YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

WHEN WE WERE
STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST

BURMESE MOTHER AND CHILD.

Frontispiece.

WHEN WE WERE
STROLLING PLAYERS
IN THE EAST

BY
LOUISE JORDAN MILN

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS

NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1894

All rights reserved

TO MY FATHER
WHOSE LOVE NEVER FAILED ME
AND WHO NEVER MISUNDERSTOOD ME
K tjetiirate tfjt's Folntne

In connection with this volume I have several words of
thanks to write.
My first and best thanks are due to the editors of the
Pall Mall Gazette and of the Pall Mall Budget. Their
kindness has enabled me to reprint here several articles
that have previously appeared in one or both of their
papers. And to the generosity of the editor of the Pall
Mall Budget I owe five of the illustrations appearing here.
" Oriental Nuptials " have appeared in The Lady, the
editor of which paper kindly allows me to here use them.
Messrs. Bourne and Shepherd of Calcutta have
generously granted me permission to reproduce three of
their copyrighted photographs.
Messrs. Skeen of Colombo have kindly permitted me
to use two of their copyrighted views of Ceylon.
Several of the Burmese photographs have been col
lected for me in Burmah, and sent me by William Miller,
Esq., of Rangoon. I am peculiarly obliged to Mr. Miller,
because he found time in the press of grave official duties
to take so much trouble for one who had not then the
pleasure of his acquaintance.
L. J. M.
London, 31st May 1894.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I
PAGE
My First Glimpse of the Orient . . . i

CHAPTER II
Andrew .... . . 12
CHAPTER III
Our Day Out ..... . . 19
CHAPTER IV
My First 'Rickshaw Ride . . . . . ,26
CHAPTER V
In the Burra Bazaar . . . • • 35
CHAPTER VI
A Christmas Dinner on a Roof . . 55
CHAPTER VII
Oriental Obsequies — A Hindoo Burning Ghat . . .62
CHAPTER VIII
Oriental Nuptials— A Hindoo Marriage . . 70

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
CHAPTER IX PAGE
King Theebaw's State Barge . .80
CHAPTER X
Oriental Obsequies — Burmese Burials . 87
CHAPTER XI
Oriental Nuptials — Burmese Bridals . . . -93
CHAPTER XII
A Jaunt in a House-boat through the Home of the Wild
White Rose . . . . . . I00
CHAPTER XIII
An Opium Den in Shanghai . . . . . .112
CHAPTER XIV
Memories of Hong-Kong . . 120
CHAPTER XV
A Glimpse of Canton . 131

CHAPTER XVI
Chinese Prisoners CHAPTER XVII
The Chinese New Year

151

157

CHAPTER XVIII
Oriental Obsequies— Chinese Coffins . ^

CHAPTER XIX
Oriental Nuptials— Chinese Espousals

173

CONTENTS
CHAPTER XX
PAGE
Chinese Shoes . . . 180
CHAPTER XXI
Japanese Touch . . . 188
CHAPTER XXII
Four Women that I knew in Tokio — Mrs. Keutako 196
CHAPTER XXIII
Four Women that I knew in Tokio— The Countess Oyama and
Mrs. Uriu . . 206
CHAPTER XXIV
Four Women that I knew in Tokio — Madame Sannomiya . 214
CHAPTER XXV
Tom Street ..... 223
CHAPTER XXVI
Oriental Obsequies — A Japanese Funeral . 235
CHAPTER XXVII
Oriental Nuptials— Japanese Wedlock • 241
CHAPTER XXVIII
Bamboo . • 249

CHAPTER XXIX
On the Himalayas CHAPTER XXX
My Ayah

255

265

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
CHAPTER XXXI
PAGE
Sambo • • 275
CHAPTER XXXII
How we kept House on the Hills . 288
CHAPTER XXXIII
Oriental Obsequies — The Parsi Towers of Silence 298
CHAPTER XXXIV
Oriental Nuptials — A Parsi Wedding . 306
CHAPTER XXXV
At Subathu where the Bagpipes play and the Lepers hide . 315
CHAPTER XXXVI
In the Officers' Mess . 322
CHAPTER XXXVII
At the Mouth of the Khyber Pass . . . 328
CHAPTER XXXVIII
An Impromptu Dinner Party in the Punjab . . -335
CHAPTER XXXIX
Salaam! . . . 341

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Burmese Mother and Child Frontispiece
Street Scene in Colombo To face page 9
Natives Weaving Mats in Ceylon 25
Delhi Nautch Girl 56
King Theebaw's State Barge 80
Burmese Posture Girls 85
Pagoda on a Rocking Stone near Mandalay 88
Band at a Burmese Theatrical Performance 90
Burmese Musicians . 97
Bhamo Women 99
City Wall, Old Shanghai 112
Chinese Actors 136
Foochow Singing Girls 169
Chinese Musicians 184
Mrs. Keutako's Daughter 200
Danjero in his Favourite Role
Danjero in European Costume . 209
Danjero as I knew Him
Mrs. Keutako's Baby . 224
Hindoo Coolie Women with Loads of Bamboo 249
Fan Palm at Singapore 255

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
Natives Reading at Penang To face page 256
Hill People — Bhooteas and Nepaulese
A Thornless Black Blossom
H.H. The Maharajah of Patiala on his Favourite Racer
Afredeeds at the Khyber Pass
Idols in a Siamese Pagoda

264
273
320
329
34i

CHAPTER I
MY FIRST GLIMPSE OF THE ORIENT
To travel far and wide — out of the beaten paths, and
to enjoy it, is to have a great career. I know no other
impersonal delight that is so endless as the delight of
learning new places. To see new flora, a new type of
people having new customs, and then to realise that it
is Damascus or Kabul, Calcutta or Canton, — a place
which has been to you all your life a meaningless dot on
a map, but is now — and for ever will be to you — a vivid,
vital reality, — that is an exquisite pleasure, a twofold
pleasure, for while it fires your intellect, it feeds your
artistic sense, your love of the picturesque.
I take it for granted that you have a love of the
picturesque. If I am wrong, you would better close my
little book, and try to change it for another. For you
will think me a bit mad, and we shan't get on together
at all. I love the East — genuinely and intensely — I love every
inch of it. There are occasional bits of the landscape
that are uninteresting, but the people are always charming.
They are often lovable. They are invariably quaint and
interesting. I remember saying to my husband, when we had been
B i

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
in the East two days, " I can never be grateful enough
for having come to this wonderful Orient." Days passed
into weeks. Weeks stretched into months. Months
lengthened into years. With every passing hour my
gratitude grew. We are back in London now, and the
East is a memory ; but I am grateful still, and shall be
always. For people who long to see the Eastern wonderland
and can't, I have a big pity. For people who could go,
but don't care to, I have a huge ^contempt.
My father — a delightful fellow-traveller, and the dear
chum of my girlhood — my father and I had planned to
see the East together. But we never did. My husband
and I saw all the East together. Every day as we went
farther and farther into those wonderful countries we said
one to the other, " If he were only with us ! "
We had been playing some time in Australia, and when
we began to fear lest we had worn out our welcome, our
thoughts turned to London, the actor's Mecca. But I
begged that we might go to dear old England by a very
roundabout way. It turned out a very roundabout way
indeed. We were tempted to go from place to place.
We were detained in Japan by business. We were held
in India by illness. We went all over the East. And
when we " came home " a year ago, my boy knew a little
Chinese, a little Japanese, and very much Hindustani.
We reached Colombo at daylight. When I woke I
had that strange sensation to which, become as old a
traveller as one may, one never gets quite used — the
sensation of being in a boat that is at anchor after weeks
of incessant motion. The noise was indescribable. The
Valetta was going on to London, and they were already
coaling. I climbed up to the port-hole and looked out.
The coaling was going on farther down. As far as I
2

MY FIRST GLIMPSE OF THE ORIENT
could see were native boats that would have made
Venice gaudier when Venice was gay with the glory of
coloured gondolas. Some of them reminded me of the
birch-bark canoes that dart up and down the St. Lawrence,
some were shaped like Spanish caravels, some were
Egyptian in outline. But all were Oriental in colour ;
and all were manned by Cingalese — the first Oriental
people I had ever seen en masse.
The stewardess knocked. " Would I come into the
nursery ? " (as we called our children's cabin), " the children
absolutely refused to be dressed." I threw on a dressing-
gown and crossed the narrow passage. My two elder
babies were crowding each other from the port-hole, and
the four-month-old bairn was kicking and clutching at
the kind hands that were trying to dress her. Outside,
beneath the port-hole, was a small native boat. It was
full of fruit which the natives were reaching up to my
eager-handed children. Another boat, laden with shells,
was trying to push the fruit boat away. A dozen other
boats were crowded about these two, and fifty Cingalese
were crying — " Buy, buy, buy ! " I threw out a bit of silver
in payment for the bananas and oranges my infants were
devouring. I took a firm clutch of their night gowns and
pulled them down. The stewardess closed the port-hole,
and we three women gradually persuaded the three babies
into their different costumes. The children were taken
on deck, where their father was. I went back to my
cabin to dress. A Cingalese man had his head thrust
well inside my port-hole. His fine aquiline features were
covered with a rich brown skin. His long black hair was
twisted into a small but prominent knob at the back of
his square head. In the knob was thrust eight inches of
convex tortoise-shell, which in the bright sunshine of the
early morning sparkled like a queen's coronet.
3

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
" Salaam, beautiful English lady ! " he cried before my
astonishment had let me speak ; " I bring you many
beautiful silk— much beautiful sapphire, pearls, not white
as your neck, but white as the neck of another." He
threw a square foot of morocco at my naked feet. I
picked it up to throw it back, but it opened and I held it
a moment. I had seen the Mediterranean when it was
good-humoured, and the sky in Italy. I never saw blue
until I looked into that leather casket of rings. Oh !
those sapphires, cunningly relieved here and there by a
glinting cat's-eye, or a gleaming pearl !
" Go away," I said, handing up the box, " I'm not
dressed." " Beautiful English lady, buy," he replied, ignoring his
gems. I glanced into the diminutive P. and O. mirror.
My nose was sunburnt ; my hair was in curl papers. I
have seen uglier women, but not many. That naturally
annoyed me.
" Take your rubbish away," I said sharply. " I don't
want. I've no money."
The first statement was untrue. I did want them.
Only a blind woman could look on Ceylon sapphires
without longing to wear them. With the poetic sense
peculiar to the East, it was my last and true statement
that he disregarded.
" Lady take one ring, two ring, six ring. I come
hotel get money."
" I'm going to London," I said, lying glibly. I was
anxious to get on deck. I wanted to dress.
" Lady send me money from London. I trust. No
English sir, no English madame, cheat poor native man."
I have heard English honour upheld in Westminster.
I have heard it praised directly and indirectly by almost
all the peoples in Europe and in America. But, to me,
4

MY FIRST GLIMPSE OF THE ORIENT
this was the establishment of English honour. And it
was so all over the East. I was not an Englishwoman,
but I was the next best thing, the wife of an Englishman,
and I could buy on credit half the curios in the East, if I
wished. At last I induced my Cingalese friend to carry his
sapphires to a more hopeful port-hole. I dressed and
went on deck. One of my little ones crept to me. She
had a huge bunch of blossom in her wee hands. Some
of the flowers I had seen in famous conservatories. Half
of them I had never seen. They were massed together —
white, red and yellow, no half colours ! They were tightly
bound into a stupid graceless bunch, stiffly bordered by
thick leaves, but from them rose a perfume heavy as
incense, sweet as sandal-wood. One of my baby's many
admirers had given them to her. He had bought them
for two annas. The vendor had cheated him into paying
double price.
The deck was thronged with native merchants and
was vocal with hubbub. At a short distance from the
Valetta a dozen native boys were paddling a frail little
craft. " Throw away, sir ; throw money, sir. I dive, sir
— I dive." And dive they did, invariably bringing up
the silver in their triumphant mouths. They dived and
swam and rose like nimble, black flying-fish. Hundreds
of coolies were bringing big baskets of coal up the
ship's sides. They were as quick as monkeys and far
noisier. I sank into my steamer chair. In a moment I was
surrounded. Three Cingalese men planted themselves
complacently at my feet. Their attendant coolies followed
with their wares. One man had photographs. One had
Point de Galle lace and chicken work. One had tortoise-
shell and ebony. All had sapphires, cat's-eyes, and moon-
5

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
stones. Every passenger on deck was surrounded by just
such a brown coterie.
Colombo itself we saw but indifferently. A few houses
and myriad cocoanut trees, that was all ; but around us
were anchored the ships of a dozen flags. If I remember,
the only men-of-war were three or four of the funny little
Japanese warships.
After a hasty breakfast, which even the children were
too excited to eat, we went on shore. What a wonder
land ! The grass was the crisp green of eternal summer.
The intense sunshine was pouring mercilessly down. But
native men and women were walking leisurely along, with
bare heads, and apparently cool skins. A horribly de
formed boy rushed at us with a prayer for bukshish.
My husband sprang between him and me. But, though
I did not know it, I had, for the first time, seen a leper.
I was destined to see lepers all over India, and a year
or more later, in Subathu, I learned to go among them
quietly if not quite calmly. As for the cry of bukshish,
which was the first native word I heard in the East, it was
also the last. I heard it incessantly for two years and
more. The peoples among whom we went spoke
Hindustani, Gujarati, Tamul, Marahti, and a dozen other
tongues, but they all cried " Salaam, memsahib. Bukshish !
Bukshish ! "
It was only a stone's throw to the large, pleasant
hotel. The manager was waiting for us ; and with him
was an ayah, who had been engaged as an assistant nurse,
by our advance agent. What a splendidly handsome
woman she was ! A long, straight piece of striped silk
was wrapped about her hips and fell nearly .to her ankles.
A short Cingalese jacket, made of white lawn and edged
with lace, covered her bosom. Her arms and neck and
feet were gleaming, black and bare. And between her
6

MY FIRST GLIMPSE OF THE ORIENT
short white jacket and her low red skirt was an interspace
of four or more inches of black plumpness. Her magni
ficent black hair was carefully braided, and the long
braids were artistically gathered together by a beautiful
silver pin, which also fastened a red rose. She wore a
string of big gold beads about her neck. She gave a
shrewd look at my sturdy little flock. " Salaam, mem-
sahib," she cried, showing all her large perfect teeth. " Two
baba not walk ! " She seized upon the smaller of the two
and led the way to our rooms. That very afternoon the
elder baby walked, for the first time, and after that very
rarely asked to be carried. If the ayah repented her
choice of babies she gave no sign, but abode by her first
selection. It was in Colombo that I first ate curry that was
nearly perfect. In Colombo I ate a dozen fruits I had
never eaten before. The hotel was very pleasant. The
rooms were large and shady, and they were — what, alas ! we
were not always to find them in the East — sweetly clean.
There was a wonderful garden at the back of the hotel,
from which the mallie used to gather me a great bunch
of strange, graceful, scarlet flowers. And yet there never
seemed a flower the less. Alas ! the flowers of the East
spring up, bloom, bear, and wither
In the same hour.
The quiet, respectful, ready Oriental service was
delightful. And it was adequate, which Eastern service
is not always, for it was under efficient European
supervision. The verandah of the hotel was a great cool place.
It was pleasant to sit there when the heat of the day had
broken a bit — to sit there and write chits for iced lemon
drinks or claret cup, and watch the deft Indian jugglers,
7

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
and barter with the persistent natives for lace and
embroideries, for silks and pongees, for silver belts and
for gems. Two Mahommedans had the privilege of
spreading their wares on one end of the verandah. And
the others were allowed to come upon the verandah with
a small quantity of things. They were not allowed to
over-pester you, which made shopping on the hotel
verandah far pleasanter than shopping in the shops.
But the hotel, pleasant as it was, was merely a
European incident, — it was no part of Colombo the native,
Colombo the picturesque, though some of the native colour
and bits of the native picture were necessarily included in
its background. The first thing we did in Colombo, after we had had
a rest and interviewed a dhobie, was to inspect the theatre,
The second was to take a long drive.
We drove some distance, indeed, to the theatre. We
drove by the barracks, and the bagpipes of the Gordon
Highlanders squeaked out that the Campbells were coming.
We drove by native shops, where tiger skins from the
thick jungles and rich rugs from Persia were hung outside,
and where delicately wrought gold and silver ware gleamed
in the windows. The proprietors of these shops invariably
rushed out and threw themselves in front of our steed, who
was, by the way, far from fiery. The gharri wallah and
the sais gave us no help. They sat and waited develop
ments as patiently as did the horse itself. We tried
abusing the over-solicitous merchants. But they were
impervious to abuse. We found that there was one way
and one way only of effecting our escape, namely, by
committing perjury. We took their cards and vowed we
would return in one hour, to their particular shop and to
none other.
And so we, at last, escaped — escaped into a native

STREET SCENE IN COLOMBO.

Page g.

MY FIRST GLIMPSE OF THE ORIENT
street. Shall I ever forget it ! Hut huddled against hut,
where the streets were thick with dwellings. In the front
of almost every hut was a booth — a booth piled with
grains or fruits or any of a hundred other articles of diet,
all equally unknown to us. Potatoes and bananas were
the only things I recognised. Oh yes ! and pumpkins.
In each booth sat a salesman or woman. Sometimes it
was a nearly naked coolie — as often it was a carefully
dressed Cingalese woman. In every instance there was a
pair of primitive scales, and, usually, a customer or two.
Farther out, the streets grew more sylvan. There were
more cocoanut trees and fewer houses. There were no
more shops. Here and there a native squatted upon the
ground, waiting to sell a trayful of violently coloured
cakes and sweetmeats, or drinks from greasy-looking
bottles that were filled with crudely-hued liquids.
We passed a thousand-stemmed banyan tree. A
pretty Tamul mother sat in its shade nursing a rolly-poly
black baby. A few feet from her were two yellow-clad
priests of Buddha, telling their beads.
We drove by a quiet, irregular, silver lake. We drove
through a tangle of tropical undergrowth and Eastern
flowers. Here and there the cocoanut trees lifted their
supreme heads, and now and again the laughing faces of
brown babies peeped out at us from the thick of the
bamboo. We came to the theatre all too soon, for our delight
with this old world, so new to us, had quite superseded
our professional anxiety. But the theatre was a pleasant
surprise. It was pretty — decidedly pretty, and new. We opened
it, if I remember — at least professionally. The audi
torium was a large high room, beautifully finished with
teak-wood. I sat down while my husband gave some
9

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
directions about scenery. At least fifty coolies were
working in their slow, noisy way. They ought to have
worked more quickly, for they were encumbered by an
absolute minimum of clothing.
We went back to the gharri. We drove through some
pretty, unkept gardens, where the air reminded me of my
grandmother's best cupboard, it was so heavy with the
smell of cinnamon and nutmegs, and of cloves. That is
one of the disadvantages of having lived in the West.
Such vulgar utilitarian comparisons suggest themselves.
Children ran after us, throwing flowers and fruit into
my lap and screaming to my husband for bukshish. It
was amusing at first ; but it grew wearying. If they had
varied it a bit, by offering him a flower or begging from
me a pice. But that never occurred to them. It is a very
sophisticated Cingalese indeed who ever suspects a woman
of having any money. The late gloaming fell upon us, and
we could no longer see the full details of the beauty that
surrounded us. As the last of the colour faded with
which the sunset echoed the beauty of Ceylon, we found
ourselves at the door of a Buddhist temple. As my
husband lifted me out of the gharri, I noticed that he
was softly quoting a lovely dine from The Light of Asia.
He was interrupted by a sudden rush of humanity. Three
buxom girls had dashed from an adjacent hut. They
threw themselves literally upon him, with a nice Oriental
disregard of my presence. My husband shook himself,
but not free, and used a word that is not in the purists'
lexicon. I must own I felt a little perturbed. Andrew
(my husband's Cingalese boy, of whom more anon) relieved
the embarrassment. " No harm, sahib — no harm," he said-
" Hers want bukshish."
The Buddhist temple was novel, and weird in the dim
light. The grotesque figures of Buddha were huge, crudely
io

MY FIRST GLIMPSE OF THE ORIENT
shaped, glaringly coloured, and shockingly disproportioned.
But the priest who constituted himself our cicerone was
very wonderful. He spoke only fairish English. But he
explained Buddhism so clearly, so concisely, and withal so
picturesquely, that we felt we had learned more of it in
that one hour spent with him than we had learned before
from many earnestly read books.
We drove home through the tender starlight. The
flowers were hidden, like high-caste Hindoo women, behind
the purdah of the dark. But the damp night dews had
distilled the tender leaves of the cinnamon trees, and the
air was superlatively sweet.
We went into the hotel a little tired, but very pleased
with our first day in the Orient, and very content that it
was almost dinner time.

1 1

CHAPTER II
ANDREW
We are poor sometimes, we two Nomads, but we are
never without a retinue. There are two reasons for this.
I am a helpless, incapable woman, with an acute need of
servants. My husband, on the other hand, is phenomen
ally good to servants. They seem to know this instinct
ively. They flock to him, and install themselves in his
service, and he always feels it difficult to dislodge them.
We went into Colombo a party of six. I am not speaking
of our company of twenty odd artists (more or less), but
of our family party, in which were ourselves, our three
children, and their European nurse. We left Colombo a
party of eight. A Madrassi boy had attached himself to
my husband, and I took the Cingalese ayah for Baby.
We left Andrew weeping and wailing on the wharf, and
doing it in the most approved and vigorous style. My
husband was half inclined to take Andrew with him, but
we did not need him ; and I had rather discouraged the
idea for two other reasons. I should perhaps be ashamed
of them both ; but this is a true history as far as it goes ;
so here they are : — Andrew was not good-looking. Now
one must put up with ill-looking relatives, but I can never
bring myself to be contented with positively plain servants.
My other objection to Andrew was that he was a " Cold
I 2

ANDREW
Water Baptist." I don't in the least know what cold water
Baptists are. Were I to meet them in Europe, it is of
course possible that I should like and respect them in
tensely ; but I must own to a prejudice against native
converts. Not so much because I believe that they are
usually insincere, as because they are almost invariably
hybrid. I believe in the suitability of all things, even in
the suitability of religion. Andrew was lank and hungry-
looking ; he wrapped the native skirt about his legs ;
he pinned his long hair up with the orthodox tortoise-
shell comb ; but he wore a European coat over a dirty
European shirt. Could anything have looked worse ? I
think not.
Andrew called himself a guide. He discovered my
husband before we had fairly arrived, and insisted upon
being engaged. We found him very useful, because he
could speak English. And that was a comfort, though
he never had any exact information and very rarely spoke
the rigid truth. He never lost sight of his master for an
instant, unless he was peremptorily sent on an errand to
the other end of the town. My husband used to try to
escape him. Once or twice we would really have enjoyed-
a short walk or a drive, alone. But we never had either.
There were many exits from our hotel. We tried them all.
Sometimes we would get as far as the corner. Then we
would hear the plunk — plunk — plunk- — of Andrew's flying
feet. " Salaam, sahib," he would gasp breathlessly, " where
are we going ? "
He never would tell us his real name. I used to try
to bribe him. His master would threaten him. He had
but one reply for threat or bribe : " Andrew is my
Christian name. I am a Cold Water Baptist." He never
seemed able to lessen my dense ignorance re the interest
ing subject of Cold Water Baptists. But he could talk
13

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
glibly enough about the faith he had forsworn. And I
observed that he seemed on intimate terms with the priests
at all the native temples, and never failed to drop a copper
in the temple box. I concluded that his conversion had
been purely commercial. He told me that the "Padre
Sahib " had given him three coats. It is easier to give a
native a coat than a belief.
When we drove in the chill early morning, Andrew
used to wrap his head in a Gordon tartan. If we chanced
to pass the barracks, he promptly unwound his shawl,
folded it up, and sat upon it. Doubtless he did not wish
to embarrass me by having the sentry mistake him for the
Colonel. My husband often used, when he was too busy to go
with me on my long afternoon drives, to send Andrew —
partly for my convenience, as I always went into the
densest native quarters, where English was not spoken, and
partly, I think, to get rid of Andrew.
One afternoon I looked behind to speak to Andrew,
who with the sais was perched on the back of the
gharri. He was smoking a not bad cigar. I flew at him,
verbally. " No harm," he said, with insolence that was, I am sure,
unconscious. " No harm. The sahib is not here. I no
smoke before my master."
" You won't smoke before me!" I said with undignified
warmth. " Your master would not smoke in a gharri with
me. And I won't allow any other man to do so — black
or white." Andrew looked at me stupidly and smiled. Then a
thought flashed from my eyes to his. He knocked the
fire from his cigar, and put the stump in his pocket. I
had recognised my husband's favourite Havanna, and
Andrew knew it. 14

ANDREW
One day I bought some trifle from an itinerant native.
We were driving, and I was wearing a pocketless dress.
" Give the man six annas for me, Andrew," I said ; " I
have no money."
" No," he said smoothly, " a woman wouldn't."
I had one other experience with Andrew, when driving.
My husband sent me to capture a scene-painter, and bring
him, if possible, to the theatre. The man was that de
spised unhappy thing, a Eurasian. He was poor ; and he
drank too much. But I had seen a fan he had painted,
and some water-colour sketches of Kandy which he had
done. I knew that he was — in part at least — a genius.
We found him after a great deal of trouble. He came out
to my gharri, and I greeted him, as I would always greet
an artist, and stated my business. He took off his shabby
sombrero and climbed up to the seat I indicated beside
me. Andrew broke into excited vernacular. The man
beside me flushed, and started to move.
" What is the matter ? " I asked.
" I tell him I no let Eurasian man sit beside my
master's wife. He must come back here with me and Sais."
I was in a fine rage. I made Andrew get out and
walk the several miles that stretched between us and the
theatre. That night I had my husband tell him that,
when he went out with me, he was, under no circumstances,
to speak, unless I spoke to him.
But it was the day of our first performance that I
really established myself in Andrew's mind as a person of
importance. I went to the theatre about four o'clock to
see if the ayah I had engaged to help me at the theatre
had put my dressing-room into proper trim. As I passed
in, I noticed Andrew sitting on the lowest rung of a
bamboo ladder. He was looking very vicious. He
muttered " Salaam " rather than said it, and didn't rise. I
15

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
went into my dressing-room, and then marched on to the
stage, to attack the poor stage manager.
" Am I to dress in that fearful hole ? " I asked him
sweetly. Some one laughed. I turned round.
" I beg your pardon," said Jimmie M'Allister, " but do
come and see the governor's quarters." Jimmie was, of
all the boys in our company, my first favourite.
I followed him downstairs, and the stage manager
followed me. I looked into my husband's quarters.
" Do you want to see where the other ladies dress ? "
asked the stage manager softly.
" I say, do come and see our palace behind the scenes,"
cried Jimmie triumphantly.
But I had seen quite enough. The artists' quarters at
the Colombo theatre did not compare favourably with the
front of the house. I went meekly back to my dressing-
room, wondering what could be done to make my
husband's den a little more comfortable.
" Would you mind speaking to this young imp of your
husband's ? " said the stage manager. " He won't let us
take the governor's things into the dressing-room." My
heart warmed to Andrew.
" Quite right," I said ; " the room certainly must be
cleaned out first."
" Oh ! he doesn't in the least mind the dirt," explained
Jimmie. " He's offended because your dressing-room is
better than the governor's."
I had known a prominent actor in — well never mind
where — who used to dress luxuriously off the stage, while
his wife climbed up a flight of narrow stairs, and wandered
down a dark corridor to a gruesome little closet. But
that any one would ever expect my husband to be brute
enough to allow me to do anything of that kind had never
16

ANDREW
occurred to me. I felt vexed for the moment. Then we
came upon Andrew, sitting on the ladder, doggedly guard
ing his master's luggage. I realised that Andrew was
quite right from his point of view ; and for a moment I
felt tempted to gratify him by ordering my things to be
put into my husband's room. Then I remembered that
we were to play the Merchant of Venice that night.
Shylock wore one dress ; Portia wore five. And then
too, had I changed rooms, my husband would have
changed back again. I sent for some coolies ; I called
my ayah, and superintended the cleaning of that room
myself. Jimmie M'Allister and the stage manager
helped me. Andrew stood by sullenly. His master
came in. Andrew sprang to him.
" The memsahib has a more nice room," he said
impressively. " The memsahib has a beastly hole. Go and tell that
Madrassi out in front that I want a carpet and a sofa and
some nice chairs, here in half an hour, for the memsahib's
room — mind you."
Poor Andrew gasped and went out. But his manner
to me changed from that moment. An hour later Jimmie
and I went to the bazaar and got the furniture for my
husband's room. I think Andrew forgave me when I
came back with it. I took some curtains from a property
box, and told him to tack them up at his master's window.
He answered me quite pleasantly.
I never had another encounter with Andrew ; but I
never could teach him to knock. He would walk into
my dressing-room, and coolly pick up my hare's-foot, or
my scissors, without vouchsafing me one poor word of
explanation. If I ventured to ask " What are you doing ? "
he replied, " Master want," and went out. I used to beg
him to knock ; but I don't remember that he ever did
C 17

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
knock. Nor did he ever beat a retreat, no matter in
what state of deshabille he found me. Finally, we used to
turn the key in the door, if I had an entire change to
make. Then he would pound on the door and cry so
loudly that the people in front heard — " Open, open ;
Master want your red paint."
Andrew and I grew better friends. He used to bring
me some little present every morning. Three or four
flowers, or a basket of cocoanuts, or a spray of cinnamon.
He said one day to my nurse — " The master like the
memsahib. I want please the master — I must please the
memsahib. When the memsahib grow old and her teeth
drop out, the master will sell her and buy a new wife."
We overheard this remark of Andrew's. My husband was
delighted, and to this day often holds the threat over my
silvering head. But I grew to really like Andrew, he
was so unmistakably fond of his master. I believe that
he grew to really like me, for the same reason.

CHAPTER III
OUR DAY OUT
Three Grecian cities strove for Homer dead
Where Homer living begged his daily bread.
And the locale of the Garden of Eden is claimed by
at least three of the Eastern islands that we have visited.
The island of Penang appealed the most seductively to
my credulity ; but before I saw Penang, I was convinced
that Ceylon was in reality the site of the Garden of
Eden. Colombo impressed me ; Mount Lavinia con
vinced me.
Mount Lavinia is the Richmond of Colombo. The
Mount Lavinia Hotel is the Star and Garter of Ceylon.
But 'Any and Arriet never go there. The demi-monde
never goes there. The world and his wife don't flock
there. The European population of Colombo is so
limited that it does not embrace either 'Arry or 'Arriet —
it has ' no demi-monde, at least no palpable one ; and
the world and his wife are not numerous enough to flock.
Mount Lavinia is a Paradise d deux. Nature is super
latively beautiful there. At the hotel there is an ideal
chef. For years we have had a habit of periodically escaping
from every one and everything. Our life has been a busy
one ; it has been full of friction ; but when the friction
19

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
has threatened to make us forget each other a bit, we
have usually managed to shake the dust of the high road
from our tired feet, and to snatch a quiet breathing spell,
alone, and together.
The second Sunday we were in Colombo we were up
very early, — we were going to Mount Lavinia for the
day. When we left the hotel the sun was just rising. I
had a new frock on, and my husband was good enough to
say that it was pretty. I tore it badly getting into the
gharri, but it didn't matter — he found a pin and pinned
it for me. We had a long wait at the little station. We
stood outside, and tried to guess which of the hieroglyphics
painted in black on the white station was " Colombo " in
Tamul, and which was " Colombo " in Cingalese.
The funny little train came sizzing into the station ;
in five minutes we had started. We looked at each other
and smiled ; our little holiday had begun. Critics might
rail, and actors might snarl ; it was nothing to us ; this
was our day out.
We sped through miles of cocoanut trees. Except
near the little settlements, through which we passed every
ten or fifteen minutes, we saw nothing but cocoanuts.
Here and there the natives were gathering the ripe nuts.
Here and there agile boys were stealing them, slipping up
and down the trees like squirrels. The thousands, nay
tens of thousands, of tall straight trees became impressive
from their very numbers. It was very Oriental, very
graphic ; and just before it became the least bit mono
tonous, the train slackened a little. Then we passed a
broken line of native huts.
Every Cingalese mother bathes her children on Sun
day. Weather permitting (and in Ceylon the weather
almost always does permit), every Cingalese ablution takes
place out of doors, and in as conspicuous a place as
20

OUR DAY OUT
possible. We must have seen some hundreds of native
children drenched with soapsuds, swashed with icy water,
or rubbed with oil that morning. Many of the adults
bathe as publicly, but not so often. We saw one woman
bathing eleven children, and they were all crying. The
huts thickened, and we had reached a station. It was a
pretty low brown building. It reminded me — though I
don't know why — of Anne Hathaway's cottage. Brilliant
flowering vines hung from the sloping roof. In the door
way was gathered a motley group. Two dirty Buddhist
priests sat on the ground counting pice. A group of
Cingalese women were eating cocoanuts, drinking the milk,
and scraping the soft young meat out with their nails
and teeth. The Cingalese women are most beautifully
formed. They are upright and supple, and every beauty-
line of the human figure is emphasised upon their persons.
Their invariable white jackets contrast so splendidly with
their dusky skin that one almost catches oneself wonder
ing if black is not the desirable complexion-colour after
all. Their brilliant lips, their tawny eyes, their gay petti
coats, save the sharp black and white contrast from being
too abrupt or too emphatic. A few feet from the women
stood a group of Cingalese men, doing nothing. Their
long hair was in every instance nicely pinned up with a
big tortoise-shell comb, and their parti-coloured skirts hung
in straight, listless folds.
A small detachment of the Salvation Army was
singing " From Greenland's icy mountains, From India's
coral strand," very badly. No one was paying the least
attention to them, however. The women were dressed in
the Cingalese costume, with some slight additions where the
genuine Cingalese dress is rather abbreviated. I thought
it rather nice of them not to disfigure the picture by the
introduction of clumsy blue frocks and big pokebonnets.
21

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
We went slowly on, passing a quaint string of native
carts. The oxen were necklaced with roses, and most of
them were surmounted by at least one small black boy.
The carts were peculiarly shaped of course, gaily painted,
and more or less embellished by nondescript draperies.
Each cart was incredibly full. But the oxen were crawl
ing along and seemed very comfortable. None of the
natives seemed in the least hurry.
When we reached Mount Lavinia, Andrew, whom we
had thought in Colombo, opened the carriage door. We
gave him a rupee and told him to go home. He looked
very indignant ; but he went away.
What a day of days ! The air was sweet and strong —
you could drink it. Indeed, breathing was drinking in
this paradise place. A few steps on, and the blue water
laughed at our feet. A few yards up, and we saw the
rambling old hotel, where we had been told that we
would get the best dinner in India.
But before dinner, we had a long lounge on the vined
verandah. We didn't talk ; we rested. My companion
was very radiant over a cigar, and I sipped bravely at a
glass of sherry. I don't like sherry ; but we had been
advised to leave ourselves absolutely in the hands of the
khansamah. He, I think, had spied the rent in my frock,
for he eyed us rather dubiously and asked sadly, but
evidently without hope, if we wanted champagne with our
tiffin. We confessed that we did, and he brightened up
wonderfully. He gave me a long verandah chair, and my
husband another, and trotted off, without waiting for any
further orders. He came back soon, with a tray of cigars,
two glasses, and some milk biscuits. He gave my husband
the cigars and the wee glass that held a thimbleful of
something that looked deadly. Upon me he bestowed the
glass of sherry and the innocent milk biscuits. I am no
22

OUR DAY OUT
more devoted to milk biscuits than I am to sherry, but I
nibbled and sipped obediently. It was my day out, and I
meant to enjoy it, and everything it brought. My com
rade was very happy with his cigar, and said that the
mysterious thimbleful was very good, but he didn't think
I'd better taste it. That was apparently the opinion also
of the khansamah ; so I abode by the united decision of
two superior intellects.
I felt a soft tug at my gown. I looked down. An
ayah was seated at my feet ; she was calmly taking the
pin from my rent skirt. Then she produced needle and
cotton and mended my tatters. Verily, the khansamah
had taken us in hand.
The tiffin, even as a pale memory, defies description.
We had a little flower-decked table in a window ; we
could look across the gorgeous garden to the purple sea ;
sea and garden were shimmering with golden glints of
sunshine. The khansamah waited upon us himself. He appar
ently knew that the tiffin was perfect, for he allowed us
to decline nothing. He gave us soft-shell crabs, as I
had never hoped to eat them out of Boston ; and the
memory of the mayonnaise haunts me still. I often
dream of the curry. Some day I am going all the way to
Ceylon to get such another tiffin ; and if the cook is
dead — " I'll have a suit of sables."
When the khansamah thought that we had had enough
to eat, he marched us out on to one of the terraces of the
garden. There he brought us our coffee and liqueurs. He
brought out three cigarettes ; and my husband, who
doesn't care for cigarettes, took them meekly.
We lazed a bit, and then employed a young gentleman
of about five, to roll down hill at an anna a roll. He was
really very interesting. The hill was steep but grassy.
23

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
He started at the top, and brought up in the surf. He
swam about for a few moments, and then came back to us,
and did it over again. He did not wet his garments, for
he wore none. We grew satiated before he grew tired.
We paid him, and he carried his dripping person off,
to offer his services to some officer sahibs that were in
another part of the gardens.
We went for a long, slow walk. I went into three or
four native huts, while my husband smoked outside and
called in to me what wild risks I was running. The huts
were built of mud, of dried banana stalks, of bits of wood,
and of white-washed manure. The interiors were very
clean. The Cingalese are scrupulously clean. The only
exceptions are the priests and the lepers. I bought a
piece of coarse embroidery from one woman. I did not want
it, but she had given us milk and plantains. I bought
sweetmeats from a wayside seller, and sat under a banyan
tree to eat them. While we were there, an old decrepit
man hobbled to us. He untied his well-worn pouch and
took out a gray soapy-looking stone, about the size of a
small marble. He laid it in my lap and asked for bukshish.
We gave him a rupee, to get rid of him. I quite forgot
about the stone until a year or more after, when I came
across it one day. We were in Patiala at the time, and a
famous lapidarian was there from Calcutta. I showed
him the bit of stone. It was an uncut sapphire. And
it turned out a very fair gem.
We concluded to be very extravagant, and drive back
to Colombo through the moonlit cocoanut groves. We
went back to the hotel to order a gharri and to pay our
bill. Our happy holiday was nearly over ; but still the best
of it was to come, — the long delightful drive was to come.
That drive home was so beautiful that I almost forgot
to be sorry that our pleasant jaunt was ending.
24

NATIVES WEAVING MATS IN CEYLON.

Page 25.

OUR DAY OUT
The weird shadows of the cocoanut trees fell softly on
the white road. The native huts we passed were dark
and silent. The natives, one and all, had eaten their
evening rice, and gone to sleep. The Cingalese have not
learned that it is sometimes economy to burn night oil.
In their cities, torches of splintered wood sometimes help
them to lengthen their day's work ; but in the country
they go to bed with the birds.
I looked behind me, to impress my memory with the
outlines of some unusually peculiar hut. Andrew was
clinging to the back of the gharri with the sais.
As we neared Colombo, we drove through unbroken
miles of pungent cinnamon groves. The moonlight was
vivid. We were content and silent.
Colombo was wide awake. The officers' mess was
aflame with light. Government House showed a hundred
lights through the mass of surrounding shrubberies.
" What a perfect night it is ! " said one of us.
" What a perfect day it has been ! " sighed the other.
" We will try to go to Mount Lavinia again before we
leave," said my companion.
'' I wonder if the children have been good," said I, as
we drew up at our hotel door.

25

CHAPTER IV
MY FIRST 'RICKSHAW RIDE
My husband would not ride in a jinrickshaw, nor did
he wish me to do so. Of course, I was curious — very
curious — to know how it felt to be rushed along, drawn by
a " human horse." He thought it wrong to use men in
that fashion, and would neither step into a jinrickshaw
nor countenance my doing so.
The night before we left Colombo it rained furiously.
I suppose every one feels caged, once in a while. I felt
caged that night. I remember walking up and down our
long sitting-room, up and down, until my husband laid
aside his book and said, " What is the matter ? "
" I want to go for a 'rickshaw ride," I cried.
" In all this rain ? "
" You know I love to be out in the rain  "
" I can't let you go alone, and I will not ride in one of
those cruel carts."
" I'll take Nurse with me, if you'll see that the ayah
minds the children."
" All right. I don't think it's right ; but if you do, I'll
go and get the 'rickshaws."
I flew into the nursery, and encountered another
obstacle. My nurse did not approve of 'rickshaws either.
She proposed a gharri ride. I told her that I was going
26

MY FIRST 'RICKSHAW RIDE
in a 'rickshaw, and that, if she didn't come, I'd go alone.
She was incapable of letting me go alone ; so she sighed
and put on her things.
Does every one in England know what a 'rickshaw is ?
Almost every one ought by this. A 'rickshaw is not un
like a bath-chair. It is higher, lighter, more comfortable.
It is not pushed ; it is pulled. A jinrickshaw coolie runs
between the two shafts, which he holds firmly in his hands.
We took two 'rickshaws. The manager of the hotel
told the coolies that they were to run for an hour, and bring
us back at the end of that time.
How it poured ! but I was delighted with the motion,
and never ceased to like it. They were very swift ; they
ran with an easy even gait. There was all the pleasure
of driving behind a spirited horse and none of the respon
sibility. There were no reins to hold, no control to
exercise. I leaned back on my cushions and enjoyed
myself. They were sure of foot those brown runners ; and
I knew that though they ran never so swiftly they would
never run away. As for their personalities, they have
less personality than a horse. Their presence a few feet
in front was no intrusion. They were merely the naked
steaming means toward an exhilarating end of entrancing
motion. We rushed on and on, through the dark and the storm
— such a soft, warm, pleasant storm. At last the coolies
stopped. They had brought us into the cinnamon grove.
I was glad to be there upon my last night in Ceylon.
While we sat and sniffed the sweet, languid, scented air,
the coolies rubbed each other down. Each carried over
his shoulder a long towel-like rag. With these they gave
each other a good shampooing. They did not withdraw
into the shade or the shelter ofthe cinnamon trees. They
stayed where they were, as pet horses might have browsed
27

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
by the near way-side. The night was black ; but the well-
trimmed 'rickshaw lamps flashed steadily upon the clearly
revealed coolies, showing their brown bodies red.
The rain fell in torrents. They seemed to like it ;
and as they towelled off each other's sweat, they lifted
their faces to the descending drench as tired horses might
push their steaming flanks into a well found stream.
They halted three minutes perhaps — perhaps fifteen.
I don't know. I was thinking new thoughts, and one can't
measure thought with a tape measure.
They wrung the human rain and the rain of heaven from
their rags, and started on their homeward run. My home
ward run I should say, for they slept beside their 'rickshaws
beneath the stars, or, if it chanced to rain, beneath their
'rickshaws. And I, who slept mostly in hotels, could
hear, if I woke in the watches of the night, the peaceful
breathings of my babies as they slumbered in an adjacent
room. The 'rickshaw coolies are not, I believe, blessed, or
burdened, with many babies. They rarely have means
justifiant of marriage. And in the Orient, marriage is
more honoured in the observance than in the breach.
Then too they die young as a rule, these " human horses "
of the East. Consumption, in some one of its many deadly
forms, cuts short their perpetual racing after the petty
cash of listless-legged Europeans.
When we reached the hotel, they whined for bukshish
with the usual mingling of cringing and of bullying.
They were placidly oblivious of all the fine thoughts they
had enkindled in my mind. They were not even curious
as to what manner of woman I was, that I elected to ride
through the rushing rain. I have so often seen the
wonder-look upon the stupid face of a European coach
man who has driven me aimlessly through the dark or the

MY FIRST 'RICKSHAW RIDE
wet. But on the intelligent faces of my first 'rickshaw
coolies, I saw nothing. Their feelings, their thoughts,
were as locked from me as mine from them. And not
one of their thoughts was of me. To them, I meant two
rupees eight annas. No more, no less.
" Well ? " said my husband.
" Well ! " said I.
" Did you enjoy it ? "
" Oh yes ! so much."
" Didn't you feel wicked ? "
" A little. But that will wear off, I think."
Wear off it did. I became an inveterate jinrickshawist.
Did I shorten the life of any coolie ? I don't know.
I provided many a coolie with an overflowing bowl of
rice and curry, that made his life momentarily very
endurable. Would they better live longer and be hungrier ?
Can we give them other, better work ?
Ah ! those are questions for statesmen, not for women.
The next day, when we left our rooms in the early
morning, we found John, the Madrassi, waiting for us.
We were taking him to Calcutta with us, and he was
all anerve to start. John was, with one exception, the
handsomest native man I ever saw. He was nearly six
feet tall, and carried himself with superb dignity. He was
fastidiously devoted to his own personal appearance, and
we took great delight in his toilets. I remember him so
well, as he stood outside our door, in the pale November
dawn. He was dressed in the sheerest of white robes, or
rather draperies ; the upper cloth was of soft native silk ;
he wore a huge turban, snowy white, with one thin line
of gold running through it ; and in his ears he wore two
hoops of flashing rubies. John never developed a desire to
carry parcels, but it was his delight to carry our almost two-
29

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
year-old baby. What pictures they used to make ! She
was a big dimpled baby, very white, with bright blue eyes
and gleaming yellow curls. John was as black as a
Madrassi can be, which is very black indeed ; but he was
always as spotless in his attire as baby Mona herself.
A man said to my husband, " You must not allow
your servant to wear such turbans, nor, above all, to wear
jewelry ; and then at night he wraps a really valuable
cashmere shawl about his miserable shoulders. It is
shocking form."
" My wife would be greatly annoyed if John dressed
less picturesquely — " began my husband.
" But it's most disrespectful, my dear boy, don't you
know." " My wife is very disrespectful. That I know."
I came along in time to hear the last few sentences.
" Dear sir," I said, " don't you know that wherever
MacGregor sits is the head of the table ? "
" The natives must be kept down," was all the reply
vouchsafed me.
The Kaiser-i-Hind sailed at eleven in the morning.
I had a good cry at nine o'clock — not because we were
leaving Colombo, but because the dhobie had left us no
underclothing but rags. It was my first experience with
an Oriental washerman, and it grieved me. All the pretty,
dainty things that my babies had worn during the long
voyage from Adelaide to Colombo were ruined. Thorns
and rocks had had more to do with that washing than had
soap and water.
As we were leaving the hotel, Andrew, who had been
paid in full the night before, and whom we had not
expected to see again, arrived. He had begged to go
with us and had been refused. Now he had made one
heroic effort to carry his point. He had cut off his hair
30

MY FIRST 'RICKSHAW RIDE
and broken his comb. Having Europeanised himself so
far, he seemed to feel that we were in honour bound to
take him with us. He even said to my husband that he
would put on trousers when we reached Calcutta. He
couldn't do so in Colombo, because his wife was coming
to see him off. He was broken-hearted when he learned
that we really would not take him. He wept piteously on
the pier and beat his breast. But his wife (she looked
about sixteen) seemed very happy that he was not to
accompany us. I thought that greatly to his credit,
and gave her a rupee for no reason at all, save that I
had so few that one less did not matter.
The ship was very crowded, — she had just come from
London. The native merchants made the deck-crowd
denser, and buzzed like flies in their last frantic efforts to
sell us something — anything. Each rupee that we were
taking away they felt a stain upon the record of their
ingenuity and salesmanship.
As Colombo faded from our sight, we planned to
return there on our homeward journey. But we said it
doubtfully — we had learned that the plans of nomads
are uncertain and changeable ; and we have not yet seen
Colombo again.
The Kaiser-i-Hind was full of English people, — army
people, civil servants, and their contingent of memsahibs.
There were three Americans aboard beside myself.
I am often called a bad American. I certainly am
not a rabid American. At times I am a bitter American.
When I am among a lot of nice English people, and have
the misfortune to meet the worst type of travelling
American, I wince.
One of the Americans on board was a man of whom
all Americans are justly proud ; he is a soldier (with a
great record), a gentleman, and a scholar. But not all
3 1

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
the soldiers that have ever come from West Point, not
all the scholars that have ever come from Harvard, not
all the gentlemen that' have ever come from Virginia,
could have wiped out our national disgrace upon a boat
that numbered among its passengers Mr. and Mrs. Frank
Hunter. They had been married two months. Whatever
inspired Americans of their type to select the Orient as
the scene of their honeymoon was, is, and always will be,
a dark mystery. But there they were, glittering caricatures
of our national life. There they were, amid a boat-load
of nice English folk.
Mr. Frank Hunter did not wear quite such loud clothes
as many of the Englishmen. But he wore them far more
noisily. A magnified chess-board is nothing to a certain
type of English officer in " mufti." But though they make
mistakes about their coats, they never blunder in their
behaviour, those English officers — English and Irish,
Scotch and Welsh, are they. But they are all gentlemen,
in public at least.
Mr. Frank Hunter's tailors were irreproachable ; but
his manners were simply shocking, — and English people
are so easily shocked. The English people on the Kaiser-
i-Hind quite forgot that there was a nasty something,
called mal-de-mer. They were as sick as sick could be
from the unavoidable proximity of the Hunters. I say
"sick" advisedly ; no other word would convey what I mean.
Mrs. Hunter, on the whole, was worse than her husband.
He sometimes smoked — rather frequently, in fact. When
he smoked he was silent. Mrs. Hunter did not smoke.
She was never silent, or, if ever, then only in the still
watches of the night, and no one had the benefit of it —
no one but Mr. Frank Hunter.
Mrs. Frank Hunter wore more diamonds at breakfast
32

MY FIRST 'RICKSHAW RIDE
than all the other women in the boat put together wore at
dinner. She dressed for dinner, but she dressed very high
at the neck, which I thought a great pity, — the dimples
in her chin told me that her neck was sweetly pretty.
She gazed with prudish horror at the well controlled
decollete of the English women. They gazed less openly,
but quite as disapprovingly, at her vulgar display of jewelry.
The abuse hurled by Mr. and Mrs. Frank Hunter upon
the Kaiser-i-Hind Commissariat was positively indecent.
I have been better fed at sea, several times. But the
ceaseless comments of the Hunters were far worse than
the food. There was no escape from the perpetual clatter
of their tongues ; but we were not forced to eat the food.
" Won't I just be glad to see my nice new brown stone
bungalow on Fifth Avenue ! " exclaimed the bride one
night at dinner. " Won't I have something to eat though !
Don't your mouth water for batter cakes every morning ?
And aren't you half dead for butter-milk ? " She was
speaking, to me. I felt very angry, because she hit upon
something we had in common. I am excessively fond
of butter-milk ; and, when we were housekeeping in
Australia, every Sunday morning that was cold enough,
my husband used to make me " batter cakes " if I were
good. But I could not bring myself to confess that I
agreed with that horrid little American in anything. So
I said nothing. She persisted, " Isn't America the nicest
place on earth ? Don't you just love it ? "
" America is very nice in some respects," I said softly ;
" and I should love my native land dearly, if there were
fewer Americans."
Mrs. Hunter did not say much to me after that. But
the relief was slight. She talked incessantly to some one
— to her husband if to no one else, and her sharp little
voice pierced to the utmost corner of the deck. Oh ! my
D 33

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
sisters, can't we be free without being vulgar ? Can't we
travel without becoming a reproach to our beautiful land ?
One night I left the dinner table early. If I had
stayed longer I should have thrown something at Mrs.
Frank Hunter, and that would not have enhanced the
women of America in the eyes of that boat-load of people.
I went on deck. The gentleman of whom I have spoken
— the American soldier who was the peer, at least, of any
Englishman on board — was leaning sadly over the rail.
" Are you ill, General ? " I asked him.
" No," he said, " but I am ashamed of being an
American ! Did you hear that dreadful person trying to
pick a quarrel with Colonel Montmorency, about the
relative merits of West Point and Sandhurst ? I stood it
until she told him that her Uncle Silas was a major of
militia and one of the best soldiers in the States. Then
I left." We sat down and tried to console each other. We
planned to petition Congress to regulate the class of
Americans who travel. We have not yet done so, but I
do believe that it was a good idea.
Mrs. Hunter kept up her vulgar, impertinent, irritating
remarks until we anchored in Diamond Harbour.
The last time I ever saw her, she and her husband were
standing on Chowringhee, gazing at the maidan. She
was ablaze with gems, as usual. The natives doubtless
thought her the European wife of a Rajah. They are, I
believe, the only class of European ladies who in India
in the day overload themselves with jewels.
" Frank darling," she was saying, " it ain't a patch to
Central Park, is it ? And their old Government House,
as they call it — it can't hold a tallow candle to the
Capitol at Washington, can it now ? "
I fled down Dhurrumtollah. 34

CHAPTER V
IN THE BURRA BAZAAR
We all grumbled when we were put off the boat at
Diamond Harbour, and were told that we must go to
Calcutta by train. The treacherous Hooghly was at the
moment unsafe for so large a vessel. Of course, every one
blamed the Steamship Company. But the very contre
temps at which we grumbled gave us a first view of Bengal
— a view that was extremely lovely. Our little train went
slowly through the peaceful Bengali country. It was
early sunset. Strange scarlet flowers hung from the tall
trees. Now and again a graceful bending limb almost
threw the long vine trails against our window frames, —
for the windows were open, and we were pressing against
the ledge as eagerly as our children. Here and there,
half hidden by the thick green trees and by the deepening
twilight, were square white tanks. Natives were bathing
in them. Their gleaming black shoulders emphasised the
silver water and the marble tanks. We passed cornfields
that, with a strange heart-throb, took us back to Illinois.
But the corn was not high for all that, and the gaily-
clad Hindoos, who were working in it, were as unlike
American darkies as they were unlike western farm
hands. " Come, come quickly ! " cried my husband, from the
35

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
other end of the carriage. I went very quickly, for it takes
wondrous much to make him " cry out." A few yards to
our left lay a smooth sheet of water. It was quite a
purple in the fast-fading sunset; and on its drowsy,
blushing bosom lay great masses of dappled water-lily
leaves, and on each leaf a great pink lily pressed. Thin
lines of crimson, great patches of pale golden green, broke
the purple sky. Tropical trees, heavy with white and
yellow bloom, hung over the little lake ; and on its white
and purple surface rested the pink water-lilies, amid their
green and gleaming leaves.
We passed great open spaces, and came to small
huddled villages. Little mud huts were squeezed to
gether in marvellous fashion. Men, women, and children
sat outside their low doorways, and the more prosperous
of the family groups included a calf. One had a long
wreath of orange marigolds about his pinky-white neck ;
and a jet-black baby, who lay asleep a few feet off,
was similarly adorned. The women were cooking the
all-important evening meal ; and none of them looked up
to see our unimportant European selves.
What a bedlam when we reached Calcutta ! It was
dark now, and the station was badly lighted. Our
advance agent met us, of course ; and when he had
assured my husband that everything was all right, that
he had done everything he had been told to do, he bundled
me and my babies into a gharri, the native servants
clambered on to the box, the roof, or caught on behind,
and we started slowly, if not decorously, for the Great
Eastern Hotel.
A steady drizzling rain had begun, and I could see
nothing through the misty gharri windows save indistinct
masses of oddly-clad and unclad humanity and dim
backgrounds of gray walls. 36

IN THE BURRA BAZAAR
We stopped at a huge white building. The servants
at the door took our arrival as a matter of course — if
I can say that they took it at all, for they paid not the
slightest attention to us. Mr. Paulding left his bearer
to wrangle with our charioteer, and we followed him up to
our rooms. An incredible number of coolies followed us,
carrying our small luggage. I remember one great giant
who groaned and wiped his brow when he unloaded
himself ; and yet he had only carried a cardboard
box, and it was empty but for an apology for a bonnet
that was made of two crape roses and half a yard of
Maltese lace.
My first discovery was that our rooms were large and
clean and cool. Then I made myself very comfortable
in an immense cane chair, and took my bairns into it
with me, all three of them.
Our native servants did not seem to do anything ;
but somehow I found my hat and gloves were off, slippers
had replaced my shoes, baby was drinking hot milk, my
boy and girl were munching spongecake, the luggage seemed
rapidly to be unpacking itself, and some one had given me
a glass of port wine and a plate of vanilla wafers.
" I wonder how they knew that I hate tea," I said to
Mr. Paulding. "They have wonderful intuitions, haven't
they?" "John told dem," said my small son briefly, very
briefly, for the spongecake was good.
I have known men more industrious than my husband's
picturesque Madrassi servant, John ; but I never knew
any man with a more considerate memory. He was not
indefatigable in doing hard work ; but he was infallible
in remembering what I liked to have done, and in making
other people do it. I sipped my wine, and sighed. It
was raining now in dense torrents ; and my husband was
37

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
still at the station, struggling with two of the great
problems of a strolling player's life — scenery and heavy
luggage. I released Mr. Paulding with the assurance that
we were entirely comfortable, and he rushed off through
the storm to help his chief.
John had found where the nursery was ; and he
marshalled the pretty procession of my babies and their
household out with a great deal of dignity. I sat alone
in the dim, cool room, and dreamed, and rested. Visions
of wild American plains came back — memories of
Australia, of Europe, and Canada ; I dreamed and dozed ;
and then I sprang up at the welcome sound of a footstep
I knew, in whatever quarter of the globe I heard it.
America, Europe, Australasia — they were behind me ; Asia
was before me. Another phase of our fascinating nomadic
life had begun. My husband came in at one door, very,
very wet. John came in at another. Behind him
walked a half- grown Mahommedan boy, carrying a
tray of the steaming tea my husband liked as much as I
loathed it.
" Salaam, sahib," exclaimed the newcomer.
John said something hastily, and the boy added :
" Burra salaam, memsahib."
In Europe I am more than indifferent to all the
woman's-rights movement. We have so many more
privileges than men ; and I am sure that I have all my
rights, for I never missed one of them. But in the East
I waged a long war for the equality of the sexes. Not
that I believe that women are men's equals — I don't ; my
observation has been to the contrary ; but I wish women to
be treated as men's superiors. Clever John had fathomed
my vulnerable narrowness ; and so he prompted the boy,
and the boy cried, " Burra salaam, memsahib."
" His name is Abdul," said John, as he drew an easy
38 '

IN THE BURRA BAZAAR
chair near mine. " He will be our khitmatgar. We will
pay him fifteen rupees a month. To-morrow I will find a
bearer, an ayah for the other missie baba, and an ayah for
memsahib." " Haven't we enough servants ? " pleaded my husband
feebly. John shook his handsome turbaned head.
" No sir," he said, '' we want many. One does very
little here."
John, like all Madrassis, was a natural linguist. But
he spoke unusual English, even for a Madrassi. He left
us to the ministration of Abdul. More than half the
servants we had in the East were called Abdul. This
was our first Abdul. He was a frightened looking child,
with long, lean, awkward legs, and great, lovely, brown
eyes. Presently John came back with three or four
nondescript-looking, almost garmentless coolies. They
carried on their heads chattees of steaming water. In
a few moments John came back again.
" The hot bath," he said. " It will be dinner in an
hour." When I went to dress I found John laying out a gown
for me. " What are you doing ? " I asked him.
" Miss Wadie " {i.e. my nurse) " is tired," was all he said,
and he began to sew a loose bow on to one of my slippers.
They gave us an excellent dinner, for which we were
unfeignedly thankful. The room was crowded, and there
was, of course, a babel of tongues. But the servants were
fairly quiet and only fairly slow, and the gravies were
distinctly good. As we left the dining-room, I saw a
strangely familiar black face peering at me through the
square window of a queer house-like place that was erected
in the hall. I paused involuntarily. It was a glimpse of
home. 39

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
" I'se right proud to see you, lady," said the dear old
black. I nodded to him and went on without speaking to
him. There was a ridiculous something in my foolish
throat. He had found me, and I had found him. How
he knew me for one of the countrywomen of his adoption
I shall never know, but to me every thread of his curly
white wool was eloquent of " de ole Virginie state."
I made friends with him the next day. His name
was " Uncle Peter Washington," and he had come to Cal
cutta, as I had, with a " trabbling show." The Ethiopian
histrionic combination of which Uncle Pete had been a
bright black star, had, after two brilliant performances,
succumbed to the tropical heat and the non -appreciation of
the public. Uncle Pete, like most Virginian darkies, was
versatile, and we found him installed as a Steward at the
Great Eastern. He used to send me dainties, not on
the bill of fare, and beg continually for " passes."
After dinner, although we were a little tired, we went
with Mr. Paulding to see the Corinthian Theatre, where
we were to play. We found it a surprisingly nice play
house — a little dirty, and rather empty of scenery ; but it
could be cleaned ; we had brought our scenery with us ;
and altogether it was an encouragingly possible place.
We went up the outer stairs of the adjacent house, and
met the local manager — a vivacious Frenchwoman. It
was late when we left her, but I coaxed for a little drive
through the streets, like the spoiled woman I was. The
rain had ceased ; the stars were almost dancing in the
sky ; and so, at night, I had my first good look at
Calcutta. We had strange half glimpses of odd, weird sights ;
we caught snatches of plaintive native songs, sung in
the monotonous Hindoo treble. 40

IN THE BURRA BAZAAR
Hamlet was to be our opening bill, and we were very
busy. But I, who am usually rather lucky, found time to
see a great deal of Calcutta. I ran errands, or rather
drove them, and that took me to a number of strange
places. I found my way to the native lumber yards. I
learned to bargain, in the vernacular, for timber. More
over, I learned that the only way to ensure its delivery at
the theatre, in time for the carpenters, was to see it loaded
myself; to see the bullock carts start, and to follow them
every inch of the way, until we passed up Dhurrumtollah,
and I halted my unique procession triumphantly at the
door ofthe Corinthian Theatre. I learned to descend into
the quarters of the dhursies and to return to the theatre
with a gharri load of sewing machines and tailors. I even
grew so expert in the Calcutta highways and byways
that I more than once pounced upon our dhobie in his
lair, and wrestled with him for the proper laundrying of
some treasured garment.
Best of all, I came to know the Burra Bazaar as few
Europeans have ever known it. We first drove there one
brilliant Sunday afternoon. A lady, who lived in Calcutta,
and Jimmie MAllister went with me. My husband
refused to go to the place, which he had been told was
aswarm with evil smells and more evil natives. He was
rather a dilettante sight-seer was my lord and master ;
and he regarded my inveterate prowlings as something to
be permitted on broad principles of personal liberty, but
never to be countenanced, much less encouraged. I was
an old habitue" of the Burra Bazaar before I could induce
him to go there with me ; and he never went but once.
The Burra Bazaar fascinated me powerfully. Day
after day I went there, when I should have been per
forming sacred social duties. The more I went to the
Burra Bazaar, the more I wanted to go. It held me —
41

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
called me in a thousand ways. What a drive it was from
the hotel to the outskirts of the Bazaar. We started in
Europe, and stopped in the heart of Asia ! Through
China the liberal into China the conservative, on to India
the wily, into India the tolerant, into India the dense —
the real ! Through Bentick Street, where the Chinese
shoemakers " most do congregate," into " Old China
Bazaar," where Fan Man sold silks that had been made
in the wonderful bamboo looms of Canton, dipped in the
huge vats of Chinese colour, beflowered by the deft needles
of the incomprehensible Mongolians. Fan Man was not
the proprietor of the only silk shop in " Old China Bazaar
Street." He had some dozen rivals. But national con
sanguinity is more to a Chinaman than trade vigilance —
I can say nothing more emphatic of Heathen John's love
for his Heathen brother man. While I sat in one Chinese
silk shop, the retainers of all the other adjacent silk shops
clustered about the apparently doorless doorway ; they
manifested every appearance of surprise at the unprece
dented bargains offered me by their fellow past grand
master of the brotherhood of selling. When I shook my
head, pushed aside the coveted masses of silken beauty,
and returned to my gharri (with a reluctance that was
disgracefully ill-disguised for an actress), they scurried
back to their shops with an agility that was more rabbit
like than Chinese. A Chinaman does not unduly urge
you to enter his shop. He is too dignified — too Chinese ;
but once in ! — Ah ! well, their wares were very lovely, and
very cheap, compared with all my preconceived standards
of price. Silk and such fabrics were not the only
commodities of the Old China Bazaar. Carved ivories,
painted porcelains, and bamboo everythings were in
emphatic evidence. And there were lesser stores of many
other articles. 42

IN THE BURRA BAZAAR
After Old China Bazaar we came upon the strong
hold of the nondescript Parsi merchants. What had
they for sale ? — What hadn't they ? A few among
many of their for-sale-offered commodities were second
hand American cook-stoves, tin boxes, topees, cardigan
jackets, broken sewing-machines, pickles, dried-fish, hand
punkahs, umbrellas, rusty music-boxes, artificial orange-
blossoms, Bibles, cigars, gin, toys, lamps, portieres, mil
dewed books in every known and unknown tongue, cod-
liver oil, and a few thousand other things. I even saw a pair
of skates there once, not roller skates, but really true skates.
Then the streets grew narrower ; they wound and
twisted in and out of each other and themselves. Great
gray houses towered thinly up toward the glittering sky.
Low, narrow doorways led into uninviting, windowless
booths. Fat, greasy babus squatted on the filthy little
verandahs, making up their books. Our gharri caught
and stopped. The street was too narrow. An incredible
number of natives were wedged in between our wheels and
the adjacent doorways. Beyond were multitudes of black
and brown humans — seemingly eternal multitudes ! The
gharri wallah and the sais got down, and a few dozen of
the crowd helped them to extricate our equipage. The
proprietors of the pitiful little shops clung desperately to
the wheels, shouting the praises of their wares into my
bewildered ears, and cursed the charioteers for not leaving
me for ever glued where I was, or, at least, until I had
emptied my purse and depleted their emporiums. We
went slowly and difficultly on, through the sickening,
pungent fumes of condiment shops, past great heaps of
chillies that made me sneeze and sneeze again. We saw
tons of buttons, miles of tinsel, crates of cheap wax beads,
infinities of shawls. The saries were without number ;
the piece-goods shops were numberless, and the varieties
43

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
of the other shops were as bewildering as the differing
wares they held, and the differing castes of the tradesmen
who shrieked the superiority of their merchandise with
all the frenzy of mad dervishes. Now and anon we
caught, through a narrow gateway, a glimpse of a dirty,
spacious courtway, where liveried servants slept on empty
boxes, and snored their allegiance to His Highness the
Rajah. Pigeons, thousands and tens of thousands, fluttered
over our heads, or flew down to demand the corn which
was never refused them. They looked at me confidently
with their clear red eyes. One fat fellow, I vow, was an
old friend of mine, in the days when I spent many sous
for corn to scatter on the Square of St. Mark. Perhaps
my head was a little dizzy with the crowd, the babel, and
the stench. I thought the pigeon spoke to me. This is
what I thought he said : " We're both grown since we
met in Venice. You have changed for the worse. You
used to wear bright blue plumage and bronze feet, and
you had long shiny ropes of hair down your back. Now
you've black feathers, and you seem a very ordinary sort
of person. But with me, everything has changed for the
better. ' How did I get here ? ' Oh ! a missionary brought
me over. But the missionary's wife was too fond of
pigeon-pie, so I flew from Alipore to here, the Burra
Bazaar. I am sacred here ; I can do what I like, and
have what I like. It will be a cruel day for me when the
missionaries convert all the Burra Bazaar." And then
the pigeon laughed, and added, as he winged away, " But
it won't be in my day — oh no ! "
When I had penetrated into some two or three of
the tall, empty-looking houses, and learned how packed
with treasure they were, I experienced an added delight
in merely driving by them, and thinking what silken,
44

IN THE BURRA BAZAAR
embroidered, bepearled loveliness lay in great piles within
those silent buildings.
The tortuous complications of the Catacombs at
Rome are nothing compared with the winding mazes of
the Burra Bazaar. I believe that I have seen every
corner of the Burra Bazaar. I know my way into it.
But my way out of it I never knew ; and I always shall
regard the natives who do know their way out as
exceptionally clever.
I have done a great many foolhardy things in Asia.
Proper European memsahibs looked askance at me, and
even my long-suffering husband remonstrated. One of
the two exploits which gained me the greatest disrepute
as a wild unladylike woman was going into the Burra
Bazaar at night. My husband was playing Rob Roy.
I was not quite strong, and my Scotch accent was not
considered safe. Consequently I was out of the Bill.
That was a rare event in my professional life. And I
made much of it. We were preparing for the Lady of
Lyons. That was a play that my husband had always
declared that he would never under any circumstances
play. He did play it in Calcutta, as a concession to the
local management. He now meanly says that he played
it to please me, but that is not accurate ; and, at all
events, he was in a fine rage over the whole business.
Claude Melnotte was not a gentleman he admired ; and
he used to say some very unkind things re the whole
play, which a more sensitive Pauline might have resented
as personal. " What are you going to wear, dear ? " I asked him
sweetly, at what I thought a propitious moment. My
gentle husband frowned.
"Wear!" said he. "I shall wear anything John lays
out; — a Roman toga, or Ingomar's furs, or Shylock's
45

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
gown, or anything else. You didn't for one moment
suppose I was going to buy anything for that fool of a
part, did you ? " I sighed.
" Then let us not play the piece," I ventured.
" Now look here, Jimmie," was his answer, " you know
you've wanted to play Pauline for years ; you know I'll
never have any peace until we do play it. So don't let
us say any more about it."
" But I don't want to play it unless the piece is nicely
dressed. I am having such lovely things made. You
must have some as nice."
" You're a very foolish girl to buy a lot of new things
for that idiotic piece," he said.
I went to the other end of the room. I sat down
and looked melancholy — as melancholy as a woman can
who has fully determined to have her own way. My
companion preserved a manly silence for at least three
minutes, then he said :
" Look here, Jimmie, how much money do you want ? "
" Oh ! none, thank you so much," I said as sadly as I
could, " all my things are paid for."
" How much money do you want to get my things
with ? "
" You are a dear, good boy," I said ; " and I'm sure
you'll make a lovely Claude."
Strangely the compliment failed to please. My lord
and master stalked out. But at dinner-time he gave me
a roll of rupees, on condition that I would not mention
Melnotte's clothes to him until he had to try them on,
and that he should only try them on once.
It was in connection with The Lady of Lyons finery
that I went into the Burra Bazaar at night, almost at
midnight. I had been searching for days for a certain
piece of embroidered pine-apple cloth. One day Caloo,
46

IN THE BURRA BAZAAR
my head dhursie, said to me, when he went away at
sunset —
" Memsahib want me finish Saturday, memsahib must
give rest stuff to-morrow. I not get I cannot make
finish." I was in despair. That night I drove my husband
down to the theatre.
"Are you going home? or are you coming in?"
" I am going to look once more for my pine-apple
cloth," I said meekly.
"Where?" Ah ! that was the question I had hoped to avoid.
" I'll try at the edge of the Burra Bazaar," I said. My
poor husband looked at me in despair.
" You must come in with me," he said. I went with
him, — obedient wife that I am. But when we reached his
dressing-room I began to argue with him gently. At last
we compromised ; which is about the best thing close
friends can do when they differ. I went to the Bazaar,
but a friend went with me, — a big blond fellow, who
looked the soldier he was, and whom half the natives in
Calcutta knew as a fierce " lal-coatie sahib." Dear friend,
he is dead now ! He was, a few months ago, a victim of
ignoble cholera.
I had some difficulty in making the gharri wallah
understand that I really wished him to drive to the Burra
Bazaar. But when he did understand, he drove stolidly
across Dhurrumtollah into Bentick Street. We stopped a
moment while my escort bought me an immense bunch of
spicy roses " to smell when we get into the Bazaar " ; and
while he was paying for it, a lame boy hobbled up with a
huge ridiculous cotton-wool lamb. That was bought also
" for the boy, if we ever come back." Down Bentick Street,
where the dexterous Chinese shoemakers plied their trade
47

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
by lamplight, beyond two noisy " Sailors' Rests," then into
the dark. Neither of us spoke. My friend afterwards
told me that he was a little anxious as to the outcome of
my mad escapade. I was expectant. Every door was
barred. Every house was dark. Asia was asleep. Where
thousands of chattering natives had crowded about my
carriage that very morning, not even a dog was to be seen.
We drove for over two hours. We passed, here and there,
a turbaned, belted policeman. Each looked at us with as
much amazement as a sleepy Oriental can display, and
salaamed. It was brightly, weirdly light now. The moon
was up, and the dusty deserted streets lay before us like
snow. We knocked at many doors, oftenest without
response. A few of the doors opened after a long pause.
A drowsy-looking native examined my bit of cloth by
the light of our gharri lamps, and shook his head. He
retreated behind his heavy door, shut and barred it.
We went on. Not once, but twenty times, that was our
experience. But long after I had quite relinquished all hope of
getting my pine-apple cloth, I insisted upon driving on.
The moonlight was so marvellous. It was so wonderful
to be one of the three or four awake among myriad sleepers.
One old merchant was more enterprising than the rest.
He had, he said, just what I sought. He went into his
house and was gone some twenty minutes. Then he came
out to us again. I leaned over the gharri with anticipatory
excitement. The old Hindoo drew from his sleeve a piece
of pale blue satin, on which two slippers were heavily
embroidered with gold and seed pearls. Very beautiful
they were in the midnight moonlight. I longed to take
them back to my good-natured husband, but I was too
vexed with the ancient Brahmin, who had brought me
gold embossed blue satin instead of cream embroidered
48

IN THE BURRA BAZAAR
pine-apple cloth, to deal with him. "Cedar jao," I
snapped out, and the patient horses went on. I forgot
my petty millinery vexation in looking upon the magic
high lights and the fathomless chiaroscuro made by the
white magnificence of the moonlight and the black splendour
of the old gray walls.
"What — oh! what is that?" I whispered, forgetting
my own vague musings and remembering my companion
suddenly. " That is a fakir chap. He has made a vow, don't you
know. His arm is paralyzed ; he has held it high up
above his head for a vow, and now it has grown that way.
It doesn't hurt him, but it looks jolly queer, doesn't it?"
An incongruously European clock struck midnight.
" Are you frightened ? " I asked my friend.
" A little," said the soldier, smiling ; '' and I am sure
your husband is more so."
" Not he," said I ; " he's singing ' Roy's Wife of Aldi-
valloch.' " But I added to the sais, " Nautch ghat jao."
Poor sais ! He was fast asleep ; standing bolt upright
behind us. I woke him, and sent him up to sit with the
gharri wallah.
" I wonder why that fakir was the one native out at
midnight," I said, as we returned out of the unknown moon
light of Asia into the familiar gaslight of cosmopolitan
Dhurrumtollah. My friend smiled involuntarily, but he
said nothing.
" Oh, I know what you think," I said, with a woman's
swift, safe impertinence. " You think that he was hunting
pine-apple cloth to offer to a new god."
" Or something equally important — to him."
That was a mean remark ; so when I saw my husband
come from the Corinthian Theatre archway, I turned un
gratefully upon my companion and said :
E 49

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
" ' Fie, my lord, fie ! a soldier, and afeard ! "
" Are you all right ? " said my husband.
" Oh yes," said I. " Did we have a good house ? "
Once afterwards I went into the Burra Bazaar at night.
It was Sunday, and my husband was dining with some
men. I ordered the gharri at ten. Maggie, my pretty
little Madrassi ayah, came out to see me into the carriage.
" Kither, memsahib ? " said the salaaming sais.
" Burra Bazaar jao," I answered.
Maggie caught at the gharri door, " Memsahib, no, no,
not go — must not go," she cried. " No safe, much harm."
" Nonsense, Maggie," I said rather roughly ; " go in to
your missie baba. Cedar jao, Gharri-wallah."
We had left the hotel, and were living in a bungalow.
The drive to the gate was long and winding. When the
durwan swung open the gate, a woman ran out from the
shrubbery. Maggie pulled the gharri door open and
climbed in.
" I go please with memsahib," said the girl.
" Aren't you frightened ? "
" I more frightened stay safe bungalow, know mem
sahib gone harm."
Maggie sat opposite me. Her hands were meekly
folded upon her saried knees. When we passed into the
dark, questionable streets of the native quarter, Maggie
did what she had never done before — she came and sat
beside me. The dark grew denser : she covered my
miserable, useless little hand with her great, faithful, black
hand. A pigeon cried ; and a sick woman, lying inside
one of the tall, mysterious houses, moaned. Maggie was
trembling. " Bungalow jao, sais," I said.
A lady, who had lived most of her life in Calcutta,
said to me one night, at a rather crowded dinner table ;
5o

IN THE BURRA BAZAAR
' Is it true that you went into the Burra Bazaar with only
native servants and at midnight ? "
" Almost true," I replied. " It was an hour or more
earlier." " What a horrid thing for you to do ! " was the frank
rejoinder. I was too sorry for my hostess to answer my gentle
critic ; but what tales I could have told of her in Paris !
Some people do indeed believe in the forgiveness of
sins, if they are conventional ones.
A friend, who knows me well, said to me recently :
" How can a woman, who is so over-timid about most
things, do so many foolhardy things ? " As a matter of
fact, I am a great physical coward. But I have never felt
afraid of the natives among whom I have gone so peculi
arly ; nor do I believe that I have ever been in the slight
est danger. As far as the Burra Bazaar was concerned, I
am sure that I was as safe as a queen surrounded by a
loyal army. The Orientals are not prone to kill the geese
that lay golden eggs. I spent too many rupees and too
constantly for the thrifty storekeepers to have seen harm
come to me. Then think of the hubbub that would have
been raised if one European woman had been murdered,
as I was often told I would be ! A terrible punishment
would have been meted out to my gharri wallah and sais.
They were bound to protect me, and so was every Hindoo
of their caste. I often left the gharri, and went where it
could not go ; but I noticed that, unless I had my ayah
with me, the sais always followed me. I was inveterate
and tireless in my prowlings in the Burra Bazaar. I saw
strange sights there, and smelled strange smells. I never
received an uncivil look, much less a rude word.
I had great fun several times in the Burra Bazaar.
Where the press of humanity was most dense, I used to
5i

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
take a rupee from my purse, and, holding it up, ask, " What
will you sell for this ? " Oh ! how they rushed about me !
What strange bargains they offered me ! And how good-
natured they were. They whined and begged and prayed,
they pushed and jambed each other against the gharri
door. They called me " Mamma '' in the most persuasive
tones. But when my choice was made, they fell back and
salaamed and laughed gleefully as I drove away.
My husband went with me to the Burra Bazaar once —
once only. We were going to play Our Boys. To my
horror, my husband elected to play Perkyn Middlewick.
I begged him to play Talbot ; but he was caught by the
idea of playing a part so entirely new, in every way, as
Middlewick would be to him. The rehearsals began, and
he grew quite infatuated with his part. He began to plan
elaborate costumes for poor old Mr. Middlewick. I
pretended to not quite understand the kind of brocade
that he wanted for a beautifully brilliant vest. In that
way I inveigled him into going with me into the Burra
Bazaar. He sniffed at Bentick Street ; but he had been
there before. With the Bazaar itself he was unmitigatedly
disgusted. When we reached the silk shop he broke
into open rebellion.
" How do you get in ? " Sais pushed open a narrow
door. A flight of steep, shallow, almost perpendicular
steps were all that we could see, and we could only
half see them. They were innocent of railing ; they
went through space in the simplest way ; and the only
concession to light-headed mortals was a questionable-
looking rope that dangled from the floor above.
He caught my arm : " You are not going up there !
We'll get our necks broken, or, at the very least, be
robbed." " I have been up there very often," I urged ; " and there
52

IN THE BURRA BAZAAR
is no other shop where we are so likely to get what you
want." I went up, and he followed me gingerly. The room,
into which we crawled rather than walked, was about ten
feet by twelve. Four Brahmins sat upon the floor ; and
the glass cases that lined the walls from ceiling to floor
must have contained some thousands of pounds worth of
silk, of crepe, and of embroideries. There was a chair in
the room ; it had not been there when I paid my first
visit, — I flatter myself it had been bought for me, and
doubtless out of my money. The proprietor of the shop
pushed the chair an inch in our direction ; he placed a
mat beside it, and left us to decide how we would divide
them. We stayed a long time in the tiny room. The
presence of a man inspired them to bring out their choicest
treasures. What exquisitely beautiful things they showed
us, — soft priceless crepes, thick pliant satins, matchless
embroideries ; they tempted my companion even more
than they did me. We found the very piece of pathetic
ally ridiculous brocade that he wanted, and he was as
pleased as a boy.
Getting down the stairs was more than getting up
them had been ; but we accomplished it with assistance.
Our drive home was very slow. My comrade stopped
every few moments to buy some outrageous article. " I
shall never come here again in all my life," he said ; " do let
me enjoy myself." It was a quaint gharri load of mer
chandise we carried back to the Great Eastern. Even the
stolid durwan looked amazed.
A few hours later my husband said to me, " Tell me
truly, do you really, honestly like to go into that
place ? "
" Honestly, I love it." 53

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
He gazed intently at me for a few moments ; then
he said, " You are a wonderful woman."
Which showed that the Burra Bazaar had enriched his
understanding even more than it had impoverished his
purse.

54

CHAPTER VI
A CHRISTMAS DINNER ON A ROOF
Is it only three years ago that we ate our Christmas
dinner on the roof of an old Calcutta palace ? How hot
it was ! The starlit sky was murky and shimmering.
The air trembled and throbbed with the electrical heat.
But when the plum-puddings came in we had to stop the
punkah wallahs ; the swing of their big hand punkahs
blew the flaming brandy out. The Major had been
saying nice things to me through all the courses. He
was so polite and attentive that he only had one of his
Bombay oysters, — the khitmatgar thought that his master
did not want the others, and whipped up the plate. He
was a Madrassi, was the Major's khitmatgar ; he liked
oysters, and he had no stupid, superstitious theories about
Europeans defiling food. The Major never touched his
sweetbread ; and he missed most of his biscuit glace. Yes ;
he was self-sacrificingly courteous. But when the hand
punkahs stopped, he leaned back in his chair and drew
his handkerchief across his brow, with the air of a man
who would continue his polite attentions if he could, but
really could not.
It was rather a home- sick little Christmas party.
English people are very apt to be home -sick when
Christmas finds them out of England. We two were not
55

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
home -sick; we were the two strangers — the two new
comers ; and yet we were the most content of any there.
We were nomads, gipsies, strolling players. We had
learned to carry our home in our hand-satchels, and in
our hearts. Our wandering life had broadened and
deepened our cosmopolitanism as much as it had sharp
ened and quickened our patriotism. We had lived so
often in a tent ! and we thought that palm-decked, star-
canopied old roof the pleasantest possible place to eat
our Christmas dinner. I was especially happy. I always
love to eat in the open ; and this old roof that lifted me
high above the crooning Calcutta streets, and seemingly
half-way to the stars, had lifted me into a warm, spicy
atmosphere of high delight. It was a pretty scene. The
white -clad servants moved" softly; the adjacent houses
were very quaint with minarets and intricate arches,
strange latticed windows and droll roof- gardens ; the
deep perfumes of Oriental flowers came up from our host's
garden. Everything was richly Oriental except the
table at which we sat and feasted. That was as English
as a very ingenious hostess could make it. Great satin
roses were woven in the damask of the table linen ; in the
centre of the cloth lay a large silken Union Jack ; on it
crouched a bronze lion ; he was resting on a bed of roses.
Around the flag was a loose wreath of holly and mistletoe,
and we each had a bit of mistletoe at our plates. I saw
the subaltern's lip tremble a bit when he put his sprig in
his button-hole, — that was very weak and babyish of him,
was it not ? Yet strangely enough that boy has won high
military honours since then. I was greatly interested in
him at the time, because he was the first subaltern I had
met in India ; and I had heard so much about subalterns
before I reached the East.
The Major and his wife, our host and hostess, we had
56

A CHRISTMAS DINNER ON A ROOF
known well in Italy. I had been delighted to dine with
them ; and now, that the dinner was almost over, I was
congratulating myself on having had so pleasant a time.
The plum-puddings had caught properly, and the
breath of the punkahs came upon us again as a new sen
sation of delight. They fanned the creaming wine until
the ice tinkled against our thin glasses, until the cham
pagne frothed and bubbled in a perfect tempest of con
viviality. " Do you know the history of this old palace in which
you are living?" I asked the Major.
" No," he said ; " or at least very little of it. A mighty
Nabob lived here once. This roof garden, where we are
now, he had made very lovely for his favourite wife. She
was of a higher caste than his. Her stepmother, who
hated her of course, had given the girl to the Nabob in
the father's absence. The girl's father had gone up to
Peshawar, I believe, to buy camels. It was a year or
more after the Nabob's marriage that the girl's father
came back to Jullundar and found his favourite child gone.
The stepmother said the girl was dead ; but the servants
told the old man the truth ; so he killed his treacherous
wife and came to Calcutta to find his daughter. Well, he
found her on this very roof. Now a Hindoo girl who
weds beneath her caste is degraded for ever, — she has be
come a pariah, an outcast, and all her family are defiled.
So the old Brahmin — he was a Brahmin, of course — took
out his knife and plunged it through his daughter's sari
into her heart. And she cried ' Salaam ' and died ; and
he went away rejoicing."
" But how did he get in, and how did he get out ? "
demanded the subaltern. " Aren't the women's quarters in
a Nabob's palace better guarded than that ? "
" Sir, those are details, mere details," snapped the
57

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
Major. "Were you not taught at Sandhurst that the
subaltern is shot at sunrise who asks his superior officer
for details ? "
The subaltern saluted (with a walnut shell in his
fingers) and fell into the conversational background.
" It is quite true, the story, Mr. Howard," said the
Major's wife ; " only my husband is telling it so badly."
The Major went on smoothly. " When Abdul came
back  "
" Who was Abdul ? " asked an exacting civilian.
'' Abdul was the Nabob," said our host curtly.
" Oh ! " said the civilian, " I thought perhaps you
meant my bearer ; his name is Abdul."
" When Abdullah returned," continued the Major, " and
found his favourite wife dead, he tore his beard and cast
his turban at her feet. Then he went into the women's
quarters — the part of the palace where the other wives
lived, for the dead girl-wife had had apartments of her
own. Abdullah had not been in the women's quarters
since his last and happiest marriage. His wives gathered
about him ; they fell at his feet and kissed them. He
raised them up kindly. He gave them wine to drink, and
in each glass of wine he put three three-grained morphia
pills. When they had all fallen into the sleep from which
he knew they could not wake, he rose up and went, say
ing, ' Allah, I had ceased to love them, but I have killed
them gently, that they shall feel no pain when they burn
upon my funeral pile.' He went back to his dead girl-
wife. He laid a satin cushion beneath her head ; he
strewed sandal-wood dust upon her, then he borrowed a
scimitar from a eunuch and died."
" I had no idea that the Hindoos were such good
husbands," said the pretty American girl who sat on the
other side of the subaltern. 58

A CHRISTMAS DINNER ON A ROOF
" Might I be allowed to ask," said the subaltern, " as a
guest, whether  "
But the Major's wife had looked at me and smiled, and
as we rose, he jumped to his feet and rushed to the filmy
portiere that hung across the archway which topped the
garden steps. They were broad, white, marble steps, well
called garden steps, for they led from the artificial roof
garden into the great wild place beneath, where mangoes
and roses, palms, ferns, and tuberoses crowded amongst the
tangling wood-flowers of Bengal.
" Gather all you want," my hostess said, as I paused,
spell -bound beside a bed of strangely sweet flowers.
" Gather all you like, but don't ask me the names."
" Oh ! I know what those are," said the American girl
who had come down behind the rest of us. " They are
mogree flowers. The nautch girls wear them in their hair
— I saw them at Amritzar. When the girls dance, the
flowers perfume the air ; and if a very big man — high-
caste or rich I mean — comes in, they throw mogree
flowers at him."
We strolled on through the shapeless grounds, — we two
Americans. She pushed her pretty dimpled arm through
mine. " Does it not seem very strange to you to be 'way
off here in India ? " she asked me.
" My life has been so strange," I said, " that nothing
seems strange to me, unless I am in a very thoughtful
mood, and then life seems so inexplicable that everything
seems strange."
We were standing by a funny little square basin of
water. Oriental moss broke the outlines of its marble
sides. Strange coloured lilies slept upon its breast Here
and there a lantern of Japanese silk dotted the mangoe
trees. Hattie tapped the warm marble with her little blue
slipper. " Isn't it pretty ! " said the girl, pointing with her
59

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
big blue eyes to the roof that we had left. It certainly
was very pretty. Through a break in the palm trees we
could see our host and his men guests. They were
smoking, all of them, but they seemed rather thoughtful.
Above them, swung on invisible wires and on rope vines,
were innumerable Japanese and Chinese lanterns. My
eyes lingered lovingly on the soft yellows and the clear
purples of the pretty illuminated paper balls. Above all
glittered the matchless stars. " I think that I should like
to live in India," said the girl at my side, softly ; " wouldn't
you ? "
" I love my life almost anywhere," I said, turning from
the fountain to pull a mogree flower. Then I kissed my
young country-woman in the moonlight. I regard kiss
ing women as more to be condemned than giggling girls
and crowing hens. But some strange wave of tenderness
welled over me for the maiden at my side.
When the men and the coffee came down, sweet
tinkling music crept to us nearer and nearer from the
shadow of the trees. A band of native musicians had
been engaged — for our sake I fear, — they were such an old
story to the Anglo-Indians there. I crept among the
trees to examine their barrel-like drums and their
indescribable string instruments. Mine host and mine
husband followed me. We came back by the little lily
pond. The subaltern and the American girl were there,
looking at the lilies so intently that they did not see
us. " There is something remarkable about American
women," said my English husband, with slow impertinence.
" A man goes half mad until he gets an American wife,
and then he'd give half the world to get rid of her."
" Yes," said the Major, " I regard the influx of American
women into the British ranks as the chief danger that now
60

A CHRISTMAS DINNER ON A ROOF
threatens our forces. I do not understand their apathy at
the War Office, and at Westminster."
I pelted my two tormentors with mogree flowers, and
we went back to our hostess, leaving the young people by
the lilies. It was very late. The native musicians had taken
their big bukshish and gone. A few faint streaks of light
replaced the faded stars. It was almost morning. We
heard the tramp of men ; we caught the martial rhythm
of a good old English carol. The privates of our host's
regiment were coming (those of them who could sing) with
the bandmaster at their head — coming to serenade the
major's lady.
They sang with a right good will. When they broke
into " Rule Britannia," the bird-like soprano of the pretty
American girl rose shyly above the strong heavy voices
of the men. She had come back to the old mother
country, as so many American women do, led back by
love. It was morning. India seemed to have shaken off
night, oppression, superstition, sorrow. And as the full,
big glory of the day broke, the soldiers stood at attention
and sang — with husky voices some of them, " God save
the Queen." And in the distance, through the air, some
one or something breathed the dear old tune of " Home,
sweet Home."

61

CHAPTER VII
ORIENTAL OBSEQUIES
A Hindoo Burning Ghat
The arch-devil death is so unconquerable a foe that the
veriest atheist must easily find it in his heart to forgive
the theist who has invented the consolatory theory of
immortality. If we believe death to be but the imaginary boundary
between two lives, then death ceremonials become very
inconsequential. If we believe death to be the end, the
last sad rites assume a terrible significance. Strangely
enough, the most elaborate funeral customs prevail among
the staunchest believers in an after life. But then man
kind always has been inconsistent. Man is born of
woman !
In the East I learned something of the post-mortem
customs of five races : the Chinese, the Hindoo, the Parsi,
the Burmese, and the Japanese.
We are apt to think ourselves very advanced — we who
are beginning to believe in cremation. The Hindoos have
practised it for thousands of years.
The funeral pile of a Rajah sometimes costs lakhs of
rupees. In Calcutta I have seen a body burned when
three rupees covered the entire expense.
62

ORIENTAL OBSEQUIES
The rich Hindoo may be somewhat exclusive. The
Hindoo masses do everything simply and openly. They
bathe out of doors. They pray out of doors. They cook
out of doors. They die out of doors, and their bodies are
burned out of doors.
There are three burning ghats in Calcutta. The first
we visited was the cheapest and most primitive of the
three. It was also the most interesting ; for it was the
most eloquent of the Hindoo populace.
It was a longish drive from our hotel to the burning
ghat, but the last half, or more, of it was crowded with
interest, for it was along the bank of the sacred Ganges,
and thousands of devout Hindoos were worshipping.
Only a mile or two inland was Government House,
upon the gates of which crouch two colossal lions — in
stone. The British lion is more manageable in stone than
in alien jungle flesh. The British lions of the Calcutta
Government House gates are very impressive, but it is a
rare thing to see them without native crows perched insol
ently upon their hard heads. Inside those gates all was
a subdued, well-bred hubbub, for Lady Lansdowne
was to hold a drawing-room that night. Anglo-Indian
Calcutta was athrob, — European dressmakers and native
dhursies were exceedingly busy. Here — where we were,
on the banks of the Ganges — were myriad human crea
tures to whom Government House was but an architectural
intrusion. They were enrapt in the observance of their
racial customs ; and, to them, our European customs were
less than nothing. It was a little like a country fair — and
greatly unlike. I learned then and there that specialisation
was not a nineteenth century development. The banks of
the Ganges were divided into booths, not by walls, but
by occupational differentiation. We stopped — our under
fed horses were glad to stop — we stopped and watched a,
63

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
to us, meaningless dance. I thought it more awkward
than suggestive. That may have been because I was
ignorant of its religious meaning. Then we saw a hundred
people clustered about a naked fakir. His unbarbered
hair was braided into disgustingly many plaits. His
brown 'face was painted a ghastly white. He lay naked
upon innumerable spikes (they were dull-edged spikes),
and as he bled (in reality he did not bleed ; he balanced
himself so beautifully), the surrounding Hindoos prayed to
Kali, and praised the fakir. We saw enchanted pigs.
We passed inspired fortune-tellers. We stopped to water
our horses at a sacred fountain, — I can't imagine to what
it was sacred, for I saw our disreputable steeds drink from
it, and I saw many to-the-core afflicted lepers fill their
chattees from it. A pile of common stones based the
fountain. The lepers touched them reverently with their
hopeless stumps. It is perhaps well for the human
intellect that " Hope springs eternal in the human breast."
When the gharri wallah and the sais said we had
reached the burning ghat, we found our inquiring minds
intercepted by a crude brick wall. I have said that the
Hindoos burn their dead in the open, — that is true ; but
in Calcutta the Hindoo has grown thrifty, and he hedges
his burning ghat with a wall the closed door of which is
sternly suggestive of bukshish.
The sais pounded upon the door with the butt of the
whip, kindly loaned by the gharri wallah. An old Hindoo
(he was sucking sugar-cane) opened the door, after a
dignified pause. We gave him a rupee — deferentially,
and passed in. I stumbled upon something, and
gave a dainty little European shriek. The something sat
up and rubbed its eyes ; it was one of the burning ghat
coolies, and it had been having a sleep. I marked the
holy mud thrice with my Louis Quinze heels, and I stood
64

ORIENTAL OBSEQUIES
beside a smouldering funeral pile. A crack — not unlike
the report of a pistol — drove me back. The heat had
broken through the dead man's skull. Our brain is our
best servant, or our mightiest master, in Europe ; in the
land of the Hindoo, it or its casement is the last human
part to protest against the extinguishment of death.
The funeral pile of a poor Hindoo looks very like an
ordinary kitchen-yard wood pile. But if you go up to it
— close up to it — you discover something very like a human
form — a glowing charred mass, but proudly distinguished
from every other shape, animate and inanimate. In the
East I tried to look at things reasonably ; not from
any exaggerated sympathy with the subjugated native,
but because I wished to get from the East the utmost
available information and mental capital.
When I pulled myself together, after shrinking from
the first funeral pile I had ever seen, a phrase flashed to
my memory — " Purified as by fire."
That is just what the Hindoos do. They purify
their dead by fire. The body is burned until absolutely
nothing remains but a handful of ashes — ashes wholly
free from any unclean or poisonous matter.
A second body was brought in. Two coolies carried
it upon a rude litter, woven from coarse grasses, and held
together by outlines of bamboo. Two of the dead man's
brothers followed, chatting pleasantly.
Four stout sticks of wood were driven upright into the
ground at the corners of an imaginary parallelogram,
about six feet by two. Between these four posts were
loosely lain sticks of dry, cheap wood. When the pile
was a little more than three feet high, the body was laid
upon it. A dirty piece of crash, of the quality the coolies
wear about their loins, partly wrapt the dead. One of
the brothers stepped up and poured about four ounces of
F 65

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
oil over the body. This ensured a quicker cremation, but
was something of a luxury, and not a universal practice.
The oil must have cost about three pies. The other
brother paid the coolies, who shouldered their light empty
litter and marched gaily out. More wood was piled upon
the dead. A thin stick was lighted at the other funeral
pile, which was now flaming finely ; the second pile was
lighted, and the cremation of the newcomer was begun.
The two brothers appeared very interested in the igniting,
and decidedly pleased when it was accomplished. They
squatted down upon the ground, just so far from the pile
that they might feel that their scant, filthy garments were
fairly safe from the sparks, but near enough to watch
all the changing phases of the cremation, and to see easily
when it was consummated.
They untied a dirty rag from about a small bundle
one had brought with him. They took out a small earthen
bowl ; it was clean and shining ; and so was the brass
chattee each lifted from his filthily-turbaned head. The
chattees held water ; the bowl held curry and rice.
They fell to eating with gusto. And pray why not?
They were eating to live. Their brother was burning to
live — to live in Hindoo Paradise. From the Hindoo
point of view his state was far the more blessed ; and
from all I saw of coolie life, I am not inclined to think
their point of view wrong.
While the dead burned and the living ate, I looked
about me, and thought. I must not claim to have felt
much ; it was all too strange to me for feeling to be less
than numbed. My first observation was that my husband
and the friend who was with us had withdrawn from my
near vicinity, in the meanest manner. There they stood,
on the very edge of the Ganges, and with their two brave
backs squarely turned to the interesting rite we had come
66

ORIENTAL OBSEQUIES
some miles to witness. When I say the Ganges, I mean
of course the Hoogly, which is one of its mouths, and
therefore as sacred to the Hindoos. I thought at first
that they were smoking, because I have noticed that my
husband usually is smoking when he escapes an appreci
able distance from my side. They were not smoking ;
and our friend afterwards confided to me that they were
discussing " the present condition of European politics,"
but discussing it languidly.
Then I saw that the cremation, which had been in
full blast upon our arrival, was completed. There were
two distinct kinds of ashes. The human ashes were
carefully gathered into an old chattee. The authorities
do not allow those ashes to be thrown into the river, and
I understand that they never are thrown there in the
presence of Europeans. The ashes of the wood were
swept swiftly away. The bits of wood not quite burned,
were frugally collected to be utilised in the next pile.
The two men had finished their curry and rice. They
began to play some native game of chance. They used
pebbles for the game itself, and splinters from the adjacent
funeral pile did nicely for counters.
The men — my European men, I mean — came back
and said that they would like to go home. So we went
Life is so hard for the poorer natives of India that it
is not surprising that they take death so coolly. They
have so little to live for ; they live so difficultly, so
miserably, so inadequately, that to them death has ceased
to be a devil, and has become, instead, an angel of deliver
ance. The most satisfactory acquaintance I made in Calcutta
was with a physician whose father was a Scotsman and
whose mother was a very high-caste Hindoo woman.
Aside from my personaj liking for the man, I found him
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
satisfactory because he could, and did, explain Hindoo
customs to me exhaustively, and also in terms intelligible
to my Europeanly-developed mind. A few nights after
we were first at the burning ghat we asked him how an
attempt to introduce Western crematory arrangements
would be received in Bengal. He shook his head. He
personally would welcome the innovation (he, by the
way, was a Christian) ; he felt sure that some of the
better circumstanced, better informed Hindoos would also
welcome it ; but the Hindoo masses would resent it
bitterly. The attempt would be foolish, I think. Why
force upon so strongly conservative a people a reform for
which they have absolutely no need. Would it serve any
good purpose ? I think not. It would do nothing except
widen a breach which we, for many reasons, should do
our utmost to heal.
To me, the system of the Hindoo burning ghats, of
which I saw every detail, was not nearly so repulsive as
the system of the Parsi Towers of Silence, of which I
only saw the outside, and could but too well imagine the
inside. I wish the Parsis would abolish their method of
disposal of the dead in favour of another method, as
sanitary, but less revolting. But the Hindoo custom
seems to me entirely commensurate with the Hindoo
needs and the preservation of the general health of India,
I went to the burning ghat once at night. Night
is the time of Hindoo leisure, as indeed it is of most
native peoples. The enclosure was crowded with burn
ing piles. One night we sailed down the Ganges. The outlines
of the attendants of the dead and of the funeral piles were
sharply silhouetted, against the black background of the
dark night, by the flames of the gruesome death fires ;
and from that part of the shore sacred to Hindoo worship
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ORIENTAL OBSEQUIES
came the shrieking and the songs of many thousand half-
mad devotees.
In a primitive part of interior India, I once saw a
Maharajah's funeral pile. It had cost a positive fortune.
It was built of expensive spicy woods and saturated with
costly oils. It was richly gilded ; and the dead was
wrapped in embroidered silken sheets. For an incredible
distance the air was sweet and pungent and thick with
the perfumed smoke.
I remember having thought when a child that the
literally sweetest experience I ever had had was the
attending of a High Mass at St. Peter's in Rome. But
now I must own that the sweetest smell I ever smelled
was the burning of a Maharajah's funeral pile.

69

CHAPTER VIII
ORIENTAL NUPTIALS
A Hindoo Marriage
To Hindoo women, marriage is of even more importance
than it is to women in general. Indeed, I know no race to
whose women it is more important ; for marriage is the
sum total of a Hindoo woman's existence. She has no
interests beyond her home, no possibility of outside
compensation if her marriage is a failure.
Even conventional, conservative India is beginning to
throb with nineteenth century restlessness and Occidental
changeableness. There is a great deal to be said on both
sides of the burning question of child-marriages. I pro
pose to say none of it, but to confine myself to a descrip
tion of a Hindoo marriage that I witnessed at Jubblepore,
— confine myself without commenting upon the race
theories of which it was a ceremonial expression.
Children are still married very young in India. But
the custom is not clung to, save by the ultra orthodox
Hindoos. I have known three sisters to be married in
one month, in a high-caste family. The eldest was
sixteen, the youngest was eight. A Hindoo girl is in the
full bloom of womanhood at sixteen.
The marriage I saw was between Brahmins of a strict
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ORIENTAL NUPTIALS
caste ; and I believe that the only unorthodox detail
was my presence. I went in the early morning to
the bride's house. She was a slender, pretty girl of twelve.
The bridegroom (who had not yet arrived) was an intelli
gent fellow — five years her senior. Twelve and seventeen
years of age mean very much more in the East than in
the West. This marriage happened to be a love match. I should
think that that is now true of nearly half the Hindoo
marriages. The children of the caste play freely together,
and their baby likes and dislikes develop with their quick
development. Family love is very strong among the
Hindoos. And the children have rather large influence
with their parents. Hindoo girls are, I believe, rarely
reluctant to marry. Indeed, they reminded me of a line
of Byron's. They seemed more in love with the prospect
of marriage than with any particular prospective husband.
It was my observation — which was, I must say, not ex
haustive — that few Hindoo marriages are unhappy. The
same has been claimed, I understand, by some partial
writers, for les mariages de convenance of France.
The first duty of Hindoo bride and bridegroom, on
the Chief Day or wedding day, is ceremonious ablutions.
It was after that duty had been fulfilled that I arrived at
the bride's home. For many days ceremonies dear to
the Oriental heart had been taking place. But they were
fashionable rather than religious. They were self-granted
indulgences of a ceremony -loving race, and in no way
augmented the validity of the marriage, which was secured
entirely by the ceremonies and the oaths of the wedding
day, prescribed by the Shastras.
It was some time after my humble entrance that the
splendid arrival of the bridegroom occurred. He came on
horseback, as a Hindoo bridegroom should, and he was
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
surrounded by all his relatives and friends, which was the
acme of Hindoo good form. By the bye, — a high-caste
Hindoo is as polite as a Japanese. Courtesy is as much
the religion of a Brahmin as of a Japanese. But Hindoo
courtesy is less celebrated than Japanese courtesy because
it is less graceful (though not less picturesque), and because
it is not, as it is in Japan, common to high and low.
Politeness is the sign of a Hindoo gentleman. It is the
birth mark of every Japanese — from the Mikado to the
humblest coolie.
I do not know which was the more gorgeous — the
Hindoo bridegroom or the dark roan horse he rode.
Certainly, the bridegroom looked the more important.
The steed seemed bored, which showed a most ungrateful
spirit, for never yet was horse more sumptuously capari
soned. Beneath his shaggy, unkempt mane he wore a
red strung necklace of glittering jewelled talismans ;
about his neck was a triple row of native gems, and
similar jewelled braids marked his face into wonderful
parallelograms ; upon his head was proudly placed an
inverted feather duster, such as European ladies use for
treasured bits of bric-a-brac, which the parlour- maid
may not touch. The decoration of the unappreciative
animal's tail was gorgeous and unique. The saddle-cloths
were beautiful in detail, if not in shape ; they were
exquisite specimens of old, orthodox Hindoo embroidery.
Hindoo customs are changing very gradually ; Hindoo
art is unchanged and unchangeable. It has developed ;
it has not been modified. The saddle-cloths were stiff,
broad ovals, heavy with pearl-specked, gold embroidery ;
they were edged with red, silken fringe. Above the
saddle-cloth rose a golden, swan-shaped saddle. En
throned upon it sat the bridegroom. Over his head a
servant held a wonderful red and yellow umbrella ; two
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ORIENTAL NUPTIALS
fan men followed close, holding the quaintest fans I ever
saw ; the sticks were of carved silver, and the fans,
shaped like antique spear-heads, were made of odd painted
glass, deftly embroidered here and there with jewels, and
edged, as was the fan and all of the horse's caparisons,
with elaborate fringe. The four servants were dressed as
Hindoo servants should be, in Hindoo livery. The bride
groom wore wonderful brocaded clothes ; his eyes were
thickly ringed with khol ; his lips were flaring red with
betel-nut ; his velvet cap was heavy with embroidery ; his
jewelry was abundant and glaring. In brief, it was in all
ways a most correct Hindoo marriage procession. His
people followed him with beaming faces, carefully arranged
costumes, and foreheads smeared with the paint and ash-
marks of high-caste Brahminism.
We clustered about the door to bid him welcome —
the bride's mother in front, and the closely veiled red-clad
bride next. The mother received with many ceremonies
the dismounting bridegroom. The bride ran shyly
forward and pinched his foot. That was in warning that
he might find married life full of vexations. But he
smiled with proud superiority as he salaamed elaborately
to his girl-bride.
We followed him into the house. The bride's father,
crying out to the gods that he would honour and
receive well this Snataka who had come to ask a
maiden's hand, offered the young man a seat — offered
it with many words of welcome and compliment. The
bridegroom sat down, after calling the elder Brahmins
everything that is honourable, superior, and admirable.
Then they performed the peculiar worship of the " blessed
and kind waters," the girl's father providing all the
impedimenta of the ceremony. The elder man offered the
younger a tray of sweets, called madhuparka. The bride-
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
groom called upon the gods to partake of his noble father-
in-law's bounty. The gods did not do so — that I could
perceive ; but no one seemed disconcerted, and the
bridegroom ate a little himself. The host called to a
servant to bring a cow. The bridegroom protested that
the cow was an innocent and useful animal, and entreated
that its life might be spared. The elder Brahmin
conceded this ; which ended the welcoming ceremony,
which is called madhuparka, after the sweet which is given
to the bridegroom. Many years ago it was customary, at
a Hindoo wedding, to sacrifice a cow and distribute the
fresh beef.
Then came the Kanyd-ddna ceremony ; the giving of
the bride by her father to the bridegroom. The bride
and bridegroom sat together, facing the east. Near
them, but facing the north, sat her parents. The father
"' worshipped " the young couple ; and all the guests called
upon the gods for a thick shower of blessings. The
priests handed the father sacred grass and water, and then
they prayed with him, in Sanskrit. Then the old Brahmin
rose up, and placing the girl's hand in her lover's, but
with a blade of grass between them, said solemnly to the
bridegroom, " She is no longer mine ; she is thine." The
bride's mother pronounced glad consent. Then the young
Brahmin, holding his wife tightly by the hand, and look
ing at her, but speaking to the gods, said, " I entreat you,
oh my gods, to bless and prosper the gracious man and wife
who have given me this most sweet gift." A priest drew from
between the clasped hands the blade of grass. The mar
riage was irrevocable. They were man and wife for ever.
Then the proud young husband, looking very manly
and handsome, said to his bride, clearly and earnestly, words
that I thought very sweet, although they were partly
prescribed. " Moved by the gods, the great god Varuna
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ORIENTAL NUPTIALS
has given you to me, oh my dear, that I may know
ambrosial happiness. Your father in giving you to me
has given me his very life. You are my life of life." He
laid his slim brown hand upon her veiled right shoulder.
" It is Love that gave this, Love that received it. O
Love ! all this is thine. My bride, enter thou the Ocean
of Love ; I accept thee out of Love. Thou art rain ; the
heavens give thee, the earth receives thee." Are not
those beautiful words ? They are prescribed, truly ; but
so are the words of our marriage service.
Then came the Kautukdgdra ceremony — the prettiest
part of the marriage. I was allowed to see it, as a great
concession. The young husband and wife went, with a
priest and a number of Hindoo maidens, into an inner
room. This room is strangely painted, and is called
Kautukdgdra. The bride tied a love -knot on her
husband's wrist, and he did the same to her ; then he
drew the veil from her dimpled brown face and kissed
her ; then he replaced the veil with a soft silken sari,
that he had brought as a gift to his bride, but the little
glowing face was left uncovered. The priest took a bit of
red string and tied together the garments of husband and
wife, and placed a crown of tinsel, of gold, silver, and jewels
upon her head. A prayer was made by the bridegroom
— a prayer that their hearts might grow into each other ;
and while he prayed, he painted, with collyrium, his
bride's eyes, and she painted his. Then he gave her some
droll presents, which he produced from a mysterious
somewhere among his own garments. I noticed a
porcupine -quill and a looking-glass. Then he tied
about her neck the marriage string. It is an odd neck
lace — a cord upon which a strange mel6e of trinkets are
hung. It is called the tali. It is worn by all married
Hindoo women. It is almost if not the only thing that
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
I have never known a Hindoo woman to pawn. The
tying of the tali ended the Kautukdgdra ceremony. We
returned to the other room.
The Vivdha-homa or marriage sacrifice began. The
young couple sat upon a primitive, flower-decked altar.
Then the priests poured ghee-libations to the invisible
gods. Then the bride's father anointed her head heavily
with ghee, saying, " Become thou the sovereign ruler
over thy father-in-law, over thy mother-in-law, over thy
sister-in-law, and over thy brothers-in-law " — a very
liberal invocation ; but I thought I observed that, in
the majority of high-caste Hindoo families, it was most
frequently fulfilled. Hindoo women are very potent
members of Hindoo society, and in home life they are
often supreme. I know many Hindoo men who are
extremely devoted to their wives, and consider them
before all others.
The young husband was rash enough to confirm his
father-in-law's large prophecy, and added to the bride, " I
take thy hand that thou mayest live with me as thy
husband, for a long time ; the gods Bhaga, Aryama,
Savita, and Purandhi have given thee to me that I may
be a householder. Soma gave thee to Gandharva, Gand-
harva gave thee to Agni, and Agni gave thee to me with
wealth and sons. As in the word Sdma the syllables
Sd and ama are mutually connected and interdepend
ent, so are we ; I am ama, thou art Sd. I am the
heavens, thou art the earth. As a Sdma. verse is related
to Rik of which it is composed, so am I to thee ; then
shouldst thou follow me. Like these pairs, let us marry,
produce progeny, obtain sons ; may they be many and
may they live long."
Then they performed the ceremonies of As'ma'ro/tana
and Mangal Fe'rd. Near the altar burned a sacred fire.
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ORIENTAL NUPTIALS
About it lay a circle of stones. The bridegroom caught
his wife's hand and said, " Come lady ! place thy foot on
this stone, and be as firm as it is. Resist whatever is
evil." He stooped down and placed her right foot upon
the stone. Together, but he preceding her, they went
round the fire, treading carefully upon the stones. Back
to their seats they went. The bride gave an oblation to
the fire, her husband saying, " This woman prays that she
may be pleasing and helpful to her relatives, and that her
husband may live long." The little bride was looking
very important, but oh ! so tired. Four times they went
round that flaming fire. Four times she gave an oblation,
and he repeated his little speech.
Then they performed a ceremony which, when it was
explained fully to me, I thought very significant. It was
called Saptapadi, or " taking seven steps." Seven heaps of
rice were laid upon the floor, near each other, slanting
toward the north-east. Again the bridegroom took his
wife's little brown hand. She put her foot upon the first
heap as he said, " Take the first step and become the
partner of my drinks." On they went, she stepping on
each little rice heap, he saying, " Take the second step and
become the partner of my food." " Take the third step and
become the partner of my wealth and prosperity." " Take
the fourth step and become the partner of my good
health." " Take the fifth step and become the partner of
my cattle." " Take the sixth step and become my com
panion in all the seasons." " Take the seventh step and
become my friend."
That ended the serious part of the long complicated
ceremony. The newly married twain fed each other
solemnly from a bowl of sugar ; and then grave ceremonial
gave way to mirth and noise. Presents were made to the
priests. A feast was served ; and an excellent feast it
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
was. They gave me some, but I had to eat it apart ;
with them I might not sit, nor eat, — even the courtesy
of a high-caste Brahmin failed before such a desecration
of caste purity. All night long trumpets blared, shrill
native fifes shrieked, drums and wild songs rent the air,
and great fires flared up to heaven, making the big clumps
of slender bamboos look red.
I fear I have been tedious ; I hope I have been clear.
A Hindoo marriage is an intricate performance. I have
not described it entirely. The religious ceremonies were
supplemented by many others that were customs, not
observances of faith.
The vows of a Hindoo marriage are most beautiful.
Unfortunately they are repeated in Sanskrit, and the
bridal pair rarely, if ever, know Sanskrit. Let us hope
that they know the meaning of the words they utter
parrot-like. Certainly young children are as ignorant of
the sense as of the language. I have seen a Hindoo
bridegroom of five — a sweetly pretty boy he was.
But the ritual of the Hindoo marriage ceremony,
whether it means much or little to the celebrants, can, at
least, show us what the great founders of mighty Hindoo-
ism meant Hindoo marriage to be. And it behoves us
to understand the spirit, the essence, of Hindoo life before
we alter it by the right of might — I mean the might of
right. Moreover it behoves us to know how Hindoo
usages work. Child-marriage is revolting ; but I have
heard Hindoos make one or two tiny points in its favour.
I saw something of Hindoo home-life, and I thought
that it was, as a rule, devoted and happy ; I know more
than one eminent Hindoo to-day who is beautifully
under his wife's little brown, be-ringed thumb.
The Hindoo women cling to their racial customs far
more pertinaciously than do the men. I knew several
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ORIENTAL NUPTIALS
delightful Hindoo women ; they despised me, but they
were very kind and courteous, and I admired them ex
ceedingly. One of them was a woman of great intellect
ual strength and commensurate culture. One day she
said to me, " What is this ' woman's rights,' of which so
much you talk ? " I disclaimed any share in the epidemic
that had attacked so many of my sisters, and then I
explained to her the movement as eloquently as I could,
and as justly as a woman was able to do who despised
that of which she spoke.
" I see," she said, turning her great, languid eyes on
mine ; " they would have us renounce an immense, veiled,
real power, for a little apparent power ; they would make
us lose our power over men, to have, of ourselves, and our
lives, the little control that men do have of themselves and of
their lives. In Europe, women who are not strong, think
too much, talk too much. The big thought in the little
brain will not go, only one part of it. And the sound of
their own voices it makes them mad."
Nothing so surprised me in the East as did the upper
class Hindoo women — their content, their position, and
their enormous influence. The men of Ind are compara
tively easily converted to our social modus operandi. We
underrate the strong opposition we will encounter from
the Hindoo women.

79

CHAPTER IX
KING THEEBAW'S STATE BARGE
We went from Calcutta to Rangoon. In Burmah the
shadow of a great personal sorrow fell upon us. Our
reminiscences of Burmah are too sad and too sacred to be
put between the covers of a book. But there is a great
deal that is interesting that I may try to tell about Burmah
before I catch up my little personal narrative in China.
Burmah has almost unprecedented natural wealth.
Minerals, woods, marbles, and gems are in Burmah in
seemingly inexhaustible stores. Useful vegetation springs
in spontaneous plenty from the pregnant soil. Nature
does almost everything for the Burmans, and yet, Orientals
though they are, they are exceptionally industrious. The
palmyra tree leaf gives them paper. Butter, sugar, and
flour, or their substitutes, grow on trees. Game, fish, fruit,
and vegetables are most abundant. And yet they work —
the men and women of Burmah — work with a will and to
a right good purpose.
The marvellous pagodas, that are the artificial glory of
the Burmese landscape, represent all that is best in
Burmese art, all that is most persistent in Burmese
industry. They are indescribably beautiful, with their
huge, graceful, jewelled peaks and their lace-like, golden
carvings. Lepers swarm at their gates. Heavy, pungent
80

.KING THEEBAW'S STATE BARGE.

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KING THEEBAW'S STATE BARGE
flowers are scattered before their thresholds, and often
beneath their shadows lie the full cemeteries of the
Europeans. They dot the Burmese landscape like huge
jewels — do these matchless pagodas, and their sweet,
swinging bells and singing gongs break the Burmese
silence with clear, tinkling music.
Except the " monkey-slipping-tree,'' almost every tree
in Burmah is festooned with a creeper, — such wondrous
creepers ! About the tree trunks glide snakes, pythons,
lizards, chameleons, scorpions, and deadly centipedes. In
the river wallow gruesome alligators.
King Theebaw is no longer in Burmah ; but Burmah
is foul with his memory, and the more odious memory of
his chief queen, Soo-pyah-lat
Theebaw came of a race in which insanity had found
many a victim. The kindest thing that can be said of his
reign is that it was the reign of a madman. But for
Queen Soo-pyah-lat there is no such possible excuse ;
her brain was as clear as her heart was bad.
Theebaw was married to three wives ; they were
sisters, and were named Soo-pyah-gyee, Soo-pyah-lat,
Soo-pyah-galay ; but Soo-pyah-lat was the real queen,
the chief queen, and she ruled her two sisters as well as
Theebaw's concubines, or "under wives."
Opium, wine, and liquors were forbidden to the king's
subjects, but not to the king. His potations were so deep
that they will be remembered when he is forgotten.
" The King is still drinking." No one thing has ever
been said oftener of any one monarch than that was said
of the notorious Theebaw, King of the Burmans, Suzerain
of Mandalay, King of the Rising Sun, Lord of the White
Elephant, the Golden Umbrella, and Lord of Earth and
Air. If one tithe of what has been during the last twenty
years written about King Theebaw is true, if a fraction of
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
what they now say in Burmah of him is true, why then a
worse monarch never sat in absolute power upon a
barbaric throne.
It is a strange fact that the Burmese — the pleasantest,
most easy-going of all nations — were ruled for centuries
by a cruel bloodthirsty dynasty. The predecessor of
Theebaw, King Mengdon, seems to have been rather gifted,
but he was shifty and treacherous. King Theebaw —
unless Christian literature has wronged him as it never
yet wronged heathen prince — had every bad quality and
no one redeeming one. His orgies, his debauches, the
stories of his " posture girls," are unequalled in the
chronicles of a continent of which many lurid things have
been written.
Things were certainly fast and furious while Theebaw
ruled Mandalay. But I doubt if King Theebaw ever did
rule at Mandalay. Queen Soo-pyah-lat was the veritable
potentate ; she ruled Theebaw. He had an abundance
of wives, but when he showed any special favour to any
wife other than Soo-pyah-lat, she promptly had that other
wife trampled to death by the royal elephants, or killed in
some other equally pleasant way. Then she would, most
probably, take King Theebaw in their state barge for a
little post-dated lune de miel. Theebaw seems never for
an instant to have resented, disputed, or resisted Soo-
pyah-lat's supremacy. It was Queen Soo-pyah-lat who
hated the British with an intensity beside which ordinary
Asiatic hatred was nothing. It was Queen Soo-pyah-lat
who forced Theebaw to hold out against the English
forces, long after resistance was worse than vain. On the
first of January 1886 King Theebaw was finally and
absolutely overthrown ; but before that date he had
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KING THEEBAW'S STATE BARGE
How often have the eyes of all England been turned
toward that wonderful palace at Mandalay ; and almost
invariably the wires flashed to the nations this message :
" The King is still drinking." Yes, the king was still
drinking. Before his gin-filmed eyes swayed the lithe
forms of the flower-decked " posture girls," and the palace
yard ran blood — the blood of many victims. Wonderful
Burmese carvings glimmered and glinted on the palace
walls, and the big gems rose and fell on the bad queen's
breast. To me there is something very pathetic about the
story of King Theebaw. He was born to a great oppor
tunity. He became the ruler of a most charming people,
the absolute master of as interesting and as beautiful a
country, and as productive, as any on the globe. And his
manhood went down beneath a bad woman's jewelled
foot — he sold his kingship for a hogshead of grog ; and
wherever his name was spoken, men said with disgust,
" The King is still drinking."
When Theebaw ascended the throne in 1878, an
eminent Englishman wrote of him : — " He is little over
twenty. He is a tall, well-built, personable young man.
He is very fair in complexion, has a good forehead, clear
steady eyes, and a firm but pleasant mouth. His chin is
full and somewhat sensual-looking, but withal he is a
manly frank-faced young fellow, and is said to have
gained self-possession and left the early nervous awkward
ness of his new position with great rapidity."
Ah, what a different appearance he presented when
he was dethroned in 1886 ! In eight short years he had
committed or countenanced atrocities that entitle his
name to be bracketed with the names of Nero and Caligula.
It is happy for Burmah that Theebaw and Soo-pyah-lat
are gone for ever. The industrious, happy natives eat
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
their morning, noon, and evening rice under a gentler, if
an alien, rule. But what pictures they must have made
in the days and nights of all their glory — the weak bad
king and his strong bad queen !
Think of them in their state barge. It was a picture
in itself. Great golden gods gleamed and glowered on
the segregated prow. One of these indescribable metallic
majesties rode upon a grotesque golden horse ; and gods
and horse had for eyes jewels of incredible size. Upon
the deck was a house of precious woods. It rose pagoda
like, and was crowned with a big gem which, fastened to
a strong, slender wire, flashed, above the barge, like a
heaven-sent star. Rare journeys they must have had up
and down the lovely Burmese rivers. There are three
great rivers in Burmah. They rise in the high mountains,
where the snows never melt, and they take their wonderful
course to the Indian Ocean. Trees crowd on their banks,
— trees that are golden and red and purple with fruit, and
yellow- and white with blossom. The scents of mangoe
and pine mingle with the fainter perfumes of the orange
and papaya and plantain. Wild asparagus lifts its slim
feathers everywhere. Yams and sweet potatoes grow in
wild plenty. Down to the river's edge for drink come
huge elephants and the fierce one-horned rhinoceros.
Sleek leopards and striped tigers fight with the wild hog,
and hunt the Indian roe and the axis. Wild-cock, quail,
pheasant, and partridge scurry among the scented under-
bush ; and great peacocks spread their wonderful fans amid
flowers that are brighter.
Small wonder if Theebaw and Soo-pyah-lat loved to
drift up and down those wonderful rivers.
It would be difficult to exaggerate the beauty of the
Burmese river banks ; I should like to slip between them
on such another boat They lay on soft crepey cushions,
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KING THEEBAW'S STATE BARGE
did Theebaw and Soo-pyah-lat. They had dainty fare of
green turtles' eggs and esculent swallows' nests ; they
ate strange salads made of the succulent stems of many
aquatic plants and of shrubs ; they dipped their jewelled
fingers into big carved bowls of pickled tea ; they
skinned and ate odd Oriental fruits ; they moored their
glittering barge, and caught the big dates from off the
graceful tamarind trees. Green and purple parrots whirled
in the moonlight ; and the blue jays winged their graceful
way, haply unconscious that they must die to feather
with their splendid azure the state robes of Chinese
mandarins. Perhaps they landed sometimes to wander hand in
hand through the forests of priceless teak. Perhaps
Soo-pyah-lat rejoiced in the immense masses of gorgeous
yellow flowers, and in the huge leaves that measured
twenty inches from stem to tip. Perchance they called
their attendants to cut a hole in some huge oil tree, and
light in it a fire, and watched the oil flow, that they might
realise again how great in natural wealth Burmah was,
and how spontaneously she yielded up her treasure to
her sons. When the great tree — it was one hundred
and eighty feet high, and its circumference was sixteen
feet, — when it was emptied of its oil, it was split into
long torches ; and by their weird light the king and
queen went back to their waiting boat.
Wherever Theebaw walked, over him was carried the
great white umbrella. Umbrellas are the stars and
garters of Burmah — the coats of arms — the insignia of
rank. They are not carried as a protection against rain,
but as a proclamation of degree. The white umbrella
was sacred to Buddha and the king. Only over the
head of a statue of the god ard the head of the king
could it be opened. To the princes of the blood-royal
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
belonged the gold umbrella. And every class had its
umbrella prescribed of shape and hue.
I do not know which is the more wonderful, the
pagodas of Burmah or its creeping canes. The latter are
sometimes three hundred feet long. They make splendid
ropes ; and out of them the deft Burmans and defter
Chinese make all conceivable and many inconceivable
things. There are immensely valuable mines in Burmah whose
locality was only known to Theebaw, his queen, and their
few most trusted ministers. When Theebaw was con
quered, just eight years ago, he did not betray the
placement of those natural treasure stores. We have
been hunting them ever since, but without success. It
has been recently mooted that Theebaw might be induced
to disclose to us their whereabouts. If the spirit of
Soo-pyah-lat whispers in his ear, he will ask a big price
for his knowledge.

86

CHAPTER X
ORIENTAL OBSEQUIES
Burmese Burials
The Burmese are very philosophical. They have no belief
in another life ; but they make the most of this one.
They take everything very easily — everything but death ;
they hate to die. That is natural on the part of a people
who enjoy life so thoroughly, and who live in such a
pleasant, sunny land. I have seen a Burmese funeral train
in a gale of merriment, but I have never seen a Burmese
man or woman who was willing to die. They are not
afraid of death ; but they are unutterably saddened by it.
The Burmese are a tender-hearted, affectionate race, and
the most affecting deathbed parting I ever saw was
between a Burmese man and his dying mother.
A Burmese village burns ; the entire property — all
the belongings of the inhabitants, are destroyed. The men
set to work and build a theatre on the smouldering ruins ;
the women gather plantains from the nearest tree, until
their silk potsoes are full ; the pretty Burmese children
climb the trees and drop the yellow fruit down into their
pretty mothers' out -held garments ; the men complete
the impromptu theatre while the women roast the fruit.
Then they eat, and wash their meal down with brook-water,
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
with laughter, and with song ; then they bathe their hands
and lips in the nearest stream, which is sure not to be far
away ; then they have a theatrical performance ; and so
console themselves for the loss of their homes and their
little earthly all. But, for the loss of a relative or a close
friend they are never consoled. They grieve quietly —
which is very un-Eastern — but they grieve persistently.
When a Burmese dies, messengers are at once sent to all
his friends, no matter how far off those friends live. And
all the friends hasten to bid farewell to the body, to arrange
for the funeral, and to console — as best they may — the
bereaved family. All the expenses of a Burmese funeral
are met by voluntary gifts.
I have often thought the Burmese the cleanest people
on earth ; certainly they are the cleanest people in the
East. They wash their dead with great care, and several
times. The last water used is scented. The Burmese do
not believe in immortality, and yet, like all of us who are
disbelievers, in whatever part of the world we live, they
fight their own unbelief, and, when death touches their near
and dear, they indulge their hurt hearts with many a little
ceremony inconsistent with their scepticism. For instance,
they place in the mouth of their dead a little coin called
" ferry hire." They believe, or try to believe, that death is
a river, and that the waterman requires pay. How the
superstitions of the world repeat themselves ! How the
Greek imagination dominates the imaginations of all the
gentler peoples.
The body is placed on an uncovered bier, which is laid
just out of the house door. There it remains for three days ;
but it is never left alone. Then the body is laid in the
coffin. The priests, looking very like copper-coloured
Capuchins, come to conduct the dead to its last resting
place.

PAGODA ON A ROCKING STONE NEAR MANDALAY.

Page 88.

ORIENTAL OBSEQUIES
The funeral procession, unlike those of any other East
ern people, is formed largely of vehicles. The Burmese
carts are very odd, and are fittingly picturesque adjuncts to
the most graphically beautiful landscape in Asia. The
carts are drawn by great, handsome oxen. They have two
immense wheels, and an indescribable top. The back
of the cart is curved. The Burmese perch themselves on
the seat of their native vehicles in some mysterious way.
These carts form the first part of the funeral procession.
They are decorated with queer primitive flags and flat
paper umbrellas. The beautiful oxen are usually festooned
with flowers ; but when they are to be included in a
funeral procession, the flowers are taken off them. This
they often resent ; for they are by no means devoid of
vanity — these huge gentle oxen of the East.
After the waggons walk the priests, not less than
twenty or thirty. They carry liver-shaped palm-leaf fans,
and the umbrellas peculiar to their priesthood. They
carry rosaries, as do all Chinese priests. The Burmese,
who have many of the Mongolian features, always seemed
to me to be the Chinese grown beautiful.
After the priests walk or ride the mourners. They
are dressed in white.
Then comes the funeral cart. It is shaped like a
house-boat It is covered by a softly coloured silk canopy,
and it bristles with umbrellas and pennants.
The close of the funeral procession is of a nondescript
character. It is a catch-all for waggons, not en regale, for
priests and friends crowded out of the procession proper,
and for stragglers. By the time the procession reaches its
destination, the irregular cortege behind the funeral cart
is very apt to be twice or thrice the length of the regular
cortege that precedes the carriage of the dead.
When the train halts, the coffin is lifted carefully from
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
the waggon. It is placed upon the ground, on the spot
designated by the priests. Then water is poured over the
coffin, while the priests chant. The Burmese set great
store by water. It is almost their only beverage ; and
water must be an important item in the daily life of a
people of such exquisite neatness. They have a yearly
Water Festival. It begins on New Year's Day, and con
tinues for nearly a week. At daybreak on New Year's
Day the Burmese go to the nearest of their wonderful
pagodas. They throw water upon it, and pray for a
plentiful season. A jar of water is presented, with great
ceremony, to the head priest of the pagoda, and with a
prayer that any wickedness they may have committed
during the past year may be forgiven. Then they have
a splendid romp. Most of the Eastern peoples play like
children ; and the Burmese are the most frolicsome race
in the Orient. They drench each other with water ; and
he who gets wettest confidently expects the most good
luck for the ensuing year. The missionaries say that this
is a primitive expression of the theory of the cleansing of
sin by water. It reminded me of the New Year's customs
of the Chinese. Every Chinaman, who possibly can, pays
all his debts on New Year's Day. What a festival for the
Chinese tradespeople ! It reminded me even more of a
German habit. On New Year's Day German friends who
have quarrelled forgive each other. No Burmese feud can
continue after the principals have drenched each other
nicely with water at the Water Festival. The analogy
would be more perfect if the Burmese were more quarrel
some or the Germans more peaceful. The Burmese very
rarely quarrel among themselves.
After the pouring of water upon the coffin, alms
are given to all the poor present. Then every one is
given a dish of pickled tea (by the way, pickled tea is
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ORIENTAL OBSEQUIES
rather nice — far nicer than pickled cabbage). Other
ceremonies follow — all of a quiet, dignified character.
Then the body is burned — usually in the coffin. The
funeral procession slowly wends its way back. The
priests guard sacredly the smouldering pile. Three days
later the relatives return and gather up the ashes. Very
occasionally the ashes are put into urns ; but as a rule
they are buried.
That is a Burmese burial : the burial of human ashes.
On the tenth day after the burial a great feast is held
in honour of the dead, and as an attempt at cheering
the bereaved relatives. A Burmese feast is a very pretty
sight. The meal is usually spread on a very low table,
about which the diners sit — sit on the floor of course.
Sometimes the meal is eaten out of doors. Then the
bowls of food are arranged on the ground. The dishes
are intertwined with strings of fragrant flowers. The
Burmese string the blossoms of the sweetest of their
flowers on long threads, and make slender, perfumed
flower-ropes, which they wear about their necks, twist
among their hair, hang over their doorways, and with
which they decorate their tables.
Nothing could form a prettier picture than a number
of Burmese in festival dress. Their flower-twined heads,
their lithe, graceful bodies, deftly wrapped in delicately-
hued silks, their sleeves of embroidered net, and their
jackets of flowered velvet or of brocaded silk, are enhanced
here and there by milky pearls, by curiously carved gold,
by quaintly wrought silver, by softly blue turquoise, and
mystic moonstones.
Rice is the mainstay of Eastern life. It forms the
chief ingredient of every Burmese meal. The Burmese
make delicious curry, but they eat less curry than the
other Eastern races. They call their three principal meals
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
" morning rice," " noon rice," and " evening rice." A
Burmese feast begins with " sea-swallows' nests soup." It
is wonderfully nourishing. The people of Burmah are
professed vegetarians. But I have eaten both fish and
flesh when the guest of a Burmese lady, and I believe
that both are eaten by all the people, not excepting the
priests. Certainly elaborate meat and flesh dishes are
conspicuous at a Burmese feast, and on every Burmese
table are big jars of pickled tea. They serve an abundance
of savoury yellow cakes and of fruit. They have a hot
salad of cooked vegetables, including " ladies fingers,"
" bringel," tomatoes, and bamboo tips. There are only
three courses to an ordinary funeral feast — I. Soup.
2. Meats, rice, vegetables, etc. 3. Cakes and fruit.
Each viand is put on the table in one large bowl, out of
which every one present eats (as you or I should have
done had we lived in the time of Chaucer) with their
fingers. While they eat, they drink a great deal of
water. After they have washed their hands and lips
they smoke. All the Burmese smoke — men, women, and
children. I have seen a mother pacify a child, who cried
for the breast at an inopportune moment, by giving him
her cigar, and the baby made a rather successful attempt
to puff it. The Burmese cigars are very large, but they
are extremely mild. They are made of a large green
native leaf. They are so gentle that I often wondered
why the Burmese were so fond of them. Perhaps it is
well that their cigars are so gentle and nicotinless, for the
Burmese are the most inveterate smokers in the world,

92

CHAPTER XI
ORIENTAL NUPTIALS
Burmese Bridals
In Burmah, marriage is not a failure ; it is a stupendous
success. The Burmese women are sweetly pretty. They
have dainty ways and happy faces. It would be very
ungrateful of them to be less than happy, for they hold
a position unique among the women of the East. I
know of but one other race of women who are upon so
entire an equality, socially, legally, and financially, with
men as are the Burmese women, — the American woman
is as free as the Burmese woman, but no more so, — the
best type of the most typically American women I mean.
The women who are only half American, the women in
whose families old European customs are family law, are
not nearly so free as the pretty women-folk of Burmah.
There is no religious ceremony connected with a
Burmese marriage. The Burmese do not regard marriage
as a blessing ; and yet I know no other country in the
world in which so overwhelming a proportion of marriages
are extremely happy. I never knew a Burmese husband
and wife to quarrel, and Europeans who have spent many
years among the Burmese tell me that such quarrels are
almost unknown. This may be, in part, because the
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
Burmese are dowered with kind, easy-going, affectionate,
faithful temperaments.
The Burmese are tenderly devoted to their children.
A common love of little children cements many a broken
marriage, strengthens many a real love — the world over.
But I believe that the reason of reasons for the universality
of happy marriages in Burmah is the sensible way in
which marriage is undertaken and the just way in which
it is carried out. We women of Europe cry out for en
franchisement — cry with shrill, sharp voices ; and I fancy
that the more liberty we get the more unfeminine we
grow. In America, we are sadly spoiled, I fear. We
have grown fond of cushions and of sweetmeats. The
Burmese women teach an invaluable lesson — if the
women of America and the women of Europe would learn
it They are on as absolute an equality with men as
nature will permit. All the equality that man can give
woman he has given her in Burmah ; the women of
Europe can not well ask for more. But if the women of
Europe get all the equality that they want, will they wear
it as delicately and with as much dignity as do the
heathen women of Burmah ? I fear not. The Burmese
women are as graceful as the women of Japan ; as gentle,
as lovable as the women of Denmark ; as vivacious as the
women of France ; as capable as the women of America,
and as feminine as the women of England at their best :
the women who do not aspire to do man's work and
neglect their own. The women of Burmah accept
gracefully the limitations of nature, — that is the great,
great lesson they can teach the women of England.
The limitless consideration of the Burmese men for the
Burmese women has not enervated the women of Burmah.
The Burmese women, though they never bustle, are never
loud-mouthed, are never slovenly, yet are — within reason-
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ORIENTAL NUPTIALS
able, intelligent limits — the most energetic, the most
industrious women in the world. Petting has not spoiled
the women of Burmah. That is the great, great lesson
they have for the women of America.
The marriage yoke rests as easily upon the Burmese
necks as a wreath of roses — for the man and wife pull
equally, pull together. Each does his or her fair part.
Each remembers always the rights of the other. Courtesy
and justice are big ingredients in Burmese married life.
Small wonder that in Burmah marriage is a big success.
If the position of the Burmese women is unique, the
position of the Burmese children is unparalleled and almost
indescribable. Filial piety is almost as much a matter of
religion in Burmah as in China. On the other hand,
parental coercion is more unknown in Burmah than in
the United States. Burmese children never disobey, but
Burmese parents almost never command ; family affection
is very strong in Burmah. But the law of love is the only
law known in the home circle. When a girl reaches a
marriageable age — when she has reached young-woman
hood and feels inclined for the greater womanhood of mar
riage — she very simply places a light in her own particular
casement ; then the would-be Benedicts gather about her.
Night after night they " call." Night after night she and
her parents receive them. The Burmese women are
always most careful in their toilets ; but at this period
their care becomes superlative. The Burmese women are
always pretty ; their taste in dress is exquisite ; and when
a Burmese maiden lights the invitational lamp and sits
down to await her suitors, she makes a picture of pretty
humanity, of which we women of Europe may well be
envious. " Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay."
I wonder if that is true. It is musical, it is big with
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
poetry. It pointed a great truth as Tennyson wrote it.
It fell from his pen a truth. But take it alone, tear it
from its high place in English literature ; of itself, by
itself, is it true? I have doubts, petty perhaps, but
forcibly pertinacious. The marriage question — that El
Dorado of the farthing-a-liners — Ah ! there is no marriage
question in Cathay. The women of the East are married,
and they find their happiness in marriage — -they never
analyse it They know as little of elective affinities and
of natural selection as do the perfumed flowers of the
Orient. Perhaps they know as much. It is a very fine
thing to discuss marriage in all its imperfections, it is far
finer to experience it in all its perfection. And the women
of the Orient, who never talk of marriage because they are
not enough advanced, experience it and seem to find it
rather perfect. What has the world given women, what
has civilisation, education, given them ; what can life give
them better than marriage ? Nothing ! The past gave
us nothing, the present gives us nothing, and in the
mysterious bosom of the future lies for us no greater
benison than marriage. Sneer senseless men and unsexed
women, but that is truth, Nature's greatest truth !
The Burmese maiden who desires marriage, and tells
it through her pretty lamp, is not over bold, nor does
she seem so to her countrymen. The Burmese regard
marriage as so much a woman's greatest right — they so
entirely believe it to be her highest and best career — that
the girl who announces her readiness for marriage is
neither ashamed nor shamed. Let us look at her for a
moment as she sits quietly within her father's doorway.
Her lamp is lit. The suitors are coming. Yes, she is
vastly pretty. Her long black hair is quaintly, carefully,
but not grotesquely dressed ; it is softly perfumed, and
fresh, dewy flowers rest amid its silken coils. Every
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ORIENTAL NUPTIALS
feature is pretty, but prettiest are her dainty ears and her
small hands and feet. In her ears gleam twin pearls and
rubies, and her little hands are heavy with the same gems.
The people of the East are peculiarly fond of pearls.
The fondness culminates in China. The pearls of the
world are worn by the beauties of Canton and Pekin.
The Burmese have all the fine tastes of the Chinese, and
none of their personal ugliness. The women of Burmah
wear pearls less profusely than do the women of China,
but they become them more. Mah Me wears a
petticoat, a graceful silken petticoat. It has been woven
in a Burmese loom. The colours are bright and varied,
but they are matchlessly blended, and the pattern is as
exquisite as it is Oriental. An outer skirt (indeed it is a
straight piece of soft silk) falls above the petticoat. It is
a soft, bright pink, it is striped with dull, dark colours, and
with gold and silver threads. It falls behind Mah
Me in a pretty demi-train way. Under her arms is
folded a broad band of red silk ; it forms a pretty, simple,
bodice and keeps in place the pretty, simple skirts. A
sheer muslin jacket covers her shoulders and her upper
arms. It is open from her bosom. She half wears, half
carries, a blue and silver shawl. Her soft brown neck is
modestly covered by chains of purest gold, in which glitter
the gems of Burmah — gems dug from the invaluable mines
for which we are so eagerly looking.
Mah Me is smoking a big Burmese cigar. The
Burmese cigars look very formidable, but in reality they
are the mildest of weeds. But the Burmans are devoted
to them, and only cease to smoke when they sleep. To
night is her first night " at home to suitors." A dozen or
more will probably come. She will give them pickled tea,
and they will chat and sing and play upon their tinkling
native instruments. Every Burman is a musician, skilful
H 97

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
and inveterate, if somewhat primitive. The Burmese,
unlike the other Oriental peoples, do not drink tea, they
eat it. I dislike tea as a beverage, but I liked it as a
viand. The Burmese pickle it with oil and garlic. As
rice is the staff of Burmese life, so is pickled tea the dish
of Burmese ceremony ; so Mah Me gives her suitors
pickled tea. Night after night they come, until she smiles
on one more than on his fellows, then their ranks thin ;
the favoured remains, the others go ; the betrothal is
accomplished ; the mothers of the young couple confer ;
the bridegroom presents his bride with a dowry ; the
marriage is celebrated by a feast ; the bride and bride
groom sit side by side and eat from one dish. No marriage
ceremony could be simpler, none could be more significant.
On the marriage night, the friends who have partaken of the
marriage feast pelt the house with stones. This musicless
serenade is kept up for an incredible time, but the silence
and the dark come at last, and the young husband and
wife drift quietly into the happiness of peaceful Burmese
married life.
I have sometimes thought, when looking at the
Burmese women, that perhaps one secret of the constant
affection of the Burmese husbands was the constant
neatness of the Burmese wives. No one, I believe, has
ever seen a Burmese woman untidy ; their persons and
their garments are always fresh, bright, and spotless.
Some one asked me recently, " what about divorce in
Burmah ? " I never heard of divorce in Burmah. I am
not, of course, prepared to say that there is no such thing ;
but certainly it is very rare. When it is necessary, I
daresay they deal with it as simply and as sensibly as
they do with marriage. But the only divorce of which
they are very generally cognisant is the great divorce, the
divorce decreed by death.

bi-iAmo women,

Page 99.

ORIENTAL NUPTIALS
We have conquered the Burmese ; true, but they
have conquered the marriage question, they have solved
it, — they have conquered it and solved it without knowing
of its existence. They are heathens ; true, but they are
happy in their home lives. May they never learn the
weird Western secret of marital misery. There is much
for us to learn in the Orient, but none of it is more
important than the beautiful lesson of married happiness
that is taught by Burmah. There is much in Burmah
that is most imperfect, but in the relative positions of the
sexes it is ideal.

99

CHAPTER XII
A JAUNT IN A HOUSE-BOAT  THROUGH THE HOME
OF THE WILD WHITE ROSE
I HAVE been lying in a steamer chair, in which I have
crossed half the large bodies of water in the world, and
trying to recall the absolute stillness of the night I drove
from the theatre in Shanghai to the canal up which we
were going into China, — Chinese China, I mean ; not
semi-European China ! Nothing moved. The crunch
ing of our carriage wheels was the only sound we heard.
The pungent Chinese flowers scented the air, and the
clear moonlight brocaded the white ground with sharp
black shadows of the blue wistarias.
Many weeks' hard work was over. We had been
playing bravely through the hot Chinese summer ; now
we were going to have a rest. This was one of our
delightful little vacations, all the sweeter for being stolen,
as they almost invariably were ; and to which I look back
as the Swiss going into exile looks back to the high
white peaks of his native mountains. We can recall
several years very full of hard work. But we can also
recall days of rest we snatched from our own busy life as
it rushed by us — days when we were free and breathed
new air. ioo

A JAUNT IN A HOUSE-BOAT
China is intersected with canals, as an oak leaf is
netted with veins. Every primitive people has its
favourite mode of travel. The travelling Chinaman goes
in a house- boat, a junk, or a sampan ; and the European
who would pierce beyond the outer edge of China must
adopt the Chinaman's method of journeying, — there is
no other way to get into China.
A delightful fellow, who lived in Shanghai, was
supping with us one night. My husband spoke of my
mania for seeing queer places, and told how I had gone
in Hong-Kong where no European woman had been
before me ; of how I had gone into the Burra Bazaar in
Calcutta at midnight, and told of a hundred other follies,
for which I had been soundly scolded at the time, but
which I had thoroughly enjoyed, and remember with
considerable pleasure.
Mr. Brown said, " Would you like to go in a house
boat up one of the canals into Chinese China, where
Europeans almost never go ? "
I was overjoyed at the suggestion. There were two
difficulties in our way, but woman-like I ignored them,
and man-like they overcame them. The first difficulty
was that we were playing six nights a week, and the
second was that the house-boat was very small and had
only one cabin. My husband agreed to give our
company a short holiday. Mr. Brown suggested that
they two could sleep on deck, or if it turned cold, a
curtain could be stretched across the tiny cabin. We
were to go, and I was happy.
It was about one in the morning when we reached
the boat. It was a funny little bark, and looked as if it
had been carved from a big Chinese nut. The moonlight
was so bright that we could see the faces of the scantily clad
coolies who lay on the deck. They were our sailors. There
IOI

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
were only two servants, the cook and Mr. Brown's " boy,"
who was to act as butler and general factotum. They stood
waiting for us, their bare feet hidden by the coarse Chinese
grass that grew on the banks, their long cues beautifully
braided and finished with red cotton, and their long blue
garments (for all the world like pinafores) new laundried.
I was asked once more if I were afraid^if I really
wanted to go ; then our carriage turned back, and we
went on board.
The sailors undid our moorings. They took up their
long poles, and we moved on through the moonlit dark
ness. We stood on deck a few moments before we went
down to supper. We were alone with the night, and with
China. I leaned over the rail and felt that I was the
only European woman in China ; those in Shanghai
and in Hong-Kong didn't count, no, nor even those in
Sha-mien. But / was in China, and I was going up, up
into the forbidden country.
Mr. Brown made me go below. What a capital host
he was ; and what a funny little cabin. There was a
table a little smaller than that at which I'm writing, and
there were seats round the cabin's sides, a bunk at one
end, and that was all. No not all : there were red
curtains at the windows ; there were cushions on the
seats ; there were satin heaps of eider down on the one
bunk (my bunk) ; there was a vase of flowers ; and Ah
Loon was bringing in the supper.
We had a pigeon pie that would have done credit to
the Langham ; we had an omelet in which the blessed
cook had stirred p&te' de foie gras ; we had anchovy sand
wiches and salad. The men sipped whisky and water as
men will, and I had some champagne. We had some
easy talk, but not for long. Two of us were tired, so
after going on deck for one more look at the moon-bathed
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A JAUNT IN A HOUSE-BOAT
shore and the queer sailors, I said "good-night" and
went below. Ah Loon had taken away the supper and
pulled down the little red curtains. He had dived into my
bag and laid out my kimono. I put it on, pulled up the
curtains, put out the lights, and climbed into my throne
like bed. Yes ; and I was as happy as a queen !
I have found that natives and monkeys warm to one
who goes among them fearlessly. And then' it would
have meant such bitter reckoning for those sailors if any ill
thing had befallen us. The night was still, the moonlight
accented everything, but no leaf moved. Two sounds
broke the stillness now and again. As we passed some
temple the tom-toms clashed out the brazen prayer of the
priest who was spending the night in worship ; then
as we passed some other boat, our boatmen cried out, in
Chinese, " Make way, make way for us ; we have distin
guished foreigners aboard." I tucked the eider down more
cosily about me and sank back, drowsy with the delicious
luxury of being called a " distinguished foreigner." A
sweet, mild smell of tobacco came from the deck like a
last good-night from my husband and our host. I dozed,
then I woke to feel a faint perfume creep across my face,
it was my welcome into China ; it was the scent of the
wild white rose.
When I woke in the morning Ah Loon was bright
ening the cabin with Oriental disregard of narrow European
bedchamber sanctities.
" You sleep wellie ? " he said. " I bling you tea
decky or you dlinky in bedie ? They gone decky, they
done washie."
I had my tea in bed, and then I induced him to leave
the room. The cabin was sweet with yellow jasmine.
One of the sailors had swam ashore to pull it I dressed
myself, but my boots were gone. I found them in the
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
cook-house with Ah Loon. He refused to part with
them. So I had to take him back to the cabin and let
him button them for me. He wanted to " dlessie " my
" hailie " but I postponed that.
All day we went on through panoramaed details of
Chinese life. In one place big-leaved tobacco plants
grew almost to the canal's edge. The coolies who were
cultivating the field rested from their work to look at
us. It was quite a shock to me to see tobacco untended
by American darkies. A sudden shower drove us below,
and made the coolies bundle into their odd rain-coats.
These garments are made of long, coarse grass. They
make one think of the old nursery rhyme, " The beggars
are come to town," but they keep their wearers dry and
they are very light.
Breakfast was ready. The French and the Chinese
make the best coffee in the world. The Chinese are
excellent cooks ; ours had been borrowed from the
" Shanghai Club," and he was, what it is a crime for a
cook not to be, an artist. He had done some delightful
things with fresh fish, and he had made a suprime of
chicken breasts in which tomatoes, mushrooms, and olives
were mingled with the happiest result The Chinese
fruits (of course we ended our meal with fruit) are delicious.
And you can't eat them out of China. They are as
pertinacious in their love of home as the Chinamen
themselves. You can buy liches at Covent Garden —
dried liches, but they are no more like the big pink-green
fruit you eat in China than the toy pagoda you buy at
the Lowther Arcade is like the great pagoda at Canton.
After breakfast I went and tried to make friends with the
cook. He was crouching over a little naphtha stove. The
weird, blue flame made the six feet by seven kitchen look
like a baby " Blue Grotto " and it threw a purple haze
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A JAUNT IN A HOUSE-BOAT
about yellow Yen Yang that turned him into a pictur
esque demon. He failed to make me over-welcome, and
the sickly smell of the naphtha disgusted me ; so I went
back to the cabin.
The rain was over. We went on deck. We were
just in time to see a dozen or more Chinamen of the better
class clustered about the base of an old Pagoda. " Loong
Hwa " it was called I think, and it had a long interesting
history. We passed acres and acres of rice, in different
stages of growth. In many of the fields men, women,
and children stood knee deep in the water without which
the young rice won't grow. Then we passed through a
strange crowded city. The " Soochow " canal, on which
we were, seemed to be the city's principal street. Shops
and houses were huddled together indiscriminately. All
were open to the view of passers-by, and all were swarm
ing with life. The buildings were of brick, of mud, of
wood, and of bamboo. The roofs, which were invariably
peaked, were covered with anything and everything ;
matting, broken flower pots, grass, tiles, and fifty other
materials. On half the roofs children were playing or
sleeping. Outside a shop, in which a " red button
mandarin " was making a purchase, waited his little body
guard of seven soldiers ; six of them carried round
bamboo shields, and one bore his flag. We passed a
famous Chinese temple and paused a little to study a
wonderful idol on the outer wall. It was in bas relief, and
tinted with every colour on the Chinese palette.
All that day and all the next — all that night and all the
next — we went on through " that old world which was to
us the new." I have not space for even passing mention
of half the wonders I saw. My pen must skip much
that I shall always remember. But I must not omit a
passing description of our wine-cellar. Three ropes trailed
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
behind our house-boat They hung low in the water —
one was weighted with a bottle of beer ; one was heavy
with a bottle of claret ; and one sunk deep in the cool
stream because a bottle of champagne was tied to it. It
was the duty of a half-grown Chinese boy to watch those
ropes, and to watch a grass bag filled with bottles of soda-
water which hung over one side. When a bottle was
pulled in, another replaced it ; and all our drink was
beautifully cool.
On the third morning we landed. I had to walk
across a thick bamboo pole, which they threw from the deck
to the bank. I toddled like a " small-footed " woman of
the best Chinese society ; and I should have fallen had
not Mr. Brown on shore and my husband on the boat,
held the two ends of a tightly stretched-rope. I steadied
myself by holding to it with one hand. And I stood in
China !
We had a long walk before us — a walk up to where
Rome sat enthroned on the Chinese hills ; for we were
going to a cathedral presided over by an eminent Roman
Catholic prelate. We had gone about a quarter of a mile,
climbing over rocks, breaking through tangling flowers
and shrubs, when we came upon a sea of perfumed
beauty. We had reached the home of the wild white
rose. Eighteen years before, at Heidelberg, my father found
and gave me a wild white rose. It was the first wild white
rose we had ever seen, and, though William Black tells
of wild white roses in England, my father never saw
another. Now I saw a wilderness of wild white roses at
my feet. They lay like unmelting snow-flakes on the
breast of the Chinese summer. We went on, up the hills.
We passed through three or four Chinese farmyards. No
one molested us, and they scarcely looked at us, though
1 06

A JAUNT IN A HOUSE-BOAT
Europeans were almost unknown there. Chinese dignity
is imperturbable. I grew tired. A woman who was hulling corn gave
me a glass of milk. But when my two comrades inti
mated that they too were tired and thirsty, she shook her
head and frowned. Who shall say that the women of the
Orient are not emancipated ?
Half-way up the hill we stopped and looked across
China. Green — green — green ! Rice — rice — rice !
The food of the nation was growing on the land of the
people. Every known and unknown shade of green was
there. The boundaries of each farm were cleanly out
lined ; and in the atmosphere, as clear as that of Italy,
we could see for miles and miles ; far in the distance
the green fields and the blue sky melted into each
other — making by their mingling a lovely indescribable
gray. We had reached a little chapel. Over the doorway
was a crucifix. On the hill above stood a white cathe
dral. It would have adorned any street in Paris or
Vienna ; and the great gold cross that tipped it flashed like
intersecting rainbows in the noon-day sun.
We waited in the chapel while our cards were sent up
to the fathers. The walls were hung with Scriptural texts
(in Chinese characters) and Biblical illustrations from a
Mongolian point of view. Joseph, and a greater than
Joseph, wore " pigtails," and Mary had " little feet," and the
ample trousers of a Chinese woman. I have noticed all
over the world that the Church of Rome is very wise in
her concessions to the peoples she would convert. She
adapts her teachings to the language her hearers can
easiest understand.
Our messenger came back. The fathers were in re
treat, and of course could not see us ; least of all could
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
they see me. But the head of their order kindly sent me
down his " chair," and two coolies to carry me up to the
cathedral. I appreciated that courtesy, before we reached
the top ; for my husband and our friend found the climb
very hard. The steep steps were cut in the rock in a
manner typical of the Journey to the Cross. The first set
of steps bore upward to the right ; then a rude shrine
was cut in the rocks. That represented the first station.
The next set of steps bore upward to the left ; then
another niche represented the second station. The third
set of steps bore upward to the right ; the fourth bore
upward to the left. There were twelve sets of steps,
and at the end of each a holy lamp burned in front of a
niche frescoed with the pictures that you will find in every
illustrated Roman Catholic prayer-book. From the last
station three broad, easy steps led into the beautiful
cathedral. There were no pews ; mats lay upon the
mosaic floor. The huge building was empty. At the
door the marble basins held holy water unrippled by
devout fingers. The altar-piece was wonderfully fine, and
reminded me of the admirable figure of Mary on the high
altar of the cathedral in Montreal.
We lingered a long time in the cool, vacant fane,
speaking in hushed tones of the vast enterprise of Rome.
Her priests have made practically no converts in China ;
and they know it But they persist They spare no ex
pense, count no cost of life ; because they believe that in
after generations they shall have so permeated Chinese
life with Roman Catholic thought that real conversion
of the Chinese may be possible. I am not a Roman
Catholic ; but the longer I live — the farther I travel — the
more deeply I respect the Church of Rome. She sent
her Sisters of Charity into the battlefields of old Europe ;
she has encouraged art and literature when, but for her,
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A JAUNT IN A HOUSE-BOAT
they must have perished ; and her pioneers press always
in the advance guard of civilisation.
It was sunset when we returned to our house-boat.
We seized upon the dinner table. I had had a glass of
milk since breakfast, and the hospitable priests had sent
us a light lunch into their outer garden ; but we had
climbed eight miles at least ; the men had walked up and
down the long, steep steps leading to the cathedral ; and
we were very hungry.
We went on deck for coffee. We had begun our re
turn journey. I tried to paint the sunset. How I failed !
Red melted into orange, and warm violet faded to cold
green, before I could fix either to my half liking. A few
miles down, the canal widened into a lake. We waited
there a little to watch some novel fishing. On the centre
of the lake were three or four motionless sampans ; in
each were two or three Chinamen ; but the fishermen
were huge cormorants. Each man had two birds ; each
bird was fastened, by one foot, to a long string, the other
end of which was secured to the Chinaman's wrist ; each
bird had a metal ring about his throat, to prevent his
swallowing the fish he caught. The birds sat on the edge
of the sampans, peering intently into the water. Suddenly
one would plunge into the water, coming up almost
instantly, with a silver fish gleaming in its cruel beak.
The cormorants never made a mistake. It was only after
a fierce fight that they could be made to relinquish their
prey ; and the men who had them in charge had many a
torn finger. When the boats were full, the men poled to
the shore. The birds were carried some distance from
the sampans ; the rings were taken from their necks ; and
they were given a few of the fish they had been used to
catch. I have seen few sights more weird, more distinct
ively odd, than the fishing cormorants of China.
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
An hour later — it was still bright and light — we
passed through a Chinese town. A high picturesque
bridge that spanned the canal was teeming with people.
It was the Chinese hour of rest ; the Chinese (the
busiest people on the globe) were doing nothing but
enjoying themselves. They were all talking — their
language is never musical, but it is characteristic.
I have heard a great deal of Chinese antagonism to
Europeans ; I have never witnessed it. Friends have
told me of hair-breadth escapes from Chinese mobs, and of
loathsomely insulting language to which they have been
subjected by the Chinese. My experience has been quite
to the contrary. I have traversed the length and breadth
of the island of Hong-Kong alone, but for my 'rickshaw
coolie. I have gone down into the depths of old
Shanghai ; and I have stood, one of three Europeans, in
the midst of ten thousand Cantonese, and I have received
courteous kindness — nothing else. I have had them
laugh at me. A woman in Canton crept up to me and
felt the strange European texture of my dress ; a woman
in Shanghai begged a glove from me — giving me a ring
in return. I have had presents, unsolicited and unrequited,
from almost every class of Chinese. As we passed beneath
the big red bridge, a girl leaned over the parapet and threw
a bunch of sweet-briar into my lap. In reporting my days
in China, I must report unbroken kindness ; for no grown
woman can be expected to count the fact that, as she sat
on the deck of a house-boat, half-a-dozen Chinese urchins
called out, " La-le-lung ! La-le-lung ! " That means a
thief, a liar, and something else as complimentary. And
one boy called after us, " Fankwai ! " which means foreign
devil. But the delightful frankness of the small boy is
too world-wide to be laid at the door of China ; and to
me a small boy is the most delicious animal in the wide
I 10

A JAUNT IN A HOUSE-BOAT
world ; and I can forgive him sins much more grievous
than calling me a " foreign devil."
We didn't land where we had embarked a few nights
before. We kept on down through the entrance to the
Soochow creek. There the native houses, with their
queerly ventilated walls, clustered in indescribable con
fusion. The roof of every Chinese building is peaked
liked the prow of an ancient ship. I have often wished
for leisure to study Chinese architecture, the few
theories I have heard about its peculiarities are so inter
esting. We forced our way through a multitude of native
boats, out into the fresh breezes of the open water, — we
were in the river. We made for the harbour.
We were back in Shanghai ; our happy holiday was
over. I shall always hold Mr. Brown's memory very
blessed ; and remember as one of the most pleasant and
unique experiences of my life our jaunt in a house-boat
through the home of the Wild White Rose.

1 1 1

CHAPTER XIII
AN OPIUM DEN IN SHANGHAI
There are two Shanghais. New Shanghai is under
the control of three Western powers. Over one section of
it floats the French Tricolour ; over another part waves
the Stars and Stripes of the United States ; above the
third flies the Union Jack. ' The Chinese who live in New
Shanghai are more or less Europeanised ; they speak
" pidgen " English or a quaint burlesque French. They
adapt themselves to their pale neighbours — in many ways,
I have eaten in Shanghai with a Chinaman who was deft
in his use of knife and fork. The opium " joints " of New
Shanghai are not typical Chinese opium houses any more
than if they were in " China-town " in San Francisco or in
Melbourne. They are so modified for the convenience of
their European habitues that, at the most, they are but
half Mongolian.
In Old Shanghai it is all very different. Drive a few
miles — a very few — from the luxurious European Club ;
leave your carriage when you come to a bamboo bridge
it may not cross ; pass over that bridge ; go through the
gate-way of the old city wall ; and you are in China ! —
real China ! — old China, where ancient customs hold their
own ; where nothing changes. You pass through that gate
by sufferance. Don't swagger down those dirty narrow
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CITY WALL, OLD SHANGHAI,

Page 112.

AN OPIUM DEN IN SHANGHAI
streets. The flag that tops your consulate casts no pro
tecting shadow here.
At night, Old Shanghai is shut to Europeans. But
we went there one night, armed with especial permission,
and escorted by three white-button mandarins ; and,
perhaps I ought to add, forbidden by our Consul.
We saw several opium dens. They varied in their
degrees of luxury, but they were all alike in being vastly
unlike anything we had seen in New Shanghai or in
Occidental " China-towns."
In the humblest of the "joints" we visited in Old
Shanghai, on trestles, some made of wood, some made of
bamboo, lay long boards ; every alternate trestle was higher
than those next it ; this made an incline. The smokers
lay on these inclined boards, their heads at the higher
ends, their feet at the lower ; under their heads were hard,
small, native pillows ; and between each two smokers was
placed a small bamboo cabinet that held the impedi
menta of their dissipation.
Is opium smoking a dissipation ? Yes — if it is smoked
to excess, and at the wrong time. But I have lived too
long in the East not to feel that opium has a place — an
essential place — in the economy of the Orient. That we
should wean Asia from the use of opium is impossible ;
that we are trying, is preposterous ; worst of all, we are
making ourselves ridiculous.
The opium den was quiet and decorous. The air was
heavy with a peculiar, pleasant sweetness. The smokers
were in different stages of the opium pleasure ; but they
were all well-behaved and inoffensive. Would they have
been so had whisky been the form of their indulgence ?
In a few hours they would resume the heavy burdens of
their poverty-stricken lives, rested but not enervated. Gin
would not have left them so unharmed !
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
The outer room, through which we had passed, was of
course devoted to gambling. The Chinaman stimulates his
intellect as much by his incessant playing of intricate games
of chance as he stupefies it by his frequent use of opium.
I have been asked if Chinese women smoke. I believe
that they do, — very much as European women smoke.
Their smoking of opium is by no means universal, nor do
they smoke it to excess, nor in its strength. When the
feet of the small-footed women are being bound, I believe
that they use opium rather more than at other times.
That the national use of opium has not dulled the
national intellect must be the testimony of every truthful
European who has ever tried to get the better, in a bargain,
of a Chinese man, woman, or child. That the national
use of opium has undermined the national health surely
will be said by no one who has gone through China with
eyes half open.
As we drove home, I felt that we had in no way been
" slumming " ; but rather that we had been peeping at the
interesting real life of a wonderful people.
Our Consul gave us marrow-bones for supper, and
said to me — " You will burrow once too often into the
bowels of the Orient " ; but I never did.
I know nothing of the great international issues
staked upon England's ultimate answer to the Opium
Question. I am too lazy (or too wise) to attempt the
quick solving of a problem that has baffled many a wise
man throughout a lifetime. But I know something of the
human interests at stake ; and humanitarianism is so
much more than internationalism that I venture to speak
re this well-worn subject.
Opium has been a great blessing to Asia, and is so
now. True, it is sometimes used to excess in the East.
Here, I have known Englishmen to make themselves very
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AN OPIUM DEN IN SHANGHAI
ill by over-consumption of roast beef and Yorkshire pud
ding ; Italian noblemen have grown gross from repeated
over-feeds of macaroni ; Italian peasants have become
disgustingly fat on black bread and garlic.
Some Chinamen, some Indians, use too much opium ;
but (we must bear in mind the enormous populations of
both countries) they are the exceptions, not the rule. The
people of the East are naturally moderate. They are
languid, and languor does nothing to excess. In India,
in the Straits Settlements, or in China, a coolie goes
bravely to work, after an enormous meal of rice and curry.
Curry is a positive stimulant, a non-intoxicant stimulant !
After some hours the coolie feels a little less like work ;
but his work is not half done. He thrusts his hand into
one of the many mysterious recesses of his dirty loin
cloth ; he draws forth a yellowish ball, about the size of
a wickedly big pill. It is not opium, but it contains opium.
He thrusts it beneath his tongue. He does not grow
sleepy ; he does not grow momentarily less intelligent ;
but his work grows lighter. His evening-rice does not
seem so sadly far off. The opium ball (ball tinged with
opium, to speak correctly rather than colloquially) — the
opium ball has made his flesh as strong temporarily as
his patient Oriental spirit is always willing. The effect of
the opium passes away. His work is over. His curry and
rice is ready. He goes home to it, and to his gentle,
meek, contented womankind, no jot the worse for his little
indulgence. Had he worked on with tingling nerves, and
trembling limbs, and craving stomach, he would have been
in a miserable state physically.
Again, I acknowledge that the people of the East
sometimes take opium in injurious and disgraceful quan
tities, but they are an infinitesimal proportion. Here
in Europe people occasionally select the pleasantest means
H5

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
of committing suicide, and lull themselves into eternal
slumber with chloroform. For their silly sakes (I might
say brave sakes, did I care to deal with two controversies
at once) — for their sakes shall we do away with chloroform,
and make the operating rooms of our hospitals the hells
of horrors they were sixty years ago ?
It has often been in my heart to advocate the
moderate use of opium for our own working classes. I
have not done so for three reasons. In the first placed
am an unknown woman with an unestablished pen. Who
would listen to me merely because I love Asia and wish
Europe well ? Secondly, I am a moral coward ; I shrink
from the contumely of my own people. Last of all,
and most of all, I doubt if our poor could be so trusted,
as can the people of the Orient, with a drug which is
blessing or curse as it is wisely or unwisely used. Self-
denial has become by long usage second nature to the
children of the East. Our Anglo-Saxon poor drain their
pewter mugs to the dregs.
The other day at the British Museum, when searching
for exact and reliable information on a nice point of
Oriental law, I had the misfortune to come across a maudlin
book written by a missionary. I condemn the book, not
because of its author's calling, but because it was written
in a narrow spirit, and in dense ignorance of the subject
embodied in its title. Among other things calculated to
rather startle one who knows the East and loves it, the
writer gravely proposed that we should subjugate " wicked
China " by influencing the Chinese to a much larger use of
opium. In Europe the victims of nameless crimes are
sometimes drugged into drunken acquiescence ; but I am
sure that most Christians would advocate a conversion of
the heathen more intelligently voluntary on the part of the
converts. 116

AN OPIUM DEN IN SHANGHAI
Let us speak the truth about Asia or be silent ; let
us be just to India at least. There are many subjects
vitally important to Her Majesty's brown people, subjects
intimately connected with their home lives and their
physical well-being, of which most of us know nothing.
If we are too indolent or too indifferent to inform
ourselves on those subjects in the only adequate way — I
mean by a long, studious, and sympathetic residence in
India — why then, in the great name of humanity and the
name of Anglo-Saxon justice, let us leave bad enough
alone. There are two classes of men who should not be allowed
to write, or at all events to print. In our profession we
always know that a company has fallen upon very hard
times indeed when His Majesty the stage manager is cast
for a part. There are analogous reasons and as strong
why an editor should never dip his pen into the ink-filled
well save to write, " Returned with thanks," or " Please
reduce this charming article from three columns to one."
Re writing editors, I have said as much as I dare.
" Re writing " missionaries, please let me speak. Why are
they missionaries ? What do they as missionaries accom
plish ? I have not devoted enough time to either question,
nor have I asked those questions with enough sympathy,
to feel justified in answering. The nineteenth century
must work out its own salvation if it can, and the over
plus of Anglo-Saxon population must find relief and
breathing room in many a foreign clime, and through the
channel of many a debatable occupation.
I am dumb before the mass of missionaries and the
missionary question. But against the missionaries who
write, not narrow tracts, but unnecessary and incorrect
essays on Eastern peoples and customs, I now and here
wage war. 117

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
A missionary goes to Asia, perhaps to sacrifice his
life, perhaps to better his condition. In one thing at
least he is sincere — in his condemnation of the religions of
the East. Of these religions he knows nothing ; but the
missionary is not perhaps quite so unreasonable as he
appears, for he expects the " native " to accept Christianity
as blindly and as ignorantly as he himself condemns
Buddhism, Confucianism, and a hundred other creeds of
which he does not even know the names. I do not blame
the missionary ; we all think as keenly as we can, and
our thought is only limited by our circumstances and
our capacity. My quarrel with the missionary is a personal one.
I protest against his ignorance of modes Oriental being
perpetuated in type.
I am reading now in the British Museum, — reading to
increase my knowledge of the hemisphere I love. I select
from the catalogue thirteen books. I go to my seat, the
books are brought ; twelve are written by missionaries,
and they abound in statements so preposterously inac
curate that even my partial information balks at them.
The man who devotes his life to the study of microbes
does not attempt, when he retires from active practice, to
crown his life's work by writing an exhaustive treatise on
the Law of Evidence. A great Q.C. rarely spends his old
age in the authorship of a book on hip-disease. We live
in an age of specialists ; but the missionary, at least the
literary missionary, is a man apart, — he deals in general
ities, and they don't even glitter.
I came across a book the other day, or rather it came
across me. It had been written by a most estimable
man, and it was a most wonderful and ingenious jumble
of lapidarian lore, of geological research, and of the history
of Christianity in Ceylon. It was a book supremely
1 1 8

AN OPIUM DEN IN SHANGHAI
calculated to exasperate an enthusiastic lapidarian who
was indifferent to things sacred ; but then, of course,
such a man requires exasperating. But it occurred to me
that it might be equally calculated to embarrass and
puzzle the devout reader who was more religiously
minded than generally well-informed.
I am not jibing at missionaries. Some of the most
charming people that I have met in India were mission
aries ; and though we radically differed in much that was
to them of the first importance, I found every cause to
respect their intelligence, their mentalities, and their lives.
I spent a good deal of time in the Leper Asylum at
Subathu, and learned a vast deal from the missionary in
charge of it, and from his wife. What a book of intense
interest they could write ! — for I am sure that they have
too much character to write about what they do not
understand ; I am sure that they have too much literary
good taste to make a heterogeneous mixture of theology
and irrelevant Orientalism. They both write well, for I
have had charming letters from them both.
But the literary missionary per se — the man who knows
superficially one thing and writes books about everything,
— he ought to be extinguished.

119

CHAPTER XIV
MEMORIES OF HONG-KONG
Hong-Kong exemplifies the national reserve of two great
nations. Hong-Kong is the home of countless Chinamen,
and the residence of many Englishmen, but the two know
little of each other.
After having lived for some months in Hong-Kong, I
have concluded that there are no two nations, one Oriental
and the other Occidental, that so closely resemble each
other as do the English and the Chinese. Englishmen
are intensely Western ; Chinamen are intensely Eastern.
But those are, after all, merely matters involving local
colour. Local colour affects the details of daily national
life, but does not necessarily destroy or create great basic
race characteristics.
Chinamen and Englishmen have, in common, in
defatigable industry, indomitable courage, unswerving
perseverance, reticence, pride, fidelity to a bargain, love
of law and order, faith in the old, mistrust of the new.
Both love horses ; both were originally hunters ; both
indulge in games of chance — sometimes too often ; both
are respecters of rank ; both venerate genius ; both are
considerate of women and children ; both have produced
great and enduring literatures ; both have developed
science ; both resent the slightest encroachment upon
1 20

MEMORIES OF HONG-KONG
their rights — individual or national ; both are slow to anger
and slower to forgive ; both lack a supreme taste in dress ;
and in a hundred other ways they resemble each other.
The English race is painted on the canvas of life with
stern reliable grays ; the Chinese race is painted with dull
serviceable blues. The Chinese have the advantage of the
more vivid, picture-like background.
Nature is brilliant and aggressive in China. Chinese
architecture is fantastic and often crude. But both are
softened. The bold, bright scenery is made lovely and
almost gentle by endless trails of dainty vines, great
clumps and long lines of feathery bamboo, fields of wild
white roses, and ragged masses of chrysanthemums. The
grotesque Mongolian architecture is toned to beauty and
fitness by its antiquity, and by its quaint tent-like outlines.
There is no city in the world more beautifully situated
than Hong-Kong. As a matter of fact, there is no city
named Hong-Kong, but there is a city called Hong-
Kong. The island is named Hong-Kong, and its one city
is named Victoria, but it is always called Hong-Kong.
It is so much more rational to call a Chinese city by a
Chinese rather than an English name — even though the
English flag waves over it — that we may adopt the custom
and forget the fact.
" The Peak " crowns Hong-Kong naturally and socially.
The beauty of the island culminates where the huge ferns
break again the lovely broken outlines of the Peak, and
the blue sky backgrounds with topaz the big green fronds.
The European elite of the island lives as near the Peak
as it can, and descends in its coolie-borne chair to the
streets and byways of Hong-Kong. The Peak is the
climatic salvation of European life in Hong-Kong. When
the heat of Hong-Kong the lowly is not to be endured
of European vitalities, why then the Europeans of lower
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
Hong-Kong reverse the action of Hong- Kong's dlite.
The dwellers in Hong-Kong the lower ascend to the
Peak, where it is always delightfully comfortable, invigor-
atingly cool. But they do not, as a rule, come up in
chairs — the middle-class Anglo- Hong- Kongians ; they
come up on the cable railway, which is far quicker, and
only costs, if I remember, ten sen !
But there is one more word to be said in praise of
the Peak. Europeans can boast of three gastronomic
achievements in Asia. The hotels in the East are, as a
rule, bad ; but there are a few exceptions ; and of those
few, three are Bonifaced by Europeans. A dear old
American darky presides smilingly over a capital hotel
on the Peak.
It poured when we first reached Hong-Kong. But I
am always delighted to get on to firm land — even if it is
rain-soaked and muddy.
The chattering coolies and a thousand sampans swarmed
about our ship. The sampans seemed scrupulously clean
and were indescribably quaint. Women stood in them
and propelled them, using in a masterly way long bamboo
poles. The women wore full blue trousers, and black
sack-like long-skirted coats that shone like oilcloth. They
all wore ear-rings and bracelets of jade. The men wore
their droll rain-coats and conical-shaped hats that had
immense brims and were made of bamboo splints. They
jabbered like magpies ; and the scene was infinitely more
Chinese than any I had seen in the harbour at Shanghai.
Soon a business-like little tug came alongside, with Mr.
Paulding standing smiling in the prow. He had a nice
new umbrella and a very nice new hat. I never remember
arriving at a new point in our Eastern journeyings and
being met by Mr. Paulding minus a new hat. It was his
one mania, and a very harmless one ; but I believe it
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MEMORIES OF HONG-KONG
more than once provoked his Madrassi boy to tears. Mr.
Paulding could never be induced to part with one of his
hats, nor to allow them to be roughly stowed away with
the heavy luggage. Sam used to look both picturesque
and pathetic when he staggered on to a boat, or boarded
with difficulty a train, bearing about his patient but
unwilling person some dozens of hat boxes and topees.
Much to my disappointment we were transferred to
the steam launch. I had artistic yearnings toward a
sampan ; but we were in a hurry, so the picturesque
was sacrificed to the expeditious.
After breakfast — for it was still early — we walked to
the theatre. I only know of two European theatres in
China ; but both are excellent — bar dressing-rooms. The
theatre in Hong-Kong is in the Town Hall. It was not
only nice, but it was clean.
We had in Hong-Kong a, for us, long holiday.
Madame Patey and an admirable company of artists had
possession of the theatre. We waited — unless I forget —
a week or more, before we opened. The days I spent
in prowling about Hong-Kong; and each night that
Madame Patey sang, we had a feast of music.
Mr. Paulding had engaged a jinrickshaw and a coolie
for me before we arrived. He had learned that wherever
we were I would go — go all the time ; and that the drain
on the managerial exchequer was rather less if some
vehicle of locomotion was bargained for, for me, before
hand. It was impossible to hire a carriage, because there
were none. The Governor had a landau, if I remember,
and some one else had some kind of a carriage, and there
were a few dog-carts — a very few. Hong-Kong is so up
and down — most of the streets are up so many flights of
steps — that a trap would be comparatively useless. Indeed
the 'rickshaws have often to go very much round about,
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where a chair " can go right up." And there are many
nooks of beauty to which the jinrickshaws cannot take
you at all. We were great friends — were Chung Lim, my
'rickshaw coolie, and I, although he knew no English and
utterly failed to understand my Chinese. He was a little
creature, but oh ! how he ran. When the amah and the
hotel clerk between them had made him understand that
I did not care where I went, but that I wished to go
everywhere, and that I was vastly more interested in the
Chinese than in the European quarter, he went sturdily to
work to show me Hong-Kong, and show me Hong-Kong
he did. For hours he used to run me up and down the
long, narrow streets. From the upper windows of the tall,
slim buildings hung the newly-washed garments of the
natives. They were all cut after one generous ungraceful
pattern, and were all of true Chinese blue, which is not
true blue at all, it is so nearly a dull gray. Red paper
streamers strung about the open doors told the shop
keepers' names and the nature of their wares.
When I wished to stop the jinrickshaw I had to give
a most undignified grunt, or tap Chung Lim sharply with
my parasol. As I rarely carried a parasol I usually had
to grunt. Grunting is one of the things a woman does
not like to chronicle of herself ; but it was the only sound
to which my Hong-Kong coolie would pay the slightest
attention. I tried screaming once or twice ; but he
evidently thought that I was singing, and he ran swiftly
on. A grunt was something so akin to his own guttural
mode of speech that he invariably recognised it as an
attempt upon my part to communicate an idea or a desire.
I halted my " human horse " very often. Men passed
me with great baskets of joss sticks ; and though Chung
Lim shook his head, I used at first to stop and buy from
each vendor a few of the scented sticks ; but I soon found
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MEMORIES OF HONG-KONG
that my coolie was right. They were a very bad quality
of joss sticks indeed, those that I bought on the streets
of Hong-Kong; but at the proper shops (and I soon
found where they were), I bought great armfuls of the
slim, fragrant incense sticks. And as 1 write, the long
spark and the thin flame of a burning joss stick carries
me back to China ; and if I shut my eyes a moment, I
can fancy myself back in a grotesque joss house to which
Chung Lim and I very often went. It is called, if I
remember, " Tin How." I always took a bunch of joss
sticks with me. I used to divide them with Chung Lim,
who lit his share before his joss and said " Chin-chin " to
me. I think that Chung regarded me as mad, but he
never refused anything I offered him ; and though I per
sistently prowled about the native quarters of Hong-Kong,
my intrusion was never resented, though it evidently
caused a good deal of amazement. Sometimes I stayed
in the joss house and burned incense too, and tried to
sketch the wonderful types of humanity that were
gathered before the big joss. But oftener I roamed
about outside, gathering flowers and trying to make
friends with some workmen who were digging a few yards
from the temple door. Often I sat in the 'rickshaw and
studied the exterior of the joss house. I never grew
tired of looking at it Beneath the roof were depicted,
in wonderful relief and bas-relief, scenes from Chinese
history. They were dramatic in outline, and charming in
glorious colouring.
The walls were hung with gorgeous panels, each of
which was a prayer or a sermon. Upon the edge of the
roof sprawled strange crustations. Beneath them was
carved a fringe of conventionalised shells. Under this
hung a narrow curtain of wood or stucco, on which, in
bas-relief, were marvellous fruits, quaint flowers, odd
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
figures, and impossible fish. This scant curtain was
finished with an odd lace-like carving which told, as every
bit of conventional decoration in China tells, the omni
potence of bamboo. Dreadful dragons and indescribable
elephants supported the roof, and rested upon great grace
ful beams, from which hung huge lanterns made of silk,
of paper, of tinsel, and of bamboo — the soft lamps of
Cathay !
Near the doorway sat a personage — priest or mer
chant, I knew not which. He wore gold spectacles, he
smoked opium through a silver pipe, and he committed
upon you righteous, ecclesiastical robbery when he sold you
joss sticks and prayers. I do not mean that he prayed
for you ; that he would, I fancy, under no circumstances
do. But he sold you prayers printed upon slips of red
Chinese paper. The Mongolian characters puzzled you
a bit perhaps ! That was insignificant — the Chinese gods
could read them.
Upon the temple steps sat a stolid, motley crew. I
used to buy vicious-looking yellow cakes from one fellow,
and from a sour-appearanced old woman I never failed to
buy my handkerchief full of the nuts of my childhood.
She always rang my bit of money on the temple steps to
see that I had not cheated her, and I always was a bit
disappointed in her wares. Can you imagine a woman,
who in her old age will not grow childish, because in her
mature womanhood she has never ceased to be a child,
— can you imagine her, half sitting, half reclining, in a
Chinese 'rickshaw, and as the 'rickshaw is pulled through
the pungent, hilly woods of Hong-Kong, saying in her
wicked cosmopolitan heart, as she munches the peanuts
of Cathay, " There are no peanuts but in America, and
only an American darky or a naturalised Italian can roast
them " ? 126

MEMORIES OF HONG-KONG
Opposite the joss house sat a Chinese fortune-teller.
His table stood in front of a big rock, about which grace
ful trees hung. Over the table was a cabalistic cloth, and
the Mongolian wizard foretold your fate, using bamboo
slips character-inscribed, and he was quite as infallible as
any Occidental fortune-teller whom I ever patronised.
I often used to manufacture an excuse to go into and
to linger in the courtyard of a Chinese carpenter who
interested me greatly. He was one of the few accessible
Chinamen I have ever known. It is very difficult to write
positively of China, even after some residence there.
The Chinese will tell you nothing, and, with a few excep
tions, the Europeans who have spent half their lives there
know nothing. But my friend, the carpenter, did give
me a few peeps into China. He was almost always
sawing, and his brother was almost always smoking a
slender pipe that was nearly as long as himself. Two
" sew sew " women often sat upon a low bench mending
the tattered garments of the carpenter and his confreres.
" Sew sew amahs " are one of the institutions of China.
A London paper has recently advocated, as an occupation
for deftly needled but impecunious gentlewomen, the going
from mansion to mansion and the mending of dilapidated
garments. In China, that has been, for hundreds of
years, an acknowledged profession for women. The " sew
sew amahs " are really very useful. They sit outside your
door or in a secluded corner of your garden, and stitch,
stitch, stitch, for two sen a day, until you are whole again
and clothed in your right garments. The Chinese women
do not sew as well as do the Chinese men. It is only in
the Orient and in Paris that man realises what a superior,
noble occupation dressmaking is. But the women of the
East mend very adequately ; and I for one congratulate
them that, among all their other miseries, they are not
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
expected to devote their lives to the designing and first
sewing of loom-woven fig leaves.
Has it ever occurred to the champions of the women of
the East, that the Oriental man has not only crushed the
Oriental woman beneath his cruel heel, but that he has
robbed her of her most effeminate privilege, since he has
usurped her sharp sceptre — her needle ?
Pleasant Valley is a lovely spot, circled by gray-green
hills and feathered bamboo. It is the race-course of
Hong-Kong. Here ponies are run and frocks from home
are worn, sandwiches are eaten and cool wines are drunk,
and, take it all in all, it is quite like a toy Derby. It is
a magnification of the " Ascot " that you may buy in the
Lowther Arcade for a few pounds. No, it is not. No
toy maker, though he were as tenderly sympathetic as
sweet Caleb Plummer, much less a maker of toys in
Germany, could manufacture such a toy as nature and
Anglo-residents have made Pleasant Valley.
Separated from the race-course by a narrow bamboo-
edged road is the Pleasant Valley Cemetery — an acre of
beauty sacred to the eternal sleep of dead Europeans. I
know of no other cemetery so beautiful in all our world. I
know of no place commemorative of the dead that com
pares in loveliness with the Pleasant Valley Cemetery, save
only the Taj Mahal. One is the triumph of nature ; one
is the supreme art triumph of man : but over both Death
is triumphant, and the Indian Princess and the English
wanderers are at rest — asleep and oblivious.
Only an even more presumptuous pen than mine
would attempt to describe the Hong-Kong Public Gardens.
They are matchless. Their flora is both mighty and lace
like ; and from their detailed beauty you look away to
the panoramaed beauty of Hong-Kong.
As I write on from page to page, the little story of our
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MEMORIES OF HONG-KONG
Eastern wanderings, I grow a bit frightened at my own
temerity. I do so want to describe the wonderland
through which we wandered, and I am so unable to
describe it China baffles me most. The country is
so intricate with a thousand beauties, the people so
unapproachable, their customs so puzzling, so almost
inexplicable. But my excuse for trying to do what I
am not fit to do, must be the old excuse, the great
excuse, the excuse of love. I love the Orient ; I prattle
about it like a child perhaps ; but if I could inspire one
tired European to go East for a little to rest his eyes,
his feet, and his heart, in the great, kind Oriental wonder
land, then I should be, for once at least, a benefactor.
My boy and I spent many a happy half-day, being
carried up and down the Hong-Kong hills — he in one
chair, I in another. It was in Hong-Kong that he was
promoted from dresses to trousers, and he used to sit in
his high-swung chair, quite fearlessly, and chatter to his
bearers. I was a little frightened at first lest they should
drop him, but I soon learned how foot-sure they were and
how careful of their light little burden. They never
encouraged my advances towards good-fellowship ; but
they were ready enough to teach him the name of a
flower or a bird, to run or to walk, as he wished. And
often and often they spared one of their scanty coins to
buy him a sweetmeat.
The heat in Hong-Kong was not excessive when we
were first there, but it was warm enough to make the
Peak a luxury. And it was a charming change to go to
a friend's bungalow not far from the Bowen Road and
drink afternoon tea. And what dinners we used to have
in some of those cool, white bungalows ; and how we sang
softly as we went home through the starlight.
But it was " China town " that I really loved. I have
K 129

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
been in Hong-Kong where European women do not go —
where, I believe, no other European woman has been. I
have gone through dark arcades where hundreds of natives
struggled with life and with each other. I have begged a
mouthful of rice from a sampan woman. I have wandered
alone until I was completely lost, and had to ask my way
back to the world of hotels and Europeans. I never met
with the slightest incivility. I found the Chinese every
thing that I had been told they were not.
At night, when I was not working, I used to get into
my 'rickshaw and let Chung Lim pull me along the beau
tiful harbour until the beauty of the night had reconciled
me to everything and every one, myself included.
I do not know where Chung Lim slept, nor where he
ate. He was always at the hotel door when I went down,
day or night ; always smiling and ready to run with me
to the island's end. I paid him one yen per day. When
we finally left Hong-Kong, I gave him five yen more than
I owed him ; and a sacrilegious English boy who lives
in Hong-Kong, and to whose patronage I recommended
Chung Lim, wrote me the other day, " Chung Lim still
burns joss sticks to your memory."

130

CHAPTER XV
A GLIMPSE OF CANTON
What can I write of Canton ? If Hong-Kong was
wonderful, if Shanghai was interesting, if Burmah was
picturesque, what was Canton ? It was superlative !
I know that Europeans go into Canton and come out
of it with stolid faces, and sneer languidly as they speak
of it I know a woman who preferred poor little, colour
less, on sufferance Sha-mien, to great, mysterious, un
fathomable, lurid Canton. Ah, well ! it takes all sorts to
make a world — and I dare say I revolted her as much as
she disgusted me. " Would you rather live in Canton
than in Sha-mien?" some one asks me. Certainly not —
at least not permanently. But I, nevertheless, regard Sha-
mien as utterly insignificant as compared with Canton.
The only significant thing about Sha-mien is its courage
in being there at all. No ; I should not prefer Canton to
Sha-mien as a place of residence for myself. I should be
sorry to spend twenty unbroken years in Canton, and I
should be displeased to spend twenty unbroken years on
the most magnificent iceberg that ever floated on the Polar
Seas. But for all that I think the iceberg vastly more
interesting, more fascinating, grander, more beautiful, than
the snow-flakes that are feebly smudging my window-
pane. 131

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
Let me introduce you for a moment to my London
back-yard, as I see it at this moment. It is a grim con
glomeration of rubble, dilapidated ivy, of thin snow
blotches, and of burst water-pipes. Nothing could be less
picturesque. No earthly eye could think it beautiful, save
the eye of a plumber. Yet I would rather live here than
in Canton, where a million pictures are yours for the look
ing. In all Canton I never saw one unpicturesque bit.
And once I almost felt like tearing up my sketch-book —
not because of my own incompetence, for to that I am ac
customed, but because for every sketch I tried to make I
must leave ten thousand unattempted. That made selec
tion very difficult.
We sent Mr. Paulding from Hong-Kong to Canton, to
see if we could give a performance at Sha-mien. He
wrote back, " There are not a hundred Europeans in the
place, and there is no theatre. It is expensive getting
here. But if the ' burra memsahib ' is determined to
come, I think we might clear our X.'s. Leave the
company in Hong-Kong, and you two give a Shakespearian
recital in the hotel dining-room. What do you say ? "
Perhaps I should explain that " X.'s" means expenses. It
is not theatrical slang, it is dramatic abbreviation. That
letter entailed upon me a mental struggle. I was anxious
to see Canton, and my husband insisted that if I went I
must " help him out " with the recital. In all my wicked
life I had never given a recitation — or at least not since
I was a nice little girl with a nice pink sash. Moreover,
I had said that I never would give a recitation. I did
not approve of them ; for that matter, I do not approve
of them now ; but Canton tempted me, and I was weak.
We made out a programme and mailed it to Mr.
Paulding. Mine friend was prepared with any number of
recitations, but the only one I knew was " Bingen on the
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A GLIMPSE OF CANTON
Rhine," and my associate feared that the audience might
have heard that before. Finally, I was put down for two
recitations, but it was not specified what they were to be-
My husband selected his three recitations, and we added
to the list four scenes from Shakespeare.
Early one morning, before our babies were awake, we
steamed slowly up the Canton River. I put the thought
of the horrid recital out of my mind ; and settled into my
cosy steamer chair and said to myself, " If there be an
Elysium on earth it is this — it is this." The day was
perfect. Ah ! how many perfect days this old world has
seen, and yet how she throbs and smiles and blushes into
beauty, and looks quite like a bride, the disreputable
weather-beaten old jade, and welcomes the kisses of each
new perfect day, and beneath those kisses assumes the
virtue of loveliness, even though she have it not !
We were carrying some hundreds of coolies, and some
thousands of fish to Canton. The coolies were tightly
packed behind a secure grating. The fish were poured by
hundreds into holes, purposely made in the side of the
boat. How they sprang for their freedom, the scaly,
silvery, speckled things, and with what splendid splutter
and splash they fell back into the water-filled hole !
There were four cabin passengers on the delightful
little bark. I was the only woman on the boat — fore
or aft. When I am the only woman among a boat-load
of men, and the weather behaves itself, I always say to
myself, " If there be an Elysium on earth it is this — it is
this ! " The three gentlemen were — the Editor of a Hong-
Kong paper, a charming fellow and a good friend of ours ;
an interesting German who spoke French fluently and
told me a great deal about Canton ; and last, but if you
please, not least, that extremely fortunate individual who
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
What a pleasant fellow the captain was ! He will,
most probably, never see these lines, and I feel it my duty
to describe him. He was my fellow countryman — and
the kind of man who causes you to hold up your head and
say, " It's a good thing to be an American." I am supposed
to be a bad American. I don't quite plead guilty to the
accusation ; but I certainly do not fill Sir Walter Scott's
ideal of patriotism. I fear he would even consider my
soul dead. My cosmopolitanism is far more than my
patriotism. But it always gives me a deep thrill of real
pleasure to meet in a foreign land — delightful Americans.
I think of my compatriots as some one thought of a little
girl whom they immortalised in the lines,
When she was good, she was very, very good.
But when she was bad, she was horrid.
No one is more charming, more admirable, than a
charming American. I know Americans whom the
children of no other nation can excel. If patriotism con
sists in praising the shrilly cackling, over-diamonded
women, and the ill-educated, shallow, opinionated men of
our hoi polloi — why then I am not patriotic. They,
beyond everything else human, set my teeth on edge, do
Americans the vulgar. But because I cry out at them
with genuine American acrimony, it does not follow that
I am stupid enough to think them the only Americans.
There is another type of American of whom I would far
rather think, and I wish that he travelled more. I mean
the man who stands hat in hand to welcome you on to
the porch of his Virginia home. I mean the man who is
superlatively a gentleman even when he carries our flag
through the wigwams of the wild west. I mean — oh !
well, I mean all that ilk !
Our captain was a courtly, cultivated gentleman. He
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A GLIMPSE OF CANTON
was highly educated, and had lived in China intelligently.
He was quite a perfect host.
Everything combined to make our little trip enjoyable.
The Chinese butler not only understood his duty but did
it. Dinner was eminently successful. But it was on deck
that we were happiest.
China ! China ! For all your great antiquity, how
new and fresh and fascinating you were to me !
Fortresses and pagodas dotted the banks, with here
and there a scattered collection of squalid huts. The sky
was royal, and the perfumed air swayed the branches of a
dozen to us unknown trees.
Just before we reached Canton we passed the leper
boats. The population of Canton is too dense for the
most truly paternal Government on earth to risk the presence
of lepers in the midst of the Cantonese myriads. The
miserable lepers looked out at us from the windows of their
boat-prisons. Had we been nearer they would have cried
to us for food and cash. The sufferings of the Asiatic
lepers are not exaggerated. I never went amongst them
(and in India I went amongst them often) without think
ing, " How long, O Lord ! how long ? "
Nothing impressed me as more unique in unique China
than the perseverance of the Roman Catholic Church in her
desperate attempt to convert the unconvertible Chinese.
The following telegram was recently sent from
Shanghai : — " The Roman Catholic Mission at Lichuen,
near the Szechuen border of the province of Hu-Peli, has
been attacked by a mob. The priests escaped into the
neighbouring provinces." — Reuter. Similar messages have
been flashed to us before ; similar messages will be
flashed to us again. So long as Europe overstrains the
forbearance of Asia, the blood of a few Europeans must
dampen the ire of the Asiatic populace.
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
I met in Canton a venerable churchman who has
been for many years eminent in Roman Catholicism in
China. Like all men eminent in the Church of Rome,
he was a man of the world, open-minded, cultivated,
and charmingly companionable. I ventured to ask him,
" How many Chinamen have you converted during your
long residence here — converted in the fullest, most
absolute significance of the word ? "
The old man looked across the Canton river, upon
which we were at the time. To our left lay the floating
prisons of the Cantonese lepers. To our right, floated the
" flower boats " of the Cantonese frail. Then he answered
me : " Daughter, none ! But " — pointing with his thin
white hand to the left — " we have alleviated suffering, and "
— pointing to the right, " we have checked sin. There is
yet great sin and great suffering calling out to us for help ;
and we are paving the way for the spiritual success of the
priests unborn. Rome of the seven hills was not built in
a day. Rome, the spiritual, will not be made perfect and
entire in a generation. Little by little we are gaining
ground here. A Chinaman pretends a conversion he does
not experience — for the sake of benefits we confer on him.
His children grow accustomed to our blessed symbols and
our holy rites. It is our great hope that his grandchildren,
or perhaps his great-grandchildren, may become truly and
entirely sons of the true Church. In the meantime, we
hope and pray and work, and do what good we may."
This then is the hope of Rome concerning China — to make
possible the conversion of the Chinese of the future.
For this possible future accomplishment Rome spends
vast sums of money — erects superb edifices — risks many
noble lives. The Chinese accept the comforts bought
with the money. They take shelter — when it suits their
convenience — in the buildings that they demolish when
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A GLIMPSE OF CANTON
it pleases their enraged whim ; and they destroy the lives
dedicated wisely, or unwisely, to their service.
Rome fails, and I believe will fail. The religion and
the life of the Chinese are one. It is the same with all
Eastern peoples except the Japanese. In the East, religion
stands for social sanctities, for hygienic regulations. Above
all, it is the national expression of patriotism. Moreover,
the religions of the East suit the peoples of the East. The
Christian religion does not. The Church of Rome, with
her fine Machiavelian wisdom, does her utmost to make
her belief appropriate to the Mongolian temperament and
mentality. Rome fails — because she attempts the im
possible. The religion of China (although in one sense
little respected) is the poetry of China, the art of China,
the tradition of China. It will make way, as the religion
of the North American Indians has made way, when the
Chinese are exterminated and ground in their native dust,
as the North American Indians have been crushed and
spiritually exterminated.
Can we blame the Chinese for their allegiance to a
form of religion which has satisfied their extremest ethical
need for thousands of years ? I, for one, cannot unquali
fiedly condemn them for their cruel inhospitality, when I
recall scenes I have seen in the Chinese quarters of San
Francisco and of Melbourne. I have seen a joss house
demolished by the hands of civilised Anglo-Saxons ; but
I deplore that China's not unnatural retaliation should fall
upon a self-sacrificing body of men who only seek the
good of China and the glory of the God in whom they
earnestly believe.
Three years ago, almost to a day, I visited the Roman
Catholic Mission which recently was destroyed by the in
furiated Chinese. What a waste of art and life !
Every Englishman living in China, who is not blinded
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by an overplus of religious enthusiasm, will, I think, bear
me out that the Chinese cannot be converted. An Angli
can clergyman lived and preached for twenty odd years
in Shanghai ; he failed to make many converts. But he
consoled himself inasmuch as he had snatched one brand
from the burning. His " boy," to whom he paid unusual
wages, was a most devout Christian. When the divine left
China he reluctantly parted with " Foo Sing," bestowing
upon him several Bibles and many yen. Half an hour
after the English mail had sailed, a friend of the church
man's met " Foo Sing."
" Well, Foo Sing," said the European, " what are you
going to do now Dr.  has gone ? "
" Me," said Foo Sing, " Me go chin chin my own joss.
English joss all played out."
Rome is attempting a great thing in China. Her
methods are dignified ; and the Chinese deal with Rome
with proportional brutality. At the American Missionaries,
the men of whom wear false " pigtails " and the women
modified pantaloons, the Chinese merely laugh. One of
the Chinaman's chief characteristics is his sense of humour.
On the other side of our good ship (to return to our
first entry into Canton), opposite to the poor leper boats,
floated the famous flower boats of Canton. They were the
prison palaces of the moral lepers of Canton. It was day
light now, and the small boats floated demurely on the
rippled water. The matting blinds were down. The
women were sleeping. When the sun had set, the little boats
of sin would sparkle with a thousand lanterns and tinkle with
a hundred guitars, and shameless mandarins would smoke
long opium pipes and sip small cups of hot, perfumed wine.
The unfortunate women of China are at least less
scourged by public opinion than are their Occidental
sisters. Nor are they sneered at by their righteous half-
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A GLIMPSE OF CANTON
sisters, nor slapped in the face by Mrs. Grundy's wee
white hands. They live apart.
We anchored some few yards from Canton, and then
began what we thought rare fun. A world of sampans
pushed about us, and the women coolies rushed on deck,
demanding our luggage and begging to row us ashore.
The women of the coolie class do all such work in Canton.
We fell into the clutches of a good-natured old thing
called " one-eyed Sarah." She was very fat, very rich, and
very jolly. Our friend the Editor chaffed her roundly,
but she took it all in good part, and gave as good as
she took. When we had accepted her as our boatman,
she screamed to two young girls, who ran lightly up and
shouldered our luggage quite calmly. My box was heavy,
and we had quite a collection of little things. Sarah
carried nothing, but she helped us all into her boat, and I
learned afterwards that she would willingly have carried
me because she thought I looked little and helpless. I
am at least a head taller than Sarah.
How wonderfully those women guided their boat !
They are wonderful watermen, the sampan women of
Canton. We were jammed among some hundreds of
other boats, and our position seemed inextricable and
perilous. But it was neither the one nor the other. In
and out they pulled, away from the steamer, up the narrow
water-way that stretches between Canton and Sha-mien,
until they landed us at the steps of the Sha-mien hotel.
Then Sarah did lift me out on to terra firma, to the great
delight of my disrespectful husband. " Little girl," she
said patronisingly, " but plenty heavy."
Europeans are not allowed to live in Canton. Even
to go into Canton they must have a pass or permit, which
must be shown to the guards at the city gate. Sha-mien
is the European concession. There live all the Occidentals
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who have diplomatic or other business at Canton. They
are only a handful — the European permanent residents
at Sha-mien ; eighty odd, I think, they numbered when
we were there — all told I mean ; men, women and
children. They live with their lives in their hands.
The moral force of Europe is great, but if the Cantonese
become vicious enough, they will rally across that narrow
bridge and massacre every European in Sha-mien. They
have done it before ; they will do it again, if they grow
angry enough. I hope that they never may. It is to
be hoped that they will be given no cause.
The hotel was a pleasant, clean, white place. It stood
upon green grass among green trees. A pretty little
donkey came and begged a biscuit from me. It was the
pet of Europe in Sha-mien. Our bills were profusely
displayed in the hotel hall. They made me shudder a
bit, for our recital was to be that night
" Do you know yet what you are going to recite to
night ? " asked my husband meanly.
" I think we'll cut my recitations out," I said sweetly.
" No we won't," said my husband. He even offered to
accompany me up to our rooms and try to teach me some
recitations ; but I refused flatly. When the night came,
I would get through it in some desperate fashion. But
now I was going into Canton.
Canton lay just across the canal. It was walled, as
every Chinese city is. We could catch no glimpse of the
city itself from Sha-mien. That made me the more im
patient to be off.
There are at least three wonders in the East that
can never be exaggerated : the Taj Mahal, sunrise on the
Himalayas, and Canton.
I forget our guide's name — we could not go into
Canton without a guide ; but he appeared very much of
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A GLIMPSE OF CANTON
a gentleman and spoke accurate English. We went into
quaint box-like palanquins. There were four chairs, two
for us, one for our Editor, and one for the guide. Three
coolies carried each chair. Across the bridge ; through
the guarded gateway : We were in Canton !
If I could describe it as perfectly as I remember it ! I
had expected noise and crowds, new sights, new sounds,
new smells, long endless streets, and tall, tall houses. But
what I found was ten times more. The streets were often
so narrow that, if two chairs wished to pass, one had to
retreat into the nearest shop until the other had gone on.
The houses were so tall that they seemed to lean toward
each other and to touch at the vertical point of sight. In
deed many of them did almost meet — they were so built
out with balconies. I don't know what was in the upper
rooms of those houses ; but certainly everything appeared
to be on the balconies. What clothing a poor or middle-
class Chinaman possesses beyond that on his back usually
hangs on his balcony. The Chinese have more cleanli
ness than they are accredited with by the generality of
Europeans. We went for miles in Canton without seeing the sky.
The density of the city, the swarming, seething inhabitants,
the variety of shops and trades, are indescribable.
The first shop at which we stopped was the studio of
painters on rice paper. And a very unstudio-like place
it was. The artists (two of them were famous) sat at
workman-like tables, doing their careful work. The rice
paper is lovely of itself, and the painting was exquisitely
done. Chinese art is a difficult subject. The Chinese
execution is often very delicate ; the Chinese sense of
colour is very true, though with the exception of their dull
predominant blue, all their colours are brilliant in the
extreme. But even their characteristic blue they use
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rather sparingly in their painting. Chinese drawing
impressed me as primitive, but not inexact ; but if I
were less ignorant about Chinese art, I might regard it
very differently.
I have a dozen or more of the dainty " rice pictures"
that were being painted in that queer unartistic Cantonese
studio. Not one picture has been painted by one man.
For instance, I have among them the figure of a mandarin.
It is not over six inches high, but it represents the
considerable work of three artists, one of them noted
throughout China. He painted the mandarin's face, and
told me that for thirty odd years he had painted faces, and
done no other thing, save to sleep a little, eat a great deal,
worship his ancestors, and chin chin his joss sometimes.
He was a courtly old gentleman, and smilingly allowed me
to spoil several sheets of rice paper, and waste sundry
brushfuls of colour, trying to imitate his methods. The
draperies of my little figure were painted by another artist,
and the hands were the work of a third man who paints
nothing but hands. There were men there who painted
nothing but leaves — others who painted only flowers.
There were other men who spent all their lives painting
one picture again and again. The picture they painted
one week, they copied the next. And one artist in that
room painted only caterpillars — he had painted nothing
else for ten years. He painted them exquisitely. It will
be readily understood that their execution was deft and
exact in the extreme, but that their work lacked breadth,
great atmosphere, and inspiration of design.
Next we stopped at a jeweller's. They were making
queer silver things, and inlaying them with infinitesimal
bits of bright blue feather. The finished ornaments were
more curious than beautiful ; but the wings that lay
upon the workmen's trays were magnificently beautiful.
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A GLIMPSE OF CANTON
Thousands of kingfishers are murdered every year to deck
these foolish Chinese baubles. I believe that the meat of
the birds is utilised for food ; and that, of course, makes
the crime nil — if we are to eat slaughtered innocents at all.
We bought ivories at one shop, and carved ebonies
at another. We saw baskets full to the brim with rare
pearls ; we saw seed-pearls sold by the pound.
Our journalistic friend had come to Canton on
business ; but he was neglecting it that he might help us
to see more thoroughly the city, which he probably knew
as well as any Englishman in China.
We pressed in between the busy looms in a big
weaving establishment. The men talked learnedly of
looms and like machinery all over the world ; and I
gloated over the marvellous silks and satins. We went
through such gorgeous collections of black furniture. My
husband, who rarely longs for any creature comfort beyond
a cigar, a rowing boat, and a horse, was as tempted as I
— I, who am always and so easily tempted, — and wanted
to buy a boat-load of the great, grotesque, carved things.
On our way back to the city gate, we stopped at a
silk shop, and my husband bought me a shawl that I
kissed for its sheer loveliness, and crepes that I patted
and stroked, and, when we were home, threw in great, soft,
silken heaps on the bed.
Chinese and Japanese embroideries are very different.
Each excels in some qualities. The Japanese are the
more admirable in the use of gold and silver ; the
Chinese are the superior in the use of many and mingled
colours. When we reached the hotel — none too soon, — my
spirits fell. We had a hurried but merry dinner, and then
we went upstairs, with just an hour and a half to spare
before our great " Shakesperian Recital."
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"James," said my husband, severely, — he calls me
James when I'm bad — " James, you're a villain."
" But you are a saint," I said in my most wheedling
accents. " And you know you recite superbly. You do
all the recital. Tell them I'm dead — make a speech
before you begin, you know. And I will sit at the door,
and take tickets, and lead the applause."
But he was uncoaxable. So I had to dress, and de
scend into the little ante-room off the dining-room. I took
with me a book of " Fine Poetical Selections," and searched
feverishly for something to read. I boast of having an
exceptionally quick " study," but, of course, I could not
memorise three poems in one hour and five minutes ; so I
had necessarily determined to read, and not to recite.
I was the unhappiest woman in China that night.
My husband was in a gale of delight. He had
trapped me into a recital for once.
Well, it began at last. All the Europeans in Sha-mien
— save one, I believe — were there.
Our little stage was very wonderful. While we had
been palanquin riding through Canton, three or four
coolies had brought into the dining-room pieces of bamboo
of different lengths. These had not been nailed together ;
they had tied them together with wisps of bamboo until
the stage was shaped. Then across the top they had laid
smooth planks. Into these even they had not driven a
nail, they had tied them in place. The result was a
perfect little stage.
My confrere opened the, to me, ghastly entertainment
When he came off, I seized my book desperately, and
marched to my doom. They gave me a cordial little
reception. I could have shaken them. Our friend the
Editor, who knew the full measure of my unpreparedness,
sat in the front row, trying manfully to look respectful.
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A GLIMPSE OF CANTON
Mr. Paulding stood gracefully near the door. He looked
anxious and nervous, and appeared contemplative of
flight. I thought of Demosthenes, and wondered how it
would do to begin by saying, " Men and women of
Sha-mien." But really they looked too gentle ; so I said
instead, " Ladies and gentlemen." My husband giggled in
the ante-room. I could hear him. I opened the book —
opened it by chance at " Ostler Joe." It wasn't quite long
enough, so I prefaced it with a speech. In that speech I
told all I knew, and a good deal that I didn't know, about
the history of the piece, the author of the piece — an
American woman who had made it famous in Washington ;
and I remember that I contrived to say something about
the Princess of Wales. At that they broke into hearty
applause. Then I began to read. The print was bad,
and the light was worse, but I struggled through in some
sad fashion. When I had finished, it was the most
astonished little audience you ever saw; and Mr. Paulding
had left.
I won't chronicle my other two selections, nor record
how they were received. But, I assure you, on my word
of honour as an actress, that I was not a success.
However, I am, I believe, justified in saying that the
second part of the programme was worse than the first.
The second part comprised four scenes from Shakespeare
— so the programme said. Mr. Paulding says that I
wrote the programme ; I say that he wrote it. My
husband, who, with all his faults, is a gentle, peace-making
man, says that the mistakes in the programme were made
by the Chinese printer. Mr. Paulding and I are both
reluctant to parent the programme when we recall how it
was carried out. The details of the " Four Scenes from
Shakespeare" were —
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
A Scene from Romeo and Juliet.
A Scene from Macbeth.
A Scene from Antony and Cleopatra.
A Scene from The Fool's Revenge.
At least so the Chinese printer said, but who could expect
a Cantonese compositor ever to have heard of Tom Taylor ?
I do not know which of the four tragic selections was
the funniest. Picture Romeo, Macbeth, Antony, and Bertuccio in a
nice new dress suit, nice new patent-leather shoes, nice
new white kid gloves ; picture Juliet, Lady Macbeth,
Cleopatra, and sweet, simple little Fiordelisa in a long,
black, jetted, sleeveless French frock, ridiculously long tan
gloves, and shoes that were monstrous Parisian burlesques
of the " human foot divine ! "
Need I say that there was no scenery ? I tried to do
my duty as a soldier of the mask should. But my
husband, who is a very shameless person, was in an
unseemly state of hilarity. And indeed, for all my
trying, I cannot say that Juliet's impassioned words fell
" trippingly from my tongue."
It was over at last, and the kind, patient audience
went sadly out Across the globe I send them my
greeting. Perhaps they will forgive me the dire distress
I must have inflicted upon them if they ever learn that
their misspent yen enabled me to see Canton.
How good, how English they were, those patient
people ! They would have taught me, had I not known
long before, that, whatever an English audience may think,
it is incapable of showing disapprobation to a woman.
When the poor audience had escaped we had supper ;
our editor, Mr. Paulding, my husband, and I. The
editor said that he preferred my acting to my reciting.
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A GLIMPSE OF CANTON
Mr. Paulding said he had enjoyed the entertainment
immensely — especially after he left. My husband laughed
and laughed, and I ate my supper and suggested a
midnight prowl through Canton.
But that, like much I say, was easier said than
done. The Canton gate was shut. So we said good
night and retired as nice English people should. I lit a
big flare of joss sticks in our chamber, for I had no
mind to forget, even in my sleep, that I was in Cathay.
We sat for a few moments on our balcony and spun
strange webs of fancied thought about Canton. We
struck, with our mental fingers, a thousand copper gongs
and weaved big fabrics of Mongolian romance. And all
the while Canton was asleep.
The Chinese are a very normal people. Though
their industriousness prods them to lamp-lit work, they,
as a rule, sleep as soon after sunset as they can.
The next day broke in big Oriental splendour. There
was to be no Shakespearian Recital that night. We were
going to spend the week in Canton, and I was the
happiest woman in Asia.
When we had paid to the Chinese dawn the weak
obeisance of buttered toast, fried fish, and superlatively
hot coffee, we sallied forth into Canton. How shall I
describe that week ? I can't describe it. I can only say,
" Go East — go East — go East ! "
We found the same chairs awaiting us. Our guide
looked brisk and ready ; he had not attended our Shake
spearian Recital. They carried us first to the Cantonese
execution-grounds. We did not go into them. I am a
curious, inquisitive, not to say a tautological female, but
I did not care to penetrate into that place of slaughter.
Three or four of our boys went from Hong-Kong to
Kowloon to see an execution. That was what they said ;
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
but revelations over which they had no control led me to
believe that they, in part at least, went to pit the hard-
earned wages of histrionic genius against the oblong gold
pieces of Chinese exchange.
They, knowing what a free-lance I was, asked me to
go with them to observe the extinguishment of sinful
Chinese life ; but my imagination is more than my
courage, and I declined. My husband was (what husband
would not have been ?) madly angry.
I have never known whether the boys were joking or
not ; but I am inclined to give them and myself the
benefit of the doubt and to believe that they were.
At all events, our Cantonese guide was in grim earnest,
and evidently felt injured because he was prevented from
showing us what he apparently thought the chief glory of
his native city.
If you too, good reader, feel deprived of your sanguinary
rights, I must refer you to the printed records of more
strongly-minded travellers. There have been many such,
and in their pages you will find your just due of gory
Chinese swords and of ghastly, trunkless Chinese heads
in big brown jars.
We spent several hours in a fascinating shop where
old Chinese robes and marvellous antique embroideries
were sold. My husband bought me a charming, magni
ficent cape that had belonged very many years before to
a mandarin. It was coarsely designed, but superfinely
executed open-work. Roses, leaves, and butterflies were
the burden of its embroidered song. The points of its
irregular edges were finished with queer, silky, crimson
knobs and wee golden bells. Last summer I took off the
balls and the bells and three ofthe most prononci butterflies,
and the former cape of the noble yellow man made an
inexpressibly effective zouave on my prettiest house gown.
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A GLIMPSE OF CANTON
We were a little disappointed in the temple of the
five thousand genii and in the five-storied pagoda. But
the flowery pagoda was a marvel of quaint beauty ; and
the changing, panoramic wonder of the streets never palled
upon us.
We had a Chinese lunch with a Chinese dignitary,
and he let me prowl about his mansion and the ridiculous
courtyard. He introduced me to his wife, and she
introduced me to her husband's concubines, with whom
she seemed to be on the best of terms.
In China " concubine " means something very
analogous to the " handmaiden " of Biblical times. She
is not a wife, but to Occidental ears the term is
best understood if it is translated " underwife ¦ — lesser
wife." After lunch we visited the sanctum of a Cantonese
editor, and from there we went to one of the large
popular markets. Shall I describe it ? Shall I try ?
Yes ; there were — black ones and white ones and gray
ones. The black ones are considered far the most choice.
Isn't it horrible to think of human creatures eating cats
and dogs and rats ? Is it not most horrible ? And yet —
why ? Can we allege one single sound reason against it ?
I think not And yet as I stood in that Cantonese
market I did feel for a moment very much as Hamlet felt
when he held Yorick's earthy skull in his hands. As for
my husband ; he fled. I wonder why men are in so
many ways daintier than women ?
It was a gruesome sight, that busy market-place, with
great piles of meat cut from animals we scarcely mention
when we eat. Poor pussies ! they looked very pathetic.
And I could have cried over the massacre of the puppies.
The rats hung in countless numbers upon long, stretched
strings. Probably I would better not describe more min-
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utely. It did revolt me. And yet I do not know why
it should have done so.
Unless we adopt vegetarianism and abstain from
eating aught that has possessed animal life and conscious
ness, I do not see how we can consistently condemn the
Chinaman, because he is less erratic than we in his selection
of food, and because he is the creature of a sterner
necessity than ours. If we consider the vast numbers of
Chinese that must eat to live, — if we consider the pro
portional density of the population, — I am sure that we
shall be just enough to realise that the Chinese must
utilise every available atom of wholesome food.
Emperors and heroes have supped off strange flesh
in time of war. According to some historians Napoleon's
larder was reduced to cat's flesh, during the retreat from
Moscow. The most elegant woman I ever knew, a French
woman who went through the Commune, told me once,
" Ze meat of ze horse, it iz very nasty, but ze meat of
ze rat it is nice, if you know not what it iz."
" The hand of little employment hath the daintier
sense." We tip-tilt our nice European noses at a great deal,
because we have had no usage of it. Sometimes we are
condemned as unreasonable. Prejudice and lack of
sympathy are near akin to injustice and misjudgment
We left Canton reluctantly. As we neared Hong-
Kong my comrade said to me —
" James, would anything on earth induce you to repeat
that recital ? "
" My friend," I said, " if I could have another long
day's prowl about Canton I would stand up and recite
the whole play of Hamlet all by myself, — and to an
audience of three." And I meant it.
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CHAPTER XVI
CHINESE PRISONERS
The Chinese people are law-abiding. With those of
their own number who are law-breakers they have but
little sympathy, and the Government has none at all. I
like China. I like the Chinese. Moreover, I respect
them. But in two details of their national life they merit
unqualified condemnation. Their hospitals and their
prisons are unmitigated national disgraces. On second
thought I withdraw the word unmitigated. The Chinese
hospitals through which I went were almost everything
that hospitals should not be. But the patients themselves
would most strenuously have opposed, most feverishly
have resented, any improvements along the line of their
own comfort. The savants of China are held back by the
taut ropes of public opinion, they are enchained by the
general ignorance, as savants are everywhere else.
The deplorable condition of the Chinese prisons is
justified in the national philosophy. To the Chinese
mind a law is a thing to be obeyed. A law concerns
millions, and conserves the welfare of millions. It must
be held inviolate by the individual, be his whim, his
personal bent, whatever it may. The Chinaman who
disregards any item of the Chinese law becomes a social
leper. Individual tendency, moral ill -health, inherited
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
traits, they are not taken into account at all. This is
cruel ? Yes ! But it renders existence possible in the
over-density of Chinese population.
A Chinaman is forgiven nothing because of his ances
try ; nor does he suffer for that ancestry. From the
moment of his birth, each Chinaman has, theoretically and,
as far as possible, practically, an equal chance with every
other Chinaman. Rank is nowhere more venerated than
in China. Nowhere does it secure to its possessor more
benefits, more privileges ; but it is not inherited. It is
conferred by the Emperor — conferred for personal merit
or for personal achievement. No Chinaman is " noble "
except through personal fitness. There are but two ex
ceptions to this rule — two only. The direct descendants
of Confucius have a rank of their own. It is a high rank.
It is respected ; but it gives them no power of interference
with national affairs. The descendants of an Emperor
are never less than royal ; but they have no necessary
power. In brief, then, in China " every man is served
according to his deserts," and it is greatly to the national
credit that they who do not " 'scape whipping " are so
very few.
A Chinese prison is called a " kamlo." Its outer
door is barred with bamboo, and is guarded by petty
soldiers or policemen. The kamlo contains two rooms
and two yards. One room and one yard are for men ;
the other room and yard are for women. The space set
apart for women is very much smaller than that for men ;
but the women's quarters and the men's quarters are alike
in being entirely devoid of any provision for personal
comfort or for personal decency.
Chinese prisoners are, by the Government, provided
with absolutely nothing but the space, beyond which they
may not pass. If their friends thrust food to them
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CHINESE PRISONERS
through the bars of the prison fence the law does not
interpose ; otherwise the prisoners may starve ; the law
does not interpose.
I have seen a woman feeding her husband while her
six children looked on and laughed. I have seen a boy
of nine pushing his hand through the slats of the fence
and dropping rice into the open mouths of his father and
mother !
I used to take food to the Shanghai prison-yards : I
was not jeered at. A Chinese crowd is, I believe, incap
able of jeering at a woman. But I was condemned for it,
and a high Chinese official remonstrated with my husband.
I used to buy Chinese food at a cheap chow-chow shop,
and, when I reached a prison fence, hire a coolie to feed
the poor starving wretches. I did not quite care to feed
them myself, and it was quite impossible for them to
feed themselves. No Chinese prisoner, of the class of
which I am writing — minor offenders — can reach his own
mouth, for his neck is invariably locked into a board
which is about three feet square. This board is called a
" cangue." It is very heavy and galls the neck ; it blisters
or ossifies the shoulders. The " pig-tail " drags heavily
over it, and pulls the poor enlocked head uncomfortably
to one side. It prevents the hands from lifting rice or
water to the craving mouth, and from brushing from the
tingling nose one of the myriad insects that infest the
prisons and prison-yards of China.
I bought a long wooden spoon, to the huge amuse
ment of the Shanghai gamin, and I never found any
difficulty in hiring a coolie to dispense my petty charity,
until one day, when I took rice to the women's fence. I
had been there often before, but on this day I saw a
strange sight. Three women were locked into one long
cangue, and the two other women in the kamlo-yard vied
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with the crowd in hurling abusive epithets at their united
heads. They had bad faces, but they looked very hungry
and exhausted. I could induce no one to feed them.
My amah, who was with me, caught me by the hand and
cried, " Clome holme, dome to you mallie man." I saw
that there was something very much amiss ; even my
'rickshaw coolies looked ashamed of me, and so I did
go home to my '' mallie man," as the amah called my
husband. We learned that the three women were pro
curesses. China does not, I believe, decapitate her female
criminals ; but the women who assist the downfall of
young Chinese womanhood are looked upon as criminals
apart, and as, than all other criminals, more vile, and are
given the excessive punishment of being locked together
by their necks.
Divorce is as facile to a Chinaman as marriage. The
concubine of a mandarin takes precedence of a coolie's
wife ; but the woman who is general in her immorality,
is despised and shunned. As for the older women
who trade in the frailty of their own sex, no one in China
has the least mercy for them, except, of course, the
missionaries. The position of woman is not, in China, altogether
inferior to that of man. It is true of the Chinese, as of
every other polygamous people I have known (except
perhaps the wretched Mormons), that with them woman
hood is in some ways guarded, protected, and re
verenced as it is not with us who live in the enlightened
West. A great deal of igjrorant nonsense is written about
China. Can a people who are so merciless toward crime
be largely immoral ?
In their treatment of China itself the Chinese have
been exemplary. And what proves more the virtue
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CHINESE PRISONERS
of a nation than the use they make of their own
country ?
To conserve the physical health and productivenes
of China, the Chinese have exercised the most rigid self-
sacrifice. For thousands of years the Chinese have developed
the many resources of their wonderful country. They
have had the great wisdom of patience. The southern
part of the Malay Peninsula and the island of Singapore
have been nearly devastated by the mad over-production of
nutmeg trees. Thousands and tens of thousands of acres
of North America are barren or nearly barren to-day ;
because the men who owned them, a few years ago, forced
from them larger and more frequent crops than Nature
had capacitated them to give. The Chinese have made
no such mistakes. They have asked no more from their
" happy valley of the Seres " than the surplus of her pro
ductiveness. Consequently, China is as full to-day of
mineral, of vegetable, of animal life as when it was virgin
to the husbandry of the first ancestors of the strange
yellow people who now live in and cherish China. Sleek,
dappled, big-eyed deer roam as fearlessly among the
pungent forests, and are as plentiful as when the old
Latin writers described the men of Cathay as " great
bowmen." Great silky hares scurry among the ferns.
Golden pheasants nest among the wild white roses.
Snipe and quail thieve fatness from the rice fields. Teal
and pigeons cool their feet in the wet, paddy beds, and
wee rice-birds plume themselves and swing and sway on
the swinging, swaying branches, of the purple-flowered
wistaria. Ah, yes, China has grown more beautiful with every
passing year, as a woman grows more beautiful whose
home-life is loved and loving ! Her children grow up ;
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
her soft hair whitens ; but the loveliness of content and
happiness beautifies her features, and she can defy old
age, for love and kindness have kept her young. A
happy marriage has made many a plain woman pretty.
China has been very happy in the race that has drawn
its substance from her. Her civilisation is one of the
oldest extant. Her architecture is antique. But she, in
her own person, is verdant, fresh, and smiling. She has
been loved and cared for tenderly.

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CHAPTER XVII
THE CHINESE NEW YEAR
If one had a great many debtors and no creditors one
might well wish on New Year's Day to be among the
Chinese a Chinaman.
Every Chinaman, unless he is a very Mongolian
blackleg indeed, pays his debts on New Year's Day, or
on the last day of the old year, that he may start afresh
with fresh books. Think what a splendid arrangement
if huge sums of money were owing to one ! Picture the
cruel inconvenience if one were deeply in debt !
I remember one long-ago morning in old Los Angelos.
I was a child. Very early I woke with a cry of terror.
There certainly was a terrifying din in the town. Out of
my window I saw a strange, threatening smoke, and
through the window came dire, gunpowdery smells. I
remember that I ran, crying, to my father, and sobbed out
that the Indians or the Mexicans were coming. But I
was assured that it was merely the Chinese celebrating
their New Year, and that I might eat my breakfast of
fresh figs and cream in the greatest security.
We had a " washee man " in Los Angelos, a long, lank
Chinaman with abnormally black eyes. He was a great
favourite of mine, and I taught him the alphabet (which
I didn't very well know myself) and the Lord's Prayer.
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He always treated me with great ceremony and respect,
and my baby mind was puffed out delightfully. I felt
that I was quite a missionary light — a friend and an
enlightener of the heathen. And I never could under
stand why my father laughed at me, and seemed unen-
thusiastic about John.
In America every Chinaman is " John," or at least it
was so in those days ; and we were ignorant of the man's
characteristic Mongolian appellations.
He was always in our debt a few dollars. I don't
know how he managed it, but he did manage it most deftly.
For one thing he never had any change, and he never
came for payment when my father was at home ; and as
of course, my mother never had any change either, John
usually carried some small amount over to " all same next
time." " There are no roses like the roses of Southern Cali
fornia, and no noise like a Chinese noise," said my father
as we sat on the verandah at breakfast.
As he spoke John came slowly up the garden path.
He was dressed more like a mandarin than a washerman,
but his face was very sad.
" How do. Halpie New Yeal," he said rather reluct
antly. Then he laid, most reluctantly, two dollars and
forty cents beside my mother's plate.
" What is it, John ? " she said.
" Chlange me owey you."
" You can take it off next month's bill."
John's bright eyes brightened, but he shook his head
sadly. " Must pay. China New Yeal. Chinaman must pay
all tin. Me pay plenty yen. All me owey me pay. Too
me pay Joss pidgen." Then he seemed to shake off his
sorrow at having yielded up the coin. He presented me

THE CHINESE NEW YEAR
with a box of fire-crackers and went away, with the peace
ful air of a Chinaman who had done his duty.
Wherever Chinamen are, the Chinese New Year is
observed in the same way. I have seen it in Los Angelos,
in San Francisco, and in New York. In Melbourne, on
the Australian diggings, in Calcutta, in Burmah, in the
Straits Settlements, and in China it is the same. Millions
of crackers fizz and explode ; that is the most noticeable
feature of the day. Friends and acquaintances call on
each other. Strangers choose the day to pay visits of
respect to Chinese notables. Debts are paid. Feasts are
eaten and shops are closed.
No civilised nation keeps so few holidays as does the
Chinese. New Year's Day is the one day of national rest.
It is the only day of the year on which all the shops are
shut The Chinese New Year is not co-occurrent with ours.
The festivities begin on New Year's Eve, which falls on the
30th day of the 12th moon of the old year. All China —
men, women, and children — sit up to greet the dawn of the
New Year. And they do greet it with the discharge of
millions and billions of crackers. I know a man in Hong-
Kong who is slightly deaf. He declares that his hearing
was seriously injured in Canton on one New Year's Day.
I myself have been in a Chinese city when the smoke
from the New Year's crackers was almost as dense and as
disagreeable as the London fog in which I am writing.
From midnight on New Year's Eve every Chinese
house is swept and garnished for the reception of
visitors. Joss sticks are lit before the family gods. The
black-carved furniture is polished. Newly-cut sugar canes
are placed beside the threshold, and an incredible quantity
of tea is infused. The master of the house remains at
home to do the Celestial honours to whoever may call.
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
The women of the family and all the younger men leave
home at an early hour, that they may get through a long
list of calls.
Each caller leaves a card. It is a long slip of red
Chinese paper. On it are printed the visitors' names,
titles, and addresses. Friends exchange presents of tea,
sweetmeats, ornaments, and fruits. They exchange long
complimentary letters, the writing of which is in China a
fine art. Every guest is regaled with tea and refreshments,
which range from absurd -looking sweetmeats to tinsel-
decked roast pigs.
On New Year's Day the Chinese wear their dresses of
ceremony and their festival dresses. It is every Chinaman's
ambition to be a mandarin. On New Year's Day every
Chinaman apes the dress of a mandarin as closely as the
law will allow. On New Year's Day in Japan — unless we
happen, as we sometimes do, to be in their bad graces —
every Japanese man rushes into a frock coat and under a
silk hat. But the Chinese are grandly insular always, and
they borrow nothing from us in their celebration of their
great national holiday. Ah Man's beau ideal of holiday
attire is a conical hat, a long silk cloak, gigantic shoes, and
grotesque stockings.
Whatever the Chinese do they do thoroughly.
Thoroughness is their chief characteristic. They are the
most industrious people in the world and the most tireless.
They rarely take a holiday, but when they do, they take it
vigorously. There are no half-way measures about their
merry-making. If they work, they work with a method
and a muscle, a persistence and an exactness, that shames
European industry. If they keep accounts, they compute
the fraction of a fraction far beyond where we lose sight of
it. If they drink tea, they drink it as tea elsewhere never
yet was drunk. And if they have a good time, they have
1 60

THE CHINESE NEW YEAR
it in all its details. Every lantern is lit that can shed one
more ray of merry light upon the festivity ; every shrill
instrument is played that can augment the noise and
hubbub. There is only one thing that a Chinaman loves
more than hubbub, and that is noise.
After noise and hubbub he adores gambling. At the
New Year season he gambles excessively. Gambling is a
most deplorable habit ; but the Chinese gamble so well,
in China gambling is such a fine art, that I must own I
loved to watch them play, and could never feel, at their
great national weakness, half the horror that I knew I
ought to have felt But gambling certainly is the cause
of great misery in China. And the New Year tide is the
gamester's carnival. Ah well, the Chinese have so few
faults that I think they can afford to plead guilty to this
one — grave though it is. It is a fault born of quick brains,
of strong nerves, of active fingers, and of daring natures.
Are you scowling at me because I say the Chinese
have few faults ? I repeat it. If you go among them as
I have gone, if you will win your way with them, if you
will come to know them as I have known them, you will,
I think, agree with me. The Chinese are not altogether
prepossessing to European eyes ; but they are, I believe,
worthy of all European respect and of great European
confidence. You have known some very bad Chinamen,
perhaps ? So have I. That proves nothing. Why, I
have known some bad Englishmen, — I have even known
one bad American. Travelling Europeans make no
greater mistake than in forming their judgment of a
great and peculiar people from the few members they have
slightly known of that big, national body. I was recently
present when an able and eloquent man said to one of
England's greatest physicians : " I have proof of ten fever
cases where the temperature has been reduced by the power
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
of  ," the remedy he was advocating. " Bring me ten
thousand such instances, well authenticated, and I shall
think that it deserves scientific investigation," said the doctor.
I thought that the acme of wise, prudent reasoning ; and I
wish that that eminent physician might make and record a
tour of Asia. Whatever he did, he would do well — his calm
exactness would make him eminent in anything. Agazzi
never laid down as a truth of the swallow family what he
had observed on the breast of one swallow ! We make
ourselves ridiculous if we judge the countless Chinese
nation by a handful of inferior Chinamen whom we have
known imperfectly. We might as justly say that Florence
Nightingale was immoral because there are unfortunate
women in London. Shall we call Tennyson illiterate
because our dustman is h-less and h-ey ? Shall we believe
the Lord Chief Justice a murderer because Whitechapel
once had a Jack-the-Ripper?
The Chinese New Year crackers must afford occupation
to a vast number of poor people. The varieties of the
crackers are legion, and the number fired every New
Year's Day is not to be computed by a small mind or a
limited arithmetician. We were walking once in interior
China. It was early in the Chinese year. We noticed at
some distance a strange scarlet hillock. We went curi
ously toward it. Not until we were very near did we
discover that it was the remnants of many thousands of
crackers. The burning crackers had been thrown upon a
bed of wild white roses ; they had scorched the leaves
and seared the stems ; but that had been some weeks
before. The debris of the crackers was decaying ; it
manured the rose roots, and the roses were pushing up
among the torn scarlet-cracker bits. A thousand fragrant,
waxen flowers were backgrounded against the red shreds
of the fireworks.
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THE CHINESE NEW YEAR
The beauty of China and the excellence of the Chinese
are vividly backgrounded by all that is grotesque or
faulty in the people of China. Strangely, we seem to be
blind to the flower, while we see the background only too
clearly. I have heard that the Chinese roses are scentless.
That proves how much I must be the slave of my potent
imagination. I thought that I had known no sweeter
flower than the wild white rose of China.
There is no country that we misunderstand more
grossly than we misunderstand China ; but there is no
country that can more afford to be indifferent to mis
conception.

163

CHAPTER XVIII
ORIENTAL OBSEQUIES
Chinese Coffins
If I may say so, without appearing over- anxious to
advertise my Irish ancestry, the most important event in
a Chinaman's life is his funeral.
A Chinese crowd is the culmination of human noise ;
and the Chinese are never so noisy as at a funeral. They
have hearty appetites at all times, but they never eat so
much as they do at a funeral feast. When I first lived in
China I used to find it almost impossible to distinguish
between a funeral procession and a marriage procession.
In the centre of one the coffined corpse is borne on the
shoulders of men. In the centre of the other similar men
bear upon their shoulders the bride, who is in an enclosed
sedan chair, and she is followed by her bridesmaids.
But, to the casual observer, the two ends of the two pro
cessions are quite alike in every other respect. Tom
toms, red -clothed coolies carrying roasted pigs and
other dainties, smaller coolies carrying cheap paper orna
ments of a Mongolian theatrical type, — these are the
invariable elements of both processions.
China, if you know it at all, is the easiest of the
Oriental countries to write about ; although it is very
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ORIENTAL OBSEQUIES
difficult to inform yourself about the Chinese, they are
so bitterly exclusive. For any scrap of information you
once obtain is necessarily exact. The versatile Japanese
have a hundred modes of life ; the conservative Chinese
have one. The Indian peninsula is inhabited by a
hundred distinct peoples ; peoples of varying origins,
speaking different languages, obeying differing laws,
wearing dissimilar dress. These Indian tribes intermingle
more or less ; their country is so over-populated that they
must But they learn almost nothing from each other ;
they adopt nothing from each other. They so rarely
intermarry that for the purposes of general writing I may
say they never do it. The narrow prejudice or the
magnificent conservatism (whichever it is) that has kept
the petty Indian tribes distinctly separated from one
another has kept the great unnumbered and almost
numberless Chinese nation a nation apart from all the
rest of the human world. But, unlike the rigidly conser
vative Indians, the Chinese have taken a great many
ideas from aliens. We must not think, because as a
people they will not mingle with us nor admit us into
their national heart, nor into their homes, nor into the
bowels of their country, that they never learn anything
from us. They have learned a great deal, they are
learning, and they will learn. But what they adopt from
us they so assimilate with their vividly characteristic
national modes of thought and life, that that superficial
mammal, the travelling European, never suspects that
many of the conveniences of everyday Chinese life are
adaptations of Aryan customs or of European tools.
The Chinese are to-day the most unique, the most
ancient, and the most misunderstood people on the earth.
I say the most ancient because they are the least changed
from what they were long centuries ago. The least
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
changed — they are not changed at all ! The China of
to-day is the China Marco Polo knew. In the thirteenth
century commercial intercourse was frequent between
China and Europe. A long caravan route extended
from the southern provinces of China to Genoa. The
men who took a year to go from their Chinese homes to
the great Italian mart, taking with them their precious
merchandise of silk and ivory, of tissue and of pearls,
differed in almost no way from the men that of recent
years have flocked to the Australian diggings and the
Californian goldfields.
Europe has pierced its aggressive way into China.
China, belching with its congested population, has over
flowed into Europe. On the whole, we have, I think,
been treated better in China than the Chinese have been
treated here. We have often been very rude to Ah
Foong. Nevertheless he has gained his point : he has
earned enough money to return to the Celestial Empire,
to live there in affluence, and to be buried there with eclat.
And when he has left Europe he has taken with him some
thing more than English gold. A few of us have been in
China. (I am not speaking of the missionaries — I regard
them as a people apart.) What have we gained in
China? A strange experience (to me a pleasant one), a
pound of perfumed tea and a bale of flowered crepe, for
both of which we have paid right handsomely. We have
been treated in the main politely ; but, sooner or later, most
of us are bowed out of China, if not by the Emperor, why,
then, by the climate.
The Chinese have, at least, three religions — Con
fucianism, Buddhism, and Toaism ; but the funeral rites
of the three sects are almost, if not quite, identical. There
are several reasons for this. The three religions are much
alike, and are all largely founded upon Indian Buddhism.
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ORIENTAL OBSEQUIES
Moreover, religion is a very second-class affair indeed in
China. The priests are not at all an honoured class ; they
are usually treated with open contumely. There are no
religious dissensions in China, it is not a matter of
enough importance. The priests of two sects often live
together in the chummiest way. Filial devotion is the
real religion of China. All China is one huge family, and
the Emperor is the " Great Father." By the way, " Great
Father " is what the North American Indians call God ;
and the Chinese consider their Emperor a god. How we
human atoms ring our petty changes on a few poor
thoughts ! There is one more reason why all Chinese
funerals are greatly alike. China is a land of ceremonials,
and the smallest details of those ceremonials are prescribed
by the Leke or Book of Rites. To disobey the least rule
of this great national manual is a crime, and a severely
punished one.
In two respects only does one Chinese funeral differ
from another. The first is in the amount of money spent,
and the second is in the period after death at which burial
takes place.
The first ambition of every Chinaman is to have a
splendid coffin. A poor Chinaman will half starve
himself and his family for years that he may daily hoard
a few cash toward the sum needed for the purchase of
the coveted casket. When the coffin is really bought, it
is brought home with great ceremony. It is given the
place of honour in the house, and is regarded as the most
valuable piece of furniture in the establishment. Often a
pious son will sell himself into slavery that he may buy
and present to his father an exceptionally handsome coffin.
Such acts of filial piety rarely go unrewarded by the Govern
ment. The obedience of children to parents is so much
the central idea of Chinese life, and upon it so largely
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
depends the safety of the Chinese Government, that that
Government, being one of the most astute and painstaking
in the world, misses no opportunity of strengthening the
idea of filial obedience in the Chinese mind, either en
masse or singly. Among the poorer classes it is customary
to buy a very thick coffin. No self-respecting Chinese
family (and the Chinese are the most self-respecting of
all the nations) will bury a parent until they can do so
with more or less Mongolian magnificence ; hence, in
China, death by no means implies immediate burial.
When a Chinaman dies his neighbours come in and help
the women of the family to make the shroud. The body
is put in its coffin, then the funeral ceremonies begin, if
there is money enough. If there is not, the coffin is put
back in its place of honour until the family finances look
up. That is something that occasionally takes time in
Europe. In China money is acquired more slowly ; the
coffined body often awaits adequately-ceremonied burial for
twenty or thirty years. I need not, I think, dwell upon the
grave necessity under such circumstances for a very thick,
air-tight coffin. Often a Chinese funeral entails the addi
tional expense of a long journey. A Chinaman will leave
his father unburied rather than inter him anywhere but in
the tombs of his ancestors, which may be in the most
distant part of China, for Ah Foong is rather a
traveller. The day of the death or the day after, the relatives
not living in the house and the friends come to pay the
last duties or respect to the deceased. When the visitors
arrive they are shown into a room in which are all the
women and children of the establishment. These latter
set up a dismal howl, in which the visitors join, or to
which they listen sympathetically. When the tympanum
of even a Chinese ear begins to ache, the guests are
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I'OOCIIOW SINGING GIRLS.

Page 169.

ORIENTAL OBSEQUIES
ushered into another apartment, where the men of the
house give them tea and refreshment. The refreshment
varies according to the means of the family. In the
house of the rich it is a dinner. After the visitors have
drank and eaten they are bowed out by one of the kinsmen
of the dead.
The dinner of Chinese affluence, wherever, whyever it
is served, consists of five courses —
I. A very rich thick soup.
2 Salad and meat.
3. Birds' nests, sharks' fins, and other very nourishing
dishes.
4. Stews.
5. Fruits and sweetmeats.
The first four courses are eaten with chop-sticks, the
last course is eaten with the fingers ; and is not that
the way that fruit always should be eaten ? Everything
in the first four courses is served superlatively hot. Except
a Chinaman is starving he will not eat cooked food unless
it is bubbling hot. I except sweetmeats ; and yet he eats
the most incredible quantities of ice. Wine is served with
all the courses — served hot. It is not intoxicating, and
has, to my palate, a very pleasant taste. I used to dine in
America with some people who were just a bit mad on
the temperance question. One day they gave me un-
ferrrtented wine ; it was an awful moment ! But the
Chinese dinner-giver knows the secret of keeping his
guests free from the possible ill effects of alcohol without
making himself ridiculous.
At a correct Chinese dinner the women look on from
behind a trellis work. The Chinese hold that the seat of
the human understanding is the stomach.
A well-conducted Chinese funeral is the most gorgeous
sight in Asia. It may seem to us a little tinselly, but
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
that is a mere matter of taste ; but I, who make bold to
like the Chinese, can't claim that they have in all things
a superabundance of taste.
At the front of the funeral procession walk the noisy,
musicless musicians ; then come men (they may be
friends, they may be coolies) bearing the insignia of the
dignity of the dead, if he had any. Next walk more men
carrying figures of animals, idols, umbrellas, and blue and
white streamers. After them come men carrying pans of
perfume. Just before the coffin walk bonzes — Chinese
priests. Over the coffin a canopy is usually carried. The
casket is borne by about a score of men. Immediately
after the coffin walk the children of the deceased. The
eldest son comes first. He is dressed in canvas and leans
heavily upon a stout stick. He is supposed to be too
exhausted by grief and fasting to walk without the aid of
this staff. The other children and relatives follow this
chief mourner. They are clothed in white linen garments.
White is the mourning colour of the Danes and of the
Chinese. The women are carried in chairs in the Chinese
funeral processsion. They sob and wail at intervals and
in unison. A Chinese funeral procession always has a long way
to go. The burying-places are invariably some distance
from the town or village. Usually they are on a high
place. Pines and cypresses are planted about them if
possible. The dead are supposed to be pleased at having
a pleasant situation for their graves. When a Chinese
family has persistent bad luck it is usual for them to
shift the bones of their ancestors to a more desirable
place. When the burying-place is reached the bonzes begin
chanting a mass for the dead, and the coffin is put into
the tomb. When the coffin is laid in its final position, a
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ORIENTAL OBSEQUIES
large, oblong, white marble table is placed before the tomb.
On the middle of it is set a censor and two vases and two
candlesticks, all of as exquisite workmanship as possible.
Then they have a paper cremation ; paper figures of men
and horses, garments, and a score of other things are
burned. These are supposed to undergo a material resur
rection and to be useful to the dead in the Chinese heaven.
The tomb is sealed up or closed, and an entertainment
concludes the ceremony at the grave.
The forms of Chinese tombs vary somewhat, according
to the province in which they are built, and very much
according to the means of the relative who undertakes the
expense. With the very poor the coffin is placed upon
the ground, earth and lime are packed about it, and a
rude grave is formed. With the rich a vault is built, in
the form of a horse-shoe. If the dead was of note or
position, the decorations of the grave and of the coffin are
very elaborate. There are a thousand interesting things
to be said about Chinese mourning, about the ceremonies
commemorative of the dead, and about the funerals of the
Chinese Royal Family. But they can't be put into a
paragraph, nor on to a page. So I leave them.
Chinese religion is so secondary an affair that it is
inconsistent. Theoretically, some of them believe in
immortality. In reality, I believe them to be the veriest
materialists, quite devoid of a belief in an after-life. And
yet they periodically carry food to the graves of their
ancestors. The Chinese are touchingly fanatic in their love of
home. China is so over-productive of human life that a
fearful number of the Chinese are uncomfortable from
their birth till their death. That is the only reason that
we sometimes see, as I did yesterday, a red -button
mandarin on the streets of London, and the sole reason
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that half San Francisco's soiled linen is washed by China
men. But wherever they go, they carry their coffins with
them. They hope to die in China, but, if by accident or
misfortune, they die in Europe, in America, or in Australia,
their last prayer is that they may rest in a Chinese
grave.

17:

CHAPTER XIX
ORIENTAL NUPTIALS
Chinese Espousals
THERE are no marriages in China for a hundred days
following the death of an Emperor. But on all other
days, marriage processions of various degrees of gorgeous-
ness follow each other along the streets in interminable
succession. Theoretically the Emperor is the only Chinaman who
sees the face of his wife before their marriage. As a
matter of fact, in the poorer classes, boys and girls grow
up together, play together, work together, and fall in love
with each other. And even in the richer classes, where
poverty does not drive the girls into public view, love
matches are not so very uncommon. Chinese literature
is replete with love stories. And the love poems of China
are remarkable from a human point as much as from
a Mongolian. The most important marriages that ever take place in
China are the marriages of the Emperor. To those
marriages every daughter of every Chinese grandee
aspires. When the Emperor ascends the throne, the
grandees of the court bring to him all their unmarried
daughters. He selects all that please him, and the
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
The Emperor of China never allies himself, directly
or indirectly, with any foreign prince. The Chinese Royal
Family is purely Chinese. The daughters of the Emperor
are often given in marriage to favourite mandarins. The
family that can furnish his Majesty with one of his many
wives — the family that can form an alliance with one of
the sovereign's daughters — is sure to gain great influence
and power, and to be loaded with many honours. There
is no limit to the number of an Emperor's wives, except
the limit placed by his own apathy. He is a very
absolute monarch indeed, is the Emperor of China.
There is, among the countless millions of his subjects,
one person only who may dare to differ from him, to
admonish him, or even to urgently advise him, — his
mother. There are two things in China mightier than
the Emperor of China : the mother of the Emperor and
public opinion. He must heed both, if they speak em
phatically enough.
But among his Majesty's many wives there is one
who is chief. She is called Hrang-Hou. She is the
Empress ; she enjoys peculiar prerogatives ; she is
usually a person of vast influence. The wives of a
Chinese Emperor are securely shut in a palace of their
own. They hold no communication with the outer world.
The outer world sees nothing of them ; but they see
China, very much as the people of a country village often
see the world — through a cheap stereoscope. If a wife of
the Emperor expresses curiosity about some famous city,
a miniature representation of that city is probably built
in the palace park. Which is one way of making the
mountain come to Mohammed, is it not ? The wives of
the Emperor are often allowed to sit behind gratings and
watch ceremonies and feasts. They are lavishly supplied
with everything except freedom, general society, and feet.
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I fancy that they are all well educated. I have never
known the wife of a Chinese Emperor ; but I have known
Chinese women of lesser rank who were positively highly
educated. And nowhere is education more valued — its
power more understood — than in China. Nowhere is
education more valuable, for in China a man's rank
depends solely upon what he can do or has done. It is
most probable that the grandees, who may aspire to
bestow their daughters upon the Emperor, give those
daughters — from whose influence they hope so much —
every possible advantage of education.
Chinese widows re-marry, but the practice is not held
in high repute. The widows of the Emperor can never
re-marry. Upon his death they are removed to a build
ing which stands within the palace precincts. It is called
the Palace of Chastity. There the widows of the Emperor
— with the possible exception of her who is now the
Empress Mother — must live and die. But they are held
in the greatest honour, treated with the greatest respect
and consideration.
The favourite wife of a Chinese Emperor is a very
potential lady, and she is rather apt to retain her
power. She is beautiful, according to Chinese standards
of beauty, or the Emperor would never have chosen her.
She is most probably a woman of unusual culture and
education. She is very possibly a woman of intellect ;
for she is a grandee's daughter, and no meagrely-
minded man attains to grandeeship in China. And it
goes without saying that she is the best-dressed woman
in China. She has nothing to do but welcome the
suzerain and to please him. She belongs to no society
for the advancement of her own sex. She may not even
write to the daily papers ; but she is rather warmly liked
by her royal master-husband for all that. And many a
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Chinese Emperor has been in despair at the death of his
favourite wife. In the middle of the seventeenth century,
the Emperor Chun-Chee, who was the founder ofthe present
dynasty, sacrificed, at the tomb of his favourite wife, thirty
odd slaves. That was a nice little post-mortem custom ;
but it has died out. Paper men are now burnt at Chinese
graves, that the spirit of the dead may not lack servants
in the after-life. And yet, as far as I could find out, but
few Chinamen really believe in an after-life. What a
strange inconsistency on the part of a people usually
so consistent !
I have said that only the Emperor's mother dare cross
the Emperor's will. But only the God of Marriage
knows what battles are fought and won within those
closely-guarded palace gardens, when the sovereign visits
his wives. I have very little faith in the powerlessness
of lock-and-keyed wives. In India I knew a Maharajah
who was abjectly afraid of his purdahed Maharanee's sharp
little tongue.
China is a huge place. Though customs are essenti
ally the same all over China, some of them are greatly
differentiated in detail. This is probably one reason that
almost all English written accounts of Chinese weddings
differ markedly. I fancy that a greater reason is that the
almost impregnable reticence of the Chinese makes it very
difficult for an Occidental to definitely learn much con
cerning the fundamental customs of Chinese life.
The age is very variable at which Chinese marriages
are contracted. I have seen Chinese brides of very tender
years, and I have seen Chinese brides who looked posi
tively mature.
Ordinarily a Chinaman buys his wife. He does not
see her (or is supposed not to see her) until the marriage ;
but his women representatives have a good long look at
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her and report to him, or to his parents, if those are still
living. If all the preliminary details are satisfactorily
arranged, the bargain is concluded. The bridegroom pays
the bride's parents the stipulated '' wife-price." He retires
to his own house and there awaits his unseen bride. She
is placed in a closed palanquin, a fantastic sedan chair,
which is carried at the end or in the centre of the bridal
procession. This procession is as elaborate as the means
of the contracting families will permit, and as grotesque
as Chinese fancy can invent. In it are lanterns, musical
instruments, fans, umbrellas, insignia of rank, and covered
tables on which are roast pigs and a hundred and one
Chinese dainties. The bearers of all these ornaments and
symbols are clad in bright red, or at least wear red jackets.
The musicians play, the crowd shouts, in sing-song Chinese
fashion, and the two bridesmaids proudly follow the sedan
chair. The chair is locked and the key is carried by a
trusted servant. The bridegroom waits at his own gate,
clad in his dress of ceremony. A Chinese dress of cere
mony is a most remarkable collection of remarkable
garments ; its colours and many of its details depend
entirely upon the rank of its wearer. The key of the
palanquin is handed to the bridegroom. He presses for
ward ; the crowd draws back ; the bridegroom unlocks
the palanquin and looks at its contents. If he is pleased,
he leads his bride into his house and the marriage is cele
brated. If the bridegroom is disappointed, the bride is
sent back to her parents and there is no wedding. But in
that case the bridegroom that was to have been, must pay
the girl's parents a sum equal to the sum for which he
bought her. Even after the marriage the wife can be
divorced and returned to her parents upon payment of a
sum identical with the " wife money " which was her first
price. The causes for divorce with which the Chinese
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popular mind is most sympathetic are those that arise from
the misrepresentation of the bride by her parents. If she
is less attractive in face or figure than she was said to be
— above all, if she has larger feet — every Chinaman is
justified, to the popular mind, in divorcing his wife.
If the bridegroom is pleased and the bride goes in,
the friends follow and a gigantic feast is offered and ac
cepted. The marriage ceremony itself is far less important,
I believe, to the Chinese mind than the marriage feast.
The marriage ceremonies of almost all the Oriental peoples
are strangely alike. The chief detail of the Chinese mar
riage ritual is, I understand, the tying together of bride
and bridegroom. Scarlet strings fasten them together,
waist to waist and foot to foot.
Nothing seems to me more difficult of description than
the position of woman in China. As I have so often said,
reliable and precise information is so hard to obtain. But
more than that, the position of woman in China is so
complex. As a wife she is placed beneath her husband
and is subservient to him, because the Chinese regard the
female as inferior to the male. As a mother she is placed
above her son, and he is subservient to her, because the
Chinese regard the parent as superior to the child. But
with the Chinese the superiority of parentage is far greater
than any possible superiority of sex.
My observation in China was, necessarily, limited, but
it was very earnest. It was my observation that the Chinese
men were not unkind to the Chinese women. I spent
some time among the water populations of Hong-Kong
and Canton. In both of those cities incredible thousands
live in the crudest native boats, — live in sampans. They
seemed very happy, contented little families, despite their
dire poverty. The women worked hard, but they were
certainly consulted about every family matter. I never
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saw a race of women who struck me as being less cowed.
I often used to watch them at their wretched meals ; it
was share and share alike, with the nicer share for the
wife and the tidbits for the baby. It is true that among
the poorer classes of the Chinese the women do tremend
ously hard work ; but it is also true that they are
tremendously strong. It is as true that women are forced
to stupendous labour wherever poverty is more the rule
than the exception. The Chinese women of the coolie
class labour in the fields, they break stones on the streets
of Hong-Kong, they carry heavy boxes on and off the
boats that anchor in the Canton river, — but they are not
ciphers in their own families. I do not believe that they
are ever cuffed ; I doubt if they are ever cursed.
A Chinese gentleman is superlatively polite. This
may not be generally known, because the upper classes in
China are so reluctant to know us or to let us know them.
But it is true. We know one Chinese family of rank
rather well ; we have eaten with the men of the family
and with the women. Truth compels me to mention that
the gentleman of the house had two wives. Whether they
ordinarily ate with him I do not know. I fancy that
their doing so when we were there was an act of consider
ation for me ; yet I am not sure, for they were easy and
self-possessed. And this I do know, that the men of the
house were most unfailingly courteous to them. I believe
that, on the whole, Mongolian married life is very fairly
satisfactory to the Mongolians. If they are satisfied, why,
in the name of reasonableness, should they be disturbed ?
If the women of the upper classes are not always, or even
often, supreme in their home lives, they are at least secure
of deferential and courteous treatment. One of the chief
proverbs of China — and I thought it a delightful one — is,
" You must listen to your wife, but not believe her."
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CHINESE SHOES
The Chinese women have enormous feet. They are
reputed " small footed," but our reputations often wrong us.
No Chinese woman has a small foot. But even a Chinese
woman's huge great toe looks small when in its solitary
deformity it masquerades as an entire foot.
There is nothing so characteristic of the Chinese as
thoroughness. The Chinese are the least beautiful of all
civilised peoples ; but when they undertake to be beauti
ful — even in the mere matter of their women's feet — they
do it thoroughly. They don't put a heel in the middle of
a shoe to make a foot look small, nor do they point
absurdly an empty satin toe. No ! They bend four of
the human toes back and leave the one big toe to do
apparent duty as a lovely, diminutive foot.
To us the small-footed women of China appear two
fold martyrs. We think them martyrs because they suffer
when the foot deformity is inflicted upon them. We
think them martyrs because their deformed feet are useless,
and disable them from taking exercise.
We regard exercise as a blessed privilege. The
Chinese regard exercise as a dire necessity.
We, in the West, do most things because we like ;
they, in the East, do most things because they must.
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CHINESE SHOES
That makes the great racial difference. It is not often
justly appreciated. Ignoring it causes us to do the people
of Asia innumerable injustices.
Chinese women know as little of tennis, of golf, of
riding to hounds — even of dancing in its fast and furious
Western sense — as we know of fish-eye soup and of
birds'-nest stew. And they care less.
The majority of Chinese women whose feet are bound
endure temporary pain, but they suffer no permanent
deprivation. To take voluntary and unnecessary exercise
— to take it as a pleasure — could never occur to a well-
balanced Chinese mind. The Nirvana of which the
Brahmins dream is the idleness which the most favoured-
by-fortune of the Chinese women realise.
Milton might have written of the small-footed women
of China (had he known them — had he felt an interest in
them), ' They also serve who only sit and wait' They
serve indeed a great racial purpose of repose as they
sit and wait for an Occidental enlightenment for which
they have no desire.
The Chinese are the hardest working, the most in
defatigable race on earth. Consequently the grandes dames
of old Cathay do even less material work than the leisured
women of any other country.
Nature is the great giver of recompense ; Nature saves
us from universal insanity ; Nature whispers in the ear of
the tired, overworked Chinaman, " Rest is the superlative
form of happiness. To be idle is to be in paradise."
The Chinese bind the feet of their women not out of
cruelty ; they do it partly out of a deformed, over-civilised,
national vanity, but still more out of a tender kindness.
The woman whose feet are " small " can perform no great
physical labour ; she cannot trudge beneath the burning
sun to tend the young rice plants ; nor can she pole the
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heavy sampans up and down the crowded Chinese
rivers. The Chinese do not incapacitate their chosen women
from enjoyment but from hardship. It is often said and
printed in the West that the feet of the women of the
Chinese nobility are bound, and that the feet of the
peasant women are left unbound. It has been said that
you can learn a Chinese woman's rank from her feet. I
have even see it recorded in good, honest-looking type
that the feet of all the Chinese women are bound.
Excepting only the descendants of Confucius there
is no Chinese nobility, save the momentary nobility of
personal merit. A mandarin who is " noble " because he
is able is most probably rich ; being rich he can afford to
bind the feet of his daughter. There is no necessity for
her to work. He can go further ; he can secure her in
perpetual idleness. Her feet are bound, and her bowl
of rice is placed before her ; she need never earn it by the
sweat of her pretty little yellow brow.
How the preposterous notion that the feet of all
Chinese women are bound ever entered the most stupid
Occidental head is inconceivable. I suppose that it
occurred on the same intellectual principle that impelled
a San Francisco friend to say to me, " You need not tell
me there's any good in any of the Chinese, for I just know
there ain't. I know two Johns ; they do my washing.
They're both thieves, they both lie, and they both
gamble." In the poorer class (we can scarcely use the word
peasant of a people by all of whom the highest nobility
is attainable) — in the poorer class there is apt to be one
small-footed girl in each family. If they can see their
combined way to support her, the feet of the prettiest
girl are bound. Don't fancy that she resents it. She is
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CHINESE SHOES
delighted. She does only light work after that. She
brings a better price in the vast Mongolian marriage
market. Haply, she will, in future, be able to aid and
recompense her devoted family. At the worst, they have
the satisfaction of feeling that they have rescued one of
their own flesh and blood from the seething, sweating
struggle for Chinese existence.
Chinese shoemakers are supreme. They are an
economy and a delight to every European woman who
lives in Asia. Their work is swift, deft, and faultless !
Their bills are charmingly little. In spite of the hard
times I am beautifully shod to-day, thanks to a little
yellow man who lives on Bentick Street in Calcutta. I
forget his name, but I send him a very hearty chin-chin.
Difficulties may arise with my landlord and my coal-
merchant ; but I am strong on my feet. I have a box
full of lovely shoes and slippers ; the most expensive
pair cost me six rupees. As a rule I furnished the satin
and paid my cobbler one rupee. I was with a friend
yesterday, when she bought herself a pair of French boots.
I saw her purse bleed gold, and my heart was full with
kind thoughts of my Chinese shoemaker.
In nothing are the Chinese more thorough than in
their stoicism. I only saw, well, one Chinese hospital ;
I never had the courage to go into another. In Hong-
Kong a friend who was attached to the English Hospital
took me through it and through the Tung Wah Hospital
The English Hospital was a great cool place of
succour, of comfort, and of alleviation. The Chinese
Hospital was a house of horror. There was system, but
I saw no comfort The Chinese gentleman who accom
panied me told me that the beds were bare boards
because the patients were used to nothing else and would
like nothing else. Why the insane ward was as it was
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he did not explain. Indeed I went into the insane
" ward " alone ; my two escorts waited at the door. There
were several good and sufficient reasons for this.
In the pharmacy all seemed excellently ordered. We
might, I believe, learn from the Chinese much of great
medical value ; their drugs, their instruments, and their
therapeutics all deserve trained and competent study.
The Chinaman dreads the knife as he dreads nothing
else ; and yet of recent years China has made great
strides in surgery. The Chinese pharmacopoeia is, I
fancy, exceptionally rich, and includes many potent,
efficacious herbs of which we know nothing.
I ought, in justice, to say that the Tung Wah Hospital
was clean. It was very clean, — but it was beyond words
dreary. It was a cruel place. The sick and the sick-
unto-death lay, I thought, absolutely without sympathy,
certainly without creature comforts. But there, it is so
easy for ignorance to be critical, so impossible for it to
criticise justly. Possibly those poor creatures would have
resented the sympathy and have refused the comforts.
So, at least, I was told. I tried to be fair. But I went
out of the handsome carving-decked waiting-room very
troubled about the Tung Wah Hospital, and very sure
that its insane ward was a disgrace to an island over
which the English flag floated.
From the Tung Wah Hospital we went on and up,
until we passed through the pretty lodge of the English
Hospital. It was a huge house of mercy. And the
pretty brown-eyed Sister who smiled me welcome to the
first ward had English roses at her belt.
The Chinese are heroically thorough in their struggle
for existence. China has an enormous water population.
I forget how many thousands or tens of thousands live in
the sampans of Hong-Kong and Canton ; but the number
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Page 184.

CHINESE SHOES
is gigantic. I made friends in Hong-Kong with a woman
who was born on a sampan, who was married from a
sampan to a sampan man, and who had, in the short sanctity
of her husband's sampan, been seven times a mother. She
had never spent five consecutive hours out of a sampan.
Her loves and hates, her distastes and her appetites, her
fears and her ambitions, were all bounded by the primitive
walls of a Hong-Kong sampan.
When you think of partly English Hong-Kong in all
its regal beauty, when you think of wholly Mongolian
Canton in all its super-Asiatic density, think of them
with an outer scum — a scum of poverty, a scum of
sampans. China, the prolific, has overflowed into the
yellow Chinese sea, and it is greatly to the credit of the
Chinese overflow that it has found life both palatable and
practicable. I saw in China nothing more wonderful than
the modus vivendi of the sampan people. They do all
that men must do on board their crude, diminutive
barks. Nevertheless, they keep the boats scrupulously
clean and very much at the service of any European who
will exchange a few sen for a long, soft float on the swell
ing Chinese sea.
Nature herself is thorough in China. When it rains on
Hong-Kong, the island is drenched with a wet splendour
that dwarfs into a mere mist all the rains that ever fell on
Europe. The last time that we were in Hong-Kong it
rained incessantly. Between the steamer and the hotel
our boxes were thoroughly drenched. I was very cross
when my poor trunks were opened, and my maid wept,
probably because she foresaw damp, additional labour.
We secured an extra room, and every effort was made to
remove the stain of Anne Nevill's black velvet from
Pauline Deschappelle's white bridal satin. But alas, the
trailing stain of the Chinese rains was over them all,
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and I am still the chagrined possessor of sundry costly
gowns that are not the colour they were, because they
have been soaked by the unexaggeratable torrents of the
Chinese storms. The rain came down, the rain came
across, the rain seemed to come up from the seething
earth. My thickening manuscript cries to me, " Halt." I have
left unsaid almost all that I ought to have said of China,
had my information and my capacity been less meagre.
And in the sheerest gratitude I should have chronicled
more that one feast on the Peak, and recorded how
sweetly the Argyll and Sutherlanders played Annie
Laurie, and how potent their uniforms looked against the
vivid background of the green Chinese flora.
There are sentences, or rather might be sentences, I
long to write — sentences unique with Slavic words and
Tartar phraseology — sentences descriptive of the Russian
seamen who 'rickshawed through Hong-Kong while the
Tsarevitz was peeping at Canton.
The Russian men-of-war were too bulky to slip up
the narrow Canton rivers. The Tsarevitz accepted the
locomotion of a smaller boat, and the Russian sailors held
in Hong-Kong high holiday.
From Hong-Kong we sent back to Australia about
half of our artistic corps. We were, as we thought, soon
going home, to England. My husband wished our
departing fellows God-speed and a glad return to their
Antipodean homes. I tried to wring Jimmie MacAllister's
huge hand ; and I wiped my eyes as the big ship carried
him back to the land of the Southern Cross — carried him
away from the green hills of Hong-Kong, where the red
flowers of China flashed upon the gray walls of the
English Barracks.
Of the amateurs who filled up our depleted ranks, I
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CHINESE SHOES
will say nothing, because nothing that I could say would
be enough. I believe that I am a wiser woman for having lived in
China. Certainly I am a happier.
There is, I think, if I may say it again, no other
civilised country that we misunderstand and misjudge
as we do China. There is, I emphatically believe, no
other nation so worthy, as are the Chinese, of our
sympathy and respect

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CHAPTER XXI
JAPANESE TOUCH
With the Japanese art is an inspiration. They are in
capable of bad taste in art. If their work is not always
great, it is always fine. It sometimes lacks depth, it
never lacks grace.
Lightness of touch, exactness of touch, characterise
all Japanese work ; but it would be grossly untrue to
say that all Japanese work lacks strength, depth, and
force. Much that the Japanese do, they do " from the
shoulder." Their cloisonne is rich, their carvings are
masterly, and on the stages of their theatres I have seen
handling of group -masses that was powerful in the
extreme. But finish and delicacy are the most general char
acteristics of all Japanese work. Even when the Japanese
are positively bold in design and execution, it is so well
bred a boldness that we are apt to lose sight of it, and be
absorbed in admiration of the details.
Japanese finish is so extreme that it is almost veneer.
The Japanese are as polished as their own lacquers ; and
all their work is a reflection of themselves.
Art and Nature are at their loveliest in Japan. No
where else is Nature so artistic. Perhaps because nowhere
else does there dwell a people so intensely sympathetic
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JAPANESE TOUCH
with Nature. In Japan the scenery is so perfect that
we almost suspect it of being studied. And the
Japanese architecture — of hut or of temple — is so ap
propriate to its background, so fits the landscape, that we
feel that both have been arranged by the same master-
hand. No other people can boast an art that breaks into so
many lines of beauty, and that smiles with such sweet
wealth of colour- harmony. But there are parts of the
globe where both Art and Nature seize upon us more
quickly and hold us more powerfully.
In the Alps, in the Sierra Nevadas, in Tasmania, in
Gippsland, in the Himalayas, Nature takes you by the
shoulders and shakes you — shakes a soul into you if you
never had one before.
In Japan, Nature has vines and blossoms in her hair,
and wine on her lips. She smiles into your face. She
stretches out to you her warm, dimpled arms. She has
bewitched you. You may tear yourself away from her,
but you will never forget her. She will haunt you in
your London club ; and when you are deer-stalking in
Scotland or yachting in the Norway fiords you will
close your eyes sometimes and feel once more upon your
cheeks the perfume of her breath. Her beauty has
mastered you. You love her, with a light love, perhaps,
but then, alas, the light loves are the loves that last.
You have escaped to honest English civilisation and to
Regent Street, but to the day of your death you will long
to go back to the gentle, scented embrace of the blithe
Nature that laughs and rollicks and lavishes her myriad
beauties on Japan.
I have seen strong men weep in Dresden and in
Rome, moved to a new emotion by some gigantic
achievement of Occidental art, — an achievement that was
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
great, but far from faultless. The great proportion of
Japanese art is faultless, but far from great.
After all, I have no right to decide what constitutes
greatness. Is a forest greater than a maple leaf? I
doubt it. Art is so infinite, — all artists are so finite !
The artists of Japan embroider with their pencils, and
paint with their needles. They follow their own art
ideal. Because it appeals to us less, it is not necessarily
a smaller ideal than our own.
The very delicacy of touch and mind that makes the
Japanese the most exquisite of all workmen, makes them
the most sensitive of all peoples, the most petulantly
resentful of criticism. I fear that it would be impossible
for a European to write an article about Japan that would
be inoffensive to the Japanese, unless it were an article
of unqualified praise.
We reached Nagasaki in the early daylight. So
should one always first see Japan. To touch the shores
of Japan in the dawning, to begin a new day and a new
exquisite experience, to steal with the sun into Nagasaki ;
that is something to remember for ever, with gratitude.
As we approached Nagasaki it looked like a collection of
cheerful Orientalised Swiss chalets.
Nagasaki nestles against the hilly side of fair, green
Kiu-siu like a quaint burr clinging to the petal of a huge,
lovely flower.
Japan in many parts is not unlike Switzerland
— Switzerland grown warm and comfortable, Switzer
land reduced to a minute scale, Switzerland burst into
myriad bloom and softened into a new and gentle beauty.
The sun lit up the island more clearly as we stepped
into the clean, little, canoe-like tug that came to take us
ashore. A long line of 'rickshaws, as impatient as pran-
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JAPANESE TOUCH
cing horses, stood at the low, sandy landing-place.
Hundreds of quaintly -clad, bright-eyed people, brown-
skinned and buff, were moving daintily about the delicate
scene. Over a very serious, but a rather lazy-looking wooden
building floated the Stars and Stripes, and the Union-
Jack -adorned British Consulate looked as eminently
respectable and as unpicturesque as did the official
residence of the American Consul.
Our family divided into three parties when we were
well ashore. I was the only adult wicked enough to ride
behind a " human horse." My husband went to call at
the Consulates, and to inspect the theatre, at which we
intended to play on our return. And Nurse marched
bravely off, leading the boy bairn, and followed by the
wee girl bairn, who looked like a great human snowball
in the arms of black John the Madrassi.
I made a bargain with a sturdy, cheerful -looking
jinrickshaw coolie, who spoke good English and better
French, and he started off into the heart of bright, busy
Nagasaki. That coolie was a genius. And, unlike many genii,
he had not mistaken his avocation. He was a capital
cicerone. He rang, or rather ran, the changes on the
Nagasaki sights in the deftest and most admirable
way. From the choicest shops to the queerest temple,
from beside the jolliest little vine-hung stream into the
densest coolie quarter, for seven hours he directed my
travels in a masterly manner. And just when the captain
(so he afterwards told me) was almost beginning to use
inelegant English, the clever little native whirled me down
to the shore, bowed me into a tug, clapped his hands,
laughed, and cried, " Sayonara."
I do not know what delighted me most in Nagasaki
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
I never knew what delighted me most in Japan, it was
all so delightful. Nagasaki was the first bit of Japan I
ever saw. I found in it a new charm. China was to
me like the land of the mighty magicians ; Japan was
fairyland. The Japanese islands are running over with flowers.
The Japanese temples are a-tinkle with the music of bells.
The soft-voiced people walk among the blossoms, and
their fine faces are aglow with the love of beauty, and
they themselves are innocently intoxicated with the
delight of living.
Nagasaki is so sweetly clean that one cannot wonder
that tourists who spend a few hours there rush back
to their boats and write to the journals of Europe
and America that the Japanese are the cleanest people
on earth. I thought that the first day I was in Naga
saki. Alas, I learned better in a dozen other Japanese
cities !
It was in Nagasaki that I first felt the full force of
Japanese courtesy. My husband lunched in an elaborate
fashion with friends at the hotel, but I begged off and
spent all of my seven hours in investigating Nagasaki.
When my coolie thought I had fasted long enough, he
dropped the shafts of the 'rickshaw and ran into a droll
little papier-mache" looking house that was perched on the
hilly highway, midway between the cemetery and the
bamboo-bridged streamlet. In a few moments he came
back carrying a tea-tray, and followed by a half-grown
girl, who had cakes and fruit in a lacquer basket. An
old woman toddled after, and spread a paper napkin on
my lap. I enjoyed my al fresco lunch very much, as I
sat in the 'rickshaw ; the sunshine danced about me,
but I was cool under the shade of an immense plum tree.
They brought me a strange copper bowl, filled with warm
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JAPANESE TOUCH
water, and when I had paid the reasonable bill, we went
back to the little paradise of shops.
The great works of Western art move us to awe.
Upon Europeans the universal effect of Japanese works
of art is a mad, insatiable desire to possess. Very good
people long to buy. I am not very good ; my enemies
say that I am not good at all. Certainly, until my
money gave out I longed to buy everything I saw in
Japan. But when my money gave out, as it soon did,
my one desire was to steal. I do not remember that I
ever did steal anything in Japan, but I often wanted to
do so. And my husband says that he mysteriously lost
a hundred yen in Yokohama.
European art — if it is great art — holds us at a
distance. Japanese art woos us ; we long to own it —
to stroke it. Japanese art is as approachable as it is
fine. Occidental art keeps us in our place.
I saw Nagasaki again, when we were leaving Japan.
Again our ship stopped there for a few hours. We
played Hamlet there ; it was an ethereal experience — a
fitting end of our stay in the daintiest, prettiest, most
mannerly country on the globe. We walked through the
moonlight to the theatre. The streets were silent, save
for the plaintive whistle of the blind shampooers. It
sounded doubly sad to me as I realised that possibly I
should never hear it again.
I have often wondered what Ophelia would have said
could she have seen half the strange flowers I have worn
in her name. Cowboys have brought me the wild flowers
of their wilder West (it was my wild West too).
Maharanees have sent me scented roses from behind
purdahed gardens. Gold kings and silver paupers have
sent me soft flannel flowers, and pink colonial roses from
the Australian bush, — in all the quarters of the globe I
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
have been the recipient of the perfumed tribute paid to
me because I represented, however unworthily, the sweet,
meek maiden who was the genius-born daughter of
Shakespeare's pen.
In Nagasaki we had a paucity of scenery ; but I
had a wealth of flowers for the " mad scene," and as I
wreathed the wistaria and the honeysuckle with the pom
pom-like chrysanthemums, the Japanese lilies, and the
matchless roses, I almost wept over them my farewell to
Japan. In the late starlight we went back from the theatre to
the boat. Japan was almost hidden by the night. We
stole into Japan in the dawning ; we stole out of Japan
in the midnight dusk. Fit beginning, fit end of an
experience almost too exquisitely beautiful to be a
reality, — an experience of which I shall always think as
of a Heaven-sent dream.
But between the early morning when the beauty of
Japan dawned upon us, and the night in whose deep dusk
we lost sight of the incomparably lovely islands, we had
many weeks of rare delight, — weeks spent in Hondo.
The little voyage up the " Inland Sea " was well-nigh
marvellous. The lakes and the mountains were as
intricate as a Chinese puzzle, and as beautiful as we fancy
the Garden of Eden.
Kobe — the Hiogo of yore — broke the sylvan panorama
of our sail and Fusiyama accented it. Fusiyama rose be
tween the green Japanese hills and the blue Japanese sky
like a white point of holy exclamation. It was dormant,
but a dozen lesser volcanoes threw up tongues of flame
as we passed.
In Kobe we found old friends — friends from London,
from Boston, and from Nevada. We found shelter in a
co.sy, well-cuisined hotel, and its presiding genius had
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once been our Boniface in Montano. We were given
great hospitality in Kobe. We made some charming
Japanese friends. I revelled in the Japanese shops.
And the fierce, rainy day that we sailed for Yokohama, I
was given such a roll of sumptuous black satin, on which
wonderfully skilled Japanese fingers had embroidered
great clusters of purple fleur-de-lis !

195

CHAPTER XXII
FOUR WOMEN THAT I KNEW IN TOKIO
Mrs. Keutako
Three of them were Japanese. One was the Anglo-
Saxon wife of a Japanese gentleman. Two of them I
had known in America. Two of them I met for the first
time in Japan.
The two girls whom I knew at Vassar College as
Stamatz Yamakawa and Shige Nagai had become the
Countess Oyama and Mrs. Uriu. My new acquaintances
were Mrs. Keutako and Madame Sannomiya. Mrs.
Keutako was a dear bit of Japanese femininity whom I
always longed to seize upon and cuddle. We were really
very good friends, though our conversation was very limited.
She knew two words of English. I had the advantage of
her inasmuch as I knew three words of Japanese.
Madame Sannomiya was one of the most powerful
personalities of the Japanese Court ; she was English,
but her husband was a high functionary of the Mikado's
household. I called upon her with no vouchment but
that of a few common acquaintances. I went to ask her
kindly offices for a performance of the Merchant of
Venice we were ambitious to give before the Emperor.
The attempt upon the life of the Tsarevitz threw the
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FOUR WOMEN THAT I KNEW IN TOKIO
Japanese Court into a trembling, mortified state of chagrin
that doomed our little plan. But I gained the acquaint
ance of one of the most uniquely interesting women I
ever met.
The four women of whom I am writing were, I
believe, rather familiarly acquainted, because the}- were
all, more or less, habitues of the Imperial palace. The
differentiation of their individualities could scarcely have
been sharper.
We reached Yokohama one night after dark. When
I woke in the early morning I dressed quickly and went
out for a ramble alone, — as I love to do in a new place.
I felt as if I had fallen asleep and dreamed of a fairy
land peopled by the figures off my best tea-cups and off
my summer fans. Japan is perpetually blessed with an
atmosphere as clear as crystal, as soft as down, and as
sweet as incense. Nature loves Japan with the tender,
yearning love of a mother for a favourite child. On
Japan Nature lavishes her most fragrant verdure and her
utmost picturesqueness of life. And, to end, she touches
the picture she has made with some delicate trail of
graceful vine, some matchless slope of hillside. She
adds to the figures on the canvas the seductive witchery
of unrivalled eyes, the grace of perfect manner ; and the
people of her favourite country echo her. The Japanese
peasant, who sits upon the floor to suck his meal of raw
eggs, has a handful of superb flowers in a graceful vase ;
and the floor upon which he sits is white and clean. But,
as I was to learn, Yokohama is nothing to Tokio. You
meet Europeans in almost every street in Yokohama. I
have been days in Tokio without seeing a European.
There are, I believe, only six European ladies resident in
Tokio, and proportionately few European men.
It was in Yokohama that I first met Mrs. Keutako.
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My husband had mailed a letter of introduction to Mr.
Keutako only that morning, and had added a line, saying,
" My wife and I are coming to Tokio for a few days next
week, and I shall give myself the pleasure of calling upon
you." The response was very prompt and very Japanese.
It was this : a basket of beautiful roses was brought to
my dressing-room that night, with a card on which was
written in English, " With Mrs. Henrico Keutako's compli
ments and welcome." When the curtain rose we saw in the
front row a Japanese gentleman in European evening dress ;
beside him sat a breathing Japanese doll, with glancing,
dancing eyes, and brave with exquisite Japanese raiment.
We sent out a note begging them to have supper with
us after the play. When the curtain fell Mr. Paulding
brought them on to the stage. How the dear little woman
bowed ; then she laughed and patted my hand, put her
dainty finger on her lips, and shook her head. I bore her
off in triumph to my room. Mr. Keutako was a Harvard
graduate, and had spent some years in England. We
could hear him and my husband talking in the next room.
But I don't believe they enjoyed themselves as much as
we did. My guest took a wild, childish delight in every
thing. She tried on my rings and made me try on hers ;
she tried on several pairs of my slippers ; she was greatly
amused at my hare's foot ; she pantomimed to me to
" make her up " ; she was in an ecstasy over my blonde
wig. The only English she knew was " Thank you," but
she said it over and over. While she was investigating all
my little belongings, I looked at her. She was dainty and
little, of course. Her skin was a few shades darker than
mine ; her black hair was dressed with extreme Japanese
elaborateness ; she was clad in robes of pale -blue and
pale -pink crepe, and an outer robe of rich brown satin
dotted sparsely with pale-blue flowers and lined with pale-
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FOUR WOMEN THAT I KNEW IN TOKIO
pink silk. Her obi was of black and silver, and was
fastened in front with three or four flashing diamonds.
She wore four or five more fine diamonds on her pretty
hands, and a big turquoise, that must have felt very heavy
on the wee finger. She wore a deep-red rose at her
throat. On the shoulder of her kimono was embroidered
her coat-of-arms ; that is a custom with the Japanese of
gentle birth on state or semi-state occasions. She had paid
me the compliment of wearing one of her Court kimonos,
though I didn't know it at the time. She wore segregated
white-silk stockings. She had thrown off her shoes before
she would come into my untidy little den. The only
European detail of her attire (except the fashion of her
rings) was a sheer white handkerchief edged with Valen
ciennes. I think it was rather an innovation, for she kept
drawing it across her little scarlet lips, and every time she
did so she looked at me and laughed. She was evidently
very puzzled to find that I had joss sticks burning in my
room. She moved like a bird ; she, laughed like a child.
She had gleaming white teeth, and that indescribable
charm of person and manner which is the great birthright
of every Japanese woman.
Japanese courtesy is infectious. When we were ready
to go, I took up her little shoes and tried to put them
on her. She snatched them from me with a pretty little cry
of affected horror ; she wiped my hands with her hand
kerchief. She laughed and bowed, and bowed and
laughed, and said " Thank you, thank you."
When she saw where the two gentlemen stood waiting
for us she skimmed across the stage like a humming-bird.
Seizing her husband by the arm, she spoke rapidly in
Japanese. He translated, " My wife asks, have you any
children ? " When he told her, " Yes, I had two," she made
him tell me that she had two. And then she danced back
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to me and threw her arms about me, and laughed so
softly. Bless it ! What a womanly little person it was !
We couldn't speak together. Considering that we were
both civilised, our methods of life could scarcely have been
more different. But our babies had made us friends. We
went to our 'rickshaws with her arm still about me ; and
I felt as if I were again a schoolgirl, whom some younger
child had singled out and favoured with a caress.
It is pleasant to ride at midnight in a 'rickshaw through
the streets of Yokohama. We seemed to be the only
living things awake. We glided almost noiselessly along
the silent streets. The naked feet of the coolies who
drew our quaint two-wheeled carriages fell almost without
a sound upon the soft roads. Whenever Mrs. Keutako's
'rickshaw ran near mine, she waved her hand and laughed,
and laughed and waved her hand.
Our hotel was run on European lines. It was very
late, and I was unable to make any radical change in the
menu of our supper. Mr. Keutako we found pleasant and
intelligent He was a prominent member of the Japanese
Parliament. He was evidently familiar with all our viands,
but our supper-table was palpably a mensa incognita to his
pretty little wife. She watched her husband with shy sly
ness, and tried to do what he did ; but I could see that
she didn't like our food. I managed to get a tin of salmon,
for I knew that the Japanese are as invariably fond of fish
as cats are. She ate the salmon readily enough, though it
was new to her, and she nibbled a few vanilla wafers as
she sipped her champagne, with which she seemed to have
a dainty acquaintance. When we had left the table I
asked her (through her husband) if the gentlemen might
smoke. She nodded and laughed, and drew from her obi
a microscopic silver pipe ; she filled it with half a thimble
ful of tobacco, mild as corn silk, which she carried in a
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MRS, KEUTAKO'S DAUGHTER,

Page 200,

FOUR WOMEN THAT I KNEW IN TOKIO
silken pouch slung from her obi. She lit it, using a match
with difficulty. She was accustomed to a small box filled
with glowing coals. She handed her pipe to me ; I found
that one breath exhausted it. Among many other things
typical of this interesting people, I afterwards learned that
all Japanese women of fashion carry their pipe and pouch
when they pay a visit. Their smoking together is an
interchange of courtesy. The tobacco is almost tasteless,
and one puff marks the length of the prescribed smoke.
Our husbands talked, and, at her request, I showed her
my baby clothes, and took her upstairs to see my sleeping
children. When we came back to our sitting-room, she
suggested, through her husband, that we should smoke
cigarettes. I had been in the habit of smoking, semi-
occasionally, one or two cigarettes in the strictest conjugal
seclusion. I never had smoked before but one gentleman ;
but I thought the circumstances demanded any possible
deviation from my usual customs. The gentlemen found
a great deal to say to each other ; while they talked we
smoked. The next morning I had the almost unknown
affliction of a headache. I learned from Mr. Keutako
that his wife suffered sooner and less pleasantly. She had
suggested, as T supposed, a Japanese custom. On her
part, she thought that she was proposing a custom universal
with European women. I have often wondered which
of the ladies of the European Legations in Tokio was
indirectly responsible for the maladresse from which we
both suffered. I often reflect how much better it always
is to be natural if one can do so without gaucherie.
A few days later we went to Tokio. I used often to
wonder how it was that people were content to live and
die in the gray Occident and never look upon the picture
of the Orient I never wondered more than when we
were in Tokio. I know of no capital in Europe so
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comfortably and generously planned, except Vienna. The
cities remind me of each other in many ways. The
streets of both are broad and clean. Both are rich in
parks, in drives, in trees, and in places of refreshment.
Both are peopled by a pleasure-loving, pleasure-seeking
race. Tokio is very beautiful, and it would be ungrateful
of me not to mention that Tokio has one of the best hotels
in the world.
The Imperial Palace is surrounded by three beautiful
moats, all strictly guarded. It is impossible to look upon,
much less to pass into, the holy of holies, the home of
the Mikado, unless your presence is desired there. Even
the members of the Legations know the palace very
superficially, and enter even its outer rooms but rarely. I
believe Madame Sannomiya to be the only European who
has really seen the interior in anything like its entirety.
The architecture of Tokio varies from humble to
elaborate; but it is all picturesque, and, in the heart of
the city, all Japanese. Many of the nobles, who chiefly
live in the suburbs, build very Western -looking houses.
The width of the principal streets is almost unequalled.
In the great parks blossoming vine strives with blossom
ing vine, and flowering tree crowds flowering tree. Amid
them stand quaint statues of quaint gods, and carved and
gilded figures. The distances in Tokio are immense ; but
I soon grew glad that it was so, — every inch of the long
way was so thick with interest. The bazaars have not
been robbed of their native colour by travelling multitudes
of Europeans. Around Tokio are her hundred temples ;
many famous, all marvellous, and not to be indicated by
a few hasty lines. The air blows softly through the carved
portals, and gently sways the golden bells that hang from
the jewelled ceiling ; and that air is unpolluted by the
breath of many Europeans. 202

FOUR WOMEN THAT I KNEW IN TOKIO
We visited the Keutakos. The father dressed as a
European. The mother, the children, and the servants
wore the national costume. The customs of the house
were Japanese ; but I was surprised to find the rooms
furnished in the European mode. There was a bust of
Scott in the library, and an engraving of the Coliseum in
the dining-room. When I coaxed Mrs. Keutako to take
me upstairs I found everything different She seemed
afraid I would not like it ; and I think she never believed
that I thought it infinitely prettier than the reception rooms
downstairs. But it was ! The floors of the long, shady
rooms were covered with cool, quaint mattings. One room
pleased me particularly. A long, low screen stood near
one end of the room ; an inviting cushion was thrown
near it. At the other end of the room was a tall blue
vase, filled with chrysanthemums and fleur-de-lis. There
were not a dozen articles in the room ; but each thing in
it was perfect. The Japanese always give a work of art
the advantage of being framed in ample space. This is
one reason why a Japanese interior is so effective ;
another reason is that they are very loath to give house-
room to anything that is not a work of art.
Mrs. Keutako was always at ease. We spent long
hours together alone. We could not speak to each other,
but she never let it embarrass her or me. She let me
amuse myself as freely as she had amused herself in my
dressing-room. She understood how glad I was to quietly
watch ordinary Japanese home-life. She had a hundred
ways of entertaining me. Sometimes she would beckon
me into the kitchen that I might see what was being
cooked, and how. She sent for her hairdresser that I
might see his wonderful methods. Sometimes she would
steal behind me as I sat reading, and drop a rose on to
my book. Sometimes it was her soft ball of a pet kitten ;
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
often it was her soft ball of a baby. One day she made
her amah undress her, and dress her again, that I might
see just what a Japanese woman wore, and how it was
put on. She emptied her chests of clothing for my
diversion. It was a wonderful collection. She was very
fond of dress, and her husband delighted in gratifying her ;
besides, she had many garments that had been in her
family for generations. She showed me her wedding-
dress, she kept it in a sandal-wood box, and touched it
reverently. She was devoted to her two little girls. They were
pretty, and oh, so quaint ! They were well-behaved, but
not painfully so. They climbed over their parents and
begged for sweets for all the world like my bairns. The
elder spoke a little English.
Their mother never was guilty of the stupidity of
speaking to me in Japanese ; but she would take a
fantastic little instrument (I forget its name) and sing
sweet, tinkling Japanese songs as she played upon it
for me. She had been brought up in luxury. She was the
wife of a rich man. She had plenty of servants ; still,
she sewed a little, a very little. But she supervised her
house perfectly ; and she helped her husband a great deal
in his political working. I have known her to copy notes
for him, and write from his dictation, by the hour, when his
secretary and he were over busy. And I know that he
often consulted her about the turn of a sentence or a
fact of history.
The last time I was in Tokio I was alone. I was
there on business, and I was hurried. I only found time to
call upon the Keutakos. She received me with the warm
affection of an old friend and all the ceremony of Japanese
etiquette. She gave me clear tea (no milk or sugar) in
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FOUR WOMEN THAT I KNEW IN TOKIO
rare cups, without handles, and about the size of big
thimbles. Then she gave me sweetmeats from a small
lacquered chest of drawers. Each drawer contained a
different kind of sweet ; they were all made of sugar,
tinted and shaped in imitation of some flower or leaf.
When I had to go she gave me a silver pipe she had
bought for me. It was in a satin case, and the case
matched a pouch which was filled with Japanese tobacco.
A little white box held the whole. I made her write her
name upon it, and mine. We often handle it, and speak
of her and her husband, and I set great store by the
excellent photographs she gave me of her two babies.

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CHAPTER XXIII
FOUR WOMEN THAT I KNEW IN TOKIO
The Countess Oyama and Mrs. Unit
Stamatz Yamakawa was born very near the top of tlie
Japanese social ladder. Shige Nagai came into the
world a few rungs lower down.
Assimilation is the forte of the Japanese. They
create nothing, but they improve everything tliey touch.
Japan was once conquered by China. The Japanese re
taliated by completely mastering every detail of Chinese
art, and developing from it a Japanese art system, superior
to anything the Chinese artists have ever been able to
accomplish. Japan was successfully invaded by the
Coreans ; her revenge was identical with that she took
upon China.
When Stamatz and Shige were babies, Japan had
turned covetous eyes upon Europe and tlie United States.
Not upon the territories of these countries, but upon their
modes of life, their social customs, their thought-methods
even. The Japanese are complacently conscious of having
the most beautiful country upon earth, and they quite
understand that they would cut a sorry figure in battle.
Japan never sought to conquer Western acres ; but
Japan longed to acquire everything that was good in
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FOUR WOMEN THAT I KNEW IN TOKIO
Western thought and in Western methods of life. Things
European became highly fashionable in Japan,- — the fashion
grew and grew. In ten years it was a rage. The Japanese
Government encouraged boys and young men to visit
Europe and America, and to there take University
degrees as far as possible. The Japanese Government did
more ; they sent eight or ten (I think it was eight) girls
to America to be educated. All of these girls were of
gentle birth ; several were noble. The youngest was
seven years old, the eldest was twelve. The Japanese
Minister at Washington, to whom they were sent in the
first instance, was instructed to divide the little band into
twos, and to place each pair into separate American
homes, — of course, only in the homes of men and women
of exceptional culture. Stamatz and Shige were received
into the home of Dr. J. S. C. Abbott, the historian. He
was a man of fine attainments, and the newcomers were
initiated into a simple home-life of great refinement. Five
and a half of the ten years they spent in America were
spent in that New England home. They met there a
considerable contingent of eminent Americans. Their
home -sickness was mitigated by frequent visits from
the Japanese students at Harvard. They saw the
purest American form of good behaviour. They
learned American literature with the rare advantage,
or disadvantage, of intimacy with many of the men
who were making American literature. They studied
English literature under a man who reverenced it. They
made delightful trips through the adjacent parts of
America with the best companionship. After five years
and a half they entered Vassar College at Poughkeepsie-
on-the-Hudson. Stamatz Yamakawa entered the fresh
man class of 1882 with a high average. Shige Nagai
was less capacitated to benefit by the prescribed College
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
course than by a more elective system of education. She
became an "Art Student," and devoted herself to music.
She was obliged by the College regulations to pursue the
lighter of the studies embraced in the ordinary College
curriculum. In the fall of 1879 — when they had been there a
year — I went to Vassar. A daughter-in-law of Dr.
Abbott's was one of my dearest friends ; that gave me
an added interest in my two Japanese college-mates, and
it secured me their immediate acquaintance. It was easy
to know Shige. Stamatz was exclusive ; she was very
brilliant. Shige was very sweet. They both wore
European dress. Stamatz looked like a very beautiful
Jewess of a poetic type ; Shige was broadly and in
dubitably Japanese. Stamatz was president of her class
in her Sophmore year. She was a member of the
" Shakespeare " — a club always confined to the girls who
were easily first intellectually. She took high honours
in English literature. She wrote charming essays. And
I noticed, when I saw her in Tokio, ten years later, the
beautiful purity of her English. She spoke, as she
always had spoken, with a slight accent ; but her vocabulary
and her use of it were flawless. Shige was never
president of anything ; but every one loved her. She
was invaluable at our fortnightly " candy pulls." She was
splendid on a sleigh ride, or when we went " coasting."
She spent half her leisure in the infirmary, coddling the
sick girls. She got through her examinations with
eminent respectability. She wrote stiff, correct English.
She spoke very broken English, and, when I saw her in
Tokio, her vocabulary had shrunk to meagre dimensions ;
and she used it with a fine disregard of narrow propriety.
But I have no memory of an hour's indisposition at
Vassar that I did not hear the click, click of Shige's
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DANJERO IN EUROPEAN COSTUME.

DANJERO AS I KNEW HIM. P. 209.

FOUR WOMEN THAT I KNEW IN TOKIO
funny little walk, as she came down the corridor bringing
me a pitcher of lemonade and unlimited sympathy. I
don't remember a headache there that her little fingers
didn't soothe away. Strangely enough when she wrote
to me, after I had left Tokio for Yokohama, I saw that
she wrote English quite as well as she did when we were
in Poughkeepsie. I never saw Stamatz excited, though
two red spots always flamed on her face the days when
the Japanese mails were due ; and I have seen her hand
shake as she thrust it through the window of our college
post-office and asked for letters. I have never seen Shige
when she wasn't excited. Stamatz was very beautiful from
every standpoint ; she was slim and tall for a Japanese
woman. Shige was plain ; she was dumpy and very near
sighted. She had a wee, broad nose. Stamatz was always
self-possessed. Shige was easily flurried. Stamatz played
a wonderful game of chess, and excelled every professor
in the faculty at whist. Shige was immense at blind-
man's-buff, and could dance a supremely ridiculous version
of the Highland -fling. Once a day they secluded them
selves in their " parlour " and spoke Japanese for an hour.
Stamatz was fanatic in her observance of this, and
compelled Shige to be as regular. Stamatz wrote a letter
" home " every day. Shige had all a schoolgirl's horror of
letter-writing. They spent four years at Vassar. Then,
after a six months' tour of America, they returned to Japan.
When we were in Colombo I learned from some
Japanese naval officers that Stamatz Yamakawa had
made a brilliant marriage. She had married the Minister
of War, Count Oyama, an elderly man of high position,
great power, and immense wealth.
As we neared Japan we heard the name Oyama more
and more often. The Count is very. popular. He is a
courteous gentleman, and is at the head of Masonry in
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
Japan. The Countess has become a noted hostess. She
speaks French and English fluently ; unless I mistake,
she speaks German and Italian well. She is an excellent
Latin scholar. I found her very changed — the flower
of her beauty was dead. The girl had been anxious to
maintain for Japan a high intellectual standard in our
little college world ; the woman seemed to be half asleep.
She had shed her Occidentalisms as she had shed her
Western habiliments. She had sunk back into the drowsy
ease of Oriental existence. She was four times a mother,
and she had four step-children.
Long before we could see the house we knew that our
'rickshaws had crossed the boundaries of Count Oyama's
Tokio dominions ; for everywhere were outdoor servants.
Some were binding up the gigantic rose trees. Some
were training great ropes of violet -flowered wistaria
around the tree trunks. Some were leisurely rolling the
velvet lawn. All bore upon the backs of their kimonos
a large Japanese coat-of-arms or crest — the arms of the
ancient house of Oyama. In Japan the members of a
noble family have a small reproduction of the crest woven
in or embroidered on their garments. On the clothes of
their servants it appears very much larger. On the robes
of the head of the house it is about the size of a sixpence.
On the back of a coolie the emblazonment is the size of a
generous dinner plate. Count Oyama's extensive grounds
were beautifully cared for. The house, which was large
and plain, and of Western architecture, was built of red
brick. It was partly covered with vines. The interior
was beautifully furnished in the best European style. A
few very rare and beautiful Japanese things were scattered
about each room ; but I know a dozen London houses
where things Japanese are more en Evidence, — though
certainly not things of such value and interest.
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FOUR WOMEN THAT I KNEW IN TOKIO
The Countess received me with all her old grace and
graciousness. She gave us tea and spongecake. The tea
service was old English silver. Her face lit up a little
when she told me how she should enjoy showing me
Tokio; but it grew listless when I mentioned Vassar. It
was evident to me that she had spent ten years in exile,
because the Mikado had thought it best. Her exile was
over, and she had little pleasure in recalling it. She spoke
as entertainingly as ever of the books she had read in
America ; but I could not learn that she had read one
printed page of French or English since her return to
Japan. I spoke of The Miscellany, a little college monthly
in which she had been greatly interested, and for which
she sometimes wrote. She said, she believed they
sometimes sent her a copy, but she wasn't sure.
She was dressed quietly, and with but two traces of
her Western residence. She wore bronze slippers of
Parisian make ; and her very beautiful hair was worn in
the prettiest and simplest of Greek fashions.
A noted European called upon the Countess Oyama;
he was accompanied by a Japanese gentleman. When
Stamatz entered the room her countryman bent seven
times to the floor. " Countess ! " exclaimed the stranger,
holding out his hand, " if I bow as often and as low as
that, I shall fall down. But I am extremely glad to meet
you." She smiled, and made his call very delightful ; but
she never forgave him. Stamatz Yamakawa was born in
the purple, and she loves it
The Countess Oyama was easily found. I hunted
three days for Mrs. Uriu ; and then I only found her
because it occurred to my husband to ride out to Count
Oyama's and ask for Shige's address.
The little woman's house was a two hours' 'rickshaw
ride from the Imperial Hotel ; and in Tokio there are
21 1

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
two coolies to each 'rickshaw, and they run very rapidly.
When we left the hotel we skirted the outer moat of the
palace. Then we flew through miles of streets, each more
interesting than the others. All were lined with booths.
We had a dissolving view of quaint bronze lamps, rich
ivories, unique wood carvings, and a thousand other
temptations. Is it not Sir Edwin Arnold who says that,
when he was in Tokio, he was tempted to sell his boots
that he might buy one more curio ? I did sell all my
husband's old clothes one day. He seemed to feel that I
had been indiscreet And I have a very choice bit of
Satsuma at which he always looks with a very queer smile.
I received a " collect " parcel from Yokohama a few
weeks ago ; when the housemaid brought it in, my
husband went into the hall, and brought me in his
overcoat, his best umbrella, and his crush hat. But " he
laughs best who laughs last," — I made him pay for
that parcel.
On the coolies ran. We passed the big, bare theatre
where Danjero plays — Danjero, whom we were afterwards
to meet, and also to see in one of Japan's classic dramas.
Next we crossed one of the great parks ; and then we
began twisting in and out of innumerable tortuous lanes.
They found the house at last ; but I don't know
how they did it.
We went up a funny little path, and knocked at a
funny little door. It was a minute house, purely Japanese.
The door slid back. The little fat servant fell on her
nose at our feet, and cried out some words of ceremonial
greeting. We couldn't make her understand what we
wanted. We couldn't make her get up. I tried to give
her our cards : I might as well have offered her an
infernal machine. Her mistress heard our voices and
came out The jolly little woman was not changed a bit.
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FOUR WOMEN THAT I KNEW IN TOKIO
She seized me by one hand and my husband by the
other. She had never seen or heard of him, — she hadn't
seen me for ten years, — but she instinctively knew who
he must be and adopted him with her funny little
motherly way.
She had forgotten most of her imperfect English, and,
just at first, we could barely understand each other ; and
then, somehow, the ten years seemed but as a day.
She overwhelmed me with questions about every one we
had known in our schooldays ; but not until she had
made us very welcome, and given us tea. She clapped
her hands three times, and the tea came in. In reality,
the servant brought it in ; but she came on her hands
and knees, and the tea-tray was far more conspicuous
than she. Shige sent for her five little children ; they
bobbed us queer little curtsies, with their queer little
bodies, and laughed and ran out
The only hint of Europe I saw in Mrs. Uriu's little
home were three old books and a box of cigars, which
she brought out for my husband, with a gleeful laugh.
She was so sorry her husband was away with his ship,
he was so nice. He was a lieutenant in the navy. She
was teaching music ; the Empress had founded a girls'
college, and she, Shige, was professor of the piano.

213

CHAPTER XXIV
FOUR WOMEN THAT I KNEW IN TOKIO
Madame Sannomiya
I THOUGHT her the most picturesque bit in the picture
of Tokio life : a European woman living among the
Japanese, speaking their language or her own indiscrimin
ately, as occasion dictated, preserving her individuality
and her national traits, and yet wielding an almost in
credible influence at the conservative Court of the Mikado.
In one way my fellow-Occidentals were a great trial
to me in the Orient. Their ungainly presence was always
blotching some otherwise flawless picture of Eastern life.
But in Tokio one so rarely saw a European that one
forgot to resent it when one did, and indeed welcomed it
as one more unique detail of an enchantingly novel whole.
I believe that Madame Sannomiya stands alone — the
one European woman, of high character, high intellect,
and charming personality, who has become a naturalised
and potential individual at an Eastern Court I have seen,
at the courts of native princes in India, European women
who, to speak mildly, would never be received at the
Court of St. James's, and who would be painfully
embarrassed if they were. But this European woman is
very different. She is the respected wife of an eminent
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FOUR WOMEN THAT I KNEW IN TOKIO
man. Her position is even very unlike that of the wife
of a foreign minister, who is tolerated by diplomatic policy
or welcomed by international courtesy. She is one of
the Japanese. They like and honour her. She likes,
and is certainly happy with them.
Yoshitane Sannomiya was the handsomest Japanese
man I ever saw, and by far the manliest-looking. My
husband, who had much talk with Mr. Sannomiya,
found him the superior of his countrymen in general
information, in mental grasp, and in his command of
English. A card of his lies before me as I write. Beneath his
name is engraved : " Vice Grand Maitre des Ceremonies,
et Maitre de la Cour de S. M. LTmp6ratrice."
He was a first favourite of both Emperor and Empress,
and I often heard his wife spoken of as the most influential
person at the Court. The statement seems extreme ; but
when I came to see and know Madame Sannomiya, I
grew to regard the expression as very conceivably exact
Speaking broadly, the Japanese never do anything.
They indicate everything. Madame Sannomiya indicated
nothing. She did everything. The Japanese have two
gifts pre-eminently : the gift of grace and the gift of
touch. Their national gift of touch amounts to national
genius. Upon a common piece of paper, with a blunt
pencil, a Japanese artist (and almost all Japanese are
artists) makes four or five strokes. When he takes away
his hand you see a picture ; not a thoroughly elaborated
picture, but a picture in which every detail is indicated
with inspired fidelity. He draws three petals — but draws
them so that you see the whole flower. Yes, and you
can smell it too, if your soul is half as artistic as his is !
Madame Sannomiya was graceful, but hers was the grace
of a large woman. Her grace supplemented her dignity.
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
The Japanese admired her dignity ; it was novel. It
indicated a strange force of character, and it was saved
from ever grating upon them, because it was never un
graceful. Madame Sannomiya had, rather than the gift
of touch, the gift of grasp. If anything interested or
concerned her, she thrust her supple fingers about its roots.
But her fingers were white and warm. She was super
latively a gentlewoman ; and her friends at Tokio
respected her thoroughness and energy of nature, which
they never dreamed of imitating.
I first saw Madame Sannomiya in her own house. I
went to her to ask her a favour — went without a line of
introduction. I wonder if any one ever lived who liked
to ask favours ? I hate it so much that I have almost
never done it. I believe that I can count the times,
partly because they have been so few and partly because
they have made such a nasty impression on me. There
were a number of reasons why this particular favour
should be asked of the Empress by me, through Madame
Sannomiya. I suppose every woman does her duty once
in a lifetime ; and I did my duty.
I remember that I felt very uncomfortable as I stepped
out of the Imperial Hotel into my 'rickshaw. But put
me in a 'rickshaw and whirl me through the streets of
Yeddo, and I defy anything, short of keen physical pain
or deep personal sorrow, to keep me in discomfort over
five minutes. I forgot everything in looking. We may
not all paint pictures, but we may all drink them in, if we
are blessed with real eyesight.
It was a long ride. I had only been in Tokio a few
days, and I drank deep, intoxicating draughts of beauty.
We went through streets of native shops ; not shops
decked out with things affectedly, exaggeratedly, or
occasionally Japanese — things grouped to snare the
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FOUR WOMEN THAT I KNEW IN TOKIO
heavy-pursed Europeans — but shops stocked with the
everyday necessities of ordinary Japanese life.
There is not, I believe, a European shop in Tokio.
Think of it ! It is the only place of any considerable size
I have ever been in that was entirely destitute of a
European shopkeeper.
We went through the quarter of the frail. I noticed
that the women were moving slowly, and that they were
clad in soft and dainty raiment. Then I saw that their
eyes were deeply ringed with khol, saw that the lips that
parted about their gleaming teeth were thickly painted.
I passed one woman whose lips, parting about her
blackened teeth, were gilded ! Then I recalled some
half-forgotten page of Mitford, and knew that I was in
the famous Yoshiwara quarter. I afterwards found that
I had not been in the old walled Yoshiwara, but in one
of the many new Yoshiwaras, or, to speak more correctly,
one of the flower districts.
Sexual morality is on so un-Western a basis in Japan
that only a long and careful essay could possibly give
untravelled Europeans any glimmering of its real char
acter. In one brief passing sentence, the women of
whom I am writing have in Japan an acknowledged and
assured position. It is not the highest or the most
respected, but it is tangible and unimpugned. The
courtesans of the world are unmistakable in their re
semblance to each other. They may crouch in tattered
tinsels on the steps of a crumbling temple in old
Ferozepore ; they wear furs in St. Petersburg ; they
drink champagne in Paris ; they may huddle together
from the sudden rain in a corner of Regent Street ; but
there is, the world over, an unmistakable sign upon the
faces of the women who have taken into their own hands
the highest law of life and broken it — the women who
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
have made the great mistake ! But this sign is faintest
in Japan. The women in the quarter of Tokio through
which we were passing looked at me quietly. They
neither shrank from my eyes nor peered into them. The
jewels flashed on their hands and in their hair. But the
wearers did not flaunt. They walked with a deliberate
indolence — these tawny lilies of the town — an indolence
which said, " They toil not, neither do they spin."
My coolies ran into the Shiba Park. I was in a
hurry, but I made them rest. Not that they were tired !
No self-respecting 'rickshaw coolie ever owns to being
tired until the journey's end. But I halted them that
I might look. It was the trees ! The " big trees '' of
California are more huge, the " Black Forest " is denser,
but for majestic beauty there are no trees like to those in
the Shiba Park.
Next we passed into the country. In the distance
the farm coolies stood ankle deep in the wet of the
yellow " paddy " fields. Here and there, where some
peasant farmer had planted the young rice plants
earlier, the yellow had turned to the softest, brightest
green. Now and again I saw a peasant's house, with its
cool, clean verandah, its quaint paper windows, and its
sliding paper- door. At least I knew it was there. It
was daytime, and every door was open. We passed a
funny little company of Japanese soldiers. The Japanese
play at war far less gravely than your boys and mine do.
Frankly, they are very droll in their martial aspect ; and
their exquisite good taste makes them conscious of this.
The land of the Hara-kiri is not the land of men who lack
fortitude in death. The Japanese know how to die, but
they do not know how to fight ; at least, not against Occi
dental forces. And, if they did, the odds are so prepos
terously against them that they must be beaten in any
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FOUR WOMEN THAT I KNEW IN TOKIO
conflict with a Western power. They know this ; and
they avoid war, and will avoid it in every way consistent
with their national self-respect, of which they have plenty.
Then we came to pretty, home-like places where
liveried servants — or their Japanese analogies — were
working in the ample grounds. We had reached the
suburb where the Sannomiyas lived. Their house, which
was a peculiarly dark red, sat far back amid graceful
shady trees and profuse fragrant flowers. I sent up my
card with a pencilled message ; for the servant who
answered the door could not understand the most
rudimentary English.
The drawing-room in which I waited was furnished
very handsomely. The necessary articles of furniture
had been made either in Europe or after European
models. The bric-a-brac and the ornamental pieces of
furniture (except the piano) were principally Japanese.
It was a delightful collection. The pictures, which were
very fine, were both Japanese and European.
A door opened noiselessly, and I thought of some
lines of Scott's — lines I had so often had the pleasure of
parsing : — The mistress of the mansion came,
Mature of age, a graceful dame ;
Whose easy step and stately port
Had well become a princely court.
I never learned who Madame Sannomiya was in
Europe, nor how she came to decide upon so unusual a
marriage and the consequent residence. But I knew
before she spoke that she was no adventuress. She had
had character and position all her life. Her every word
and motion proclaimed it. She had been facile in the
ways of many a Western Court before she became one of
the Court circle of Japan. 219

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
She was a tall, large woman, with a plain, strong face.
She had a quantity of waving fair hair which she wore
elaborately dressed. Her even teeth were large and white.
Her hands were over large, but surpassingly beautiful.
When I first saw her she wore a soft pink cashmere
house-robe ; it was touched here and there with sage-
green, which might have been Japanese ; but I was sure
it was French.
I have rarely met a better-informed woman than
Madame Sannomiya, and never one who gave me more the
impression of quiet force. She had just come back from
Kioto, where she had been sent as the representative of
the Empress to the Tsarevitch ; for I am writing of a
time a few days after the attempt upon the life of his
Imperial Highness.
Great preparations had been made in Tokio for the
reception of the Russian prince. The Japanese Court
was like a nursery full of children about to give a tea-
party. All the detail of the elaborate arrangements
had devolved upon the master of ceremonies, Mr.
Sannomiya. Everything had been so admirably planned
that I shall always believe it had in reality evolved from
the active, capable brain of his English wife. Then the
attempt was made upon the life of the son of the " Great
White Monarch " just as he was entering Japan. The
Japanese Court was like a beehive turned upside down !
It was a burlesque reign of terror. Every one that could
went to bed. The Empress set the example ; her
Majesty kept her bed for weeks and spent the time
crying. The entire nation seemed to expect the Russian
fleet to swoop down upon their little island and sink it
for ever in the deep ocean. The Mikado hastened to
the Tsarevitch at Kioto, and the Empress sent Madame
Sannomiya with him. It was the most sensible thing
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FOUR WOMEN THAT I KNEW IX TOKIO
she could possibly have done. Madame Sannomiya was
charmed with his Imperial Highness, and with his
princely, generous way of passing over and making light
of an incident which very nearly cost him his life, and
which did curtail his pleasant trip, for his Imperial mother
very naturally insisted upon his immediate return home.
What mother would not have done so ? For weeks the
Japanese Court eschewed all festivities.
A reaction against Western influence had already
begun. This contretemps fanned it into a flame. That
is not altogether to be regretted. It was a pity to see
the clear, bright tints of Japanese life shrouded by the
gray of our duller Western existence. It was a crime
for the women of Japan to disfigure their forms (or lack
of form) with inappropriate European gowns. I gloated
over Japan ; it feasted my eyes and my mind. I rejoice
to feel that the characteristics of her people are to be
preserved yet a little longer. Madame Sannomiya, who, I
am sure, loved Japan and sought its welfare, felt this
keenly. She was, however, ambitious for the Imperial
family to have the broadest cosmopolitan culture. Nor
was she a woman of passive ambitions. She told me
how she had deplored the adoption of European dress by
the women of Japan.
It was the second time I visited Madame Sannomiya
that she took me into her dining-room. Above the
wainscoting hung a remarkable collection of framed
photographs. They were all of " great folk " and all
were autographed. . Almost every crowned head in
Europe was represented there. The largest and the most
handsomely framed of the photographs was of Queen
Victoria. Madame Sannomiya was very proud of it, and
of the letter her Majesty had sent with it The Duke of
Connaught was ill in Japan. Madame Sannomiya nursed
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
him. When his Royal Highness had returned to Eng
land, his Queen-mother sent a note of thanks and her
picture to the woman who had the good fortune to serve
the Duke. I do not know why she was called " Madame "
Sannomiya. Her cards are engraved " Mrs. Yoshitane
Sannomiya," but " Madame " she invariably is through
out Japan. She always spoke of the Empress with great and
almost tender affection. I can well understand that her
sovereign lady has come to lean upon her, and often
finds it easier to bid Madame Sannomiya decide for her
than to decide for herself. Certainly " Madame " is ex
tremely influential, and I think she enjoys her influence.
No woman in Japan, not of the immediate blood-royal,
is so free of her Majesty's bedchamber ; yet no one
seems jealous. Added to the gift of strength, she has
the grace of tact.

222

CHAPTER XXV
TOM STREET
I HAD been in Yokohama about half an hour when he
opened our sitting-room door and informed me in charm
ingly broken English that he was my jinrickshaw coolie,
that my husband had engaged him, and that he was
ready to start as soon as I was. As it was about ten
o'clock at night, as it was dark, as I was very hungry,
and our dinner was just coming in, I entreated him
to defer until the morning the appointment my husband
had been kind enough to make.
" You did not lose much time in getting me a 'rick
shaw here," I said to my comrade as we were dining.
'' No," was the answer ; " a fellow waylaid me on the
verandah. He seemed amazingly ambitious to go, and
as you are more ambitious to go than any other person I
ever met, I thought him just the steed for you, and hired
him." I was up early the next morning — very early indeed
for me. I stole out, meaning to take a solitary ramble,
but my "pull man" jumped at me and intercepted me
with a clean, cozy 'rickshaw.
In all Yokohama there was not such another 'rickshaw
coolie, I am sure. He taught me half that I know about
Japan, and I am confident that what he taught me was
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
true — he taught it so inadvertently. He insisted that
his name was " Tom Street." He never would own to
having any other or more Japanese appellation. When
I saw that he really wished to be known, only as Tom
Street, I could not, of course, question him further. I
had a theory that he was a Japanese nobleman in dis
guise, but the theory did not merit serious investigation.
In the first place he had no disguise ; in the second
place, I fancy that the police is the most plebeian body
ever joined by a high-born Japanese.
The Japanese are very romantic ; they are sensational ;
they are emotional to a degree. They reminded me in
many ways of the French. They have more self-control
than the French, but are not without a French touch of
hysteria. The spirit of mad romance, of almost affected
chivalry which led the ronins of old Japan to deeds of
extreme, elaborate, and* artistic valour, is still rife in
Japan, and spurs her Jeunesse doree to strike strange
attitudes in strange places. The Japanese would some
times be ridiculous were they not so invariably graceful.
As a matter of fact, they are never ridiculous ; their
grace is so great that it amounts to national dignity.
We find a Japanese gentleman standing on civil guard
at the street corner. He calls us a 'rickshaw, tells us
the time, and is the angel of general information that a
well-regulated policeman should be. We think Japanese
situations amusing sometimes, but they never approach
burlesque. The Japanese have quaint epidemics. Once they
had a Chinese epidemic : everything with them was
Chinese. Once they had a Corean epidemic : everything
was Corean. Then they have almost hysterical reactions.
Some years ago they had a European epidemic. They
sent the flower of their youth to Europe to be educated.
224

MRS. KEUTAKO S BABY.

Page 224.

TOM STREET
The ladies of fashion sent to Paris for their frocks, and
every man in Japan who could afford it bought a pair of
English boots, a frock-coat, and a stove-pipe hat. When
we were in Japan a reaction had begun. Europeans
were less liked than they had been. When the attempt
was made upon the life of the Tsarevitch it fed the
growing flame of Japanese dislike of Europeans. That
dislike has, I hear, been growing steadily ever since. It
culminated a few days ago in an attack upon a venerable
Anglican Archdeacon, who was brutally assaulted on the
streets of Tokio. At least I hope it has culminated.
I hope there is nothing worse to follow. It will decrease
again as causelessly as it rose, this anti-foreign feeling,
and we shall ride again upon the pretty rainbow-hued
waves of Japanese popularity.
It all comes from the over-sensitiveness of the Japan
ese people. It never comes from their badness of heart,
for they have none. Their hearts are essentially good.
It is all a misunderstanding. Let us remember that, and
provoke it as little as possible. Above all, we must never
laugh at the Japanese. That they never forgive. I
laughed at them once. It was a tender, loving laugh, that
ought not to have bruised the wing of a butterfly, nor hurt
the face of a baby. It was a mere smile compared to the
laughter I have freely hurled at my own people and had
them join in heartily. It was simply nothing compared
to the uproarious laughs I constantly have at my own
expense. And I indulged myself in it at a most respectful
distance, away off here in London. But it gave great offence.
I once described a red house as white, a house I had
seen in Tokio some years before. This caused quite an
excitement, and I was condemned in eloquent, if not
elegant English in the pages of a great and good paper
published in Japan — but published in English.
Q 225

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
There is no people that I admire more than I do the
Japanese. But I must describe Japan as it appeared to
me, even though it brings upon me an abusive editorial
from far Cathay.
The Japanese are super-sensitive. If they were not,
they could not be the most exquisite artists, the daintiest
artisans on earth. We owe Japan so much — so much
that we can perhaps never pay — that we owe it to our
selves to deal very gently with her few faults. And they
are such gentle faults ! Let us remember that the Japan
ese are the most sensitive nation on earth, and that for all
their genius of assimilation they are not wholly en rapport
with our coarser Western ways.
And yet it would be to them a distinct national gain
if the Japanese could learn that the truest dignity does not
search for offence, nor seize upon it too trivially, — if they
could learn that no nation ever was or ever will be perfect,
not even the Japanese nation, and that no criticism that is
entirely laudatory is of the slightest value.
When we were in Japan the feeling against Europeans
mumbled and crept. Now I hear that it is standing erect
and declaiming loudly. It has been throwing stones and
mud in Tokio. It will fall asleep again, — let us hope
that it will sleep itself to death. Perhaps, if we are veiy
good and prove ourselves quite worthy the steadfast
friendship of Japan, we may gain it. That is to be desired ;
for Japan is the garden of the world — the Eden of the
nineteenth century, and it is a pity that we should be
shut out of it, or admitted on grudging sufferance.
Tom Street knew his Yokohama well. He knew
where all the pretty views were and all the lovely bits. He
used to whisk me round a corner with a dramatic, impressario
sort of air, when we came upon a place of exceptional
beauty. He would often stop and say authoritatively, " You
226

TOM STREET
draw that." Then he would saunter off to gather me an
armful of wild flowers. Many's the hour that I've sat a
few yards from some lovely thatched cottage and tried to
sketch it and a bit of its blossoming, perfumed hedge.
Tom always told me frankly what he thought of • my
attempt ; but he was a good-natured critic. If I had my
box of water-colours with me he would always contrive
to get me a dish of water, begging it from a cottage or
dipping it from a brook. Often I took my little son with
me, sometimes in my 'rickshaw, but oftener in another.
That never prevented me from sketching. Tom would
amuse the child for hours. Together they gathered flowers,
and Tom wove the flowers into queer combinations. He
built a house once of wild asters, and made a doll who had
a blush rose for a face and a gorgeous kimono woven of
wistarias. He used to teach my boy Japanese in a natural
kindergarten system ; and he told him quaint Japanese
legends and made him marvellous Japanese puzzles.
Sometimes they chased each other up and down the warm
hill-slopes. Often the baby went to sleep ; then Tom,
looking very important, would bring him back in his
arms, and put him on my lap or lay him in his own
'rickshaw. Tom knew all the choice shops and the crazy bazaar
byways where genuine curios were to be picked up, if one
had industry, perseverance, enthusiasm, and discrimination.
He took a keen interest in my purchases, and would often
ask the amah to show him the contents of a bundle. He
laughed with delight at my soft heaps of rainbow crepe.
He actually tried to buy from me a piece of bronze that I
had picked up in Tokio. He knew something of bronzes
did Tom ; for a Yokohama curio dealer offered me just
twenty-five times what I gave for my bronze vase, if
I would sell it. Tom told me bluntly that I had paid
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
too much for a piece of Satsuma ; but he was in an
ecstasy over a rather unusual water-colour I got in Yoko
hama. Tom was a very well dressed 'rickshaw coolie. He
wore strong, whole shoes, long, neat stockings, and a coat
or shirt, and short trousers of strong, dark-blue stuff. He
was crowned with a white straw sailor hat ; it had a
clean white ribbon on it, and in the ribbon Tom often
stuck a rose. He was a handsome fellow, splendidly strong ;
and, for a Japanese, very large. He was very anxious to
come to Europe, and begged us to bring him. He would
do any work we liked, and would work for two years
for nothing. He was intensely curious about the West.
He never questioned me ; but often, when he was waiting
for me, he would creep near the verandah steps and ask
my husband, " You do this in New York ? " " You have
that in London ? " " One strong man earn plenty in
England ? " He read English rather fairly and was
anxious to write it. My husband wrote his name for him
in a blank book. Tom was enchanted. Almost every
day he would bring the book to show how he had
improved. There were a great many Americans in Yokohama,
and they were all delightful people. We had a man-of-
war in the harbour, and the charming fellows who officered
it came ashore continually. Admiral Belknap very kindly
loaned us his band, and by doing so rescued us from an
orchestral condition that was dire.
What happy days and nights we spent in the home
of the American gentleman who is the editor of a
breezy Yokohama paper ! His wife and I had common
friends in San Francisco, and when I sat in her charming
home and watched her graceful ways, and her pretty
children, I almost felt that I was home once more. I
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TOM STREET
should have quite thought it but for the strange flowers
in the vases and the kimonoed servants. I have every
where found newspaper people a most delightful part of
the community. In Yokohama, in Shanghai, in Hong-
Kong, in Singapore, in Calcutta, and in a score of other
Eastern places I remember with very great pleasure our
journalistic friends. Soldiers and sailors and their wives
are a little nicer than other people, I think, and next to
them I have found the ink-stained fraternity companionable,
interesting, and likeable.
" What about actors ? " some one asks. They are my
brothers and sisters ; I am proud of them and I love
them. But it will be more becoming of me, perhaps, to let
some other pen praise them. Then, too, we met very few
actors in the East, save our own little contingent.
Two charming Boston women used to send me white
roses from their pretty garden. What a place of delight
and of restful refinement their house was ! I love to
think of it, and of them. In all Yokohama we did not
meet one obnoxious American. There is no society
more delightful than the nicest American society, and
in Yokohama there was great social wealth, — American
and English.
We were out in our 'rickshaw, my boy and I, on the
thirtieth of May. Tom pulled aside to let a little pro
cession pass, and my heart gave a great thump. The
man-of-war's men came marching slowly on. They carried
the United States flag at their head, and the band was
playing, " Hail Columbia." It was Decoration Day, and
the Americans in Yokohama had been through the
scorching sun to lay roses on the graves of the American
sailors who had died in Japan and been buried in the
Yokohama European Cemetery.
Night falls upon Japan a starlit blessing. I used in
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Yokohama to go, between the acts, on to the landing of
the theatre outer steps. They were the steps that led to
the " stage door " and were nowhere near the parts of the
house to which the public had egress. How strange it
used to seem to me ! The steps led down to a fantastic
garden. The flowers were hidden beneath the gray
shadows of the big-leafed trees. The band — the kindly-
loaned band of our flag-ship — was playing, " Way down
upon the Swannee Ribber." Then they changed into,
" Massa's in the cold, cold Ground." As the sweet darky
melody sobbed into silence, the pathetic music of the
blind shampooer's cry came from the city, and the most
plaintive song of Japan mingled with the most plaintive
song of America.
I know nothing more characteristic of Japanese good
taste and of Japanese kindliness than the place of profit
able industry that Japan has found for her blind. In
Japan massage is only a less perfect luxury, a less perfect
fine art, than it is in Hindoostan. And what could be
more fit, what could speak more trumpet-mouthed of their
national delicacy, than that to the blind of that nation
has been given the monopoly of massage ?
They walk about the streets alone — do the blind
shampooers of Japan. They are as fearless as they are
safe. The sad note of their whistle is an appeal to the
kindness and the protection of their people. It is an
appeal that is answered with universal and invariable
generosity and chivalry. I remember, in Japan, many a
night that was absolutely silent save for the sorrowful
sound of these poor sightless givers of rest and of sleep.
I recall no night through which I did not hear their one
drear note.
I long to tell how we did not play before the Mikado.
But there must be limits to a chapter, even when it is
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TOM STREET
written by a woman ; and I must squeeze the story of
nights of plotting and days of diplomacy into a page.
We were ambitious to play the Alerchant of Venice
before his Majesty and his Court. We brought to bear
influence that we thought not inconsiderable, but we
failed. We might, perhaps, have succeeded had it not
been for the mad coolie who tried to kill the Tsarevitch.
That struck a deathblow to our hope, and we missed
the privilege we craved of unfurling the banner we loved,
the pennant of great English drama, in the palace of the
Mikado. But we tried very hard, and to our persist
ence I, at least, owe many of my happiest memories.
" All successes rise phcenix-like from the ashes of some
failure." We failed to play before the Mikado, — but to
that failure I owe the two most unique experiences I had
in Japan. One was a jinrickshaw ride from Yokohoma to Tokio,
the other was a performance of JiUius Ccesar that we
gave in a Japanese theatre to a Japanese audience. Not
an audience of cosmopolitanised Japanese, but an audience
of the insular Japanese populace. That was the funnier
experience ; the other was the more enjoyable.
As a matter of fact, we played twice in the Japanese
theatre ; once in the afternoon, once in the evening. Our
auditors sat on benches — very low benches — -and squatted
on the auditorium floor. They behaved better than we
did, for we laughed when we should have been tragic. I
was sorry at the time for my individual misconduct. I
had not been guilty of inappropriate laughter on the stage
since the first season of my professional life. But they
were so irresistibly funny, those hundreds of gaping,
kimonoed humans. Many of them, very many, were
women. Every woman seemed to have a baby, and
the yellow rolly-polies did everything that babies would
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
naturally be expected to do at a very fine performance of
Julius Cczsar. It was a droll experience ; but we were
glad the next night to return to the European theatre and
our more sophisticatedly sympathetic audience.
I had great difficulty in inducing Tom Street to pull
me from Yokohama to Tokio. He assured me that I
could, in a fraction of the time and for far less money, go
on the train. I assured him that I knew all that, but
that I had often been by train, and that I was determined
to go once by 'rickshaw. Tom was positively melancholy,
but after I had threatened him and my husband had
bribed him, he consented. I forget how far it is
from Yokohama ; I never remember those nice sensible
useful points. But it was between fifteen and twenty
miles. We started in the early dawn, which in Japan, in
June, is very early indeed. John, the Madrassi, was up
betimes, and bullied some one into boiling me an egg and
making me a cup of coffee. My husband drew an
ulster over his kimono and came out to see me start.
Amah lined the 'rickshaw with a lot of cushions and we
started. Tom had a mate, a happy looking, muscular fellow.
He was called a "push man." In Tokio when there are
two coolies to one 'rickshaw they both pull, running
tandem ; but in Yokohama when there are two, one pulls
and one goes behind and pushes. One is a " pull man " ;
one is a " push man."
Tom and his fellow changed places several times en
route to Tokio. They rested twice ; about fifteen minutes
each time. Three hours and a half after I left Yokohama,
I had had a warm bath and was leisurely eating my
delicious breakfast in the Tokio hotel.
Our journey had been through the country and through
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TOM STREET
small villages — villages where you might search in vain
for one taint of Europe.
I questioned Tom about everything I saw that morn
ing, and about everything he told me intelligently enough,
and, as I afterwards learned, accurately. He was one of
the people, and he knew them and the manner of their lives.
About half-way between Yokohama and Yeddo we
halted at a toll-gate. I paid the few coppers the old
woman in charge demanded of me in the name of the
Government. I bought a horrible liquid something that
I could not drink ; my coolies ate raw eggs with gusto ;
and then on we went. Our second and only other halt
was after we had reached the outskirts of Tokio. The
coolies ate snow mixed with sugar and saki, and served
in long slim goblets.
I was so delighted with my ride that I gave each of
my coolies a yen, and told them to rest all day, and be
ready to start back at five o'clock that evening. At two
o'clock, when I came in from the business calls I had
been making, the proprietor of the hotel calmly informed
me that Tom and his friend had returned to Yokohama,
and had left word for me to come by train. I was very
angry, for I had counted on that ride through the
Japanese gloaming. I spent a long, busy day ; and
when I went back at night my anger had evaporated.
Tom was at the station to meet me.
" How did you dare leave me ? " I demanded. " How
did you know that I had enough money to come home
on the train ? "
" You had plenty yen," he said ; " you gave us two."
Housekeeping is delightful in Japan, but less easy
than it is in China. Most of the Japanese servants were,
like Tom, extremely quick and capable, but liable at times
to take the domestic bit between their teeth.
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
When we left Yokohama I gave Tom three yen more
than I owed him. He abused me roundly for not
giving him more ; but he gave my boy a souvenir of
Japan, and waved his straw hat as we put off from the
pier. I long to see Japan again, to feel the soft breeze of
her myriad fans, to see the glimmering light of her in
numerable lanterns, to smell the perfumes of her blossoms
and her joss sticks, and to watch the gay, gossamer flight
of her countless butterflies.

234

CHAPTER XXVI
ORIENTAL OBSEQUIES
A Japanese Funeral
In Japan it is chiefly the middle class that has become
Europeanised. The upper nobility and the poorer peas
antry are the classes most tenacious of the old national
customs. The upper middle class is the travelled class.
The masses are too poor, the nobles are too tied by
grave responsibilities, to go far from Japan. It is the son
of some petty nobleman or well-to-do gentleman who goes
to Oxford or Harvard for his education, and returns home
a very Westernised Oriental indeed. Then, too, class
prejudice is always stronger in the very high and in the
very lowly than in the intermediate classes.
I went to a Japanese funeral in Tokio. But I do not
for a moment pretend that it was a typical funeral. Even
those who attempt to write exhaustively about Japan find
little or nothing to say about the burial customs of the
Japanese. There are a number of reasons why it is very
difficult to say anything definite. First, all Japan, like
Gaul of old, is divided into three parts : into Japan the
old, the conservative, into Japan the new and iconoclastic,
and into Japan the compromising. In this third Japan,
nothing is anything, anything is everything. European
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
habits and Japanese customs are jumbled together in the
most unhappy way. Then, as for the second reason,
if we confine our inquiries to the old conservative
Japanese — the only Japanese picturesquely interesting —
we find them so divided into sects and so subdivided into
families that what you say, truthfully enough, about
Yamamato, would be entirely false about Nozeyama.
Japanese religion is a very puzzling thing to any one
who comes of a race accustomed to take religion
seriously. Religion in Japan is a subject by itself — a
big subject. I will try to be intelligible briefly. A large
proportion of the Japanese are Buddhists, free-and-easy
Buddhists, lightly-worshipping Buddhists, but still Bud
dhists. But these Buddhists are divided into fifteen
sects. The funeral customs of each sect differ from those
of the other fourteen. There are also many of the
funeral observances determined by the rank of the dead,
still others decided by the family to which he belonged,
and, again, some dependent upon his financial placement.
I went to a Japanese funeral. It was, I repeat, typical
of some Japanese funerals only,
The day before the interment I went to the house in
which the death had occurred. The dead man had been
prominent in the upper mercantile circles. Hundreds of
Japanese men and women were passing noiselessly in and
out of the house. They had come to say good-bye to a
man they had known well and liked well ; they were all
dressed quietly. It is an insult to enter a Japanese house
of death clad in anything but the plainest, simplest
garments. We passed in with the others. I was with
a Japanese gentleman and his wife. An old man-servant
showed us into a large, handsome room. Another servant
took charge of us. Both these men were dressed in
the plainest dark -blue livery ; both had red eyes. The
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ORIENTAL OBSEQUIES
room was furnished in strict Japanese style ; it was full
of sorrowful-looking people. Several of them hastened to
extemporise a seat for me out of cushions and the broad
window-seat There were no chairs in the room, of course,
only mats. Japanese courtesy never fails, never flags ; it is
the real, the universal religion of Japan, and from it there are
no dissenters. A Japanese allows nothing to lessen the full
measure of graceful politeness which he pays you, because
he owes it to himself to do so. Absolutely nothing !
The condemned man about to perform hara-kiri,
bows with extreme civility to his witnesses and assistants.
No sorrow, no trouble, no illness, not death, not marriage,
not even birth itself, in the least way frees a Japanese
from the grave obligation of being very polite. I went
one night in Kobe to the hut of a poor Japanese woman
who had been suddenly taken very ill. When I went in,
I saw that the joy of motherhood would be hers in a very
few moments. But I was allowed to do nothing for her
until she had spoken all the prescribed words of Japanese
greeting and given me a cup of tea. No wonder that the
Japanese women are more charming than those of almost
any other race, when the poorest and lowliest of them are
so heroic in their practice of a woman's greatest charm —
courtesy !
The room in which they had so kindly contrived me
a delightful seat was the ante-chamber of the room in
which the dead man lay. Maid -servants were passing
round trays of sweetmeats, which every one refused,
pointing to the inner door and shaking their heads.
Then a white-haired old man, who was evidently not a
servant brought us an exquisitely carved ivory tray. On
it were thimble-sized silver cups holding saki. There are
two things in this world I cannot drink — whisky and saki.
They are very much alike. Saki is the Japanese whisky,
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
and is even nastier to my thinking than Occidental
whisky. The friend I was with knew my repugnance
to saki, and hastened over to me as swiftly as she might,
for Japanese etiquette forbids one to move except very
slowly in a house of mourning. " You must drink it," she
whispered, " it is a health to the dead. And his brother,
who is offering it to you, will be deeply offended if you
don't." I took the cup and rose, meaning to bow to the
ground as every one else was doing. But the old cup
bearer motioned me gently back on to my cushions. " Try
not yourself with our strange customs. My sister feels it
very kind that you are here." I had known the dead
man's wife rather well, years before, in Washington.
Every few moments a servant pushed back from the
inside the door of the next room. When he did so, a few
people passed in to the dead. Our turn came and we
went in. A large white cloth was spread upon the floor.
In the centre lay a low bier, on it, clad in his best robes,
lay the dead man. Upon his bosom, half inside the open
ing of his kimono, lay a rose. The room was sweet with
flowers. The servants stood silently near the doors, and
the whole room spoke of sad, loving care. My two friends
bent and kissed the dead face, and we passed out by a
door opposite to that through which we had entered.
We were leaving the house when word was brought
me that the widow would like to see me. I went upstairs,
and was shown into a room just over the one we had left.
It was a typical Japanese bedroom. The bereaved woman
half sat, half lay upon her sleeping mat, one elbow
resting upon her peculiar little Japanese pillow. She was
dressed in coarse hempen cloth, which is the prescribed
Japanese mourning. It would be wrong, I think, for me
to write about the five minutes I spent with her. We
were friends, and the wide racial difference between us
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ORIENTAL OBSEQUIES
would afford me a poor excuse if I utilised her grief for
a paragraph. The next day I went to the funeral service in the
temple. The body was no longer visible. It had been
encased, in a sitting posture, in a square wooden box.
Then the box had been filled with carmine to preserve
the body from decay. This is expensive. When it cannot
be afforded, carmine is put in the ears, nose, and mouth
of the corpse as a partial preventative of decomposition.
In a room of the temple had been placed the white
stone tablet, upon which was inscribed the new name by
which the dead would enter paradise. After death, every
conservative Japanese, who was a Buddhist, receives a
new name ; it is called okurina, or accompanying name.
Into this room passed the incense burners. Each was
provided with a paper packet of incense, which he
burned before the tablet Behind the tablet sat the
priests of the temple. The temple itself was a gay,
joyous looking place, which seemed strangely out of
keeping with the grave, subdued manner of the company.
Demeanour is everything at a Japanese funeral ; but were
it not so, it would be impossible for a people of such
exquisite good taste to behave lightly on such an occasion.
The cemetery to which we went was also bright and
gay. It was built upon a gently-sloping hillside, and was
literally a paradise of sweet-smelling flowers. The graves
were at some distance from each other, and, without
exception, most carefully tended. Over many of them
were built carved marble roofing, peaked in shape. From
some of these roofs hung one of the tiny chimes of bells
of which the Japanese are so fond, and which they
invariably have in their temples or prayer-houses. The
coffin was placed in a grave that was half-full of honey
suckle and roses. More flowers were thrown above the
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
coffin, or rather coffins, for the inner box had been put
in several others. Again incense was burned, until the
air grew very peculiar with the mingling of the fresh
perfumes of the growing flowers and the heavy odour of
the preserved spices. Then we left the dead in the
least depressing cemetery I have ever seen. A tuneful
brook ran through that burial ground, and in it were
several squat pagodas or prayer-houses — miniature
temples. Everything was clean, quiet, and in order,
except the flowering vines — they ran mad riot everywhere.
Cremation used to be practised in Japan, but never, I
believe, very generally. Certainly it has long been
confined to the lower and poorer classes, and even they
employ it less and less every year.
The custom of burying the dead in a sitting position
is general but not universal, and is decreasing. In many
Japanese families, children are still trained explicitly in
the offices of respect they may at any time be called
upon to perform at the obsequies of a relative. One
quaint old custom still holds in Japan. Upon slips of
paper are written the names of all persons present at a
funeral. The slips are bound together, sometimes very
elegantly, and handed down from generation to generation
as heirlooms. Curiously, the writing of these lists is the
only one exception I know to the Japanese rule of writing
from the right to the left. The lists of funeral guests are
written as we write from left to right
The Japanese deal with death and the attendant
ceremonies with more dignity and simplicity than any of
the other Oriental peoples. They are not naturally
gloomy, and they never exaggerate gloom. Their burial
grounds are pretty, peaceful places, in every way fitting
resting places for the dead of a superlatively graceful,
artistic, pleasant people. 240

CHAPTER XXVII
ORIENTAL NUPTIALS
Japanese Wedlock
CONFUCIUS wrote : " The man stands in importance before
the woman ; it is the right of the strong over the weak.
Heaven ranks before earth ; the prince ranks before his
minister. This law of honour is one." The Occidental
reformers who would fain place the women of China and
Japan on an equality with the men of those countries,
must first disabuse the Chinese and the Japanese minds
of their deeply-rooted reverence for Confucius. That will
be very difficult. Confucius said so much that has held
true for thousands of years, so very much that has stood
the test of ages — he so satisfies the good and the
intellectual — that it will be a very able " foreign devil " who
convinces Chung-Fan and Uzeyama that Confucius was
not infallible. And the chief difficulty will again be with
the women. A heathen man sometimes deserts the heathen
gods, — a heathen woman does so, almost never. Upon
these especial words, then, of Confucius, and upon many
similar words of his, and upon words in literature held
almost as sacred, are based the relative positions of the
sexes in China and Japan. It is no mistake to suppose
that the men of China and Japan regard women as their
R 241

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
own inferiors. But the great mistake, — and a common and
stupid mistake it is, — the great mistake is made by those
who suppose that in China and Japan man is necessarily
unkind, or even ungentle to woman. A great many of us
hold that our children are our inferiors intellectually and
physically, and that we have a right to their obedience.
But we do not, as a matter of consequence, beat or
bully the little creatures who cluster about our knees.
If (with the one exception of the Burmans) the men
of Asia regard themselves as superior to their women,
they nevertheless, as a rule, treat those women with
extreme tenderness. There is usually something prettily
paternal in the bearing of an Oriental husband to his
wife. Another point is unnoted by the women who sip four
o'clock tea in Europe and America, and mourn over their
sisters in benighted Cathay. They forget the power of
love, and how it " raises the lowly and humbles the great."
If the fin-de-siecle women of Europe have discarded love
as a silly luxury and a useless ally, the women of Asia
have not. It is their mainstay. And when we wring
our emancipated hands over the deplorable condition of
the women of Asia we forget that the woman who is
loved is all-powerful.
The women of Japan are, I think, supreme in their
own homes. They exercise, as a rule, little or no influence
on public affairs, but I fancy that their own indifference is
the chief cause of this. The Japanese women are not
generally industrious nor keenly intellectual. They are
as dainty, as beautiful, as fine, as the ivory carvings of
Kioto ; they are as exquisite, as lovely in tint, as the em
broideries of Tokio. Yet they have few or none of the
qualities of statesmen, but they are to the men of Japan what
Japan is to the world, — they are models of beauty, exemplifi-
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ORIENTAL NUPTIALS
cations of grace, flowers of courtesy, acmes of hospitality ;
they are sweet refuges of rest, something to be looked
upon with delight and to be loved.
Japan is often an open book to the foreigner who can
read its quaint, graceful characters. The moment you put
your foot on Japanese soil you are the guest of all Japan ;
every Japanese feels himself your host — in duty bound to
welcome you and to humour you. Hence it ought to be
the easiest thing to learn about their national customs and
their home-life. And so it would be, if both were for long
the same. The Japanese are as variable as their own
rainbow-crepes. They are as illusive as the colours of the
prism. To say, " This is done in Japan, this is thought in
Japan, this is felt in Japan, this is liked in Japan," is as
impossible as to sharply separate the reds from the pinks,
the whites from the creams, on the petals of a blush rose.
And also, there are times when Japan is a very closed book
to Europeans — times when the national cry is, " Japan for
the Japanese." At such times it is difficult to penetrate
into the heart of Japan, and impossible to learn anything
of Japanese home-life.
There are a few families in Japan who cling rigidly to
the customs of old Japan, and they are far more inter
esting in their marriage-observances than the subscribers
to Japan the new. Japanese marriages spring from con
venience or inclination. But this is so true of almost all
countries that it can scarcely be recorded as vitally charac
teristic of Japan. The terms of the marriage are arranged
through a common friend who is called a " middle man."
When the marriage is finally agreed upon, and the terms
settled, a present is sent from the bridegroom, by the
" middle man," to the bride. This is called the " compli
mentary present." If it is accepted, the family of the bride
are in honour bound not to retract their consent. Then
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
follows a deluge of presents. Everybody gives everybody
gifts in bewildering varieties and quantities. The bride's
presents, sent by the bridegroom, include seven varieties
of condiments, and seven barrels of wine. These, I believe,
she often bestows upon her parents. For herself she
retains the major part of the presents, which consist of
silk, of gold embroideries, and robes. There is always gold
embroidery for a girdle, and a piece of white silk stuff,
which must be woven with a lozenge pattern, a white silk
robe, and other pieces of white silk stuff. The manner in
which these silks are folded is of importance, as is also
the way in which they are carried. The bridegroom
sends his prospective father-in-law a sword and scabbard
and a list of all the presents. He sends to his future
mother-in-law a silk robe and wine and condiments. To
the bridegroom is sent, from the bride's father, a present
equal in value to those sent by the bridegroom to the
bride's parents. But the bride does not reciprocate
the bridegroom's gifts. On the marriage night two silk
robes are sent to the bride from the bridegroom, and
neither these nor the one sent before, may, under any
circumstances, be folded.
The long ceremonies of the marriage night begin with
the passing of the bride from her girl-home to her wife-
home. Before the door of each house is placed a strip of
matting. Before the bride's door is placed the bridal
litter. She comes ! She stands in her father's doorway, for
the last time, as a child. The blue wistarias hang in thick,
hopeful clusters above her elaborately-coiffured head. A
warm, sweet perfume steals from the rose garden and
mingles with the perfume of her warm, sweet lips. The
faint, clean smell of cherry and of apple blossoms comes
with the gentle breeze that stirs the long white veil which
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ORIENTAL NUPTIALS
the bride wears with the incomparable grace of a Japanese
woman. In the West there is a last faint glow of sunset.
The maiden's face is warm with a gentle, well-controlled
flush. From behind the rose garden and the honeysuckle
vines steals the new moonlight. In the girl's eyes shines
a great, pure glory. The bride's mother gives a little sob.
The girl's dimpled face quivers for an instant, then she
steps into her litter. The bearers lift it up, and she is off
to her new home and her new life. Ring every golden
bell ! Bloom every scented blossom of Japan's great wild-
flower luxuriance ! The bride is coming ! She is robed
in white. On her outer robe of silk is woven the bridal
lozenge. Behind her walk the bearers of many gifts. That
is a person of much importance, he who carries so import
antly the picturesque bamboo and lacquer bucket. Do
you know what is in it ? Clams ! They are to make the
bridal broth ; and in all Massachusetts there are none who
can convert clams into pottage so delicious as can the
cooks of Japan. Behind the clams come the presents which
the bride will offer to her husband. They are carried care
fully, on a tray of rare old lacquer. Among those presents
are seven pocket-books, a sword of fine workmanship, a
fan, two girdles, two silken robes sewn together, and a
dress of ceremony, — a dress with wings of hempen cloth.
Dresses of ceremony are very important items in the
wardrobe of every Chinese or Japanese noble. It would
be greatly interesting, had one the time, to investigate
the why and wherefore, the significance, of the prescribed
garments worn, upon important occasions, by the Chinese
and Japanese. In passing, I may say that there is no
part of a Japanese dress of ceremony more important than
the big sleeves of hempen cloth. They are worn by the
dignitary who performs hara-kiri, and they must, by all
means, be taken to the bridegroom by his bride.
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
Before the bridegroom's door burn the big "garden
torches." The " garden torches " are two fires lit, one on
either side of the bridegroom's portal. Beside each fire
sit a man and woman pounding rice. Between the fires
lies a length of matting, on which the bride's litter is
deposited. When the bride passes, the rice from the left
is mingled with the rice at the right. This is called the
" blending of the rice-meal," and is analogous to a detail
of the old Latin marriage customs. As the bride passes
in, the wicks of two candles are united. This represents
the union of souls and of bodies. The two wicks are
allowed to burn together for a few moments and are then
extinguished. This symbolises, I believe, the hope that
the bride and bridegroom may live and die together.
The marriage celebration is ceremonial, and there is a
characteristic feast, but, in it, there is no religious element.
Japanese religion is very unobtrusive. There is no priest
at the hara-kiri ceremonial ; there is no priest at the
marriage ceremony. The feast is very Japanese ; it is
peculiar (from our point of view), but it is delicate and
artistic. A great many cups of wine are drunk ; but
each cup is ridiculously small, and holds but a pigmy
thimbleful. The wine is brought in in kettles, to which
are fastened paper butterflies, each a work of art almost
as beautiful as the butterflies of Nature. In the menu
are condiments, soups — of fishes' fins and of clams, and
of carp. Rice is there of course, but prepared and served
with Japanese originality and daintiness. After the feast,
both bride and bridegroom change their outer garments —
he for the dress of ceremony brought by her — she for the
dress given by him. Then the bride goes to the apart
ments of her parents-in-law. She takes with her presents
for her husband's parents, and there is more drinking of wine
drops, and dropping of quaint, pretty, Japanese curtseys. If
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ORIENTAL NUPTIALS
the bridegroom's parents are dead he leads the bride to
the tablets on which are inscribed those parents' names,
and there she makes obeisance, often and deep.
The bridal apartments are arranged with great nicety
by the female friends of the husband and wife. Japanese
married life always has the great advantage of beginning
amid pleasant surroundings.
Very many years ago every Japanese bride blackened
her teeth and shaved her eyebrows, but these practices are
now confined to the lower classes. The Japanese people
are too finely artistic to perpetuate any custom that
disfigures their persons. The Japanese wives of to-day
are beauties in all ways enhanced, in no ways disfigured.
And in their pretty, flower-scented homes they sit among
big carved vases and tinkling music, and when the
silken lanterns are lit, the soft, coloured light drifts on
to the prettiest, daintiest, most winsome women in the
world. The Japanese women are lovable, and all their lives
they are loved. For what more can woman wish ? They
lead no armies ; they preside over no legislatures, but
they reign and rule at home. They are kissed tenderly
and admired exceedingly.
I have tried to describe an old Japanese marriage.
Most of the details are still retained, I believe, in the
marriages of the most orthodox people. But orthodoxy
is on the wane the wide world over. Even in China (its
stronghold), it has shrunk, if ever so little. In Japan —
where manner is more than matter, where seriousness
is never very deep — in Japan orthodoxy itself is a
chameleon-like, shifting, uncertain thing. And even the
phantom of orthodoxy holds but limited sway in Japan
the fift de siecle.
The marriage ceremony among Westernised, modern-
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
ised Japanese would differ in many details from the
wedding 1 have described. It would be less Japanesque,
less elaborate, and, I had almost written, less picturesque ;
but nothing can lack in picturesqueness — nothing in
which Japanese women play the principal parts.

248

HINDOO CODl. IE WOMEN WITH LOADS OE l:\MIIOO. /'age 249.

CHAPTER XXVIII
BAMBOO
The Orient is wreathed with bamboo. A considerable
proportion of the houses in the East are built of bamboo.
And at one season of the year many thousands of natives
are fed on bamboo.
There is nothing else that I should find so impossible
to wipe from my memoried picture of the East as bamboo.
It is the one characteristic common to all the East.
Indigo, rice, opium, tea, coffee, cochineal, gems, spices —
they all mean the East, but no one of them means the
entire East Bamboo is symbolic of all the East. It lifts
its graceful, feathery head among the cocoanut trees and
cinnamon groves of Ceylon. It touches with rare beauty
every few yards of the Chinese landscape. It breaks up
into lovely bits the fields of India. It grows at the base
of the Himalayas. It softens again the soft, fair face of
Japan. It thrives in Singapore, it runs riot in Penang.
And wonderfully deft are the natives in their use of the
bamboo. The Chinamen excel in its manipulation. I
have come home, after a sojourn in the East of some
years, with an idea that the Chinamen excel in almost
everything mechanical in which they have an entirely
fair chance. There are few things that a Chinaman
cannot make out of bamboo ; houses, boxes, and baskets,
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
furniture, palanquins, 'rickshaws, hats, shields, carriages,
scaffolding, fences, mats, portieres, — those. are a few of the
simplest uses to which Chin-Yang puts bamboo.
There is nothing else in the vegetable kingdom at
once so pliable and so strong as bamboo. The fingers of
Chinese children weave it ; the hands of Indian women
pluck it. Yet from it is made scaffolding, upon which
stand a multitude of Chinese workmen.
Once, in Hong-Kong, I saw the Chinese prepare for
their Soul Festival. The Soul Festival is a unique ex
pression of the artistic yearnings of this peculiar people.
It occurs once in every four years. A temporary house
is built of bamboo, it is lined with shelves of bamboo ;
on those shelves are placed pictures, vases, flowers — in
brief, anything and everything that marks Chinese pro
gress in the fine arts. The Soul Festival is the Chinese
World's Fair — but a World's Fair from which all the world
is rigorously excluded except China. There was a great
deal about the Soul Festival I saw that was incompre
hensible to me ; and a Chinese mystery is apt to remain
a Chinese mystery to the most inquiring European. One
thing, however, was clear to me at the Soul Festival.
That one thing was the preponderance of bamboo. Not
only was bamboo an important ingredient in the building,
and of half the semi-useful articles displayed, but it was
in evidence on the majority of the pottery, and in many of
the pictures. It was the saving grace of the most hideous
carvings. It gave the utmost touch of beauty to the finest
ivories. Bamboo is as light as it is strong. That makes it
invaluable for receptacles that must be carried. I used
often to stop in the streets of Shanghai to buy Chinese
sweetmeats from a chow-chow seller, who had a port
able booth or cabinet. I wondered at the ease with
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BAMBOO
which he carried it, until one day I lifted it myself. It
was inexpressibly light, — it was made of bamboo. The
minor Chinese bridges are made of bamboo ; very quaint
and effective they are.
The Foundlings Home at Shanghai was the prettiest
sight (humanly speaking) I saw in China. It was a
Roman Catholic Institution. The Sisters were Chinese.
They wore the full, dark-blue trousers and the light-blue
smock, the hideous head-dress, and the green, jade ear
rings of the ordinary amah ; but each wore upon her
bosom a large cross. The poor little Chinese waifs lay
asleep in queer, tall, bamboo cradles. Some of the elder
children sat in sturdy little bamboo chairs, and the
celestial romps of the institution capered beneath the
shade of the bamboo trees.
I went to a court of Chinese justice. The judges sat
upon bamboo chairs, about a bamboo table. The doors
of a Chinese prison are barred with bamboo lattice work.
The shields of the Chinese soldiers are made of bamboo.
Of bamboo are made the flutes of the Chinese musicians.
The Chinese poulterer carries across his shoulder' a
straight bamboo rod, and on it are hung his feathery
wares. The captive song birds of China chirp their sad
music behind the bars of bamboo cages. The Chinese
woman who toddles from her window to see your strange,
pale, European face leans over a bamboo balcony. I
had some boxes made in Singapore (Singapore is full of
Chinese) and in Hong-Kong. I used to spend hours
watching their manufacture from the almost green
bamboo. The Chinese are unrivalled in thoroughness
and in exactness. I drew a plan of a rather intricate
box for a Chinaman in Singapore. I got a tape measure
and showed him the dimensions I wished. We bar
gained, as to price, on our fingers. The day on which
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
it should be completed was determined in the same way.
On the day agreed upon, John arrived with my box.
He had padded and lined with silk, as I had shown him,
the compartment for my wigs ; he had lined the little
place for " make-up " with tin ; my armour fitted into its
place to a nicety. In brief, he had done everything
exactly as I had indicated. Not from one of my many
instructions had he deviated by a hair's-breadth ; and yet
I had only shown them on a piece of paper. I had told
him nothing. We were equally ignorant each of the
other's language. I paid him the exact sum agreed
upon, and he said, " Chin-chin," and went away very con
tentedly. That is characteristic of the Chinese : the
quality of fidelity to a bargain. In that they differ from
the Japanese. If a Chinaman agrees to make you a pair
of boots for three yen, and to deliver them on Monday,
why then, as sure as Monday comes, come the boots,
made as they were ordered. The bootmaker takes his
three yen, and says, " Thank you." Make an identical
arrangement with a Japanese. On Monday you never
see him. On Tuesday he calls to say that he will bring
the boots on Wednesday. On Thursday he actually
brings them. He is very polite, far more polite than the
Chinese cobbler. He demands four yen, because the
boots have taken twice the leather he thought they
would. Nine to one they are not just what you ordered ;
but there will be about them that indefinable something
that will stamp them works of art ; and the boots the
Chinaman made you, though just as you ordered, will be,
at the utmost, masterpieces of mechanical workmanship.
In Bengal I have seen women carrying bundles of
bamboo three times their own height and quite their
own circumference. They cut it, the women of the
coolie class, and carry it for miles on their heads.
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BAMBOO
They have a little pad of rags between their skulls and
their tremendous burdens. They bring the bamboo to
the nearest village and sell it to some bamboo shop.
The Mohurrum is the thriving time for one branch
of the bamboo trade, for at the celebration of the
Mohurrum festivals, thousands of tazias are carried
about the streets before they are thrown, as sacrifices to
the native gods, into the Ganges or its nearest substitute.
The tazias are marvellous concoctions of paper and tinsel,
more or less typical of Indian religious history or myth.
They are carried upon carts or upon the shoulders of
religious enthusiasts. Almost all the Indians, for that
matter, are religious enthusiasts. But whether the tazias
are carried on carts, or by men, they rest upon bamboo
scaffoldings ; and most of them are built upon bamboo
framework. The Mohurrum is one of the two great
Mohammedan festivals ; it is often provocative of riot
and bloodshed, and it is at such times, when native
fanaticism rides its high hobby-horse, that European
interests are most endangered.
Bamboo is a delightful vegetable. Only the young,
tender shoots can be eaten, but they are very palatable.
They are dressed with a cream sauce, such as Americans
serve with asparagus points. The natives use them in
an insipid broth. They are a toothsome accompaniment
to any game curry. They are often used in all the
nicest curries. I claim to have invented bamboo salad,
and I assure you it is very nice. You boil the young,
tender tips, but not too thoroughly. Then put them in
the ice-chest. When they are thoroughly cold, serve them
with a French dressing or with a rich mayonnaise. You
can serve them with or without lettuce, cucumber, etc.,
but serve a little celery with them, if possible ; and,
whether you use the French dressing or the mayonnaise,
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
season it with cayenne until it is quite piquant. The
bamboo tips are also very nice served as a confiture with
preserved ginger and candied mangoes. I was looking,
the other day, over the price-list of an Eastern condiment
house here in London ; but no Eastern delicatesse was
there. The fruits, the queer combinations, that give the
Eastern flavour to your food and make every mouthful
more delicious and pungent than the last, they are not to
be had here ; but it is a happiness to remember them.
It is the picturesque aspect of the growing bamboo
that I would emphasise. Except in Japan, almost
all the beauties of the East are positive — aggressive in
colour and in line. Bamboo is soft of hue, graceful,
indefinite of outline. It softens and modifies many a
mile of Indian scenery which without it would be crude.
I remember, with genuine gratitude, one glorious clump of
bamboo in Jubbulpore. It was so delicate in tint and
shape that it toned to tender half-colours the rough dyes
of the garments of the natives who clustered about it. I
always made a point of including it in my afternoon drive ;
and many a starlit night I have walked some considerable
distance to see it outlined, like wonderful gray-green lace,
against the opalescent sky, from which the sunset had not
quite gone.

254

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:«titik.

FAN PALM AT SINGAPORE.

Page 255.

CHAPTER XXIX
ON THE HIMALAYAS
From Tokio we turned back. Again we stayed in
Yokohoma, in Kobe, and stopped just long enough to
play once in Nagasaki. We spent some time at Hong-
Kong. At Penang our boat waited a day, and our
English friends came aboard to wish us God -speed.
The man we had known best and liked most was not
among them. I had named him " Saint of the Camera."
He was a capital amateur photographer, and had tramped
about Penang most generously for me when we had been
there before, and had fed with innumerable pretty photo
graphs my insatiable craving for " views." I asked where
he was. Alas ! he was in the English Hospital, fighting
a desperate fight with the fever-fiend.
" I wish that you were as rich as Monte Christo," I had
said to my husband the first evening that we were in Penang.
" Why ? " he said, as in duty bound.
" Because then you could buy me this island, and we
would stay here for ever."
" Oh, would we ? Well, then, I'm glad that I'm con
siderably less well off than Monte Christo," said mine lord,
who decidedly prefers Europe to Asia.
Penang is said by some authorities to be the site of
the Garden of Eden. Certainly no paradise could be
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
lovelier. Nature laughs and revels in Penang; and
there, too, is native life most varied, most picturesque.
A dozen different races live in Penang. Their places
of worship, their houses, their garments, are insistently
differentiated. Penang is one big garden of exotics;
among them we found one sweet home -rose — the rose
of English hospitality. From Penang we went to
Singapore. I have no pleasanter memories than my memories of
Singapore. No place could be more beautiful, nor more
interesting ; and I thought that nowhere in the East was
there such pleasant European society. And surely no
other spot on earth is such a paradise of fruit.
Singapore is a place of splendid varieties. It is the
island of a great future.
The Malays are perhaps the least vivid feature of
Singapore. They are an inoffensive people, but not, I
thought, as interesting as the other Oriental peoples.
Chinese industry and European intelligence were the
great motive powers at Singapore.
Tanglin, outside the town of Singapore, is an ideal
barrack. It was a soldier's paradise I thought
Singapore, with its wonderful mixture of races, was
strangely fascinating, even to people who had been through
the East rather exhaustively ; but I doubt if we should
remember Singapore half so pleasantly, did we not re
member it as the residence of Sir Charles Warren.
If I felt free to glide into purely personal reminis
cences, I should record of Singapore that there we greatly
liked a man, and greatly thanked a host.
On our way to China we had spent a month or more
in Singapore. Now we passed a few more pleasant weeks
there. Then came a few sad days in Rangoon and a
memorable passage back to Calcutta. It was late in July
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ON THE HIMALAYAS
and the elements were in indescribable confusion. Only
an expert could tell which was sky and which was sea.
And neither sea nor sky could have been uglier.
We lost a great number of sheep overboard in
the storm ; and I, too, very nearly went overboard. I
should have deserved my fate ; but the poor innocent
sheep did not deserve theirs. Yet perhaps it is pleasanter
to die by drowning than by slaughter. I love the deck
of a boat, but I hate the " down below." I never go below
more than is absolutely necessary. But on this trip I
had my own way once too often. I don't know how I
had inveigled the Captain, but I had. My steamer
chair was lashed to the hatch. I was snug and dry
under my rugs. The ship rolled and pitched splendidly,
the rain rushed down in nasty torrents, and the salt
spray curled and split into a hundred whipcords, before
it struck my face.
The Captain and my captain came up every few
moments to reason with me and to invite me down, but
I shook my wilful head at them. The night, the storm,
and the fresh, angry air, seemed to me far more pleasant
than the close, warm, sociable saloon would have been.
About ten o'clock John came up and made, with
difficulty, his frightened way to my side.
" Master say you want something ? Please he like
come bring you down. It is very late."
" All right, I'll come down with you, John," I said.
" Oh no, memsahib, please not," cried John, " Master
be very angry. It want two gentlemen help you this bad
night." Some imp of contrariness possessed me. I was cross
at having to go down at all ; and I answered John roughly.
" Bring the rugs," I said, " and I'll come by myself, if you
are afraid to help me. Poor John, he was afraid to help
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
himself ; and, in sooth, we had a very staggery time of it
between the steamer chair and the gangway. But we
grasped the brass rod at last and went slowly, and, as I
thought, surely down. How often we are most in danger
when we think that danger is over ! I was on the last
step when a lurch more tremendous than all the tre
mendous others tore the brass rod from my hand, and I
lay across the saloon doorway, a rather mangled mass of
wilful woman.
I had interrupted a game of whist. I was rather
badly hurt, but they were all very good to me ; even the
Captain and the long-suffering husband, both of whom I
had defied by staying on deck, through the storm, and
both of whom I had disobeyed by coming below without
their help.
There was a young army surgeon on board ; I forget
his name, but I shall always remember him. He had
been invalided home from Mandalay. He was seriously
ill ; but he left his state-room and came to mine. I shall
never forget how very ill he looked as he bent over my
rather badly cut eye. I am sure that he was far worse
than I was, but he saved me from the full consequences
of my folly ; and he looked so very white and spent that
I forgot to moan, and let my fancy wander to a score of
battlefields where unselfish medicos have won their
Victoria Crosses ; and before my mind had quite come
back my eye was mended.
Our second season in Calcutta was delightful, but
warm. " Cinch, cinch," was our constant cry ; which
meant that we wanted the punkah-wallahs to pull harder.
Punkahs are the puissant antidotes of the Indian
climate. They are not always needed, nor everywhere ;
but when they are needed, they are needed badly ! There
are two kinds of punkahs — hand punkahs, and the long
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ON THE HIMALAYAS
canvas punkahs that hang from the ceiling and are pulled
by the coolies, who sit in the hall or in an outer room.
The hand punkahs are huge fans, made of palm leaves,
and swung near your face, by the tireless arms of
indefatigable punkah-wallahs.
Some of the hand punkahs are very beautiful. In
Calcutta, at the theatre, I was kept cool by the breath of
a big Egyptian-shaped thing that was inlaid with bits of
brilliantly-hued glass. In Rawal Pindi I was cooled by
the breeze of a square of scented grass. In Patiala the
servants of the Maharajah fanned me with wire-outlined,
leaf-fringed, sandalwood-sprinkled ovals of crimson silk.
In every part of India I bought, for a few pies, in the
native bazaars, the common fan's of the people. I don't
suppose that my entire collection cost me ten pounds.
But to me they are full of interest and of story, those
crude fans of the Asiatic populace. That plaited, vivid
one means Allahabad to me. That little, useless-looking,
spangled one I bought almost at the base of Mount
Everest. There was small need for fans there ; but fans
are a matter of course in Asia, and custom is greater than
necessity. For every Oriental city or town in which I
have slept I have a fan.
The genii of this world are limited in number. I
knew one of them in Calcutta ; he was an old, poor
Hindoo. He had his price (as most of us have) ; and
it was two annas from sunrise to sunrise. I gave him
three annas, and only claimed his services from 8 P.M. till
12 P.M. I think he loved me. He could only do one
thing, but he did it perfectly. Our second season in
Calcutta was, beyond expression, hot. It was indecently
hot But, whatever the rest of the world suffered, from
8 P.M. until midnight I was cool and happy. To write
more correctly, I was cooled and kept happy. The
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
one thing that my meagrely- clad brown genius could
do, was fan ; and he did it. From the moment I
stepped from the gharri into the stage doorway of the
Theatre Royal, Calcutta, I was surrounded by the per
fection of breeze.
There were moments incidental to my changes of
costume when I had to temporarily banish him from my
dressing-room. He always resented this ; he seemed to
feel it a reflection upon his fanning. To tell the truth, I
often felt rather supercilious ; for, though he never ceased
to fan me, he was more often asleep than awake. I
usually had to waken him before I ejected him.
We played The Lights o' London in terrible weather.
My third dress was a warm gray gown, and over it I wore
a warmer gray cloak and hood. I don't know how the
old man managed it, but he did manage always to crawl
behind the canvas rocks ; and while I sat, a melting mass
of cross feminality, he fanned and fanned me. When I
moved, he moved ; wherever I stood, he stood behind
me ; and whether the audience appreciated or underrated
my genius, he never ceased to fan me. A friend, a dear
friend, was kind enough to tell me that in Bombay I
played Bess Marks very much worse than I had in
Calcutta. I attributed it entirely to the absence of
my punkah-wallah. I have never had a more devoted servant. When he
could not by any possible contrivance fan me, he used to
go and fan my husband. I wonder if he had read a book
entitled, Love me, Love my Husband.
When we went into the Punjab, the punkahs — the big
punkahs swung from the ceiling — that had been a luxury
became a necessity. Not a necessity to comfort, but to
life. But before we went into the Punjab we went up on
the Himalayas. 260

ON THE HIMALAYAS
My lines of life have crossed and recrossed the globe,
up and down. I shall always think of the Himalayas as
Nature's masterpiece. I shall not try to describe them :
my failure would be too great.
We crept to the Himalayas from Calcutta — crept
through pleasant, native places, across the Ganges, up the
most wonderful of railways. It seems profane to speak
of man's achievement and of the Himalayas at the same
time ; but the difficulties that Nature has thrown in the
way of the Darjeeling railway make its accomplishment
a thing sublime. Engineering may have had greater
triumphs, but it has had none that are more greatly
displayed. Our train turned upon itself and crossed its own
tracks like a mad, hunted thing. It seemed to take most
desperate chances ; but still it went on and up ; and
man's mind triumphed over Nature's matter.
Alas that three score years and ten should mark the
average limit of so stupendous a triumph ! And yet if,
as some of us think, man's mind is but a form of
Nature's matter, it is only meet that our active, nervous
personalities should be reabsorbed into the great, quiet,
placid, potent whole of Nature.
The colour-rich pen of William Shakespeare would,
I think, have found itself inadequate to paint the scenery
through which we passed from the banks of the Ganges
to the base of Mount Everest. All I can say of that
scenery is : It is there ; go and see it !
We passed groups of hill people. They were to us
a new type of Asiatic humanity. They reminded us
strangely and strongly of our own North American
Indians. They set us thinking. We tried to recall
all we had ever read about the cradle of the Aryan
race. We tried to remember the great racial divisions
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
of humanity. And when we found ourselves in a fine
mental tangle we gave it up, saying, " What a great and
undeniable fact is the brotherhood of all humanity ! " and
then we ceased to think and only looked — at Nature.
We passed through tea plantations, and through miles
of cochineal and indigo ; that relieved our tension and
told us once more that ours was the most practical race
in the world ; for the plantations were, almost without
exception, owned and managed by Anglo-Saxons.
Before we reached Darjeeling we had several sunlit
views of the far, snow -covered heights of the great
mountains. From Darjeeling we saw them every day —
for at Darjeeling we had only sunshine and good fortune.
We saw Mount Kinchinjunga at sunrise, at sunflood, and
at sunset. We could not see Mount Everest from
Darjeeling, but before daylight one morning we went
together on horseback and crept to the base of Mount
Everest ; we lifted our faces reverently and looked
upon it.
Darjeeling fascinated me as much because of the hill
tribes we found there as for its own wonderful beauty.
My husband says that I ruined him in furs and phulkaris,
but he has accused me of ruining him in every bazaar in
the Orient ; and now that we are at home in London, he
has quite constituted himself the curator of my curios.
At Darjeeling is one of the lovely homes of those
very interesting people, the Maharajah and Maharanee
of Cooch Behar.
The Maharajah of Cooch Behar was the handsomest
man I ever saw. But I did not discover it the first time
I saw him. The Maharanee was with him, and I had no
eyes for any one else. The Maharanee of Cooch Behar is
indescribably lovely. No intense poem of old Oriental
literature contains a description of woman's loveliness,
262

OX THE HIMALAYAS
that would be an exaggeration if it had been written
about her Highness. In Calcutta and in Darjeeling she
and her husband came to see us play very often. When
ever they came, I used to scurry through my changes
that I might stand at the peep-hole and look upon the
exquisite Eastern beauty of the Maharanee. The
Maharajah I first saw, without his wife, at the Calcutta
Races ; then I realised what a handsome husband his
handsome wife had. Naturally enough, the Cooch Behar
children are exceptionally pretty. It was in Darjeeling
that I used to see them. The Maharajah of Cooch
Behar and his wife stand for all that is best and wisest
in Indian life. Their culture is broadly cosmopolitan,
their loyalty to their own people is deep and tireless, but
not pedantic nor narrow. They adore and adorn the
country of their birth. They greatly credit the country
of their allegiance.
We went from Darjeeling back to Calcutta. Then
we went to Bombay, stopping a week or more at
Allahabad and Jubblepore. I revelled again in the
native quarters ; we were made very happy at night in
the theatres, and in the cantonments we met a lot of
charming English people. I often wonder how many
thousands of charming English people there are in
India. There are very many, I know.
Bombay I always associate with Tokio and Vienna.
They are the three most lavish cities I have ever seen.
And yet, Bombay lacked to me something of the charm
of Calcutta. Bombay is undoubtedly the more beautiful
of the two cities, but it is far the less dense. Humanity
fascinates me more than Nature. I boast of being cosmo
politan. I love several countries as much as, or more
than, my own, and yet, the cosmopolitanism of Bombay
oppressed me. The cosmos seemed to me objectionably
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
conglomerate. But Bombay was delightful ; its short
comings were very few, its charms were very, very
many. Must I leave Bombay — the Queen of the
Eastern seas — with a sentence ? Perhaps as well leave
it that way as another, since I cannot devote the pages
of a volume to its praise. The swarming, native quarters,
the beautifully -built European section, the pretty Parsi
women, the changeable silks and the inch-thick rugs of
the borri wallahs, the bright -blue, glistening, dancing
bay, the dank recesses of the Elephanta caves, the
vultures on the Parsi Towers of Silence, call out to me
for recognition. But there is a nineteenth century full to
overflowing of tourists to recall them all, better, perhaps,
than I could, but not more lovingly than I should —
had I the space and the power to more than mention
them. If I filled one page with each golden memory I have
of the Orient, those pages would, though they were
printed on tissue, make a vastly heavy volume.

264

T- _. -Trr- ,-
A \
¦ iiif^St A

CHAPTER XXX

MY AYAH

A THORXLESS, black blossom grew upon the hills that
stretch between Poona and Bombay. When I was domiciled
in a bungalow on those hills, I had the good luck to gather
that black blossom into the garland of my personal retinue.
By birth she was a Hindoo, a high-caste Hindoo ; by
profession and necessity she was an ayah. I never knew
a sweeter-natured woman. Unlike most of her people, she
had learned very little from the Europeans. Her mental
horizon had scarcely widened through her contact with us.
She hadn't a big mind, but she had a huge heart ; I never
met so impersonal a member of my own sex. All she
thought or wished for herself was to bathe at sunrise, and,
when she was very hungry, to eat a little. The only dissipa
tion she ever craved was to sit some moments in the sun.
The only necessity of her nature was to love something.
I broke down at the end of a hard, hot season in
Bombay. My husband said that it was an attack of fever,
caught from spending too much time in the native city. I
feared that it was an attack of conscience, brought on by
spending too much money in the native bazaars. But I
never told him so ; I never can bring myself to contradict
my husband. At all events, I broke down very thoroughly,
and was peremptorily forbidden the trip to Calcutta, which
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my husband and our company were about to take. To
remain in Bombay was out of the question. We found a
Hindoo gentleman who had a bungalow at Khandalah,
a bungalow he wished to let. Khandalah is a railway
station mid-way between Poona and Bombay. There is a
sanitarium, not far from there, for sick soldiers. Save for
their occasional presence, when convalescent, the place is
destitute of Europeans. We went to look at the bungalow.
I must not stop to describe the wonderful journey up to
the top of the high hills, or I shall never reach Khandalah.
I must not stop to tell you of Khandalah (a clump cf many
native huts and a few native bungalows, sprinkled like
eccentric fungi on the aromatic hillsides), or I shall never
reach the bungalow. I must not stop to tell you of the
bungalow, with all its glory of fruit and flowers, and all its
wealth of dilapidation, or I shall never reach my ayah. To
be brief, I fell in love with Khandalah and with Mr. Bhai-
shankar's bungalow. You would have done the same if
you had been there. We rented the bungalow. In three
days we took possession. The order of our procession
when we left Bombay was :
i. My husband and I.
2. Our two children.
3. Our European nurse and housekeeper.
4. My little daughter's ayah.
5. John, my husband's Madrassi boy.
6. Mettu, my Mohammedan boy.
7. Abdul, my little son's chokera.
8. A mistree.
9. A dhursi, who brought his wife, their five children
and his sister (I think the sister was another
wife, called a sister out of deference to my
narrow views of matrimony).

10. Three dogs.

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MY AYAH
1 1. Twelve boxes (chiefly filled with provisions, for I had
stored most of my chests of raiment at Bombay).
The next day my husband had to leave us. He had
an appointment to again unfurl the Shakespearian banner
over the black hole of Calcutta.
Three days after, the ayah we had grew homesick,
said she was dying and wanted to die in Bombay. I
sent her back. I grew very ill and another ayah was a
necessity. We took one of the only two who applied. I
studied her for weeks, — I studied a good many things that
hot weather. I read a quantity of English literature that
ought to lift me into conversational pre-eminence for years.
I had abundant leisure. For over four months I saw only
five European faces — my two children, the European woman
who has been for years our faithful servant and friend, a
doctor (from Lanauli, the nearest European settlement),
and the nurse who came to help him fight my illness.
Ayah (I have had many ayahs, but only one is en
throned in my memory) — Ayah was very stupid, I thought,
when she first came. She knew very little English and
she didn't learn a dozen new words all the time she was
with me. But she had the gift of divination. If you
were half kind to her she knew all your wants instinctively,
and she had the grace of giving joyful service.
I have been served more or less — usually less — all
over the world, and I believe that there are only two per
fect servant-races left : the Southern darkies of the United
states and the natives of India. The Japanese servants
are deft, but they never love you. And there is no per
fection in service in which there is no affection. If you
speak a kind, familiar word to a Japanese servant he
regards you with frigid contempt. Do it to any other
servant in the world and he presumes upon it — unless he
is a native of India or an American darkie. Those
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two understand it, rejoice in it, and become your staunch
friends, but no whit the less your humble servants. Even
here, in England, the race of servants is dying out ; they
have ceased to respect themselves and their work.
Consequently they are ill at ease and make you so.
I never knew Ayah's history nor learned to pronounce
her name, — though I used often to see her family and knew
all their circumstances. Her most vivid characteristic was
an intense terror of all British soldiers. But she was with
me a long time before I found it out. We were playing
in Mhow ; I had taken Ayah to the regimental theatre, as
I had no other maid with mc. My husband's boy called
her from my dressing-room when I was changing. She
came back with the first frown I ever saw on her dear, old,
black face. To my utter amazement she spoke sulkily.
" Our sahib is drinking with the Colonel sahib," she said
bitterly, " and the Colonel sahib saj- will memsahib have
some coffee burruf, or some wine burruf ? " She was openly
disappointed with me when I did not decline both. She
went out without a word, and came back with the mess-
corporal. When she had taken the tray from him she
closed the door with rude abruptness.
" What is the matter, Ayah? " I asked. (1 knew that
she never did anything without a reason.)
She turned to me quickly and I saw that there were
tears in her eyes. Homer says that Athene was cow-eyed.
My ayah's beautiful eyes, too, were bovine.
"Oh, memsahib, I so sorry our sahib drink with a
lal coatie sahib! I so cross you let Colonel sahib send
my memsahib some thing."
" Why, Ayah ? "
"Our sahib is good ; my memsahib is good. All lal
coatie sahib is bad."
The next night, as we drove to the theatre, Ayah carried
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MY AYAH
four cubic feet of something wrapped in a bit of blanket.
My husband noticed it, and asked her —
" In the name of all the native wonders, what have you
got there, Ayah ? "
" Me got burruf and beer and chickeny for my
memsahib. My memsahib not want drink or eat from
Colonel lal coatie ! "
Poor Ayah ! the longer she stayed with me the more
I grieved her, for I never went into an Indian cantonment
without learning to like the redcoat soldiers more and
more. But she never ceased to strive for my reformation.
It was in Allahabad that an officer in the South Wales
Borderers foolishly persisted in becoming very chummy
with my small son. The result was that one day, while
we were drinking tea, our four-year-old contrived to cut a
slit, about two inches long, in the military trousers. Our
hotel was a long way from our friend's quarters and he
looked very miserable. I called to Ayah for needle and
thread. There was a gleam of triumph on her black face
when she saw why they were needed. But, when I moved
to repair the damage my baby had done, she snatched the
thimble from my finger almost roughly.
" Don't touch, memsahib," she whispered hoarsely, and
then, speaking with the downcast eyes of Oriental humility,
" Ayah will serve the sahib."
And so she took from me what she thought a
degradation. But she did the mending very badly, and
my children's clothes could have told how really well she
could sew.
Ayah was generosity incarnated, and in my moments
of hospitality was always my proud assistant. But if any
soldier friend broke bread with us, she had a horrid habit
of keeping tally of all he ate and drank. In Muttra, a
friend of my husband's, a captain in the 7th Dragoons,
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knowing that we must be almost starving at the Dak
Bungalow, drove up, after our first performance, and sent
in to know if he might bring in some supper. I said,
" He might indeed." The supper was in three baskets,
the first filled with cold jellied meats and dainty supper
sundries ; the second held beer, and in the third and
largest basket there was more " Perier Jouet " than we used
in our week's stay. Captain  shared with us the supper
his kind thoughtfulness had provided. When I said
good-night and left the men free to smoke till daylight,
Ayah rose from her post of vantage on the verandah and
followed me into my room. When she had done all I needed,
and I told her to put out the light and go, she paused to
mutter —
" The Captain sahib drink two bottle beer, and eat
three piece sanwish."
That so amused me that I told my husband in the
morning. It vexed him, and he took Ayah to task.
" Your memsahib would have had no supper if
Captain  had not put himself out to bring it," he said.
" He is a mean sahib," was the answer ; " he bring my
memsahib wine, and then he drink it. And too he smoke
plenty cigarette when memsahib go. I smell him."
I never could find out that Ayah had any cause for
her dislike of the military. The disproportion between
European men and women in India has not been without
unpleasant results, but I am convinced that none of those
results had ever touched Ayah. I believe that her feeling
was the result of a fierce, protoplasmic hatred that was
engermed in the nature of her ancestors, before the Mutiny.
But nothing ever softened it. The history of my life in
India is the history of kindness heaped upon me by soldier
hands. Ayah never let that kindness move her. In
Campbellpore the Colonel's bungalow was given up to us.
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MY AYAH
We were fed from the officers' mess, the Elephants (the
Elephant Battery was at Campbellpore) saluted us, and the
regimental drag rushed us up and down the one sandy
street. Ayah took it grimly. All over India, after we had
reduced our company of twenty-seven to four, the officers,
and often officers' wives, played with us, enabling us to
play Caste, Oiir Boys, etc., to good business, and to
tarry in the pleasant cantonments. And the men — they
used to make my dressing-rooms so cozy, and wait upon
me hand and foot. I could fill a volume with grateful
memories of the regiments in India. Ayah never wavered
in her hate, and yet she was so grateful to any civilian
who gave me a rose or my baby a rattle. Only one
soldier ever won her liking or approval. When we went
from Calcutta to Rangoon there was on board a tall,
stern man with a fine face and the bearing of a chief.
He was ceaselessly good to our babies, and Ayah always
spoke to me of him as the " big, good sahib." When we
reached Singapore, this gentleman came one night to my
husband's dressing-room door, to offer us the first of many
kind hospitalities. He was dressed in uniform, but Ayah,
whom I had sent to reclaim my cold cream, knew him. She
rushed back to me —
" Memsahib, memsahib, Warren sahib is a lal coatie."
" Yes," I said, " Sir Charles Warren is the Commander-
in-Chief here. The burra lal coatie sahib, Ayah."
She almost wept. But her intuitive recognition of a
great and noble man triumphed over her prejudice. A
month later, when we were leaving Singapore, I heard her
tell John, the Madrassi —
" In England the Rajah make some sahibs be lal coaties.
English Rajah make Warren sahib be lal coatie. Warren
sahib very sorry. Warren sahib very good sahib."
I meant to tell his Excellency, when I saw him next, but
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I forgot to do so. That's a pity, for he would have had
such a splendid laugh.
Ayah was not a great respecter of rank per se. The
presence of a Rajah threw our other native servants
into great excitement. Ayah took it very calmly.
She broke her caste repeatedly. She ate whatever
I gave her to eat. She literally feasted on bread I
had broken. My dhursi would have died first. But
the Hindoo loathing of pork never left Ayah. When
we went to Khandalah we took too much bacon. The
population was entirely native and we couldn't give it
away. Finally, I told Ayah to put it in a basket and
take it down to one of the gullies, and throw it away.
She flatly refused to touch it, directly or indirectly. It
was the only time she ever demurred at any order of
mine. When we were travelling she lay or sat at my feet.
On the seat she would not sit, unless to hold one of the
children. We always gave her what was left from our
lunch when we ate in the train. Nothing would induce
her to eat one crumb until we had entirely finished. As
my children ate most of the time, she often suffered a
long self-inflicted fast.
Her favourite drink was the liquor of tinned asparagus.
She learned to make a French salad dressing, as I like it.
I have never been able to teach a white servant that !
She would fan me for unbroken hours. How often I
have fallen asleep under the wonderful soothing of her
touch ! She would make the fortune of a Turkish bath.
Her love for children and animals never failed. There
was a really passionate attachment between her and my
monkey, " Ned." I think that both their hearts answered
to the throb of some distant kinship.
She grew to be very deft in my dressing-room. Her
2 72

A TIIORNLESS BLACK BLOSSOM.

Page 273.

MY AYAH
wonderful anticipation of my slightest wish made her
invaluable in the excitement of a " first night." She
never spoke in the theatre unnecessarily. I used often to
let her stand in the wings and watch the play. She
liked that, but she always looked on with an expression
of disapproval until I came on to the stage. Then she
appeared delighted. No matter how badly I did my
work, no matter what the audience thought, Ayah thought
me splendid and ignored the other actors. . I have often
thought what a dramatic critic she would make.
We sent her to the circus in Bombay. She had
never seen anything of the kind before. She was so
moved by fright and delight that she lost her way and
was brought home to the hotel, very late, by two police
men. She was ill with terror, and for weeks didn't get
over her shame, which I fear was added to by my
husband's teasing.
I took her to see the Taj Mahal, when we were in Agra,
— a monument of human love and accomplishment of
human art so supreme that I would scarcely dare to write
about it I showed Ayah all over it, and she said, " It's a
big bungalow ! "
She was genuinely and deeply grateful. She was
strictly honest. She took the greatest pleasure in all my
baby's pretty clothes. I hoped never to part with her.
Her children were married, and she would have gone any
where with me. But her poor old mother, to whom she
was devoted, was ill, and I was obliged to say, " Go to
her, Ayah, if you think you ought." My husband took
her from Karachi to Bombay in August of 1892, and I
never saw her again.
A friend, who was our guest in Karachi, and who had
come from Multan to spend with us our last days in India,
went with me to see them off. He was very angry because
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I took my ayah in my arms and kissed her when we
parted. Dear soldier boy ! I liked him immensely, but
I loved my ayah better than any living thing I left in
India. I had proved her worth, and I knew it She
loved me and I loved her. We had stood together beside
a baby's cradle and fought a long fight with the Angel of
Death. I shall never forget her ; and I never remember her
without feeling in my heart what Rudyard Kipling had the
genius to say —
By the living God that made you,
You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din !

2/4

CHAPTER XXXI
SAMBO
He had but one shirt and it was very ragged. He washed
it every few nights after dark. He was too young for a
coolie, and too old for a chokera. When I was cross with
him I called him " coolie," and he hung his head. When
I was pleased with him I called him " chokera," and he
looked up and smiled. We never could pronounce his
name. It is not the custom in India to call your native
servants by name, but we quarrelled with the custom.
Failing to gain the mastery over his proper appellation,
my children called him " Sambo " — perhaps partly because
that was something like his name, and partly because they
had some inherited memory of darkie servants on their
great-great-grandfather's plantation.
I paid him three annas a day. His duties were
various. He did errands with a fair degree of precision,
but never with celerity. He fed the pets and the chickens.
He helped the other servants a very little. He played
with and waited on the children. In that he excelled.
We were keeping house on the hills. We were within
a stone's throw of a railway station ; but we were miles
from the nearest European. At first there were four of
us ; my two children and I, and their nurse, who was also
my housekeeper and rock of defence. We needed an
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additional servant to do indefinite scraps of work. The
Hindoo stationmaster recommended Sambo, and Sambo
was engaged.
He had less knowledge of English than any one else
I ever met who attempted to speak it. When he was
frightened he forgot the little English he did know. And
he almost always was frightened — at least, when he first
came to us. He developed and improved amazingly under
kindness, as almost all natives do.
When he had been with us a few days, he ran to me
crying bitterly that the " chota sahib " had struck him. My
small boy and he had been playing horse, and my son
had been either so careless or so naughty as to strike
Sambo too hard. I made the child give Sambo an anna
of his pocket-money, for indemnity. Sambo was delighted.
A few days after, I caught him trying to induce his young
master to repeat the blow for which he had, on a former
occasion, been so handsomely recompensed. I informed
them both that when the next blow was struck I should
" cut " Sambo's pay and my youngster's pocket-money,
one half-anna each, and present the anna to the mallie's
children. I hope that my little one never again struck
Sambo ; if he did, Sambo never told on him.
I was giving Sambo a severe scolding one afternoon
about his appearance. One shoulder was out of his shirt,
one arm was half bare, and the skirt of his shirt hung
about his bare brown legs like a coarse fringe. In India
one grows accustomed to the nude, as one does in the
Pitti Palace or in the Vatican itself. But one likes to
draw the line somewhere with one's personal attendants.
I had often spoken to Sambo about his rapidly-diminish
ing garment, and thought his disregard of what I had said
impertinent. So now I spoke very sharply, and he slunk
away. The dhursies, who were sitting on one end of the
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SAMBO
verandah, looked after him and laughed. They were both
sleek and fat and amply clad. My ayah was at the other
end of the verandah building brick houses for my baby.
She rose quietly and came to me. " Memsahib," she said
softly, but with the confidence of a conscious favourite, " no
scold Sambo, no be angry. He got one shirt — no more.
Not Sambo fault. He so poor. His grandmother so old
— so poor. Sambo no father — no mother." Then she
went back to her " missie baba." When my ayah told me
anything I knew that it was true. It is not " correct " in
India to let your conscience prick you about anything in
connection with the natives. But I have never been cor
rect, and I hope I never shall be. I looked from the
dhursies, who were making my boy a dozen new white
suits, to the other end of the verandah. We were on the
hills, living quite out of the world, but my baby's little
white frock had pale-blue shoulder-knots. She had whole
blue socks on her little pink feet. And the dainty frock
itself was the second she had worn that day. I went
inside. Sambo was sitting on the ground, outside the
nursery door, trying to mend his tatters. He had
borrowed a needle and thread from my housekeeper. I
called her to me, and we put our heads together. We
found some Roman shirts and togas in one of our boxes.
They had originally been worn by gentlemen of artistic
temperament, residing in Melbourne, who had impersonated
Roman senators for the nominal honorarium of two shillings
a night. The shirts and togas were made of unbleached
calico, and were bordered with red, or blue, or yellow.
They were all too large for Sambo. Our Victorian
" captain of the supers " had been particular as to height,
and Sambo was only fourteen. I made the dhursies put
away their work and alter the six best shirts for Sambo.
I meant it kindly, but I almost killed him. The night
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
they were finished, he lay awake until morning, crying for
joy, crying himself almost into a fever. I gave him the
togas to match the shirts and he was very proud. I gave
him two huge tartans that had done duty in Rob Roy.
The natives came for miles to see the memsahib who had
given her chokera " six shirt, six sari, and two shawl."
Dear old Ayah was as delighted as Sambo, though she
had children of her own to whom I had usually given all
our discarded garments.
Sambo was slowly emerging from a frightened, almost
useless encumbrance, into a cheerful, moderately useful
servant, when he met with a shocking misfortune. It com
pletely unnerved him, and threatened to set him back three
months in his development. We were living at Khandalah.
Most of our provisions came from Bombay. We sent,
however, to Lanaulie — a distance of four miles — for soda,
lemonade, butter, and anything of which we ran short.
Sometimes we took Lanaulie in in our afternoon drive.
Sometimes we sent Sambo. He would take an empty
box three feet by two by three on his head, and march off
cheerfully enough, returning a few hours later with the
things I wanted. We always gave him a list and the
money. One Saturday we discovered as late as three
o'clock that we were out of sugar, butter, tea, and some other
articles which were, to our pampered European palates,
necessities. " We must send Sambo on the train," I said,
" else he'll be too late." The little general store at which
we dealt closed at six. Because the boy was to go
luxuriously on the train, I made out rather a long order.
I gave him six annas and a ten-rupee note, saying, " Tie
the ten rupees up tight, and buy your ticket out of the six
annas." Sambo went, — but he failed to return. I had told
him he might come back by train. Travelling in India is
not expensive. When it is done third-class it is decidedly
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SAMBO
cheap. We were living on the line between Poona and
Bombay, and the trains were frequent. He should have
been back at five. At six we wondered. At seven we
were a little anxious. At eight I had my dinner, minus
sugar, butter, and a few other incidentals. Ayah sat on
the floor sewing buttons on to the children's clothes ; her
face was drawn and stern. Just when dinner was over,
Sambo rushed in. " Memsahib ! Memsahib ! " he cried,
and fell at my feet. He had thrown his box down at the
door. It was empty. My bearer and the khitmatgar
dragged him to his feet. His big thick lips were quite
white, and they were trembling piteously. Every vein on
his body showed white and rigid against his black skin.
It was a long time before we could get him to speak a
word. When at last he did speak, it was in Hindustani.
Ayah translated, and with unconcealed anger, though she
scarcely lifted her eyes from her work. "He say man no
give tings memsahib want. He no have money. He lose
ten rupee. He say he pray memsahib not beat hard."
Ayah evidently repeated the last sentence reluctantly.
" Tell him that European women do not strike
servants," I said grandly.
The unwonted occurrence had drawn all the servants
to the door. At my remark they burst into concerted
laughter. It is not Anglo-Indian etiquette for a servant
to laugh at a memsahib ; yet my servants, who were
fairly well bred, laughed now ; even my own " boy," who
was usually a model of propriety. The cook, a dignified
old Goanese, who took many liberties because he knew
he was the best chef between Poona and Bombay, took
a step forward. " Memsahib," said the old fellow, " vera
much memsahib, European beat plenty — plenty hard." —
" Then tell him that I don't," I said rather shortly, and
went out To do myself justice I was very angry. It
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
was too late to send anywhere for what I required. More
over, that ten-rupee note had been my last one ; and my
next letter from my husband in Calcutta was not due
until Tuesday. And in Khandalah there were neither
banks nor pawnshops.
Sambo came to me at five every morning, and went
home at eight or nine at night. That night Ayah said to
me, " Sambo not come back morning morrow. He thief.
He too frightened." I had a long talk with the European
woman who has for years shared all my ups and downs,
nursing my babies, keeping my accounts, mending my
gowns, and doing me a hundred other loving services.
We didn't know what to think. The ten rupees were
gone, and at an inconvenient moment. But we were in
doubt whether Sambo had lost or stolen them.
When I woke in the morning Sambo was stealing
about the house doing his work with trembling hands.
His big, soft eyes were very red. When I saw that
he had come back I was sure that he was innocent of
any worse fault than carelessness. My housekeeper went
to the stationmaster, from whom Sambo had bought his
ticket, and to the storekeeper in Lanaulie. Neither
could give any conclusive testimony. He had bought his
ticket out of the six-anna piece. He had handed in
my order at the little store ; it was then that he had dis
covered, or seemed to discover, his loss. He had cried
and seemed very terrified. He had spent hours hunting
for the note. I thought it greatly to his credit that he
had come back to me ; he could so easily have disappeared.
But he had been careless, and I more than half suspected
him of having shown the note on the train, in a moment of
boyish braggadocio. I told him that night that I should
cut his pay an anna a day until he had paid back the ten
rupees. He seemed to think my decision a kind one.
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SAMBO
The next morning he came to the bungalow a little late,
and he had an ugly scar upon his back. I ascertained
with some difficulty that the scar was his grandmother's
autograph. It was the only one she knew how to write,
and she had inscribed it upon her grandson's back with a
stick, because he had brought home two annas instead of
three. I sent the bearer for a gharri. When it came I
took Ayah with me, and went in search of the grandmother.
We passed through the native bazaar, and found her in
a miserable little native hut. It was a chill, cool day.
She lay half asleep upon the mud floor of her " home."
She was as ragged and far filthier than Sambo had been
when I first saw him. The skin hung in thick wrinkles,
half clinging to, half falling from, her bent bones. Her
dark-red gums were toothless. In one palsied hand she
grasped a stout stick. On her narrow forehead, beneath
her scant gray hair, a circle of white paper and a daub of
red paint denoted I know not what length of performed
prayer and caste altitude. A brightly-burnished chattee
stood in one corner. The woman and the chattee were
all the room contained ; and it was the only room in
the house. I had come with big wrath in my heart. It
was gone. Her poverty, her misery, had scarred Sambo's
back — not she. " Why does she sleep ? " I asked Ayah.
" Because she has no rice to eat," was the answer. We
went back to the bazaar. I bought fifteen pounds of rice
for a rupee, and a big bag of gram for three annas, a
bottle of milk for one anna, a packet of curry ingredients
for two annas, six eggs, a few plantains, a loaf of bread,
some firewood, a box of matches, a few simple cooking
utensils, a bar of soap, a pair of cheap blankets, and a
chicken. A chicken sounds rather lavish, but it only cost
two annas. I have bought them in India for less. When
we went back, Ayah lit a fire, and then we woke the old
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woman. She ate ravenously, though she seemed scarcely
to have strength to eat at all. And I wondered
what moment of distress had given her the sudden power
to deal her grandson so cruel a blow. She had, however,
the strength to thank me abundantly. I left a few small
coins with her ; bade Ayah tell her that if she never beat
Sambo again she should be helped, and drove home
through the soft, sweet twilight. Please don't think that
I am a philanthropist. I am not. I am a woman, and,
like most women, very selfish. But I had tinned asparagus
and a glass of very good claret for my dinner that night ;
and I should have lost half the flavour of the one and the
bouquet of the latter had I not known that one old bag
of Hindoo bones was no longer cold and famished. After
dinner, out amid my little paradise of Indian flowers, I
enjoyed the perfumed Indian night and the cup of coffee
that Sambo brought me far more because I had arranged
that, while he was in my service, his back should not again
ache so cruelly. I gained among the simple natives the
reputation of great generosity. And any European who
fails to buy that reputation at the cost of a few wisely-
spent rupees foregoes one of the greatest charms of an
Indian sojourn.
A few days before Christmas my husband came home
from Calcutta. The day of his arrival I saw Ayah and
Sambo consulting together anxiously. I asked Ayah
what the matter was. I thought her answer very naive
and droll : " We say is your sahib nice sahib ? Will us
like your sahib ? " — " I hope so," I said cheerfully. Ayah
shook her head sadly and replied, " Me like no sahib." I
noticed, however, that all the other servants and even the
mallie's family, who lived in a hut near by, seemed greatly
elated. It appears that they thought it far more of a
social distinction to be the servants of a sahib than to be
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SAMBO
those of a memsahib. But Ayah did not like men, and
poor Sambo had had so uncomfortable a life that he
dreaded any new development.
My husband came at twilight. He was followed by
six or seven coolies ; for he had brought every one in my
little establishment something. Sambo was very amazed.
He had never dreamed of such a home-coming. After
dinner all hands were called in to help to undo the parcels.
Sambo sat on the floor, a useless heap of round-eyed boy.
For my four -year -old son there was a big, ventilated
wooden house. When it was opened a pair of beautiful
little monkeys were disclosed. Sambo uttered a quick
little cry of joy, and said something in excited Hindustani.
Ayah was always my interpreter, perhaps because, after
Sambo, she knew less English than any servant I had.
She translated now : " Sambo say he feed monkeys, he
wash monkeys, he be very good to monkeys." And he
kept his word. He was a most devoted valet to our
mischievous pets. A few days ago, the monkey, whom I
still have, seemed a little ill. I sent for the monkey-
keeper at the Zoo. He remarked upon the beautiful
condition of " Ned's " coat and skin. " It's had fine care
when it was little, mum ; " and he was quite right. Sambo
had given it the best care.
A great big doll was in the next parcel. It had a
fine satin frock, and could open and close its eyes in a
most seductive way. Ayah's heart warmed to the sahib
at the sight, and she gathered baby and doll into one
delighted embrace. When she realised that the sahib
had brought her a silver bangle, she crept over and kissed
my dress. My husband made Ayah many a little gift
after that. She would always say, " Salaam, sahib," and
then seize upon and kiss some part of my raiment. I
used to tease her by telling her that she ought to kiss
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her master's coat sleeve instead of mine ; but though she
grew really fond of him, she was always horrified at my
suggestion. When Sambo saw the fine red and gold turban that
had been brought to him from Calcutta, he wiped his
eyes. When the last parcel was undone, the newly-
arrived master made the servants stand in a line against
the wall. There were fourteen of them ; they were all
smilingly anticipant of something pleasant ; all except
Sambo — he was horribly frightened. Each servant was
asked in a stern tone if he or she had been good and
served the memsahib well. They all said they had,
except poor Sambo. He was one of those people who,
Mr. Middlewick tells us, always " wept when they was spoke
to harsh." Then into each expectant hand was put a
rupee. Sambo had never had an entire rupee before.
I think it dawned upon him, as he stood looking at it,
that his new sahib was a jolly, fun-loving fellow, and the
kindest master in the world.
It was our fourth consecutive Christmas far from
home ; but we kept high holiday. That is an easy,
inexpensive thing to do in India. There was a rocking-
horse — such a rocking-horse ! and a splendid doll's house.
There was a little gift for each servant, and a small coin,
which they liked even better. After breakfast I called
Sambo to me, and gave him ten rupees. I expected
him to cry, but he did not. He looked up with bright
smiling eyes and said, " Sambo love memsahib. Sambo
be good. Memsahib jao, Sambo die."
We had a grand dinner, and every servant who would
take it had all they could eat and a bottle of beer.
Only two refused to break their caste. The dhursie
and the mallie were true to their faith. The next day
they were the only two natives on the place who seemed
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SAMBO
quite well. The obvious moral is, that strict religious
observance is accepted of the gods.
I have yet some of the little gifts that our servants
gave me and the children that Christmas. Each of them
spent very little, but not one of them could afford that
little. I have never spent a Christmas in the East,
no, nor a birthday, without receiving many tokens of my
native servants' good-will.
Sambo had strictly Eastern ideas of the relative
positions of man and woman. One day, in the midst of
a great romp with the children, my husband broke a cup
belonging to a rare set of old china that had been given
me in Tokio. I shook him. Sambo, who was in the
room, covered his face with his hands and fled, crying,
" The sahib will kill the memsahib ! " I think he was
relieved when he found that I was permitted to live yet
a little longer. But I fear that he never again felt for
his master entire respect. He said to my nurse, " Hindoo
woman shake Hindoo man, Hindoo man kill Hindoo
woman. Little European woman shake big European
man, he laugh. Crab ! Crab ! " As for me, I had dis
graced myself in his eyes for ever ; I should have felt
honoured and delighted to have my best china broken
at the dear hand of my lord and master.
In India no " up-to-date " European feeds his servants.
You give them from two annas to eleven annas a day ;
and you know that two annas a day is a fortune to a
native. You know it, because every European that has
lived in India longer than you tells you so. When we
lived on the hills we kept chickens. A chicken is a
luxury in England. In India it is a drug ; but a drug we
swallow, because meat is so bad and so scarce. Sambo
had a genius for chickens — I mean an intense sympathy
with chickens. It's the same thing. He always fed our
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
chickens ; we looked on and admired. The garden
about the bungalow looked empty, but when Sambo
stepped on to the verandah with a dish of scraps, and
cried, "Ah ! Ah I Ah /" the garden swarmed with feathered
denizens. One day I threw a crust to a chicken. We
had been lunching, as we often did, on the verandah.
When I had gone to my own room I looked out, and
thought I saw Sambo pick up and eat the crust the fowl
had disdained. That gave me a painful thought. I
went to the larder — oh yes, we had one even there —
and gathered on to a plate bits of meat and hunks of et
ceteras. I called Sambo and told him to take the plate
of food to the dogs and monkeys. I watched him, and
saw him steal a piece of stale bread from the dish. I
called Ayah and questioned her. She said, " Sambo very
hungry, memsahib. He no eat two days but little I
give him. His grandmother very sick. Send no food." —
" But," I said, " he has three annas a day." — " Yes, but
two go to man they debt. One feed grandmother."
They had borrowed, as almost all Indians do, from a
usurer more pitiless than those who, through the columns
of the London dailies, proffer pecuniary accommodation
to younger sons and M.P.'s. Sambo, though well-
incomed, from the Anglo-Indian point of view, was
almost starving. The poor old woman, of whom I had
thought as being very comfortable, also was very hungry.
After that I fed Sambo, which I shall always feel was
very good of me. He ate so unlimitedly ! He ate a
loaf of bread as we eat an apple, and found it an
appetiser. He romped with my children like another
child, but watched over them like another mother.
I noticed one morning that he was trembling. I
found that he and the mistree had been sleeping in the
open without a film of cover. I had thought that I had
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SAMBO
been very good to all my servants ; and two of them had
been shivering with the cold ! I gave them two miser
able blankets, and permission to sleep in the henhouse.
They thought me kind, and repaid me a hundredfold, as
I have always found that " natives " will.
It is the custom in India to abuse your Indian
servants. The dear black faces of American darkies
clustered about my cradle. Perhaps, for that reason, I
found myself very much en rapport with my native
servants in India. I liked them, and I thought I under
stood them. They seemed to like and understand me.
Let me crown Sambo ! I found out, through the
most peculiarly revealed chain of circumstances, that he
had lost, not stolen, the ten-rupee note ; and it made me
devoutly thankful that I had not been too hard upon the
black innocent, nor soiled my nice European lips by call
ing him a thief.

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CHAPTER XXXII
HOW WE KEPT HOUSE ON THE HILLS
We lived for six months absolutely among the natives.
Half of that time my husband was not with us at all, but
in Calcutta. The latter half he was at home occasionally,
but only occasionally, for he was working in Bombay.
Nothing ordinary could have been more complete
than our isolation from Europeans. For months we saw
no white faces but our own. It was not a thrilling
experience, because we were in no danger, we suffered
no inconvenience, and we could telegraph to Bombay at
any moment. But it was an interesting experience and
a pleasant one. It was an experience that taught one
the value of books and the value of one's self — if one had
any. It gave one calm and repose — calm and repose
one could never afterwards quite lose. For up there on
the Indian hills one learned how infinite Nature was, how
irrevocable time and fate were, and how finite self was !
The hills about Khandalah were more beautiful than
grand. The jungles were inexhaustible mazes of sweet
ness and beauty. Our own bungalow was a delightful
place. But it was not Nature that most satisfied land
entertained me. It was the people. The brown people —
the common people of Ind.
A woman — a woman whose mind and whose person-
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HOW WE KEPT HOUSE ON THE HILLS
ality were on a larger scale than mine — wrote to me
from America, "What a privilege to be alone with the
mountains ! " I held it more a privilege to be alone with
the natives, to study them, and to learn them, as I hope
I did a little.
My stay in Khandalah increased wonderfully my
already large respect for the natives. My servants be
haved beautifully. Each little duty was as exactly per
formed as if we had been living en regale in Calcutta or
Bombay. Every petty little Eastern ceremony was
punctiliously performed.
Every meal was as formally served and as carefully
prepared as if we had been in Calcutta, and a dozen people
coming to dinner. Each morning my favourite flowers
were freshly gathered into the vases. None of my likes
and dislikes were ever forgotten by my faithful brown
friends. Ayah I loved best of all. I used to abuse the
dhursies, and fly into a weekly fury with the dhobie. She
was a wretch ! The cook and I had sundry squabbles,
but I adored his dishes, and that made him adore me.
Methu, my own boy, was a perfect servant, save for a
habit he had of stealing beverage, and the mallie was a
perfect mother to me.
I believe that I was once or twice unkind to the
dhute wallah, but he was always unkind to me ; so I
forgive myself.
Sambo crept slowly into my good graces ; and I wish
I had them, one and all, here in London. I hope they
are all hale and hearty in their pretty hillside huts, and
I send them my salaams.
We had incredibly little furniture in our bungalow,
but we had a wealth of pretty, filmy draperies. We had
precious things from China and Japan, — had them in
cabinets well above the children's heads. And our
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
garden was an Oriental paradise — a perfumed dream of
plenty and of matchless loveliness. I used to lie for
hours in a hammock, watching the stars, listening to the
jackals, smelling the fresh ottar of the rose trees, dream
ing my woman's dreams and perhaps companioning
myself with a cigarette, or perhaps my pet monkeys
lay asleep in my arms. Sometimes my hammock swung
low with the added weight of my bairns ; but not often
at night. They used to fall asleep with the sun ; for
from sunrise till sunset they chased and rolled through
the scented tangles of our wonderful garden. They were
always entirely safe, though great green snakes and
jackals were common, and panthers and tigers not over
rare. Our great dog never left them, — nor did Ayah nor
Sambo. All those three were faithful unto death, and
Nizam, the dog, was decidedly clever.
I learned to read in Khandalah. I spent a great deal
of my childhood in my father's library. I grew up among
books, the spoiled child, the companion of a booky man.
But it was in Khandalah — alone on the Indian hills, at
the edge of the Indian jungle, that I learned how great is
the privilege of reading — that I learned to reverence books
and to handle them with devout fingers. I had many
books with me. Some were old friends ; some had been
selected for me by the best read man and the most
comprehensively minded I ever knew. But in Khandalah
I learned even a greater joy than the joy of reading. I
learned the joy of living : I learned what a privilege it is
to live. Yes, I who have always loved life, I across whose
life an everlasting shadow had fallen — the shadow of a
little grave — learned in my hill solitude what a good thing
it was to be alive. I should not have liked it for ever ;
but for six months it was ideal. " Could you have
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HOW WE KEPT HOUSE ON THE HILLS
endured it alone ? " a friend has asked me. Ah ! I don't
know. I had my babies, and their nurse who is my dear
friend, and sometimes I had my husband. I fear that I
could endure but little alone. I am not self-reliant. A
few nights ago I read in a London paper, "There is
nothing on earth so lonely as a lonely woman." I think
that I have never read anything truer. I would rather
be a confirmed invalid — yes, and a bedridden one — than a
lone woman. But if I were a lone woman (which, to be
frank, I can't for a moment imagine myself) I would
rather face my loneliness alone, in just such an Indian
bungalow — alone, but for native servants and books and
flowers and pet animals. I was not alone in Khandalah ;
but society in every ordinary sense I had none. Yet I
was never once lonely. And when I ought to have gone
to Bombay, I sent my nurse, and curled myself up in my
hammock. It is a privilege to be alone with Nature. Yes, and it
is also a privilege, a great privilege, sometimes to be alone
with one's self.
Yes, it was a charming existence — ours at Khandalah.
We were as free, as untrammelled by artificialities, as out
of the world, as if we had been gipsies living in a tent.
And yet we were as comfortable, our little menage was as
well ordered, as if we had been domiciled in the best of
hotels. Our omelets were always perfect ; our gravies
were never insipid ; our piece de resistance was always
done to a turn ; our entrees were always pretty, as well
as toothsome ; and our table was invariably a thing of
beauty. If I raised my voice and said, "Boy," some one answered,
" Memsahib," and in a moment stood before me ready to
obey. That was the acme of civilisation, was it not ?
And yet all day I might lie on the grass if I liked, and
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
burrow in the sweet-scented ferns, and romp and roll with
my babies and our dog and our monkeys, forgetting that
I was a matron and ought to behave.
Oh, those days and those nights ! We had no social
obligations, no duties save to satisfy our own natures and
to love and cuddle and cherish two babies. No care, save
the care of trying to forget sorrow. No pain, but the sweet
pain, the pain sweeter than joy — the pain of remembering.
It was a selfish life — the life I led there. Sometimes
my conscience, which is usually the least troublesome
friend I have, pricked me ; then I tumbled out of my
hammock and trudged off, on charity intent, to the little
bazaar. In Khandalah, you can be a great philanthropist
for half-a-crown. That is one of the chief joys of living in Asia. You
can be so very good at such a small cost.
We left our Khandalah bungalow even more suddenly
than we had gone into it I lost my temper because the
landlord sent a servant from Bombay to strip one of the
lemon trees, and omitted to say, " By your leave." I believe
that the landlord was legally right ; but the garden-wealth
of flower and fruit had been one of the great inducements
to us when we took the place, and the landlord broke his
moral if not his legal bond when he helped himself to his
own lemons. At the time I was as nearly an invalid as
so aggressive a woman can be, and I had an invalid's
selfish liking for those lemons. We had the only lemon
trees in fruit for miles. Limes are the common tart fruit
in that part of the world. But limes are one of the very
few things tropical that I have never learned to love. I
detest them ; and I heartily grudged my landlord his
lemons. Our month was almost " up." " We'll move,"
I said. " Where to ? " asked my housekeeper.
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HOW WE KEPT HOUSE ON THE HILLS
" Anywhere," I said. " But we'll move to-morrow."
And move we did. She, not I, accomplished it. I
shall never know how she did it. At daylight she left in
a gharri. At noon she returned triumphant. She had
rented a bungalow at Lanaulie.
We packed in three hours ; at least, every one but I
packed. Packing is a useful occupation, and I never, by
any chance, do anything useful. It was a wonderful day.
My lucky husband was in Bombay. Three big bullock
carts were loaded with our goods and chattels. When
the last blanket load of et ceteras had been more or less
securely fastened on to the cart, when our last chicken
had been caught and placed a crowing crown upon the
apex of the highest load, we started amid the wailings of
the mallie and the metrani, who were the only servants
who were not to accompany us. The mallie belonged
body and soul to the landlord, and the metrani was not
a favourite of mine. I led the procession. I was in a
rather inelegant barouche, and my four-year-old son
accompanied me. " Wadie " and baby and Ayah brought
up the rear in another and more inelegant barouche.
They were guarding the luggage — -or thought they were.
The men servants walked beside the bullock carts and
were supposed also to protect my belongings.
Our new domicile was about three miles from our old.
We arrived at our destination about six. The others
arrived about eight. My son and I spent the interim in
gazing upon our new domain, in being fairly decent to
the extremely civil Goanese house-agent, and in getting
preposterously hungry.
At eight o'clock the train drew near the bungalow gate.
Ned and Cissy, my pet monkeys, were screaming wrath-
fully, my baby was asleep, and my aforesaid goods and
chattels looked very dilapidated and shaken. We extem-
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
porised a bed for baby, and found a loaf of bread for the
monkeys. The coolies hurled my ignominious parcels
ignominiously to the ground ; and the patient oxen stood
placidly in the flood of swiftly come moonlight, which
magnified and silvered their big, white beauty.
Our new abode was far more elegant — far less pictur
esque — than our old. Our new garden was a young,
methodical thing. Our bungalow was systematically
divided into proportional rooms, and over every door
were panoramas of coloured glass. They were sectioned
into monotonous squares, but the cruel reds, the crude
greens, the impossible purples, and the magnificent yellows,
would have told us that we were in Asia, had we not
already known it.
It was nearly ten o'clock when the last cart had been
unloaded and driven away. Then we discovered that we
had almost nothing to eat. The hampers that had been
hastily filled from our Khandalah larder had disappeared.
It was too late to send to the bazaar. Fortunately one
of the gharries was still waiting, as the gharri wallah
had had a slight difference of opinion re remuneration.
When I found that we stood upon the verge of midnight
and famine, I yielded to the charioteer, on condition that
he should drive, and drive quickly, with the house-agent,
who had volunteered to see what he could gather together
for us in the way of food. He came back in about three-
quarters of an hour with several loaves of bread, two
dozen eggs, and seven or eight seers of rice. In the
meantime, the mistree had borrowed "curry stuff" from
the mallie, and had killed a chicken. We had put the
babies to bed, after giving them a huge supper of bread
and milk and bananas. It was almost midnight when
they called me to dinner. " I'm almost starved, Wadie," I
said, " and so thirsty. I hope they have cooled the beer."
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HOW WE KEPT HOUSE ON THE HILLS
Alas, they had not — for the very good reason that there
was no beer to cool ! It had been stolen with the baskets
of food. I had to drink water with my curry, and
water does not go well with curry. I was very angry that
night, and vowed European vengeance upon the coolies
who had stolen all our fresh vegetables, a cask of oysters,
a pigeon pie, a dozen other viands, and, worse than all, my
beer. But in the morning, when we found that they had
taken nothing but food and drink, I forgave them. To
confess the whole depth of my moral obliquity, I have
never been able to regard the stealing of food as wrong.
Good people have often told me that my moral sense is
diseased. Perhaps it is, for I am far more apt to regard
the man who goes hungry a fool, than to regard the man
who steals bread a thief. So I laughed in the morning,
and wired to my husband, who was in Bombay, " Have
moved to Lanaulie. All food has been stolen. Send
everything on next train."
The night of our arrival, when we had finished our
midnight dinner, I told the servants that they could have
all the food in that house. They ate until daylight — caste
or no caste. Sambo told me the next morning — told me
with tears in his eyes — that he had never before had three
eggs at once. I remember how much rice and how many
plantains they ate, for it was really phenomenal. But I
will not tell you, for you might not credit it. I
venture to mention the little item of bread. The five ate
eight loves of bread !
Lanaulie was not so pretty a place as Khandalah, but it
was very lovely. There were a few Europeans in Lanaulie,
but we lived some distance from any one. My nearest
European neighbour and my only European friend was my
physician — a charming man.
We had been in Lanaulie only a few days when my
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
landlord came from Bombay to see me. He was a high-
caste Hindoo gentleman, and will always remain my beau
ideal of a landlord. I thought that he had come for his
rent when the boy brought me his card, but he had not.
He had come to ask if we were comfortable, and to bring
up a car-load of things that would, he thought, make the
bungalow more home-like to Europeans. Wasn't that
nice of him ? I believe that the place we had rented was
his chief pride. We were only able to get it, because the
death of a prominent member of his family having occurred
in Bombay, Hindoo etiquette obliged the entire family to
remain in Bombay through a long period of mourning. My
landlord was a most interesting man and a large-minded one.
His wife, whom I never met, was a strict observer of caste.
She felt rather badly that Europeans were in their country
house. Her dining-room was not in the house ; but, in
the Hindoo fashion, in an outer house. This room was
locked from us by the mistress's order, and in this dining-
room were stored her Lares and Penates, namely, their
cooking utensils and their chattees and their silk robes.
Rigid high-caste Hindoos put on a silk garment before
they eat. My landlord was far less conservative than his
wife. He often had afternoon tea with us, and was kindly
ready to explain to me any of their puzzling customs.
No strict Brahmin eats meat. I know a prominent
Hindoo gentleman who used, with his son, to steal into the
Lanaulie Hotel or even to the Dak Bungalow, and in a
private room have a hearty meal of meat. Father and son
did it slyly, not because of public opinion, which they
valued at about its real worth, but to save the feelings of
the Hindoo wife and mother, who would have been in
despair had she known that they ever ate meat.
I often shut my eyes and dream that I am back on my
verandah at Lanaulie. I see the bhistie and his bullock
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HOW WE KEPT HOUSE ON THE HILLS
come through the flowers to beg. The bhistie wants pice
and the pretty bullock wants bread and fruit. They get
both. The bhistie salaams — the bullock rubs his nose
against my shoulder, and they go slowly, patiently back to
their never-ending work. I see the sun set behind the
splendid hills, I smell the world of roses that stretch
about my door. A thousand fire-flies glitter in the
grass. The big stars come out, the jackals call in the
jungle, and now and then they scurry across our garden.
I am holding a baby in my arms — a little baby that was
born in Lanaulie.

297

CHAPTER XXXIII
ORIENTAL OBSEQUIES
The Parsi Towers of Silence
OUR company had divided and respectively gone where
all bad actors and where all good actors go, — to Australia
and to London.
We lingered on in India for a few months. We were
going through the cantonments of the Punjab before we
sailed for home. We had engaged two other professionals
and had made out programmes that reminded me of our
Canton Recital. My husband had me down for a recitation
in almost every programme ; but when the time came I
very rarely did recite.
We were in Bombay for some weeks before we started
on our little final tour.
It was in Bombay, on a bright Sabbath day, that I
first saw a Tower of Silence. We drove from the sunny
Apollo Bundar, through the cool, green park, past the
statue of the Queen — the most beautiful statue of Queen
Victoria that has ever been executed.
I must own that I felt a little frightened. I had
heard so much from Anglo-Indians about the horrors of
the Parsi method of entombment that, in spite of my,
perhaps, morbid desire to see and understand all the
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ORIENTAL OBSEQUIES
characteristic phases of Eastern life, I was almost nervous
as we drove to the outer gate of the beautiful gardens that
enclose the last resting-place of the Parsis who die in
Bombay. The dokhma — to give the correct name to the round
Parsi sepulchres, that we, in our easy Anglo-Indian fashion
call Towers of Silence — the dokhma is always placed on
high ground. The sanitary reasons for this are obvious.
In Bombay there are three Towers. They were built at
different periods and mark the increase in Bombay of
Parsi affluence, and of Parsi numbers. The oldest and
smallest was built soon after the followers of Zoroaster
had fled from Persia to Ind.
These Parsi mortuaries were in every way different
from what I had imagined them ; but, after seeing what
they really are, my utmost philosophy revolts and sickens
at the thought of the poor dead body, torn, as it is, by the
claws and beaks of the human -flesh -fed vultures. But
that the Parsi disposition of the dead is anything but
healthy, I dispute ; and the surroundings and situation of
the Bombay dokhmas are dignified and beautiful in the
extreme. When our carriage stopped we walked up a
gradual rise, gravel -paved and tree edged, to a vine-
covered lodge. Here we were eagerly seized upon by
one of the half-dozen gatekeepers, who are glad to act
as guides to curious strangers. We went on and up,
passing groups of graceful, luxuriant trees, and beds of
brilliant, ill-assorted flowers. Our guide took us into a
little house, in which is kept a model of the dokhma. From
this you learn what the inner construction of every Parsi
dokhma is ; for into no dokhma are you allowed to look.
On the bottom of the Tower is a thick flooring of lime.
A few feet above is the grating upon which the bodies are
laid. This grating is divided into three tiers ; not above
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each other, but inside each other. Each tier is divided
into the same number of sections. These sections are
formed by iron rays that spring from the centre of the
Tower to its outer circumference or wall ; hence, the
compartments of the inner tier are smaller than those of the
centre tier, those of the centre tier smaller than those of
the outer. The outer tier is reserved for the bodies of
men, the inner tier for the bodies of children, and on the
centre tier the swooping vultures find the bodies of the
Parsi women.
Only the attendants of the dokhma are allowed to enter
it with the dead. They pass quickly up a narrow aisle
that runs from the doorway, and place the dead upon the
appointed place ; they tear the sheets rapidly from the
body ; for the vultures are waiting, and they do not
wait tamely. Only one article is left upon the corpse :
the kusti. The attendants hurry away, and the vultures,
with horrid cries, rush down upon their prey.
The kusti is one of the two badges of the followers
of Zoroaster. It is a woollen cord, and is hollow. Only
the women of the priest caste are allowed to weave it
It must be woven of seventy-two threads and be about a
sixteenth of an inch in diameter. It is first woven as a
continuous cord, and has, of course, no ends. About a
foot of the warp is left unwoven ; then it is passed on to
a priest. He cuts the unwoven bit in the centre. This
makes two ends of loose threads. These he braids to
within an inch of their extremities ; then he divides each
braid into three little braids. All the time he repeats
prescribed prayers in Zend, not one word of which he
understands. The Parsi prayers are handed down from
generation to generation, learned mechanically, and it is
very exceptional for even a high priest to understand
them. 300

ORIENTAL OBSEQUIES
The kusti is tied loosely about the waist, early in the
Parsi life — at or before puberty, I believe. It denotes
chastity, which is the chief requirement of the Parsi
religion. The kusti is the last garment to leave the
Parsi's body. It is torn off by the devouring vultures.
The vultures are kept and bred, by the attendants of
the dokhmas, for the purpose of cleaning the flesh from off
the bones of the Parsi dead. They are only a few hours,
at the longest, in executing their gruesome task. The
dokhma is roofless. When the rain falls, it washes the
dust of the crumbling bones down to the lime flooring.
From there it gradually drains away, and is absorbed
again into the economy of nature, in a way absolutely
harmless to the living.
A few yards from the Tower of Silence is a white
stone. It is kept clean, and shines up from the green
grass. Nearer the dokhma than this stone no one may
go, save the dead and the professional attendants. It is
the Stone of Parting, the Stone of Good-bye, of Everlasting
Farewell. Beyond it, the dead must go from those who
have loved him, those he has loved ; go alone, into the
place of death, and into the something after death, whiph,
in Parsi usage, seems to us worse than death itself.
I stood by that white stone one day, with one of the
most remarkable men in the East — a Parsi. The birds
shrieked angrily as they sat upon the towers. The old
attendant said stoically, " We have had no funeral since
early yesterday, they are getting  " I drew back that
I might not hear the horrid end of his sentence. Then I
said to my companion — a liberal-minded man, with whom
we had often discussed involved social issues — " Do you
not dislike it ? " — " No," was his reply, " my wife was laid
there twenty years ago ; and I shall lie there in a few
years. It is our Parsi custom." 301

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When a Parsi dies, the body is at once washed, clothed
in garments that are clean, white, and old, carried into a room
on the lowest floor of the house, and laid on slabs of stone.
An iron bier is brought in. The Parsi women sit on
carpets, near the dead. The Parsi men sit, in long rows,
on benches, outside the house. The priests recite prayers.
After they have recited the first seven chapters of the
Izashne (a Parsi religious book) the dead is placed upon
the bier. Then a dog is brought in and made to look at
the body ! Then the prayers are continued. The body is
carried from the house amid gesticulations of deep respect.
A procession is formed and the remains are followed
to the dokhma by relatives, friends, and professional
attendants, all dressed in old, clean, white clothes. Prayers
are again recited at the " Good-bye Stone," and while the
body is being placed in the Tower.
On the third day after the death, all the friends of
the dead gather, in the afternoon, at the house of the
nearest surviving relative. From thence they go to the
Fire Temple, where a commemorative service is held.
These services recur at stated intervals ; and at the end
of the Parsi year are several holidays, sacred to the dead.
I have mentioned the Fire Temple ; but the Parsis
are not fire worshippers, though it is a common error to
call them so.
One of the most eminent of modern Parsis has
explained so well the exact attitude concerning the intro
duction of fire in the religious observances of the devout
Parsi, that I quote from him.
" The Parsis are called by others ' Fire Worshippers,'
and they defend themselves by saying that they do not
worship the fire, but regard it and other great natural
phenomena and objects as emblems of the divine power.
To me it appears that the imputation, on the one hand, is
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ORIENTAL OBSEQUIES
wrong ; and the defence, on the other hand, a little over
shot. Though the Parsi ' remembers, praises, loves, or
regards holy ' whatever is beautiful, or wonderful, or
harmless, or useful in Nature, he never asks from an
unintelligent material object assistance or benefit ; he is,
therefore, no idolater or worshipper of matter. On the
other hand, when the Parsi addresses his prayers to
Hormuzd, or God, he never thinks it at all necessary that
he should turn his face to any particular object. He
would say, and does say, his ' Hormuzd yasht ' (prayer to
Hormuzd) anywhere whatever, without the slightest mis
giving. Again, when he addresses the angel of water, or
any other but that of fire, he does not stand before the
fire. It is only when he addresses the angel of fire that
he turns his face to the fire. In short, in addressing any
particular angel, he turns his face to the object of that
angel's guardianship as his emblem ; but, in his prayers
to Hormuzd, he recognises or uses, or turns his face to, no
emblems whatever. Since fire only could be brought
within the limits of the temple — any of the grand objects
of nature (as the sea, the sun, etc.) being unavailable for
this purpose — the temples naturally became the sanctu
aries of fire alone, and hence has arisen the mistake of the
Parsis being regarded as ' Fire Worshippers.' "
This is precisely what I was told by every intelligent
Parsi with whom I spoke on the subject ; but very few
of them expressed it so clearly and ably.
I was asked, in Bombay, to follow a little Parsi
baby to the dokhma. I intended doing so — not out of
curiosity — but out of sympathy and liking for its mother.
I even started; but before we were half-way there I
turned back. I thought of that little white stone where
the white-robed procession must stop, beyond which the
mother might not go. The vultures sometimes scream
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when the halt is made at the "Farewell Stone." I
could not go. I could not see that little baby's body carried
to the hungry birds, in the presence of the pale, pretty, little
Parsi woman, upon whose breast I had seen it the week
before. God help any mother when she parts with her dead
child ! But I think the glad shrieks of those swooping
beast-birds must be even harder to bear than the first
fall of the earth on the coffin lid.
Asia is the graveyard of countless millions. Asia is
the home of many, many distinct races, all of which have
different burial customs. All are more or less interesting.
The Parsis, who rank above most of the Oriental
peoples in civilisation, dispose of their dead in the most
repulsive manner of any race in Asia. But they break
no sanitary law when they throw their dead to the
merciless vultures.
The Hindoo disposal of the dead is, more than that
of any other Eastern people, save the Burmese, in entire
consonance with the health of Asia's living millions.
The Burmese also practise cremation, and are, there
fore, as much as the Hindoos, the guardians of public
health. It is the Burmese who most hate death, and
who mourn longest for their dead.
The Chinese are, in their funeral rites, the most
fantastic, the noisiest, and the most callous. Their
custom of keeping the dead unburied for long years, and
their mode of interment, which is usually above ground,
are a positive menace, not alone to their own health
and the health of the stranger within their gates, but also
to the health of all Asia.
The Japanese, who are Past Masters of the difficult
art of living gracefully, pleasantly, satisfactorily, and with
dignity, meet death with more self-control than any of
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ORIENTAL OBSEQUIES
their fellow Asiatics. There is nothing in their funeral
customs to offend the most fastidious European or the
most prejudiced American. Their cemeteries, if we are
to have cemeteries at all, might well be models for the
civilised world — models of peaceful, quiet beauty, ideal
resting-places surrounded by the everlasting hills, which
lift their high, hopeful heads as if in promise of im
mortality — places full of flowers that live so brightly and
die so sweetly that they whisper with their gentle, per
fumed lips the only one consolation for death — if death
be eternal. The Cingalese, the Sikhs, the Mohammedans, deserve
mention in this little series ; but then so do a score of
others. May they all rest in peace, the simple native
folk, and know no trouble, feel no pain, in that strange
land from which is sent us no Book of Travels, and not
even a newspaper letter — "The undiscover'd country
from whose bourn no traveller returns ! "

X 305

CHAPTER XXXIV
ORIENTAL NUPTIALS
A Parsi Wedding
The Parsi gentlemen are charming. The Parsi women
are delicate in appearance, refined and womanly, and, I
thought, rather stupid ; but very possibly what I was rude
enough to think stupidity was reserve. I found it quite
impossible to get acquainted with them, or at least to pass
beyond the barriers of slight acquaintance. I " made
friends " with but one Parsi woman. She was dainty in all
her ways, gracious and hospitable to a degree, an ideal
housekeeper, from a Parsi point of view, a loved and
loving wife, a devoted and happy mother ; but she was
rather uneducated, and had, I thought, no great mental
capacity. When we were first living in Bombay, I found the
Parsi men rather difficult My husband would tell me
that this one was decidedly clever, and the other one
highly educated ; yet, if I entered the room where he
was sitting with both of them, they invariably froze con
versationally. One condoled with me about the weather,
and the other asked me if I did not find the Bombay
shops superior to those in Calcutta. I replied that I
never went shopping, that if I really had to have any-
306

ORIENTAL NUPTIALS
thing, my nurse bought it for me. One of them laughed
heartily and evidently thought that I was joking ; the
other cast down his eyes and looked embarrassed. He
went home an hour later and told his wife that I was
not quite right in my head, and that my husband had
to carry about a nurse for me, who dressed me and un
dressed me, and that I was not allowed to go into a shop
alone. It was some weeks before I could make those two
Parsi men — of whom we saw a great deal — understand
that they could discuss in my presence anything of
serious importance, not to mention the doings of the
French Academy or the writings of Herbert Spencer,
without being guilty of a rudeness analogous to that of
speaking before me in a language with which I was un
acquainted. We became good friends, and they were
angels of patience in telling me all I longed to know
about the history of their race, its manners and customs,
and its belief. But I suspect that they would have liked
me better had I thought — as did the wife of a prominent
Parsi at Poona — that St. Petersburg was the capital of
Italy ! I believe that there are no men in the world more
kind to their women than the Parsi men ; but they do not
regard those women as their intellectual fellows ; nor do
the women aspire to be so regarded. This simplifies the
Parsi marriage question amazingly — simplifies it to the
loss of the men and to the gain of the women.
The Parsis are in a transition state. The customs
that they all rigidly observed fifty years ago are now
observed by less than half their number, and rarely with
entire rigidity. The Parsi wedding I saw a little over
two years ago in Bombay was not the Parsi wedding of
the last century ; but it was picturesque in the extreme.
It was un-European and merits description, I think ; for,
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were I to return to Bombay in 1950, I should expect to
find almost all the old Parsi customs quite discarded.
The father of the bridegroom came a few days before
the marriage to invite us to the ceremony and to the
feast, which was very polite of him, as invitations are
usually given by priests, and only when an especial com
pliment is intended does the father of one of the con
tracting parties go in person to bid the guest. In this
instance it was a love match, which always makes it a
bit more interesting to a woman ; and the bride was
exquisitely pretty, which always makes it more interesting
to a man. Both bride and bridegroom belonged to very
wealthy and prominent Parsi families. All the Bombay
Parsi Mite were there.
Child marriages are still, I believe, a part of the
Parsi code, but not of the Parsi custom. Children are still
betrothed very young, but not often. The bridegroom of
whom I am writing was about twenty-seven, and the
bride looked about twenty.
At four in the afternoon, the bridegroom and his
friends marched to the house of the bride. The men
were all dressed in white, and very striking they looked.
Almost every well-to-do {i.e. well-fed) Parsi man is hand
some. A band of music was with the procession, and
played unceasingly. Formerly the Parsi women formed
a considerable part of every Parsi marriage procession ;
but on this occasion there were only men. The bride
groom's mother had preceded him, inconspicuously, to the
house of the bride, bearing with her the prescribed gift
of a dress. At the end of the procession walked a score
or more of coolies carrying on their heads shallow baskets,
heaped with cocoanuts. At every turn of the street, a
cocoanut was waved about the bridegroom's head, then
broken and thrown away. Some time before the bride's
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ORIENTAL NUPTIALS
house was reached, her only sister met the procession,
carrying three silver chattees. Into the upper one the
bridegroom dropped a rupee. That was, I believe, sym
bolical of his determination never to fail to befriend his
wife's family. At the threshold of the house, an aunt of the
bride threw rice and water and an uncooked egg beneath
the feet of the bridegroom ; then she welcomed him.in ;
and he was careful to put his right foot in before his left.
We women — about two hundred Parsis and three
Europeans — were waiting in a large, handsomely-furnished
room. The bride's father had spent some time in
France when a young man, and Louis XV. cabinets
were crowded between black, carved Indian tables, and
creamy Chinese ivories. The Parsi ladies sat on small
silk carpets that had been placed for them on the floor.
I and my two compatriots (whom I did not know) sat
in solemn elegance upon a solitary satin sofa. The men
all sat about the walls, on low, narrow, backless benches,
and I noticed that the European men, of whom there
were about twenty, looked neither graceful nor comfort
able. The father of the bride and the father of the
groom sat down side by side, and the chief priest
blessed them. In the centre of the room a low platform
of stone had been built ; this is called the " wedding
booth." Sometimes a complete booth is erected and
richly decorated, but not invariably. The stone founda
tion, however, must be laid. It denotes purity and
chastity. Chastity in the best and broadest sense is
the beginning and end of the Parsi religion. Two chairs
were placed, side by side, upon the stone foundation.
Then the bride came in with her mother.
I caught my breath, she was so pretty ! Her skin
was fairer than mine, but with a lovely olive tinge in it.
Her scarlet lips were trembling with a shy, half smile.
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She was dressed, or rather wrapped, in a pale-blue satin
sari ; it was edged with a delicate embroidery of pink and
gold. Her little hands were heavy with gems. Her
slender throat was hidden by a string of big pearls, and a
string of bigger diamonds. There were diamonds at her
girdle, and diamonds caught here and there her satin
draperies. As she moved slowly forward, her graceful
garment half hid, half revealed, the delicate outlines of her
svelte figure. She lifted her big brown eyes for a half
instant to the face of the man who was waiting for her,
and I thought of Byron's Zadie.
The contracting couple were seated upon the chairs
that were on the stone. They were facing each other.
Then the ceremony proper began. A priest tied their
right hands together with a soft, silken, bright-red thread.
Two younger priests stepped forward, carrying a large
piece of yellow cloth. This they held between the bride
and bridegroom. The chief priest stood near them, hold
ing in one hand a lit censer and in the other a dish of
benjamin. Another priest gave a handful of rice to both
the bridegroom and his bride. The chief priest began a
long prayer. At a certain word, for which the young
couple listened intently, he threw the incense into the fire.
At that moment the couple threw their handfuls of rice
each into the other's face. Then their position was changed,
and they were placed side by side. Two of the priests stood
before them, and two witnesses stood beside them, holding
brass plates heaped with rice. The priests began the
marriage blessing. This they recited in Zend and Sanscrit,
and at every sentence they pelted the couple with rice.
Then the priest put the two questions, " Have you
espoused her ? " and " Have you espoused him ? " He
was answered, " Yes, I have espoused her," and " Yes, I
have espoused him." The questions and the answers were
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ORIENTAL NUPTIALS
in Persian, of which, I believe, the contracting parties, the
priests, and the guests, were equally ignorant.
During the long prayers I looked at the assembled
company as often as I could tear my eyes from the bride's
pretty, flushing face. I saw a royal banquet once. It was
in Munich, in celebration of the marriage of the King's
brother with the Emperor of Austria's daughter. I have
always remembered it as a gigantic display of diamonds.
But it was insignificant beside the display of diamonds at
that Parsi wedding. Many of the Parsis in Bombay are
very rich. All the Parsis are extravagantly fond of gems ;
and the Parsi men dearly delight in decking their women
to the utmost A European man, who was more bored
than interested with the strange marriage service, told me
afterwards that he had tried to compute how many lakhs
of rupees were represented there by diamonds, — " But I
had to give it up after half an hour," he said ; " the things
flashed and danced so, that they made my head ache."
All the women were exquisitely dressed. The Parsis have
an almost French abundance of good taste. Indeed they
are like the French in many ways. The bride's mother
wore more diamonds than any lady present, excepting
only the bridegroom's mother. It was hard to say which
of those two was the most bejewelled, and harder still to
understand how they held their heads up, and moved
their arms.
After the marriage benediction there were other cere
monies, more fanciful and less interesting. The husband
and wife (which they now were) ate out of one dish, and
each found in it a ring.
The marriage feast followed in an adjacent room.
This was a very European innovation. Among strictly
conservative Parsis the marriage feasts are all held at the
house of the bridegroom's father.
3H

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
Upon the floor of the '' dining-room " were laid long
silken carpets. They were about a foot and a half wide, and
about fifty feet long. Upon them the Parsi guests seated
themselves. We Europeans were shown to an elaborately-
laid table, in an adjacent room. I asked permission to sit
and eat with the Parsis. They made me very welcome,
and I ate all sorts of good things, with my fingers. I do
not know whether my intrusion was felt a pollution, as it
would have been at an orthodox Hindoo feast My hosts
(which they all seemed to feel themselves) were too well
bred to let me feel that I was de trop, and I believe they
were far too sensible to resent my respectful curiosity.
Indeed the presence of the Parsi ladies was so very im
proper that they could well afford to wink at the greater
enormity of eating with one European woman.
When we were living at Khandalah our nearest
neighbours were Parsis. I never grew to know them well.
We had very little in common, the graceful feminine
women and I, but my bairns became very much at home
in their bungalow. My boy used to come home with
bulging pockets, and I very often took a surreptitious
nibble of the Parsi sweetmeats that had been given him —
they were so very good. But I had tasted nothing in
Khandalah so nice as many of the dishes given me at this
Parsi wedding in Bombay. I had a plantain leaf for a
plate, and, as I have said, my fingers for forks. The other
Europeans laughed at me, and told me they had oysters
and champagne and a score of other conventional dainties
at their nicely damasked table. I returned their laugh
with something very like a sneer. I had eaten of a
hundred unknown delicacies, and I could have oysters and
champagne galore any time at the hotel.
Except in the matter of hats and caps, many Parsi
men, on ordinary occasions, dress quite like Europeans ;
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ORIENTAL NUPTIALS
but I have never seen a Parsi woman in European dress.
In this respect, at least, they are wiser than the Japanese
women, whom they are like in being fragile, pretty, and
dainty. Mr. Dadabhai Naoroji said, in a paper read before
the Liverpool Philomathic Society in 1861 : "There is
neither bigamy nor polygamy amongst the Parsis. They
are simple monogamists." When Mr. Naoroji wrote that,
it was undoubtedly true. In the strict, narrow sense it is
true now, but in the broadest and most beautiful sense, it
is, I think, no longer wholly true. Chastity is the great
law of Parsi life, and the Parsi women have, I believe,
been guarded, not only from any possible infringement of
that law, but even from the knowledge that the law is
ever broken. But I am disinclined to believe that the
Parsi men obey the chief command of their ancestral
faith as staunchly as they used to do. Perhaps, alas,
when the Parsi women have learned to mingle as freely
with the Europeans, and to adopt their ways as fully as
the Parsi men do now, they may gain the sad knowledge
that there is one law for man and another for woman —
that right is of one sex and wrong of another.
Periodically there is an Occidental agitation for
the advancement and the emancipation of the women
of the Orient. As far as that agitation aims at giving
the women of the East medical succour in their hours of
pain, as far as it seeks to teach them the best possi
bilities and the best care of their own bodies and of their
children's, it has my warmest sympathy ; but when it
attempts their disturbance, mental and moral, I deplore
it. Intellectuality, education, enfranchisement, are all
very fine, but happiness is far finer. Over- educate,
abnormally develop woman's intellect, create in her a
longing for freedom which will gall her, and you destroy
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
half her happiness. We are very learned, you and I who
live in the West ; we understand quadratic equations and
we read Greek ; we are man's equal, or think we are.
Let us be satisfied with our own big mental attainments,
and let us leave the Marthas of the East their placid
content, their sweet, unsophisticated happiness.

314

CHAPTER XXXV
AT SUBATHU, WHERE THE BAGPIPES PLAY AND THE
LEPERS HIDE
We went from Bombay to Mhow, — such a desolate can
tonment ! — such a dak bungalow ! But we had a charm
ing audience for our first funny little performance. The
last time I had played — some months before in Bombay
— the bill had been the Merchant of Venice, and we had
had ample accessories of scenery and supernumeraries.
This was very different ; there were only four of us.
When we were not on the stage we were rushing madly
into another costume and another character ; and the less
said about the regimental scenery the better. But the
regimental audience was ideal. Uncle's Will, scenes from
Hamlet, scenes from Othello, and sprinklings of recitations
— they received them all with the greatest good-nature,
and beamed upon us with hearty kindness.
Our next halt was at Allahabad, where we felt almost
at home. We divided our nights between the Railroad
Theatre and the Regimental Theatre, and our days went
all too swiftly in the bazaars and in the barracks.
Then we went to Cawnpore. We played there, but
for once in my life I felt that acting was a very second
ary consideration. One could not think of one's self, nor
even of one's work, when one stood for the first time
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upon that sadly sacred ground. I should, in time, no
doubt, have grown used to being in Cawnpore, and have
taken up right merrily the petty thread of my personal
existence ; but we were in Cawnpore but a few days, and
all the time I seemed to hear the cries of women and
children, and see the red-handed natives drunk with
butchery. An army friend went to Cawnpore with us, so that
for the nonce our little " troupe " was augmented to five
—quite a regiment. In Cawnpore I went through the
bazaars very little, but we wandered back each day to
the little graveyard that clusters about the Well, and to
the Memorial Church. An uncle of my husband's was
killed at the Cawnpore massacre, — that saddened him
and saddened me.
Lucknow and Agra were very beautiful, and greatly
interesting ; and through the streets of both marched the
soldiers — our soldiers !
The Residency at Lucknow is a tomb commemor
ating the fidelity and devotion of English women. At
Agra is the Tomb of Tombs — the most beautiful of all
tombs. It tells the story of a man's love and grief — love
for a wife, and grief for her death.
On through Meerut and Muttra — through regiments
of new friends and companies of old. How pleasant
those days were, and how hot ! Umballa was a place of
horror. We went to Patiala for a week or two. We were
lodged at the State Dak Bungalow ; we were the Maha
rajah's guests — and certainly our host was very princely.
He is the owner of innumerable horses. We were met
at the station by a state carriage — such a state carriage !
—and it and another were at our disposal while we
remained in Patiala. 3i6

AT SUBATHU
Though the Maharajah was surrounded by quite a
little coterie of Europeans, Patiala is the most genuinely
native place, of any considerable size, that I know in
India. The bazaars were absolutely guiltless of Euro
pean taint. I could have spent years in Patiala, not
because of the treasure -rich palace, not because of the
wonderful games of Polo, not for the pretty little river,
nor for the huge caparisoned elephants, but for the quaint,
genuine flavour of native life.
The Sikhs are a splendid race of men. To look into
the eyes of the best manner of Sikh is to feel that you
can trust him.
We played at Patiala — I forget how many nights.
We played merely for the Maharajah and his guests.
We played at whatever hour pleased him, and we were
paid whether we played or not. We had heard of the
Maharajah as a pleasure -loving young fellow, and we
expected to please him most with our comediettas and
farces, but it was the scenes that we did from Shake
speare that his Highness demanded, over and over. We
found him an inveterate and appreciative theatre-goer,
and my husband, who came to know the Maharajah
much better than I did, was often surprised by a long
and correctly quoted passage from Shakespeare. The
theatre at Patiala was charming and comfortable.
The Maharajah of Patiala has one of the best bands
to which I ever listened. The parks and public grounds
are beautifully kept, and Patiala — with its rose gardens
and its purdah-hidden harems — is thriving in the heart of
modernised Asia.
We met in Patiala, and afterwards in Simla, the
European lady who has recently married the Maharajah
of Patiala. Such a marriage may, of course, change
many old time-honoured Patiala customs.
3^7

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
We went back to Umballa, and then we journeyed
up into the Himalayas. Into cantonments where there
was not so much as a Dak Bungalow, and we had to eat
and sleep as best we might. We left the railway and
civilisation at Kalka. We went up to Dagshai in doolies,
and on horseback. Ayah sat with our little luggage on
an ekka, and she said she didn't like it. I could see no
earthly reason why she should like it. But I thought
that she was beautifully clever to stick on ; any ordinary
mortal would have tumbled in fragments on the ground.
It was a marvellous ride. Every few hours we
stopped and lit a fire by the mountain roadside — a fire of
twigs. We made tea, and warmed milk, and ate a little
cold lunch, and washed our hands and faces while the
coolies lay resting in the shade and smoking their
hookahs. Our road went from beauty into beauty that was
greater. At Darjeeling we had seen the Himalayas
covered with snow. Now we saw the Himalayas aglow
with bloom, perfumed with fruit and athrob with life — the
life of bird and of beast.
It is strange how confident you grow in the coolies
who carry you up and down the steep mountain paths of
Asia. I have had my bearers go on their hands and
knees to manage some peculiarly difficult bit of road.
But I have never had them stumble or even shake me
roughly — save once, which didn't count.
Ayah seemed more fearful than I — and she always
insisted upon carrying Baby over the rough parts. That
gave her a great deal to do, for most of the paths over
the Himalayas were very rough.
Up — -up — up we went, until we reached high Dagshai.
That was no place for European civilians. It was wholly
and solely for British soldiers and bazaar natives. But
3i8

AT SUBATHU
they were all glad enough to see us. We meant money
to the natives and entertainment to the warriors. We
were given an officer's empty bungalow. Some one sent
us afternoon tea. It was about six o'clock. By midnight
our bungalow was furnished, our larder was filled, and we
had half a dozen servants pottering about as industriously
as if they had been in our employ for years. That could
only happen in India, I think. But it happened in India
very easily — quite as a matter of course. The natives
take things as they come, and they are accustomed to
making shift. Their own lives are often one long make
shift. That makes them very useful in our little domestic
emergencies. The Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, and a
detachment of the Derbyshires were in Dagshai. The
Derbyshires were old friends of ours. They had welcomed
us to Jubblepore and to Umballa. The Highlanders, too,
we had known in Hong-Kong. It used to give one quite
a feeling of having come home, to go into a strange can
tonment and see a familiar uniform or a well-known tartan.
In the 93 rd there were boys whose surnames had been
by their fathers written gloriously upon the history of the
Mutiny. It was some hours' journey from Dagshai to Subathu.
We got into our chairs in the early morning ; it was not
far from sunset when we came in sight of the Subathu
barracks. The bagpipes called us a quaint Scotch
welcome, and as we rounded the last khud and passed by
the parade ground, the windy music sounded very sweet
to me. And I could have cried with all my heart ," Bring
on the Tartan ! "
And again we had come to friends, for we had known
the regiment in Colombo. There is no regiment in the
service that we have had cause to like — yes, to love, more
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
than the Gordon Highlanders. No wonder that every
man in the regiment is proud to be in it.
Again we were domiciled in an empty bungalow.
But our housekeeping was very simple. Our bungalow
was near the officers' mess, and from there our meals
were sent us.
We had expected to be in Subathu some days, but
we stayed much longer. Baby was ill and we dared not
travel. But we went on playing, and night after night
we did our work with hopeful hearts and a full house,
because of a regiment's hospitality. When we had
exhausted our own little repertoire, the regimental
amateurs played with us, and that enabled us to play
Caste and several other pieces that are dear to the
heart of Tommy Atkins.
One subaltern played Eccles for us on three hours'
notice, and played it splendidly. But Captain Macready
was the histrionic genius of the corps. I have never seen
an amateur who compared with him for finish, artistic
breadth, and actor- like exactness. Captain Macready
inherits his dramatic gift, probably, for he is the son of one
of the greatest actors who ever played upon our English
stage. There are other names in the regiment that come
back to me warmly. But if I told of them all, it would
read too much like a leaf out of the Army List.
It was at Subathu that I first went freely among the
lepers. The wife of the regimental chaplain gave me a
letter to the superintendent of the leper asylum. I was a
little frightened at first, when I passed into the place of
pain, but the terror of the place was too great for petty
feeling to last.
I have always believed that charity should begin at
home. And I believe it still. But the lepers are a people
apart. Their misery cries out above all other human
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AT SUBATHU
misery. Science and love should unite their utmost
strength to wipe this great and antique curse off the face
of our earth. If you think I exaggerate, when I say that
there is no human misery that compares with the misery
of leprosy, go among the lepers and see.
And what shall I say of the man and woman who are
devoting their lives to those Subathu lepers ? They were
people of unusual culture — people who would have been
first among almost any of their fellows, and they, who
were not fanatics, but healthy, wholesome human creatures
had elected to live with and for the lepers. I felt, when I
saw them last, on the steps of their bungalow, that I could
cover their hands with kisses and bless them. I feel so
still. There are no words that would even partly describe
the agonies of those lepers. Some of them moaned, some
prayed, some wept, some only crouched on their beds and
waited for death.
One poor fellow I shall never forget He belonged to
the highest Brahmin caste. He would no more have eaten
with me, nor have let me touch his chattee, than he would
have jumped into a river of fire. But his Brahmin courtesy
he never laid aside for a moment. When I came to the
door of his hut, he invariably struggled on to his feetless
legs and cried me a smiling " salaam."
One morning we journeyed on to Kausali. It is a
wonderful place, high, high on the hills. We were there a
week or more, and then we came sadly back to Subathu,
for we had left our little baby in the cantonment cemetery
at Kausali.

321

CHAPTER XXXVI
IN THE OFFICERS' MESS
PEOPLE who have seen both tell me that my perform
ance of Polly Eccles is inferior to that of Mrs. Bancroft.
But I have, I fancy, excelled Mrs. Bancroft in one par
ticular : I have doubled Polly and the Marquise. I did it
in Simla — did it with Aclat.
The generous friend who was coming from Subathu to
play the Marquise was detained at the last moment. We
were in despair. The house was beautifully sold for that,
our first night in Simla, and we could ill afford to return
the money ; we could still less afford to postpone our
opening and break faith with our public.
" I will double the part with Polly," I said as we sat
mournfully on the stage at two in the afternoon.
" It's an impossible double," said Sam Gerridge.
" It's a very ugly double," I said. '' But if you like,
I'll try it."
We took the prompt-book and we did some remarkable
things to it. But I am sure that Robertson himself
would have forgiven us — under all the circumstances — had
he been there.
Then we had a flying rehearsal of the changes, and I
went back to the hotel to face the grave difficulty of dresses
for Madame la Marquise. I had frocks enough that would
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IN THE OFFICERS' MESS
do for the part at a pinch. But the great desideratum was
to contrive something into which and out of which I could
get with very great rapidity. I think that we did well,
Ayah and I. She didn't in the least know what it was all
about, but she did what she was told — and did it exactly.
Dear old black treasure ! How calm, how helpful she

was

Fortunately there had been no question of studying
for me. I had played so many times in Caste, I had
rehearsed so many Marquises, and my " study," as we play-
folks call the memory of words, has always been a blessed
and useful one. It never fails or betrays me.
The first act went as well as I had ever known it to
do. We were all just enough nervous to be rather brilliant.
There were three Gordon Highlanders in the caste, and
well as they had played their parts in their own regimental
theatre, they excelled themselves at Simla.
Captain Macready's " George D'Alroy " was a masterly
performance. Captain-Surgeon Barratt's " Hawtree " was
really fine.
The second act came. I went on, more pins than
anything else. When the Marquise was announced I
cried, " Oh, let me see her ! " D'Alroy picked me up and
carried me through the folding doors at the back. I
pulled out pins as we went. Ayah was there at her post.
Screens had been arranged for me and, while I made a
change, I called out that I greatly desired to see a " real
live Marchioness." Ayah never spoke, but she worked
like the heroine she was, and I went back on to the stage,
as La Marquise de St. Maur, in less than one minute after
I left it as Polly.
How they cheered me ! I had heard that Simla
audiences were cold, and that they looked unkindly upon
professionals, whom they regarded as intruders in Simla.
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
But we must speak of people as we find them, even if we
find them in Simla. And I found that audience kind to
a fault. My professional experience has been very varied,
and it was no great thing for me to change frock and wig
inside of a minute. But I suppose they thought it quick
work, and they applauded and commended as if I had
done something very plucky. I made seven " changes "
that night, and they greeted each in the heartiest way.
It was brisk work, but on the whole it was rather good
fun and left one no time to think. Poor Ayah was rather
puzzled. But the next night it all dawned upon her and
she exclaimed, " I now see, lal coatie memsahib no come.
My memsahib do two piece — her proper piece, and lal
coatie memsahib's piece. Now lal coatie memsahib yes
come, my memsahib do one piece, her proper piece."
Strangely enough I have since then doubled Polly and
the Marquise not once but thrice : once at Murree, twice
at Rawal Pindi.
There is no spot in India lovelier than Simla. We
went on " off nights " to play at the regimental theatre at
Jutogh, a tiny cantonment a few miles from Simla.
Several companies of different regiments were stationed
there for rifle practice. We went and came in 'rickshaws.
I often dream of those rides. Simla seemed very near
heaven when the stars came up over the big trees and the
moon hung low over the mountains. And the birds
thought it was day, and called to their mates. The ride
was long — but to me it never seemed half long enough.
I could have leaned back in my 'rickshaw and let the
coolies pull me on into eternity, up to the infinite. One
felt very near Nature up there in the hills. I often
thought of home as we went slowly on through the night
and the great silence. But I never was home-sick, save
for the past, and I knew in my heart that I should feel it
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IN THE OFFICERS' MESS
bitterly when we came to say a last good-bye to India.
And I did feel it, very bitterly indeed.
But it was the grandest of grandeur when the storms
broke up there in the mountains. Then one could hold
one's breath and think what an atom one was, and how little
anything mattered.
I shall never cease to regret India. The country itself
appealed to me ; the people delighted me. But, above
all, it was India that taught me how staunch, how kind,
how true, how generous, how altogether noble our race is,
— I learned that in the cantonments of India.
There are a hundred little midnight hospitalities that
I wish I might chronicle. Perhaps some day I may.
One I remember with especial gratitude, because it was
offered us by men whom we did not know. I have had
many a cosy little after -the -play supper in an Officers'
Mess, and many a hamper of goodies sent from the same
bountiful quarter, but one night, when the rain poured down
as if it would wash Simla away, we were urged into the
mess at Jutogh by hosts who were to us entire strangers.
Even now I don't remember their names, though they all,
if I remember, exchanged cards with my husband. But I
remember the kind hands that pulled us in out ofthe rain,
into the warmth and good cheer. We had just finished
playing at the desolate little cantonment theatre, and were
facing, with what grace we could, the long ride back to
Simla. When they came for us, we were abominably dis
hevelled, but the invitation into comfort and good cheer
was irresistibly pleasant. It was a charmingly pretty
place. But I believe that the interiors of all officers'
messes are that, — all have been that I have ever seen. I
was vulgarly hungry, and would have been delighted with
a sandwich and a mug of milk ; but with a great courage
which is the birthright of men —
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
" from Severn and from Clyde
And from the banks of the Shannon — "

they had aroused not only the khansamah but the mess
cook ; and the cook and the khansamah submitting, as poor
natives must to tyrannous Englishmen, gave us a hot supper
that made the rain sound like music.
It was always a wonder to me where all the good
things came from that found their way into regimental
larders. I suppose that, as a matter of fact, they came
from all the four quarters of the globe. I know that they
had, in that out-of-the-way place, viands that I could by
no means have bought in the big bazaars of Simla.
People talk of the good old times. Veterans tell of
the great old battles. I believe in the British army as it
stands, man to man and shoulder to shoulder. I believe
that it would come triumphant through any test. Oppor
tunity makes heroes. Given the opportunity (which I pray
they never may be) I for one am sure that the men in the
ranks and the men who officer England's forces would
to-day prove themselves, one and all, heroes.
Above all I have faith in the subaltern. I think he is
a very undervalued person. The Major-General regards
him as of less importance than a private ; and the private
regards him as of no importance at all. He is in great
demand for private theatricals. He is made useful as an
orderly officer and about the stables. He distinguishes
himself at polo ; and is splendidly en evidence on the regi
mental drag and at gymkanas. I have been told that he
writes eloquent love letters. But he does more than that.
He takes life and its vicissitudes like a man. Whatever
he does, he does like a man, and when his hour comes, he
takes his life in his hand, and if he falls — he falls with his
face to the foe and with never a murmur. Perhaps his
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IN THE OFFICERS' MESS
heart cries out sometimes, in the thick of battle or the
loneliness of the cantonments, cries out for home and for
mother. But he keeps a smiling face to the world ; and,
take him all in all, he is as true to himself as the sun is
to its orbit. If he takes you out in his " tum-tum " (and
he will if you are not too very old and ugly) he will come
very near breaking your neck, but he probably won't do it.
In the first place, his pony is sagacious and not over
mettled ; in the second, his sais knows his business ; and
in the third, he himself is not half so reckless as he pre
tends to be.
" Do you ever run over a native ? " I asked a subaltern
in Allahabad. He was simply rushing through the densest part of the
native quarter, and I wondered if our drive wouldn't end
at the police court.
"Not often," he said, "they are very clever about
getting out of the way. And it is ridiculously expensive
to run over a native. It costs fifty rupees the first time,
and a hundred the second."
Dear lad ! he wouldn't have hurt a fly. Every dog in
the cantonment loved and trusted him. But I believe
that a heartless magistrate did once fine him twenty rupees
for shaking his bearer.
Yes ; I most cordially like the subaltern. Make him
your friend if you can, and count yourself lucky. He will
be staunch and true as long as he lives, and he will do any
earthly thing for you.

327

CHAPTER XXXVII
AT THE MOUTH OF THE KHYBER PASS
The two names in India most fascinating to me were
Kashmir and Afghanistan. I longed to see Afghanistan
even more than I longed to see Kashmir. I knew hosts
of men who had been in Kashmir ; I knew four or five
women who had lived there. I knew two or three men
who had been in Afghanistan, but no woman, and the
men had not stayed there long, nor had they seen much.
One of them was a fairly high official. He had ridden
out every morning in Kabul. He was attended by a
subservient retinue, provided by the Ameer. When he
mounted they salaamed until their foreheads touched
their saddle - cloths. If he rode to the right he was
followed humbly ; if he rode to the left he was stopped
humbly, but effectually. " There was cholera in that part
of the town. Their master, the Ameer, would command
their death did they allow his English brother to catch
infection." All this fired my desire to see Afghanistan. The
journey from Rawal Pindi to Peshawar was extremely
trying. The weather was vivid, the topography of the
country was flat, and it was unrelieved by architecture
of any interest. We stopped a few days at Campbell-
pore, the most uninteresting cantonment in India, in spite
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AI-REDEEDS AT THE KIIVBER PASS.

Page 329.

AT THE MOUTH OF THE KHYBER PASS
of the elephants who salute and salaam, and in spite of
the splendid regimental drag. I shall remember the
kindness of the " Elephant Battery " when I have for
gotten Campbellpore ; but at the time Campbellpore was
a geographical horror — mitigated by the regiment — but
still a horror.
After we left Campbellpore we crossed the Attock
Bridge. We tried to think it picturesque, because it was
so famous. It was not picturesque, unless the sightseer
was endowed with an imagination that saw beauty in any
spot superlatively arid.
It never rains at Peshawar ; so all the officers of the
Scots Fusiliers say ; but it was raining when our train
crawled into the station, and it rained most of the time
we were there. I had a petty triumph at Peshawar, and
a bitter disappointment. I had been told — worse than
that, my husband had been told — that I could not go
into the native city without the protecting presence of
numerous Englishmen. Nevertheless, every day for two
weeks I spent several hours in Old Peshawar with only
my ayah, our chokera, and our gharri wallah and sais.
I did not suffer the least inconvenience from my fool-
hardiness. To a woman there is nothing more delightful in
being in India than the delight of buying, for a few
pence, a something that she feels sure will be to her an
artistic delight, for many years of colourless Western
residence. The Indian artisans, or the Indian artists
(for in India the highest art is highly mechanical) lack
the fine exactitude and the superlative grace of the
Japanese amateurs. But no art is so characteristic as the
Indian art. They have inherited everything, they have
invented nothing, nor do they appropriate anything. The
very rigidity of the Indian caste lines has kept the Indian
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
art lines pure, if it has also kept them crude. When you
are in Peshawar you are so near the borderland, across
which the bravest British soldier goes with more or less
trepidation, that the most callous European tourist is
justified in feeling himself dangerously near the interest
ing cradle of Indian art You can buy a great many
things in Peshawar ; you can buy two things there that
you can buy nowhere else in perfection — waxwork and
the skins of snow-leopards.
We associate leopards with torrid jungles, but, on
the principle that the greatest heat is cold and the
extremest cold hot, the Indian leopards sometimes find
their way up to the snows of the Himalayas. The baby
leopards that are born there are gray and white, not
brown and yellow. They are rare, and still more rarely
caught. They are called " snow-leopards " ; they look as
if they were thickly powdered with snow, and they smell
of the high, cold hills. I bought the skin of one in
Peshawar for forty rupees — about three pounds. It was
beautifully marked ; the claws were perfect, and the
teeth impressive. A few days ago, I was asked ten
pounds for the skin of a clawless, toothless snow-leopard
— a manufactured, European-looking fellow — and I was
inclined to doubt if he had seen as much of the Hima
layas as I had.
"Waxwork" is more difficult of description. I am too
ignorant of Oriental mythology to appreciate the peculiar
ities of Oriental anatomy as portrayed on Indian purdahs ;
and the Peshawar waxwork is very anatomical. Three-
legged cows follow five -legged cows in the wake of a
mightily-turbaned Rajah, who sits astride a very peculiarly
constructed peacock. I have often had my fragile heart
broken by seeing displayed in a London shop the dupli
cate of some article I had bought in the East — some
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AT THE MOUTH OF THE KHYBER PASS
article I had thought unobtainable in Europe. But I
believe I am quite secure in my sole possession of some
very fine specimens of Peshawar waxwork. You can buy
waxwork in almost every Indian bazaar and in half a
dozen London shops, but only the cheaper sorts. The
wonderful curtains, teeming with wax representations of
Indian life and Indian history ; purdahs, over which
expert Indian artists spend months and even years, can
only be bought, I believe, in two or three shops in Old
Peshawar. I bought some wonderful bits of metal work
in Peshawar. I have one quaint vessel, so characteristic
in its shape that, though it has never been used, I always
fancy it smells of coffee. I bought a marvellous little
table of fine Kashmir work, and a ridiculous native chair
constructed in the coarsest way. The two are typical of
the most careful extreme and of the most careless extreme
of Indian workmanship.
One day I spent some hours in a shop where I had
discovered a fascinating collection of Bokhara work, of
skins, and of Afghan weapons. The shop was far back
in a dark, barn-like building ; it was more like an empty
granary than anything else. The proprietor rolled up
half a dozen skins for me to sit on ; then he sent his
servants climbing up bamboo ladders into the garret.
They brought down huge rolls of temptation. When I
came to pay for what I had bought, my purse was gone.
A great excitement ensued, initiated by Ayah and
my chokera, both of whom I had taken in with me.
We hastened to the gharri, followed by the merchant and
all his assistants. Both the gharri wallah and the sais
were fast asleep, lying across the road some yards from
the gharri. About fifty natives, men, women, and children,
were crowded about the carriage. They were examining
my wrap and a Maltese lace scarf I had carelessly left on
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
the seat They made way for me good-humouredly ;
and on the front seat lay my purse. Nothing had gone
from it. That was the nearest to being mobbed I ever
came in the East. Yet I was told by European women,
who had lived for two years or more in Peshawar, that
nothing would tempt them to venture into the native city,
without half a company of soldiers.
You enter Old Peshawar through one of the pictur
esque, dilapidated gates, to which you become so used in
the Orient. As you go on, the streets grow narrower
and the natives thicker. There were streets where I saw
nothing but pottery, most of it blue and green, all of it
very common. It looked very rich and effective a few
yards off, but when I went to the booths, in which it was
displayed, it was unmitigatedly ugly. I bought one dish,
because I thought it was the ugliest piece of pottery I
had ever seen. It is made of mud and is very breakable.
Strangely enough I managed to bring it safely home, and
it even escaped the destructive fingers of the Custom
House officers at Liverpool. There were streets, miles
long, where I saw nothing but shoes and shoemakers.
Most of the shoes were bright red or green, thickly em
broidered with tinsel and mock pearls.
A queer zig-zag canal runs through Old Peshawar ;
it is crossed by bamboo bridges. On the banks, under
the blazing sun, sat the sellers of mettie and other Indian
sweets. There were piles of countless melons, some of
them bursting with their own lusciousness, there were
mountains of cocoanuts, and huge heaps of curry stuffs.
I stopped to buy a bag of gram, of which I am as fond
as an Indian. A high- caste woman came up, and
bargained, with the old man who had the stall, for a few
pie worth of gram. She wore the graceful red trousers
of her caste, and was hidden in the full folds of her white
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AT THE MOUTH OF THE KHYBER PASS
bourkha. A naked black baby toddled at her side. He
had thick silver bangles on his ankles and a string of
blue beads about his fat waist.
My husband and an officer friend arranged to take
me to the Khyber Pass. By the way, the correct spelling
of that is Kaibar, I think, but I haven't the courage of
my knowledge ; I fear not every one would recognise the
word. The " tum-tum " was packed full of ice, a hamper
of provisions was slung beneath. The escort was ready ;
we were to start at midnight ; to avoid, as far as possible,
the fearful heat of the torrid place into which we were
going. At ten o'clock we were having a wonderfully nice
little supper with some officers who were going with us
on horseback. I remember that I had an oyster on my
fork when an orderly came in with a note saying that the
commanding officer was extremely sorry, but he could
not allow me to go. Only that day Afredeeds had fired
upon a non-commissioned officer who was escorting a
gun from near the Pass to Peshawar. I sent a return
message, pleading very hard for permission to go ; but
it was refused. My husband might go, if he chose, but
the commanding officer was a Queen's servant, and he
would not risk, in the slightest way, the life of a woman.
I was so disappointed at missing the excursion that the
men all gave it up and remained with me in Peshawar.
We lingered on in Peshawar for two weeks hoping that
the Pass would become safer ; but it did not. The
war cloud thickened, and I was forced to leave without
getting even a passing glimpse of the land of the
Ameer. One morning early I rode out with a young
officer. We went as near the mouth of the Pass as
I could induce my friend to take me. As it was, he
said he would be cashiered if we were caught. I had
one glimpse of a group of Afredeeds, however, and a
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
fine, manly -looking lot they were, despite their cruel
faces. Peshawar — Peshawar of the cantonments — is dull
and vapid. It is reiterated drifts of sand, and since I
might not journey into Afghanistan I was glad to leave
Peshawar.

334

CHAPTER XXXVIII
AN IMPROMPTU DINNER-PARTY IN THE PUNJAB
We had finished the last of several brief but delightful
theatrical engagements in Rawal Pindi — if one may use
the phrase " theatrical engagement," in connection with so
small a band of strolling players as we had been. The
afternoon train was carrying the last of our little company
to Bombay. In twenty-four hours we two were going on
— by a pleasantly broken route — to Karachi. But, in the
meantime, we are going to give a dinner-party. How it
all comes back ! We had played Caste the night before,
with the kind help of regimental amateurs. Such a funny
performance of Caste ! (But that's a story by itself)
At the close of the performance we had asked " Hawtree,''
" George D'Alroy," and the prompter to risk a dinner (so
called) with us the next night. " Hawtree " was a popular
subaltern in the 6oth Rifles ; his real name is a grand old
English name. The prompter (also in the 6oth) was no
less a person than the son of his Excellency Lord Roberts.
" George D'Alroy " was a young Irishman ; his blood and
his eyes were very blue, but they were the only blue thing
about him. He was a Gordon Highlander, doing special
duty at Rawal Pindi. Besides playing " D'Alroy " he had
danced and sung " Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay " between the acts,
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
arrayed in my " Polly " wig, all my jewellery (real and
otherwise), and a specially-constructed costume.
India is, par excellence, the land of bad hotels. We
were living in Rawal Pindi at one of India's few not bad
hotels. They gave us fruit, — they knew how to cook
tomatoes, and (test of tests ! ) their ice never gave out.
But the capable European manager, who had another
hostelry at one of the hill stations, was away, and I felt
that it behoved my hostess-ship to aid, though not abet,
the khansamah. At five o'clock, when the early Indian sun called softly
all men to rise and pay Sabbath worship to lavish Nature,
my ayah brought me my chota haziri. Chota haziri means
little breakfast. Translated by an unsupervised khansamah
or a mean European boarding-house memsahib, it means
two small slices of cold toast and one cup of vile tea. But
a well-trained ayah translates it : " one cup of good tea, one
bunch of black grapes, one Bombay mango, red heart of
one melon, and an egg just come." Indian fruit in the
early Indian morning ! It is something even to remember
it. I had my bath ; there are three kinds of baths that
can only be properly enjoyed in the Punjab : sun baths,
mud baths, and water baths. I got into my gharri — a
barouche, if you please, but a very shabby one ; with a
rather black, rather naked coachman, and a very black,
very naked footman ; and I was driven to the " bazaar " :
driven through green picture bits of landscape, canopied
by the marvellous blue of perfect sky, and clothed with
the indepreciable silver of Indian lakes, where the pink
water-lilies floated : driven through the native streets, with
their fascinating panorama that was teeming with life
primitive after many centuries, — streets dense with Oriental
architecture, some rich, mostly squalid, all graceful — and
all having matchless accessories : driven to a " bazaar "
336

AN IMPROMPTU DINNER-PARTY IN THE PUNJAB
that beggars my description, and would, unless you have
seen it, overtax your imagination.
It was easy enough to provide myself with the materials
for a capital dinner, only, unfortunately, in India at that
time of the year the variety was so limited, that, whatever
I selected, I might be sure that my guests had eaten of it
very recently, and cooked far better than I could offer it to
them. For the 6oth Rifles have a famous mess, and I can
testify that the mess of the Gordon Highlanders is
excellent. I was back at the hotel at eight, and after breakfast I
had a confab with the khansamah. I gave him my little
menu, and told him what I would cook and what he was
to cook. I think that I can write out the menu now,
it was one I so often fell back upon in the East : —
Sandwiches of caviare and hard-boiled eggs. Olives.
Tomato soup.
Salmon (tinned, of course). Cucumbers.
Beef-steak. Mushrooms (tinned). Grilled potatoes.
Fricassee of chicken livers and sweetbreads.
Roast pigeons with bread sauce and limes. Baked tomatoes.
Asparagus (tinned, but delicious).
Chicken curry.
Mayonnaise salad. (No mess cook can make that as well as I can.)
Ices. Creams. Sweets. (The Indians excel at making them.)
Fruit.
Coffee.
But two items I hadn't selected were provided us — one
by the khansamah, one by that fickle purveyor, Fate. The
khansamah enlivened us with the worst champagne I have
ever tasted. We couldn't drink it, but it gave us a theme
for small-talk. And we pretended to prefer claret. Fate's
contribution was a nastier one ; for like the Egyptians of
old we had a death's head at our feast. About an hour
before we expected our friends, I heard the rapid canter of
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
a horse, and my ayah, who was sitting on the verandah,
exclaimed, " Lal coatie sahib ! " The natives have only this
one term for all British soldiers. No matter what their
uniforms, they are all " red coats." We were the only
guests in the hotel, so I ran out. Yes, the rider was one
of the boys we were expecting later. I had always seen
him so jolly ; but now he looked very worn and white. " I
have come to ask you to excuse me to-night," he said. " I
have been all the afternoon with a poor chap — a private —
who has just died. Cholera ! It was very tough. I feel a
bit done." But I vetoed that. It was the time of all times
when an English boy needed a little cheering.
It was a very grave little dinner-party when we sat
down ; the spirit of cholera was with us. Oh ! what pre
cautions you would all take, here in London, if you knew
of cholera half that I know ! How I wish that I could
voice some sharp word of warning that the mothers of
England would heed ! My servants think me a bit mad
and very troublesome. But I know what I know. I have
paid a terrible price for my knowledge. And so I insist,
and see that they obey. All our garbage is burned. Our
drinking water is boiled. We smell of carbolic from cellar
to attic. And in the nursery there is a bottle of chlorodyne,
a flask of brandy, and mustard and linen ready for plasters.
Cholera is very quick. It must be fought quickly or in
vain. Yes, we began our meal very gravely. But English
soldiers are taught the courage of cheerfulness, and we were
not gloomy, though my husband and I were leaving on the
morrow, perhaps never again to see the three soldier boys
we liked so much ; and for them that morrow held the
dreaded possibility of " cholera camp." The champagne
helped us to be almost merry, though not in a conventional
way. It is remarkable what vile champagne is sold in the
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AN IMPROMPTU DINNER-PARTY IN THE PUNJAB
East and with the very best labels ! The khansamah was
very quaint as bottle after bottle was opened, amid an ex
pectant silence that was not broken by a pop or a fizz. " It
was always the way with the best champagne," he assured
us. " The very best champagne never jumped about like
a nautch-girl. It was all good wine, not half of it bad gas.
Such champagne the ' sahibs ' did not often see." He was
in despair when the " sahibs " would not drink it ; he was
in downright distress the next morning when my husband
declined to pay for it. " He must pay — indeed he had
paid the Parsi from whom he had procured it, and he could
not get back his many rupees. He had procured it with
great difficulty. It had been wanted for the Maharajah
of Kapurthala. He was a most poor man, and he had
sold the memsahib a priceless dog for so few rupees. He
wept at our feet." We were really rather fond of the
khansamah, and we knew that we had only paid treble for
a huge half-bred bull -dog that I had fancied for my
children ; so the bill was paid less the price of one of the
half-dozen bottles that had been opened.
The following letter reached us a few days before we
sailed from Karachi. It is one of the most valued things
in my cabinet of curios : —
Hakin Raig, Mannigar Imperial Hotel,
Rpindi, 14/8/ 1892.
Mr.  Noble sur and gentlamen. Karachi city.
Sir,— You cutted the hotel Bille 1 5 Rupees. And you tolded to
me I must say to Jamasji he sold me crab wine— -and what remark
you make of it. I done all arrangements with Jamasji. He said i
don't care. I am not making here myself wine. This fault of the
shampain maker. Please hear my prayer— you write noble sur to
shampain maker. He live in france his name is Mr. Cliquot. You
tell him he sell Jamasji bad wine. And you send me money by
m.o. what you like. I pray for twenty rupees. Fifteen you cutted the
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
hotel bill. Five make me present. She is poor man. She will
pray for your long life and procespairity. Yours faithfully HAKIN RAIG.
Please tell my salam to your noble lady wife with yourself, and
say if the dog is well.
We sent him a small money-order, but we haven't yet
written to " Mr. Cliquot, Shampain, Maker, France."
I have just been looking in the last Army List.
Neither of the three young soldiers who dined with us a
year ago are missing from the noble roll. I am so glad ;
so many whom we knew and liked in India a year ago
are gone. I am personally thankful for every one of those
brave lives spared. For if it were not for the never-to-be-
for-a-moment forgotten memories of personal sorrows, I
should count as the pleasantest days of my life those when
we were strolling players in the cantonments of the Punjab.
I wonder how many European women there are in London
to-day home-sick for India? I know one. And they do
say that the Duchess of Connaught knows another. Dear
old Punjabi cantonments ! Shall I ever see them again ?

340

IDOLS IN A SIAMESE PAGODA.

Page 34 t

CHAPTER XXXIX
SALAAM !
HOW shall I say good-bye to India and to all that I left
there? I can't say it I say instead, "Salaam, burra
salaam." Hopes are impotent things often ; but I hope that
some day I may go back to the East. I wish that I
could have written more adequately of the Orient — I wish
it very much.
There are many places to which my heart goes back
eagerly, but of which I have not found time to write
a sentence. We passed some dreadful but delightful months in
the cantonments of the Punjab, when the Punjab was
hottest Murree was to me the most delightful spot in India.
It is a hill place — a resting spot and a breathing station
for soldiers who are worn out, or blessed with indulgent
Colonels. The pleasantest friends that we made in India,
we made in Murree. They were indefatigable amateurs
in Murree. Ah, what performances we gave ! Major
Freer, the Commandant, played Hawtree faultlessly ; and
Major Chancellor (alas ! he is dead now) gave a per
formance of Sir George Carlyon in In Honour Bound, that
would have greatly credited any professional. We had a
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
Talbot Champneys there who played the part better than
I ever saw it played, and a Belinda who made me look to
my laurels in my favourite part of Mary Melrose.
And the bazaars down the hill ! What rugs ! What
skins! What phulkaris! Murree is up towards Kashmir;
and the bazaar teemed with Afghans, and with ten
thousand things that were lovely.
How we roamed at night over the mountain paths,
and sang songs of home, and regretted that we were
going away !
From Rawal Pindi we went on alone, my husband
and I. We left our two children in Murree that they
might stay in the cool, healthy place until we were
ready to sail.
I felt very blue when we left for Pindi, for I knew
that I was taking my last tonga ride.
Do you know what a tonga is ? It is a unique vehicle
that grows in India ; and though it is somewhat lacking
in comfort, you grow to like it, and learn to sit at your
ease in it and not to fall out
The tonga rides in India are delightful. For me no
other scenery has so strong a fascination as that in the
hills of India ; and I recall no happier days than those
when we left a cantonment at daylight, and drove over
the wild hills to another — drove until dusk, perhaps into
the starlight. Every few hours we drew, up at a Dak
Bungalow ; and when the bungalow proved good, and the
curry was faultless, — which happened more often than not,
— India had nothing more to offer us.
From Rawal Pindi we went to Lahore. But we did
no work there. I remember writing my candid opinion
in the book that was kept by the eating-house khansamah,
and that he did not like what I wrote. We prowled
about Lahore quite like leisure people. Then we went
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SALAAM !
on to Mooltan. We went to stay two days, but we
stayed two weeks. A friend who was stationed there
took possession of us at the station. He took us home
to his bungalow ; and I often wonder how we ever left it.
We pretended to play ; but we really visited our friend
and the brother officer with whom he chummed.
We did play one night with the help of the officers.
But the heat was inexpressible ; it was fearful. We
panted. A few nights later we were to have played.
We went to the theatre. Ayah was in tears, and Abdul
was excited. Abdul said that he thought the balcony
(we were going to give, need I say what scene from
Shakespeare ?) would tumble down when I stood upon it ;
and Ayah sobbed out that the dhobie hadn't brought my
gown, which she had given him to press, and that she
didn't know where he lived. My husband and one host
addressed themselves to solidifying the balcony; and our
other host and I drove off in search of the dhobie. We
found that good and great native, but not until we had
had a prolonged drive and sundry adventures. My
companion was not as fond of the natives as I was, and
I fancy he spoke rudely to the dhobie.
We bribed the gharri wallah to drive rapidly back
to the theatre. Wre were very late, but when we reached
the play-house, we found it almost as empty as Mother
Hubbard's cupboard. My husband and three officers
sat out in the compound calmly smoking ; Ayah was
packing up ; and Abdul was pulling from off the balcony
the pink roses that had been procured for me with a good
deal of difficulty.
" Whatever's the matter ? " I said, remembering how
packed we had had the theatre a few nights before.
" Cholera ! " was the answer. It was answer enough.
Cholera had broken out in the bazaar. The theatre had
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
been put "out of bounds." So I gathered my roses
into my arms, and we drove back to the bungalow.
We were leaving Mooltan the next night ; so this
night we sat up even later than our late usual. There
were six of us there, for two other officers had come
home with us. It was Saturday night. We sat under
the great punkahs, and we played poker a little. But
that we soon gave up. My husband said I was cheating ;
but I think he was bored, because we were only playing
for matches. Perhaps we all felt that we would rather
chat away our last night in Mooltan.
I shall never forget Mooltan. I can see it now. I
can see the 15 th Bengal Lancers at their morning parade.
I can hear their grave, courteous " Salaam." Then a
cloud of swift dust dashes the picture : the polo ponies
are coming! The trees in Mooltan — I can see them
too, and feel their grateful shadow. I can see an old
ruin where the wild flowers twisted among the crumbling
fragments of what was once some great Hindoo's glory.
It is growing dusk. I'm miles away from the bungalow ;
I'm in a dark little den. A native sits on the floor. He
is making me something big and blue, something bright
and beautiful. It is Mooltani ware. I've been here for
hours, watching it grow beneath the skilful brown fingers.
The potter is almost done now. In another moment I
am driving home through the dusk with a tum-tum load
of blue pottery .
I think the sais was indignant that I had refused to
let a coolie bring it. And the beau soldat who was
driving had to drive very slowly — which I am sure he
had never before in all his life done. But I wanted to
carry home my spoils myself, because I wished to be sure
that I had the identical pieces that I had seen made ;
and I have them — or at least some of them now. Part
344

SALAAM !
of them were slaughtered by the clumsy fingers of the
Custom House officers at Liverpool. But I have some
left, and when I look at them I think of Mooltan and
our friends there.
There is something very charming about the home
lives of the officers in India. Those who are unmarried
seem to have a wonderful talent for making rooms pretty
and home-like. I know of nothing nicer than the pride
that those young officers take in their quarters, and of
nothing more gentlemanly, nor more soldierly than the
way they keep up their order and beauty.
The best housekeepers I have ever known have been
soldiers. And the best cook I ever knew was a poet. I
really think that we women need to look after the laurels
we have or are supposed to have, rather than hunt for
new ones.
We left Mooltan at dusk on Sunday. Our little
ones had come down from Murree, and we had Ned, the
monkey (whom a bold, bad subaltern had tried to steal),
and Nizam, the dog, and Abdul and Ayah — so that with
" Wadie " and ourselves we were a party of nine ; quite
a respectable number.
"Good-bye" we cried to one friend, and " auf wieder-
sehen" to the other; for one was to join us at Sukkur,
and go on with us to Karachi. The rain came down in
wild fury before the train started. The wind sobbed
and the window glasses shivered and chattered. And I
whispered "Salaam, burra Salaam" to the cantonment
where I had been so much at home, — the last cantonment
of many in which I was leaving friends, — the last canton
ment in India that I loved.
We spent a dreadful day and an indescribable night
at Sukkur. I am enthusiastic about the East — but I
except a few places ; Sukkur is emphatically one of them.
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
I shall never forget the Dak Bungalow there ; and I
feel very sure that the khansamah will never forget
me. In the evening we gave a performance. It was the
second time that we ever gave an entire performance
by ourselves ; and I remarked at the time that it would
be the last. My husband says I lost my temper ; but
I deny it I was calmly and justly furious — -that was all.
Our recital in Canton had been bad enough, but this
was worse. In Canton we gave a recital in evening
dress. In Sukkur we gave a dramatic performance in
costume. In Canton it was cool. In Sukkur it was
horridly hot.
We played Sweethearts. Yes, we did, with two
characters cut out We played A Happy Pair, and we
gave two scenes from Macbeth, a scene from Hamlet, and
a scene from Romeo and Juliet.
The worst of it was they liked it — they really did,
and the next morning a deputation asked us to stay
another night and do it again ; but I refused, on the
ground that there was not room in the Dak Bungalow
for myself and the khansamah. My husband says that
the heat and some of the cholera regulations, notably
that which forbade us ice and soda-water, had made
me ugly. He is mistaken — as he so often is. I was
never ugly in my life. I was indignant
The journey to Karachi was wonderfully interesting.
We succeeded in getting ice, and life seemed brighter.
Karachi I liked less than any other important place
in the East. And yet we spent long happy days out
fishing, and the nights surpassed all the nights of my
memory. The moon was matchless. I don't know
where it went to at dawn ; there didn't seem room for it
in the sky. When the moon shone on the sands and the
346

SALAAM !
ocean at Karachi, it was a marvel in white, silver, and
gold that I have never seen equalled.
Perhaps I saw Karachi unfortunately. I was not
pleased with the Dak Bungalow. If I expressed myself
frankly and freely re that Dak Bungalow I might, I fear,
find myself involved in a suit for libel. And the cholera
was raging. Two of our dhobies died from it, and
wherever we went, every few yards we came upon a fire
— a bonfire built by the natives to burn up the poison
fumes. Everything comes to those who wait, and a great deal
more comes to those who don't. The day came when
we left India ; I, at least, was deeply sorry. Whatever
home and the future might give me — I was leaving much
in India. Much that was sacred and precious. I had
buried hopes in the East and lost ambitions ; but I had
found much that was helpful and soothing. India, I cry
you " Salaam," and I throw mogree flowers at your feet !
We looked toward England with longing eyes. Yet
we left the Orient with reluctant feet.
It rained viciously when we reached Liverpool. We
did not care. We were home — home at last ! We looked
into each other's eyes and were glad. We had come,
hand in hand, out of the storied East. We were going,
hand in hand, into London, — the actor's Mecca.
As I glance back through my pages, I fear that I
have written too personally ; but it was the only way I
could write.
I was born with a talent. Perhaps I will be forgiven
for boasting of it, because I freely confess that it is the
only talent I have ever had. I inherited it from my
father, who had it to a very great degree. It is a talent
that sometimes brings sorrow ; but certainly no other
talent brings half so much joy. And I venture to think
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST
that if a woman can have but one talent, it is the very
best talent that she can have : the talent of loving. I
have loved the East dearly. Unless I had written of the
East as I saw it — unless I had written of my daily life
there, I must have been silent. And I wanted to speak ;
I had something to say. I do so hope that I have said
it. It is this, " Go East — go East ! "
Every blemish in my little book belongs to me, and
not one to my theme.
India is far from my feet, but close to my heart ; and
I would waft to Rangoon and to Kausali a message — a
message borne on the breath of English wood violets.

348

GLOSSARY
Note. — Only the utmost nicety of scholarship would justify one
in feeling sure that any (English) spelling of a Hindustani word
was correct. Indeed, one who is not a scholar, must, after some
years' residence in India, come to the conclusion that all spellings
of a Hindustani word are correct.
In this dilemma I have tried to avoid spellings that were
pedantic. But I have also tried to avoid spellings that were over-
English. In the following glossary, the definitions indicate the meanings
in which the words have been used in the preceding pages.
Many of the words have several other meanings. And Anglo-
Indian Hindustani is not always exact Hindustani.
The Japanese, Chinese, and Burmese words are indicated by
parenthetical initials. L T M

Agni
Amah (C. and J.)
AnnaAryamaAs'maAohana Ayah
BabaBabus Bazaar
Bearer

Betel-nut

A Hindoo god.
A nurse, a maid, a female servant.
A small coin ; a sixteenth of a rupee.
A Hindoo god.
A division or part of the Brahmin marriage
ceremony.
A nurse, a maid, a female servant.
Baby. Bengali clerks, or book-keepers.
Native market.
A valet, a man who partly does ordinary
housemaid's work — usually a Moham
medan.
The nut of the areca palm. It is very hot.
349

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST

BhagaBhistie
Bonzes (C. and J.)
Borri-wallah

Bourkha

BukshishBungalow .
BurraBurruf Cangue (C.)

Cash (C.)
Cedar jao .
Chair (C.)

Chattee
Chicken-work Chin-chin (C.)
Chit .

ChokeraChota
Chota-haziri

Chow-chow (C.)
Chowringhee CinchCoolie

CrabCue (C.)

A Hindoo god.
Water-carrier. Priests.
A pedlar of cloth, silk, etc. and of pins,
needles, and all sorts of small
necessaries.
A wrapper used by the Mohammedan ladies
of Peshawar when going through the
streets.
Any male servant.
A present, a tip, anything given servants
beyond their actual wages, etc., etc.
A house, a residence.
Large, great, foremost, or chief.
Ice, or iced.
A square board, on the principle of a stock,
into which the neck of a Chinese
prisoner is locked.
A coin of very small value.
Go straight ahead (cedar, straight ; jao, go).
A bamboo chair, slung on bamboo poles
that are carried on the shoulders of
Chinese coolies.
An earthen or metal vessel, usually used for
carrying water.
Coarse native embroidery, usually on white
cotton cloth.
How do you do ! good-bye ; thank you.
A note, a bill, a written order for goods,
refreshments, etc., a written recom
mendation.
A small boy-servant.
Small, little.
Little breakfast, a light breakfast, usually
served very early, in the sleeping
apartment.
Food.
A street in Calcutta.
Pull.One who does the hardest and roughest and
most nondescript work and receives
the smallest pay ; an unskilled, low-
priced, day labourer.
Bad.
The long braid of hair and silk or cotton
worn by a Chinaman.

350

GLOSSARY

Ddk bungalow

DhobieDhurrumtollah DhursiDhute
Doolies

Durwan .
EkkaFakir Fankwai (C.)
GandharvaGharriGharri-wallahGhatGheeGramGymkhana
Hara-kiri (J.)

Hookah
Jao ....
Jinrickshaw
Joss (C.) .
Joss sticks (C. and J.)
Kali.

A resting-house for travellers. It is pro
vided by the Government in parts of
India where there are few or no hotels.
The dak bungalows of India vary as
much in the character of their accom
modation and their degrees of comfort
as do the hotels of Europe.
A washerman, very occasionally a washer
woman.
A street in Calcutta.
A tailor, a man-dressmaker.
Milk.
Rough wooden chairs or palanquins in
which you are carried by coolies on the
hills of India.
A lodge-keeper, a front-door keeper, a gate
keeper.
A rude, peculiar native carriage. I have
only once seen a European in an ekka.
In Northern India Europeans use
ekkas as carry -alls for luggage and
servants.
A religious mendicant, a holy man wander
ing or living under an extreme religious
vow.
Foreign devil.
A Hindoo god.
A carriage.
A coachman.
Literally, steps up to or down from a place.
Clarified butter.
A leguminous seed much used by the
natives. It tastes very like a pea-nut.
The place where sports are held. The
holding of sports.
Ceremony of disembowelment. An honour
able method of self-slaughter formerly
exacted of Japanese criminals or
victims of high rank.
An Oriental pipe in which the tobacco-smoke
passes through water.
Go.
A two-wheeled vehicle pulled by a coolie or
by coolies.
A god.
Small incense sticks.
A Hindoo goddess.
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STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST

Kamlo (C.)
Kanya-danaKautukagara
Khansamah Khitmatgar
Khud Kimono (J.)
Kither Kusti
LakhLa-la-lung (C.)
Lal-coatie sahib
Madhuparka
MaharajahMaharaneeMaidan
Mallie Mangal Fe'ra
MemsahibMetrani

Missie Baba
MistreeMohurrum Nautch

Nautch ghdt
Obi (J.) .
Okurina (J.)
Padre sahib
Phidkaris .

Pice .
Pie

A prison.
A part of the Brahmin marriage ceiemony.
A room in which part of the Brahmin
marriage ceremony is performed.
A butler, a man housekeeper.
A waiter, a dining-room servant, an under
butler.
A valley.
The principal or outer robe worn by both
men and women.
Where, which way.
A hollow woollen cord worn by Parsi men.
One hundred thousand, one hundred
thousand rupees.
A thief, a liar, etc.
A red-coat gentleman, a British soldier.
A sweet mixture used at Brahmin marriages.
A Hindoo sovereign prince.
A Maharajah's wife ; his chief or queen wife
if he has more than one wife.
A park, a common.
A gardener.
A portion of the Brahmin marriage cere
mony.
Lady, mistress.
One of the lowest, or sweeper caste. A
low-caste Hindoo who removes slops
and debris, and who does work which
Hindoos of no other caste will do.
A girl baby, young lady.
A carpenter, a cook.
The chief of the Mohammedan festivals.
A professional dance, an Oriental music-
hall, a theatrical performance. A
word so eastern that it cannot be
translated into English.
A theatre, the place where a nautch is held.
A narrow belt worn above the broad sash.
A girdle. It fastens in front.
A new name given to the dead.
Clergyman, chaplain.
Draperies embroidered, and with small,
circular, slightly convex mirrors sewn
in the pattern.
A small coin equal in value to one-fourth of
an anna.
A very small coin worth a fraction of a pice.
352

GLOSSARY

Potsoe (B.)
PunkahPunkah-wallahPurandhi .
PurdahRajah'Rickshaw .
Rupee

SahibSais .
Saki (J. )
Salaam

Sampan (C.)
Saptapadi .
Sari .

Satsuma (J.)

Savitd Sayonara (J.)

Sen (C. and J.)
Sew-sew amahs (C.)
Shdstras .
Sndtaka
Soma Tali .

2 A

Skirt cloth.
A fan, also a large fan made of cloth and
hung from the ceiling.
A man who pulls pr swings a punkah.
A Hindoo god.
A curtain.
An Indian prince of a lower rank than a
Maharajah.
An abbreviation of jinrickshaw.
An Indian silver coin, originally worth two
shillings. It is now worth one shilling
and threepence.
A gentleman, master, sir.
A groom, a footman.
A liquor made of rice.
This word has more meanings than any
other word I know. It is used to ex
press ceremonious and complimentary
greeting. It means " thank you." It
means acquiescence.
A small, rude, native boat.
" Seven steps," part of the Brahmin
marriage ceremony.
A cloth or garment worn by women. One
end is wrapped about the hips, and,
hanging to the ground, forms a skirt.
The other end is brought up and worn
over the head.
A peculiarly beautiful and valuable pottery.
It is especially noted for its high
glaze, the exquisite painting with which
it is decorated, and for its interesting
history.
A Hindoo god.
Good-bye. But it is also used by Europeans
and to Europeans as a greeting or sal
utation.
A cent, one hundredth of a yen.
Women who go from door to door and do
mending.
A sacred book, considered to be of divine
authority.
A Brahmin who has finished his studies.
A Hindoo god.
A cord or necklace on which talismans are
strung. It is worn by all Hindoo
married women.
353

STROLLING PLAYERS IN THE EAST

Tdzia
Tiffin Tom-tom (C.)
TongaTopeeTum-tumVivdha-homaWallahYen (C. and J.)

A concoction of paper, tinsel, etc., carried
in Mohammedan processions.
Lunch.A brass musical instrument, or rather instru
ment of noise.
A vehicle used on the hills. It will hold
four, including the driver.
A pith sun-hat or helmet.
A dogcart.
The marriage sacrifice. Part of the Brah
min marriage ceremonial.
A man.
A dollar. It is worth a little more than
three shillings.

THE END

Printed by~R. & R. Clark, Edinburgh.
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