Recollections of a Busy Life: Being the Reminiscences of a Liverpool Merchant 1840-1910

by Sir William Bower Forwood

Impressions of India.

India awakens within us such a sense of vastness and distance, and so strongly appeals to our imagination, that one is much tempted to write at length that others may enter into our enjoyment of a country and a people so great, so picturesque, and so remarkable. It was this feeling which prompted me, while in India, to write a series of letters to the Liverpool Daily Post. These letters are too long to be reproduced here, and I must, therefore, confine myself to a brief résumé of our impressions of India. The first thing which almost staggers the imagination is the extent of our Indian Empire.

The dead City of Fatehpur Sikri,
BUILT BY AKBAR, AND WHICH FOR 300 YEARS HAS REMAINED DESERTED.

The Pilgrim City of Benares on the Ganges.

Landing in Ceylon, which lies only seven degrees north of the Equator, we were surrounded by the most profuse and luxuriant tropical vegetation; and the vertical rays of the sun kept us indoors, except in the early morning and late evening. A few days later we had passed through Calcutta and found ourselves at Darjeeling, with snow lying all about us, and with the mighty snow-ranges of the Himalayas piled up before us, and yet we had not left India. We were surrounded by 300,000,000 of people belonging to six hundred nationalities, and speaking as many languages, differing not only in nationality and in language, but in religion, in civilisation, and in their manners and customs, and all this multitude of peoples, nations, and languages were comprised in "India."

Nothing brings this great diversity among the people of India more vividly before the mind than a walk through one of the main streets of Calcutta. Here one meets with natives from every part, some arrayed in simple white garments, but others clothed in gorgeous apparel. Their costumes of silk and satin are radiant with a dazzling wealth of colour, every nationality having its distinctive dress, the Bengalese, the Pathan, the Sikh, the Nepaulese, the Tamils, and the Mahrattas, and all walk with that dignified bearing which proclaims them to be members of a princely class. Our wonder increases. How comes it that this multitude of peoples, these descendants of martial races, live together in peace and amity?

The plains of Delhi, which for 2,000 years were the arena of perpetual conflict as nations were made and unmade, proclaim the warlike character of the people, the intensity of their national hatred, and the ferocity of their bloody feuds. They are now held together in peaceful union by legions of British troops—there are but 70,000 British troops in all India—and probably 250,000,000 out of the 300,000,000 people in India have never seen a British soldier.

This great phalanx of nations is held together, is made happy and prosperous, by the just rule which appeals to their imagination and their sense of justice, and which is administered by 900 British civilians, who are for the most part men under 40 years of age. I think this is one of the most remarkable spectacles the world has ever seen. It speaks well for the English public-school system which has trained these men. It speaks also well for honest administration and the influence and power which it exerts, exercising a moral influence greater and more far-reaching than any military rule.

The most interesting study in India is that of the people, among whom there is the greatest difference in physique. We have the lithe, active little coolie of Southern and Central India, the hewer of wood and the drawer of water; the fat, astute, and subtle Bengalee, devoid of moral or physical courage, a born agitator; the stalwart hillmen of the North-West who furnish our Indian army with its best recruits; and the Mahrattas, the descendants of warlike races, who to-day are among the most active traders.

The student of character has a wide and fruitful field for investigation, but there are certain features which stand out prominently—their marvellous patience, their devotion to their religion, which is almost fanatical. Like the Egyptians of old, they live in the contemplation of death, and look upon death as the great consummation. The elaborate and magnificent tombs we see everywhere correspond to the pyramids and monumental buildings of ancient Egypt; while their ruinous condition attest the wisdom of Solomon, that "Vanity of vanity, all is vanity."

The poverty of India is also striking, but it is not so great as it appears. When we talk of a daily wage of twopence it seems almost impossible that life can be supported on any such sum; but in India a penny will buy all the rice the coolie can eat, and his other expenses are very small. Still, it must be considered a poor country.

There is no scenery in India until we reach the hills, which occupy a considerable area in the Madras presidency, and margin the whole of the North-West. Central and Southern India are vast plains. The grandest mountain view in the world is that of the Himalayas, from Darjeeling. Darjeeling stands at an elevation of 7,000 to 8,000 feet, on the foot hills of the Himalayas, about forty miles from "Kinchin Junga," which is the centre of one of the highest ranges. In the foreground are several deep valleys, usually filled with clouds. Looking over these, a further great bank of clouds appears high up in the heavens. On closer examination we begin to see they are not clouds; their opaque, snowy whiteness and their sharp peaks and serrated edges tell us that this is a range of mountains. "Kinchin Junga" stands in the centre, with an altitude of 28,000 feet, but in this mighty mountain group there is no mountain less than 24,000 feet, and not one of these has been scaled by man. On a clear evening, when the setting sun throws its roseate rays over the snows, no view can be more sublime and beautiful. Away on the west they dip down into Nepaul, and on the extreme right the deep indentation marks the pass by which the British troops entered Tibet.

The Himalayas from Darjeeling.
In the Centre, Kinchin Junga, 28,180 feet.

We do not travel to India to see scenery, but Oriental life: the splendours of Agra and Delhi, the pilgrim city of Benares, and the silent, deserted cities of Fatehpur Sikri and Amber, all rich in historical records of the great Mogul kings, who for so many centuries held sway in India. It is only by seeing these places that one can form some idea of the magnificence and splendour which surrounded these monarchs, which has never been surpassed.

Agra—The Taj Mahal.
THE MARBLE TOMB, ERECTED BY THE EMPEROR SHAH JEHAN, IN MEMORY OF HIS WIFE, A.D. 1648.

While we were in India we saw the beginnings of that unrest which has caused so much anxiety and has led to those outrages which the best Indians must deplore. We have in promoting education in India forgotten that there is but a limited opening for mere students, and in the absence of fitting occupation they become agitators. We ought to train the young men for some definite calling as agriculturists, engineers, or mechanics.

We also thought that the Europeans in India hold themselves too much aloof from the educated Indians. Caste prevents any great intimacy, but more might be done to bridge this over.

With small and reasonable concessions to native ambition, but, above all, with that firmness of administration which alone appeals to the Oriental mind, the present feeling of unrest will pass away, and India will continue to pursue that remarkable development and progress which have done so much for the happiness and well-being of her people.