.m. train, for the Mudoor Railway Station, on the lino to
Mysore city, and arrived there shortly after midday. I then had luncheon
at the station, and left for the Malvalli Travellers' Bungalow at a little
before three, in a carriage I had sent on from Bangalore with two pairs of
horses (it is advisable to have an extra pair posted), and arrived at my
destination shortly after five. To this bungalow, which is about fourteen
miles from the falls, I had previously sent on with my native servants
bedding and mosquito curtains, and the means necessary to prepare meals
for the party. Reports had reached us of creeping things being abroad in
this bungalow, and my servant had been particularly enjoined to look out
for, and, as far as possible, guard against them. This he had done by
putting the bedsteads in the sun and doing what further he could. But
notwithstanding his assurances of safety, one of the ladies of the party
insisted that, from all she had heard, there must be creeping things
somewhere about. The servant listened with an air of respectful attention
to all she had to say, and, when she had quite done, said with quiet
persistence, and much to our amusement, "What Missus says is true, but
there are no bugs," and I am glad to say that he was justified in making
the assertion. We rose very early the following morning, started at 4.20,
at 6.20 arrived at the bungalow near the falls, and, after a little delay
to get a cup of tea, drove at once to the nearest fall. But I must here
pause for a few moments to describe the general situation of the river,
the islands formed by its splitting into two distinct branches, and the
position of the fall--a total situation which is not easily comprehended
without the aid of a map.
The Cauvery Falls are on the river of that name, which rises in Coorg,
and, after a run of 646 miles to the south-east, falls into the Bay of
Bengal about midway between Madras and Cape Comorin. Before reaching
Seringapatam (which is on an island in the river) it is joined by the
Hemavati which rises to the north of Manjarabad and, as we have seen,
skirts the eastern border of that talook, or county. As the Hemavati sends
down a large body of water the source of which is more distant from the
sea than the spot in Coorg which is called the head of the Cauvery, I may
remark in passing that it is singular that the latter should have been
regarded as the source of this fine river, which really rises in Mysore.
But, rise where it may, it at last arrives at a point on the southern
frontier of Mysore where the bed of the Cauvery splits into two channels
and forms the island of Hegora, which is about three miles long, and from
a quarter of a mile to a mile wide, and, by a rather curious, coincidence,
almost exactly the size of the island on which the fortress of
Seringapatam has been built. The northern branch of the river washes the
Mysore frontier and this, after about two miles, again divides, or rather
a small branch diverges to the north and, forming a loop, cuts away from
the mainland the island of Ettikoor, and there falls into the northern
branch of the river by various cascades, and just below the point where
the falls on the main northern branch occur. This group of falls is called
Gangana Chuckee.
The southern branch of the river on the Madras side flows as a single
stream for about half a mile, and then splits off some of its water into
various channels, but forming nothing worthy of the name of an island till
it severs from the mainland the island of Hegora, a strip of land about
two furlongs at the widest, and less than a mile in length. To the south
of this the main body of the water goes to form lower down the fine series
of cascades and falls called the Bar Chuckee, while a comparatively small
body of water goes to the left to form the pretty series of cascades and
steep runnels of water which fall, though at a different point of the
compass from the main falls, into the wide pool at the foot of the Bar
Chuckee Falls. After this necessary digression I now proceed to narrate
what I saw and did.
I drove, then, after a short delay at the bungalow, to the Gangana Chuckee
Falls, passing on the way the temple of Sivasamudrum, and various
buildings connected with it, and leaving the carriage, walked down towards
the falls, passing on the right Pir's Tomb, the grave of a Mahometan
priest of that name, and went to a point just below it, from which a fine
general view of these falls and the river can be obtained. Glancing
upwards, the view of the river, as the waters race down their steep stony
bed towards the falls amidst numerous projecting rocks, is extremely grand
and picturesque. Then at a point just below the spot I was standing on,
the water plunged down a nearly precipitous descent, from which it
apparently (for the spray prevented one seeing exactly) fell
perpendicularly into the pool below, sending up as it did so gossamer
veils of spray full of fleeting, faint, and ever varying iris hues. This
pool is flanked, and probably about 100 yards below the foot of the
previously mentioned fall, on the northern side by a precipice about 250
feet high, down which, in four separate cascades, falls the water of the
branch of the river which cuts off the small island of Ettikoor. On the
side of the precipice next to the great fall of the main river stands a
piece of tree-clad rocky ground, apparently about 50 feet higher than the
precipice, and this is flanked by a rapid at the top, passing into a
cascade lower down, which then held but little water, but which in floods
must add much to the beauty of the scene. After viewing the scene for
sometime, I returned to the carriage, and drove across the island to visit
the Bar Chuckee Falls, and left the carriage at a point where the road
begins to descend into the valley into which the southern branch of the
river precipitates itself. I then advanced to a point on the right of the
road from which a fine general view can be obtained, though it is rather
too distant as regards the main body of the falls, and, as I reached the
point in question, came suddenly into view of such a number of separate
falls and cascades that a description of them is extremely difficult. For,
on the opposite side of the valley, I counted no less than thirteen, which
leap partly over one side of a horseshoe shaped precipice which had
evidently, from the huge boulders in the channel below, been eaten back
into the side of the precipice, and partly shoot out through various
hidden channels which the waters have deeply cut through a huge
semicircular platform of rock which overhangs the valley below. As they
thus shoot out the effect is extremely striking and picturesque, and their
resemblance to the spokes of light from a star no doubt caused the natives
to give the very appropriate name of Chuckee (pronounced
Chickee--Kanarese for star) to these beautiful falls. This semicircular
platform of rock stands on one side of the river-bed, next to this we have
the horseshoe-shaped precipice I have mentioned, and next to that again,
as it were by way of quietly beautiful contrast, there is a vast sheet of
steeply sloping rock, which is completely covered by a thin coating of
white, and everywhere foaming water. When the river is at the full this
fine series of falls and cascades vanishes, and is replaced, as in the
case of the falls at Gairsoppa, by one great fall about half a mile wide.
After looking at this beautiful scene, the eye wanders next over some
jungle-clad slopes on the western side of the main falls, to dwell on a
series of cascades and racing waters which descend through channels
flanked on either side by scrubby plants and trees--a series which arises
from a branch which diverges about a mile higher up the river, and the
cascades and runnels of water of which are scattered round precipitous
slopes right up to, and immediately below, the point on which I was
standing. All the falls and cascades unite in a pool below of great width,
from which the water escapes through a narrow gorge, to join, further
down, the river branch on which are the Gangana Chuckee Falls. The general
effect here appears to be that you are looking at falls and cascades
proceeding from two different rivers, the one flowing from the south and
the other from the west, and the effect is the same at the first described
falls. The general height of all the falls is said to be from 200 to 250
feet, and in Mr. Bowring's "Eastern Experiences" 300 feet, but I can find
no account, and could hear of no particulars, as to when or how
measurements were taken, as in the case of the falls at Gairsoppa, which
were carefully surveyed by officers of the Indian Navy. I was particularly
struck with the absence of bird life at these falls, and only saw two
small birds, and one hawk, and a small flight of what in the distance
appeared to be pigeons, which alit on a rock at the foot of one of the
falls.
It is impossible to refrain from contrasting these falls with those at
Gairsoppa. The Cauvery Falls have indeed much beauty and grandeur in
river, and varied waterfall scenery, and had I not seen the Gairsoppa
Falls I should have thought that it would have been difficult to find
anywhere in the world scenes more varied and beautiful. But the beauties
of the falls of Cauvery are set in comparatively speaking sterile
surroundings of rock and scrubby jungle, trees and shrubs scattered over
ground partly undulating, and partly over hills of moderate height and
uninteresting form. Then the grandeur arising from their great height, and
the charms of the varied sounds of the falls of Gairsoppa, and the
marvellously beautiful effects of graceful bird life wheeling and darting
amidst the iris hues of the falls, and the setting of the whole scene
amidst the tropical wealth of the evergreen forest of the Western Ghauts,
afford combinations which far exceed those of the Cauvery Falls. I have no
hesitation in saying, as a traveller to the falls of Gairsoppa has said
before, that they alone would repay one for all the trouble of the voyage
to India. But, beautiful and grand as they undoubtedly are, I cannot quite
say the same of the Cauvery falls, though I can with confidence say that
if the traveller leaves India without seeing them he will certainly have
missed one of the scenes best worth seeing in it.
After spending some time at the Bar Chuckee Falls I then drove back to the
bungalow and, leaving the carriage there, walked rather more than half a
mile to the bridge which connects the island with the Madras side of the
river, and which I closely examined, as it is a most curious and
interesting specimen of the work of native engineers, and as it has
withstood the floods of about seventy years, one of which passed over the
roadway of the bridge to a depth of three feet, is most highly creditable
to native workmanship. A similar bridge connects the island with the
Mysore side of the river, and both bridges were repaired at his own cost
by a native in the employ of the Mysore Government, who in recognition of
this important work, received from the British Government, for himself and
his heirs (who are bound to keep up the bridges) land yielding an annual
revenue of L800, and of L900 from the Mysore Government.
The bridge I now proceeded to examine. It is built entirely of stone
without any mortar or cement, and is supported on two rows of single block
stone pillars standing on slabs of stone placed on the river bed. Those
pillars are about nine feet high and eight feet apart. On the top of each
pillar is first of all a thick block of stone projecting about eighteen
inches from the pillar on its upper and lower sides. Then on this was a
rather thicker block of stone, and on the top of all cross beams of solid
single stones had been laid, and from one cross beam to another were solid
and closely put together slabs of stones, some of which were eighteen
inches wide, and some rather wider, thus making a roadway above so narrow
that two carriages cannot pass each other. In order to strengthen the
pillars and keep them in position, a flat slab of stone had been laid on
the bed of the river, from the base of the lower pillar to within about
two feet of the upper one, and between the end of this slab and the pillar
a thick, high block of stone had been wedged. In this bridge there were
109 pairs of pillars, giving a total length of about 1,000 feet. I was
struck with the difference in the age of the pillars, and with the fact
that, whereas some were plain, roughly hewn pillars, others, which had
been dressed and chiselled into various forms, were evidently of great
antiquity, and I was subsequently informed by the clerk of the proprietor
of the island that the latter had been procured from ruined temples in
the neighbourhood. These bridges at first sight seem to be curved in a
slight loop up the stream, but a closer examination shows that they have
been built in several lines, first slightly up the stream and then
advancing by several straight lines to a blunt arrow-like point in the
centre of the river, and this was evidently to enable the bridges the
better to resist the heavy floods, one of which, as I have previously
mentioned, went no less than three feet over the roadway. As you stand on
the edge of the river and look along the centre of the rows of pillars the
effect is very curious, as they then present the appearance of a long
colonnade of pillars of various shapes, with a flat roof of solid slabs of
stone overhead.
After thoroughly inspecting the bridge, I lay for some time in the shade
of a tree which stood on the bank of the river about fifty yards below the
bridge, and awaited the arrival of the carriage, which I had sent for as
the day was getting hot, and as I thus lay languidly observing the long
colonnade, and the water which rapidly flowed between the pillars, and
looked up the river as it stretched away to the north-west, and enjoyed
the cool air which gently moved along the water, I felt a quiet sense of
enjoyment which gave me a greater, and certainly a more lasting, sense of
pleasure than I had experienced when visiting the beautiful falls I have
just endeavoured to describe. I mention this for the moral, which is, that
to enjoy scenery the body must be comfortable and in complete repose. I
would also add that you must be alone, or practically alone, by being out
of sight or hearing of your companions. Presently I was aroused by the
rumble of the carriage, and, collecting my party, returned to the bungalow
for luncheon. At about half past four the carriage was brought round, and
we drove to our temporary home to dinner, and on the following day reached
Bangalore at two o'clock, the whole trip having thus occupied about sixty
hours.
FOOTNOTES:
[4] No less than 291.53 inches fell this year, between April and the last
day of September, at a Cardamom plantation on the crests of the Ghauts.
[5] After the fall of Seringapatam some further military operations were
necessary in Manjarabad, and some of Colonel Wellesley's letters were
written within a few miles of my bungalow.
[6] So called from its flowing from a source which was supposed to have
been formed by a stroke of Rama's arrow.
[7] All travellers are obliged to record their names in these books, and
state the time they have stayed, and the sums they have paid for the use
of the bungalow.
[8] "Gazetteer of the Bombay Presidency," vol. xv. Kanara, Bombay. Printed
at the Government Central Press, 1883.
[9] The native idea.
[10] "Eastern Experiences," by L. Bowring, C.S.I.; Henry S. King and Co.,
London, 1871. Before visiting Mysore the traveller should certainly buy or
consult this book.
CHAPTER III.
MYSORE--ITS HISTORY, GOVERNMENT, AND REPRESENTATIVE ASSEMBLY.
In my last chapter I gave a description of Mysore and its waterfalls. In
the present chapter I purpose very briefly remarking on its history,
government, and representative assembly, and shall conclude by contrasting
the last with the so-called National Indian Congress.
In his Report of December, 1804, the Acting Resident of Mysore, Colonel
Mark Wilks, observed that "the territories composing the present dominion
of His Highness the Rajah of Mysore had, from the remotest periods of
tradition, been held by a number of polygars and petty Rajahs, whose
possessions were incessantly enlarged, diminished, or alienated, by a
series of revolutions which it would perhaps be impossible to trace, and
unprofitable to describe," and it is interesting to note how little, at
that time, seems to have been known about the history of the kingdoms we
conquered. But all doubts as to the early history of Mysore have now been
removed, and the reader will find in Mr. Rice's admirable gazetteer of
Mysore a minute history of the country accompanied by coloured maps which
show at a glance the numerous transitions which the territories now
comprised under the head of Mysore have undergone in former times, but as
I think that it would certainly be unprofitable to describe these
transitions here I shall content myself with a bare enumeration of those
leading facts which are necessary for a general comprehension of the
situation. All, then, that the reader requires to know is, that a line of
Hindoo Rajahs which once reigned over a very limited portion of Mysore
gradually acquired about half of it; that a descendant of their line was
set aside by the Mahometan usurper Hyder Ali (an able soldier of fortune,
who had risen to the chief command of the army); that he conquered the
remainder of the present territory and ruled it from 1761 to 1782; and
that after his death he was succeeded by his son Sultan Tippoo, who on May
4th, 1799, lost his life at Seringapatam, and with it all the territories
acquired by his father, thereby fulfilling what Hyder Ali said when he
observed to his son one day, "I was born to win and you were born to lose
an empire." The subsequent history of the province is soon told. After the
fall of Seringapatam it was resolved to place a descendant of the old
Hindoo line on the throne, and Krishna Rajah Wodeyar--then about five
years old, became Maharajah of Mysore, with Purnaiya (formerly prime
minister of Tippoo) as Dewan and Regent, and Colonel (afterwards Sir
Barry) Close as Resident, while Colonel Arthur Wellesley (afterwards Duke
of Wellington) commanded the division. Under the new Government all at
first went well, and in 1804 the Governor-General declared that during the
past five years "the affairs of the Government of Mysore had been
conducted with a degree of regularity, wisdom, discretion and justice
unparalleled in any native state in India." But, unfortunately for himself
and his subjects, the Maharajah, in 1811, began to rule, and Purnaiya, the
able prime minister, retired, and soon afterwards died. Then followed a
long period of misgovernment, which culminated in the insurrection of
1830, to put down which the aid of British troops had to be called in. A
formal inquiry was then made by the British Government, and the result of
this was that it was determined to transfer the entire administration to
British officers, and put the Maharajah on an allowance for his personal
expenditure. At first two commissioners were appointed to administer the
government, but this was found to be inconvenient, and in April, 1834,
Colonel (afterwards Sir Mark) Cubbon was appointed as sole commissioner
for the province. He occupied the post till February, 1861, when he
retired, and when on his way home died at Suez at about seventy-seven
years of age, having spent the whole of the previous years of the century
in India. He was succeeded by other able commissioners, and nothing of any
political importance happened in the province till June, 1865, when the
Maharajah adopted as his heir a scion of one of the leading families of
his house. It was for some time doubtful whether the Government would
recognize the adoption, as, after the death of the Maharajah, it had been
generally assumed that the province would be annexed, but in April, 1867,
the Home Government decided that it should be recognized, and on September
23rd, 1868, six months after the death of Krishna Rajah, his adopted son,
Chama Rajendra Wodeyar Bahadur, at that time between five and six years
old, was duly installed at Mysore, and it was then decided that the
country should remain under British administration till the Maharajah came
of age. His Highness attained his majority at the age of eighteen, on the
5th of March, 1881, and was formally installed on the throne on the 25th
of that month, and thus the province, after having been directly
administered by the British for almost exactly fifty years, was handed
over, not as we shall afterwards see, to native rule, but to native
administration.
And here a rather interesting question naturally arises. How was such a
change--one quite unique in the history of India--received by the
inhabitants of the country? So far as the planters (of whom I am one of
the oldest, having settled in the province in 1855) are concerned, I do
not think they have been in the slightest degree affected. They were all
well satisfied with the English administration, and I think they are
equally well satisfied with the present native administration. In fact,
there is no change perceptible, except that the criminal administration,
has somewhat fallen off, and it certainly has been occasionally found that
an answer from a native official sometimes resembles death--you think it
is never coming and then it comes when least expected. But I must confess
that, as regards answers to communications, I have heard of similar
complaints made by the former Mysore Government against the Supreme
Government, and of a like complaint made by the latter against the Home
Government. But, though the change was regarded with indifference by the
settlers in the province, and was indeed of obvious advantage to them, as
there is no income-tax, and the finances are flourishing, it was not at
all acceptable to the native population in general, and the native
officials were quite aware that the new administration was not popular. I
made frequent inquiries as to the cause of this, not only from natives in
my own neighbourhood, but from those I met when travelling by easy stages
from the Gairsoppa Falls in the north-western corner of the province to my
estates in Southern Mysore, and found that the universal complaint was
that there was a want of Daryapti, or active inquiry into grievances, and
one of my old native neighbours was loud in his praises of the palmy days
of Sir Mark Cubbon. I confess, however, that though there may have been
some grounds for complaint as regards "inquiry," owing to the greater zeal
and personal activity of Englishmen, I do not think that there were any
real grounds for dissatisfaction, and feel sure that the unpopularity of
the new administration was owing partly to the fact of the country, at the
time of the rendition, not being in a very prosperous condition, partly to
the strong conservative instincts of the natives, and partly, perhaps, to
their being under some apprehension that the abuses of the old native
government might possibly be revived. But, however that may be, from
inquiries made when last in India, and especially from the absence of any
reference to the subject in the many conversations I had with natives of
all classes, I believe that the unpopularity of the new administration,
which at first undoubtedly existed, has now quite passed away.
It may be as well to mention here that, though the administration is now a
native one, there are still, in the Mysore service, about thirty-five
Englishmen in the various departments of the State, and that the most
friendly relations exist between them and the native officials. I feel
sure, too, that the value of an admixture of Englishmen in the
administration is fully recognized by the native officials. As regards
brain power they equal Englishmen, and indeed are often superior to them,
but the classes from which the native officials are mainly drawn are, as a
rule, deficient in that physical vigour which is required for executive
work, as one of the native officials, who himself was an exception to the
rule, once told me, "and therefore," he added, "we must have an admixture
of natives and Europeans in the service." I must, however, observe that,
though his remark is true as regards the Brahminical classes from which
the officials are mainly taken, I think it probable that, when education
spreads, there will ultimately be found amongst the hardy peasantry of
Mysore a fair proportion of individuals who will have a sufficient degree
of physical vigour for executive work. In confirmation of the remark I
have made as to the want of executive vigour on the part of native
officials, a defect which would be equally apparent in us were our energy
not kept up by fresh importations from home, I may mention that, under the
new regime, there has been a distinct falling off in the up-keep of
roads, and in the detection of crime.
In connection with this subject I may make a passing remark on a point
which has not hitherto been noticed, so far as I am aware, by previous
writers. It has constantly been asserted by natives that we have not kept
faith with them as regards opening to them many appointments in the public
service which are at present reserved for Englishmen. I would call
attention to the fact that one of the passages so often quoted contains
really no general promise of employment. This passage--taken from a clause
in the East India Act, passed in Parliament, 1833--merely says "That no
native of the said territories, nor any natural born subject of his
majesty resident therein, shall by reason _only_ of his religion, place of
birth, descent, colour, or any of them, be disabled from holding any
place, office, or employment under the said company." "By reason _only_."
Yes, but this does not bar disqualification for other reasons, as for
instance the want of physical vigour to which I have alluded. Then mark
the careful limitation contained in the often quoted passage from the
Queen's proclamation of 1858, which sets forth that "It is our further
will, that, _as far as may be_, our subjects, of whatever race or creed,
be freely and impartially admitted to office in our service, the duties of
which they may be qualified, by their education, _ability_ and integrity,
duly to discharge." But natives have not, generally speaking, the ability
to discharge executive duties requiring much physical vigour, and no one
is more ready to admit that than the best among the natives. But besides
executive efficiency there is the fact that the mere sight of the zeal,
energy, and general interest in progress exhibited by the English is to
the natives around them an education worth all the book instruction we
have imported into India. We cannot have too much of this leavening
element, and the effects of it are everywhere apparent. It is extremely
striking in the coffee districts, where many native planters have been,
much improved as regards go, and a desire to adopt improvements, since
Europeans have settled more freely amongst them.
But it is time now to turn to the subject of the constitution of Mysore--a
subject which, I need hardly say, is of the greatest practical importance
to those who hold, or may think of acquiring, property in the province.
The Instrument of Transfer, then, as it is officially called, by which
Mysore was made over to native administration on the 25th of March, 1881,
begins by declaring the installation of the Maharajah and his power to
rule under certain general conditions, which are--(1) That the Maharajah
and those who are to succeed him in the manner hereinafter provided, are
to hold possession of and administer the province as long as they fulfil
the conditions laid down in the Instrument of Transfer; that (2) the
succession should devolve on the Maharajah's lineal descendant, whether by
blood or adoption, except in the case of disqualification through manifest
unfitness to rule; and that (3) the Maharajah and his successors shall at
all times remain faithful in allegiance and subordination to the British
Crown, and perform all the duties which, in virtue of such allegiance and
subordination, may be demanded of them. Then follow clauses with reference
to the subsidy to be paid to the British Government for protecting and
defending the province, military stipulations, foreign relations, coinage,
railways and telegraphs, and extradition, and as regards the last, it is
declared that plenary jurisdiction over European British subjects in
Mysore shall continue to be invested in the Governor-General in Council,
and that the Maharajah of Mysore shall only exercise such jurisdiction in
respect to European British subjects as may from time to time be delegated
to him by the Viceroy. Then with reference to "Laws and Settlements," it
is declared that those in existence at the time of the transfer must be
maintained, and that the Maharajah of Mysore "shall not repeal or modify
such laws, or pass any laws or rules inconsistent therewith," and that no
material change in the system of administration as established previous to
the date of the transfer shall be made without the consent of the Viceroy.
And finally, under this head, it is declared that all title-deeds granted,
and all settlements of land revenues in force on March 25th, 1881 (the
date of the transfer), shall be maintained, excepting so far as they may
be rescinded or modified either by a competent court of law or with the
consent of the Governor-General in Council. Lastly, under the heading of
"British Relations," it is declared that "the Maharajah of Mysore shall at
all times conform to such advice as the Governor-General in Council may
offer him with a view to the management of the finances, the settlement
and collection of the revenues, the imposition of taxes, the
administration of justice, the extension of commerce, the encouragement of
trade, agriculture, and industry, and any other objects connected with His
Highness's interests, the happiness of his subjects, and his relations to
the British Government." And, "In the event of the breach or
non-observance of any of the foregoing conditions," the Governor-General
may resume possession of Mysore and administer it as he thinks fit. Such,
then, is a brief summary of the Constitution of Mysore; and it is most
necessary to dwell on it with some degree of minuteness in order to show
those Englishmen who are interested in Mysore, or who may be desirous of
settling there, that they and their possessions in that country are as
practically under British rule as they would be in any part of British
India.
I have previously pointed out that there is no income-tax in Mysore. I
have also alluded to the fact that, as the finances are in a flourishing
condition, and, beyond the subsidy annually levied, are free from any
obligation to contribute to the general expenditure of British India,
there are ample and certain means available for developing the resources
of the country. And that these means shall be devoted to that end
exclusively, I would call particular attention to the fact that it has
been laid down by the British Government that, after deducting the amount
set apart annually for the personal expenses of the Maharajah, the
remaining revenues of the province are to be spent on public purposes
only, under a regular system of an annual budget appropriation, and the
proper accounting for such expenditure. So that, taking all the
circumstances into consideration, it is clear that the settlers in Mysore
have advantages over any other settlers in India. The taxes they pay on
their lands are fixed and most moderate in amount, they have every
security that capital can enjoy, and they are living in a country which,
after an ample expenditure on public works of all kinds, has an ample
annual surplus. But, besides those circumstances, the settlers in the
province, and the inhabitants as well, have another advantage which must
by no means be lost sight of, for Mysore has a Representative Assembly,
which sits once a year, and which affords a ready means for publicly
ventilating any grievance, or making known any want which may be felt by
the community; and as there is no institution exactly like it in the
world, I propose to describe the constitution of the Assembly and its
proceedings with some degree of minuteness.
The Mysore Representative Assembly, then, which was originated by Mr.
Rungacharlu, the first Prime Minister of Mysore, was inaugurated on the
25th of August, 1881, or about five months after the accession of the
Maharajah, by the following notification:
"His Highness the Maharajah is desirous that the views and objects which
his Government has in view in the measures adopted for the administration
of the Province should be better known and appreciated by the people for
whose benefit they are intended, and he is of opinion that a beginning
towards the attainment of that object may he made by an annual meeting of
the representative landholders and merchants from all parts of the
Province, before whom the Dewan will place the results of the past year's
administration, and a programme of what is intended to be carried out in
the coming year. Such an arrangement, by bringing the people into
immediate connection with the Government, would serve to remove from their
minds any misapprehension as regards the views and action of the
Government, and would convince them that the interests of the Government
are identical with those of the people.
"The annual meeting will be conveniently held at Mysore immediately after
the close of the Dassara festival, which occasion will offer an additional
inducement to those invited to attend the meeting. For the present the
Local Fund Boards of the several districts will be asked to select from
amongst themselves and others of the district the persons who are to be
deputed to represent their respective districts at the meeting. In order
to represent the landed interests of all the Talooks (counties), as well
as the interests of trade, there should be sent one or two cultivating
landholders from each Talook, possessed of general influence and
information amongst the people, and three or four leading merchants for
the district generally. A list of them should be sent beforehand to this
office, in order to arrange for their accommodation in Mysore. They may be
allowed a small sum from the local funds to meet the actual expenses of
their travelling."
The Assembly thus constituted was, as will have been perceived at a
glance, a purely consultative body, and had no power whatever except (and
a highly important exception it is) that of publicly stating to the rulers
of the country all the grievances and wants of the people. The only
institution that I can hear of that at all resembles it is the Egyptian
General Assembly of the Legislative Council, but that, though a
consultative, and not at all a law-making body, has the power of putting a
veto on any new tax proposed by the Government. In constitution, too, it
differs widely from the Mysore Assembly, as the ministers have seats in
it, while in Mysore no Government official can be a member of the
Assembly. I may mention here that the Egyptian Assembly was initiated by
Lord Dufferin in May, 1883, and I would refer those interested in the
creation of representative institutions to his Report, No. 6 (1883), and
to the Report on Egypt, No. 3 (1892), by Sir Evelyn Baring (now Lord
Cromer), both being Blue Books presented to the Houses of Parliament. It
is interesting to note here that whereas Lord Dufferin took the first step
in the direction of representative institutions by uniting, in the same
assembly, Government officials, and members elected on the broad basis of
manhood suffrage, the native statesman began by carefully excluding the
officials, and allowing only the middle and upper classes to have anything
to do with the Assembly.
The first meeting of the Mysore Representative Assembly took place on
October 7th, 1881, when 144 members attended. The Dewan first of all read
the annual report on the administration of the province, and after that
the members were called up in succession and asked to state their
grievances and wants. At the end of the session the Dewan's annual
statement, or report, and an account of the proceedings of the Assembly,
are printed in English and in Kanarese.
The Assembly, as we have seen, consisted of members partly appointed by
the Local Fund Boards, and partly of members nominated through the agency
of Government officials, but at the conclusion of the Dewan's address of
October 28th, 1890, an important change in the constitution of the
Assembly was announced, and a new body of rules was issued. By these all
members were in future to be elected, and the qualifications entitling a
man to vote for, or be elected a member for a county (talook), were (1)
the payment of land revenues, a house and shop tax to the amount specified
in the schedule[11] for each county; (2) the ownership of land to the
value of 500 rupees a year, accompanied with residence in the county; and
(3) any resident in a county who is a graduate of any Indian university is
declared to be a duly qualified person. Those so qualified were to meet on
a certain day, of which a month's notice was to be given, and elect
members from amongst themselves. 212 members from the counties were to be
thus elected. The cities of Bangalore and Mysore return four members each,
and these must either pay a house or shop tax of twenty-four rupees, or be
a graduate of any Indian university; the nine Local Fund Boards return two
members each; the eighty-nine municipalities one for each municipality,
and associations representing approved public interests, and of not less
than 100 members, and also associations of smaller numbers, but recognized
by Government--as for instance the Planters' Associations--may depute one
member each, and the total of all the members is estimated at 351. By Rule
6 it is declared that "As the object of the Assembly is to elicit
non-official public opinion, no person holding a salaried appointment
under Government shall vote for, or be returned as, a member of the
Assembly." By Rule 7, each member is to prepare and forward to the deputy
commissioner a memo describing seriatim the representations and
suggestions he may desire to make at the meeting of the Assembly; and by
Rule 9 the memoranda are to be forwarded, with the deputy-commissioner's
remarks, to the Chief Secretary to Government. By Rule 10 all the members
are to hold a formal meeting at Mysore not less than three days before the
meeting of the Assembly, and should they decide at this preliminary
meeting to bring forward at the Assembly any subjects not mentioned in the
memoranda previously sent in by members, a supplemental list of such
subjects must be sent in to the Chief Secretary.
When announcing the adoption of these new rules, the Dewan alluded to the
fact that the constitution now given did not insure a full popular
representation, and stated that numerous practical difficulties stood in
the way of widening the representation. Finally he concluded by observing
that, "It is His Highness' sincere hope that the privilege he has now been
pleased to grant will be exercised to the fullest extent, and in the most
beneficial manner possible, and that it will be so appreciated by all as
to enable His Highness gradually to enlarge the circle of electors, so as
to give wider effect to the principle of representation in the
constitution of this Assembly."
To this, the first elected Assembly that ever sat in India, I was returned
as representative of the South Mysore Planters' Association. On the 11th I
proceeded to the city of Mysore, and on the 12th of October, 1891,
attended the preliminary meeting of members, which was held in the
Rungacharlu Memorial Hall--a fine building with a large hall, which has a
wide dais at one end, and a, very wide gallery running along three sides
of the hall. The meeting was held at 8 a.m. in the body of the hall,
where I found that a considerable body of people, who I presume were
mostly representatives, were present. The hall was arranged with benches,
very much as most modern churches are, and just below the dais was a long
table with chairs on one side of it. It was proposed that I, the only
European present, should take the chair, and I accordingly did so, being
supported on either hand by two members who had a fluent command of
English, and what was of more importance to me, of Kanarese, for, though I
had a colloquial knowledge of that language, I had not such a command of
it as was necessary for satisfactory public speaking. I accordingly read
out in English (which a certain number of the audience knew) each, measure
I proposed, and then informed the audience in Kanarese that one of the
members would explain the subject in that language, and I found that this
arrangement answered all practical purposes. The following measures had
been drawn up by me previously in Bangalore after consultation with some
leading members of the Assembly, and were printed and circulated amongst
the members present, and it may not be uninteresting to give some of them
here.
The first point taken up related to measures for the prevention of famine,
and, after some discussion, four proposals were unanimously agreed to, all
of them for the promotion of the digging of wells either by private
enterprise or through the agency of the State. The next point related to
fuel and fodder reserves, which it was agreed should be established on the
lands of all villages, or near all villages, wherever land suitable for
the purpose could be found. We then turned to a bill I had laid on the
table with reference to advances to labourers--an important and difficult
subject--when it was agreed that it should be referred to the Planters'
Association for consideration. An amendment on the waste land rules for
planting trees for timber and fuel was then considered and agreed to.
After this it was resolved that a Government agricultural chemist Ought to
be appointed, who would be competent to advise on agricultural practice,
cattle disease, etc., and give lectures on such subjects. We then took up
the subject of British interference with proposed irrigation works in
Mysore, and resolved that the Mysoreans should be allowed to have the full
use of the water of Mysore for irrigation purposes, and be free from any
interference as long as the water, or what is left of it, is returned to
its original channel. The subject of extradition was next considered, when
the representatives resolved that (1) complete reciprocity should be
granted between British and Mysore territory as regards warrants, and (2)
that British jurisdiction over railways in Mysore should be given up, or
at least as regards all matters of theft. It was next decided that at the
close of the session the representatives should continue in office till
new members were elected. After this it was agreed that Government
agricultural banks should be introduced. Then the representatives, having
sat for about four hours, adjourned till the following day.
On the 13th we met again accordingly at 8 a.m., and on this occasion sat
in the gallery, which was quite wide enough to accommodate the members. It
was proposed that I should take the chair, and I did so, and opened the
proceedings by introducing rules to regulate the discussion. These were
that the introducer of a proposed measure should be allowed ten, and a
discusser five minutes; that no one should interrupt or rise to speak
before the previous speaker had sat down, and that a discusser could only
be heard once. These rules were agreed to, and I found the last two of
great advantage in managing the proceedings. The first two, I was glad to
find, were hardly necessary, as anything in the shape of the British, or,
worse still, the Irish wind-bag, did not appear to exist amongst the
members.
The next subject taken up was that of organization, and on the assumption
that the Government would grant our prayer that the present members should
not be dismissed at the end of the session, but should continue to be
representatives till their successors were elected, it was resolved that
there should be a standing central committee of the Assembly, and also
district and county committees, and it was agreed that the first should
consist of twenty-two members--for Bangalore and Mysore city six members
each, one from each district, and one from each coffee planters'
association. Seven members to constitute a quorum. The district committees
were to consist of one from each county, and two from the head-quarters of
the district, five being a quorum, and the county committees of three
members. We then agreed to the members who were to form the central
committee and district committees, and, after that, that the Maharajah
should be formally thanked for his action on his part as regards the
Assembly, and that it should be prayed that the measures now asked for
might be granted. And finally, it was arranged that the standing central
committee should draw up an address to the Maharajah, embodying the views
and wishes of the representatives.
The meeting terminated at about 11 a.m., and immediately afterwards the
central committee sat upstairs in a room at an angle of the building, when
I was appointed chairman. We first took up the question of funds, and I
suggested that each member of the Assembly should subscribe one rupee.
This was agreed to, and I at once put a rupee on the table, and presently
there were about fifteen added, and a list was made out of those who had
paid. We then agreed that an address should be presented to the Maharajah
after the termination of the meetings of the Assembly, and afterwards it
was arranged that Mr. C. Rangiengar, B.A., Advocate, Mysore, should be
secretary to the central committee, spend the funds at his discretion for
printing and advertising, and render an account once a year.
The next day was a _dies non_ as regards the Representative Assembly, but
by no means so as regards the Rungacharlu Hall, which at eight in the
morning presented a most interesting appearance, being filled with a large
assemblage of native ladies who had met together to witness the giving of
the prizes to the lady students of the Maharanee's College. The Maharajah
presided on the occasion. Besides prizes for educational proficiency,
there were others for music and singing, and the winners of these played
and sang on a platform below, on one side of the dais. One of the
musicians, a tastefully-dressed young lady of thirteen, was a
granddaughter of Mr. Rungacharlu, the first Prime Minister of Mysore. One
of the prize-takers was a widow--plainly dressed as widows should be--and
as she came forward there was a loud clapping of hands from the women
spectators in the gallery. I found, on inquiry, that the reason of this
demonstration was that she had lately given a lecture which had been much
appreciated by the students. I have no space to give an account of the
proceedings, though I hope to do so on some future occasion, and can only
say that a more interesting and picturesque assemblage it would be
difficult to imagine.
On the day following, October 15th, the Assembly was formally opened at
twelve, when the Dewan presided at a table on the raised platform. He was
backed and flanked by the principal European and native officers of State,
while on his right sat Sir Harry Prendergast, V.C., the Resident at the
Court of Mysore. The English representatives, five in all, one of them
representing the gold mining interests of the province, had seats on the
platform, and so had as many representatives as there was room for. The
remainder occupied the body of the hall. The Dewan then opened the tenth
annual meeting of the Representative Assembly of Mysore, by reading the
already printed annual administration Report of the Province, and it may
not be uninteresting to quote the opening sentences of it:
"Gentlemen,
"By command of His Highness the Maharajah, I have much pleasure
in welcoming you to this Assembly, which meets here to-day for
the first time under the election system sanctioned last year.
You come here as the duly elected representatives of the
agricultural, the industrial, and the commercial interests of the
State. Last year, when His Highness was pleased to grant the
valued privilege of election, he was not without some misgivings
as to how the experiment would succeed, but it is most gratifying
to His Highness that, though unused to the system, the electoral
body has been able, in the very first year of its existence, to
exercise the privilege with so much judgment and sense of
responsibility as to send to this Assembly men in every way
qualified to speak on their behalf. That men representing the
industry and the intellect of the country should have already
taken so much interest in the scheme augurs well for the future
of the institution. His Highness asks me to take this opportunity
publicly to acknowledge the expressions of warm gratitude which
have reached him from all sides for the privilege of election
granted last year."
The Dewan then proceeded to make his statement of the Revenue and
Expenditure of 1890-91, by which it appeared that the Revenue for that
period--the largest ever realized by the State--was 145 lakhs of rupees,
or, at par,[12] L1,450,000, and the account showed a surplus of 23 lakhs,
or L230,000; but from this had to be deducted a sum for expenditure on
new railways, which reduced the surplus, or rather, disposed of it to such
an amount as to leave a balance of 12-1/2 lakhs, or L125,000. The budget
was then taken up in detail, and the Dewan showed in the most lucid manner
the financial position as regards the various heads of receipts and
expenditure, all of which I shall pass over except that relating to gold,
which the reader will probably find interesting, for, as the Kanarese
proverb says, "If gold is to be seen, even a corpse will open its mouth."
There was, then, an increase in State receipts from gold mining dues to
the extent of 37,000 rupees in the amount of royalty, while "Premia and
deposits on leases" brought in 71,000 rupees. The mines in the Kolar gold
field during 1890 extracted 106,903 ounces of gold. Three of them--the
Mysore, Ooregum, and Nundydroog--showed a considerable increase in
production over the previous year. The first increased from 49,238 oz. to
58,183 oz.; the second from 16,437 oz. to 27,351 oz., and the third from
6,129 oz. to 15,637 oz.
The Dewan then called the attention of the Assembly to the working of some
of the principal departments of the State, beginning with the railways,
and, after giving a very satisfactory account of the progress made,
concluded this branch of his subject by observing that "As regards our
main railway policy there will be no pause in the course of development,
and should our financial condition continue to improve, the next decade
will see the Province intersected with lines which, in the decade
preceding the rendition, were only thought of as remote possibilities." He
next remarked on other public works, and showed that in the last ten years
no less than 471 miles of entirely new roads had been opened up, while 218
miles of incomplete roads, which had been inherited at the time of the
rendition, had been brought up to standard. Then he turned to irrigation,
and stated that the large irrigation works commenced in former years were
advancing towards completion. And here the Dewan alluded to a matter of
the greatest importance, and to which I shall again return further on. It
appears that the Supreme Government had actually put a stop to certain
irrigation works begun by the Mysore Government on the ground that these
would lessen the supply of water from Mysore to British territory. As to
this the Dewan now observed on "The difference which had arisen with the
Madras authorities as to the rights of Mysore to the full use of its
drainage areas." The case had been laid before the Government of India,
and the Dewan said that "the basis for a solution of the difficulty has
been arranged with the Madras Government in a way that is likely to remove
to a considerable extent the check that the progress of our irrigation
works had received in tracts bordering upon the Madras Presidency."
The subject of well irrigation too had not been neglected, and the Dewan
pointed out that its protective value in times of drought is far superior
to tank irrigation, and observed that, "During the last famine the only
oases in the midst of the general desolate appearance of the country were,
besides the tracts watered by our river channels, those special regions
favoured with well irrigation." So important was well irrigation, that the
Government had resolved to make advances to ryots willing to construct
them, at a low rate of interest, and repayable by easy instalments in a
long series of years. In the event of water not being found, or found in
insufficient quantity, the Government had undertaken the risk of failure,
so that the farmer was placed beyond all risk of loss. And, in order to
facilitate the progress of such works, a special officer had been
appointed to give the advances on the spot, so as to avoid the delay
caused by the usual circuitous official correspondence.
I may here pause for one moment to remark on the great value of the
Assembly as regards any new measure like the one just alluded to, for it
often happens that from the scarcity of newspapers, and the inability of
the poorer ryots to purchase them, measures of great value are not taken
advantage of, or only are so after a long delay. Now an assembly like that
of Mysore provides an excellent means for distributing information on all
Government matters, and in one part of his address the Dewan particularly
requested the representatives from two important districts to explain
fully to the people certain matters, the particulars of which I cannot,
for want of space, give here.
The Dewan then went into the interesting subject of Forests, and it was
satisfactory to notice the progress that had been made in planting, and
that sandal wood had year after year been yielding an increased revenue.
The transition from forests to elephants was natural, and during the year
70 had been caught. Some died after capture and others were liberated. Of
the 44 retained, 41, of which 14 were tuskers, were sold for 50,705
rupees. Having fully discussed the elephants, the Dewan turned next to
education, and here he was able to record marked progress in every
direction, and especially in female instruction. There were now 97 girls'
schools in the province, and an important change had been made as regards
their immediate supervision, which was now exercised by local committees.
"The committees," said the Dewan, "have been given large powers of
management, and the initiative rests, in almost all cases, with them,
subject to the approval of Government." The object of this of course was
to interest the people in the subject, and the Dewan observed that "Female
education cannot become firmly established in the country until the people
begin to look upon the education of their girls, whether children or
adults, as necessary, and as obligatory as that of their boys. The
Government have thought that the best way of securing this result in the
infancy of female education is to leave as much as possible to the
intelligent and sympathetic guidance of local committees." After alluding
to the results of the archaeological survey, and dwelling on the fact that
during the past year 1,500 inscriptions were secured, some of which were
of great value and interest, the Dewan then took up the subject of excise,
and went into the reforms he proposed to institute as regards that
department. The census of Feb. 26th, 1891, was next alluded to, and by
this it appeared that, including the civil and military' station of
Bangalore, the population returned was 4,943,079 as compared with
4,183,188 in 1881, and 5,055,412 in 1871. The increase during the last
decade was thus very considerable, but Mysore has still some progress to
make before it can bring up its numbers to the census return of 1871,
nearly a million of persons having been swept away in the disastrous
famine of 1876-77. The municipal elections were next alluded to, and it
was announced that the cities of Bangalore and Mysore were to have an
extension of the electoral system. The important subject of the reform of
religious and charitable institutions (there had been several
representations made as regards these in previous years by members of the
Assembly) was next taken up, and it was announced that a specially
qualified officer had been appointed to "inquire into the subject on the
spot, and to carry out the needed reform in the case of each institution
under the general and special orders of Government, and, when once all
institutions are thoroughly reformed and placed upon a sound and efficient
footing, the future management of them on the lines laid down will, as
heretofore, have to be carried on by the local executive authorities."
After alluding to some contemplated reforms in the Civil Service of the
province, the Dewan concluded his able address by alluding to the
apprehensions of famine which had been consequent on the failure of the
rains, and congratulating the members on the fact that owing to good rain
having fallen only a fortnight ago, the threatened danger had now passed
away.
After the conclusion of the Dewan's address I then rose, and, as chairman
of the preliminary meetings of representatives, alluded to the subject of
the organization of committees which we desired to carry into effect, and
urged that, as far as possible, members should avoid going into petty
local grievances, and devote their attention to those large general
questions which affect the whole province. After I had sat down a
translation of the Dewan's address was then delivered in Kanarese, for the
benefit of the representatives who did not understand English, and the
Assembly afterwards adjourned till the following morning.
After the Assembly had adjourned the members of the central committee met
in a private room, and we agreed on the terms of the address to the
Maharajah. Then we returned to the Hall, as it had been thought advisable
to take up several matters which had not been discussed at our first
preliminary meeting, and it was again proposed that I should take the
chair. The first proposal made was that members, instead of being annually
elected to the Assembly, should be elected for three years, and this was
unanimously carried. A leading native member next rose and proposed that
no girl under ten years of age should be given in marriage. Then ensued a
scene of excitement that baffles description. The representatives who, the
moment before, had been quite calm and collected, and who looked so
passive that it seemed that nothing could have aroused them from a
condition of profound composure, became suddenly electrified. A burst of
tongues arose simultaneously all over the Assembly. Several members got up
and tried to speak at once, and one of these (I think I see him now), a
tall, stout, elderly man with a voice of thunder, and his appearance much
accentuated by an enormous bamboo pen which he had thrust behind his ear,
entered into an altercation with the proposer of the motion. I had no
president's bell, and if I had had one I am sure I might have rung it in
vain, and I thought it best to sit still for a little time, and let the
representatives liberate their minds. Presently, and the moment I saw the
first signs of an abatement of the excitement, I rose, and, with a slight
signal of my hand quieted the audience, and observed that, as this was a
subject as to which there was evidently much difference of opinion, and as
it was very desirable that, as regards the measures proposed at our
preliminary meetings,[13] there should be a complete unanimity of opinion,
I begged leave to suggest to the meeting that the subject might be
adjourned, and, if desired, brought up at the next day's meeting of the
full Assembly. This was agreed to, and a member then proposed that two
seers of grain (about equal to four lbs.) should be contributed yearly by
each ryot, and stored up in a public granary against times of famine.
This, I confess, I thought, and still think, a sensible proposal, as, in
the first burst of a famine it is very desirable, till trade operations
from a distance get under weigh, that local supplies should exist, but,
after some discussion, I found that the proposal met with such small
approval, that I did not think of putting it to the meeting. It was next
proposed, and as can easily be imagined, carried unanimously, that where,
from the failure of the rains, there was absolutely no crop whatever, a
remission of the assessment should be granted. Finally it was agreed that,
at the opening of the Assembly on the following morning, I should bring up
and speak on all the points that had been agreed to at the meetings over
which I had presided, and the meeting broke up at three o'clock. After it
was over several of the representatives expressed to me their gratitude
for the interest I had shown in the affairs of Mysore, and from the
numerous evidences I subsequently had of the appreciation of the natives,
I felt most amply repaid for the trouble I had taken.
On the following morning, Friday, Oct. 16th, the Assembly met at eight
o'clock, and I was called on to proceed with my address as chairman of the
preliminary meetings, and though I spoke as briefly as possible on each of
the points which had been agreed to, my speech lasted for one hour and
twenty minutes. After it was over the Dewan asked if any member desired to
speak on any of the points I had brought forward, but no one rose to do
so, which was satisfactory evidence that complete unanimity had existed as
regards the various points, and that I had correctly conveyed the opinions
of the representatives. The Dewan then called upon each representative in
turn to state any grievances, or make known any wants which his
constituents had desired him to represent, and a great many local wants as
regards roads, hospitals, telegraphs, etc., were brought forward. The
subject that excited most interest, and afforded some amusement, was that
of the age at which girls should be given in marriage, which had been
brought forward at the meeting of the day previous. Some discussion ensued
regarding it, when it appeared that the point as to which the
representatives were really most concerned, was that of elderly men who
had no children marrying again and again with the hope of getting them,
regarding which one of the representatives said to me in conversation, "We
object to old fogies marrying young girls." The point was especially urged
by one member, who argued in the most serious manner that, if a man when
in the prime of life had no family there was little likelihood of success
when he was between sixty and seventy years of age. This remark was
received with general laughter, and shortly afterwards the Dewan made a
judicious reply on the whole question, and said that, in his opinion, the
interference of the Government was inadvisable, and that the question was
one that ought to be settled by the people consulting privately on the
subject. Then the Assembly turned to other matters, and finally adjourned
at midday.
I may here mention that I subsequently had some conversation with natives
regarding the marriage question, especially as to the age for
consummation, when I found that the pressure of public opinion, and the
various discussions on the subject, which had appeared in the newspapers,
had already produced a considerable effect in delaying the time for
married girls leaving the paternal roof to join their husbands.
It may perhaps be not uninteresting to mention too that, on the afternoon
of the day on which I made my speech I fell in with two native gentlemen
who spoke to me about it. What I found had been particularly appreciated
(and very naturally so as water is of such vital importance in India), was
the firm protest I had made against the Supreme Government restricting the
Mysoreans as to the use, for irrigation, of the waters of Mysore on the
ground that a more extended use of them would lessen the supply to the
adjacent British territory. In the course of my speech, I made a very
telling point by supposing, for the sake of argument, that Mysore had, as
had been originally proposed, been annexed, and made an integral part of
the Madras Presidency. In that case, I asked, would the Government have
limited the supply of the water to the Mysore part of the presidency in
order to improve the more distant irrigated tracts in other parts of
British territory? I then argued that the British Government would
certainly not have done so, seeing that, to have so acted would have
diminished the means available for contending with famine, for, as I
fully urged, it is perfectly well known that the further the water travels
the greater is the waste from percolation and evaporation, and the smaller
the amount of land it can irrigate. If, then, the British Government would
not have so acted had Mysore been annexed, what right, I asked, had it to
interfere with Mysore regarding the use of its waters, and thereby to
increase the risks of famine in that country? It was no wonder, I
continued, that an English officer in the Mysore service had been heard to
say that he supposed Mysore would not be allowed to plant a tree, in case
it might precipitate some moisture that might otherwise pass over into
British territory.
I may here mention another remark which the above mentioned native
gentleman made as regards my speech. "It was not so much the speech as the
sense of fairness, and frankness, and sincerity which you showed that
impressed us." This remark showed, as I have often found, that the common
idea of natives always having recourse to flattery is a mistaken one, and
it was rather interesting to find the ideas of ancient times repeated by
one who could have heard hardly anything in the way of public speaking.
The reader may remember how Quinctilian in effect said that there is no
instrument of persuasion more powerful than an opinion of probity and
honour in the person who undertakes to persuade, and how it has been
pointed out that the powerful effect caused by the speaking of Pericles
really lay in the confidence which the people reposed in his integrity.
But it is time now to turn to the proceedings of the Assembly, which had
been adjourned to Saturday, October 17th.
On that day, then, we met at 8 a.m., and it was proposed by one of the
representatives that the collection of the land revenues should in future
be postponed till after the harvest, as the present times of collection
were inconvenient to the cultivators and often compelled them to borrow
money, or mortgage their crops in order to find money to meet the
Government demands. The change asked for was warmly urged by the speaker,
who gave very convincing reasons, which I have no space to repeat here, in
favour of the proposed alteration. After this speech was over the Dewan
turned to the head revenue officer and consulted him, and also two English
officials of great experience. I did not look at my watch, but I am sure
the consultation did not last five minutes. The Dewan then turned to the
Assembly and said, "This proposal is granted," and the decision was
received with loud applause. The chief revenue and settlement officer
afterwards told me that this was the most important point ever gained by
the Assembly.
I may pause here to remark that what I saw and heard at the Assembly,
combined with what I previously knew of the Mysore Government, satisfied
me that a more perfect form of government does not exist in the world.
Here, as we have just seen, was a most important measure gained for the
country after what was really a very short consultative meeting between
the ruler and the ruled. The ruler--in other words the Dewan--was sitting
like a judge on the bench, patiently listening to and taking notes of the
various wants of the people as the representatives came
forward--occasionally consulting with his officials--granting some things,
absolutely refusing others, and announcing sometimes that the subject
brought forward would be taken into consideration, while the
representatives seemed to be perfectly satisfied that the ruler would
willingly do, and was willingly doing, the best he could for the common
interest. I may mention that I was particularly struck with the dignified,
gentlemanly and friendly manner of the Dewan when consulting his English
officials, and there was evidently a mutual appreciation existing, which I
had afterwards distinct knowledge of when I subsequently heard some of
these officials alluding, in private conversation, to the Dewan. I have a
great dislike to the idea of being thought guilty of flattery, but I
cannot refrain from recording the remarkable fact that (and how rarely can
this be said of any public man), while I have heard much in favour of the
Dewan, I have never heard a single deprecatory remark made concerning his
administration of the province, either by natives or Europeans. Mysore is
indeed extremely fortunate in having such a man as Mr. Sheshadri Iyer,
since made Sir K. Sheshadri Iyer, K.C.I.E., at the head of affairs. He has
already been granted an extension of the usual period of office (five
years), and it is to be hoped that the very doubtful practice of selecting
a new man for this important office, even though there may be a valuable
one at the helm, may be put aside for at least some years more.
The Assembly sat on the two following days, and was concluded by the
presentation of an address to the Maharajah, thanking His Highness for
having instituted an elected Assembly, and praying that the various wants
brought forward might meet with favourable consideration. In all, the
Assembly, inclusive of the preliminary meetings of the representatives,
sat for eight days, and though there was much earnestness in discussion,
and much difference of opinion, not a single case of an exhibition of ill
feeling occurred, with the exception, as we have seen, of the occasion
when the marriage question was brought forward, though that may be called
an exhibition of warm and excited feeling rather than ill feeling.
As the reader will remember, the representatives have no power whatever,
except, and a very important exception it of course is, of ventilating in
public, and in the presence of the Dewan and the leading officers of
State, whatever grievances and wants they may desire to call attention to,
and the machinery for this ventilation is now so complete that the
requirements even of those inhabiting the most inaccessible corners of
the province can be readily made known to the Government. And now this
question naturally arises. When, if ever, is it probable that this
Assembly will demand for itself some direct power of controlling, or
directing the Government? As far as I could see at the time, or can see
now, the Assembly is never likely to ask for any power whatever, and I
confess that I was much struck with the fact that, though I had many
private conversations relating to the Assembly, both with natives and
Europeans, I never expressed myself, nor did I ever hear anyone express, a
desire that the Assembly should have any power. But after a little
reflection, the explanation of the absence of any such demand seems to be
extremely obvious, for if we look into the history of all parliamentary
institutions such as we have, we shall find that they have arisen
primarily from misgovernment, and I say primarily because such
institutions in the United States and in our colonies are merely
inheritances from the forefathers of the English founders of these
countries. The insuperable difficulty, then, in the way of those who
desire to create parliamentary institutions in India is, that there is no
misgovernment on which to start them, and that is why the Indian National
(so called, for there is nothing really national about it) Congress have
found it advisable, as a preliminary step, to try and persuade the people,
with the aid of lying and seditious pamphlets, that they are misgoverned.
If indeed I were the absolute monarch of Mysore I could certainly, I feel
sure, create Parliamentary Institutions, but only in one way that I can
think of. I should misgovern the country and worry and oppress the people,
and at the same time keep the Assembly going, and after a time I should
thus create a desire on the part of the representatives to have some means
of keeping me in check. But at present there is no one to keep in check.
The Government is really too good for the creation of any desire for
change. For the ruler of Mysore is not only desirous of meeting the people
half way, but even of anticipating their wants, and the people have a
ready means of making their wants known. And, when making known these
wants, their representatives are not only free from the expense and
annoyances to which Members of Parliament are exposed, but have a most
enjoyable time of it as well, for the Assembly is held at the time of the
great annual festival of the Dassara, when there are wonderfully
picturesque processions, illuminations, and displays of fireworks. In
fact, were it not for these attractions, I feel sure that it would be a
difficult matter to get the representatives together, because, though they
are of course easily able to find many wants, there are no grievances so
real as to make the people generally take much, or indeed any, interest in
the proceedings of the Assembly, and in this connection I may mention the
following confirmatory facts.
On the morning following the breaking up of the Assembly I left Mysore to
make a tour in Coorg to visit the plantations in that district, and drove
first of all sixteen miles to breakfast at a Travellers' Bungalow on the
main road. While breakfast was being prepared I went for a stroll, and
fell into conversation with the first native I met, who, I found, was,
with the aid of a number of labourers, working a plantation of palms and
fruit-trees at a short distance from the bungalow. I expressed a wish to
see the plantation, and, when on our way there, told him that I had just
been attending the Representative Assembly at Mysore. Just imagine my
feelings, when he told me that he had never heard of it, nor indeed when
he did hear of it did he ask me a single question about it. And yet we
were only sixteen miles from the capital, and on one of the main roads of
the province. He was, too, a man of fair intelligence and, though we
conversed in Kanarese, he told me that he knew some English, which proved
that he was a man of a certain degree of education. On my return to my
estates I found that, though the natives had heard of the Assembly
(probably because the native representative lived within a few miles of my
house), no one seemed to take any interest in its proceedings, and I do
not remember having been asked a single question with reference to it. The
explanation, of course, of this state of things is that the people are
perfectly contented, and satisfied with the steady progress they see going
on around them. There is therefore no demand[14] for representative
institutions, or the acquisition of power by the people, for while they
see abundant signs of progress, there is no oppression, and therefore
there are no real grievances. But, though there is no such demand, I must
caution the reader against supposing that I do not attach much importance
to the Assembly as a highly valuable means of bringing the people and
their rulers into friendly touch with each other, and as a most useful
means of inter-communication regarding every fact that it is important for
the ruler and the ruled to know. Such an assembly is indeed of the highest
value, and I have no doubt that a similar kind of assembly would be
valuable in many parts of India. And such assemblies will in the future be
far more necessary and valuable than such institutions would have been in
the past, because, in former times, the rulers, not being nearly so much
burdened with office and desk-work as they now are, had far more leisure
time to mix with the people, and hear from them the expression of their
wants or grievances.
I have alluded previously to the lying and seditious pamphlets which have
been circulated by the so-called Indian National Congress (and I say
so-called because, as we shall see, there is really nothing national about
it), and allude to them again partly in order to point out that they are a
most cheering evidence of the universal good government in India, because,
had it been really ill governed, there would have been no occasion to
issue the pamphlets in question. The fact is, that the agitators of the
Congress found it necessary to create a case as a ground-work for
demanding representative institutions for India, and began by imitating
the action of the Irish agitators. And here, for the benefit of those who
have not had time to study Indian affairs, it may be as well to give a
brief description of the Indian Congress, more especially as those who
know but very little of India may confound it with the kind of assembly we
have in Mysore, and which I have suggested for adoption in other parts of
India.
When I was passing through Poona in the year 1879, I was called upon by
seven leading members of the native community who knew of the interest I
had taken in Indian affairs, and in the course of our conversation they
made some remarks on the desire of the educated natives for some share of
political power. I then explained to them that, as it was clear that India
was entirely unfit for representative institutions, the only result would
be that power would be transferred from a limited class of Englishmen to a
very limited class of natives, which would be of no advantage to the
country whatever. My remarks were followed by a dead silence which was
broken by one of them saying, in a desponding tone, "you have educated us,
and you have made us discontented accordingly," thus illustrating very
forcibly what I suppose Solomon meant when he said, "He that increaseth
knowledge increaseth sorrow." But, however that may be, the utterance of
the native in question explains the origin of the Indian Congress which
was started in 1885 by a small number of the educated classes who began to
climb the political tree with considerable vigour, illustrating as they
did so the native proverb which tells us that "The higher the monkey
climbs the more he shows his tail." And, in fact, the members of the
Congress showed theirs so completely when they climbed to the top of their
political tree at Madras in 1887, that their proceedings would be hardly
worth noticing were it not that they might be the means of prejudicing the
proper claims of the natives to consultative assemblies like the one we
have in Mysore. With people less advanced as regards common sense than the
natives of India, and also less suspicious of the educated classes, the
Congress wallahs, as they are sometimes called, might have done some
mischief, but the only harm they have really done, and I consider it no
small harm, is to lower the educated natives in general in the ideas of
those who have not had an opportunity of knowing the best of them, and so
appreciating their admirable abilities and calm common sense. For when the
public knows, as all those who have paid any attention to the subject do
know, that the members of the Congress are now selling pamphlets which are
intended to bring the Queen's Government into hatred and contempt, its
opinion of the educated natives of India is not likely to be a high one.
And in order to make quite sure that the Congress is still selling the
pamphlets in question, I suggested to the secretary of the Athenaeum in
June, 1892, to purchase for the library of that club (and he accordingly
did so), from the Indian Congress office in London, a copy of the Congress
proceedings with which the pamphlets in question are bound up. And it may
not be uninteresting to note here that Mr. Dadabhai Naoroji, M.P., as a
leading member of the Congress, is therefore one of the sellers of the
pamphlets. It is, however, only fair to add, as an excuse for Mr.
Dadabhai Naoroji and his misguided associates, that they have, after all,
only followed on the track of the Irish agitators, and no doubt consider
that the preaching of sedition against the Government to whom they owe so
much is the proper course to pursue when aiming at political power. And as
an extenuation of their action it should also be considered that the
members of the Congress, who at first were acting in a perfectly
legitimate manner, eventually fell under the guidance of a retired member
of the Indian Civil Service--a certain Mr. Hume--who seems to have lodged
some of his own extravagant ideas in the heads of the raw and
inexperienced members of the Congress, and who is supposed to be the
author of the seditious pamphlets. And now let me give a brief account of
the Congress, and its aims and views.
The first Congress, which met in Bombay in December, 1885, consisted of
seventy-eight persons, who came from twenty-five places. They were neither
elected nor delegated, and how they came together does not appear in the
published proceedings of the Congress. The principal resolution passed on
the occasion related to the reforms of the various Indian Councils.
The second Congress, which was composed of 440 persons, who were partly
elected and partly delegated, and of persons who could produce no evidence
of being one or the other, met in Calcutta in December, 1886, and (p. 10
of Report of 1887) "passed a series of resolutions of the highest
importance," which is undoubtedly true, as the result of them would, if
carried into effect, practically be to substitute the rule of the Congress
for that of the Queen. This change was proposed to be effected by
reconstituting the Provincial, Legislative, and Governor-General's
Council, enlarging them, and giving "not less than one half" (p. 217 of
Report of 1887) of the seats to members elected through the agency of the
Congress. This proposed measure was justly considered by the delegates to
be the key of the position, as we shall more fully see when we come to the
consideration of the proceedings of the next Congress.
This, the third Congress, met at Madras in December, 1887, when 604
delegates (a large number of whom were lawyers and newspaper editors), who
"were appointed either at open public meetings or by a political or trade
association," assembled and passed no less than eleven resolutions. The
second, fifth and eighth of these are worthy of notice, as also are the
seditious political pamphlets previously alluded to, which, for convenient
reference, are bound up with the report of the proceedings.
The second resolution (p. 82 of Report of 1887) reaffirms the resolutions
of the two previous Congresses, which demand the expansion and reforms of
the various Indian Councils. Here the first speaker (p. 83) was a Mr.
Bannerjee, a newspaper editor, who in his introductory remarks in support
of the resolution assured the delegates that "the dream of ages is about
to be realized." We are not the legislators of the country, he further on
remarks, "though we hope to be so some day when the Councils are
reconstituted," and eloquent was the language of the speaker when he
subsequently dwelt on the fact that the power of making the laws would at
once give them every reform they could desire. Mr. Bannerjee was succeeded
by other native speakers, who dwelt warmly upon the advantages of
representative institutions, and these were followed by Mr. Norton,
Coroner of Madras, who most highly extolled the resolution. "That," he
said, "is the key of all your future triumph" (p. 90), and further on in
his speech he urges them to persevere up to the day "when you shall place
your hand upon the purse strings of the country and the government," for,
he continued, "once you control the finances, you will taste the true
meaning of power and freedom."
And here, after all the talk about the value of representative
institutions, and just as the Congress seemed to be on the verge of
recommending parliamentary institutions such as we have, the members
suddenly wheeled about and practically declared that India was unfit for
them by deciding (p. 91) that, as the rural districts might not elect
suitable members, the so-called representatives of the people were to be
nominated by an electoral college, which was to be composed of members
sent up from the various district and municipal boards, chambers of
commerce, and universities. The power of election was thus to be
conferred, to use Mr. Norton's words, on "a body of men who would
practically represent the flower of the educated inhabitants." These views
were much applauded by the delegates, who thus ratified the system of
nominating the so-called representatives, and which system, I may add, is
carefully laid down in Clause 2 of Resolution IV. of 1886 (p. 217). Having
thus most practically declared that India is quite unfit for
representative institutions in the ordinary sense of the word, Mr. Norton
proceeded to point out that, as the desired power for reconstituting the
government is not likely to be obtained in India, they must work on the
people of England, who at present believe, he says (p. 92), that the
Indian Government is "being beneficiently carried on." "You must disturb
that belief," he continued. In other words, he might have said, you must
do what the Parnellites did, or attempted to do, in England. And
accordingly the Congress wirepullers have set up an agency in London, and
have posted placards purporting to be an appeal from 200 millions of India
to the people of England.
But after all, the desired majority in the Indian Councils, which the
delegates rightly declared to be the key of the whole position, would be
insufficiently supported without an army and an armed population at the
back of it, and all in sympathy with the native soldiers in the English
service. These wants, however, are carefully attended to in Resolutions 5
and 8, which we will now briefly glance at.
Read by itself, the Fifth Resolution seems to be harmless, and even
laudable, for it expresses a desire (p. 123) for "A system of volunteering
for the Indian inhabitants of the country such as may qualify them to
support the Government in a crisis." But the writer of the introductory
article to the Report (p. 48) shows the great value the force would be in
bringing pressure to bear on the Government, and points out that, with
250,000 native volunteers, with many times that number trained in previous
years, and backed by the whole country, and with all the native troops (p.
49) more in sympathy with their fellow-countrymen than with the English,
the present system of government would be impossible. And it is further
pointed out in the introductory article that "This means a revolution--a
noiseless bloodless revolution--but none the less a complete revolution."
Then the writer reckons that these volunteers "will be backed by the whole
country," and this naturally leads to the consideration of the Eighth
Resolution, for the backing would obviously be of much greater value were
the whole population armed.
This Resolution (p. 147) demands the repeal of the Arms Act on account of
the "hardship it causes, and the unmerited slur which it casts on the
people of this country." Now as any respectable person can obtain a
license to carry firearms for under 4s., and as cultivators are granted
licenses gratis in order that they may, free of all charge, defend
themselves and their crops from wild animals, and as we know further from
the great number of licenses granted that there can be no difficulty in
obtaining them, it is evident that there can be no hardship in connection
with this Act--a conclusion which is further confirmed by the fact that,
in consequence of the number of guns in the hands of natives, wild animals
are becoming rarer, and, as I can personally testify, have in many cases
been almost completely exterminated. And if we consider further that the
necessity for taking out a license in India can inflict no greater slur
than is cast on the English in England by their having to take out gun
licenses, it is evident that the vehemently expressed desire for the
repeal of this Act is only explicable when read along with the previously
quoted remarks with reference to the native volunteering and the armed
population in sympathy with them at their back, and with the detonating
matter which appears in those seditious pamphlets to which I shall now
briefly refer.
These pamphlets, or rather translations of them, are printed at the close
of the Report of 1887, and complete our view of the situation, which may
be shortly described by saying that, while the delegates in the van
deliver speeches for English consumption full of expressions of loyalty
and praises of our rule, the wirepullers in the rear are distributing
pamphlets amongst the people in which all expressions of loyalty are
absent, while all the evils the people suffer from are attributed to our
Government, and the Queen's English officials are held up to execration as
types of everything that is at once brutal and tyrannical. The second
pamphlet gives us a dialogue between a native barrister, and a farmer
called Rambaksh, and between them as much evil is said of us and our rule
as can well be packed into so short a space. As an instance of the way in
which the English officials ill-treat the natives, Rambaksh declares that
because on one occasion he had not furnished enough grass for the horses
of the collector--Mr. Zabardust (literally a brutal and overbearing
tyrant), he had been struck by the Sahib over the face and mouth, and that
by his orders he (Rambaksh) had been "dragged away and flogged till he
became insensible. It was months before he could walk" (p. 209 of Report).
Then the India of the present is contrasted with what India would be if it
were under the rule of the Congress, and an allegorical comparison is made
between the village of Kambaktpur (the abode of misery) and that of
Shamshpur (the abode of joy). The moral is that British rule, which is
typified by the former, is making the people poorer and poorer, that
through it land is going out of cultivation, that oxen for the plough are
becoming scarce, that the villages are going to ruin, and that nothing
nourishes except the liquor shops in which the Government encourages
drinking, while the very irrigation works we are providing as a protection
against famine are described as an evil, and a mere pretext for extorting
more money from the people. The village of Shamshpur (the abode of joy),
on the other hand, is described in glowing colours, and we need hardly say
is the home of the institutions to be introduced by the Congress. The only
conclusion to be drawn from all this by the masses of India is, that the
sooner they rebel against the existing rule, and substitute for it the
rule of the Congress, the sooner will they leave the abode of misery, and
enter the abode of joy, where all the delights to be provided by the
Congress will be theirs. The imaginary dialogue concludes (p. 214) with a
demand for money to carry on the work, and the barrister suggests to the
farmer various injurious means for the collection, which Rambaksh promises
to carry out. He then tenders payment of some fees previously owing to the
barrister, who indeed receives the money, but magnanimously declares his
intention of enrolling Rambaksh as a member of the association, and paying
in the fees as a contribution from Rambaksh. "Blessed are the earnings of
the virtuous which go to the service of God," said the barrister, and with
this pious utterance the dialogue closes.
With the aid of these pamphlets in dialogue form, it appears, from the
statement in the introductory article of the Report, that the emissaries
of this Indian League have been gathering in money from the poorest
classes in India, down even to coolies. No less than 5,500 rupees, it
appears (p. 11), were collected from 8,000 persons, in sums varying from 1
anna to 1 rupee 8 annas, and some 8,000 rupees were contributed in sums of
from 1 rupee 8 annas to 30 rupees. But it is unnecessary to pursue further
the work of the Congress, and it is sufficient to say that its proceedings
were lately brought before the House of Commons, and that the action of
Mr. Hume, in writing and publishing a kind of proclamation of a most
objectionable character in connection with the Congress, was denounced in
the House of Commons in strong terms. It is time, however, to close these
brief remarks on the Indian Congress. It still exists, but in a
languishing form, and will probably gradually disappear. It has sought to
bring the Queen's Government into hatred and contempt. The only effect it
has had is to bring the educated classes of India into ridicule and
contempt in the minds of those who are imperfectly acquainted with them,
and perhaps to delay the extension of those Representative Assemblies
which are so well suited to the requirements of the inhabitants of India,
and the value of which I trust I have sufficiently shown.
Since this chapter was written I have met with a passage in one of the
speeches of a member of the Congress which is highly creditable to the
candour of the Congressionists, and which proves that we are quite right
in keeping in our own hands all, or nearly all, important executive and
governing power. The passage occurs in the Fourth Report of the Indian
National Congress (p. 49), and one of the members said on this occasion:
"But it is a fact, which no one present will call in question, that what
preponderates in the national character is quiescence or passivity, the
active virtues being thrown into the background, or remaining in a state
of dormancy." And further on the speaker says, "The virtues we are sadly
deficient in are courage, enterprise, the will to do and the heart to do."
(Cheers.)
These remarks, which were received with assenting cheers, should be read
in connection with those made on the Queen's Proclamation in the earlier
pages of this chapter.
I may observe finally that if the above-mentioned qualities are, as the
native speaker complains, deficient, it is simply because the climate of
India is not favourable to their production. As an Indian gentleman once
said to me in London, "Here I am glad to go out for a walk. In Madras I
find it an exertion to walk across a room." That explains our presence in
India, and the necessity for keeping all important active work in our own
hands. The natives are not at all to blame for being deficient in the
active virtues. We ourselves, our bull-dogs, and our vegetables would
alike decline without constant renewal by fresh importations from England.
FOOTNOTES:
[11] The landed qualification varies from 100 rupees to 300 rupees, and
the house and shop qualification from 13 rupees to 18 rupees. This
arrangement has evidently been made to suit the wealth or poverty of
particular parts of the country. This seems to be rather an inconvenient
system, and it is difficult to see why the lower rates of qualification
should not be made universal.
[12] For all practical spending purposes in India the rupee may be
reckoned at par. It is only when it requires to be turned into gold for
the purchase of articles in England that its gold value must be taken into
account.
[13] The meeting now held was, I am aware, quite out of order, but as the
Assembly had taken a new departure some laxness was permissible at first.
[14] On looking at the Government Report of the proceedings of the
Assembly for 1891 (which I may observe was not published till the year
following), I find that, though 340 members were elected, only 262
attended. No less than seventy-eight members failed to put in an
appearance, and the only probable explanation of this that I can give is
that these members felt that they had nothing in particular to represent
to the Government, and therefore thought that they might much better
remain at home.
CHAPTER IV.
NATURAL HISTORY AND SPORT.
After the numerous books that have been written on Sport in India, a
chapter on this subject might at first sight seem superfluous. So might,
at first sight, another novel full of what has been written thousands of
times before about love. And yet we never tire of hearing or reading of
either, and naturally, for both appeal to the imagination, and carry the
mind far away from business or carking cares, or, in other words, that
proverbial smoky chimney with which every house is provided. And if the
mere reading of love or sport makes men and women feel better because it
takes them away from themselves (we should have no mirrors in our rooms),
what must the reality of either be? For both dart through the system with
electric and delight-yielding force, and produce effects which, to those
who have not experienced them, are wellnigh incredible. And, as regards
big game shooting in particular, the effects are so astonishing that one
almost ceases to believe in them till another experience proves over again
that sport, or even the prospect of sport, can effect miracles, or at
least that it can cause an alteration in the system through the action of
the mind. And, some eighteen months ago, I realized this most vividly when
feeling much out of sorts, and indeed unfit for anything. For just at the
time of my deepest depression, news came in that a tiger had killed two
cattle in my plantation, and, what made the news much more acceptable,
two trespassing cattle--animals which are the plague of a planter's life.
The news acted like a charm. I at once felt slightly better, better still
when I arrived at the spot and saw the traces of the cattle having been
dragged along the ground, and the bodies of the slain--one more than half
eaten and the other untouched--and almost well when I returned to the
bungalow to make preparations for hunting up the tiger. There is no tonic
half so good as news of a tiger, and I feel that even news of a bear would
rival in a great many cases all that a doctor could do for me. But, though
tiger shooting is a valuable and delightful sport, it is equalled if not
eclipsed by stalking on the mountains amidst the beautiful and splendid
scenery of the Western Ghauts, when you traverse the forest-margined open
lands rifle in hand, feeling that everything depends upon yourself, and
followed by a tried and experienced shikari on whose keen sight and
coolness you can thoroughly rely. There are natives of course and natives,
just as there are Europeans and Europeans, but there are natives who have
been gifted with the greatest daring, coolness, and the promptest presence
of mind, and who are capable of much personal devotion to those who know
how to treat them. I was fortunate enough to have one of these in my
service, and to no sporting scenes in life can I look back with greater
pleasure than when I was able, with my trusted native follower, to spend
delightful mornings and evenings, and at certain times whole days, in
stalking bears, bison, and sambur in the Western Mysore mountains. Danger,
too, there was at times, and quite sufficient to give a pleasing amount of
adventurous feeling to the sport. Indeed, without this moderate degree of
danger the sport would have been of quite a different kind, for is it not
evident that all sport is to be divided into two widely different
classes--sport in which you are liable to be attacked, and sport where
the attack is all on one side? It is, in short, the danger, or the
possibility of danger, which is the vital elixir of big game shooting, and
which gives one, too, an opportunity of knowing oneself, and gauging one's
presence of mind, or the want of it, as the case may be. But what, after
all, is the amount of danger? That depends very much on the experience of
the sportsman. You may make big game shooting as dangerous as you please,
and by following up a wounded bear or bison in a careless manner meet with
an accident, but if proper precautions are taken, the danger of following
up these animals is by no means so great as is generally supposed. But,
though that is so as regards bears and bisons, I must caution the reader
against supposing that there is not considerable risk in following up
wounded tigers on foot, and there can be no doubt that, as Sir Samuel
Baker says, following a wounded tiger into the jungle on foot is a work of
extreme danger. But even this may be largely diminished if proper
precautions are taken, though it must be admitted that, from the great
difficulty of distinguishing a tiger lying amongst dried forest leaves,
there must be a considerable amount of risk, though the amount of it is
rather difficult to determine, but I may mention that though I suppose
upwards of forty tigers have been killed in the neighbourhood of my
plantation, only two natives have been killed when out shooting. Besides
these accidents, one man recovered from thirteen lacerated wounds, and
another was deprived of his ear and cheek by the blow of a wounded tiger's
paw. As regards the comparative risks to life of tigers, bears, and
panthers, I have only been able to meet with one return which throws any
light on the subject--a return which confirms the native view as to the
bear being more dangerous than the tiger, and the panther much less
dangerous than either. The return in question is to be found in the "North
Kanara Gazetteer," and was supplied by the late Colonel W. Peyton, who
wrote the section on Wild Animals. From this it appears that in North
Kanara, during the twenty-two years ending 1877, 510 tigers were killed
and 44 persons killed by them, one of whom was Lieutenant Power, of the
35th Madras Infantry. Between the years 1856 and 1882 51 bears were killed
and 22 persons killed by them, one of whom was Lord Edward Percy St. Maur,
second son of the Duke of Somerset. Between the years 1856 and 1877 805
panthers were killed and 22 persons killed by them. From these returns it
would appear that the bear is about four times as dangerous as the tiger,
that the tiger is about three times as dangerous as the panther, and that
the bear is about fourteen times as dangerous to man as the panther. As
regards comparative destructiveness to animal life, I may observe in
passing that the tiger seems to be more troublesome than the panther, and
that Colonel Peyton records between 1878 and 1882 4,041 deaths of cattle
killed by tigers against 1,617 killed by panthers. The bison (_gavoeus
gaurus_) would appear to be very seldom dangerous to man, if I may judge
by the fact that in his long experience Colonel Peyton does not record a
single death from the gaur, though he observes that it frequently charges
when attacked. In my part of Mysore I have heard of but one death, which
occurred in the case of a native who was tracking a bull which had been
wounded by one of my managers. The wild boars, I may here add, seem to be
now, from being much hunted, no doubt, more dangerous than they were in
former years. Within the last two years in my district five persons were
severely wounded by them, of whom three died. But it is natural that all
wild animals should become more dangerous the more they are hunted, and,
rather to my amusement, my old shikari, to whom I have previously alluded,
complained in a querulous and aggrieved tone that every animal--even the
sambur deer--seemed to charge one nowadays. And this is a fact worth
recording, and if wild animals are declining in numbers, it is some
comfort to think that the sport to be had from the remainder will improve.
But it is time to close these rather desultory remarks, and treat the
subject in a systematic manner, and I now proceed to say (1) something as
regards the natural history of Mysore, and (2) something as to the big
game shooting of the Province. I may here mention that all the anecdotes
given will either be interesting from a natural history point of view, or
told with the view of illustrating points likely to be of use to the
inexperienced sportsman.
As the author of the Gazetteer of the Province, in his opening sentence on
the fauna of Mysore, says with much truth, that "Nothing less than a
separate treatise, and that a voluminous one, could do justice to the
marvellous wealth of the animal kingdom in a province under the tropics
marked by so many varied natural features as Mysore," I need hardly say
that I have only space to make a cursory allusion to the subject. The
varieties of animals, reptiles, birds, fish, and insects are indeed very
numerous, and though Mr. Rice informs us that he has only made an attempt
to collect the names of the main representatives, he enumerates no less
than 70 mammals, 332 birds, 35 reptiles, 42 fishes, and 49 insects, though
only the leading families of the last are given, and many kinds of fish
have not been identified. But, though I cannot, as I have said, go at any
length into the subject, I can at least, give the names of the animals and
birds which are of more or less interest to sportsmen, and perhaps touch
upon some which are mainly of interest to the naturalist. There are then
to be found in Mysore, elephants, tigers, panthers, hunting leopards,
bears, wolves, jungle-dogs, hyenas, and foxes. Amongst the graminivorous
animals I may mention the _gavoeus gaurus_, commonly called bison (a
name to which I shall adhere as it is the one in common use), the sambur
deer, the spotted deer, the hog deer, and the barking deer or jungle
sheep. There are four kinds of antelopes, the nilgei, four-horned
antelope, the antelope, and the gazelle. Of the birds, I may mention 12
varieties of pigeons, 2 of sandgrouse, 2 of partridges, 8 of quail,
peafowl, jungle-fowl, spenfowl, bustard, floriken (a kind of bustard),
woodcock, woodsnipe, common snipe, jacksnipe, painted snipe, widgeon, 4
kinds of teal, and 5 of wild ducks. I may mention that there are 9 kinds
of eagles, 20 kinds of hawks, and 13 varieties of owls. As regards
reptiles, crocodiles are the only ones that sportsmen take any interest
in, and they are to be found in many of the rivers of Mysore. Fish of
various kinds are to be found in the numerous large tanks in Mysore,
though I may add, that some of these pieces of water would elsewhere be
called lakes, as they are sometimes upwards of twelve miles in
circumference. The well-known mahseer abounds in the rivers of the Western
Ghauts of Mysore, and gives excellent sport, and in the opinion of some
anglers, superior to salmon fishing. I have said in my first chapter on
coffee, that the life of a planter to any one fond of nature and an open
air life is an agreeable one, so agreeable that, though from accidents of
fortune no longer dependent on coffee, I still find it the most pleasant
life in the world, and return to it annually with pleasure, and I think
that the mere enumeration of the varied forms of animal life, which are so
interesting both to the sportsman and the naturalist, will go far to
justify my conclusions. Having thus glanced at a part of the fauna of the
province, I now proceed to the big game shooting section of my chapter,
but, before doing so, I may mention that it is stated in the "Mysore
Gazetteer" (Vol. II., p. 13) that, according to old legends, the lion was
once to be found in the Province.
Of elephants, and elephant shooting, I have had no experience. In Mysore
and in British India they are reserved by the State which, from time to
time, captures the elephants by driving them into large inclosures, and
there is a record of one of the sales of captured elephants in my second
chapter. But the reader need not regret my want of experience here, as it
would be difficult for any one to add to the admirable and exhaustive
account of elephants and their ways which is to be found in the late Mr.
Sanderson's[15] admirable work. His death is really much to be lamented,
for he was not merely a destructive sportsman, but an intelligent and
sympathetic observer of the wild animals he lived amongst, and I think I
am only repeating current opinion when I say that a more admirable and
interesting work of its kind never was written. Mr. Sanderson, I may
mention, was specially employed by Government to superintend the capture
of herds of elephants, and also to hunt man-eating tigers, and tigers of
obnoxious character.
Tigers, as to which I shall have, I am afraid, rather too long an account
to give, are fairly numerous in the forests of the Western Ghauts, and
some other parts of the country, if I may judge by the fact that rewards
were paid for 68 in 1874, and for 100 in 1875, but in former times they
were much more numerous in certain parts of the province, a fact which is
testified to by General Dobbs, who when a young man was in civil employ in
the Chittledroog division of Mysore in 1834. He mentions in his
"Reminiscences of Life in Mysore"[16] that his division was infested with
wild beasts and, to reduce their numbers, he obtained from one of the
officials a plan of a pit 12 feet long, 12 feet deep, and 2-1/2 feet wide,
closed with brushwood at both sides and one end. Wooden spikes were fixed
at the bottom, and the top of the pit was covered over with light
brushwood. A sheep or goat was then tied inside at the closed end, where
there was standing place left for it. As tigers usually spring on their
prey they are thus sure to fall through the light brushwood into the pit.
"In a short time," writes the general, "48 royal tigers were thus
destroyed, four of which were brought to me on one morning. Mr. Stokes,
the superintendent of the Nuggur division, obtained from me the plan of
these pits, and in an equally short time caught upwards of 70 tigers. Now
comes a circumstance which I can vouch for, but cannot explain. In a short
time the success in both divisions terminated, and never again did a tiger
fall into one of these pits, though numbers of tigers continued to infest
the country." One result of the success obtained is worth recording. The
balance of nature had been destroyed; the tigers to a great extent lived
on wild pigs, and these, after the destruction of the tigers, multiplied
so rapidly that the general records that there was an increased
destruction of extensive sugar plantations. And I may note in passing,
that the balance of nature may equally be destroyed from the other end of
the line, and tigers made much more destructive than they otherwise would
be. This is remarkably so near the western passes of Mysore, for never
were tigers more numerous or destructive than they have recently been in
my neighbourhood, and this is clearly to be traced to the great
destruction[17] of deer, pigs, and bison by the natives in the immediate
vicinity of the great forests, a subject to which I shall afterwards have
occasion to allude.
The sudden spread amongst the tigers of the news about these pits is
really very remarkable. We know that animals and birds are taught by
example and experience to avoid certain dangers--that birds, which are at
first killed in considerable numbers by telegraph wires, gradually learn
to avoid them, and that hares which are at first excluded by rabbit
netting in the course of time take to jumping it, but it is certainly
impossible to explain by anything we know as regards the spread of
experience amongst animals as to how the news could spread amongst the
tigers, over a tract of country about half as large as Scotland, for traps
were set in two out of the four divisions into which Mysore was then
divided.
It has often been a subject of remark that tigers, without any motive that
we can even guess at, avoid certain parts of the country which, to us,
seem to be equally favourable to them. This is remarkably so in my
district in Mysore, parts of which, apparently quite as suitable for
tigers as other parts, have never been known to hold one. It is also
remarkable that they invariably cross from one range of hills to another
by almost exactly the same route, at least such is my experience. These
tiger passes as they are called by the natives are well known to them.
There is one about a mile and a half to the north of my bungalow, and
another at about the same distance to the south, and between these two
points I have never heard of the track of a tiger being seen except on one
occasion.
It seems singular that, as so much has been written about tigers, there
should be any dispute as to the way in which the tiger usually seizes its
prey, but I find that Mr. Sanderson differs widely from Captain Forsyth,
and Captain Baldwin and others, and says that, though the tiger does
occasionally seize by the nape of the neck in the case of his having to
deal with very powerful animals, his usual method is to seize by the
throat; and another sportsman of great experience tells me that, though he
has seen hundreds of kills, the seizure was always by the throat. In my
part of the country it is so much the usual method for the tiger to seize
by the nape of the neck, that a native, when asked if he is sure that it
was a tiger and not a panther, always puts his hand to the back of his
neck, and if he says that the animal was seized by the throat, we
invariably assume that the seizer is a panther. As Mr. Sanderson was a
most careful observer, I cannot doubt the correctness of his experience,
and as little can I doubt the experience in my neighbourhood. But this
apparent discrepancy may easily be explained, and I regard it as probable,
or even quite certain, that tigers may vary their method of attack in
accordance as they live mainly on game or mainly on village cattle. In the
case of a bison, a wild boar, or of a large and powerful village buffalo,
Mr. Sanderson admits that the seizure is by the nape of the neck, and that
no doubt is the rule with the forest tigers, such as those that have been
killed near my estate, and which have lived mostly upon game, but I can
easily conceive that tigers that have lived on village cattle would attack
in a different way.
There is also another difference between Mr. Sanderson and other sportsmen
as to the tiger killing animals with a blow of its paw. Mr. Sanderson does
not in the least believe that the paw is so used, but Captain
Williamson[18] considers the paw as "the invariable engine of
destruction." "I have seen," he says, "many men and oxen that had been
killed by tigers, in most of which no mark of a claw could be seen." I
have not paid much attention to this subject, but I do recollect one
instance of a bullock that had been killed by a blow of the paw, as I
remember being struck by the fact that there was no apparent cause of
death, but on a closer examination I found a wide bruise, evidently from
the tiger's paw, on the side of the head. A friend of mine of great
experience tells me that he has known of animals being killed by a blow
of the paw. That men are commonly killed by a blow of the paw on the head
I have little doubt. Captain Williamson mentions a case that occurred in
his presence, and I knew of a doctor who had examined seven bodies, and in
each case the skull had been fractured by a blow of the paw. General
Rice,[19] when giving an account of the seizure of Cornet Elliot, mentions
that he had a narrow escape from a blow of the tigress's paw, which he
guarded off with his uplifted rifle. The stock of the rifle was marked
with the claws, while the trigger and guard were knocked completely flat
on one side, so that the gun was useless until repaired. There is no
doubt, then, that the tiger can, and does sometimes, use his paw with
deadly effect, though I have little doubt that he prefers to use his
teeth, as the shock of a blow to the paw must, in the case of a bullock at
any rate, be very considerable.
The carrying power of tigers is very great, and has often been remarked
on, but it has been doubted whether they often carry off an animal without
some part of it dragging on the ground. Mr. Sanderson gives some instances
of their doing so; and I have known of one instance in my neighbourhood
where a tiger after killing a bullock took it into the jungle and carried
the carcase along the trunk of a tree which had fallen across a ravine.
But considering its size, the dragging power of a panther is much more
remarkable, and it seems to carry off a bullock as easily as a tiger does.
On one occasion a panther killed a donkey close to my bungalow, and
carried it off, and had even attempted to jump up the bank of an old ditch
with it, which was five or six feet high, but had failed in the attempt
and abandoned the carcase. But why the panther did not drag the donkey
down to another part of the jungle, where it could easily have dragged the
carcase into it, is difficult to conceive, unless we suppose that these
animals have not, after the failure of one plan, mind enough to try
another. Perhaps this is so, or that they take the pet in a case of
failure and go off in disgust. I imagine that this kind of feeling must
influence tigers, for I once found an uneaten carcase of a bullock wedged
between two rocks. A tiger had killed, high up on a mountain side, and
taken the carcase into the nearest ravine, evidently with the view of
dragging it towards the water further down the hill. On his way he had to
pass through a narrow passage between two rocks, and here the carcase
stuck fast, and he had in vain tried to pull it through, but it had never
occurred to him to pull it out backwards (which he might easily have done
when the carcase was only slightly wedged) and try another route. But,
after all, we must not be surprised, at this, as even the human animal
does not always readily find the solution of a fresh difficulty. Tigers,
it is well known, are good swimmers, and seem to have no difficulty in
taking the carcase of a bullock with them, if I may judge by the fact,
which was told me by a friend, that a tiger once swam eighty yards across
a river in the northern part of Mysore, taking with it the carcase of a
newly killed bullock.
Tiger shooting in the Western Ghauts is always carried out without the aid
of elephants, and it is seldom that one can obtain, even for the first
shot, a fairly safe position. Colonel Peyton, whom I have previously
quoted, says that a man is not safe under sixteen feet from the ground,
but it is seldom that such an elevation can be obtained, as the country is
so steep that, though you have a fair drop on the lower side of the tree,
a tiger from the upper side may easily spring on to you, and is then
generally on your level, or even higher. Of course you select a tree
where, in theory, the tiger must come on the lower side, but tigers will
often take most eccentric courses, and last year, after having taken up a
position on a tree which had a drop of eight feet on the lower side, and
where it was assumed by all of us as certain that the tiger would pass
lower down the hill, it came on the upper side, on rather higher ground
than the cleft I was sitting on, and so close that I could have touched it
with a spear, and had I not fatally crippled it at the first shot, it
might easily have jumped on to me. But I entirely agree with Colonel
Peyton that it is always best for several reasons to get into a tree, even
though it may not be a high one, or indeed into a scrubby tree so low that
your feet are only some five feet from the ground. In the first place, you
can command a wider view, then you are concealed, and can let the tiger
pass your line, and as the tiger could pass under your feet you are not in
his way, and there would be little chance, if you reserved your fire till
he had passed, in his either attacking you or being driven back on the
beaters. Colonel Peyton, whom I quote with great confidence, is in favour
of a bamboo ladder with broad rungs to sit on, and which will enable you
to have your feet eleven feet from the ground. To illustrate the risk of
sitting on the ground, I may mention the following incident:
Many years ago news was brought that a tiger had killed cattle some six or
seven miles off. The distance was considerable, the news came late, and it
was, I think, about three in the afternoon when I reached the spot. The
beaters were all ready and impatient, no doubt, owing to being kept
waiting so long, and as I did not wish to delay them, and had no ladder,
and there was no suitable tree, I took a seat on the ground behind a bush
which lay on one side of, and about twenty yards from, a depression in the
land through the bottom of which, by all the laws of tigers, the tiger
ought to have passed to the main forest beyond. I had no sooner seated
myself than I saw, from the lay of the ground, that if the tiger should
happen to break at a point in a line with my bush he would probably gallop
on to the top of me before it would be possible to make more than a snap
shot. I at once left the spot and climbed a small tree on the opposite
side of the depression, and this enabled me to have my feet some five feet
from the ground. Presently the beat began, and with a roar, and an evident
determination to charge anything in his way, a very large tiger broke
cover at full speed and went exactly over the very spot of ground I had
been sitting on. At the pace he was coming at I do not indeed think he
could have stopped himself, and I hardly think I should have had time to
fire, and I have often wondered what would have happened had he galloped
on to myself and my man. However, as it was, I was all right, fired just
as he passed the bush and knocked him over with one shot, and put another
into him as he got half up and struggled into the jungle, apparently with
his back broken, and lay down about a few yards aside of it. And now by a
curious coincidence we just missed what must have been a very serious
accident, and this is well worth mentioning, as it confirms what another
writer has said as to the care that should be used in approaching a tiger
supposed to be dead.
After the beat was over the beaters rushed up, and one of the natives, who
had no doubt seen the tiger from a point on the hill above, said, "His
back is broken, and he must be dead; let us go in and drag him out."
Feeling that it would be better to wait a little longer to make quite
sure, I said, just to quiet them, "Stand the people in line and count them
for the division of the reward." I had not counted more than five when up
got the tiger close to us with a startling roar, and I then experienced
what Colonel Peyton has said, namely, that there are very few even of the
stanchest sportsmen who will not draw back a pace or two at the sudden
roar of a wounded tiger. On this occasion I removed more than that, for I
at once seized a rifle and ran several yards up the hill to gain the
advantage of the ground, and I need hardly say that there was a slight
scatter amongst the unarmed natives. But as the tiger did not charge out,
I saw that he was probably off, and at once ran down the side of the
jungly ravine to head him, and at the first break in the jungle got up
into a tree. The tiger almost immediately appeared on the opposite side of
the ravine, going steadily along, and showing no signs of being wounded
whatever, and I fired at, but missed him, partly on account of my awkward
position in the tree and partly from excitement. Then I ran on to the next
open break in the jungly ravine, and again got up into a tree. By this
time the beaters came up in the rear of the tiger, who refused to go
further down the ravine, or was unable to do so, and the natives sent to
me to go up and attack the tiger in the jungle, to which I replied by
requesting them to be good enough to forward the animal to me. However, as
he refused to move, and it was getting late, I went up the ravine, and
they pointed out the tiger, which was lying on its side. I fired a shot at
it, when it got up, then I fired another at once, and it fell and died
almost immediately. This was by far the largest tiger ever killed in our
district, and an old sportsman who had seen much of shooting during a long
residence in India told me that he was sure he had never seen a larger
skin, and did not know that he had ever seen one as big. As evidence of
size, he attached, I may mention, great importance to the width of the
skin of the tail just at its junction with the body. The paws of this
tiger, too, were remarkably larger than those of other tigers. I found
that the first bullet had taken effect in the neck, which it had no doubt
grazed with sufficient force to paralyze the tiger for a time, and Colonel
Peyton records a similar case where great risk had been incurred from
approaching a tiger apparently dead, but where the spine had been merely
grazed.
What I have previously mentioned illustrates one danger from sitting on
the ground, and I may give another instance which occurred to me in 1891.
I had gone after a tiger, and my shikari had prepared an excellent seat on
a tree at an absolutely safe height. The tiger, however, had shifted his
ground, it appears, to an adjacent jungle. This consisted of one long and
rather deep ravine, with several spurs at which the tiger might break. It
had several times previously happened that tigers had come up the bottom
of this ravine, and I had once killed one there from a tree in the jungle,
but the trees so situated are difficult to ascend, and we did not wish to
make a noise nor to waste time by making a ladder, so I determined on
sitting on the ground in the jungle, about twenty yards from the bottom of
the ravine, and made myself perfectly comfortable. While keeping an eye on
the bottom of the ravine up which the tiger was expected to pass, I was
suddenly startled by a roar from some little distance behind us. My old
shikari at once saw the danger we were in, and looked extremely disturbed,
and no wonder, for he saw at once that the tiger had been driven back by a
stop at one of the spurs, and might come down on us from behind, so that
we should have had no chance of seeing him till he was almost on the top
of us, and as a matter of fact he did pass down into the ravine rather
higher up and just out of our sight, and from this we failed to dislodge
him. On the whole, for every reason, I am much against sitting on the
ground. You are liable to be run into sometimes, as we have seen, and at
others you are not high enough up to command the ground, and there is a
greater chance of driving a tiger back on the beaters. There are, however,
occasions when one must sit on the ground, and if you have occasion to do
so, it is of course advisable always to try and get about twenty or
thirty yards on one side of the course the tiger is likely to take, and
always let him pass your line of fire before firing. It is also of great
importance to have as your second man one who can remain absolutely
motionless when a tiger is advancing towards him. To illustrate the
importance of this I may mention the following incident:
I was posted one day in a tree, when the tiger charged back through the
beaters with a roar, and I had at once to get down and run to another
point of the jungle to cut him off. I then tried to get up a tree on the
grass land near the edge of the jungle, and next tried another a little
further off, but could not got up into it, and when the beat recommenced
there was nothing for it but to sit down beside a bush about one hundred
yards from the jungle, and on ground on almost exactly the same level as
the tiger would have to traverse. But this bush was so small that it only
partially concealed me, and the entire body of my native second gun-bearer
was exposed to view. This man fortunately had a most remarkable power of
sitting absolutely motionless under any circumstances which required
stillness. I also was fully prepared to remain quite still, and arranged
myself so as to fire at the tiger when he was exactly in front of me. It
was interesting to observe what followed. The tiger was evidently an old
hand. He had anticipated our plan, and charged back through the beaters,
as we have seen. He had also evidently anticipated the alterations we
should probably make, and when the beat recommenced he cautiously emerged
from the jungle and looked up (it is a rare thing for a tiger to do this)
into the tree near the edge of the jungle into which I had tried to climb.
He seemed then to be quite satisfied that all danger was at an end, and
strolled leisurely towards us. As he was passing the point which put the
whole bush between me and him, I cautiously levelled my rifle, which I
already had in almost exact position to fire, so that when he came into my
full view I had the sight on the second stripe behind the shoulder. By a
curious coincidence he stood quite still when he came into my full view,
and, as he was only about twenty yards away, presented a very fine sight.
But I reserved my fire till he had moved forward a pace or two, and then I
fired, and on he bounded. Then followed one of those picturesque,
exciting, and somewhat amusing scenes, which can only occur in tiger
shooting on foot. For the leisurely proceedings of the tiger had given the
beaters time to get to the end of the cover just as I was firing at the
tiger, and as I ran round the hillside to the other side of a ravine which
ran down the hill, they ran forward so rapidly and plunged so suddenly
into the jungle, that the tiger came out just below me. I fired at him,
and so did one or two of the natives who had run up to join me, and the
tiger fell dead in the air in the middle of a long bound. But running and
excitement are not favourable to accuracy of aim, and the tiger, on this
occasion, was struck by only one ball, and, strange to say, in the sole of
the foot, and the only bullet-mark on his body was from my first shot at
him. My account of the incident may be valuable to an inexperienced
sportsman, and illustrates also the peculiar disadvantage of sitting on
the ground, because if the tiger had walked straight up to me, and I had
fired at him in the face, which I should have been obliged to do, he
would, if not killed outright, probably have either gone back amongst the
beaters, or charged me.
I have alluded to my second gun-carrier on this occasion as being a man
who had the greatest power of remaining still under all circumstances, out
shooting, when it was necessary to do so, and I may also mention that he
was a man who combined the greatest coolness with the greatest daring. He
was of a Hindoo peasant family, entered my service as a workman, rose to
be a duffadar or overseer, and for many years has been head overseer on my
coffee estates, and he is as good as a planter as he is as a shikari. I
could give many instances of his cool daring. On one occasion a wounded
tigress--it was the cold weather season, when everything was still green
about the edges of the jungle--went into a ravine which was flanked by a
great bed of ferns about five feet high. The natives looked at this bed
into which the tigress had disappeared with considerable doubt, and one of
them said, "How is anyone to go in here?" "I will show you," said Rama
Gouda quietly, and he picked up several large stones, threw them into the
ferns, and then plunged into them. I afterwards killed the tiger on foot
in the ravine, but of course he ran the risk of coming upon it in the
ferns. But the coolest thing I ever knew him to do was when a manager of
mine wanted to fire at a tiger as it was approaching him. It was in the
days of the muzzle-loaders, and as Rama Gouda knew that to speak would be
fatal, he quietly but firmly put both his fingers on the caps when my
manager presented the gun at the tiger, and kept them there till the tiger
had reached the proper point for action. Then he withdrew them, and my
manager killed the tiger. It is contrary to all rule, on account of the
beaters, to fire at a tiger till he has passed you, and as the manager and
Rama Gouda were seated on the ground, if the tiger had been fired at face
to face an accident might have occurred. On only one occasion did I ever
see him disturbed, and that was when he took up a position at a beat for
big game. Presently he heard a hiss, and on looking round found a
reared-up cobra about to strike at his naked thigh. He saved himself by a
jump on one side, but he showed by his eye when he mentioned the
circumstance that he had been somewhat commoved.
The natives have an idea that a tiger will not attack a group of from
four to five people massed together, and in 1891 four or five unarmed
natives proposed that I should sit on an absolutely bare piece of ground,
and that they should sit round me, and that the tiger should be driven up
to us. But this offer, and more especially as I had only one gun, I
declined, with thanks, unless they could find a small bush or piece of
rock to sit behind, and as neither could be found, I took up a position on
a steep hillside and on a scrubby tree, which I thought safe enough, as I
assumed that the tiger would pass on the lower side of it, but it
approached close on the upper side, and on rather higher ground, and could
easily have sprung on to me, as it was not more than fifteen feet distant,
thus again illustrating how difficult it is in a hilly country to get into
a reasonably safe position. Altogether, the risks of tiger shooting in a
hilly country where elephants cannot be used, and where you may have to
run to cut off a wounded tiger or follow one into the jungle, is attended
with risk even to the most experienced. The amount of that risk is
difficult to determine, but I may say generally it is such that while
bachelors, or married men of independent means whose families are well
provided for, in short, people whose lives are of no cash value, may
freely go into the jungle on foot after wounded tigers, and generally
throw themselves in the way of the animals, I do not consider it right for
a married man, whose family is dependent wholly or partially on his
exertions, to go after tigers on foot, or without the aid of elephants,
for though a man may resolve to stick to safe positions, they are often
difficult and sometimes impossible to find, and the excitement soon does
away with all feelings for one's personal safety.
Though I have no doubt that it is, generally speaking, true that a tiger
will not attack a group of four or five people, I am not at all sure that
this is correct as regards a wounded tiger, and a tiger I had wounded once
sprang into a party of I should say at least twenty people, and killed
one of them--at least the poor man died in the course of a few hours. I
always regretted that I did not obtain and preserve his belt. At the back
of it was the iron catch with which to hitch his wood-knife, and the
tiger's tooth had grazed one side of the iron, and cut it as if one had
worked at the iron with a steel file. Another instance too occurred of a
tiger attacking a party, or at least one of a party which was approaching
a tiger. Several tigers, it appeared, had been marked down, and the jungle
in which they were was surrounded by nets. This was done in Mysore on the
arrival of the Russian princes some years ago, but one of the tigers had
managed to elude the shooters, and, as the native magistrate of the
district was anxious to have it killed, a sporting photographer who was
there undertook to look it up. As they approached the thicket in which the
tiger was concealed the tiger rushed out with a sudden bound, aimed a blow
with its paw at the leading native, tore his scalp right off and flung it
on to a bush, bit the man in the arm, and retreated into the thicket with
such suddenness that no one had time to fire. The poor man afterwards
died.
The great danger from following up wounded tigers on foot in the jungle
arises from the extraordinary difficulty of seeing the animal when it is
lying amongst dry fallen leaves, into which the body partially sinks, and
this is more particularly the case if there is a flickering sunlight
coming though the branches of the jungle trees. In one case of this kind,
though I could see the tiger when it half raised itself up--it had been
wounded in the back--I failed to pick it up the moment it sank back into
the leaves; and my shikari told mo of another similar case he had seen
when there was a similar flickering light. But even without that source of
confusion to the sight a tiger is extremely difficult to see, as difficult
as a hare in a ploughed field, or perhaps more so. On one occasion Rama
Gouda said to me, when we were attacking a wounded tiger, or rather
tigress in the jungle, "There is the tiger." "What!" I said, "that thing
looking like a stone?" The light was bad. We both supposed it to be dead,
but I said, "I suppose I had better take a shot at it," and did so, and,
when the smoke cleared away, found that the tiger had removed. Then a
native went forward and gently parted the reeds with his hands, and showed
me the tigress--which had moved about twenty yards--on her side, and
evidently in a dying condition. She was now only a few yards from me, and
I fired at her, and she rolled over and died. As it happened, I do not
think that I ran much risk, but one never can exactly tell how much
vitality a dying tiger has, and in the case previously alluded to I have
no doubt that the tiger must have died immediately after he made his fatal
attack on the party.
It is owing obviously to their great power of concealment that tigers are
so very rarely ever seen by accident, and Mr. Sanderson says that during
some years of wandering in tigerish localities he has only come upon them
accidentally about half a dozen times, and my own experience, and that of
other sportsmen to whom I have spoken, quite confirms this. But I am
persuaded that a native can see a tiger much more readily than a European,
and the former have, I think, much better distinguishing power. For
instance, a European has great difficulty in seeing a green pigeon in a
green tree till the bird moves, while a native seems to have no such
difficulty. My own sight is, or rather was, very good, but I found on one
occasion, when I was stalked by a tiger, that it was most provokingly
defective as compared with that of a native. The incident occurred in this
way. In cloudy weather, during a break in the monsoon, I was beating a
ravine for game, and had sent my second gun-carrier with the beaters. As
the beat was drawing to a close, I heard a sambur deer belling at the head
of a ravine, about a few hundred yards from the termination of the jungle
we were beating. As I thought I might get a shot at it, I went across the
grassland in the direction of the sound, and up to within about ten yards
of the edge of the jungle, the fringe of which at that point projected a
little. I could see nothing, but as the people were coming my way in any
case, I remained where I was. The first person to arrive was a very plucky
Hindoo peasant--a keen sportsman and splendid stalker--and when he almost
touched me he at once pointed and said "There is a tiger." I put my rifle
to my shoulder, and said to him "Where?" "There," he said, and as he put
his hand on my shoulder I could feel it trembling with excitement. Alas, I
could not make out the tiger; but, after all, that was not so very
wonderful, as the day was dark, and the underwood fringe rather thick, but
the tiger actually managed to back gradually away without my being able to
see him. He had evidently been stalking the sambur, which had uttered the
note of alarm I had heard, and no doubt seeing that there was something at
the edge of the jungle, had crawled to the edge, and there lain down
within ten or twelve yards of me.
Tigers seem to recover easily from wounds, and so completely, that no
trace of a bullet having entered the body can be found. On one occasion I
shot a tiger, and when the skin was being removed we perceived a lump on
the inner side of it. This we opened, and found that it contained a bullet
which a brother of mine had fired into the tiger about a year before. We
had no difficulty in identifying the bullet, as no other rifle in the
country had anything like it. The tiger was perfectly well and fat, and
had not a mark on it of having been previously wounded, and yet the bullet
had gone close to mine, which proved fatal to the tiger. In 1891 I killed
a tiger, which had evidently, from his action, been hunted before. He was
in unusually good condition, and yet had a piece of lead in him, which
appeared to be a fragment of an express bullet. But a friend of mine tells
me that he has often found old bullets in tigers. It is a surprising thing
that tigers and panthers seem often to be little influenced by wounds, and
I have heard of one case of a panther, for which a sportsman was sitting
up, which returned to the kill after being wounded and fired at several
times. A friend of mine was once out small game shooting on the Nilgiris
when a tiger seized one of his dogs. He at once put a ball cartridge into
his smooth bore, had a beat, and wounded the tiger. On the following day
he returned to the spot with his rifle, and again beat the jungle, when he
killed the tiger, which had returned and finished the dog, and then found
that the bullet of the day before, which had struck the tiger in the
chest, had travelled nearly the whole length of the body. I recollect once
shooting a spotted deer which had a matchlock ball lying up against its
liver, and pressing on it, but the deer, though it had good horns, was
rather a stunted animal.
I have previously remarked that, in the opinion of Colonel Peyton, even
the stanchest sportsman when on foot in the jungle, is liable to be
startled by the sudden roar of a wounded tiger close at hand, and so much
so as even to draw back for a pace or two, but he says that the effect is
only momentary. In 1891 I again had an opportunity of observing the
effects on myself and others of the roar of a wounded tiger in the jungle,
but on this occasion, though I confess I was very considerably startled,
and generally commoved for a moment, as I had expected to find the tiger
dead, I did not step back a pace, nor did the stanchest of the natives who
were with me, though a certain number climbed right up to the tops of
trees. As it happened, there was, after all, no danger, for the tiger had
been damaged in the back, and I soon dispatched it. The effect of the roar
of a tiger is really very remarkable, and of this the animal itself seems
to be well aware, for the tiger I have just alluded to--evidently an old
hand, from the trouble he had given us and the cunning he had
displayed--remained in the open, or came out into the open as the beaters
approached, then roared at them and afterwards retreated into the
jungle--a narrow ravine in which he seemed determined to remain, though
shots were fired into it, and in which I think he would have remained had
not the beaters charged into it in a body in the most plucky manner. A
friend of mine also met with a similar instance, where a tiger came
out--confronted the beaters and roared at them. The beaters may see the
tiger, and quite close, and yet not be much disturbed, but a roar even a
good way off has on them a disturbing effect, though it is difficult to
see why the nerves should be affected more easily through the medium of
the ears than the eyes. I may here mention that, when the sportsman has a
damaged heart, the roar of a wounded tiger, at least if the shooter is on
foot in the jungle, is apt to produce a slight flutter of that organ,
though that, too, like the effect alluded to by Colonel Peyton, is
momentary. Having had for some years a rather damaged heart, I was
interested in experimenting as regards the effects of tigers on its
action, but could come to no very distinct conclusion. I was once in an
extremely insecure position on a conspicuous cleft of a bare tree, with my
feet not more than seven or eight feet from the ground, when the tiger
galloped into the arena as it were in the most sudden manner, and passed
within fifteen feet of me. I knocked him over with a ball in the back at
the second shot--the first, from the awkward position I was placed in,
having either missed, or done him little harm. The tiger then lay on his
side, with his head turned backwards and resting on his shoulder. He kept
his eye on me, and I kept mine on him, and I did not fire again, as my
second gun native (we had never expected the tiger to be where we found
him, and were on our way home) had seated himself on another tree. In a
low tone he said to me "Load, load!" but the moment I took my eye off the
tiger to do so he began to wriggle into the jungle, and I only got a snap
shot at his hind leg. Now when the tiger roared, which he did as he
approached me, and he lay watching me, I felt no sensation of the heart,
though I felt a distinct flutter when loading and when the tiger was
wriggling away. On the following day, however, I felt my heart to be
rather the worse, but I attributed this to exposure to the sun. On another
occasion, which occurred shortly afterwards, I shot a tigress so close
that I could have touched her with a spear, and she was on rather higher
ground than myself, but on this occasion neither when I fired, nor when
she fell, and turned her head to me and showed me all her teeth, did I
experience any heart effect whatever. I must say, though, that I had my
attention strongly turned to the necessity of not allowing myself to be
excited, in case it should be bad for my heart, and the power of the will
must no doubt have much effect in controlling the action of the heart.
Anyone who has anything the matter with his heart should take digitalis
before going out, and also take a few doses of this tonic with him, as
well as some very strong beef-tea. He should also endeavour to go after
the tiger in the morning or late in the afternoon, and lie in a cool place
in the jungle in the heat of the day, as I am quite sure, from my own
experience, that exposure to much sun heat is bad for the heart. As heart
disease, from the excitement of life, is becoming more common, these hints
may be useful.
Since writing the preceding, I went out after a tiger near my house,
where I was placed on a tree quite out of the reach of a tiger--in fact it
was too high, and showed me the great disadvantage of being more than say
fifteen feet from the ground. The beat was a peculiar one, and I was
posted just inside the jungle. The beaters were rather long at their work,
and I had fallen into a reverie, from which I was aroused by three roars
of a tiger just behind me, and the roars were not charging roars, but of a
character which meant, in tiger language, that people had better look out.
Now the tiger was below me, and I was as absolutely safe as a man at home
in his armchair, and yet I felt my heart throb quickly. The explanation of
this no doubt was that I had forgotten to take my dose of digitalis before
starting. Being in the jungle I was under great disadvantages from having
to shoot through the underwood, and, though I knocked over the tiger, and
there was plenty of blood to prove it, we lost him.
This tiger is known as the lame tiger from being so in the right fore
leg--the result of an old wound probably--and some ten days after my
wounding him a curious coincidence happened. A young married lady, who was
at the time on a visit to my bungalow, had expressed a great wish to see a
tiger, and, when leaving for Bangalore in her bullock coach between nine
and ten o'clock one night, very nearly saw the lame tiger. He was standing
in the road some miles from my house, at a sharp bend where the road
deflects abruptly to cross a Nullah, and waited till the coach got within
ten or fifteen yards of him, whereupon, after delivering three moderate
growls, he limped down off the road, and stood for a moment looking at the
coach and bullocks.
All sportsmen must regret the necessity for tying out live bait for
tigers, but this is really a fully justifiable proceeding, as thereby an
immense amount of pain is saved to animal life in general, and an immense
sum of money to the native population. The destruction of cattle by
tigers is really enormous, and, I believe, far exceeding that reported to
Government, and it is so mainly because the tiger is only allowed to eat a
fraction of what he kills, as the moment that news of a bullock being
killed reaches the village, the low class natives at once proceed to the
spot, drive away the tiger, and carry off the beef. And this is only
prevented when an English sportsman is within reach, in which case the
cattle owners prevent the people from touching the carcase. It is often
very annoying when tying out baits for tigers, to find them destroyed by
panthers, as the panther, of course, from his habit of climbing trees, and
concealing himself in the foliage, and from a kind of general facility
that he seems to have for getting out of the way, is a difficult animal to
find, in fact so much so, that I latterly would never go out after one,
unless it had killed quite close at hand. In 1891 I was once much annoyed
to find that a new kind of bait with an additional attraction had been
quite ruined by a panther. This attraction consisted of a goat picketed in
an open-topped (that was the mistake, it ought to have been closed) wooden
cage which was placed in the branches of a tree, on the edge of the
jungle, and about fifteen feet from the ground, while a bullock was
picketed on the ground in the open land, about twenty yards away. The
theory was that the, to a tiger, attractive aroma of the goat would be
widely diffused, and that he might, too, further attract the tiger by his
cries. News (false as it afterwards turned out to be) was brought in that
a tiger had killed the bullock, and I toiled up on to the mountain some
seven miles away from my bungalow, merely to find that a panther had
killed the bullock and that my goat was hanging dead by the neck outside
the cage just like a carcase in a butcher's shop. The panther had seized
the goat, killed it, and jumped out of the cage with it, and had either
not sense enough to cut the rope with his teeth, or had his suspicions
aroused from finding the animal tied. To show that the suspicions of an
animal can thus be aroused, I may mention the following incident, which is
also especially interesting as showing the great skill of the tiger as a
stalker and the singular power he has of stepping noiselessly on dry
leaves, and his power to do mischief after being apparently shot dead. But
before doing so I may mention rather an interesting circumstance. Besides
the bait killed by the panther, I had two bullocks tied out in the
neighbourhood, and as I did not care much for that part of the country,
ordered them to be released and brought home with us. I was much struck
with the earnest and business-like air with which these poor animals,
which had spent some miserable nights in the jungle, expecting every
moment to be killed by a tiger, trotted along, on a line often parallel
with the party, and it somewhat reminded me of a picture I had seen in an
illustrated paper, of the hunted deer amicably trotting home with the
hounds and huntsmen. The fact was that they were determined to get home in
good time, for fear, I suppose, of being shut out of the cattle shed, and
though, just as they neared the shed, the remainder of the herd, which had
been out grazing in the neighbourhood, appeared within twenty yards, the
liberated baits got first into the shed. And now for my story showing how
easily the suspicions of the tiger are excited.
A near neighbour of mine--at least he lived ten miles off---was much
annoyed by tigers which, from the continuous nature of his large block of
evergreen forest land, he could only get at by sitting over a bait. On one
occasion he had tied out a bullock, in a piece of land of a few acres
which he had cleared in the middle of the forest, and concealed himself on
a tree. It was during the day, and the ground was covered with dried
leaves which are so brittle in the hot weather that even the scratching,
or walking of a bird can be heard some way off. Presently a large
tiger--my friend knew that he was about--made his appearance and commenced
a stalk so elaborate and careful that my friend declared it would have
been worth 1,000 rupees to a young sportsman to have witnessed it. He put
every paw down so carefully, gradually crushing the leaves under it, that
my friend, though quite close to the tiger, could not hear a sound.
Between the tiger and the bullock was the butt, about four feet high, of a
felled tree, with long projecting surface roots, and this saved the tiger
much trouble, for he got on to one of the roots, and carefully balanced
himself on it, and so without noise was able to walk quickly along till he
came to the butt which he seemed to wind round like a snake, and he then
got on to a corresponding root on the other side, and walked along that.
In short, he approached so gradually and noiselessly, and his colour
against the brown dry leaves was so invisible, that he got quite close to
the bullock before it perceived him. The moment it did so it charged, but
the tiger, avoiding the horns, swung round the back of the bullock, and
then sat up and put both its paws on its neck evidently to drag it down,
but it then perceived that the animal was tied, and at once turned and
sprang into the forest with such rapidity that my friend did not fire. He
however sat patiently on, and after a considerable time the tiger
reappeared, went through the whole stalking performance as carefully and
exactly as before, and was seen and charged by the bullock as before. But
this time the tiger was in earnest and seized the bullock. There was a
struggle, the rope broke, and the bullock dropped dead, and then the tiger
stood for a few seconds, a magnificent figure in the bright sunlight,
looking all round as it were for signs of danger. Whether the tiger saw or
smelt my friend is uncertain, but it suddenly lay down behind the bullock,
interposing the carcase between itself and my friend, and resting its
head on the body. As it is always more or less precarious to fire at the
head of an animal where it may suddenly move my friend waited to get a
body shot, but as the tiger had evidently no intention of moving he fired
at the head and the tiger was apparently shot dead on the spot. But my
friend, who was an experienced sportsman, waited a little, and in the end
thought it safe to fire another shot before going up to the tiger. He did
so, when the tiger sprang up and went off into the forest at full speed,
and fell and died at some little distance away. The first bullet had
struck the tiger below the eye, but had been deflected, and was found
lodged in the jaw. My friend thinks that it would have proved fatal to the
tiger, but that is doubtful, as tigers make such wonderful recoveries from
wounds.
In tying out baits it is very important to use a chain instead of a rope,
as the tiger will commonly cut the latter and carry off the carcase, and
it is sometimes desirable, or even necessary in some cases, to sit over
the carcase and await the return of the tiger. The latter is always the
case where there are great continuous forests, where tigers cannot be
isolated, or successfully pursued, unless one has an army of men and many
guns. This form of sport, which Mr. Sanderson speaks highly of, I can
imagine may be very interesting, but it is also very tiresome and
tantalizing. A great many years ago I remember trying it for two nights,
but without any success, and never again tried it till some years ago,
when I made an attempt in one of the forests at the foot of one of the
passes leading down to Mangalore. My people had no experience in the
matter either, still we might have been successful had the carcase been
chained. I took down a small herd of cattle from my plantations, and
ordered some baits to be tied one evening, and early the following morning
went round to look at them. In the first case we found that the rope had
been cut and the bullock carried off and deposited in a depression in the
ground about fifty yards away. The carcase was untouched. In the next case
we found that the rope, which was a very strong jungle creeper as thick as
a large-sized rope, had not been cut, but that the animal had been killed,
and merely a few steaks as it were eaten from the rump. In the third case
we found that the bullock, which had evidently been the first one seized,
was about half eaten. In the fourth case the bullock, which was an old
one, had not been touched. I think my people made a great mistake in tying
out so many cattle so close together--they were not one hundred yards
apart--still this certainly made matters more sure from one point of view,
as a tiger crossing the country might have missed one bait, whereas he
could hardly have missed four, but his having killed three baits made our
proceedings a little mixed. I first ordered the surviving bullock to be
taken home, and two of the carcases to be dragged away to a considerable
distance, and resolved to sit over kill number two, as it was the best
animal, and in the most convenient position, but unfortunately I ordered
two of my people to take a seat on a tree near the place where number one
had been killed and carried off, and the tiger, which went there first,
looked up and saw them and growled. His suspicions of course were aroused,
and the result was that he did not come at all to the kill I was sitting
over--at least while I was there. After it was too dark to see to shoot I
went home, and returned the following morning, when I found that the tiger
had returned, cut the rope, and carried off the bullock to a distance of
about two hundred yards, and eaten a good deal of it. I organized a small
silent beat of a section of the forest, but nothing came of it. My head
man then resolved to prepare a watching place in a tree near the carcase,
and this time I resolved to follow Mr. Sanderson's advice, and begin to
watch quite early in the afternoon. My man finished his arrangements by
about midday, and, after breakfasting at home, I returned with him to the
spot at about three o'clock. Horror of horrors, the carcase was gone
again. My head shikari--the Rama Gouda, whom I have previously noticed as
being such a cool and daring fellow--was enraged beyond measure. He at
once, without saying a word, cut a creeper from the nearest tree, and
without even a gun in his hand set off on the trail, but not, I observed,
before gun-bearer number two, also a daring fellow, had looked at him with
an inquiring eye, as much as to say, "are you not a trifle rash?" I
followed Rama Gouda, though I was not quite sure of the prudence of our
proceedings, and presently we perceived by the chattering of a squirrel
that the tiger was moving along close to us. Then we came to the carcase,
of which there was now only about half left, and from the tracks about it,
and the quantity of flesh eaten, Rama Gouda was satisfied that the tiger
must have watched him making his preparations and then carried off the
carcase the moment he had left. Rama Gouda now lashed the creeper to the
bullock's horns, and, with the aid of the second man, proceeded to drag it
back to the watching place he had prepared, and which was about one
hundred yards away. By this time, the hinder part of the bullock had been
eaten and only the fore part was intact and the carcase smelt horribly.
There was something so ludicrous in the whole thing that I could not, and
much to Rama Gouda's surprise, help laughing. The unfortunate animal had
first been driven thirty miles from his home into these remote forests,
then killed, then his remains were carried off as we have seen, and then
again carried off, and now what was left was being dragged back again to
the watching place. Rama Gouda soon arranged matters to his satisfaction
by restoring the remains to their original position, but certainly not to
mine, for there presently arose a most asphyxiating stench, which seemed
to fill the entire air, and reminded one of what soldiers must often have
experienced in our eastern campaigns. We waited till it was too dark to
see to shoot and then went home, and early next morning I had to start for
the coast, and thus ignominiously ended the only attempt of the kind I
ever made. The tiger was evidently an old hand and was playing a regular
game of hide and seek with us. The great error made was the neglect of Mr.
Sanderson's advice as to chaining the bait in the first instance. Some
tigers always carry off the carcase each time they visit it, and a friend
of mine told me that when he was once sitting over a carcase, the tiger
made a sudden rush, picked up the carcase in the course of it, and made
off so suddenly that he had no time to fire.
I can easily understand that, as Mr. Sanderson says, there is a
considerable charm and interest connected with this method (and in some
cases it is the only method) of pursuing tigers, but I can see that it
requires much experience, caution, and patience, and I would particularly
advise those interested in this matter to consult Mr. Sanderson's valuable
work.
I have often found in conversation that people are surprised to find that
tigers eat tigers when a suitable opportunity for doing so presents
itself, but considering that man still, in some parts of the world, eats
his fellow man, it seems to me extremely natural that a tiger should eat a
tiger. I have, however, only met with one instance which occurred in my
neighbourhood, and in this case I am strongly inclined to think that the
eaten tiger was first of all killed. The incident occurred in this way.
Shortly before my arrival in India one winter, my manager wounded a tiger,
but I do not think very severely, as the tiger not only travelled at least
two miles, but ascended a mountain up to a considerable elevation. Along
one side of the mountain is a rather long strip of forest, which is a
favourite place for tigers either to pass through or lie up in, as it is
quite out of any village-to-village route, and had the tiger been hard hit
he would certainly have remained there. But not only did he not do so, but
skirting the jungle, or passing through it, he climbed up a steep ascent,
evidently with the view of going into the next valley, and near the top of
the ascent his living history ends. Knowing from the direction taken by
the wounded tiger that he would probably be in the jungle on the mountain
side, my manager had it beaten on the day following, when a tiger came out
which he took to be the wounded tiger, and which he killed. It then turned
out that it was not the wounded tiger, but a fresh tiger with the wounded
tiger, or nearly all the meat of it, inside him, and all that was
recovered was the head and the skin of the chest, which I saw after my
arrival, and which was sent in to Government for the reward, and by the
size of the head it must have been a fine tiger. When I visited the jungle
in 1891, I carefully cross-examined the natives in the matter, and they
said that they could not say whether the tiger had died from wounds or
whether he had been killed by the tiger that had carried off and eaten the
body, but they were positive that it was a tiger that had eaten the body,
from the tracks, for the body had been taken down to water, on the margin
of which no other tracks but those of a tiger were visible, and these were
clearly defined. They could also be distinctly traced from the place in
the open grassland whence the body was carried. Taking all the
circumstances into consideration--the distance travelled, the steepness of
the ground, and the fact that the tiger passed a favourable jungle for
lying in, I am strongly of opinion, in fact, I consider it almost certain,
that the wounded tiger must have been dispatched by the other tiger, which
was hungry and could not resist the smell of the blood. There is nothing
remarkable in a tiger eating a tiger found dead, and I have read and heard
of instances of this, and also of tigers fighting, and the vanquished
tiger being eaten.
It is a common idea that tigers cannot climb trees, but this has arisen
from the fact that they have seldom occasion to do so. Mr. Sanderson
mentions the case of a tigress having been seen to climb a tree in a wood
on the Nilgiri Hills, and though he has never seen a tiger in a tree
himself, deprecates the idea of there being anything impossible in the
matter, and if we come to consider that the large forest panther, which
commonly ascends trees, is really often nearly as heavy as a small-sized
tigress, there is nothing at all improbable in the tiger doing so. I
myself have never seen a tiger in a tree, but one of my managers did, who
once went out after a tiger which he had wounded. He then ran on to cut
him off, and tried to get up into a tree, but not succeeding in the
attempt, went and took a seat some way off on the hillside. The tiger
presently emerged from the jungle, went to the tree and began roaring and
scraping at the ground, and he must have either smelt traces of the
manager or seen him trying to get up into it, and concluded he was there.
However, he deliberately went up the tree paw over paw, and got into a
cleft of it and looked about in the tree, and then came down backwards,
and was shot in the act of descending. I sent and obtained measurements of
this tree, the stem of which was 16-1/2 feet up to the first branch. The
tiger climbed up so far, and looked around in the tree. Another case was
told me by Rama Gouda, to whom I have previously alluded, of a wounded
tiger going up a tree to get at a beater, whom he nearly reached. In the
case just mentioned, the tiger rose on its hind legs and deliberately went
up paw over paw, but in the second, started with a spring up the stem of
the tree, and then ascended in the same way as the first tiger did.
There is a common idea that jackals attach themselves to tigers, and are
useful in warning them of danger, and I have been informed by an
experienced sportsman that they always howl when they find a bait tied out
for a tiger, and, it is supposed, with the view of informing any tiger
within hearing that there is a bullock all ready for him. I have never
heard but one confirmatory instance of the former, which was told me by a
planter on the Nilgiri Hills, who was opening some new land in quarters
occasionally visited by tigers. One evening, after the day's work was
over, he went out accompanied by a kangaroo dog, and took a seat on the
hillside to enjoy the view. Immediately below him ran a jungly ravine, and
behind him the hill rose sharply. He had no gun with him, not expecting
any game so close to his new abode, and now, to his dismay, a large tiger
emerged from the shola at a point between him and his bungalow. As the
grass was long at that season, the tiger did not perceive my friend (and,
as I have previously shown, tigers, and I believe all animals, do not
readily perceive any non-conspicuous object which is not in motion), who,
as may be supposed, sat as close and still as possible, and beckoning to
the dog, held him fast by the collar. The tiger lay down in the grass, and
was presently followed by another tiger, which lay down in front of the
first and rolled over on its back. This was pretty well for a beginning,
but presently, one after the other, emerged three smaller tigers, which
also took their seats in the grass. Here then was a nice family to have
between one and one's dinner. The sun presently set, and the prospect of
darkness was not encouraging. My friend naturally waited for the tigers to
go, and no doubt devoutly hoped that they would not come his way, but time
seemed to them to be of no importance, and they showed not the slightest
disposition to move. Presently there came on to the ridge of the hill
above a jackal, which looked down upon the party and then set up a most
unearthly howl. The three smaller tigers, evidently young and
inexperienced animals, took no notice of the protestations of the jackal,
but the two larger tigers at once got up and took a long steady look at
him, and the jackal moved restlessly about and seemed to redouble his
efforts to attract the attention of the tigers. The larger tigers now
seemed satisfied that some danger was at hand, and to the immense relief
of my friend, walked down into the jungle, followed by the three smaller
tigers. After waiting a little my friend got up and proceeded homewards,
and, he said, "I am not ashamed to own that, after passing the place where
the tigers had disappeared from view, I fairly ran for the house." The
most interesting experiences one hears of tigers and other wild animals
are, as may be supposed, not from sportsmen engaged on shooting
expeditions, and who have killed much game, but from pioneer planters and
others whose business lies in tigerish localities, and that is why Mr.
Sanderson's book is so particularly interesting. My friend told me when I
last met him that he had only killed two tigers, but that he had had
occasionally some unexpected interviews with them. One of these was
interesting as showing that a tiger does not like the rearing of a horse.
My friend was riding across the country one morning when he came suddenly,
at the edge of a shola, on a tiger, which at once crouched as if to
spring. The horse, an Australian, wished to turn, but my friend, being
afraid that the tiger might then spring on him, turned his horse's head
towards the tiger and touched him with the spur. This caused the horse to
rear, and the moment he did so the tiger turned tail and ran off. We have
seen that man does not relish the roar of a tiger, and it may be
interesting to record one instance where a single tiger was commoved and
put to flight by the yell of a single man. He was a planter on the
Nilgiris, and the brother of a friend of mine, and was in the habit of
going out at the end of his day's work with a book and a gun, and seating
himself on the hillside to look out for sambur deer. On one occasion he
was thus sitting in the long grass when he heard something coming through
it. This turned out to be a large tiger which came into view suddenly, and
quite close, as may be supposed from the fact that the planter was sitting
in long grass. The tiger at once crouched, and the planter was afraid to
raise his gun, as it was probable that the animal might spring at him
before he was ready to fire. Tiger and man thus looked at each other in
silence. Mr. B. had heard of the effect of the human eye, and he threw
into his the fiercest glare he could, but found that the tiger returned
his glance quite unmoved. Then he thought he would try the effect of the
human voice, and gathering himself together uttered the most awe-inspiring
yell he could command. The tiger at once rose to his legs and turned his
body half round. This was encouraging, and he emitted another yell, when
the tiger went off.
There can be no doubt that tigers, like men, are often very undecided how
to act, and it would be interesting if we could penetrate their state of
mind. Shall I attack, or shall I do nothing? and in the end, after long
deliberation, the tiger will determine on doing nothing, and walk off. Of
his state of mind the following is an instance. On one occasion I left my
pony on the side of a hill just outside the forest, and went for a stalk
over the mountain above. I could see nothing, and thought it would be well
to take a seat and wait in case any game might turn up. I had not been
seated more than a few minutes when one of my people, pointing downward,
said, "There is a tiger," and we could see him at the foot of the hill
about quarter of a mile away, walking steadily across a piece of open
land to the forest beyond. Just as he disappeared my horse-keeper came up
alone, and evidently in a most agitated state, and no wonder, for we had
no sooner got out of his sight when, a tiger appeared from the jungle and
lay down on the ground just above the pony and crouched. The horse-keeper
had another man with him, but he not unnaturally said that he was afraid
to come and tell us, as he thought that there was safety in numbers, and
that the tiger might attack the pony if it was left with only one man. The
tiger must have thus remained in a state of low doubt for at least half an
hour. Finally he got up and left them, and, from the direction he took,
was evidently the identical tiger which we had seen from the hill top.
Tigers, like wolves and other animals, form plans, communicate them to
their companions, and conjointly carry them out. A friend of mine was once
the subject of an excellent instance of this. He was out stalking one day,
and with his glass was scanning the country carefully, when he made out a
long way off, in a piece of open grassland which was surrounded by forest,
three tigers looking in his direction. They evidently saw that there was
something on the hillside, but the distance was, for them, too great to
make out what. After steadily looking at him some time the tigers
evidently formed their plan of operations, and plunged into the forest
towards him. The tigers had taken my friend and his man for game of some
kind, and had determined on a united stalk and drive, and, when they
appeared, two remained at the edge of the jungle, while the third made a
circuit evidently with the view of coming upon the supposed game from
above. But presently they discovered their mistake and went off.
These forest tigers are rarely dangerous to man unless attacked, and in
my part of the country they never are so. However, there is no rule
without an exception, and when making this assertion to some natives in my
neighbourhood many years ago, one of them said, "I am not so sure about
that. A tiger ate an aunt of mine not far from here some years ago." But
that is the only instance I ever heard of in my neighbourhood, and even by
tradition there were no instances of deaths from tigers, and it is also
remarkable how in some cases tigers, when there is plenty of game, live
for years near cattle without touching them. I was particularly struck
with this in the case of a family who lived quite isolated at the crests
of the Ghauts, and the head of it told me that, though tigers were often
about they never touched his cattle. There is an amusing story told in "My
Indian Journal"[20] (a charming book which everyone should read who is
interested in India) of a native who was ready enough it appears to track
down tigers to be shot by others, but who by no means wished that any of
his family should interfere. On one occasion Colonel Campbell found him
belabouring his son with a stout bamboo, and on inquiry learned that the
said son had killed a tiger. The father said it was all very well for
people who lived in the open country, but with him the case was quite
different, as he lived on sociable terms with the tigers in the jungle,
had never injured them nor they him, and while there was peace between
them he could go amongst them without fear, but now that his rascally son
had picked a quarrel with them, there was no knowing where the feud might
end.
I have mentioned a case of tigers not interfering with cattle when there
was plenty of game, but I should add that this was many years ago, when
the natives had not so many guns as they have now. The rice-fields have
been abandoned and the house of course deserted, and of recent years the
tigers have changed their ways, for, ten years ago, I killed a tigress
close to the site of the abandoned house, in the neighbourhood of which it
had been killing cattle.
I have said that forest tigers are rarely dangerous to man, and by that I
mean the tigers inhabiting the long range of forests stretching along the
south-western side of India at varying distances from the sea, but in the
interior of Mysore very dangerous man-eaters have existed, and I have been
shown places which people made up parties to cross. One man-eater, at
least--for it was assumed that the deaths were the work of one
animal--killed, I am informed on good authority, about 500 people. Two
tigers were killed at one time, and after that the slaughter of human
beings ceased, though it was never ascertained which was the culprit.
There is no man-eater at present in Mysore. Mr. Sanderson says that bold
man-eaters have been known to enter a village and carry off a victim from
the first open hut. The boldest attempt I ever knew of was mentioned to me
by my Nilgiri planter friend, and it occurred in this way. In the middle
of the night there were loud cries of "Tiger!" from a hut near his house
which was occupied by some of his people. He always kept a loaded gun near
him at night, and at once rushed out and fired, when two men came up to
the bungalow and declared that a tiger had begun to claw the thatch off
the roof of the hut in order to get at them. This was alarming to the
planter, as, if proved, many of his people might have left the place, and
he told the men to sleep in his veranda, and that he would see in the
morning if their story was true. He then went to bed and rose very early
the following morning, before anyone was about, and found that the story
was quite true, and saw the tracks of the tiger. These he carefully
obliterated, and then went back to bed. Then when he rose at his usual
time he roused the men and asked to be shown the track of the tiger. This
of course they could not do, and he laughed off the whole story, and
treated it as a fanciful illusion. I find many stories in sporting books
of the great courage and determination often shown by natives in
connection with tigers, but my Nilgiri planter friend told me one which
was really astonishing. A tiger one day had carried off a Toda cattle
herd, and his friend or relative was determined to recover the body, and
was about to proceed single-handed and unarmed into the jungle with this
view. My friend saw that he could not prevent him, and as he did not like
to let him to go in alone, went with him. They went in accordingly, and
presently heard the tiger crunching the bones of his unfortunate victim,
but when the tiger heard them approaching he retired, and the Toda
recovered what was left of the body. There can be no doubt, however, that
the death of one of a party does exercise a chilling effect on the zeal of
the natives, or at least on a considerable proportion of them, but after
all this is not surprising, as I have found a similar coldness coming over
my own proceedings when a tiger has retorted with effect on his pursuers.
On the occasion I am now alluding to an unfortunate report had spread that
a tiger I had wounded had left the jungle in which we found him, and
whither he had retreated. I had wounded the tiger in the evening, and we
went to look him up next morning, and the beaters, influenced no doubt by
the report in question, went into the jungle in a body in a careless
manner, and without sending men up trees to keep a look out ahead.
The tiger waited till the whole party was within springing distance, and
then with a tremendous roar which I clearly heard at my post some way off,
charged, and buried his deadly fangs in the back of an unfortunate Hindoo
peasant who was leading the way. The poor fellow was carried out of the
jungle in an evidently dying state, and a caste dispute arose over him,
the particulars of which I have given in my chapter on caste. After doing
what we could for him we placed him on a rough litter and he was carried
to the rear. I confess that after such an exhibition of temper on the part
of the tiger and the nature of the jungle I, being Europeanly speaking
single-handed, was not so very comfortable at the idea of approaching him,
but luckily a toddyman who had run up a tree (these men are wonderful
climbers) when the tiger charged, and was afraid for some time to come
down, now emerged from the jungle, and reported that he could see the
tiger from the tree he had climbed into. This of course much simplified
matters, and I at once proceeded into the jungle, but only about ten
people, mostly my own followers, cared to accompany me. As it happened, we
after all ran no risk whatever, as the tiger was dead, though he was lying
with his head on his paws in such a life-like position that we fired a
shot into him to make sure. When we were skinning him the poor man
expired. In the same jungle, I think about a year afterwards, an English
visitor at my house wounded a tiger, which went into one of those reedy
and cactus-grown bottoms which make tiger shooting on foot so dangerous. I
then declared that none of my people should go into this, and that they
might return the next day and see if the tiger was dead (by no means an
absolutely safe proceeding even then as we have seen). Much to my
amusement a lean toddy drawer of mine, an excellent shikari, went a few
yards into the swampy ground, got on to a small boulder of rock, squatted
down, took out his betel bag, threw some betel into his mouth preparatory
to chewing, and then held out his long skinny arm and forefinger and said,
"Look! A tiger made a meal of a man close to this last year. Let everyone
therefore be careful and get up into trees, and mind what they are
about." The next day the tiger was found dead quite close to the rock he
had been squatting on. A most remarkable instance of courage on the part
of a native occurred when a brother planter of mine was out tiger shooting
on the Ghauts to the north of my abode. A tiger flew at a Hindoo
peasant--a first-rate plucky sportsman, and as the tiger charged, the man
struck at it with his hacking knife (a formidable weapon in the hands of a
man who knows how to use it, and used to cut underwood, and thick boughs
of trees), with the result that the tiger's skull was split open and the
animal killed on the spot. The native was thrown backwards with great
force, and his head came in contact with a stone. He got up, and by this
time was surrounded by the people, when, holding out his hand, he said,
"Look here," and then paused. Everyone expected some remark about the
tiger, but, amidst general laughter--for the natives have a keen sense of
humour--he continued, "There will be a bump on my head to-morrow as big as
a cocoanut." And now, as we have heard so much of the courage of man, it
is time that the dogs should have their turn, and I will conclude these
reminiscences with an account of how a dog saved the life of the brother
planter to whom I have just alluded. I was so much interested in the story
that I wrote down the particulars in my diary at the time and read them
over to my informant to make sure they were right. I give the account
verbatim as I took it down at the time.
Mr. A. told me that he once wounded a tiger which afterwards sprang on
him, knocked him down, and seized him by the hand and arm. With Mr. A. was
a large dog, half mastiff and half polygar (a savage and rare native
breed), which at once attacked the tiger, and diverted its attention from
Mr. A. After driving off the dog the tiger again returned to Mr. A. and
commenced to worry him, but was again attacked by the dog. The dog was
thus driven off about three or four times by the tiger. The tiger was all
this time losing strength from his wounds, and the last time he returned
to Mr. A., died on him. The dog was uninjured. Now comes the most curious
and interesting part of the story.
The dog, which was not affectionate generally, and indifferent to being
noticed, belonged to Mr. A.'s brother, and had previously taken no
interest in anyone but his master, but after this event, he refused to go
home with his master, and stuck closely to the wounded man, and when some
carbolic was applied by Mr. A.'s brother which caused pain to the wound,
the dog began to growl and showed signs of displeasure. The dog would not
allow anyone to come near Mr. A. except his own special servant, and lay
under the bed with his nose sticking out, and keeping close guard. When
Mr. A. was carried to the doctor some thirty-five miles away the dog went
too, and on the doctor applying carbolic, and setting the bones, which
caused pain, the dog at once seized the doctor by the leg. (Evidently
looking on him as tiger No. 2, I suppose.) In about three months Mr. A.
was quite cured, and after that the dog lost all interest in him, and
returned to his master; and if he met Mr. A. by chance, merely
acknowledged him by the faintest wag of his tail. A year afterwards this
dog, happening to meet the doctor, whom he had not met since, at once flew
at him and seized him by the trousers.
One great danger attending the bite of a tiger is that of blood-poisoning
from the frequently foul state of the animal's jaws, and it is, of course,
of great consequence to cleanse wounds as soon as possible and apply
carbolic. An engineer in the northern part of Mysore a good many years ago
was bitten on the thigh by a tiger, and so little hurt that he walked home
and went on with his business as usual, but a few days after he was
suddenly taken ill and very soon died. Of course there may happen to be no
foul matter about the tiger's mouth, and a Hindoo peasant wounded when I
was out with no less than thirteen wounds in the arms--several of them
double wounds as the man had thrust his locked arms into the tiger's mouth
to keep him off--completely recovered. He goes by the nickname of Tiger
Linga Gouda, and I always make a point of sending for him when I visit
Mysore. On one occasion I was showing the marks of the wounds to a lady,
and said that there were thirteen wounds. "Thirteen," echoed Linga Gouda,
"There were fifteen, and you have forgotten those two on the head, and I
slept on your bed too," he added with an air of great satisfaction--in
fact he seemed to attach more importance to that than to anything
connected with the transaction. I had given him up my bed because it was a
broad one, and so most convenient for resting his lacerated arms. The
natives were certain that he would die, and I felt a great triumph in
bringing him round. The great thing with wounds of that kind is of course
to cleanse them well, and apply carbolic if you have it (I had none on
this occasion) and afterwards cover the wounds with damp lint, which
should be kept constantly moist by frequent applications of water. This
was done in the case I have alluded to. The arms, of course, swelled
greatly, and the heat arising from them was very great, hence the need for
the constant application of water. The flow of blood from the arms was
checked by a tourniquet.
I never but once heard of a mad tiger. This animal was made over in an
inoculated condition by a friend of mine to the Garden in Bangalore. He
had caught it when out tiger shooting, and, when on the way to Bangalore,
he had chained it outside his tent where it was attacked and bitten by
what turned out to be a mad Pariah dog.
Before concluding this chapter I must say a few words, which perhaps
ought to have been said at an earlier period, as regards one of the most
important points of tiger shooting--i.e., that of taking up such a
position as will enable you to fire to right or left without moving your
body, or rather I should say without moving it more than in a most
infinitesimal degree, for, as I have previously shown, it is movement of
any kind which alone readily attracts the attention of an animal. It is
evident that, if you sit facing the point from which the tiger is
expected, though you can readily fire at him without moving if he passes
to your left (and, as has been shown, you should not fire till he is just
passing you) you cannot do so if he passes to your right without turning
your whole body half round in that direction--a movement which might catch
the eye of the tiger. To surmount this difficulty Sir Samuel Baker has
invented a small stool with a revolving top, which is no doubt air
excellent thing if there is time to erect a suitable platform on which to
support the stool, but it often happens that positions have to be taken up
in a hurry, and that you have to sit on the fork of a branch, or on the
ground behind a bush or rock, where the tiger may pass on either side. In
such cases the shooter should sit facing nearly full face to the right, as
he can, with hardly any perceptible movement of his body fire readily to
his left, and he should instruct his man with the second gun to point with
his finger in order to indicate the side on which the tiger is
approaching.
In all the books I have read about tigers I have never met with an
allusion to tigers purring like cats from satisfaction, but a brother
planter informs me that he heard a wounded tiger, that had killed one of
the natives who was following him up, purr for several minutes, as he
described it, "like a thousand cats." The evening was closing in when the
accident occurred and as the jungle was thick nothing could be done. On
the following morning the man and the tiger were found lying dead
together.
Of all sports tiger shooting affords the most lasting satisfaction, and it
is especially interesting when one lives in tigerish localities where one
has more leisure and opportunity for going into all the details of this
delightful sport, and where a knowledge of the people and their language
makes the sport so much more agreeable, and one's acquaintance with the
ground enables one to take an active and intelligent part in regulating
the plan of operations when a tiger has killed. Then in the case of an
animal so destructive it is seldom possible to feel any commiseration,
though I have done so on certainly one, or perhaps two occasions. Against
many sports something may be said, but that is impossible as regards tiger
shooting. The tying out of live baits may be objected to, but after all
the tooth of the tiger is to be preferred to the knife of the butcher.
FOOTNOTES:
[15] G. P. Sanderson's "Thirteen Years among the Wild Beasts of India,"
1878.
[16] "Reminiscences of Life in Mysore, South Africa and Burmah." By
Major-General R. S. Dobbs. London, Hatchards, Piccadilly, 1882.
[17] _Vide_ Appendix C.
[18] "Oriental Field Sports." By Captain Thomas Williamson, London, 1807.
[19] "Tiger Shooting in India; Experiences 1850 to 1854," by William Rice,
1857.
[20] "My Indian Journal." By Colonel Walter Campbell. Edinburgh, Edmonston
and Douglas, 1864.
CHAPTER V.
BEARS--PANTHERS--WILD BOARS--JUNGLE DOGS--SNAKES--JUNGLE PETS.
The Indian black bear (_ursus labiatus_), we are informed by Jerdon, is
found throughout India and Ceylon, from Cape Comorin to the Ganges,
chiefly in the hilly and jungly districts. The bear, unlike the tiger,
which has sometimes five cubs, appears never to have more than two cubs,
and I have not been able to hear or read of their ever having more. We
have no means of knowing how often they breed, but I imagine that they
must seldom do so, and that that is why they are so soon almost
exterminated. As I never kept a game diary on my estate (which I now much
regret), I have no idea how many have been killed from it, but I am sure
we have killed a smaller number of bears than of tigers, and yet the bear
is now rarely seen or heard of in my neighbourhood, while we hear as much
of tigers as ever, and indeed quite recently a great deal more, for last
year they were apparently more numerous than they have ever been in the
tiger range of my district; and I say apparently, because, from the
destruction of game, the tigers have naturally been compelled to live more
upon cattle. It is alleged by the natives that the tigers kill and eat the
bears. Mr. Sanderson notices this in his work, and gives one reported
instance of it, but I have never known of one in my part of the country. A
friend of mine, formerly in the employ of the Mysore State, told me that
he knew of two cases in the North-Eastern Division, of tigers killing
bears, but in neither case did they eat them. In the first case the bear
and tiger had met at a watering-place, and in the second in the jungle.
Mr. Ball, in his "Jungle Life in India,"[21] tells us that he once came
across the remains of a bear which the natives said had been killed by a
tiger, and that a native shikari had sat over the carcase with the hope of
getting a shot at the tiger. We have no returns as regards bears in
Mysore, but in the adjacent Bombay districts--Kanara and Belgaum--Colonel
Peyton tells us, in the "Kanara Gazetteer," they are fast becoming rare,
except near the Sahyadris, and even there are no longer numerous. In
Belgaum, between 1840 and 1880, he tells us that no fewer than 223 bears
were killed. The steady decline of the numbers of the bears is shown by
the fact that 137 were killed between 1840 and 1850, 51 between 1850 and
1860, 32 between 1860 and 1870, and 3 between 1870 and 1880. In Kanara 51
bears were killed between 1856 and 1882, so we have a total then of 274
bears for these two districts alone. As regards big game, the first comers
obviously have the best of it.
Colonel Peyton tells us that the bear is, of all animals, most dreaded by
the natives. There can be no doubt, he says, that an untouched bear will
often charge, while a tiger will rarely do so, and there are numerous
instances of people having been mauled and sometimes killed by them. I
imagine, though--in fact, I am sure--that this must often occur from the
bear constantly keeping his head down, evidently smelling and looking for
things in or on the ground. All other game animals have some motive for
looking ahead and around--deer and bison for their enemies, and tigers for
their prey. But the bear lives on insects and fruits, and flowers and
honey, and as he is not apprehensive of being attacked by any animal, has
no motive for keeping a lookout, and so does not do so. He may thus, and
no doubt often does, run into a man, under the mistaken idea that the man
is running into or attacking him, and then the bear, naturally, does the
best he can. I can give a remarkable confirmation of this view.
One day, in a break in the monsoon, when the game lies much out of the
forest, I was out in the mountains with my manager for a general stalk,
when we saw, some way ahead of us, a bear walking along. We quickly formed
a plan of operation, and it was arranged that I should make a circuit and
get between the bear and a jungly ravine he appeared to be making for, and
that my manager should follow on the track of the bear, which would thus
be pretty certain to be overhauled. The bear was pottering along as bears
do, and I had no difficulty in getting between him and the jungle he was
approaching, and the moment I did so I advanced a little towards him. When
the bear got within shooting distance--about fifty yards--I stooped down
and moved a little on one side so as to get off his direct line, with the
view of getting a side shot, but just as I did so he accidentally altered
his route, thus bringing himself again head on to me. Then I manoeuvred
again to get out of his line, but the bear also altered his line, and as
by this time he was getting rather too close--i.e., about ten yards
off--I stood up and took a steady shot at his head and dropped him dead.
Now, strange to say, I do not believe that the bear ever saw me at all,
and he could not wind me, as the south-westerly wind was blowing strongly
from him to me, and yet, as the grass at that season was by no means long,
he had no more difficulty in seeing me than I had in seeing him, and he
probably would have walked right up to me. This instance is, I think,
interesting, and goes far to explain the numerous accidents in connection
with bears. Still there can be no doubt that, as Colonel Peyton says, an
unwounded and untouched bear will deliberately attack people when there is
no occasion for his doing so, and that too, under circumstances where no
other animal would make an attack, and of this the following little
incident will serve as an illustration.
On one occasion a bear was reported on a jungly hill about a mile from my
bungalow, and as I was young and inexperienced then, I said that I would
lie on the ground till I heard the beaters, and then stand behind a tree.
I was alone, and had only a single barrelled rifle, which I laid on the
ground beside me. As the cover was rather a large one, I had no reason to
expect anything till I could at least hear the beaters in the distance,
and I lay leaning on my elbow and thinking of I cannot now remember what,
when on chancing to look up I saw a large bear standing at the edge of the
jungle about twenty yards away. The moment I moved he charged, and I at
once seized my rifle, sprang up and charged the bear at an angle (there
was no time to fire), and made for the jungle from which he had emerged. I
just missed his nose, and he followed me for a few paces as I ran towards
the jungle from which he had come, which I did knowing that he would not
be inclined to go in that direction. Then, having thus cleared me out of
the way, he turned, and resumed his original route, and as he was
disappearing into the next jungle I fired at him, but the charge must have
had a discomposing effect on my shooting, for I missed the bear
altogether. Now, as the beaters were far away and not within hearing,
there was no occasion for the bear to have attacked me, and there was
ample room for him to have altered his line. In fact, unless closely
pressed by beaters, no other unwounded animal would have so acted. It will
be observed that the bear, after having pursued me for a few yards, turned
and went on his way, but had I not been nimble--in other words, had I been
completely invested by the bear and thrown down--he might, as the natives
would phrase it, have made my wife a widow. It is commonly supposed that,
when making an attack, the bear stands on its hind legs, and thus gives
the sportsman a good chance of killing him with a shot in the chest, but
this is not my experience, and, though instances of the kind may have
occurred, I should not advise the sportsman to count on any such delay in
the proceedings of an attacking bear.
The preceding illustration, I may point out, affords a useful lesson. If
so suddenly attacked by a wild animal that you have no time to fire,
always rush towards it, and to one side, so that you may, as it were,
dodge past it. This will enable you to gain ground on it, and room to turn
round and fire.
I may observe that Mr. Ball, in his "Jungle Life in India," gives several
instances of natives being wantonly attacked by bears, and Colonel
Campbell[22] gives one remarkable instance of two bears attacking a party
of his people, who were on the march through the jungle in Belgaum in
charge of his horses, one of which was so severely wounded by one of the
bears that the life of the horse was despaired of for some days. The
Colonel was determined to be avenged on the bears, had them marked down,
and, with the aid of his friends, bagged them both, but not before one of
the bears had thrown down one of the party, who ran a great risk of being
killed. The determination of the bear in following up his assailant was
in this instance very great.
I may here observe that some little caution is required in approaching,
and looking into caves, and examining the entrances for tracks of bears,
and the person doing so should be fully prepared for a sudden charge out
of the cave, and be ready to jump on one side. No cave should be
approached with the assumption that it is not at all likely that a bear
will be at home, and especial care should be taken in the case of a cave
with a drop in front of it over which a person might be hurled by a bear
charging suddenly out. To get a bear out of a cave is often no easy
matter, and different caves require, of course, different treatment. In
some cases the bear may be poked out with the aid of a long pole, and when
this is done the operation is both interesting and amusing, but care must
be taken to see that you have a man who understands bears, and knows by
the character of the growl when the bear really means to charge out into
the open, and also that the man with the stick can readily get out of the
way, which he cannot do in the case of every cave. The native with a long
pole, or rather stick, usually commences with a quiet nervous sort of
poke, which awakes the bear out of his midday slumbers and causes him to
rush at the stick with a furious growl. But this is merely a
demonstration, and the experienced native does not expect a charge, though
I need hardly say that he is well prepared to get out of the way. Then the
native commences to poke away in a more pronounced style, and at the same
time excites himself by calling in question the purity of Bruin's mother,
his female relations, and even those of his remote ancestors, to all of
which the bear responds by growls and rushes at the stick. At last his
growls and rushes at the stick become fierce and menacing, and all of a
sudden the experienced Hindoo, who by some instinctive knowledge is able
to gauge the charging moment, drops the stick and scuttles out of the way,
and the bear dashes headlong from the cave to be killed, or to make good
his escape, as the case may be. Poking a bear out of a cave is rather a
severe trial of one's nervous system, and if anyone doubts that he has
only to try it for himself, as it will perhaps show the individual that we
seldom rightly estimate the amount of nerve which we often expect natives
to show. I think I was never more startled in my life than I was one day
when I put my ramrod (it was of course in the muzzle loading days) into
the very narrow mouth of a cave in which I thought there was little chance
of Bruin being at home. A she-bear however was within, and all the fiercer
as she had cubs, but luckily she did not charge out, and I need hardly say
that I promptly drew back. Sometimes a cave may be so deep and tortuous
that the bear cannot be got out with the aid of a pole, and to meet such
cases I had stink balls made, as bears have very fine olfactory nerves and
seem particularly to object to disagreeable smells. These balls were
composed of asafoetida, pig dung, and any other offensive ingredient
that suggested itself to me at the time, and made up into about the size
of a cricket ball and then dried in the sun. The ball was, when required
to drive a bear out of a cave, impaled on the end of a long pole and
surrounded by dried grass, or any other inflammable material which was at
hand, and this being ignited the pole was thrust as far as possible into
the cave. This I found to be a highly successful plan, and I may mention
in passing that I have met with no account in the many sporting books I
have read of this being done previously. Sometimes large fires are lit in
the mouth of a cave with the view of smoking a bear out, but this is
rather a cruel process which I do not recommend. In some cases of
peculiarly shaped and situated caves it is, however, the only practicable
plan, but where adopted the bear should not be put to more inconvenience
than is necessary to drive him out. A large fire should be lit at the
entrance, and when the cave has got filled with smoke all the blazing
fragments of wood should be removed from the entrance, and in doing this
the people should talk loudly and make as much noise as possible, and
afterwards retreat to a distance from the cave leaving the sportsman with
his spare gun-carrier to sit just above the entrance to the cave. The bear
finding that, as he erroneously supposes, every one has gone away, and
being naturally desirous of quitting such uncomfortable quarters will,
after a short time, come cautiously out and may thus be easily shot. It is
very important to have a couple of bull-terriers when out bear shooting as
they are most useful in bringing a wounded bear to bay.
In considering these remarks upon the various ways of getting bears out of
caves it may be useful to show how not to attempt to get a bear out of a
cave, and the connecting circumstances will also be useful to anyone who
may be overtaken by a hill fire.
On one occasion many years ago news was brought in that a bear had been
marked down into a small and very narrow mouthed cave on a bare hillside,
and I accordingly proceeded to the spot. The whole mountain was at that
time covered with long grass, and as the cave was closely surrounded by
it, and the bear if poked out in the usual way would rush into the grass
and thus give a bad chance to the shooter, I devised what I thought, and
what at first appeared to be, an excellent plan for meeting the
difficulty. This was to set fire to the whole hill just below the cave,
and my theory was that, as the cave was a small one, the heat of the fire
and the smoke would cause the bear to quit the cave after the fire had
passed over it. The wind was, when we lit the fire, blowing from east to
west and I perched myself on a pile of rocks rather above, and to the
east of the bear's cave as, when leaving it, he would naturally go in a
direction opposite to that of the fire, in which case he would pass within
easy shot of my position. With this, distinctly original conception I was
highly pleased and watched the progress of the terrific conflagration that
ensued with interest and satisfaction. How it roared and leapt as it
consumed the long dried grass, and how soon would the bear be likely to
make its appearance! It reached the long grass around the cave and
proceeded to sweep along the hill, away from me, and flying before the
easterly wind. Presently there was a dead lull. A few seconds more and the
whole position was reversed. I had quite forgotten that, at that season of
the year, and that hour of the day, the east wind dies down, and the
westerly sea breeze comes in, and in an instant I was caught in my own
trap. First of all I thought I would screen myself behind one of the rocks
and remain where I was, but I was of course speedily enveloped with masses
of smoke, and then I thought I would get down and run; first of all,
however, I peeped over the rock, but merely to perceive a terrifying mass
of roaring red flames rushing towards me, and this finally determined me,
and I stuffed my handkerchief into my mouth and held on. As I had of
course leggings and was fully clothed I had much the best of it, but my
shikari with his bare limbs got a pretty good roasting. But the fire
seemed no sooner to have reached us than it was swept onwards quite away,
and I was astonished at the pace it travelled, which one can have no idea
of when one witnesses these conflagrations, as one usually does, from a
distance. Beyond feeling as if my lungs were on fire for a day or two
afterwards I experienced no ill effects from my temporary roasting, but
the experience I had was quite sufficient to show me the amount of
inconvenience a bear must suffer from being smoked out of his cave, and,
as I have previously pointed out, no more fire should be lit at the
entrance of a cave than is necessary to make it desirable for the bear to
leave it, which, as I have shown, he will soon do, if the people retire to
a distance. As for our bear, he probably knew far more about these hill
fires and the sudden changes of wind than I did, and had not the slightest
idea of coming out for some time, and I therefore had to introduce to his
notice one of my stink balls, which had the effect of bringing him out. By
way of a change I had intended fighting it out with the bear without
firing, and told a native to attack the bear with my spear when he
emerged, while I proposed, if he lodged his spear, to attack with the
bayonet of my Enfield rifle. But the spear came into contact with a bone
in the bear's back, and thus the point was broken off, and seeing that my
man had not lodged his spear I fired and killed the bear. From my
subsequent experience of the great power of the bear I am now glad that
the spear was not lodged.
Bear shooting from caves I have found to be a most interesting and
sometimes most entertaining and even amusing sport, while it is attended
with a sufficient amount of danger for all practical purposes. You never
get a laugh out of a tiger shikar, but you sometimes do in connection with
bears, and the following is at once an instance in point, and will besides
illustrate the danger of approaching a cave which is perhaps rarely
inhabited by bears, as also the surprising promptness of the bear in
action. And I say surprising, because from his shambling gait, general
deliberation of movement, and the clothing of long black hair which hides
the powerful form and limbs, his activity and quickness of movement when
aroused is astonishing to those who have no experience of bears. But to
proceed with my story.
One day, when returning from shooting in the mountains, we happened to
pass a bear's cave which was rarely inhabited--at least on former
occasions when we examined it we had found no traces of bears, nor had one
ever been marked into it that I was able to hear of, though the cave had
the reputation of being occasionally used by bears. The cave was in a
beehive-shaped pile of rocks standing on, or rather projecting from, a
steep hillside. From the upper side it is easily approached, but to get at
the mouth of the cave you have to step down, as it were, from the roof of
the beehive on to a ledge of rock about six feet wide, below which there
is a drop of ten or twelve feet. From the absence of any signs of bears
about the roof of the cave I assumed that the cave was as usual
uninhabited, but I thought I would gratify my curiosity by looking into
it, so I got down on to the ledge, and was imprudent enough to leave my
guns with the people on the roof above. As there were no signs of bears on
the ledge or at the entrance, I told one of the natives to go in and take
a look at the cave, but he had only penetrated a few feet from the
entrance, which was about five feet high, than with three furious growls a
bear charged headlong, and drove the intruder out with such force that he
was shot clean over the ledge, and alighting (luckily) on his side, rolled
some way down the steep hillside at the bottom of the drop. Bruin then
with wonderful readiness knocked down the other man, who had not presence
of mind enough to get out of the way, and after inflicting a scalp wound
on the back of his head, dropped over the ledge, and got off unharmed
amidst several shots which were fired at him by the people above, who of
course from their position could not see the bear till he had got to a
considerable distance. In the confusion that had occurred amongst the
people left on the roof of the cave, who were as much unprepared for a
bear as I was, some one had jostled my principal shikari--a testy and at
times rather troublesome old man, but a most keen sportsman--and, to the
great delight of every one, his shins had in consequence been barked
against a sharp piece of rock. All the sympathy that ought to have been
devoted to the wounded man he diverted to himself by the tremendous fuss
he made about his injured shins, and this, and the chaff he had to sustain
in consequence, quite rounded off the affair, and we all went home in high
good humour, and the wounded man for years afterwards used to show his
ear-to-ear scar with considerable satisfaction. Some people might have
objected to the escape of the bear, but I confess that I did not grudge
him the victory he had earned so well, and we consoled ourselves further
with the reflection that we would get the better of him next time. Before
concluding the subject of bears, I may give another incident which was
rather amusing, and the narration of which may be of use as illustrating
one or two points which are worthy of notice, and especially the advantage
of having a good dog with one.
On a mountain-side about five miles from my house is a rather large cave
of considerable depth--so deep, at least, that the longest sticks would
not reach to the end of it, and as we could get the bear out in no other
way, I lit a large fire at the entrance, and, after some time, sent all
the people away to a distance, and, with a single man to hold a second
gun, sat over the mouth of the cave. The result that I anticipated soon
followed, and, imagining that we had given up our project in despair, and
being naturally desirous of leaving such uncomfortable quarters, Bruin
presently appeared looking cautiously about. The smoke prevented my taking
a very accurate shot. However, I fired, and wounded the bear somewhere in
the throat, though not fatally, and he plunged into a jungly ravine close
to the cave, pursued by my bull terrier, an admirable and very courageous
animal, which attacked the bear, and detained him sufficiently long to
give me time to run to the other side of the ravine, and so get in front
of the bear. A hill-man accompanied me, armed with a general officer's
sword which I had brought out--why I really forget now, for it was
anything but sharp, which I now regret, as it would have been interesting
to see the effect of a really sharp sword on a bear's back. The bull
terrier now rejoined me, and, in company with two additional natives who
had run after us, I got on a piece of rock about three feet high. The man
with the sword stood on my right, and the two natives--who were
unarmed--on my left, and in this order we awaited the arrival of the bear.
Sore and angry, he presently emerged from the jungle at a distance of
about twenty-five or thirty yards further down the slope of the hill. I
fired at and hit him, and he then turned round, took a look at us, and
charged. As he came on I fired my remaining shot. Then the man with the
sword struck the bear a tremendous blow on the back (which I think would
have stopped the bear had the sword been sharp), and in a second more old
Bruin had thrown the whole of us off the rock on to the ground behind it.
There we were then--four men, a wounded bear, and a bull terrier, all
mixed up together. However, the man with the sword laid about him most
manfully, and the bear, either not liking the situation, or being
exhausted with his wounds and efforts (more likely the latter), retreated
into the ravine out of which he had emerged. Into this we presently
followed him, and after another shot or two he expired, and I have the
skin at homo with the mark of the sword-cut on the back. It had cut
through the shaggy hair, and only penetrated the skin sufficiently to
leave a scar. The man who had shown so much pluck was a young farmer from
the adjacent village, and I at once offered him the sword with which he
had defended me. But he seemed to think he had done nothing, and
positively declined it, saying that his neighbours would be jealous of his
having such a fine-looking thing. I had, however, a knife made after the
native fashion, and afterwards gave it to him in commemoration of the
event.
In Mysore there are two kinds of panthers. One, the largest of the two, is
called by the natives the Male Kiraba, or forest panther, and confines
itself generally to the forest regions, while the smaller kind haunts the
neighbourhood of villages. The black panther, which is of rare occurrence,
is merely an offshoot of the other varieties. The panther, in consequence
of its tree-climbing habits, and general aptitude for suddenly
disappearing, is of all animals the most disappointing to the sportsman,
so much so, indeed, that I soon gave up going out after them. Though it
has great strength, and from the amazing suddenness of its movements,
great means at its disposal for making successful attacks on man, it
seems, unlike the tiger, bear, and wild boar, to have no confidence in its
own powers, and though in one sense showing great daring by attacking dogs
even when they are in the house and quite close to people, is, when
attacked itself, of all animals the most cowardly--a fact which the
natives are well aware of, and which is proved by the small number of
people killed by panthers in proportion to the number of them accounted
for. The only way of insuring success when hunting panthers is to have a
small pack of country-bred dogs of so little value that when one or two of
them may chance to be killed by the panther the matter is of little or no
consequence. The pack will soon find the panther, and perhaps run him up a
tree, and thus give the sportsman a good, or rather certain chance of
killing the animal. In this way a manager of mine was very successful in
bagging panthers. I have some reason to suppose that the panther, when
severely wounded, sometimes feigns death, and give the following incident
with the view of eliciting further information on the subject.
Two natives in my neighbourhood once sat up over a kill, and apparently
killed a panther--at least it lay as if dead. They then with the aid of
some villagers, who afterwards arrived on the scene of action, began to
skin the panther, and the man who had wounded it took hold of the tail to
stretch the body out when the panther came suddenly to life, and bit the
man in the leg. One of the people present then fired at the panther,
apparently killing it outright. The man, who had been only slightly
bitten, then again took the animal by the tail, a proceeding which it
evidently could not stand, for this time it came to life in earnest, and
inflicted a number of wounds on the man at the tail. The natives then
attacked it with their hacking knives, and finally put an end to it. The
dresser of my estate was sent to the village, which was about six miles
away, to treat the wounds, but the unfortunate man died. I may add that
this is the only instance I have known of a man being killed by a panther
in my neighbourhood.
I now turn to an animal which is really dangerous, and I think more daring
than any animal in the jungles--the wild boar--and whatever doubts the
panther has of its own powers, I feel sure that the boar can have none--in
fact its action is not only daring, but at times even insulting. To be
threatened and attacked in the jungle one can understand, but to be
growled at and menaced while on one's own premises is intolerable. I never
but once heard the deep threatening don't-come-near-me growl of the wild
boar (and in the many sporting books I have read I never met with any
allusion to it), and that was some years ago, within about ten or fifteen
yards of my bungalow, and the incident is worth mentioning as showing the
great daring and coolness of the wild boar.
One evening at about seven o'clock, and on a clear but moonless night, I
went into the garden in front of my house. This is flanked by a low
retaining wall some three or four feet high--a wall built to retain the
soil when the ground was levelled--and below this a few bushes and plants
had sprung up close to the bottom of the wall. In these I heard what I
supposed to be a pariah dog gnawing a bone, and, in order to frighten it
away, I quietly approached within a few yards of the spot, and made a
slight noise between my lips. I was at once answered by a low deep growl,
which I at first took to be the growl of a panther, and I then walked back
to the bungalow and told my manager to bring a gun, telling him that there
was either a large dog (which on second thoughts appeared to me most
probable), or some animal gnawing a bone. We then quietly approached the
spot where we could hear the gnawing going on quite plainly about five
yards off. By my direction he fired into the bushes, and we then stood
still and listened, and presently heard what was evidently some heavy
animal walk slowly away. On the following morning I sent my most
experienced shikari to the spot, and he reported that the animal was a
wild boar, which had been munching the root of some plant, and the soil
being gravelly, the noise we had heard proceeded from the chewing of roots
and gravel together. This boar then had not only refused to desist from
his proceedings when I was within five yards of him, but had even warned
me, by the low growl afore mentioned, that if I came any nearer serious
consequences might ensue. On the following day I assembled some natives
and beat a narrow jungly ravine below my house, at a distance of about,
fifty yards from it, and there came out, not the boar, but his wife with a
family of five or six small pigs. She was shot by a native, and the young
ones got away, but the boar either was not there, or, more probably, was
too knowing to come out. He did not, however, neglect his family, but in
some way best known to himself, collected them together, and went about
with them, as, a day or two afterwards, he was seen with the young pigs by
my manager, and their tracks were also to be seen on one of the paths in
my compound, or the small inclosed park near my bungalow. This boar
afterwards became very troublesome, ploughed up the beds in my rose garden
at the foot of my veranda stops, and even injured a tree in the compound
by tearing off the bark with his formidable tusks. But, daring though he
was, he was once accidentally put to flight by a slash of an English
hunting whip. The boar, it appears, was making his round one night when my
manager, hearing something moving outside his bath-room, and imagining it
to be a straying donkey--we keep some donkeys on the estate--rushed out
with his hunting-whip, and made a tremendous slash at the animal, which
turned out to be the boar, so startling him by this unexpected form of
attack, that he charged up a steep bank near the house and disappeared.
This boar was afterwards shot by one of my people in an adjacent
jungle--at least a boar was shot, which we infer must have been the one in
question, as since then my garden has not been disturbed. The boar is more
dangerous to man than any animal in our jungles, and I have heard of three
or four deaths caused by them in recent years in my district. The natives,
however, say that, till he is wounded, the tiger is less dangerous than
the boar, but that after a tiger is wounded, he is the more dangerous of
the two; and I think that this is a correct view of the matter. The boar
has a most remarkable power of starting at once into full speed, and that
is why his attacks are so dangerous. In countries inhabited by wild boars
it is very important to be always on the alert. As an illustration of
this, and also of the great power of the boar, and of his sometimes
attacking people without any provocation on their part, I may mention the
following incident.
When I was walking round part of my plantation one morning with my
manager, and we chanced to stand in a path for a few moments (I forget now
for what reason), my dogs went down the hill into the coffee, and appear
there to have disturbed a boar. Luckily for myself, I always keep a sharp
look out, and my eye caught a glimpse of something black coming up amongst
the coffee. In a single second a boar appeared in the path some twenty
yards away. The path sloped downwards towards me, and at me he came, like
an arrow from a bow. As there was no use in my attempting to arrest the
progress of an animal of this kind, I stepped aside and let him into my
manager, who, luckily for himself, was standing behind a broken off coffee
tree, which stood at a sharp turn in the path some yards further on. The
result was very remarkable. The boar's chest struck against the coffee
tree and slightly bent it on one side. This threw the boar upwards, and,
of course, broke the force of the charge, but there was still enough force
left to toss my manager into an adjacent shallow pit with such violence
that his ear was filled with earth. I was now seriously alarmed, as I had
no weapon of any kind, but luckily the boar went on. His tusk, it
appeared, had caught the manager--a man of about six feet, and thirteen
stone in weight--under the armpit, but had merely torn his coat. We
organized a beat the same afternoon, and killed the boar, which was
suffering from an old wound, and this no doubt accounted, in some degree,
for his sudden and gratuitous attack. Tigers often attack the wild boar,
and there are often desperate battles between them, and well authenticated
instances have been known of the boar killing the tiger. I have never met
with one in my neighbourhood, though I once aided in killing a tiger which
had been ripped in several places by a boar. As it is impossible in
jungly districts to ride the wild boar, he is invariably shot, except
when, in the monsoon rains, he is occasionally speared. At that season the
wild pigs make houses, or rather shelters, for themselves by cutting with
their teeth and bending over some of the underwood, and under these they
repose. When such shelters are discovered, a man approaches them
cautiously and drives his spear through the shelter into the boar's back.
I have never seen this done, but have often heard of its being done where
I lived in former days, during the rainy season.
Boar's head pickled in vinegar and garnished with onions makes a good
dish, especially after harvest, when the pigs are in good condition, but,
from what I have known of the habits of the wild boar, I do not think I
should ever be inclined to partake of it again, and certainly not when
cholera is about. A neighbour of mine told me that when he was once
beating a jungle for game the natives backed out of it with great
promptness, having come upon wild pigs in the act of devouring the dead
bodies of some people who had died of cholera. I may mention that it was
customary in former times, and doubtless is so still to some extent, to
deposit the bodies of cholera victims anywhere in the jungle, instead of
burying them in the ordinary way. An official of the Forest Department
told me that, passing one day near the place where the carcase of an
elephant lay, he had the curiosity to go and look at it. To his
astonishment he found the flanks heaving as if the elephant were still
alive, and while he was wondering what this could mean, two wild boars,
which had tunnelled their way in, and were luxuriating on the contents of
the carcase, suddenly rushed out. From what I have hitherto said it seems
plain that wild boar is not a safe article of food, unless, perhaps, when,
it inhabits remote jungles where foul food can rarely be met with. I have
never made any measurements of wild boars, but Colonel Peyton--a
first-rate authority--writing in the "Kanara Gazetteer," says that some
are to be found measuring forty inches high, and six feet long.
The jungle dog (_kuon rutilans_) is a wolfish-looking-dog of a golden
brown colour, with hair of moderate length, and a short and slightly bushy
tail. It hunts in packs of seven and eight, and sometimes as many as
twenty and even thirty have been reported. In my neighbourhood I have
never actually known them to attack cattle or persons, but Colonel Peyton
tells us, in the "Kanara Gazetteer," that they grew very bold in the
1876-77 famine, and killed great numbers of the half-starved cattle which
were driven into the Kanara forests to graze, and since then a reward of
10 rupees has been paid for the destruction of each fully grown wild dog.
Colonel Peyton alludes to the native idea that these dogs attack and kill
tigers, but says that no instance of their having killed a tiger is known.
At the same time it is, he says, a fact that the tiger will give up his
kill to wild dogs, and will leave a place in which they are present in
large numbers. Some years ago I beat a jungle in which a tiger had killed
a bullock, and in which another tiger had on a former occasion lain up,
but the tiger was not there, and a number of jungle dogs were beaten out.
We afterwards found the tiger in a jungle about a mile away, and he had
evidently abandoned his kill, for no other reason, apparently, than
because of the presence of the dogs. An old Indian sportsman tells me of a
very widespread native tradition as to the action of these dogs previous
to attacking a tiger. Their belief is that the dogs first of all micturate
on each others' bushy tails, and, when rushing past the tiger, whisk their
tails into his eyes and thus blind him with, the objectionable fluid,
after which they can attack him with comparative impunity. A forest
officer informs me that the Gonds have a somewhat similar tradition, and
that they believe that the dogs first of all micturate on the ground
around the tiger, and that the effluvium has the effect of blinding
him.[23] The late Mr. Sanderson, in his "Thirteen Years amongst the Wild
Beasts of India," mentions an instance reported to him by the natives of
their finding a tiger sitting up with his back to a bamboo bush, so that
nothing could pass behind him, while the wild dogs were walking up and
down and passing quite close to him, evidently with the view of annoying
the tiger, and the position then taken up by the tiger seemed to show that
he was apprehensive of an attack. From his experience of the great power
of the wild dog, Mr. Sanderson entertained no doubt that they could kill a
tiger, though he knows of no instance of their having done so. The old
Indian sportsman above alluded to told me of a case where a tiger had been
marked down by native shikaris, and where they afterwards found wild dogs
eating the carcase of the tiger, which they had presumably killed, but I
cannot find any account of the dogs having been seen in the act of killing
a tiger, though I can easily conceive that a hungry tiger, and an equally
hungry pack of wild dogs may have come into collision over a newly killed
animal, and that the dogs may then in desperation have killed the tiger.
A Coorg planter who has had opportunities of observing the habits of those
dogs, tells me that when hunting a deer they do not run in a body, but
spread out rather widely, so as to catch the deer on the turn if it moved
to right or left. Some of the dogs hang behind to rest themselves, so as
to take up the running when other dogs, which have pressed the deer hard,
get tired. He once had a bitch the product of a cross between a Pariah and
a jungle dog. When she had pups she concealed them in the jungle, and in
order to find them she had to be carefully watched and followed up. She
went through many manoeuvres to prevent the discovery of her pups, and
pottered about in the neighbourhood of the spot where she had concealed
them, as if bent on nothing in particular. Then she made a sudden rush
into the jungle and disappeared. After much search her pups were found in
a hole about three feet deep, which she had dug on the side of a rising
piece of ground. The bitch did not bark--the jungle dog does not--and the
pups barked but slightly, but the next generation barked as domestic dogs
do.
Many years ago I met with a very singular and puzzling circumstance in
connection with jungle dogs. I had offered a reward of five rupees for a
pup, and one day several natives from a village some three or four miles
away, brought me a pup--apparently about six or eight months old. This, it
appears, they had caught by placing some nets near the carcase of a tiger
I had killed, and on which a pack of these dogs was feeding. They drove
the dogs towards the nets, which they jumped, but the pup in question was
caught in the net. My cook now appeared on the scene and declared that the
pup belonged to him, and that he had brought it from Bangalore, and on
hearing this I declined, of course, to pay the reward. As I had never, and
have never, seen a jungle dog pup, I neither could then, nor can now,
undertake to say whether the pup was a wild one or not, though it seemed
to me that it might have been a kind of mongrel animal with a good deal of
the pariah dog in it. The natives then requested the cook to take the pup
and pay them five rupees for their trouble. This he declined to do, and
they then said they would take it back to the carcase of the tiger and let
it go. This they did, and the pup was never heard of again, and I assume
that it must have rejoined the wild dogs. As my cook had no conceivable
motive for falsely asserting that the dog was his, I can only assume that
the animal had strayed away and joined the pack of wild dogs.
There is no reward for killing wild dogs in Mysore, as is the case in the
Madras Presidency, and I should strongly advise that one should be given,
as from the great destruction of the game, on which they at present live,
these animals will soon become very destructive to cattle, and possibly,
or even probably, dangerous to man. And it is the more important to attend
to this matter at once, because I find, from Jerdon's "Mammals of India,"
that the bitch has at least six whelps at a birth, and he mentions that
Mr. Elliot (the late Sir Walter) remarks that the wild dog was not known
in the Southern Maharatta country until of late years, but that it was now
very common; and he adds that he once captured a bitch and seven cubs, and
had them alive for some time. No one has any interest in killing these
jungle dogs, and until a reward is offered for their destruction, they
will go on increasing at an alarming rate.
I now pass on to offer some remarks on snakes, and especially on the great
number of deaths said to be caused by them, and I say said to be caused by
them, because I have good reason to suppose that the immense number of
deaths (sometimes returned at 17,000 or 18,000 for all India) reported as
being caused by them, are really poisoning cases which are falsely
returned as being due to snake bite. When mentioning this surmise on
board of a P. and O. ship to two civilians, they demurred to the idea, and
I then asked them if they had ever known within their own cognizance of a
man being killed by a snake--i.e., either seen a man fatally bitten, or
who had been fatally bitten. They never had, and that too during a service
of about twenty-four years. I then, out of curiosity, made inquiries
through all the first-class passengers, and at last met with one lady who
had a gardener who had been killed by a snake. I also got my English
servant to make a similar inquiry in the second-class, and no passenger
there had known of a case, though one of them had been engaged in
surveying operations for ten years. My attention has been particularly
called to this subject in consequence of my own long experience, which
stretches back to the year 1855, and, though cobras have been killed in
and around my house, and in the plantations, I have not only never known
of a death from snake bite on my estates, but have, since the date
mentioned, never heard of but one case in my neighbourhood, and that was
of a boy who was killed by some deadly snake about four or five miles from
my house. I made inquiries in Bangalore on this subject. Now Bangalore is
a place which always had a bad reputation as regards cobras. The
population is large, and there are, of course, numerous gardens, and many
grass cutters are employed, and the occupations there of a large number of
people are such as to make them liable to risk from snake bite; and yet,
in the course of the year, there had only been, three cases of snake bite.
How is it then that such an infinitesimal number of the cases reported on
occur within the cognizance of Europeans? And unless some competent
observer is at hand to determine the cause of death, what can be easier
than to poison a man, puncture his skin, and then point to the puncture as
an evidence that the death was caused by snake bite?
Of one thing I feel certain, and that is, that the cobra is a timid snake,
that it is not at all inclined to bite, and unless assailed and so
infuriated, will not bite, even if trodden on by accident, as long as the
snake is not hurt, which, of course, it would not be if trodden upon by
the bare foot, and that is why, I feel sure, I have so rarely heard of a
man being bitten by a snake during my long experience in India. I can give
a remarkable confirmatory instance, which happened at my bungalow some
years ago. My English servant had got his feet wet one morning, and had
placed his shoes to dry on a ledge of the bungalow just above the place
where the bath-room water runs out. At about three in the afternoon he
went in his slippers round the end of the bungalow to get his shoes, and
trod on a cobra which was lying in the soft and rather muddy ground
created by the bath-room water. He had stepped on to about the middle of
the snake's body, but probably rather nearer the tail than the head. The
cobra then reared up its body, spread its hood, hissed, and struggled to
get free, while my servant held up his hands to avoid the chance of being
bitten, and he said that he could see that the afternoon sun was
illuminating the interior of its throat, but he was afraid to let it go,
thinking that it would then be more able to bite him. This, however, he is
quite positive it never attempted to do, and after some moments of
hesitation he jumped to one side, and the snake, so far from offering to
bite when liberated, went off in the opposite direction with all speed. I
am sure that wild animals perceive quite as readily as tame ones do the
difference between what is purely accidental, and what results from malice
prepense. The snake must have perceived that its being trodden upon was a
pure accident, and, as it was not hurt, did not bite. A Brahmin once told
me of a somewhat similar case, where his mother, seeing what she supposed
was a kitten in a passage of the house, gave it a push on one side with
her foot. It turned out to be a cobra, which spread its hood and hissed,
but never offered to bite her. Colonel Barras, the author of some charming
natural history books, told me that he quite agrees that the cobra is
disinclined to bite, and pave me a practical illustration of this which
had fallen within his own observation. On one occasion, when some of my
coolies were crossing a log, which was lying on the ground, my overseer,
just as they were doing so, observed that under a bent-up portion of the
log there was a cobra. He waited till all the coolies had crossed over and
moved on, and then stirred up the cobra and killed it. I mention these
instances to show that it is probably owing to the fact of the cobra not
being at all an aggressive snake, and not being given to bite unless
attacked, or hurt, that no death has occurred on my estates, or in my
neighbourhood during such a long period of time.
But there is probably another reason, which has not, that I am aware of,
been taken into account by previous writers, and that is that snakes keep
a much better look out, and perceive the approach of people from a much
greater distance than is usually supposed. I was much struck with this
fact on two occasions this year. In one case I was walking along a foot
road in my compound, and on going round a bend of the road saw, about
thirty yards away, a snake in the road with its body half raised, and
evidently in an on-the-look-out attitude, and the moment it perceived me
it lowered its body and went off through the long grass. In the other case
I saw a snake on bare ground upwards of 100 yards away which had evidently
seen me, for it made off in the way which a disturbed snake always does. I
was this year surprised to hear tigers and snakes classed together as to
running away by a toddy-drawer--a class of people who are often out in the
jungle at dusk, and sometimes later. I had made a new four feet trace of
about a mile long along a beautiful ridge which connects my estate with an
outlying piece of the property, and unfortunately mentioned to my wife
that at the end of the path tigers crossed over occasionally (it was a
tiger pass as the natives call it), and she objected to go there late in
the evening. Being desirous of going to the end of the path one evening, I
called to a toddyman in my employ and told him to accompany us, telling my
wife that he was a timid creature and not likely to incur any risk he
could avoid. I mentioned to him the apprehension of the lady, when he
said, "Tigers and snakes run away," and he seemed to have no apprehension
as regards either of them, though part of the land in which he cut toddy
trees was on the tiger pass. And I may mention that I this year wounded a
tiger within fifty yards of the pass, and on the following morning saw the
tracks of a tiger and tigress (the track of the latter is easily to be
distinguished as it is longer and narrower than that of the male) in the
jungle adjoining the end of the foot road alluded to.
As many Europeans kill all snakes they meet with, it is well to mention
that the tank snake--a large snake often from nine to ten feet long--is
not only harmless but useful, as it lives so largely on rats and mice, and
is in consequence sometimes called the rat snake. On one occasion a
manager shot one of these snakes near my house, and it had a rat in its
mouth when killed, and such snakes, so far from being killed, ought to be
carefully protected. I was this year rather interested in observing the
proceedings of one of these snakes when followed up by two dogs of mine in
the open. First of all, it made for a clump of two or three scrubby trees,
and, apparently first fastening itself by the neck to a stump, lashed out
with its tail. Then when the dogs came closer it again made off through
the grass, but on being overtaken by the dogs must have either bitten one
of them, or lashed it with its tail, as the dog gave a sharp cry and
retreated. On a previous occasion one of these snakes bit a dog of mine,
and it was not in the slightest degree affected. These snakes travel at a
fair pace, and I found by trotting along parallel to one that it can move
at the rate of the moderate jog trot of a horse, and apparently keep up
this pace with ease. But, though it would be easy for me to write more
about snakes, the reader has probably heard enough of them, and I hope has
learnt some facts of practical importance by the way, and I shall now
offer a few remarks on jungle pets.
It is commonly supposed that wild animals naturally or instinctively dread
man, but it seems to me that, though no doubt a certain degree of dread of
man may have been, after having been acquired by experience, transmitted
to the offspring, wild animals require to be taught to dread man by their
parents, for we find that if animals are caught when very young and are
not confined in any way, they not only do not dread man, but eventually
prefer his society to that of their own species.
The first instance I have to notice of this is in the case of a spotted
deer stag which belonged to a neighbour of mine. This animal, which had
been caught when a fawn, used to accompany the coolies in the morning and
remained with them all day, but in the evening it went into the jungle
regularly and disappeared for the night, and again turned up at the
morning muster with unfailing regularity. It thus roamed the jungle all
night, and remained with man all day. At last it became dangerous to man,
as tame stags often do, and had to be shot.
Another still more extraordinary instance was in the case of a pet of my
own--what the natives call a flying cat, but in reality a flying squirrel
(_Pteromys petaurista_)--an animal that sleeps all day and feeds at night
(though on one occasion, mentioned in a previous chapter, I saw one
feeding on fruit at about seven one morning), and is in habits somewhat
like the bat, though clearly of the squirrel order. Its wings, if indeed
they may be called such, consist merely of a flap of skin stretching from
the fore to the hind legs. When at rest this flap, as it folds into the
side, is not very noticeable, and the animal presents, when on the ground,
or on the branch of a tree, the appearance of a very large, grey furred
squirrel. It cannot, of course, rise from the ground, but, when travelling
from tree to tree, it spreads its flap, or perhaps rather sets its sail,
by the agency of osseous appendages attached to the feet, but which fold
up against the leg when the animal is at rest, and starts like a man on
the trapeze--descending from one point to rise again to about a similar
level on the next tree, but when the flight is extended (Jerdon, in his
"Mammals of India," says he has seen one traverse in the air a distance of
sixty yards) the squirrel reaches the tree very low down. When clearing
the forest these squirrels often emerged from their holes in the trees and
gave me good opportunities of observing their movements, and I feel sure
that I have seen them traverse distances of at least 100 yards. One of
these squirrels was brought to me when it was about half grown, and came
to consider my house as its natural home. It soon discovered a suitable
retreat for the day in the shape of an empty clothes-bag hanging at the
back of a door, and in this it slept all day. It came out at dusk, and
used often to sit on the back of my high backed chair as I sat at dinner,
and then I gave it fruit and bread. After dinner away it went to the
jungle, and I seldom saw anything more of it till very early in the
morning, when it used to enter the house by an open swing window, get on
to my bed, and curl itself up at my feet. When I rose my pet did so too
and betook itself to the clothes-bag, and there spent the day, to go
through the same round the following night. This very pretty and
interesting animal met with the common fate of defenceless pets, and was
killed by a dog as it was making its way to the jungle one evening.
A third instance I may give as regards the way in which wild animals
readily become domesticated, and eventually seem to prefer the society of
man to that of their own species. In this case my pet was a hornbill, a
bird of discordant note, and with a huge beak, and a box-like crowned
head. This creature was also totally unrestrained, but showed a most
decided preference for the society of man. One day it joined some of its
species which made their appearance in the jungle near my house, but soon
got tired of or disgusted with them, and speedily returned to the
bungalow. It used to swallow its food like a man taking a pill, and it was
surprising to observe the ease with which balls of rice of about the size
of two large walnuts were dispatched. On one occasion it flew off with my
bunch of keys, but was luckily seen by my servant, who gave the alarm. The
bird threw back its head the moment it alighted on the first convenient
branch, and it was only from the ring sticking in the front of its beak
that it was prevented from swallowing the entire bunch. Finding my people
close upon it, the bird flew away to a piece of forest some hundreds of
yards away, where it seemed to take a most aggravating pleasure in
dangling my keys from the tops of the loftiest trees, and it was some time
before it let them drop, which I conclude it at last did merely because it
could not swallow them.
Now, though none of the pets I have mentioned were made miserable by
restraint, and evidently must have found themselves perfectly happy in the
society of man, it is very remarkable that, though all of them must have
had (and the bird certainly had) frequent opportunities of making the
acquaintance of their species as they roamed the jungle at night, they
regularly returned to the society of man. I can only conjecture that the
force of habit must have, as it were, chained them to the place they had
become accustomed to. It is difficult to guess at any other reason than
the force of habit, but it is just possible that the following fact may
have something to do with their neglect of their own species. It is well
known that a great many animals and birds refuse to, or cannot, propagate
their kind when in a state of confinement. Now these pets of mine, and the
stag which belonged to my neighbour, were not indeed confined in any
sense, but it is just possible that the altered conditions under which
they lived may have acted on their animal desires, and so have rendered
them indifferent to the society of their species. Or perhaps it is
conceivable that, in consequence of their living in or about an inhabited
dwelling, they may have contracted bodily impurities which may have been
perceptible to their wild congeners.
I had here intended to close this chapter, but a few lines more must be
devoted to guns, or rather to a gun, for the general opinion in India now
seems to be that only one gun is necessary for shooting shot and ball--at
least for all shot shooting and ball shooting in the jungly countries.
That gun is the widely-known Paradox, which, up to 100 yards, is as
accurate as a double rifle, and even at 150 yards makes very fair
practice. This gun was a good many years ago recommended to me by Sir
Samuel Baker, and I found it to be such an excellent weapon that I now use
no other. The great advantage of the Paradox is that the gun is a good
shot gun, and gives a pattern quite equal to the best of cylinder guns,
and of course comes up to the shoulder so readily that the sportsman can
take snap shots as well as with any other fowling-piece. The immense
advantage of this in a jungly country, and in one with long grass, must be
readily apparent to anyone accustomed to shoot in such regions, where you
often require to be able to fire as sharply as you do at a snipe rising
just within range.
I am informed by Messrs. Holland and Holland, of 98, New Bond Street (the
makers of the Paradox guns), that the Paradox system of ball and shot guns
was the invention of Colonel Fosbery, V.C. Originally it was intended for
the ordinary 12-bore guns, but its principle has now been applied to
smaller weapons, such as those of 20 bore, and also to heavy guns of 8 or
10 bore for attacking elephants, bison, and other very large game. Guns of
the two last-named bores are from two to three pounds lighter than rifles
of similar bores, and the increased handiness caused by the diminution of
weight is of course of immense advantage. Messrs. Holland and Holland
inform me that they have made many experiments with the 8-bore Paradox
against the 8-bore rifle, and in every case have obtained higher velocity
and greater penetration with the Paradox. The new 10-bore is almost a 9,
and practically is big enough for any game. It shoots 8 drams of powder,
and a fairly long conical bullet, and its weight is about 12-1/2 lbs.
Messrs. Holland and Holland have invented a new steel bullet for these
guns, and with this the penetration is very great. The 20 and 16-bore
Paradox guns weigh from 6-1/2 lbs. to 7 lbs., and are largely used on the
Continent for shooting wild boar, bears, and other large game. Nearly all
these guns are made with hammers, because as a rule sportsmen travelling
in wild countries prefer to have the old-fashioned hammer guns, which are
so universally understood, instead of a hammerless gun, which cannot be so
easily repaired should it break down in any part. Messrs. Holland and
Holland inform me that for the ordinary 12-bore Paradox weighing 7 lbs.
the usual charge of 3 drams is all that is necessary for soft-skinned
animals such as tigers, leopards, and bears, but they also make a heavier
12-bore, weighing from 8 lbs. to 8-1/2 lbs., and shooting 4 or 4-1/2
drams of powder, but generally recommend the usual 7 lbs. Paradox, and,
from my experience of the latter with tigers, I do not think one could
desire a better gun for all jungle shooting, though I need hardly add that
for antelope shooting on the plains a long range rifle is desirable.
FOOTNOTES:
[21] "Jungle Life in India, or the Journeys and Journals of an Indian
Geologist," by V. Ball, M.A. London, Thos. De La Rue and Co., 1880.
[22] "My Indian Journal," by Colonel Walter Campbell. Edinburgh, Edmonston
and Douglas, 1864.
[23] In Jerdon's "Mammals of India" it is stated that in Nepaul the wild
dogs, whose urine is said to be peculiarly acrid, sprinkle it over bushes
through which an animal will probably move with the view of blinding their
victim. Jerdon certainly disbelieves the native story of their capturing
their prey through the acridity of their urine. It seems to me not
improbable that the wild dogs may have become aware of the offensive
character of their urine, and in passing near a tiger might discharge some
of it with the view of annoying the tiger and driving him away, and also
perhaps as a mark of contempt, and that this probably was the origin of
the widely spread story I have alluded to in the text.
CHAPTER VI.
THE INDIAN BISON.
Though at the risk of being thought sentimental, I cannot say that I
approach the subject of bison shooting with much satisfaction, except,
perhaps, in the thought that what I am about to write may be the means of
prolonging in some degree, however infinitesimal, the existence of the
race of these splendid animals, for I am afraid that nothing that anyone
could write would prevent their numbers from being steadily diminished,
and diminished, too, in some cases even by people who call themselves
sportsmen; for one rather well-known writer has not only killed cow
bisons, but actually published the fact--a thing that he certainly would
not have done had the custom of shooting them not been common in some
parts of India. I am happy to say that I never saw a dead cow bison, and
in my part of Mysore, in the course of upwards of thirty-seven years'
experience, I have never heard of more than two or three cows having been
killed. Anything more foolish and barbarous than the killing of cow bisons
cannot be conceived, for there is not a more harmless and inoffensive
animal in the jungle than the bison--harmless because it seldom
attacks[24] crops (I have never known of more than one instance of their
doing so), and inoffensive because, if not molested, it never attacks man;
and Mr. Sanderson, in his admirable work entitled "Thirteen Years amongst
the Wild Beasts of India," declares that even solitary bulls, which are
supposed to be dangerous, even if not molested, are not really so, though
in the event of a native coming suddenly on a bull in the long grass, he
admits the bison may spring suddenly up and dash at the intruder to clear
him from his path. He has a most sympathetic chapter on these noble
animals, and has enjoyed from an elephant's back the best opportunities of
observing them, as the bison does not fear the elephant, in whose company
indeed it is often found to be, and after having thus observed a herd of
bison grazing, he says that he has "often left the poor animals
undisturbed." Laterly he never thought of attacking herd bison, as it is
often difficult to get a shot at the bull of the herd, and confined his
shooting to those old solitary bulls which have been turned out of the
herds by younger and more vigorous animals. These ought alone, indeed, to
be the object of pursuit, and it is one usually carried on under such
circumstances and amidst such splendid scenes that the sport is very
attractive, and the pursuit of the solitary bull, writes Mr. Sanderson,
can never, he imagines, pall on the most successful hunter. Perhaps this
is true, but after having killed, say six solitary bulls, I think that a
sportsman ought to be content for the rest of his life. A young forest
officer lately told me that, having killed about that number, he had
announced to his friends his intention of not killing any more. Shortly
afterwards he fell in with two bulls who were engaged in a fierce battle
with each other, and he might easily have shot one or perhaps both of
them, but he had strength of mind to resist the temptation, a fact which,
if known, would certainly entitle him to advancement in the service.
I have said that the bison, unless molested, will never attack man, and I
was so confident of this that I once sent a highly valued European in my
employ, to photograph a solitary bull, merely sending with him a native
with a gun, and with instructions to fire in the event of the photographer
being attacked. I selected a small piece of open swampy grass ground in a
detached piece of jungle through which solitary bulls often passed, and
knowing the direction of the wind at that season of the year, had no
difficulty in avoiding any chance of the bull winding the photographer.
The camera was placed on the edge of the jungle, and presently a bull came
slowly grazing along the swamp, when he unluckily looked up to find the
photographer just taking the cap off, within about ten paces. Never was
there anything more annoying, and the thing would have been a magnificent
success had my man been provided with the instantaneous process. But he
was not, and the bull turned and fled through the mud with a most
tremendous rush, having, I suppose, taken the lens for the glare of the
eye of some new kind of tiger. The sudden change in the appearance of the
bull was described to me as being most remarkable, for as he grazed
quietly along he appeared to be one of the most harmless and domestic of
animals, while the moment the sight of the camera fell on his astonished
vision he was at once transformed into the wildest looking animal
conceivable.
It is difficult to believe that big game in remote spots can perceive
whether a man means to harm them or not, but it is remarkable that when on
his way to the jungle alluded to, the photographer passed two sambur deer
in the long grass, and at no great distance away, and saw them still lying
there on his return. A bear was also rolling and grunting in the jungle
close to him as he was waiting for the bull. On his return to the hut (put
up for the occasion about a mile away) he was amused to find the native
servant I had sent with him seated between two roasting fires which he
imagined, and perhaps not without reason, would prevent his being attacked
by a tiger. During the absence of my amateur photographer either a tiger
or panther had passed close to the hut.
The photographer returned to the swamp on the following morning, but no
bull arrived, and I gave up the attempt to obtain a photograph of a bison.
But it is time now to describe the bison.
The Indian bison (_Gavoeus Gaurus_, sometimes called the Gaur) is the
largest member in the world of the ox tribe. It is quite free from mane or
shaggy hair of any kind. The cows are of a dark brown, while in mature and
old bulls the colour approaches to black. The legs from the knee downwards
are of a dirty white (I once saw two bison with apparently blue legs, the
colour being caused by standing on ashes, and this gave them a very
remarkable appearance), and so is the forehead. The bison has no hump. It
has a marked peculiarity in the shape of the back from the dorsal ridge
running with a slight upward slope to about the middle of the back and
then dropping suddenly towards the rump. Mr. Sanderson has never shot a
bull more than six feet in height at the shoulder (if measured at the top
of the dorsal ridge the height would of course be more), but Jerdon the
naturalist, quoting Elliot (the late Sir Walter, a very careful observer)
mentions six feet one-and-a-half inch as the height of one. I have
generally found that an average sized bull is six feet, but I once killed
one that was seven feet, and a neighbour of mine who has seen a great deal
of bison shooting has killed one of similar height, and he informs me that
he is positive that he has seen a larger bull than either of these very
exceptional animals.
Bison herds generally number about twelve or fourteen, and I have never
seen one of more than twenty-three, but at certain seasons they
congregate in considerable numbers and again separate into small herds.
They lie at night in a compact circle so that if attacked by a tiger they
are ready to oppose at once a good front to the enemy. They seem to be
quite aware that if they were to lie scattered about a tiger might
suddenly spring upon one of them.
The bison has never been kept long in captivity, and there is only one
instance of its having been so, and that is in the case of a bull bison
now in possession of His Highness the Maharajah of Mysore. The history of
this animal, and more especially of the warm friendship that sprung up
between it and a doe sambur deer, is extremely interesting. I took down
the following from my neighbour Mr. Park, and read over to him the account
I now give.
It appears then that Mr. Park when out shooting some years ago, caught a
male calf bison which was supposed to be about three days old. About a
week afterwards a young doe sambur, which was being pursued by jungle
dogs, rushed into one of the labourer's huts and was secured. It was then
resolved to keep the deer as a companion for the bison, and the two were
kept together, though they were never shut up. They were first of all fed
on milk, and then allowed to graze, and soon became quite inseparable
companions. They were fed at twelve o'clock and at four in the afternoon,
and seemed to know their feeding time exactly. When about two years old it
was resolved to fit the bison with a nose rope, and for this the nose had
of course to be bored. He was tied up to a tree to be operated on and,
after the hole was bored, he was liberated, when he rushed all over the
ground adjacent to the house bellowing with rage--the only time, I may
add, Mr. Park ever heard him bellow. After this he was regularly led out
to graze by a man who trained him, by pulling the nose rope, to go in one
direction or another. After this he was fed on gram (a kind of pea). When
thus led out to graze the sambur sometimes remained behind, but seemed to
have no difficulty in finding the bull even though it had been taken to a
considerable distance. It would hold up its nose to catch the scent and
then go off on the track. When the bison occasionally missed the doe he
would wander about in search of her, but seemed to have no power of
following her by scent--a power which she evidently possessed and
practised. When the doe bathed in the river and splashed up the water with
her fore feet the bull would stand upon the bank watching her proceedings
with evident interest and curiosity, but did not himself bathe, nor appear
to have any desire to go into the water. The bison, however, seemed to
enjoy the cooling effect of the heavy monsoon rains, and no doubt thought
that a shower bath of some hundreds of inches was quite enough for the
rest of the year.
When the bull was about three years old it was presented to the Maharajah
of Mysore, and sent off to the nearest railway station some sixty miles
away. Some time after he had left, the doe discovered his absence, and
then, in her usual way, went about holding up her nose in order to
discover the direction in which he had gone. Presently she hit off the
route and, setting off in pursuit, overtook her old companion after he
gone about five or six miles, and, though the doe had not been given to
the Maharajah, she was allowed to accompany the bull. When the doe
overtook the bull he showed the greatest signs of pleasure at her arrival,
and the two travelled happily along to Mysore.
I saw the bison at Mysore in 1891, when it looked remarkably well and
happy, though the doe was not with it at the time. I was since glad to
hear from a friend, who had seen them last October, that these strange and
inseparable companions are in excellent health. It was very fortunate that
the doe accompanied the bull, as I think it probable that the latter
would have pined away and died, as the bison seems hitherto always to have
done in captivity.
Bison are often attacked by tigers, and I once found the remains of one
that had been killed by a tiger. It had been killed on the grass land
between two and three hundred yards from the jungle, and I was much struck
by the fact that the tiger had separated the head from the body and
carried it into the forest, where I found the skull. It appeared to be
that of a fair sized bull. But the largest bulls are sometimes killed by
tigers, though I imagine that this must be rare, or we should not find
very old bulls in a country where tigers are plentiful. A tiger I believe
sometimes tires out a bull by inducing him to charge again and again till
he is quite worn out, and sometimes, I am informed by an experienced
sportsman, two tigers will join in attacking a bison, and have been known
to hamstring it. I have been told by a toddyman who lived on the edge of
the forest region, that in a valley near his house he had seen a tiger
worrying a bison and inducing it to charge for nearly a whole day and
ultimately killing it. But sometimes the bison succeeds in driving off the
tiger, which then slinks away. About two years ago an interesting
illustration took place of this, which was witnessed by a neighbour of
mine, who found that when stalking a bull bison he had a fellow stalker in
the shape of a tiger. The incident was at once rare and interesting--in
fact, so far as I know, quite unique--and I asked my friend to write me an
account of it for publication in my book.
"When I was returning," writes my friend Mr. Brooke Mockett, "one day in
the beginning of the monsoon of 1891, from visiting a plantation of mine
near the Ghauts, I deflected somewhat from my route to visit an adjacent
range of minor hills, and presently entered a shallow valley, on the
opposite side of which the forest land was fringed with some scrubby
bushes mingled with ferns, outside of which was a stretch of open grass
land. As I entered the valley I saw on the opposite side of it a solitary
bull bison grazing along towards the open grass land. This, at the rate he
was moving, he would soon reach. I therefore took up a position so as to
get a shot at him when he got fairly into the open land, where he would be
immediately below and opposite to me. Two Hindoo ryots--always called
goudas in Manjarabad--from a neighbouring village were with me, and were
keeping a sharp look out. We were all quite concealed in the long grass.
Presently one of them whispered, 'Look, look, there is a tiger stalking
the bison,' and, after peering into the bushes for a few seconds, I at
last made out the tiger, which was about 200 yards further along the
valley to the east of the bison, towards which it was stealthily creeping.
I at once decided not to interfere at present, but to leave the animals
alone and watch the result. The tiger struck me as being a small one, and
the goudas thought so too. It was probably the same one that had some
weeks before killed a three-parts-grown bison, the remains of which we saw
when on the way to the spot. The bull was a magnificent animal, and just
in his prime. It was a most exciting scene; the ponderous bull grazing
quietly along the valley in utter ignorance of danger, and feeding so
industriously that he never once lifted his head from the ground, while
the tiger crawled towards him in a manner that was exquisite to see. Belly
to the ground, its movements resembled rather those of a snake than an
animal as it wound its way through the scrub, gliding through the ferns,
and taking advantage of all the bushes. Occasionally it sat up to peer
cautiously at the bull, and then sinking down it again glided on. Except
now and then, when the bushes were low, I doubt if it could see the bull,
nor could the latter scent the tiger, for the bull was feeding down the
valley in the teeth of the strong monsoon winds, and the tiger was
following in its tracks.
"As the two goudas sitting with me in the long grass observed the
movements of the tiger, they could not contain their indignation. No doubt
they thought of the many cattle they had recently lost, and, connecting
the present revelation of the tiger's mode of proceeding with the
slaughter of their buffaloes, they relieved their feelings by uttering
_sotto voce_ the most virulent abuse of the tiger, its wife, and its
female relations in general, and every fresh movement of the tiger drew
from them some extremely powerful and untranslatable epithets. The
temptation to fire at the tiger was very great, but I refrained, as every
moment brought them nearer to me, and it seemed certain that the fight
must come off just below the ground I was seated on.
"The scene was now an extremely exciting one, for the animals were about
200 yards from us, the bull having fed to within fifty yards of the open
grass, and the tiger having crept so close to him that every moment we
expected something to happen. We saw the tiger crawl right up to the bull,
and it seemed to get actually within a yard of it, and yet it did not
spring. A few seconds more passed, and then the bull, suddenly becoming
aware of the tiger's presence, made a rapid rush forward into the open
grass land outside of the scrub. Then he pulled up at a distance from it
of about sixty yards, and faced round in the direction of the tiger. Had
he liked, he might have gone away altogether; but, far from showing fear,
he was furious, and looked superb as he shook his head and snorted with
rage. Then for about two minutes he stood as still as if carved of stone,
evidently straining all his senses to discover the tiger, after which he
made a terrific charge up to the edge of the scrub, where he pulled up and
again snorted, and shook his head. If ever a bison meant business he did,
and could he have seen the tiger he would have certainly tried to kill it,
but it was hiding in the scrub and was invisible to him, though we could
just make out its golden red skin.
"The sight of the infuriated bull within a few yards was altogether too
much for the tiger, which now turned and commenced to sneak off with
astonishing rapidity, keeping completely out of the bison's sight, and
looking like the most abject wretch imaginable. My goudas became frantic
at this, and seeing that there was now no chance of a fight between the
bull and the tiger, I rushed along the hill with the view of trying to get
a good shot at the latter, but this I found would be impossible, so I
rested my rifle on a stamp, and, as he moved through the scrub, took a
long shot, which knocked him off his legs, and we saw him partly roll and
partly scramble into the dense jungle below. A shout of 'The bull is
going,' from the goudas, made me look back, and just as he was starting I
hastily fired my second barrel into his shoulder and dropped him dead. We
then went to look for the tiger, but, most unfortunately, the rain, which
up to this time had kept off, descended in torrents, and the whole country
became enveloped in dense mist. We found the spot where the tiger had been
knocked over, and the goudas soon discovered cut hair (by the bullet), a
sure proof of a hit. We could see where he had rolled down, the slope to
the thick forest, crushing the ferns, and tearing up the ground with his
struggles, but the blood was of course washed away by the tropical rain
torrents. Within the forest, which was almost impenetrable, all was dark
as night, and as no track could be seen, and we were soon all drenched to
the skin, it was impossible to do anything more, and I was compelled to
give up the pursuit. Why the tiger, after getting so close to the bison
did not attack, it is impossible to say, but the men who accompanied me
were of opinion that, owing to the bison being partly hidden by the
scrub, the tiger could not gauge its size till quite close to it, and then
was afraid to attack such a large bull."
I think that their surmise is correct, and as I have before suggested, I
think that these very large bulls are but rarely attacked by tigers, for
my experience shows that solitary bulls are easily stalked, to within
quite close distances, and, were the tigers easily able to kill them, I
feel sure that a solitary bull would very seldom be found.
I have said that the bison is a harmless animal, but this of course is
only when you keep away from it, and a wounded bison should be approached
and tracked up with caution, and in no case should a single tracker follow
up a wounded bull. He should always have a companion to keep a general
look out in case of the bull suddenly charging the tracker when he is busy
following the trail. On one occasion a manager of mine went out shooting,
wounded a bull, and then went round to a point to cut him off, and sent in
the only man he had to follow up the track and drive the bull on. He
waited for some time and then shouted, but received no answer, for the
poor tracker was dead. He had evidently been charged by the bull when he
was busy tracking it, and was taken by surprise. By a curious coincidence
my manager had dreamed the night before that he had gone out with this
tracker, that he had been killed by a bull, and that the body was found
extended in the position in which it was ultimately found on the following
day.
Close to the place where the man was killed we had a capital illustration
of the need for keeping a good look out when tracking. When out shooting
one evening with a friend, we wounded a solitary bull (which I have reason
to suppose was the same bull that killed the tracker), and on the
following morning took up his track, which led down into a spot in the
forest where, from some trees probably having been blown down in former
years, there was a little thicket of small trees and underwood. Into this
the bull had gone, and we soon found where he had been lying, and were
proceeding to take up the track again, when one of our men, who stood a
little way behind, and luckily, was looking about, said "There's the
bull." He had evidently heard us coming, got up, gone ten yards away, and
was waiting for a favourable moment to charge, and, had he done so when we
were in the thicket, he probably would have killed one of the party. My
friend, who was an old hand, and of course saw the danger at a glance,
cleared out of the thicket with wonderful alertness, and the rest were not
slow to follow his example. We then passed round the upper side of the
thicket, and came down upon the bull in the more open forest, and soon
killed him. Just as we had done so, news came that a herd of bison was
grazing on a ridge about half or three-quarters of a mile or so away, and
as our pursuit of them elucidates some points of practical importance, I
give a short description of the stalk and its accompanying circumstances.
The herd of bison, it appears, were just outside a jungly ravine which ran
up from the main forest through the grass land. The jungle terminated just
below a ridge of hill, along which we approached the spot. Overhanging the
hollow were some rocks which afforded us a convenient place to creep
behind, and presently we lay down there, looking at the herd, which was
below us, and about a hundred yards away. And then we found (as Mr.
Sanderson so often did that he at last gave up attacking herd bison) that
it was impossible to fire at the bull, as he was screened by the cows. How
long we lay watching I cannot exactly tell, but as the day got hotter the
bison began to move, and then we had a chance of firing at the big bull.
The herd, bull included, then entered the jungly ravine, and presently
reappeared a little further down and on the right of the ravine with a
calf which had evidently been left in the ravine, and filed along the
slope. The bull, however, had remained behind. Now comes a point of great
importance in following up big game, and which, curiously enough, has
never been noticed hitherto, at least I have not been able to meet with
any reference to it in the many big game shooting books I have looked at.
If an animal is wounded, it is a common practice to follow it up at once,
the result of which is that it will often go off to a considerable
distance (which is often highly inconvenient) and frequently be lost. But
if, instead of following the startled animal at once, a perfect silence is
maintained, and you remain where you are, the animal, the moment it is
inside the jungle, will stand to listen, and if it can neither hear nor
see anything, will probably lie down to recover from the shock, and if it
does so, will very probably not rise from the spot for a considerable
time. You have thus an opportunity of getting ahead of your quarry and
coming back to the margin of the forest from a direction opposite to that
from which it naturally expects danger, and it will thus have to pass you
again in order to get further into the forest, and you will then, as I
have known from experience, get another shot. On this occasion it was of
great importance to get between the wounded bull and the main forest
towards the foot of the Ghauts, and we accordingly resolved to go down the
grass land on the outside of the jungly ravine, enter it a good way down,
and lie up to rest for some time, and then look up the wounded bull.
And now I received a lesson that I shall never forget. We had taken our
early toast and tea, and had intended returning to breakfast, but we had
been decoyed by the sport so far from home, and the weather was so hot,
that we could not face the task of toiling back in the heat of the sun,
and besides, we had our wounded bull to look up. The prospect of remaining
all day without food was not pleasant, but luckily I had a few small
biscuits in my pocket. Then we were afraid to drink the water, as at that
season it is not considered to be wholesome. "Ah," said my friend, after
fumbling in his pocket, "we are all right. I have got one peppermint
lozenge. We will divide it into four parts, and it will last the day."
This was my first introduction to the great practical value of the
peppermint lozenge in taking away the sensation of thirst, and in hot
climates I now never go without them. But they should be made at a good
chemist's, as the peppermint then has none of that nauseous, or, at any
rate, very disagreeable, smell which accompanies ordinary peppermint
lozenges. They are also very useful in travelling, and in India I always
carry them, as, if kept out longer in the morning than usual, they at once
banish hunger and thirst, and are, besides, very refreshing, and I feel
sure would be invaluable in the case of troops marching in hot weather,
and where good water is not to be had. They are also very useful when
going out after a tiger, and when news of one is brought in my first order
is to put up two peppermint lozenges. Another point of value I may here
mention. Always, if there is a chance of your being kept out late, take a
lantern and matches. We experienced the evil of the neglect of this
precaution when returning home. You may have starlight outside the forest,
but darkness within, and a lantern is, of course, a great aid, and it is
so even when there is moonlight, as you may be either on the wrong side of
a ridge or have to pass through dark bottoms. But now as to the pursuit of
the bull.
After resting for several hours we took our way up the ravine in the
direction of the point at which the bull entered it. And here we made a
cardinal mistake, for we went together, whereas had one of us remained on
the grass land outside, we should almost certainly have got the bull. We,
however, omitted to take this precaution, and proceeded up the ravine to
within about fifty yards of the spot where the bull entered, when up he
got close to us, but without our being able to see him, and went out of
the ravine on to the grass land and down into the main forest beyond, into
which we had neither time, strength, nor inclination to follow him. The
preceding will be a good lesson to any young sportsman, firstly, as to the
value of not following up a wounded animal at once, and, secondly, as to
taking every kind of precaution when you do. How often is sport spoiled
from the want of appreciating the truism that a wall is no stronger than
its weakest point. The importance of carefully guarding and refusing to be
decoyed away from the pass into the main forest is of such consequence
that I proceed to enforce it with another illustration.
One day I found a fine bull grazing on the margin of a piece of detached
jungle some five or six acres in extent; I got between him and the main
forest, to which he would of course fly, fired at him, and he went at once
into the ravine, or rather jungle-clad hollow, in front of him. I then ran
to the only pass from it into the main forest, and told the two people who
were with me to follow on the track of the bull, at which I should thus
have been able to get another shot in the event of his having strength
enough to leave the five or six acres of jungle he had entered. I waited
for a considerable time, and at last went up the hill with the view of
seeing what my people were about, and called out, to be answered by one
man on the top of a hill on the other side, and by another from the top of
a tree, who said that the bison had attacked them, and that one of them
had run out of the jungle and the other up a tree. I called out to the
man on the grass land to go and fetch a dog and some people from the
village, and again returned to my pass, for had the bull once got down
into the main forest-which led to the foot of the Ghauts, we should
probably have lost him. After rather a long interval some natives appeared
with a dog, and I told them to drive the ravine, and soon there ensued a
series of charges, accompanied by the barking of the dog, and a general
state of confusion, from, which it was evident that the bison had lots of
go in him. Still I clung to the pass. At last my patience was worn out,
and I went to look up the bull in the jungle. Horror of horrors! he made
off in the very direction of the pass into the main forest, and had it not
been for the dog we should probably have lost him, but I at once set on
the dog, and this had the desired effect of making the bull turn, when he
came towards us, looking for some one to charge. When he was a few yards
from me I gave him a shot which turned him aside, and as he deflected he
presented a good shot, and was soon killed.
The jumping, or rather bounding power of the bison is wonderful, and I was
accidentally caused to ascertain it in this way. One evening, just at
sundown, I found a bull in a very unexpected place, high up on a mountain,
with very precipitous sides. He was on the edge of a piece of jungly,
swampy land, about half an acre in extent, and when I fired at him he went
into this, and I sent my second gun man round to drive him out. He soon
appeared, took one look at me at a distance of about fifty yards, and then
charged with wonderful suddenness. I was young and active then, and ran
sideways to the only tree--a small one on the open land--but I had just
time to save myself, for the bull, having struck or grazed the tree with
his shoulder, fell at my feet, and as he rose, his horn caught my coat
about the armpit and tore a hole in it. He galloped towards me with his
nose up, but lowered his head as he approached me, evidently to clear me
away. He, of course, was up again in a second, and disappeared over the
crest of the hill. The ground I was standing on sloped only slightly
upward towards the point at which the bison emerged, there being at the
spot a length of about eighty yards of comparatively flat land, which, of
course, accounted for the swampy ground, which, by the way, had been
partly created by the natives having at some remote time formed a small
tank there. Well, the following morning I went to the spot with an English
sporting companion, and said, "This is the place where I was charged."
"But," he said, and so said the natives with him, "there has never been a
bison here at all," and as there had been some rain the day before, the
tracks would, of course, have been plainly visible. As it turned out, we
happened to be standing between the tracks, and on measuring the distance
between them, we found that the bull had covered twenty-one feet from
hind-foot to hind-foot, and that, too, on ground which, as we have seen,
sloped but very slightly.
I cannot conclude this chapter without urging sportsmen to use every means
in their power which can aid in the preservation of these harmless and
interesting animals; and I trust that every effort may be made not only to
obtain a Game Preservation Act for India, but to have a special clause
inserted in it with reference to cow bisons, and the imposition of a heavy
line for killing one of them. Is not the intelligent preservation of game
one of the most prominent signs of advancing civilization?
FOOTNOTES:
[24] In Jerdon's "Mammals of India," Roorkee, 1867, p. 304, however, I
find that it is stated that the bison do ravage the fields of the ryots,
but Mr. Sanderson has no mention of their doing so, and he had the best
opportunities for observation.
CHAPTER VII.
GOLD.
Gold mines are as uncertain as women, and yet from either it seems
impossible to keep away. Perhaps it is this very uncertainty which
constitutes the chief charm of both. But, however that may be, it is
certain that about gold in general, whether visible or prospective, there
is such a degree of attractiveness that, as the Kanarese proverb puts it,
if gold is to be seen even a corpse will open its mouth; and I feel sure
as I write, that in this chapter at least I can count not only on
attention, but on a general attitude of expectancy in the mind of the
reader. And from one point of view he will be fairly satisfied, for the
history of gold mining in Mysore has quite a romantic cast, and in the
hands of a skilful novelist, there might be extracted from it much
literary capital. The foremost fact indeed which I have to give has almost
a sensational flavour, and at first sight seems a mere dream. We often
read of fields of golden grain, but that corn should ever, by any process
of nature, have on its ears grains of gold, seems beyond belief. And yet
the fact of grains of gold being found on the ears of the rice plants is
probably the very earliest tradition connected with gold, and it is not
improbable that the circumstance may have been one of the means of calling
attention to the existence of gold in Mysore. An account of this tradition
is to be found in the "Selections from the Records of the Mysore
Government,"[25] and from them it appears that Lieutenant John Warren,
when he was employed in surveying the eastern boundary of Mysore in 1800,
was told by a Brahman that "In prosperous years when the gods favoured the
Zillah of Kadogi (a small village on the west bank of the Pennar river,
Hoskote Talook, 15 miles from Bangalore) with an ample harvest now and
then grains of gold were found on the ears of the paddy (rice plants)
grown under the tank lying close to the north of that village." And in
this connection I may mention that, when visiting the Kolar mines last
January, I found, in the course of a conversation with the head man of the
village of Ooregum, that he was aware of this tradition, and that grains
of gold were said to have been seen on the rice plants at a village about
fifteen miles distant from his own. The explanation of this is extremely
simple, as the rice plants are usually grown in nurseries and transplanted
in bunches of several plants, after which the fields are flooded, and in
heavy floods (and this accounts for the gold having been found in the
years which are prosperous from the abundant rain) the plants would often
be quite submerged. With the water no doubt came grains of gold, which
were deposited on the rice plants, and as these grew, the grains of gold
would naturally rise with them, and thus often be found adhering to the
roughly-coated grain.
After the attention of Lieutenant Warren was called to the subject, he
seems to have taken some trouble in investigating it, and having heard a
vague report that gold had been found in the earth somewhere near a small
hill about nine miles east of Budiakote, offered a reward for information
regarding this, and shortly afterwards a ryot of the village offered to
show him the place, which was close to his village. He visited the spot
in question on February 17th, 1802, "when the women of the village were
assembled, and, each being provided with a small broom and vaning basket,
and hollow board to receive the earth, they went to a jungle on the west
of the village. Here they entered some small nullahs, or rather breaks in
the ground, and removing the gravel with their hands, they swept the earth
underneath into their vaning baskets, by the help of which they further
cleared it of the smaller stones and threw it into the hollow board above
mentioned. Having thus got enough earth together, they adjourned to a tank
and placed the hollow boards containing the earth in the water, but just
deep enough for it to overflow when resting on the ground, and no more.
Then they stirred the earth with the hand, but keeping it over the centre
of the board, so that the metal should fall into the depression by its own
weight, and the earth wash over the edges. After a few minutes' stirring,
they put the metallic matter thus freed of earth into a piece of broken
pot, but only after examining it for gold, which they did by inclining the
board and passing water over the metallic sediment which adhered to it.
They thus drove the light particles before the water, leaving the heavier
metal behind just at the edge where it could easily be seen, however small
the quantity." Lieutenant Warren, having afterwards heard that gold was
extracted from mines near Marikoppa, three miles from Ooregum, visited
four of the mines, the descent into which was made by means of small foot
holes which had been made in their sides. The first was two feet in
breadth and four in length with a depth of about thirty feet, and in
distance fifty feet (of galleries I presume), the others were from thirty
to forty-five feet deep. "The miners extracted the stones (how we are not
informed) and they were passed from hand to hand in baskets by the miners
who were stationed at different points for the purpose of banking the
stones. The women then took them to a large rock, and pounded them to
dust. The latter was then taken to a well and washed by the same process
as that used when washing the earth for gold, when about an equal quantity
of gold was found to that procured from an equal quantity of the
auriferous earth."
The only people, writes Lieutenant Warren, who devote their time to
searching-for gold are Pariahs, who work as follows. "When they resolve on
sinking a mine, they assemble to the number of ten or twelve from
different villages. Then they elect a Daffadar, or head man, to
superintend the work, and sell the gold, and they subscribe money to buy
lamp oil, and the necessary iron tools, then partly from knowledge of the
ground, and partly from the idea they have, that the tract over which a
peacock has been observed to fly and alight, is that of a vein of gold,
they fix on a spot and begin to mine."
Such, then, was the condition of gold mining in Mysore about the end of
the last and the beginning of this century, but in ancient times mining
was carried on by the natives to very considerable depths, and I am
informed by Mr. B. D. Plummer, who has had ten years' experience of mines
at Kolar, and worked the Mysore and Nundydroog mines, that the old native
workings went down to a depth of about 260 feet. These, which were all
choked up, were followed down to the bottom, and valuable lodes were found
at about 150 to 260 feet. Nothing was found in the old native workings,
but remains of old chatties (earthenware pots) and the wooden props put in
to secure the sides. The native workings, in the opinion of Captain
Plummer, were evidently carried on with skill and efficiency, and appear
to be of great antiquity. Large quantities of water were found, requiring
pumping machinery working day and night for its removal. How the natives
in olden times got rid of the water is not known. It is supposed that
they must have done so by chatties, and by hand, with the aid of large
numbers of people. As no native iron tools[26] were found in the cases of
the two above-mentioned mines, it is evident that they were deliberately
abandoned, either from excess of water in them, or some unknown cause. As
the lodes they worked at the depths they reached were rich, it is probable
that the miners could no longer contend with the difficulty of removing
the large quantities of water. I am informed by Mr. Plummer that the main
lodes where the natives have formerly worked have, in nearly every case,
proved successful. Mr. Plummer has examined other districts in the
province, extending more than 100 miles north of Mysore city, and thinks
that there is a very large mining future for the Mysore country. I am
informed by one of the mine managers that from the quantity of charcoal
found in the old native workings, it is probable that the natives first of
all burnt the rock so as to make it the more easy of extraction, just as
they now burn granite rock in order the more easily to split off the
stone.
As the facts connected with these mines were brought very fully to the
notice of the Government at such an early date, it at first sight seems
strange that we have to skip over a period of about seventy years till we
again meet, in the "Selections" previously quoted from, any further notice
of the mines; but the neglect of them was evidently owing to the similar
neglect of coffee and other industries, which might have been pushed
forward at a much earlier date, and most certainly would have been, had
the Government taken pains to see that the information so frequently
obtained was published in an available and readable form, instead of being
buried in the various offices of the State. That more efforts were not
made in this direction was probably owing to the fact that the Government
officers did not perceive the widespread effect that the introduction of
European capital would have on the agriculture of the country, and,
consequently, on the finances of the State--a subject referred to in my
introductory chapter, and to which I shall again allude in the chapter on
Coorg--while they were under the erroneous impression that Europeans would
probably be a cause of annoyance to the Government and the people. We find
a characteristic survival of the last idea in the "Selections," and in
Clause X. of the conditions under which, in 1873, the first leave to mine
was granted by the Government of Mysore, it is declared that, "In the
event of the grantee causing annoyance or obstruction to any class of the
people, or to the officers of Government, the chief commissioner reserves
the power of annulling the mining right thus granted." But such
apprehensions, I need hardly say, have long since passed away, and
certainly within my long experience they never existed in Southern India
in the case of the planters who, as a body, have always been encouraged by
the State, and have always got on well with it and the people, though, of
course, as in all countries, there are occasionally individuals who cannot
bring themselves into harmony with any person, or condition of things.
And now, before proceeding with my narrative of gold mining in Mysore, I
pause for one moment to note the rather remarkable fact that it seems
impossible to find in old records or inscriptions any reference to gold
mining in Mysore.[27] As to this I have made diligent inquiry, from the
librarian of H. H. the Maharajah, from a member of the Archaeological
Survey of Mysore, and in every quarter that occurred to me. I was informed
by a European resident at Bangalore that, at the Eurasian settlement near
that city, there is a stone pillar with an inscription said by tradition
to relate to gold mining, but I can hardly suppose it possible that this
could have escaped the notice of the officers of the Archaeological Survey.
One of the officers of this department informed me that, in consequence of
the absence of traditions regarding gold mining, he inferred that mining
in Mysore must have been carried on from very remote times. But it is time
to proceed with the history of mining in Mysore.
It appears, then, from the "Selections," that a Mr. Lavelle on the 20th of
August, 1873, applied for the right to carry on mining operations in
Kolar. Two years previously he had examined portions of the Kolar district
(without any grant it would seem, from no mention of one being made), and
found three auriferous strata, in one of which he sunk a shaft to the
depth of eighteen feet, and found gold increase in quality and size as he
went downwards. In the event of a mining right being granted he proposed
to begin work again in November. After some correspondence came a letter
from the chief commissioner, dated September 16th, 1874, submitting
conditions (which must be regarded as final) as the basis of an agreement
(to be afterwards legally drawn up) to be entered into between the
Government and Mr. Lavelle. It is unnecessary to recapitulate all the
conditions; suffice it to say that the right to mine in Kolar was to
extend over twenty years, and that a royalty of ten per cent. on all
metals and metallic ores, and of twenty per cent. on all precious stones,
was to be paid. On September 20th, 1874, Mr. Lavelle accepted the terms,
but what he did or did not do as regards mining does not appear in the
"Selections," and I find it merely stated therein that on March 28th,
1876, leave was given him to transfer his rights to other parties. It,
however, appears from a statement made by Mr. Lavelle in 1885 to the
special correspondent of the "Madras Mail,"[28] that a small syndicate was
formed, and some work carried on in the native style, though little
success seems to have been met with, and the work was abandoned. About a
year afterwards it was again recommenced by Mr. Lavelle, who in the
meanwhile had been prospecting in other parts of Southern India, and he
succeeded in once more attracting attention to the Kolar field, and
subsequently various companies were formed, but so disappointing were the
results obtained that all were practically closed in 1882, except the
Mysore mine, which was working to a small extent. In February, 1883, the
Nundydroog mine was ordered to be closed, and almost every other mine was
in a state of collapse. Caretakers were put in and only a little work
done. Early in 1884, when only twelve or thirteen thousand pounds of their
capital were left, the Mysore shareholders were convened. Some were for
closing at once and dividing the remaining capital, but, acting on the
advise of Messrs. John Taylor and Sons, of 6, Queen Street Place, London,
it was, fortunately for the province of Mysore, determined to spend it on
the mine. The shares were then as low as tenpence. The company began to
get gold about the end of 1884, and the prospect improved so much that the
Nundydroog mine in May, 1885, was enabled to raise money on debentures,
and so to again carry on work. If the shareholders of the Mysore company
had not persevered, it is almost absolutely certain that the whole of the
Kolar gold field would have been permanently abandoned. This is just one
of those cases which cheer the sinking hopes of shareholders, and attract
vast sums of money to gold mines; and no wonder, when we find the chairman
of the Mysore company apologizing lately because he could not declare a
dividend of more than fifty per cent.; that up to the end of 1892 the gold
sold by the company realized L1,149,430 2s. 1d., and that the total sum
paid in dividends amounted to L602,156 10s. 6d.
The Mysore mine had been sunk to a depth of about 200 feet when it was
proposed that the project should be abandoned. Just below this depth the
miners struck the Champion lode on which the Mysore, Ooregum, Nundydroog,
Balaghaut, and Indian Consolidated Companies are working. The Mysore mine
has now been sunk to a depth of over 1,200 feet, Ooregum 850 feet, and
Nundydroog over 860 feet. The lode is not richer per ton, as is commonly
supposed, on greater depths being reached. The yield per ton is probably
about the same, though from larger quantities being taken out, and the use
of the rock drill, which causes a large extraction of country rock, the
product per ton of quartz is apparently smaller. The specimens now found
are as good as ever.
The circumstances of the Champion lode are briefly these. In the interior
of a surrounding of granite there is a great basin of hornblende rock of
schistose character, and through this, at an angle of about forty-five
degrees, runs the lode. This is not of continuous thickness. In some
places it is four or five feet wide, in others runs down to an almost
vanishing point, and then again thickens. In the case of the mines now
working on this lode, the basin of hornblende is more than two miles in
width, and is possibly many thousands of feet in depth, so there seems to
be a reasonable prospect of there being a long future before the workers
on the Champion lode.
The Kolar gold field is about seven miles in length, and averages about
two to three miles in width. There are in all fourteen mines, but two of
them are practically stopped. The general appearance of it is at present
by no means attractive, as the land is rocky and sterile, and unfavourable
to the growth of trees, but, from the appearance of some of the Baubul
trees, I feel sure that if large pits for the trees were dug, and filled
with soil from the low-lying ground, a great deal might be done to
beautify the field, by planting here and there groups of Baubul and other
hardy trees indigenous to the locality. As I thought it would be
interesting, and perhaps useful, to give some idea of life on the fields,
I asked one of the ladies resident there to supply me with some notes for
publication, and her observations on the situation from a social and
general point of view are as follows.
"You ask me for some notes on the field, and I may begin by telling you
that we usually rise about half-past six, when the menkind go off to their
offices, or underground, as the ease may be. We have tiffin between twelve
and one, and dinner at half-past seven. Breakfast is generally at about
eight, and the managers commonly have theirs sent down to the office.
"In the afternoon, that is to say, when the five o'clock whistle blows, we
play tennis, or else go down to the Gymkana ground to watch the cricket.
Sometimes there is a gymkana in which we all take great interest,
particularly in those races called ladies' events, when the winners
present their prizes to the ladies who have nominated them. The great
drawback to the gold fields at present is the absence of some general
meeting-place or club, but it is hoped that by next year this want will
be supplied, as the Ooregum, Nundydroog, and Champion Reefs Companies have
combined to build a hall, which is to contain a billiard-room, card-room,
library, etc., and there is to be a tennis court in the compound.
"One of the great pleasures is gardening. The plants that grow best are
jalaps, sunflowers, roses, cornflowers, nasturtiums, verbenas, and
geraniums, all of which, with the exception of the two first-named plants,
require water constantly. The creepers that grow best are passion-flowers,
and a small kind of green creeper with convolvulus flowers, the name of
which I do not know. Honeysuckle also grows, though but slowly. Trees have
recently been planted in the various compounds, and also along some parts
of the road leading to the bungalows, but owing to the shallowness of the
soil, and the roots so soon reaching the rock, they seldom grow to any
size. Some casuarinas in the Mysore mine camp have grown to about twenty
feet in height, but these have now struck the rock, and most of them are
dying.
"We have occasional visitors, many of them being shareholders in the
various mines, bringing with them introductions from England, and wishing
to inspect all the works, stamps, etc., on the surface, and very often
going underground. Several ladies have been taken down the mines lately,
but they do not seem to care for it much, for though of course it is
interesting, still the fatigue of going down so many feet on ladders is
great. The mines, too, in many parts are dirty and wet, and amongst other
disagreeables are the cockroaches, which are enormous, and the stinging
ants. Ladies too, I find, are as a rule disappointed at not seeing more
'visible gold.' I believe they cherish generally some idea of picking up a
nice little nugget to keep as a souvenir of their expedition.
"None of the mines have any 'cages,' as they are called, so if one does
not want to go down by the ladders, one can only go in the box in which
the quartz comes up, and as this is only two feet square and four feet
deep, the journey by it would be decidedly uncomfortable. At every eighty
feet, I may mention, you come to a small wooden platform (or level) where
you can rest, and from which branch off the cross cuts and drives, or
narrow passages. The depths of the different mines vary a great deal,
Mysore being as low as 1,400 feet, the greatest depth sunk at present,
while the least depth sunk is about 300 feet. Ladies going underground
have to wear suitable attire. Skirts would be quite useless. A long coat,
or short skirt reaching to the knees, and knickerbockers, is the most
comfortable dress for the occasion. Very strong boots should be worn.
"Many of the miners and people employed in the gold fields have joined the
Volunteers. There is now quite a strong corps of about 100 men, some being
Eurasians, but the majority are either English or Italians. Once a year
some 'bigwig' comes from Bangalore to review them. There is a
sergeant-instructor on the field, and the adjutant comes very frequently
to see them drill, etc.
"Round the various large tanks about six or eight miles away from the
mines excellent snipe shooting is to be had, and duck and teal are also to
be found. Spotted deer and bears are sometimes shot by sportsmen from the
mines, but for those one must go further away. The fishing is not
considered to be very good, but perhaps those who fish do not know how to
set to work. The natives sometimes bring very large tank fish round for
sale.
"Driving and riding are not very enjoyable, owing to the terribly bad
state of the roads. When the railway to the mines is opened, which it soon
will be, I am happy to say, the roads will be better. At present the heavy
machinery for the mines, boilers, etc.--sometimes taking sixty bullocks
to draw them--cut up the roads dreadfully. These will of course come by
rail directly the line is open for traffic. The supplies, vegetables,
fruit, etc., come from Bangalore three times a week, each mine keeping a
'Supply boy' (servant), who goes in from Kolar Road (our railway station,
seven miles from the mines), and returns the following day. We get mutton
and beef from the local butcher, and also good bread from the bakery on
the field. Our butter comes from Bangalore, and from there we obtain,
peas, potatoes, French beans, tomatoes, cauliflowers, vegetable marrow,
and lettuces, and also fruit, such as apples, peaches, grapes, plantains,
custard apples, melons, and sometimes pine-apples. Servants on the whole
are good. Most of them come from Madras. Wages are much higher on the gold
fields than in Bangalore--head butlers, 16 rupees; ayahs, 12 to 14 rupees;
chokras, 10 to 11 rupees; cooks, 11 to 14 rupees; and gardeners, 10 to 16
rupees a month. Many of them leave domestic service and take work in the
mines, where they get higher wages very often."
As the elevation of Kolar is about 2,700 feet above sea level, the climate
is for many months of the year extremely agreeable, and it would, so far
as my experience goes, be difficult to find a more exhilarating and more
exquisitely-tempered atmosphere than that of Kolar in the month of
January--at least such was my conclusion when I stayed with my friends at
the field last January. Nor did I hear anyone there complain of the
climate, which, from the appearance of my host (who looked as if he had
never left England) and others on the mines, must be a very healthy one,
and in proof of this I may mention that Mr. Plummer, whom I have
previously quoted, told me that the European miners had as good health as
miners have in England. Cholera has on several occasions broken out
amongst the coolies, but this was rather a proof of the want of attention
paid to sanitation and water supply, as none I believe has occurred since
an improved water supply has been introduced by all the companies now
pumping it up from depths of 200 feet from the bottoms of abandoned
shafts. There was a remarkable confirmation of the connection between
cholera and water supply and sanitation one year, and the first company
which paid attention to these points had no cholera amongst its people,
while most of the other mines had more or less of the disease. I may
mention here a fact to which I have alluded in my chapter on coffee
planting in Mysore--namely, that Europeans in Mysore have been so little
liable to cholera that in sixty years there has only been one death from
it amongst the European officials of the province, and one doubtful case
amongst the planters.
As regards mining and the extraction of gold, there is little to be said.
I inspected the works and the rock drills. These work through the agency
of compressed air, and at a cost of 15 rupees a day for coal for each
drill, the same tool which is used in drilling by hand. It is doubtful
whether hand-drilling is not cheaper, but the latter is far slower, and
hence does not pay as well, rapid progress being absolutely essential.
When working with rock drills, a shaft can be sunk 10 to 20 feet a month,
against 7 to 8 feet by hand, and a level may on the average be driven 45
to 50 feet a month by rock drills against 10 or 12 feet by hand. When,
however, a large surface for operating on is exposed, hand-drilling may be
profitably employed. This is interesting as illustrating the fact that
where labour is cheap machines seldom pay, and this is particularly worth
mentioning for the benefit of those who have thought that it would be
useful to introduce agricultural machinery into India. After looking at
the rock drills I inspected the gold extraction works. The processes here
need not detain us long. The quartz is first broken by stone-breakers
like those used in England. The broken stone is then placed in an iron
trough (battery box), and is pounded by iron stampers, which of course are
worked by machinery. In front of this trough is a fine sieve. Water is
incessantly run into the trough, and as it overflows, carries with it all
the quartz which has been pounded sufficiently to pass through the sieve.
The water, mingled with this finely powdered quartz, then falls on to a
sloping plate of copper coated with quicksilver, which amalgamates with,
and so detains, the gold. The deposit thus formed is scraped off the
sheets of copper at intervals of about eight hours, and formed into balls
of various sizes, which consist of about one-half gold and one-half
quicksilver. The latter is subsequently separated from the gold by
processes which I need not describe, and the gold is afterwards formed
into bars for export.
I inquired particularly as to the rates of wages. These are, for coolies
working underground, from 7 to 8 annas a day (with the rupee at par one
anna is equal to 1-1/2d., and 8 annas would therefore amount to 1s.).
Those who work rock drills in mines, 12 annas to a rupee a day; ordinary
coolies working aboveground, 4 to 8 annas; and women, 2 to 4 annas a day.
The working population on the field numbers about 10,000, while 20,000
more, who work for varying periods of the year, reside in the neighbouring
villages.
I was much struck with the fact that no advances whatever are given to
coolies by the companies, as is the case with men working on plantations,
and I would particularly call the attention of planters to this, as it
proves what I have elsewhere stated--namely, that where labour rises to a
comparatively high rate no advances are necessary, and I feel sure that if
planters would resolve to reduce gradually the amount of advances, they
might ultimately be altogether dispensed with.
My next subject of inquiry relating to labour was as to the probable total
amount paid for it, and, from an estimate made for me by a very competent
authority residing on the mines, I believe that the following account is
substantially correct. The amount of wages paid monthly to native
labourers and the small number of Eurasians working on the mines is about
2 lakhs of rupees. To natives who fell and bring in timber for fuel about
80,000 rupees monthly are paid. On quarrying and carting granite, and in
building, about 30,000 rupees a month are spent; on the carriage of
materials from the railway about 15,000 rupees, and probably from 5,000 to
10,000 rupees on local products such as straw, grain, oil, mats, bamboos,
tiles, etc. Now, if we take no account of the last two items, and deduct
10,000 rupees from the second and third, we shall have a fair estimate of
three lakhs of rupees a month as the amount spent on the Kolar gold field
in wages, which, taking the rupee at par (and I think I am justified in
doing so, as for expenditure in India by labourers it goes about as far as
it ever did), amounts to L360,000 a year. And this great sum is earned by
people who either have land and work for occasional periods of the year on
the mines, or by labourers, who, when they have saved enough money from
their wages (which they could do with ease in a year), will acquire and
cultivate a small holding. A large proportion of this sum of L360,000 a
year--probably two-thirds of it--goes to improving the status and
condition of the agricultural and labouring classes, and I need hardly add
that this not only leads to an improvement of the resources of the State,
but enables the people the better to contend with famine and times of
scarcity, and thus still further improves the financial condition of the
Government. And it is largely in consequence of the great sums brought
into Mysore by the planters and the gold companies that the revenues of
Mysore are in such a nourishing condition, and that year after year the
annual budget presents an appearance more and more favourable.
And here this question naturally arises. What can the Government of Mysore
do to stimulate the employment of labour in mining, and thus still further
strengthen the financial position of the State? I am prepared to show that
it can do much to stimulate the opening of new mines, and also to
encourage many of those now in existence which have not as yet been able
to pay dividends.
The reader will see by a glance at the map that the auriferous tracts of
Mysore (to which I shall presently more particularly allude) are of great
extent, and, judging from the report of the geological surveyor employed
by the Government, and especially from the existence of numerous old
native workings, there is no reason why prizes even greater than the best
of those already obtained should not exist. Now one of the greatest
obstacles in the way of rapid progress lies in the fact that before mining
can be got fairly under weigh much preliminary work has to be done, and
the shareholders have therefore a long time to wait before any paying
return can be obtained. But if the preliminary work, such as the providing
of water, the collection of building materials, and the making of roads,
etc., were carried out before a company was formed, mining could be begun
at once, and results rapidly arrived at, and the frittering away of money,
both in England and India, that at present necessarily occurs, would be
averted. Now the country has already been largely explored, and the
Government is therefore in a position to know the places where favourable
results will probably be obtained, and as the State, besides the other
advantages I have previously pointed out, gets a royalty on the gold, it
has a natural interest in doing its utmost to select the most favourable
sites for new mining operations. Such sites then should, with the aid of
experienced mining advisers, be selected by the Government, which itself
should execute the preliminary works previously specified, and then
advertise the blocks, so selected and prepared, for sale in the London
market. For such prepared blocks purchasers could readily be found, and if
the price they paid merely covered the bare cost of the preliminary works,
the expenditure of capital that would thus be stimulated, with all its
consequent direct and indirect advantages to the province, would amply
repay the Government for its trouble and outlay.
But the State may give yet another stimulus to mining, which, I feel sure,
would prove of great advantage to the State. The present royalty is five
per cent. on the value of the gold produced, and from this source the
Government last year received 5 lakhs and 18,000 rupees. Now the
prosperous companies which are paying good dividends do not feel this to
be a very serious burden, but it is a serious burden--every shilling of
expenditure indeed is--to a company which has not begun to pay dividends,
and I would suggest that, till a company is able to pay dividends,
one-half of the royalty, or, better still, the whole of it, might be
remitted. This sum would by no means be lost to the State, for does not
the milk that is left in the cow go to the calf?
The measures I have proposed would be of such obvious advantage to the
State that, were I a shareholder, or intending investor, in mines in
Mysore, I should have no hesitation in suggesting their adoption, but it
may be as well to mention that I am neither.
I drove one afternoon with my host to the court on the field, and had some
conversation with the magistrate regarding thefts at the mines, and it
certainly appears that a special Act is required to check the stealing of
gold. Sponge-gold (i.e., gold from which the quicksilver has been
evaporated), quartz, or gold amalgam, if found in the possession of any
person, renders the individual liable to prosecution, if the possession of
gold in any of these forms cannot be satisfactorily accounted for. But the
individual cannot be called to account for having ordinary pure gold in
possession. Now in a man's possession at the mines there has been found
all the means of separating the gold by quicksilver, and it is therefore
quite clear that gold stolen in either of the first three mentioned forms
may, after having been deprived of its concomitant impurities, be held by
an individual to any amount, and even by a workman earning 6d. a day,
without his being liable to be called upon to account for its possession.
Some Act to meet this kind of case is then clearly required--an Act
similar to our Mysore Coffee-stealing Prevention Act, which provides that
any person not a planter is liable to be called upon to account for coffee
in his possession.
A difficult point occurs where quartz is found in a hut occupied by
several people, as it is impossible to charge any one person with being in
illegal possession of the article. There are numerous evidences of gold
stealing, and certainly some summary process ought to be established with
the view of checking these thefts. I may add that the Government is much
interested in this matter, as five per cent. of the gold belongs to it,
and is handed over in the shape of royalty. Those who are most concerned
should bring the matter annually before the members of the Representative
Assembly. Even in England remedies for, or mitigations of, evils are not
provided without much continuous parliamentary hammering.
After discussing the subject of gold stealing with the magistrate, I
called on the manager of the Mysore mine, and afterwards went with my host
to a lawn tennis party at the house of the doctor of the mines, who is
employed by the various companies. He has a comfortable bungalow, which
is at a considerable elevation above the level of the valley, and commands
an extensive view of the surrounding country and of the distant hills.
Above the house, and at some little distance on one side of it, stands the
hospital, and on a knoll just below, the building of the new Roman
Catholic church was in progress, and the walls were nearly finished. From
the doctor's bungalow a good general view of the whole field can be
obtained, and I was particularly struck with the number of buildings to be
seen in all directions. I was told that from this point as many as thirty
tall chimneys can be counted.
There is a great want of water in the field, for purposes connected with
the separation of the gold from the quartz, and tanks are being provided
to store it. I venture to suggest that a considerable distance of the
catchment area on the sides, and especially at the back, of the tanks
should be honeycombed with pits, as the water, which is often largely lost
from falling in heavy deluges, would thus percolate into the ground, and
so find its way into the bed of the tank by degrees. I may mention that a
great effect has been produced in the case of a tank on one of my coffee
estates by thus digging pits to catch water that would otherwise run
directly down into the tank, to be largely lost by the overflow during
heavy rains, and a similar effect has been produced on the property of a
neighbour. In fact, the effect produced by such pits on the supply of
water in tanks is far greater than one could have imagined to be possible,
and I may therefore, in passing, call particular attention to the
advisability of such pits being made near tanks used for agricultural
purposes. On the margins of the tanks, and in parts of the bed where
sufficient soil exists, trees should be planted, with the view of
diminishing evaporation from the surface of the water.
When the railway is completed, soil might easily be brought into the
field oil trucks, and the pits dug for trees should be filled with it. The
planting of trees in and around the field would certainly be beneficial in
many obvious ways, and would improve the climate and probably affect, not
perhaps the amount, but the distribution of the rainfall. I would suggest
that if earth closets were used by the people, and the used earth spread
around the trees, there would be a great improvement in their growth. This
would at once improve the sanitation of the field and beautify it at the
same time.
The reader has now probably learned enough of this rising settlement,[29]
and I have only to add that on the day following I returned to Bangalore,
after having had a most pleasant and interesting time of it with my
friends on the Kolar field.
I next pass to a brief mention of the other auriferous tracts in Mysore,
which were surveyed in 1887 by Mr. R. Bruce Foote, Superintendent of the
Geological Survey of India, who, in connection with his investigations
between February 2nd and May 7th of that year, travelled no less than
1,300 miles in Mysore in marching and field work. A full report of his
work appears in the "Selections,"[30] and this is accompanied by a map in
which Mr. Foote has sketched out the distribution of the auriferous rocks.
In the "Selections" alluded to there, is also a "Report on the Auriferous
Tracts in Mysore," by Mr. M. F. Lavelle, and "Notes on the Occurrence of
Gold and other Minerals in Mysore," by Mr. Walter Marsh, Mining Engineer.
But in the brief remarks I have to make I shall confine my attention to
Mr. Foote's Report.
Mr. Foote informs us that the chief gold-yielding rocks of Southern India
belong to one great geological system, to which, from the rocks forming it
occurring very largely in the Dharwar country, he two years previously
gave the name of the Dharwar System, as he saw the necessity of separating
them from the great Gneissic System, with which they had formerly been
grouped. In his long tour in Mysore he found that every important
auriferous tract visited lies within one or other of the areas of the
Dharwar rocks, or forms an outlying patch of the same. These Dharwar
rocks, it appears, are the auriferous series in Mysore, the ceded
districts, and the Southern Maharatta country.
Mr. Foote groups the auriferous rock series of Mysore into four
groups--the central, west-central, western, and the eastern--the last
group being formed by the Kolar gold field, which was not included in the
tracts Mr. Foote was called upon to visit. He then gives a systematic
account of his examination of the country, beginning with the central, and
ending with the western group.
He examined ten auriferous tracts or localities in the central group,
beginning with the Holgen workings near the southern border of the
province, and ending with the Hale Kalgudda locality near the northern
border, and reports more or less favourably on five out of the ten
localities in question. For brevity I use the numbers into which he has
divided the localities he regards as more or less promising. Of part of
number three, he says that his examination, though but a cursory one, led
him to regard it "very favourably," and of another part, he says that the
whole outline indicated, which is seven miles long by about a mile wide,
is deserving of very close examination, and the reefs of being prospected
to some depth. As regards number five, he reports the existence of old
native workings occupying a considerable area, and which showed evidence
of much work being done. Fine reefs are to be seen pretty numerously, and
he desires to draw attention to this promising tract. With reference to
number eight, he says that "taking all things into consideration this
tract is one of the most promising I have seen." Of number nine he says,
"with regard to this gold-yielding locality, it is one of very great
promise and worthy of all attention from mining capitalists," and as
regards number ten, he reports that, though not so favourable as the two
numbers previously mentioned, it is yet deserving of the closest
investigation.
The west-central group was examined by Mr. Foote in the same order,
i.e., from south to north, and he tells us that the auriferous
localities in this group occur all in small detached strips or patches of
schistose rock scattered over the older gneissic series. They are really,
he says, remnants of the once apparently continuous spread of schistose
(Dharwar) rocks which covered great part of the southern half of the
Peninsula. Mr. Foote examined in all fifteen localities, and they do not,
from his account, seem to present appearances as favourable as those of
the central group, and he only recommends that attention should be paid to
six of them. As regards the first locality mentioned, he says that, though
the results from washings and other indications were not very favourable,
the field was deserving of further close prospecting, as the nature of the
country is favourable. Of locality number five, he says that it contains a
considerable number of large and well defined reefs, to which a great
amount of attention has been paid by the old native miners, and thinks
that they are deserving of the closest attention at the present time by
deep prospecting on an ample scale. Of number seven he finds it impossible
to form any positive opinion, though he adds that the size of the old
workings show that the old miners found the place worth their attention
for a long period. He advises that number eleven should be prospected and
tested. Locality thirteen he considers to deserve close prospecting, and
he makes much the same remark as to number fourteen.
The western group, Mr. Foote tells us, is far poorer in auriferous
localities than either of the others, and they are scattered widely apart.
He examined in all seven localities. Of the first locality examined, he
says that the geological features are all favourable to the occurrence of
gold, and that the locality is worthy of very careful prospecting. In
locality number two, such a good show of coarse grained gold was got from
the sands of a stream that he thought a portion of the land from which its
water came ought to be closely tested in order to trace the source of the
gold found in the stream. When writing on locality number three, Mr. Foote
observes that the elevated tract of the auriferous rocks of which the
Bababudan mountains form the centre is one well deserving great attention
both from the geologist and the mining prospector, it being an area of
great disturbance, the rocks being greatly contorted on a large scale and,
the north and south sides at least of the area, much cut up by great
faults. The whole of the auriferous areas here, he says, are deserving of
close survey, for even the best of them are very imperfectly known, and
much of what was known to the old miners in former generations has been
forgotten. "From the fact," writes Mr. Foote, "that in my hurried tour I
came upon no less than five sets of old workings that had not been brought
under the notice of Messrs. Lavelle and Marsh (reports of whose
investigations are given in the "Selections"), I quite expect to hear that
many other old abandoned workings exist in wild and jungly tracts which
bound in the hilly and mountainous parts of the country." In locality
number five such fine shows of gold were obtained, and there was such a
good looking old mine, and quartz reefs of great size, that Mr. Foote
considered the place deserving of "very marked attention from earnest
prospectors."
It is evident, from what Mr. Foote has said, that there is much to be done
in the way of exploring and testing the Mysore province for gold, and I
hope that what I have written may be the means of attracting further
attention to the subject.
At the close of his report Mr. Foote mentions the fact that "a great dyke
of beautiful porphyry traverses the hills east of the Karigatta temple
overlooking Seringapatam. The porphyry, which is of warm brown or
chocolate colour, includes many crystals of lighter coloured felspar, and
dark crystals of hornblende. The stone would take a very high polish, and
for decorative purposes of high class, such as vases, panels and bases for
busts and tazzas, etc., it is unequalled in South India, and deserving of
all attention. If well polished it fully equals many of the highly prized
antique porphyries. The dyke is of great thickness and runs for fully a
mile, so is practically inexhaustible. Blocks of very large size could be
raised, and from the situation of the dyke on the side of two steep hills,
it would be very easy to open up large quarries if needful." As this dyke
is close to a railway it may be worthy of the attention of capitalists.
FOOTNOTES:
[25] Printed for the use of the Government, and kindly lent to me by the
Dewan of Mysore.
[26] Mr. Bosworth-Smith, _vide_ p. 36 of his Report, says that, up to
1889, only three finds of iron tools had been met with in the old native
workings.
[27] In Mr. Hyde Clarke's paper entitled "Gold in India," London,
Effingham Wilson, Royal Exchange, 1881, it is stated that "Dr. Burnell
brings direct proof as to the abundance of gold, by his successful
decipherment of a remarkable inscription in the Tanjore temple. Dr.
Burnell is thus enabled to state that in the eleventh century gold was
still the most common precious metal in India, and stupendous quantities
of it are mentioned. He considers, too, that this gold was obtained from
mines, and that the Moslem invasion interrupted their workings." It does
not, however, appear, at least in Mr. Hyde Clarke's paper, that the
inscription deciphered by Dr. Burnell makes any reference to gold mining.
[28] "The Kolar Gold Field in the State of Mysore." Reprinted from the
"Madras Mail," December, 1885; Madras, the Madras Mail Press. London,
Messrs. H. S. King and Co., 1885.
[29] Those who desire detailed information are referred to Mr. P.
Bosworth-Smith's "Report on the Kolar Gold Field and its Southern
Extension." Madras, Government Press, 1889. Mr. Bosworth-Smith writes as
Government Mineralogist to the Madras Presidency.
[30] "Selections from the Records of the Mysore Government. Reports on
Auriferous Tracts in Mysore." Bangalore. Printed at the Mysore Government
Press, 1887.
CHAPTER VIII.
CASTE.
In Krilof's fable of "The Peasant and the Horse," the latter murmurs at
the way his master throws oats broad-cast on the soil. "How much better,"
argues the horse, "it would have been to have kept them in his granary, or
even to have given them to me to eat!" But the oats grow, and in due time
are garnered, and from them the same horse is fed the year following. The
horse, as we have seen, was unable to comprehend the working and the
meaning of his master's acts; and, in the same way, we often see that man
equally fails to comprehend the nature and effect of things around him.
And thus it is, and for long has been, as regards the institution I am now
about to consider. People in general have ignorantly murmured at the
institution of caste; and, having ever looked at it with highly-civilized
spectacles, and having seen especially a number of the inconveniences it
has caused to the educated population of the towns, it has been argued
that caste is the curse of all India. But it seems to me that an
attentive, unprejudiced examination tends to prove that in former times it
was exactly the reverse, and that at the present moment, as far as all the
ignorant rural population is concerned, it may be considered, with
reference to the state of the people, as a valuable and useful
institution.
And here, at the outset, I wish it to be clearly understood that an
immense divergence has taken place between the town and country
populations of India. The former have advanced with rapid strides on the
paths of enlightenment and progress, while the latter, it is hardly too
much to say, have remained almost universally stationary. To argue,
therefore, from one to the other is not only impossible, but absurd; and
it is merely a waste of time to point out, at any length, that what may be
admirably suited to one set of people may be a positive nuisance to
another. With reference, then, to this question of caste, instead of
treating India as a whole, I shall divide it into town and country
populations. In the first place, I shall treat of the effects of caste on
the country populations, amongst whom I have lived; and, in the second
place, I shall offer some considerations regarding the effects of the
institution amongst the people of the towns.
And, first of all, as to its effects on the rural population.
In these observations on caste I shall not commence with any attempt to
trace its origin, nor shall I endeavour to enumerate the countless forms
it has assumed amongst the peoples of the great peninsula. My aim is to
direct the attention of the reader not to the dry bones of its history so
much as to the living effects of the institution. It is certainly a matter
of interest to know something of the peculiar customs of the various
tribes and races; but it is to be regretted that people generally have
rested content with information of that sort, and have seldom attempted to
investigate those points which are, I conceive, mainly of use and
interest. What Indians may or may not do--what they may eat, what they may
drink, and what clothing they may put on--are not matters on which
inquirers should bestow much time. The information most needed, and which
has not yet, or only in the most imperfect sense, been acquired, is as to
what caste has done for good or evil. It shall be my endeavour to solve
that question; and I imagine the solution would be in a great measure
effected if I could, in the first instance, answer the following
questions:
1. How far has caste acted as a moral restraint amongst the Indians
themselves?
2. How far advantageously or the reverse in segregating them socially from
the conquerors who have overrun their country?
On the first of these points I may observe, without the slightest
exaggeration, that very few of our countrymen indeed have had such
opportunities as myself of forming a correct opinion; for very few
Englishmen have been so entirely dependent on a native population for
society. For the first four or five years of my residence in
Manjarabad[31] there were only three Europeans besides myself, and we were
all about twelve miles apart. The natural consequence was that the farmers
of the country were my sole companions; and, as I joined in their sports
and had some of them always about me, terms of intimacy sprang up which
never could have existed under any other circumstances. And further, when
it is taken into consideration that I have employed the poorer of the
better castes in various capacities on my estates, and a large number of
the Pariahs, or labourer caste, it seems pretty clear that I ought to be a
tolerably competent judge as to whether caste did or did not exercise a
favourable influence on the morals of the people. Now, as regards one
department of morals, at least, I unhesitatingly affirm that it did, and
that, as regards the connection of the sexes, it would be difficult to
find in any part of the world a more moral people than the two higher
castes of Manjarabad, who form about one-half of the population, and who
may be termed the farming proprietors of the country. Amongst themselves,
indeed, it was not to be wondered at that their morality was extremely
good, as, from the fact of nearly everyone being married at the age of
puberty, and partly, perhaps, from the fact of their houses being more or
less isolated, instead of being grouped in villages, the temptations to
immorality were necessarily slight. Their temptations, though, as regards
the Pariahs, who were, when I entered Manjarabad, merely hereditary serfs,
were considerable; and there it was that the value of caste law came in.
Caste said, "You shall not touch these women;" and so strong was this law,
that I never knew of but one instance of one of the better classes
offending with a Pariah woman.[32] Some aversion of race there might, no
doubt, have been, but the police of caste and its penalties were so strong
that he would be a bold man indeed who would venture to run any risk of
detection. To give an idea of how the punishment for an offence of this
kind would operate, it may be added that, if one of the farming classes in
this country, on a case of seducing one of the lower, was fined by his
neighbours L500, and cut by society till he paid the money, he would be in
exactly the same position as a Manjarabad farmer would be who had violated
the important caste law under consideration. Here, therefore, we have a
moral police of tremendous power, and the very best proof we have of the
regularity with which it has been enforced lies in the fact that the
Pariahs and the farmers are distinguished by a form and physiognomy almost
as distinct as those existing between an Englishman and a negro. Caste,
then, as we have seen, protects the poor from the passions of the rich,
and it equally protects the upper classes themselves, and enforcedly makes
them more moral than, judging from our experience in other quarters of the
globe, they would otherwise be.
Having thus briefly glanced at caste law, as controlling the connection of
the sexes, let us now look at it from another point of view, which I
venture to think is, as regards its ultimate consequences, of even still
more importance. If there is one vice more than another which is
productive of serious crime, it is the abuse of alcohol; and there is no
doubt that, to use the words of an eminent statesman, "if we could
subtract from the ignorance, the poverty, the suffering, the sickness, and
the crime now witnessed among us, the ignorance, the poverty, the
sickness, and the crime caused by the single vice of drinking, this
country would be so changed for the better that we should hardly know it
again." Regarding it, then, in all its consequences, whether physical or
mental (and how many madmen and idiots are there not bred by
drinking?[33]), it is difficult to estimate too highly the value of caste
laws that utterly prohibit the use of those strong drinks that are
injurious in any country, but are a thousand times more so under the rays
of a tropical sun. And when we come to consider that a large proportion of
the population of India are absolutely compelled to abstain from the use
of alcohol, and that these being the very best, or at least equal to the
very best, of the community, must always have exercised a large influence
in discouraging the excessive use of intoxicating drinks, it is impossible
to refrain from coming to the conclusion that this single fact is more
than sufficient to counterbalance all the evils that have ever been said
to arise from caste.
On two very important points, then--the connection of the sexes and the
use of alcohol--it is evident that caste laws have produced some very
favourable and valuable results; but I do not think we can accurately
gauge their value unless we compare the state of morality existing in
Manjarabad with the state of morality existing in one of our home
counties; and the comparison I have to make, if not very soothing, is, I
am sure, very interesting. Take any one of our counties in Great Britain,
for instance, and compare it with Manjarabad as regards the points I have
particularly referred to, and it will be found that Manjarabad has an
immense superiority. The crimes and misery arising from drinking are
hardly to be found at all in Manjarabad, while the morality of the sexes,
I should think, could hardly be surpassed. Now, there is nothing very
surprising, considering that the people in this country are so heavily
weighted, that this should be the case; on the contrary, it is the natural
result of the circumstances of their worldly situation. But, supposing
that the worldly situation as to the means of support and the
opportunities of marrying were equal, it seems to me perfectly plain that
the people who have a large proportion of the better classes total
abstainers, and who have their society so controlled that the rich cannot
gratify their passions at the expense of the poor, must be in the
possession of a superior morality.
Before closing this branch of the subject, I may allude briefly to what
has been so often attacked by the opponents of caste: I mean the
prohibition of the marriage of widows. This rule exists in Manjarabad, but
I am not aware that any great moral evil arises from it, as a widow can
always contract to live with a man, the difference being that the
ceremonies performed are of an inferior kind. This is not allowed to be a
marriage, but, in fact, it is a marriage, though of a kind held in rather
low estimation. On customs like these, which in a great measure neutralize
the evils arising from the restrictions on re-marriage, it seems to me
that our information is very scanty, and I am not aware how far the
practice alluded to prevails in other parts of India.
Having taken into consideration the advantages of caste in acting as a
moral restraint amongst the Indians themselves, I now purpose to inquire
how far caste has acted advantageously, or the reverse, in segregating the
people socially from the conquerors who have overrun their country.
If the advantages of caste are striking and plainly apparent as regards
the moral points I have alluded to, they seem to me to be infinitely more
so when we come to consider the happy influence this institution has had
in segregating the Indians from the white races. And here I cannot help
indulging in a vain regret that the blessings of caste have not been
universally diffused amongst all inferior races. How many of these has our
boasted civilization improved off the face of the earth? How much has that
tide of civilization which the first conquerors invariably bring with them
effected? How much, in other words, have their vice, rum, and gunpowder
helped to exterminate those unhappy races which, unprotected by caste,
have come in contact with the white man? Nor in India itself are we
altogether without a well-marked instance of the value, for a time at
least, of an entire social separation between the dark and white races;
and the Todas, the lords of the soil on the Nilgiri Hills, furnish us with
a lamentable example of what the absence of caste feeling is capable of
producing. We found them a simple pastoral race, and the early visitors to
the hills were struck with their inoffensive manners, and what was falsely
considered to be their greatest advantage--freedom from caste
associations. But what is their condition now? One of drunkenness,
debauchery, and disease of the most fatal description. Had the
much-reviled caste law been theirs, what a different result would have
ensued from their contact with Europeans! Caste would have saved them
from alcohol, and their women from contamination: they would thus have
maintained their self-respect; and if, at first, separation brought no
progress nor shadow of change, it would have at least induced no evil, and
education and enlightenment would in time have modified these caste
institutions, which, to a superficial observer, seem to be productive of
nothing but evil.
We have now seen that social contact with whites, without any barrier
between them and the inferior races, is not, in a moral point of view, a
very desirable thing in any part of the world. But if there is a moral
consequence, we may also point to a mental one, which exercises an immense
influence: I mean the overwhelming sense of inferiority which is so apt to
depress casteless races. I believe, then, for savages, or for people in a |
