Castes and Tribes of Southern India. Vol. 1 of 7 — Edition Insights
Edition facts
For Castes and Tribes of Southern India. Vol. 1 of 7 — Edition Insights, the stored edition analysis reports 139,468 words, 10 hr 7 min estimated reading time, and 23 detected text sections.
The text analysis averages about 19.6 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.
Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Caste -- India, South,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.
Calculated from edition completeness, EPUB availability, text structure and catalogue metadata. Not a user rating.
How this score is calculated
- Description quality20 pts
- Title & short description10 pts
- Source metadata20 pts
- Text length15 pts
- Chapters / structure15 pts
- EPUB file integrity20 pts
Total of 100 points, scaled to a 2.5-5.0 range. Editions with an empty description or a missing EPUB file are not scored.
Read the Text
CASTES AND TRIBES OF SOUTHERN INDIA
EDGAR THURSTON, C.I.E.,
Superintendent, Madras Government Museum; Correspondant Étranger, Société d'Anthropologie de Paris; Socio Corrispondante, Societa, Romana di Anthropologia.
K. Rangachari, M.A., of the Madras Government Museum.
Government Press, Madras
In 1894, equipped with a set of anthropometric instruments obtained on loan from the Asiatic Society of Bengal, I commenced an investigation of the tribes of the Nilgiri hills, the Todas, Kotas, and Badagas, bringing down on myself the unofficial criticism that "anthropological research at high altitudes is eminently indicated when the thermometer registers 100° in Madras." From this modest beginning have resulted:--(1) investigation of various classes which inhabit the city of Madras; (2) periodical tours to various parts of the Madras Presidency, with a view to the study of the more important tribes and classes; (3) the publication of Bulletins, wherein the results of my work are embodied; (4) the establishment of an anthropological laboratory; (5) a collection of photographs of Native types; (6) a series of lantern slides for lecture purposes; (7) a collection of phonograph records of tribal songs and music.
The scheme for a systematic and detailed ethnographic survey of the whole of India received the formal sanction of the Government of India in 1901. A Superintendent of Ethnography was appointed for each Presidency or Province, to carry out the work of the survey in addition to his other duties. The other duty, in my particular case--the direction of a large local museum--happily made an excellent blend with the survey operations, as the work of collection for the ethnological section went on simultaneously with that of investigation. The survey was financed for a period of five (afterwards extended to eight) years, and an annual allotment of Rs. 5,000 provided for each Presidency and Province. This included Rs. 2,000 for approved notes on monographs, and replies to the stereotyped series of questions. The replies to these questions were not, I am bound to admit, always entirely satisfactory, as they broke down both in accuracy and detail. I may, as an illustration, cite the following description of making fire by friction. "They know how to make fire, i.e., by friction of wood as well as stone, etc. They take a triangular cut of stone, and one flat oblong size flat. They hit one another with the maintenance of cocoanut fibre or copper, then fire sets immediately, and also by rubbing the two barks frequently with each other they make fire."
I gladly place on record my hearty appreciation of the services rendered by Mr. K. Rangachari in the preparation of the present volumes. During my temporary absence in Europe, he was placed in charge of the survey, and he has been throughout invaluable in obtaining information concerning manners and customs, as interpreter and photographer, and in taking phonograph records.
For information relating to the tribes and castes of Cochin and Travancore, I gratefully acknowledge my indebtedness to Messrs. L. K. Anantha Krishna Aiyer and N. Subramani Aiyer, the Superintendents of Ethnography for their respective States. The notes relating to the Cochin State have been independently published at the Ernakulam Press, Cochin.
In the scheme for the Ethnographic Survey, it was laid down that the Superintendents should supplement the information obtained from representative men and by their own enquiries by "researches into the considerable mass of information which lies buried in official reports, in the journals of learned Societies, and in various books." Of this injunction full advantage has been taken, as will be evident from the abundant crop of references in foot-notes.
It is impossible to express my thanks individually to the very large number of correspondents, European and Indian, who have generously assisted me in my work. I may, however, refer to the immense aid which I have received from the District Manuals edited by Mr. (now Sir) H. A. Stuart, I.C.S., and the District Gazetteers, which have been quite recently issued under the editorship of Mr. W. Francis, I.C.S., Mr. F. R. Hemingway, I.C.S., and Mr. F. B. Evans, I.C.S.
My thanks are further due to Mr. C. Hayavadana Rao, to whom I am indebted for much information acquired when he was engaged in the preparation of the District Gazetteers, and for revising the proof sheets.
For some of the photographs of Badagas, Kurumbas, and Todas, I am indebted to Mr. A. T. W. Penn of Ootacamund.
I may add that the anthropometric data are all the result of measurements taken by myself, in order to eliminate the varying error resulting from the employment of a plurality of observers.
The preface to this 1909 volume opens with a specific date—1894—and a wry remark about high-altitude research when the Madras thermometer hits 100°F. Thurston, superintendent of the Madras Government Museum, lists his tools: anthropometric instruments from the Asiatic Society of Bengal, photographs, lantern slides, and phonograph records. He frames the work as an extension of a government-sanctioned ethnographic survey, blending museum collection with field investigation. The reader is thus placed inside a colonial scientific project, where measurement and cataloguing are explicit goals.
From Anthropometry to Field Notes
The preface establishes a method: Thurston began with the Nilgiri tribes—Todas, Kotas, Badagas—then expanded to Madras city classes and periodic tours. He notes that the survey was financed for five years (later eight). This is not a travelogue but a systematic record, with bulletins, a laboratory, and a collection of “Native types.” The opening thus orients the reader to expect data-driven entries, not narrative. The list of illustrations—skulls, boomerangs, nose diagrams, funeral cars—reinforces the taxonomic approach. A first-time reader should note that each caste or tribe entry likely follows a similar pattern: origins, physical traits, customs, and often historical anecdotes drawn from colonial administrators.
The Bēdar or Bōya Entry: A Case Study in Voice
The excerpt on the Bēdar or Bōya shows how Thurston weaves multiple sources. He quotes Buchanan’s 1800 account of “Baydaru or hunters” who served Tippoo Sultan as irregular troops, then the Anantapur Gazetteer on their fighting caste status, and finally Mr. N. E. Q. Mainwaring’s notes on their exclusion from the Indian army. The voice shifts: Buchanan calls them “brave and faithful thieves”; Mainwaring details their use of milk-hedge poison to contaminate wells. Thurston does not reconcile these views but layers them. The reader should watch for this collage technique—colonial reports, district gazetteers, and personal communications—rather than a single authorial judgment. The entry also lists old weapons (swords, daggers, matchlocks) but notes none are “purely Bōya,” suggesting cultural borrowing.
Ritual Details in the Bāvuri Entry
The Bāvuri entry offers a contrasting focus: ritual and naming. Thurston describes a death rite where the son breaks a pot in water, purification with milk, and food offered on twelve leaves. He notes that Bāvuris do not worship higher deities but revere ancestors and village goddesses (Tākurānis). Opprobrious names are common—Ogādu (dirty fellow), Kangāli (wretched fellow), Haddia (sweeper caste). This specificity—twelve leaves, twenty-first day naming—suggests Thurston’s reliance on informants or local observers. The reader should note that entries vary in depth: some emphasize historical military roles, others domestic customs. The absence of a uniform template means each entry must be read on its own terms.
Navigating the Volume’s Structure
Volume I covers castes and tribes from A to B, alphabetically arranged. The preface and list of illustrations hint at a visual component—photographs of types, skulls, and material culture—but the excerpts here are text-only. The reader will encounter entries of uneven length: some, like Bēdar, run several pages; others may be brief. Thurston often includes quotations from earlier writers (Buchanan, Wilks) and contemporary officials (Mainwaring). The tone is descriptive, not analytical; he rarely offers overarching theories. A useful approach is to read the preface first for methodological context, then sample a long entry (like Bōya) to grasp the range of sources, and a short one (like Bāvuri) for ritual detail. The volume is a reference work, best consulted by topic rather than read straight through.
This first volume of seven sets the pattern for the series: a colonial ethnographer’s compilation of measurements, observations, and borrowed accounts. The reader should not expect a unified argument or narrative arc. Instead, treat each entry as a standalone dossier, noting the provenance of each claim. The value lies in the accumulation of detail—names, rites, weapons, and social roles—that later scholars would reinterpret. Approach the text as a primary source for early twentieth-century ethnographic practice, not as a definitive account of the communities it describes.
Thurston’s measured records of Southern India left me with a strange, quiet ache—the way cataloguing people’s lives can make them feel both distant and achingly near. I found that same lingering weight in English Villages — A Closer Reading, where old stones and names feel tenderly held rather than merely observed.
There are no reviews for this eBook.
How will you remember this book?
Save your reaction, strongest insight, and memorable passage.