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Frontispiece.

TIGER-HUNT, REWAH.—Page 394.
INDIA

AND ITS NATIVE PRINCES

Travels in Central India

AND IN THE PRESIDENCIES OF BOMBAY AND BENGAL

By LOUIS ROUSSELET

CAREFULLY REVISED AND EDITED BY LIEUT.-COL. BUCKLE

NEW EDITION

THith Mumerous Flustrations and Waps

LONDON

BICKERS & SON, LEICESTER SQUARE
CO 1832 L
UNIVE shi y
LIBRARY
“te ph

A4s4978

ot uve Biche
PREFACE.

 

 

NDIA, at the present day, is a subject so closely inter-
7| esting to this country, that the title of this work is, in
itself, almost sufficient to introduce it, and ensure its
welcome.

M. Rousselet, the accomplished French author, has done
good service to our own countrymen andwomen. Although
nearly every family sends out a relation or friend to spend some of the best
years of life in that vast region, still it cannot be said that any cousider-
able knowledge of those lands is at all widely diffused. Few European
travellers have sufficient leisure for prolonged investigation ; the oppor-
tunities of official residents are usually greatly curtailed by the pressure
of business, and a great deal of Indian travel is for the most part
performed as quickly as possible at the call of duty. .

The French author has presented to the reader the connected result
of a six years’ study of the architectural monuments, religious beliefs
and symbols dating back to the earliest history, works of art, systems of
civilisation, and progress, in an easy style calculated to fix the attention
of the lightest as well as of the more serious reader. The circumstance
of the traveller’ having but very slight national connection with the
country explored, is of itself an advantage, as-he brings a fresh mind
and independent ideas to bear upon his subject, free from any pre-con-
ceived bias or prejudice. He describes his impressions exactly as he
experienced them, and one cannot wonder that his prevailing sentiment
was one of enthusiastic admiration of what he saw.

The title of the work indicates the chief object of the author. He
was comparatively indifferent to the India of railways, hotels, and tele-
graphs. He was bent on visiting the courts and countries ruled by
native princes, great and small, of all ranks and all creeds, and to see
for himself what are the modes of life and conditions of civilisation

 
viii PREFACE.

among the stately chieftains of native India. With this view he visited
the kingdoms of the principal Mahratta and Mahometan soverelgns—
Scindia, Holkar, the Guicowar, the late Queen of Bhopal, and of the
Nizam, and has graphically recorded his experiences, while some of his
most vivid descriptions are devoted to the romantic history and achieve-
ments of the ancestors of the Rajahs of Central India. He makes his
reader acquainted with the heroic traditions as well as the daily lives of
the representatives of those ancient Rajpoot houses at the present day.

Those who are already familiar with the subjects of this work will
find pleasure in recalling to memory the scenes and objects so well
described, while the reader who has no personal acquaintance with a
country as yet scarcely touched by railways or even metalled roads, may,
by the aid of a multitude of excellent illustrations, accompany the lively
French traveller in imagination on his Indian journey. The engravings
speak for themselves, and will probably give a better idea of what there
is to see in the Native States of India than has ever been given before.
The descriptions of court life and scenes at Baroda will have special
interest at the present time: these will probably, in their reality, never
be seen again.

This work deals with many subjects, many people of totally different
ereeds and habits, as well as with the condition of the country past and
present ; but there is not a word in it that could offend, and it is recom-
mended with confidence to the Indian as well as the English reader.

THE EDITOR.
 

 

CHAPTER I.
BOMBAY.

The Overland Route.—Aden.—Arrival at Bombay.—The Royal Hotel.—The Bombay Archi-
pelago.—The Fort.—The Parsee Bazaar.—Colaba.—The Black Town.—The Jummah
Musjid.—The Bazaars.—The Hospital for Animals,—The City of the Dead.—The Tomb
of Jacquemont.—Malabar Hill_—Walkeshwar.—The Tower of Silence.—Bycullah.—
Mazagon.—The Cobra.—The Flying Fox . : 3 . 5 ;

CHAPTER II.
THE INHABITANTS OF BOMBAY.
The System of Castes.—Hindoo Mythology.—The Brahmins.—The Jains.—A Nautch.—A
Religious Drama.—Feasts.—The Feast of Serpents—Cocoa-nut Day.—The Parsees.—

A Parsee Marriage.—Mussulmans.—The Moharum.—European Life in Bombay.—The
Financial Crisis of 1864-65

CHAPTER III.
EXCURSIONS IN THE BOMBAY HARBOUR.

The End of the Monsoon.—The Island of Karanjah. —Vultures and Carrion Birds, —A
Gigantic Tree.—The Caves of Elephanta . : ‘

CHAPTER IV.
SALSETTE.

Tannah.—The Portuguese.—Toolsii—The Buddhists’ Caves of KenhariiThe Great Temple.
—A supposed Manichean Inscription.—Chaityas,—Age of the Caves.—The Durbar
Cave.— Viharas.—The Peepul.—Natives of Salsette.—The Caves of Monpezir.—Spotted
Deer.—Ruins of an Establishment of Jesuits,— Magatani—Jageysar.—Mahim .

PAGE

19

38

48
x CONTENTS.

CHAPTER V.
THE KONKAN AND THE GHAUTS.

The Land-wind.—The Valley of the Oolas.—Callian : its ancient splendour.—The Temple
of Ambernath.—Sanatoria.—Matheran.—The Jungli-wallahs—Jugglers and Acrobats.
—Khandallah.—The Railway over the Ghauts,—The Caves of Karli Encounter with
a Tiger : : 3 ‘ ‘ ; . 5 ; .

CHAPTER VI.
THE WESTERN DECCAN,

Poonah.—The Palace of the Peishwah.—The Boudhwar Quarter.—The Hill of Parvati.
Loni.—Ahmednuggur.—Aurungabad.—Dowlutabad.—Caves of Ellora and Ajunta

CHAPTER VII.
THE NORTHERN KONKAN.

Bassein, the ancient Portuguese City.—The Railway and the Castes.—Surat.—The Cotton-
fields. —Broach.—The Cornelian Mines of Ratanpore ‘i ;

CHAPTER VIII.
BARODA.

The Town and the Suburbs.—Tatia Sahib.—HarribaktiimThe Great Sowari of the Star of
the South.—The Royal Standard-bearer.—The King’s Elephant.—The Palace.—A Col-
lection of Shoes.—His Highness the Guicowar of Baroda.—Our First Interview.—
History of the Guicowar Family.—The Motibaugh.—Life at a Hindoo Court.—Bhao
Sahib, the Senapatii—A wonderful Collection of Diamonds.—King for an Hour !—A
Great Review.—The Jesters.—Dancing-Girls A

CHAPTER IX.
BARODA—(continued).

The Haghur,—Fight between Elephants, Rhinoceroses, Buffaloes, &c.—The Wrestlers.—The
Nucki-ka-kousti—The Disobliging Astrologers.—A Misadventure.—The Royal Train.
—Antelope Hunting.—Leopards for Hunting Purposes.—“ Pig-sticking.”—The Guico-
war’s Birthday.—Tiger Hunting.—The Plains of Goojerat.—A Night on a Tree.—The
Royal Menagerie F ‘ ‘ c ‘ .

CHAPTER X.
THE KING’S PLEASURES.—THE ENVIRONS OF BARODA,

The Guicowar’s Whims.—A Bulbul Fight.—A College of Holy Men.—A Novel Mode of re-
plenishing the Royal Treasury.—A Plot.—Death of the Assassin.—Capital Punishment
by the Elephant.—The Feast of the Dassara,—Vishnu and the Nautch Girl.—Deca, ita-
tion of a Buffalo.—The Tomb of Allum Sayed.—The Fakir-Kana,—The Bun of

Dubbhoee.—The Feasts of the Diwali.—The Reign of Balii—Th i
baugh.—Our last Interview with the Guicowar 2 ‘ 3 eee

PAGE

58

70

82

88

103

116
CONTENTS. xi

CHAPTER XI.

GOOJERAT.

PAGE

The Valley of the Mhye.—Type of a Pro¥incial Town, Goojerat.—Mechanical Gods.—
Ahmedabad : its Ramparts, Palaces, Mosques, and Tombs.—The Rajpoot Knights.—
Prince Mooti Sing of Joudpore.—Palace and Mosque of Sirkhej—The Tomb of Shah

Allum.—Nilghau Hunting.—A Riot concerning a Peacock.—Organisation of our
Caravan ; : ‘ : é ‘ 5 é ‘ . 126

CHAPTER XIL
THE COUNTRY OF THE BHEELS.
The Caravan.—The Encampment at Rajpoor.—The Dounghér Hills,—A Lake amongst the
Mountains.—The Mook&am.—The Thakour of TintouiitAn Old Baolii—Manners and

Customs of the Bheels—The Man-eating Tiger.—A Perilous Encounter with the Bheels.
—A Chief as Hostage.—A Bad Rajpoot.—Kairwara ‘ é ‘ 5 » 136

CHAPTER XIII
THE COUNTRY OF THE BHEELS—(continued).
The Aravali Mountains and their riches.—Pursad.—Jackals.— We lose our Way.—Oudey-
poor, the Capital of Meywar.—Our Bivouac at the Arena.—We are taken for Spies,

—The Rajpoots.—Legends.—The Rao of Baidlah.—The ee Arch at Tripolia.
—The Town.—Lake ‘Peshola, —The Islands ‘i Z - 149

CHAPTER XIV.
THE COURT OF THE MAHARANA OF OUDEYPOOR.

The Palace.—The Reception at the Durbar.—Festivities at Jugnavas,—Lake Peshola.—
Hunting in the Aravalis . : ‘ : : ; é ‘ - 166

CHAPTER XV.
FESTIVITIES AT OUDEYPOOR.

Ahar.—The Maha Sati.—Festivities of the Holii—The Durbar.—The Khoosh Mahal.—
Fight between a Panther and a Wild Boar.—The Festival of Gouri.—A Bear Hunt . 177

CHAPTER XVI.
MEYWAR.
Hulkaras and Purwanas.—A Word to Travellers,—Difficulty with Brahmins.—Land of

Crocodiles.—Legend of Ontala.—Morwun,—Chittore.—Temples and Palaces.—Heroes,
Heroines, Legends, and Chivalry.—Tower of Victory.—Ameergurh.—Bunera . + 193
xil CONTENTS.

CHAPTER XVII
THE PROVINCE OF AJMERE.

Bunat.—Nusserabad.—Morning in the Aravalis——Ajmere.—The Bazaars.—The Lake.—The
Shrine of Khoja Syud.—The Arai-din-ka-Jhopra.—The Fortress of Teragurh . ;

CHAPTER XVIII.

POSHKUR AND KISHENGURH.

The Sacred Lake of Poshkur.—Prodigality of Rajpoot Princes.—Temple of Brahma.—
Pilgrims and Brahmins.—The Naga Pahar.—The Desert.—Kishengurh.—A Misunder-

standing.—The Mirage.—Salt Hills

CHAPTER XIX.

JEYPORE.

Our Bungalow.—Jey Sing IT. Sowde.—Foundation of Jeypore.+The Palace.—The Observa-
tory.—First Interview with the Maharajah__The Kachwas.—The Mynas.—Hot Winds.
—Tumblers.—A Holy Man suspended by the Feet.—The Fair of Ganesa g

CHAPTER XX.

AMBIR AND LAKE SAMBHER—(page 245).

CHAPTER XXI.
JEYPORE TO ULWUR.

The Bangunga.—Buswa.—Rajgurh.—Palace of Mirrors.—Ulwur

CHAPTER XXII.

ULWUR—(page 265).

CHAPTER XXIII.

FROM ULWUR TO AGRA.

A Royal Camp.—Digh.—The Palace of the Rajah of Bhurtpore.—The Festivities at Digh.
—Secundra F . ‘ é ; ; . :

CHAPTER XXIV.

AGRA.

The Fortress of Akbar.—The Mosque of Pearls—The Taj.—The M.
dowlah.—The Gardens of the Jumna ss : ; ausoleum of Etmad-
CONTENTS.

CHAPTER XXV.
THE IMPERIAL DURBAR AT AGRA.
Importance of the Durbar.—Arrival of the Viceroy of India.—Féte of Scindia at the Taj—

Grand Review.—Ceremony of the Investiture of the Order of the Star of India.—The
Durbar.—A Ball : . ;

CHAPTER XXVI.
THE KINGDOM OF BHURTPORE.
Travelling Waggon.—Bhurtpore.—The Jats.—The Two Sieges.—Captain Fantéme.—Ruins
of the Fortress ; ‘ : : : ‘ ; ‘
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE RUINS OF FUTTEHPORE.
Futtehpore-Sikri—The Ruins,—The Tomb of Selim.—The Emperor Akbar and the Saint.

—The Palace of the Padishah_—_ The Game of Pucheesee.—The Dewani-Khas.—The Old
Guide of Futtehpore : ‘ ‘ ‘ ;

CHAPTER XXVIII
THE STATE OF DHOLEPORE.

Khairagurh.—Dholepore.—The Sacred Lake of Muchkounda,—Durbar of the Rana

CHAPTER XXIX.
GWALIOR,

History of Gwalior.—The Fortress.—Palace of the Pal King.—Jain Temples.—A Buddhist
Temple.—The Ravine of Ourwhai, or the Happy Valley. —The Jains

CHAPTER XXX.
THE COURT OF SCINDIA.

Origin of the Mahratta Power.—The Cossacks of India,—The Slipper-bearer of the Peish-
wah.—Daolut Rao Scindia and the French Officers.—General Perron.—The Possessions
of Scindia.—The Mahratta Camp of Gwalior, its Bazaars and Monuments.—The King
displays his Een —An Interview with the Maharajah.—The Durbar and the

Nautch Girls
CHAPTER XXXI.

STATE OF DUTTIAH.

Bundelcund.—Hurdeo Sing and Boundi—The Slave Boundelas.—Duttiah. —Palace of
Birsing Deo.—The Death of a Camel,— Interview with the Rao Maharajah of Duttiah.
—The Peon —The ee Mountain of eee —The Fakir of the Holy

Flower

xili

PAGE

285

291

296

305

315

325

333
xiv CONTENTS.

CHAPTER XXXII
THE PROVINCE OF JHANSI.
Jhansii_The Ranee and Tantia Topi—The Bear-Keepers.—The Betwa.—Barwa.—The
Aérial Camp.—Birsing Lake and Dyke.—A Night-Watch : : ;
CHAPTER XXXITI.
OORCHA,

Oorcha, the former capital of Bundelcund.—-The Boundélas Kings.—The Palace of Flowers.
—The Citadel and the Palace.—The Temple of Chutter Bhoje-—The Tomb of Pane
Deo.—Preparations for a Féte.—Katchnair.—The Dog and the Policeman

CHAPTER XXXIV.

STATE OF CHUTTERPORE,.

Jagheer of Alipoura——Nowgong.—A Good Samaritan Lady.—Chutterpore—Our First
Salute.—Rajnuggur.—The Royal Camp.—The Holi Fair.—Meeting the Maharajah in
the Fair Field.—The Indian Silenus.—Festivals and Ceremonies.—The Durbar,—
Rajgurh

CHAPTER XXXV.
STATE OF PUNNAH.

The Marwa Ghat.—The King’s Emissaries on the Frontier.—Interview with the Maharajah.
—The Diamond Mines.—The King’s Kitchen Garden.— Hunting Episodes.—A Hunting-
cage.—Rearing of Elephants.—Herd of Sambur.—Excursions to the Fortresses of Adji-
gurh and Kalleenjur ; : ; : : . é

CHAPTER XXXVI.

FROM PUNNAH TO REWAH.

Nagound.—Departure of the Scindian Escort,—A Hunt in the ee ae —The ——
of Dourjunpore.—Rewah . : é :

CHAPTER XXXVIL.
BOGELOUND.

Bogelcund, its Extent, Limits, and History.—Legend of the Baghélas. —Bandougurh.—
Character of the Population. —The Dewan.—Rewah.—Its Petncs or ia —
Cataract of the Tons ; : ‘ F ;

CHAPTER XXXVIII.
GOVINDGURH.

Mukunpore.—The Mhowah and its Properties—The Wolves.—Govindgurh, the Palace and
the Town.—First Hunting-Excursion. —The Houdi and the Tiger.—Visit of the King,
—The Panther.—Battues in the Kairmoors,—The Valley of the Séne-—The

Bundars
or Men-Apes.—The Djangal.—The “ Tofan.”—The King’s Kutchery :

PAGE

342

349

357

366

378

383

388
eae,

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER XXXIX.
THE VALLEY OF THE TONS.

Amarpatan.—Principality of Myhere.—We receiwe the Rais of Myhere in Durbar.—Recep-
tion at the Palace.—The Valley of the Tons.—Goundwana.—The Keep of the Elephants
on the March.—The Bungalow of J eee —The Dacoits and Female Poisoners.—The
Robber and the Iguana ‘ :

CHAPTER XL.
GOUNDWANA.—PROVINCE OF DUMOH AND SAUGOR.

Geographical and Historical Sketch.—The Gounds.—From Joukhay to Burtulla,—Wealth
of the Forests of Goundwana.—The Taloukdar of Koumari.—Bison Hunting.—Dumoh.
—Sir Richard Temple.—The Lake of Puturia.—Saugor.—The > Serpent-Charmers—
Moses’ Rod.—Rahtgurh.—The Brinjarrees

CHAPTER XLI.

THE VALLEY OF BHILSA,

Bhilsa.—Ruins of Gharispore.—How there may be Tépe and Tépe.—Asoka and the Fair
Devi.—The Hill of Oudghiry.—Grotto and Inscription of Sanakanika.—The Varaha
Avatar.— Vishnu and Mahadeva.— The Dwelling-place of a Tiger.—A Terrible
Neighbour . j : : .

CHAPTER XLII.
SANCHI.

The Buddhist Tépes, their Origin and Transformation.—Power and Decline of Buddhism
in India.—The Monastery of Sanchi,—The Great Chaitya.—The Tépe of Kasyapa.—
The Dacoits pillage our Camp.—A Village of Hostages,—Justice in the Jungle

CHAPTER XLIII.
FROM SANCHI TO BHOPAL.

Sagacity of an Elephant.—Piplia-Bijoli—The Tépes of Bhojepore.—Andher.—The Tédpes
of Sonari.—Satdhara.—The Horses of seas —Legend of Shakasiam.—Bhopal.—
The Moti Bungalow : : ; : ; :

CHAPTER XLIV.
BHOPAL,

The Begum Secunder,—The Nawabs of Bhopal—The City, Bazaars, Lakes, and Citadel.—
Jehangheerabad.—A Visit to the Doolan Sircar—Madame Elizabeth de Bourbon.—
The Bourbons of Bhopal.—The Féte of Mohurum.—The Fair of Futtehgurh.—The
Jogees.— Sehore ;

XV

PAGE

400

407

421

430

443

447
xvi CONTENTS.

CHAPTER XLV.
THE COURT OF BHOPAL.
The Monsoon.—Life at Bhopal.—Evenings with the Begum.—Coffee and the Hookah.—

The Cathacks.—The Egg-Dance.—The Man with the Iron Skull.—Interview with
Shah Jehan.—-Death of Oumra Doula.—A Visit of Condolence.—The Tofén

CHAPTER XLVL
THE COURT OF THE BEGUM.
The Bhopal Tal.—The Dykes of Bhoje-——The Ruins of Bhojepore.—The Passage of the
Betwa.—The Great Khillut.—The Féte of the 15th of August at the Princess de Bour-

bon’s.—The Killadar and the Mussulmans.—Last Interview with the Begums.—
Departure .

CHAPTER XLVIL
MALWA,
A Journey in a Caléche.—Passage of the ParbuttiitAn Inhospitable Rajah.—Nursingurh.

—Bioura.—The Great Trunk Road.—Goonah.—SipriiThe Chopaya.—The Dak-
Ghari.—From Charybdis to Scylla.—Gwalior . ; é é ;

CHAPTER XLVIII.
GWALIOR.

The Camp at the Foot of the Fort.—Morar.—The Fooll Bagh.—Durbar of Scindia,—Mar-
Tiage of the King’s Daughter.—A Glance Backwards.—The Dak-Ghari.—Agra .

CHAPTER XLIX.
FROM AGRA TO DELHI.

The Taj.—On the Banks of the Jumna.—Secundra.—The Tomb of Akbar.—Muttra.—The
Legend of Krishna.—The Upper Doab.—Aligurh : ‘

CHAPTER L,

DELHI.

Delhi compared to Rome.— Its Position.—Indrapéchta.—Shah Jehan’s Town.—The Jummah
Musjid.—The Imperial Palace.—The Throne of Peacocks.—The Imperial Baths.—The
Street of Chandni Chowk.—The Cashmere Gate.—The Kala-Musjid.—A Piece of

Advice to Tourists.—Experiences of a Photographer in India. —
The Ulcers of Delhi : j 7 7 Sree oe

PAGE

460

470

- 478

. 487

493

507
CONTENTS.

CHAPTER LI.
THE PLAIN OF DELHI.

The Town and the Palace of Feroze.—Asoka’s® Needle.—The Citadel of the Pourana Kila.
—The Affghan Mosque,—The Tomb of Houmayoun.—An Impertinent Hyzna hunted
in my Bedroom.—Nizam-ood-deen.—Arab-Ka-Serai.—The Mausoleum of Suftur Jung.
—Circles and Gnomons.—A Night in a Tomb,—An Extempore Nautch

CHAPTER LIL
KOUTUB.

Alladeen’s Gate.—The Koutub.—The Great Mosque.—The Galleries of Pirtwi R4j.—Dava’s
Lat.—The Legend of the Serpent.—The Tomb of Altamsh.—Mehrowli.—The Citadel
of Toghluckabad.—A Good Cousin Fi . : ‘ ‘

CHAPTER LIIL
THE PUNJAUB AND THE HIMALAYAS,

Paniput, the Battlefield of India—Kurnoul.—The Plains of the Punjaub.—Thunnesir.—
Umballa.—The Shawl] Manufactories of Loudiana,—The River Beas,—Umritsur, the
Holy City of the Sikhs.—Lahore.—Peshawur.—The North-Western Frontier.—First
View of the Himalayas.—The Jampdn.—The Simla Paharts—A Summer i —
The Ascent of the Himalayas,—Jacko’s Peak.—Meerut,—Agra .

CHAPTER LIV.
THE LAND OF AOODH.

Oude and Aofidh.—Cawnpore.—The Revolt of 1857 and Nana Sahib.—The Bloody
Chamber.—The Cistern and the Monument.—The Ganges.—The Pilgrims.— Lucknow.
—The City.—The Kaiser Bigh.—The Housseinabad Imambara

CHAPTER LV.
FROM CAWNPORE TO BENARES.

The Lower Do&b.—Allahabad._The Cantonments.—The Plain of Prayéga.—The Great
Triveni.—The Pilgrims of the Ganges Water.—The Column of Asoka.—The Palace of
Akbar.—The Subterranean Temple.—A Mussulman School.—An Indigo Factory.—
Harvest and Manufacture of Indigo. — Mirzapore.-—— The Fortress of Chunar.—The
Throne of God.—Mogul Serai.—Benares . j ‘ :

CHAPTER LVI.
BENARES.

Historical Sketch.—An Excursion on the Ganges.—The Wharves.—The Observatory of
Jey Sing.—The Nepaulese Pagoda.—The Ghat of the Funeral Piles—The Mosque of
Aurungzeb,—Interior of the City.—The Golden Temple.—The Well of Truth.—The
Dourga Kound.—The Monkeys’ Paradise.—Brahmins and Beggars.—Preaching in the
Open Air.—The English Town.—Sarnath.—Hiouen Thsang.—The Antelope Wood.—
The Festival of Ganesa. -—Sacred Bayadéres—The Rajah of Benares.—The Palace of
Ramnuggur : . : p ,

b

xvii

PAGE

519

527

536

545

555

563
xviil CONTENTS.

CHAPTER LVII.

BEHAR.

The Bridge of the Séne,—Behar, the Ancient Magadha.—Patna.—Ancient Palibothra.—The
Mineral Waters of Sita-Khound.—The Kurruckpore Hills,—Sultangunge.—The Bud-
dhist Monastery.—The Island of Dévinath.—Bhagulpore.—The Idol of Mandar.—The
Legend of the Shepherd.—The Rajmahal Hills.—Sontals and the Malers.—A Sontal
Village.—Gaya.—The Caves of Behar : . : .

CHAPTER LVIIL
BENGAL.

A Night on the Railroad.—Bengal.—Rajmahal.—The Ruins of Gaur.—Moorshedabad.—
The Bengalese.—The Nawab Nazim.—The Plains of the Delta.—Burdwan.—The
Maharajah.—Pandouah.—Shah Soufi’s Pike.—Chandernagore.—The French Colony.—
The Triveni of Hooghly.—Chinsurah.—Calcutta . : . : ,

CHAPTER LIX.
CALCUTTA.

The Town.—The Bazaars.—The Inhabitants.—The Baboos.z-Young India.—The Brahmo
Somaj.— The Churuk-Pooja.—Kali.— The Strand.—The. Cyclones. — Excursion to
Dacca.—Juggernaut.—The Ganges and the Brahmapoutra.—The Sunderbunds.—Dia-
mond Harbour.—Retrospective Glance

VocaBuLARY OF InDIAN TERMS

PAGE

576

587

596

617
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

 

PAGE
Tiger Hunt, Rewah ; é . Frontispiece
Parsee Hotel-keeper . 4 : 3
The Town-Hall, in the Fort, Heieay : 6
Coolies at the Cotton Market, Bombay . F 8
A Hindoo Temple in the Black Town, Bombay 10
The Village of Walkeshwar . , ‘ wm 33
Hindoo Temple, Walkeshwar ; 14
Hindoo Beggar : 15
Young Hindoo Woman . : : & 22
Parsee Children. : ‘ ; 29
Parsee Lady and her Saaehtes ; j - 30
A Parsee Merchant at Bombay . : 31
Bombay Mussulmans_ . ‘ : . 34
Serpent-charmer 4 ; : 35
Bunder-boat . ; 39
Banyan . : : 42
Entrance of Caves, “Biephanta : é 43
Interior of Great Cave, Elephanta. é 45
The Hill of Kenhari. 50
Inhabitant of the Matheran — Western
Ghauts . s ‘ . 62
Entrance of the Great Cave of Karli : . 64
Bas-relief on the left, under the Gateway of
Karli. ; . 65
Principal Nave and Dageba és Karli 3 . 67
Departure from Poonah . : i 73
Hindoo Temples. ‘ s FS
Thugs in the Prison of dccnieabeed : . 78
Soldiers of the Nizam of Hyderabad. . 80
Bhistis, or Water-carrier F : i . 83
A Buniah of Surat ‘ : : ; . 85
Carriage of Hindoo Lady z » 93
Horsemen of the Guicowar’s Body- giiand » 95
Pavilion in the. Palace of the Guicowar, at
Baroda . é . 97
The Motibaugh, our Residionies in Basods » 99
Bayadére, or Dancing-girl, Baroda , . IO
Rhinoceros Fight at Baroda . : : . 107
The Nucki-ka-koosti, at Baroda ; » 109

Fakir Carrier of Relics at Baroda . 4 SEI.

 

‘Tomb of Alluin Sayed, at Baroda .

“ House of the Fakirs,” at Baroda 5

The Rani-ka-Rauzah, or Tomb of the Queens,
at Ahmedabad :

Kiosk of the Tomb of Gunj Bake, at Sirkhej

The Thakour’s Castle, at Tintoui, in the Bheel
Country . ;

The Chatri, at Tintoui, i in if Bhecl Country

Our Caravan .

Sambhoo Sing, the i ctvanssive of Meywar

Rajpoots : :

Palace in the Talanil of J ugnavas .

The Island of Jugmunder, Oudeypoor

The Maharana and the British Political Agent
at the Hunt

The Maha Sati, at Ahar, near : Gudeiiece

Tomb of Sangram Sing, at Ahar, near Oudey-
poor

A Mausoleum in tid Maha Sati, at ‘Aes,
near Oudeypoor : :

Panther and Wild Boar.

A Rajpoot Tomb on the Dam of the Burdi
Talao .

The Sengar Chaori, in dia Fort of Chittore ;

The Palace of Rana eee in the Fort
of Chittore

The Tower of Victory, in the Fort of Chittore

Bunera

Mosque of the Arai-din- ieee J opis, at nen

Temples on the Lake Poshkur

Temple of Raina, at Poshkur.

Pavilion in the Palace of Jeypore .

The Dewani Khas, in the Palace of Ambir

The Sowie Gate, Palace of Ambir

The Pavilion of the Jess Munder, in the
Palace of Ambir ;

The Golden Kiosk, in the Valley of Ambir s

Hindoo Jeweller

Fresco in the Sheesh Mahal, a aigurh

The Lake at Ulwur : . ;

PAGE
121
123

140

142

148
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160
163

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201

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205
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249

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XX LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGE
The Maharao Rajah of Ulwur 3 . 269
The Gopal Bhowan in the Palace of Digh - 274
Camp at the Gate of the Secundra Gardens . 275

Nautch Girl of Ulwur . ‘ 276
Specimens of Carving on the Gates ot Som-
nath, in the Fort of Agra ‘ 279
Principal Entrance of the Taj Gadean a
Agra. 2 . 282
The Palace of Teach Sal, Bhatipors ‘ 294
The Mosque of the Mausoleum. 299
The Sultan’s Pavilion, Futtehpore- Sikri - 300
The Panch Mahal, Futtehpore-Sikri. 301
Temple at Muchkounda, near Dholepore 309
Bagwan Sing, Maharaj Rana of Dholepore . 311
Jat Nobles. ‘ ‘ - 313
Temple of Adinath . 318
Cavern of the Tirthankars 2 : . 321
Jain Emblems - : - 323
In the Neighbourhood of Sati Ghati ; . 329
Our Gwalior Escort - : 332
The Golden Mountain of Soanuaber 339
Jain Temples at Sounaghur . . - 341
The “Bund” of Lake Barwa-Sagur.. . 346
The Palace of Flowers, Oorcha : » 351
Temple of Chutter Bhoje, Oorcha . - 2 353
Mausoleum of Birsing Deo. : ‘ » 355
From Nowgong to Chutterpore. és . 356
The Temple of Kali, Kajraha é ki . 360
The Indian Silenus ‘ 3 ‘ . 364
A Diamond Mine, Punnah . & - 370
The Rajah of Punnah and his Sie : . 372
The Rajah of Nagound . : 379
Summer Palace of the Maharajah of egal
Govindgurh . é - 390
Courtyard of the Palace of Gavtndeush, - 392
A Djingal . - 397
Dancing-Girls of the Coure of Rewati . 398
Cenotaphs in the Valley of the Tons . - 403
Gounds . é é ‘ - 408
The Taloukdar of Feounintd 4il
The Indian Bison . : é ‘ ‘ » 413
Serpent-Charmers . : z 3 417
Brinjarrees . - 419
The Varaha Avatar at Guipbiey « 426
Temple of Mahadeva, Oudghiry . : - 428
Colonnade of the Great Tépe of Sanchi. » 434
Emblem of Dharma at Sanchi A A : 437
Emblem of Dharma at Juggernaut é 437
East Gate of the Great Tépe of Sanchi . - 438

Ruins of the West Gate of the Great Tépe . 439
Buddhist Funeral Urn from the Tépe of

Sonari . 440
Her Highness the Begin Bacunder » 450
Madame de Bourbon. i . ; 453
Jogees . < ; ‘ é - 456

GENERAL Route Map or InpIA

 

 

Mussulman Woman of Bhopal
Moollahs of Bhopal
The Egg-Dance
The Princess Shah Seba
The Mail-Cart
The Mausoleum of ‘Mieshaectaea Ghioes Gia
lior . é . ‘: c
The Dak-Ghari :
Gate of the Garden of Scenadia
Upper Storey of the Mausoleum of Abkar,
Secundra a ‘ :
Peasants of the Doab
The Mausoleum of Akbar, at Seeirides.,
The Jummah Musjid
The Dewani-khas, Palace of Delhi.
Hindoo Bankers of Delhi
Mausoleum of Houmayoun, Plain of Delhi
Bayadére of Mewat
The Tower of Koutub, Plain of Delhi
Iron Column, Mosque of Koutub .
Mosque of the Emperor Altamsh .
Old Sikh
Bridge of Boats on the Tae
The Salt Mountains of Rawal Pindi
View in the Western Himalayas .
Memorial at Cawnpore .
Pavilion of Lanka, in the Kaiser Bagh, Tine.
now Z 7 : a Oe
Residence, Eckiow 3
The Palace of Claude Martin, Tukey
Mahometan School, Allahabad
Indigo Factory, Allahabad
Window of Man Munder, Benares
Tépe of Dhamek, Sarnath. ‘
Sculpture on the Tépe of Dhamek.
Corn-chandler of Patna.
Idol of Mandar, near Bhawilpaie f
Sontals .
Tiger Hunting with the ‘Blephant .
Railway Travelling in India . ‘
Mosque on the Hooghly, near Calcutta .
European House, Calcutta .
Low-caste Bengalese
Marwari Merchants
Brahmins of Bengal rs
Water-carriers me
Idols in the Temple of J septate,
Car of Juggernaut . i
Diamond Harbour, at the Mouth of aie
Hooghly .
Native of Madras .
Portico of a Pagoda at Pondiaheey
Scene in Pondicherry
Cingalese
Moorish onetiaak Gesion

4

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INDIA AND ITS NATIVE PRINCES

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CHAPTER I.

BOMBAY.

The Overland Route.—Aden.—Arrival at Bombay.—The Royal Hotel.—The Bombay Archipelago,
—The Fort.—The Parsee Bazaar.—Colaba.—The Black Town.—The Jummah Muasjid.—The”
Bazaars.—The Hospital for Animals.—The City of the Dead.—The Tomb of J acquemont.—
Malabar Hill.—Walkeshwar.—The Tower of Silence.—Bycullah.—Mazigon.—The Cubra.—
The Flying Fox.

“N the 20th of June 1864 I embarked at Marseilles on board the
Vectis, an English steamer bound for the East. The voyage
through the Mediterranean was as charming and agreeable as it
usually is at that season of the year. For six days the sky
was blue and cloudless, the sea calm, and scarcely ruffled by a

= gentle breeze, and the nights delightfully fresh. The constant
view of the shores of Corsica, Sardinia, or Sicily, and our putting in for six
hours at the picturesque island of Malta, relieved our passage of the monotony
so commonly incident to a sea voyage. The passage of the isthmus of Suez
took us two days, including the thirty-six hours which we were allowed to spend
at Cairo. I took the opportunity of hastily inspecting the wonders of this.
famous town, and making a short excursion to the Pyramids. On the 28th of
June we embarked, at Suez, in the Malta, a magnificent vessel of 2500 tons.
We found on board all the luxury and comfort necessary to enable us to endure
the fatigues of the passage of the Red Sea. But for four days we had to suffer
grievously from the oppressive and suffocating heat, which is almost perpetual on
that sea. The hot season was at its height; and I really do not know what we
should have done without the ice, of which we had a supply, and which was
liberally dealt out to us. A few charred rocks, hillocks of white sand, and lofty
blue mountains in the-distance, are the only objects of interest that occur on the
voyage. The sea, by way of most marked contrast to the name it bears, is
intensely blue, and disturbed by a slight swell, while immense shoals of flying-fish
glitter on the crests of the waves. Passing Bab-el-Mandeb, we entered the port
of Aden to take in coal. Our stay there was too short to allow me to say

anything of this interesting town; and the little that I did see, on disembarking
A

 
2 INDIA.

for a few minutes, induced me to resolve to make a longer stay on my return.
The appearance of the peninsula on which it is situated is very imposing from
the harbour. Volcanic rocks of sombre hue form a high pyramid, crowned with
fantastic peaks, and shaped in the most extraordinary manner. At the mouth of
the Gulf of Aden, which lies between Africa and Arabia, and the entrance to
which is commanded by the group called the Socotra Islands, we fell in with the
south-west monsoon, blowing with the utmost violence. The sea was raging. For
six days we were kept prisoners in the great saloons of the packet. ‘The waves
swept over the deck, and conspired with torrents of rain to deny us access to it.
Happily we consoled ourselves by the reflection that the wind was in our favour,
and was urging us the more rapidly towards the end of our voyage. The society
on board was agreeable, and our days passed very pleasantly. The piano, various
games, and an attempt at a ball, made us forget the tempest. On the morning of
the 8th of July, the coast of India was signalled; and, in spite of the bad weather,
all the passengers rushed on deck to see the land so greatly longed for. To our
great disappointment, the sky grew darker and darker; the captain made us again
keep the offing; and the vessel increased its distance from the shore. Then
the storm burst forth. For several hours we were fearfully tossed about. The
partitions of the cabins groaned in an ominous manner, and the screw, frequently
lifted quite out of the water, caused the whole frame of the vessel to vibrate. The
proximity of the reefs, which were known to be hard by, rendered our position
unpleasant, but the captain displayed the greatest coolness. In about two hours
the wind abated, and the weather cleared a little. One of the Bombay pilot-boats,
which are always on the look-out in these parts, had perceived us, and had come
out to sea. It overtook us, and guided us to the entrance of the harbour. The
spectacle which this little vessel presented, in the midst of a sea still turbulent,
and beside the imposing bulk of our ship, was truly astonishing. It bounded to
the summit of the waves, or half disappeared between their foaming ridges. On
all sides the waves broke with fury upon the rocks, which were on a level with
the waters, and marked the dangers which our experienced guide enabled us to
avoid. A few more turns of the screw, and the sea became calmer. We passed
a lovely bay, bordered by cocoa-nut trees, amid which appeared the facades of
magnificent houses, and, doubling a long, level promontory, covered with warehouses,
- we entered the harbour of Bombay.

This harbour, one of the finest in the world, presented itself to me, for the
first time, under an exceedingly melancholy aspect. The sky was dull; the rain
poured in torrents ; and the ships and the shore, concealed by the mist, displayed a
scene so little attractive that I postpone a description of it to a moment when more
propitious weather may enable me to appreciate all its beauties. Whatever.
enthusiasm I might have indulged in, on reaching a destination so greatly longed
after, I think it would have been a difficult matter for me then to admire anything.
I left the steamer, and took my place in a boat rowed by half-a-dozen natives, almost
completely naked, who landed me, in a few minutes, on a handsome stone jetty.
I could not perceive either carriage or shelter in the neighbourhood, and I could
only distinguish confusedly the first houses of Bombay in the distance. A coolie
came and offered to carry my box, and to show me to an hotel ; and I followed
him without a word, splashing sadly through pools of mud. We passed a fortified
gate, which was in a broken-down condition, and entered streets narrow, dark, and
THE ROYAL HOTEL, BOMBAY. 3

horribly filthy; in one of which was the Royal Hotel, which had been
recommended to me on board the packet as the best.

This hotel was kept by Parsees, or fire-worshippers, and it appeared to me at
the very first sight but a wretched ing. The dark corridors crossed each other
in every direction; and the bedrooms, separated from each other by partitions
of whitewashed cloth, had no other furniture than a bed surmounted by a mos-
quito curtain, a table, and a chair. However, it was at this time the best of the
kind in Bombay. I found at the table d’héte the greater part of my fellow-
travellers.

I have often heard it said that the first impression of a country is always the
best ; but certainly, if the proverb could have been true in this case, I should
have had nothing better to
do than to return forthwith to
Europe, for I have rarely, in
the whole course of my life,
experienced such a feeling of
sadness and disappointment
as on that day.

After dinner, I was ac-
costed by a personage full
of importance, and carefully
attired, whom I took at first
for some rich gentleman of
the country. He made me
most energetic salaams, and
placed in my hands a bundle
of papers. ‘The first informed
me that I had to deal with
one of the honestest men in
the world, who, after having
faithfully served numerous
masters, and having always
left them on account of ill-
ness, came to-day to solicit
the honour of bemg my
servant. One of my travel-
ling companions explained to
me that these certificates of
honesty are fabricated in the
bazaars for a moderate sum ;
but as one could not dispense
here with a servant, even while living in the hotel, he recommended me to take
this man, who seemed suitable and of good appearance, two qualities which were
very essential. I therefore engaged his services for the sum of: fifteen rupees a
month. Notwithstanding the exorbitant charges at the hotels, attendance is
procured entirely from without, and is never supplied by the hotel-keeper. If
you even wish to dine at the table @héte, you must have with you your own
servant. The custom is carried so far that people always take with them their own

 

PARSEE HOTEL-KEEPER.
4 INDIA.

servants, when they go to dine at the table of a friend; and, in case they forget
this ceremony, they run a risk of getting nothing to eat, seeing that each servant
attends only on his own master.

Next moming I was awoke by hearing some one talking close to me, when
I saw my new servant, Lutchman, opening my luggage, and arranging my things
as if he had attended on me for a long time. He was carrying on an animated
conversation with a stout man, who seemed to be of a cheerful disposition, and
was dressed entirely in white, his head covered with a turban of glazed calico ;
and in him I recognised my Parsee host. I asked him in a melancholy manner
what news there was of the weather; and he replied with great coolness that the
rain had only commenced some days ago, and would undoubtedly last for three
months to come. Seeing that I appeared puzzled, he very respectfully gave me
the following explanation. Nature under the tropics has not distributed the
seasons in the manner which is so familiar to us, but has divided the year into a
dry season and a rainy season. For eight months the sky is clear and cloudless,
and the sun shines without hindrance; but, on the other hand, it rains, at inter-
vals, from the 15th of June to the 15th of October. During this time, the rain
sometimes falls in such torrents that the country is covered with water; the roads
disappear or become impassable; and it is then impossible to travel even short
distances. I was not unaware, when I set out on my travels, that I should
find myself in India during the height of this season; but I had imagined these
accounts to be greatly exaggerated. Those, therefore, who come to these countries
as tourists, ought always to arrange so as to arrive in October, if they do not wish
to have the prospect of a lengthened stay in a town like Bombay. This prospect
appeared to me, for my part, so little pleasant that scarcely had I arrived when I
made every effort to commence forthwith my explorations; and it was only after
being convinced by several persons of the impossibility of procuring in this season
the necessary means of transport, that I entirely abandoned my project.

In spite of the bad weather, I went out immediately to make my calls, taking
for this purpose a palanquin. This vehicle, so often described, consists, at Bom-
bay, of a long wooden box suspended between two long poles. The interior is
supplied with cushions, on which the traveller reclines at full length. On each
side is an opening, which may be closed with a slide, and at the end a small
table, capable of being drawn out, and which bears a lamp. The bearers, to the
number of four or six, place the poles on their shoulders, and easily raise the
whole machine, which they carry at a gentle trot; they move quickly, and
maintain this pace for several hours. The greater part of the letters of which
I was the bearer being addressed to merchants, I found them all at their count-
ing-houses; and I discovered that what I had been led to consider the town of
Bombay was in reality the Fort, which, however, contained only warehouses and
commercial establishments, and the ramparts of which were in course of demoli-
tion ; the European quarters and the Indian town being at a considerable distance
up the island. One of these gentlemen advised me to leave my hotel and instal
myself in the quarter of Mazagon, where I should find more convenient apart-
ments, and should at the same time be able more easily to go about in society.
I followed his advice, and some days after my arrival I had found a comfortable
and picturesque cottage, half hidden by trees, where I proceeded to utilise the
rainy season by spending it in the study of the languages of India.
THE BOMBAY ARCHIPELAGO. 5

On looking at the map, it will be seen that the island of Bombay forms part
of an important group of islands, which, placed in front of the estuary of a river,
appear to form a kind of delta. These, hollowed in figure, and in close proximity
to one another, imprison an arm of thg sea along the mainland, and thus make a
superb bay, of which Bombay commands the entrance.

This situation has always appeared so favourable for commerce that from the
most remote antiquity these islands contained important towns and ports, where
traffic was carried on in the ;
products of Hindostan and the baa
Deccan. The immense sub- assein [uk
terranean chambers found in Nese?
Kenhari and Elephanta, which
rank among the grandest re-
mains of ancient India, prove
to us the importance and the
wealth of these towns. We
can, moreover, recognise, in this
group of islands, the archipelago
of Heptanesia, of which the
geographer Arrian speaks.

The island of Salsette, the
largest of all, was that which
attracted at once the attention
of the Portuguese colonists ;

 

 

 
    
 
  
    

1°

 

  
 

and it was not until a long J rBetcher
time after fortifying Bassein CA A oMBAY
and Tannah that they thought

 

of building the fort of Bombay. eee
Etymologists have wrongly de-
rived this name from the Por-
tuguese Buon Bahia, or “ good
bay,” not knowing that the
tutelar goddess of this island
has been, from remote antiquity,
Bomba, or Mamba Devi, and

 

 

 

 

 

 

ae Tah ene
that she still, in our days, pos- | ipemelaentines) ae
sesses a temple. Bombay fell Soe
into the hands of the English 70°30

 

in 1661, through the marriage
of King Charles II. with the Infanta Catherine of Portugal, who brought it
to him asa dowry. The importance which it possesses at this day was long
disputed by Surat and Goa, and it was only at the end of the last century that
it was able completely to crush its rivals. It cannot be considered a city, in the
full acceptation of the term; it is rather a conglomeration of vast districts, situ-
ated a short distance from each other, on an island which gives them a generic
name. Each of these districts or towns has a different population, and even an
appearance and a nature peculiar to itself.

The Fort, or Kilah, the most ancient part of the colony, is placed on that side
6 INDIA.

of the island which faces the port. Here are the docks, the immense warehouses,
and the celebrated cotton-presses, around which are raised mountains of the
famous fibre, waiting their turn to be transformed into bales and thrown upon
the markets of Europe and China. In the centre of the town, and around an
immense square, are all the great commercial houses, the banks, the Town-Hall,
and the Mint. The Fort comprises, in one word, all that represents the enormous
wealth that Bombay owes to its exceptional position. It is essentially an indus-
trial town, but neither European nor native lives there. Go to the Fort at seven
o’clock in the morning, and traverse those long, dark, narrow streets, and you will
find them almost deserted, except by the policemen on duty. But about ten
o'clock the scene undergoes a rapid change. At the extremity of the vast
esplanade that surrounds it on three sides, appears an army of carriages, con-
veying masters, employés, merchants, and purchasers. All direct their course
to the Fort ; the streets fill, and in a few minutes the silence gives place to the
noise and tumult of a great, busy town. At four o’clock a fresh change is seen.

 

THE TOWN-HALL, IN THE FORT, BOMBAY.

The population abandons the Fort with more precipitation than they used in
entering it; the carriages are filled ; horsemen ride away ; and files of natives,
armed with umbrellas, and clad in white, pass along the esplanade. Half an hour
later the streets are again given up to the rats and the policemen.

One of the most interesting parts of this town is the Parsees’ Bazaar, an
extensive district which has a resident population, and lies between the Bombay
Green and Fort George, to the north of the Kilah. This quarter is almost entirely
inhabited by Parsees and Bhorahs, two eminently mercantile races, of whom I
will speak hereafter, and who, with their commercial instincts, have preferred to
sacrifice the pleasures and comforts of other parts of the island to the advantage
of residing at the place of their business. This bazaar, a lone and winding street,
is composed of lofty and beautiful Indian houses, with large wooden elleoniee,
painted in lively colours, and numerous windows with carved Rntets, The eesti:

floors are occupied by gloomy stalls, in which commercial business is transacted
to a large extent.
COLABA. 7

To the south of the Fort extends the long and narrow promontory of Colaba,
the extreme point of the island, separating the port from the Back Bay, a species
of false bay formed by the hollowing of the coast. The enterprising spirit of the
Bombay people was dwelling at that, time on nothing less than the reclamation
of this large tract from the sea, in order to construct there a town which could
be developed more easily than upon the narrow shores and rocks previously
occupied. For this purpose a gigantic embankment, nearly two miles and a
half in length, was to connect the point of Colaba with that of the opposite
promontory, the space enclosed within these works being filled up by the débris
of a neighbouring hill. With this object a company had been formed under the
name of “The Back Bay Reclamation Company,” and the works were on the
point of being commenced at the time of my arrival. I will mention later on
what was the issue of this great project. Colaba is occupied as one of the
European quarters, and is intersected by beautiful roads, alongside of which
pretty gardens are laid out, surrounding the bungalows or houses of the rich
merchants. Placed between two bays, it possesses one of the healthiest climates
in the island. The name “bungalow” is generally given throughout India to
the houses of Europeans, which are constructed in a style suited to a tropical
climate. The rooms, built on a raised terrace of brickwork, are dry, and free
from the evil influence of deleterious miasmata produced by the abundant
vegetation ; the roof, of very thick thatch, ensures coolness, and large verandahs
on all sides protect the walls from the heat of the sun. In spite of its great
advantages, the bungalow has so provisional an appearance that very many people
prefer large and handsome houses of stone in the European style. On the
extreme point of the promontory are placed the Barracks of the English army ;
buildings so carefully adapted to the exigencies of the climate, and to the welfare
of the troops, that they merit examination by every one who takes an interest in
this important question. There also is the lighthouse, which commands the
entrance of the port.

Returning to the Fort, we have to traverse, throughout its entire length, the
Maidan or Esplanade, in order to reach the Indian town, called by the Europeans
Black Town. On entering its huge bazaars for the first time, one is immediately
deafened by the din that prevails, and half suffocated by the smells that impregnate
the atmosphere. A heavy perfume of “ghee” and grease, which is exhaled from
numerous shops belonging to the poorer class of confectioners, turns the stomachs
of all who, for the first time, experience it. In spite of this source of discomfort,
the visitor cannot help admiring those famous bazaars. A world of peoples and
races, of perfectly distinct types and costumes, are crowded together in the streets
of this capital, which supplies the products of Europe to two-thirds of India. It
is the port of arrival for all who come from Persia, from Arabia, from Affehanistan,
and the coast of Africa; and from it the pilgrims from Hindostan, bound to Mecca,
Karbala, or Nujiff, take their departure. Beside the indigenous races which still
present such varieties, we see the Persian, with his high cap of Astrakan ; the Arab,
in his Biblical costume; the Tomali negro, with fine intelligent features; the
Chinese, the Burmese, and the Malay. This diversity gives to the crowd a
peculiar stamp, which no other town in the world can present. The corpulent
Buniahs of Kutch or Goojerat, with their pyramids of muslin on their heads, raise
their voices in rivalry with the natives of Cabul or Scinde; the Hindoo fakir,
8 INDIA.

naked and hideously painted, elbows the Portuguese priest in his sable robe. The
Tower of Babel could not have assembled at its foundation a more complete
collection of the human race. Palanquins, native carriages, surmounted by domes

 

COOLIES AT THE COTTON MARKET, BOMBAY.

of red cloth, beneath which dusky beauties conceal themselves, pass by, drawn by
beautiful oxen from Surat, as well as handsome open carriages from [aris or
London. The street is bordered by small booths, the flooring of which, raised
BLACK TOWN, BOMBAY. 9

several feet above the roadway, serves for counter and stall; the most diverse
branches of industry are there displayed side by side: but those which call for
particular notice are the stores of manufactures in sandal-wood, ebony, furniture,
and works of art in copper. Every gone knows those charming little boxes
of sandal-wood, covered with delicate and spirited carvings, or inlaid work
arranged in brilliant facets. In the dark and small shops, along the grea.
bazaar, numberless half-naked artisans execute these little masterpieces. The
workroom is of the most primitive description. Squatting on the ground, each
artificer holds with his bare feet a plank of the odorous wood, which he carves
with a small graving tool. As to the furniture, it is covered with such delicate
arabesque, such grotesque monsters, or such graceful foliage, that, notwithstanding
their stiffness of shape, it is difficult to resist the temptation of making a purchase.
The houses which skirt the bazaars are generally laid out in several storeys, and
constructed of wood and bricks. Their fronts, adorned with verandahs, the pillars
of which are delicately carved and painted in lively colours, afford a peculiarity
of appearance altogether unknown in exclusively Mussulman countries. All the
streets that traverse this immense town are very large; the Bhendi Bazaar,
amongst others, is one of the finest. Here are the famous Arab stables, from
which come all the magnificent and costly lorses used in the island, and which,
for the sportsman, form one of the most interesting places of resort. Here are to be
found the finest kinds of horses in the East. Most of them come from the provinces
bordering on the Persian Gulf, that of Kattywar and that of Cabul; but the most
excellent are those of Djowfet and Nedjed, of the purest Arab race. Unfortunately
their value is considerable, the prices ranging from £120 to £240 or £250 for
those of the best class, and from £40 downwards for the inferior sort.

These stables attract the attention of all the horse-riding people of this part of
the world, and the coffee-houses facing them present therefore a very singular
appearance. All day long we may see there Arabs, negroes, Bedouins, squatting
on couches of rope drawn up alongside the shops, and quaffing aromatic drinks, or
smoking the long hubble-bubble ; the Persians, in their long caps, assemble in the
shops devoted to meethace, where they consume enormous balls, composed of flour,
sugar, and milk; and at the corners of streets the natives of Cabul, in their long
and disgustingly dirty linen smocks and blue turbans, regale themselves frugally
on dried dates. Continuing our excursion across the Black Town, we reach the
China Bazaar, which is always encumbered by a dense crowd. It extends along
that part of the port reserved for native vessels. The quays are covered with all
the rich products of Asia— buffalo-horns, tortoise-shells, elephant-tusks, bags of
spices, coffee, pepper, &c. Coolies of great strength pass through the crowd,
bearing on each end of long bamboos bales of merchandise ; and Parsees take note
of the arrivals, or discuss prices. Everything, in fact, presents this mixture of
types, which is universal at Bombay, and always surprising to strangers.

At a little distance from this bazaar is the Jummah Musjid, or great cathedral
mosque. From the outside it is by no means a noteworthy building, although neat
and regular in its construction; but the interior, with its long arcades and
numerous columns, cannot but astonish the newly arrived traveller. I visited the
mosque one Friday, at the time of the reading of the Koran. The doorkeeper
stopped me, and requested me to take off my shoes. This formality complied with,
I entered the great hall, and, placing myself against one of the pillars, I remained
10 INDIA.

An old Moollah, with a white beard,
of the Mahometan scriptures ;
turned towards the preacher,

some time watching the religious service.
standing on a marble platform, expounded a passage
the faithful, squatting on their heels, their faces

 

 

A HINDOO TEMPLE IN THE BLACK TOWN, BOMBAY.

listened with eagerness. The discourse finished, the Moollah came out from
amongst the rows of kneeling worshippers, and pronounced the invocation.
There are numerous Hindoo temples in this city, but only the small ones are
HOSPITAL FOR ANIMALS. 11

accessible. Two of the largest are at Paidoneh; their fronts only differing from
those of the neighbouring houses by a greater supply of red and green paint on the
walls and verandahs. But a spot which no one should neglect to visit at Bombay
is the Jain hospital for animals, the largest and finest in India. The Jains, who, .
more than any other sect, profess for animal life an unbounded regard, believe that
not only should man do no harm to creatures of all kinds, but that he is bound to
protect their lives and alleviate their ills. Influenced by this idea, the pious Jain,
who meets on the road a wounded animal, stops to take care of it, or receives it
into his house.. In order to promote the general charity, the rich members of this
sect have established hospitals where all sick or deformed animals are received,
taken care of until they are cured, or kept alive in case of permanent infirmities.

This hospital is situated in the centre of the most densely peopled quarter of
the Black Town, and all visitors are freely allowed to enter it. You go, in the
first place, into a large court, surrounded by sheds, in the midst of which are kept
a number of oxen. ‘There is nothing more curious than this assembly of sick
quadrupeds. Some have bandages over their eyes; others, lame or in a helpless
condition, are comfortably stretched on clean straw. Their attendants rub them
down, and bring the blind and paralysed their food. From this court we pass into
another, of less extent, containing dogs and cats in the same pitiable condition.
This is so utterly repugnant to one’s feelings to behold, that I ventured to tell my
guide it would be a greater charity to put an immediate end to their sufferings ;
to which he replied by asking whether we treated our invalids in that way. A
little farther on is an enclosure reserved for bipeds. Aged crows spend their lives
peaceably in this paradise of the brute creation, in company with bald vultures
and buzzards that have lost their plumage. At the other end of the court, a
heron, proud of his wooden leg, strutted about in the midst of blind ducks and
lame fowls.

All the domestic animals, and all those that dwell in the vicinity of mankind,
have here their representatives. Rats are seen here in great numbers, and display
remarkable tameness ; mice, sparrows, peacocks, and jackals have their asylum in
this Jain hospital.

However ridiculous this institution may seem, it is nevertheless an example of
the kindness and humanity of these people, whose charity would not allow any
being, created by the Almighty, to suffer; and we can forgive what appears to us
an absurdity, to those men who can boast that they have covered India with their
dharamsdlas for poor travellers, and have enriched the hospitals by their princely
donations. The Jain sect is not, however, the only one that has contributed to
these works of beneficence; it is the whole caste of merchants, of whom a certain
portion still follows the religion of Vishnu.

In order to complete the round of the objects of interest in the Black Town, it
only remains to visit the district of Girgaum, the Bréda Street of Bombay; and
the Cities of the Dead, which are in the neighbourhood. Girgaum is a vast wood
of cocoa-nut trees, which extends from the bazaars to Chowpatti, at the head of
Back Bay. In the midst of this picturesque forest are innumerable huts, half
concealed by a rich tropical vegetation, in which reside bayadéres of every nation,
and of all colours,—the demi-monde of this immense capital. As the night
draws on, the depths of the wood become lighted up; on all sides resound the
tom-tom, the guitar, and the voice of song; and the illumined windows are
INDIA.

12

filled with women in dazzling costumes. One would say that a great fete
was in preparation. The uninitiated stranger stops, hesitates, asks himself
whether it is for him that these garlands of flowers have been suspended, these
coloured lamps hung out. But soon it would seem as if all the nations in the
world had arranged a meeting in this wood of Cythera. The refreshment-rooms in
the taverns are thronged by Europeans, Malays, Arabs, and Chinese. Far into the
night will the songs resound, and the lamps shed their light; then, when the
morning is come, all will return to gloom, and the worthy English merchant,
driving past in his shigram, or office carriage, may wonder who can be the
inhabitants of this sombre grove.

But behind this screen of palms what a change of scene may be witnessed!
It is there, on the damp seashore, that past generations are reposing— the
Mussulman, under his stone beside the poor European, who, blighted in his hopes,
has never been permitted again to see his native land.

Numerous are the tombs of our countrymen, who sleep beneath the shade of
these palm-trees, their names effaced by the parasitic plants, just as is all
remembrance of them in the land to which they have been conveyed. Death
comes so quickly in India that every one thinks only of himself, and forgets those
who are nomore. The crosses are thrown down, the stones broken; such is the
aspect of these scenes of desolation, over which the rich and charitable nature of
the tropics has been kind enough to throw a mantle of flowers. Nothing can be
more beautiful than this immense and silent City of the Dead; the foaming waves
contest with them their tombs, and every year gives up some of them to be
engulfed in the deep.

During the searches I made to discover the tomb of poor Jacquemont, I used
to contemplate this sheet of water and its extensive westward horizon—that
quarter to which every European in this country turns when he thinks of home.
Assuredly, if the dead rise from their graves, as legends aver, they have a spectacle
as sublime and as melancholy as they can desire. The spot where our brave
fellow-countryman Jacquemont reposes is marked by a simple stone, on which
may with some difficulty be read his name. The martyr of science, he has come
to the end of his travels on the shores of this ocean, which separated him from,
the land of his birth.

Not far from the Mussulman cemetery is situated the field where the bodies
of the Hindoos are burnt to ashes. From a considerable distance the processions,
bearing corpses placed on open litters, and directing their course to this point,
sufficiently indicate the route you should follow to reach it. Death has no
terrors for the Hindoo, since for him it is only a change of existence. The
enclosure in which the funeral piles are erected is situated on the summit of a
lofty terrace of granite, of which the base is accessible only at low water. The
fires form several ranks in line: on one side are placed the corpses which are
waiting their turn; on the other an honest dealer in wood is selling the necessary
combustibles. Do not expect, however, to find there the slightest symptoms of
meditation. Some are cutting the wood or arranging the pile; others, sitting on
the summit of the walls, play on their instruments a dismal strain. The pile
being prepared, the relatives place the corpse upon it, and cover it with small
pieces of wood till it is entirely concealed. Then the eldest son, or the nearest
relation of the deceased, approaches, beating his breast, and raising lamentable
MALABAR GILL. 13

eries. Seizing a torch, he sets fire to the four corners of the pile; the flame rises
rapidly, and the attendants augment it by throwing on oil. Soon the body
appears a burning mass. When all is reduced to ashes, they water the place,
and throw some of the calcined remains into the sea.

But for the presence of the corpse which crowns this mortuary trophy, the
ceremony itself presents nothing repulsive, provided always that one keeps out of
reach of the noisome smoke.

Going along this beach towards Chowpatti, we soon reach Malabar Hill, the
aristocratic quarter of Bombay. It is a promontory larger than that of Colaba,
and has, moreover, the advantage of being very hilly. The immense bungalows
of the rich merchants and the high Government officials are ranged, with their

 

THE VILLAGE OF WALKESHWAR.

gardens and terraces, along the side of the hill. In certain places, enormous
overhanging blocks of granite command the road, and appear ready to roll down
upon the passer-by. Clumps of cocoa and date, palms, aloes, and daturas, with
" their long violaceous bells, give to this part of the island a rich and original
aspect, considerably enhanced by the proximity of the sea. Some of the houses
display a richness and sumptuousness truly Asiatic. Columns support the
verandahs and porticos, and large flights of steps, bordered by china vases, lead
to terraces on which are collected works of art both of Europe and Asia—statues,
cups, fountains, &c. The gardens contain some of the best-cultivated trees of
the country ;—the Gold Mobur Acacia, with its clusters of golden flowers ; the
papayer, with its enormous fruit; the gigantic baobab, and the Chinese pine; at
the feet of which are masses of brilliantly variegated flowers, the names of which
have escaped my recollection.
14 INDIA.

Following the road which goes along the hill, we reach the Governor’s house,
which, situated at the: summit of a steep declivity at the extreme point of the
island, commands a full view of the sea. This residence is now almost abandoned
in favour of the beautiful palace of Parel; nevertheless, it has the reputation of
being in the healthiest part of the island, and the governors go to reside there
during the fever season. At a little distance thence, on the western coast of the
promontory, is the small village of Walkeshwar, one of the most sacred places
in India. According to the legend, the god Rama, marching to the conquest of
Lunka, the modern Cey-
lon, in order to punish the
King Ravana, who (a se-
cond Paris) had carried off
his wife Sita, stopped at
this place to pass the night.
His brother Lutchman,
through the instrumental-
ity of a genie, used to send
him every night an emblem
from Benares, so that he
could continue the exer-
cise of his devotions to
Siva. But, that evening,
the emblem delaying to
make its appearance, Rama
impatiently took a little
sand from the seashore,
and with it fashioned an
idol. The spot from which
the sand was taken became
a deep pool, which is in
existence at this day ; and
the village which grew up.
around the divine idol
took the name of Walke-
shwar—that is to say,
“ The God of Sands.” Pass-
ing through the narrow
streets, lined with tall,

HINDOO TEMPLE, WALKESHWAR. gloomy houses, inhabited

by Brahmins, I arrived

at the pool of Rama. It is situate in the centre of a vast square, entirely
surrounded by temples. Large flights of steps lead down to the water's edge,
which is some forty yards below the level. An immense throng of Hindoos,
male and female, in clothes of various colours, pressed round the brink of this
silent pool: some plunged into, or besprinkled themselves with, the sacred liquid ;
others, kneeling on the steps, remained in a state of blessed contemplation; all
were praying with the utmost fervour. In the vicinity of the temples the spec-
tacle is still more animated. The Brahmins beg of the passers-by, on behalf of

 

eats
15

WALKESHWAR,

the fakirs and

their idol, and hold out purses to receive their offerings :

goossains, with one arm raised aloft, stiff and withered, shake the necklaces
of bones with which they are adorned, and regard disdainfully the alms that

 

HINDOO BEGGAR,

Vallabayatcharas in effeminate costumes and

Troops of religious
of insolent aspect, disciples of Krishna under his most shameful form, pass

are given.

through the crowd. Notwithstanding all the exertions of the English govern-
16 INDIA.

ment, this hateful sect, though under the ban of numerous Orders in Council,
is still powerful in the sanctuary of Walkeshwar, where the arm of the law
cannot reach it without difficulty. Every year discloses some revolting crime
committed by these priests, whose sole religion is the most shameless debauchery.
Some of the buildings that surround the place are of great antiquity, and not
wanting in beauty. The columns are covered with graceful sculptures, and the
lofty spires on the towers are divided into storeys and into small bell-towers,
decked with statues of divinities and monsters. But they are all too small to
give the visitor the slightest idea of the splendour of the religious monuments
of India; they derive nearly the whole of their effect from the rich banners,
hangings, and golden ornaments with which they are decorated.

Leaving Walkeshwar, the traveller finds himself on a beautiful line of road,
which passes along the crest of Malabar Hill At its highest point stands the
Great Dokhma of the Parsees, otherwise called the ower of Silence. Here the
votaries of Zoroaster deposit their dead to be devoured by the vultures. Hidden
by a screen of huge trees, the tower rises cold and silent; no one is permitted to
approach too near, and it is only through the branches that its summit can be
seen, crowned with innumerable birds of prey. Even among the Parsees the
utmost mystery prevails as to the interior of the Dokhma: the dustours, or Priests
of the Fire, alone enter it. The relatives of the deceased leave the body at the
door ; it is taken within the tower, and placed between two grates, which allow
the vultures to tear off the flesh, but not to carry away the limbs. Even that
precaution is not always taken in minor towers up the country. Scarcely have
the priests withdrawn when the whole troop, which has been hovering in a circle
above the tower, swoops down into the interior, to banquet on the repast prepared
for it. The ancient Persians also followed this same barbarous custom of disposing
of their dead, since we read in many authors that they exposed the bodies on the
lofty summits of the mountains, that they might be devoured by the birds of the
air; and, despite the advanced stage of civilisation at which the Parsees have
arrived in our days, they still adhere to the ancient custom.

From the grove surrounding the Tower of Silence the most extensive and
beautiful view of any to be found in the island may be obtained : on one side, the.
craggy peaks of Malabar Hill; on the other, a forest of palms, descending with
pleasing undulations to the bay; and, in the distance, the Indian town and the
Fort standing out from the blue horizon of the Gulf of Oman. If the day is fine
and the sky clear, the whole of that scene is resplendent with light; the shadows
cast by the trees appear impenetrable ; and the air is laden with sweet perfumes.

If you descend the hill towards the north, you enter another great quarter
of Bombay, called Bycullah, which extends over a vast marshy plain, formerly
covered by the sea. This position renders it very unhealthy, and it is chiefly
inhabited by Parsees, half-castes, and minor European employés. Here is also the
Duncan Road, the haunt of every one of bad repute in the island—thieves, sailors
who have deserted their ships, &c., and with the necessary accompaniments of low
taverns and pestilent hovels.

Behind Bycullah rise the hills of Mazagon, around which another populous city
has arisen. The climate is very unwholesome. The atmosphere of this district,
often fatal to new arrivals, is poisoned by the exhalations from the rank vegetation.
No part of the island is so fertile as this. The mango-trees attain an enormous
eo

MAZAGON. 17

height, and their fruit is of superior quality. The mango, called in India “amb,”
is a fruit of an oblong shape, about three or four inches long, containing, under a
thick greenish skin, a pulp of a golden yellow, of a most exquisite aromatic flavour,
and having in the centre a large stone, When this fruit is in perfection, it is
wholesome and agreeable ; otherwise it has a decided scent of turpentine. The
Alphonse mangos of Mazagon are very costly, and there is considerable traffic in
them ; unfortunately it is too delicate a fruit for transmission to Europe. The
hill-sides are, moreover, covered with dense thickets of palm-trees, néms, and
acacias, all bound together by a network of slender and delicate creepers, that
make them one compact mass. A gigantic group of magnificent banyan-trees
forms on one of them an immense dome of foliage. Beneath these thick shades
are blended together a thousand species of cactus, deidaturas, euphorbias, and tall
grass, which harbour nearly every kind of serpent peculiar to these regions. The
environs also are infested with them; and, having myself lived some time in this
part of the island, I had an opportunity of seeing them, and of killing a great
number. Only a few days after my arrival I had my first interview with a cobra
di capella, called also ndg, or the spectacled serpent.. Every one knows this
terrible reptile at least by name, and is aware that its bite is so venomous that
death ensues from it in less than a quarter of an hour. I was walking one
evening in the garden that surrounded my charming little hut, when in stepping
I felt something wriggling under my foot, and, before I could draw back, I saw a
cobra threatening my leg. I sprang on one side, and the snake disappeared in the
grass. The terrible danger from which I had so providential an escape made me
cautious, and I ordered all the long grass round about to be mown down. The
mowers killed a superb black cobra. It was of moderate bulk, and measured
about four feet long. I could now inspect at my ease the excrescence of skin
which lies on the sides of these reptiles’ necks, and which, when they are angry,
they are able to extend in the form of an ellipse-shaped hood. On this hood are
clearly designed the spectacles that give one of its names to the creature. During
my stay at Mazagon there occurred a terrible example of the danger from much
smaller snakes. A Mussulman servant in the house of a European was engaged
in waiting at breakfast, and therefore had frequently to pass along the verandah.
On placing his bare foot on a mat that lay in his path, he felt himself pricked,
uttered a slight cry, and, walking on, fell down by his master’s table ; after a few
convulsions, he expired. The most astonishing thing is that these accidents are so
rare, notwithstanding that the natives habitually go barefoot.

One piece of advice I can give to persons about to visit Bombay, and who
dread serpents, is not to choose Mazagon as their place of abode. No precaution
is of avail to keep these reptiles out of the house, and you cannot go out of doors
without running the risk of setting foot on one of them. The vegetation also
attracts a great number of insects, and at nightfall there arises on every side a
noisy concert from a thousand little crickets, grasshoppers, and other insects, that
to unaccustomed ears gives the effect of a piercing and continuous cry. Add to
this the frequent assemblages of jackals near your house, striking up their
melancholy strains, to which all the pariah dogs in the neighbourhood think
themselves bound to respond; and you will have some idea of the sublime
tranquillity of the night in this favoured town. I recommend it, however, to the
enthusiastic naturalist, for, besides the mosquitoes, which here are of remarkable

d
18 INDIA.

size, he will have the pleasure of the company or vicinity of the bandy-coot: rat,
which is of a monstrous size; the musk-rat, an inoffensive animal, but not
agreeable to nervous people, on account of its smell and its sharp cries; the
enormous bull-frog, whose voice justifies the name it bears; and also the Indian
vampire, called here the flying fox. The latter is one of the most singular animals
in the country. It is an immense bat with black wings, spreading more than two
feet ; its body is covered with a thick, reddish fur; and its head, with pointed
muzzle and sharp teeth, is altogether the miniature of that of a fox. At night it
is seen flying in thousands about the fruit-trees, raising shrill cries; and it is
no rare occurrence for them to lay waste an orchard in one single night. During
the day they remain suspended from the highest branches, holding on by their
hind claws, their heads hanging down and their wings folded, which gives them
the appearance of enormous black fruit. In reality they are not dangerous towards
anything but fruit. However, many people have assured me that there is in India
a small bat which lies, during the night, on sleeping men or animals, and feasts on
their blood; but it is of so insignificant a size that the wound it gives is scarcely
perceptible and by no means dangerous. ‘

The town of Mazagon is largely inhabited by Portuguese, descendants of the
old colonists, whose complexions, darker than those of natives of the upper class,
show how this race is mixed and degenerated. They have, moreover, adopted an
entirely Indian mode of life; and their religious ceremonies, though Christian,
reflect to such a degree the ideas of the country, that they would form a subject
for much curious inquiry. Their priests are all black, and are under the jurisdic-
tion of the Archbishop of Goa, who indulged for some time the ambitious design
of entirely separating his church from that of Rome. Even at the present day
they maintain a semi-independence in religion, which the Romish clergy have
vainly endeavoured to combat.

On Sunday the streets are filled with women in large white mantles, going
with their children to church. The men, decently dressed, but in a somewhat
ridiculous style, carry their wives’ prayer-books or umbrellas with that air of
importance which all the half-castes affect, even in the slightest things. They
have all adopted as their national head-dress the black silk hat of modern
society, and even the poorest are proud to wear a napless head-covering, of |
which sometimes the brim has vanished. However absurd may be their
appearance and manners, these men, nevertheless, are in general laborious,
sober, peaceable, and honest—qualities which are rather the exception than
the rule among the semi-European races of Asia.

At the farthest end of Mazagon there is a superb palace, erected by the
great Parsee baronet, Sir Jamsetjee J ejeebhoy, one of the richest merchants in
Bombay. It is a vast building in the Gothic style, which Sir Jamsetjee left at
his death to be turned into a hospital. This princely gift gained him the honour
of a statue, which is placed in front of his palace. 3

All these separate districts, constituting the city of Bombay, contain a total
population of more than eight hundred thousand inhabitants, of which only six
or seven thousand are Europeans.
CHAPTER II.

THE INHABITANTS OF BOMBAY.

The System of Castes.—Hindoo Mythology.—The Brahmins,—The Jains—A Nautch.—A
Religious Drama.—Feasts.—The Feast of Serpents.—Cocoa-nut Day.—The Parsees,—A
Parsee Marriage.—Mussulmans.—The Moharum.—European Life in Bombay.—The Finan-
cial Crisis of 1864-5.

HE study of the various races that people the island of Bombay
would constrain us to trace the history of all the Asiatic nations ;
for from China to Arabia, and from Turkestan to the Malay
Islands, it would be difficult to find a nation that has not its
representatives in this superb metropolis, which boldly takes its
stand as the Queen of Asia. I will therefore content myself

with speaking of the more important, that is to say, the Hindoo tribes—the

Brahmins, Purvus, Khayets, Buniahs, Parsees, and Mussulmans.

The mass of the population here, as throughout the whole of India, is com-
posed of Hindoos, a generic term under which are comprehended the members of
all the sects, howsoever opposed, that have adopted the system of castes, and
acknowledge the supremacy of the Brahmins. It is well known that the principal
sects are the Saivas, or adorers of Siva; the Vaishnavas, or adorers of Vishnu,
under different incarnations; and, lastly, the Jains, predecessors or successors of
the Buddhists, who consider the Hindoo Pantheon as only of secondary import-
ance. These sects are subdivided into four distinct castes;—the Brahmins, or
priests ; the Kshatriyas, or warriors; the Vaishyas, merchants and agriculturists ;
and the Sudras, the class of artisans and labourers. To add to the confusion
which this complicated system of sects and castes creates, these last are again
subdivided into tribes and trade corporations; and moreover there exists an
important part of the population which, though completely recognised as Hindoo
and native, is placed beyond the pale of this organisation.

Each of these societies has an independent and individual life, its own
administration, its own laws; none of its members can marry into an alien
caste, nor even eat in the company of the members of a society of inferior rank.
The most trifling affairs of daily life are fenced about with ceremonies and pre-
scriptions tending to rivet the bonds of this social isolation. The man born in a
corporation of a particular business cannot choose any other career, without
being struck down by the social law in everything that he holds most dear. His
wife may desert him ; his children do not acknowledge him as their father ; and
his property remains with the caste. If, repenting, he wishes to rejoin the

 
20 INDIA.

brethren whom he has left, he is obliged to undergo all sorts of humiliations,
and only recovers his position when he has appeased the indignation of the
leading members, and the priests, by ample amends. On the other hand, he
who remains faithful is protected and supported. Wherever he goes, at
whatsoever distance from his country he may be, he finds a roof and a hearth
with some one of his fellows. If absent for years, he will find, on his return,
his bapota, the field of his fathers, intact, and his house just as he had left it.
This organisation is not without certain advantages. It is this that has rendered
possible that calm, happy, tranquil life, devoid of ambition, that men of the middle
castes lead, and to which they are so strongly attached ; but it has also banished
from the hearts of these men the sentiment of national ambition. If the present
masters were consigned to destruction, these nations would remain at the disposal
of the first conqueror. Pathans, Moguls, Mahrattas, English, have all come; and
the people remain unmoved. Only let them leave him his caste and respect his
privileges, and it matters little to the merchant and the peasant whether the
conqueror be English, Russian, or French.

The different religions of India are, in general, to European eyes, merely a
mixture of gross superstitions and ridiculous fables. We are disposed to see in
such things nothing more than error of the human reason; and, whereas others
are unwilling to admit that there exists the slightest poesy or the slightest good
sense, it is a fact that they all contain sublime truths and grand ideas, com-
prehended by all educated persons. The mass of the people, ignorant as they
always are, can see nothing in them but the external symbols, calculated to strike
their imagination.

No one has ever doubted that the ancient Paganism contains a poetry of ideas,
which, as a substitute for the morality of Christian truth, can for a long time sutflice
for a refined and civilised people, and maintain them in an elevated moral condi-
tion. Well, the Hindoo mythology presents to us passages as fine as the finest to
be found in the Greek mythology, and we there observe all the same symbols and
the same deities under different names. Indra, mounted in his chariot of fire,
which lightens the earth, or presiding over the Apsaras, or Muses, takes the place
of Apollo; Rhemba, having risen from the waves, is the Indian Venus; Cama is :
Cupid; Mahades, Saturn; Ganesa, Janus; Sarasvati, Juno; Parvati, Ceres; Yama,
Pluto; and as many others as the Greek synonomy would be so easily able to
produce. It is true that the interiors of the mysterious temples of India display
to us nothing but monstrous idols, with many faces and numerous arms, brandishing
lances, sabres, and skulls; but all these gods personify the same ideas as the
admirable statues created by Phidias and other renowned Grecian sculptors; only
the Indian, enamoured of mysticism, of strange shapes, and of all that is glowing
and fantastic, holds aloof from those sublime rules that cause us so greatly to
admire the remains of paganism in Europe. Above all these creatures of his
imagination, above all these deities, he has placed a supreme master, alone, solitary,
creator, and uncreate, the master of the universe, BrinM! No statue is raised to
him; but a single mystic word, Om, represents him. Thus, in this religion, we
find the idea of the Supreme Being in all its purity; the Jehovah of the Hebrews,
the ré may of the Greeks ; and, in very truth, this idolatrous people, like ourselves,
does not bow down before any but God the Creator, the heavenly thought which
is the foundation of every religion on the face of the earth. We must not confound
THE HINDOO MYTHOLOGY. 2.

this Brahm or Brihm with the god Brahma, who owes to him his existence, and is
considered by the Hindoos as only a human divinity. This mythology, however
eminently metaphysical, is also very material. It symbolises all the phenomena
of nature, as well as the passions and w#irtues of mankind. Its graceful legends
contain as much science as poetry. Take the description of the Court of Brahma
in the poem of Meru. Do not you find there all that can beguile the Asiatic mind
—gold, diamonds, wonderful gardens, charming nymphs? You there see Olympus
according to Indian ideas: “At the heart of the mystic lotus which supports the
universe,and which springs from the bosom of Vishnu, is the Soumeru, a mountain of
gold, of immeasurable height; its sides are adorned with a mass of jewels of a thousand
colours, resplendent as the rising sun. Everywhere are seen flowers in profusion
with a thousand coronals, such as never could enter into the dreams of man. Amid
the groves are the abodes of the gods, who, shaded by trees that only grow densely
on Meru, live with their wives in perfect and eternal happiness. On the summit
resides Brahma, the god of gods, whose habitation is shrouded by vaporous clouds.
On the east is Indra, in his chariot of fire, who presides at the banquets of the
gods, and pours out the ambrosia; around him press the heavenly company.
The seven Rishis, the stars of the Great Bear, with their glittering crowns; Agni,
the fire-god, on a throne composed of -a thousand precious metals; the sublime -
Yama on his elephant ; Siva the magnificent, with his sons, Ganesa, god of wisdom,
and Karticeya, god of war; Rhemba and her attendant nymphs, the children and
incarnations of the divinities; the sacred serpents; the stars ;—in fact, all things
that are great and beautiful are assembled on Meru to sing the praises of Brahma,
the great creator. Encircled by rivers rolling waves of pure gold, is a forest, every
tree of which diffuses the sweetest perfumes, and in the centre of it is that
mysterious tree, of magic power, adored by gods and men, the tree of immortality.”
On the other hand, where could we find anything more poetical and more replete
with delicious and voluptuous sentiments than the following passage from the
Puranas, where the poet is describing to the votaries of Siva the paradise of
Kailas ?—“ Mahadeo and his wife Parvati are seated on a tiger’s skin, covering a
couch of purple, embroidered with gold and precious stones. A crescent of silver
is on the forehead of the god, and round his head is coiled, like a turban, the
serpent Hisecha, whose thousand heads form a dazzling aigrette ; his innumerable
arms bear deadly weapons, and he wears a necklace of human skulls. Notwith-
standing his fierce attributes, he is calm and amiable, and is engaged in con-
templating Parvati. The latter is ever reclining lovingly on the breast of her
husband, and offers him the divine amrita in a diamond cup. They are surrounded
by a numerous court of young and beautiful gods, while, before them, the Apsaras,
or Muses, are singing enchanting hymns to the accompaniment of their lutes; other
nymphs waft delightful odours through the air with their fans of peacocks’ feathers.
Parvati’s long hair flows free and loose; she combs it with her rosy fingers, which
she refreshes in the ever-living fountain whence all the springs in the world derive
their source. Behind her is concealed the beauteous Cama, the god of love, and
the flower of amra, which forms one of his arrows, grows in profusion around the
divine couch. Birds are singing amid the blue clouds, and the waters glitter and
reflect the golden light.” Music, beauty, youth, and pleasure, all these constitute the
paradise of Siva. What a difference between this description of the heaven of the
Hindoos so brilliant and full of life, and the calm and cold Elsyium of the Greeks!
22 INDIA.

The usual miscellaneous assortment of castes and sects is found amongst the
Hindoos of Bombay; but that of the Kshatriyas numbers very few, and the
Brahmins and merchants greatly preponderate. The Brahmins form a considerable
tribe, which hold aloof, to a great degree, from the other tribes of the same caste.
They are clad entirely in white linen, and wear a heavy turban. They observe a
strictly vegetable diet,
and abstain from tobacco
in every shape. These
rules are, however, com-
mon to nearly all the
Brahmins in India.

The Purvus are a
caste immediately below
that of the Brahmins,
and constitute the class
of officials. Well be-
haved, active, and honest,
they fill the Customs,
the Government. offices,
and all the mercantile
establishments. They are
easily to be recognised
by their coloured tur-
bans, two feet in dia-
meter. Some of these
Purvus attain very dis-
tinguished positions, and
amass considerable for-
tunes. One of them, Jug-
gernauth Sunkersett, not
long ago was a member
of the Governor's Council,
and was the first of the
caste to obtain the hon-
our of a statue. Next
come the Khayets, the
caste of scribes. Every
Khayet, whatever may
be his circumstances, can
read or write one or
more languages.

YOUNG HINDOO WOMAN. But the most influ-

ential caste in the island

is that of the merchants, composed principally of Buniahs and Jains. They
belong to different tribes from the coasts of Kookan and Goojerat; and,
though they wear distinctive costumes, they form a united and very influential
corporation. They are the chief of those speculators in Indian cottons and
English linens, who have helped to raise Bombay to the position it enjoys in

 
A NAUTCH. 23

these branches of commerce. Of a type sometimes aristocratic and always
intelligent, the Buniah is distinguished from the common herd of Bombayans
by his turban, which is round and elevated, like a shako, or rolled in the
form of a conch shell. He wears aedhouti, with a red band, which he folds
about his limbs, and a long calico tunic, fitted close over the chest. One of the
callings he values most is that of a broker, for in it he finds the opportunity of
employing his talents for commerce.

The rich Hindoos lead here a very different life from that of their ancestors.
Without changing anything provided by their religious code, they adopt quite a
European style of luxury. Every night the public walks are obstructed by their
carriages, drawn by thorough-bred horses, and attended by servants in fine liveries.
Their houses are sumptuous, and contain such quantities of furniture, works of art,
glass and lustres, that one might fancy oneself in a shop. In a general way, these
treasures are heaped together without taste or any idea of arrangement; but it
must be observed that their proprietor considers them simply as a collection of
valuable curiosities, calculated to inspire visitors with a great idea of his position.
As for himself, he is often content to occupy a little room in one corner of his
residence.

Intercourse between these people and Europeans is very limited Apart from
commerce or official duties, it is rarely that anything is seen of their private life.
They cannot, however, have the entire blame of this reserve imputed to them, when
it is remembered that they have to deal with such a cold, formal people as the
English ; and one could not ask a person to open his doors, or give proofs of
friendship, to strangers who refuse him the same marks of consideration. In such
matters, however, a great change has taken place of late years, and many lasting
friendships have been formed between European and native Indian gentlemen.

I have myself held uninterrupted and intimate relations with many native
gentlemen, and I have never had cause for dissatisfaction in any particular. This
has enabled me to take part in fétes and friendly gatherings, from which I should
otherwise have been debarred ; as, for example, Nautches, or dances of bayadéres,
one of the favourite entertainments of the rich, and the indispensable accompani-
ment of every religious ceremony or festival. Sometimes, on great occasions, the
head of the house invites Europeans of his acquaintance.

I had scarcely been a month at Bombay when one morning I received a card,
announcing in letters of gold that my friend Purbutt Lallji, a rich Battiah, was
going to celebrate the marriage of his son that night, and that he would have a
great Nautch at nine o’clock, at which the favour of my company was requested.
I took care not to forget this invitation, and, at the appointed hour, I arrived at
the Battiah’s residence. The street was brilliantly illuminated; an awning, from
which superb lamps were suspended, covered it as far as the door; there a
mountain of flowers was piled up—a regular wall—behind which a noisy
Portuguese orchestra was concealed. On my approach, they struck up a military
march, and Purbutt advanced to receive me. Taking me by the hand, he con-
ducted me into a grand apartment, where the Nautch was to take place. Large
mirrors reflected the light of a thousand lustres; rich carpets, and sofas spread
with cashmeres, covered the ground; and the magnificent costumes of the guests,
and the numbers of servants waving fans, gave to the scene that theatrical appear-
ance of which Orientals are so passionately fond.
24 INDIA.

I took my seat on a soft divan, and was immediately surrounded by servants,
who offered me sherbets and fruit, and sprinkled me with rose-water from great
silver flagons. A few paces from me, the bayadéres, crouching down near their
musicians and awaiting the signal for the dance, formed a striking group. These
lovely girls, with pale complexions and large black eyes, covered with diamonds
and precious stuffs, looked at me coolly, and without any appearance of curiosity.
Most of the guests having arrived, our host introduced to us his son, a child
eight years of age, in whose. honour he was giving the féte. These formalities at
an end, he seated himself by me, and gave the signal. Thereupon the dancers
rose up; and unfolding their scarves, and shaking their plaited skirts, they
caused the bells to vibrate which were fastened round their ankles in the form
of bracelets, and which served to mark the time. After a preliminary chorus,
accompanied by viols and tom-toms, they formed a semicircle, and one of them
advanced close to us. With rounded arms, and her veil floating, she turned
herself slowly round, with a gentle quivering of the body, so as to make her bells
resound; the music, soft and languishing, seemed to lull her senses, and, with
eyes half closed, she seemed to be clasping in her amorous embrace some invisible
being. All thus played their parts in succession—one feigning herself a serpent-
charmer, or a lute-player; another, ardent and impassioned, bounding and
whirling round with rapidity; while another, adorned with an elegant cap
embroidered with pearls, addressed us with strange gestures, and followed the
music with a coquettish movement of the body. They concluded their perfor-
mances with an animated round dance, accompanied by songs and clapping of
hands. In all this I saw nothing of that gross immorality which, from what I
had previously been told, I expected to find in the pantomime exhibited by these
women. Their demeanour was correct, though with some little spice of provoca-
tion, and their costume was more modest than that of women in general. I may
add that in this entertainment you must not look for a dance in the ordinary
acceptation of the word: posturing, attitudes, songs, constitute the official Nautch
of the Hindoos; I say official, because I had afterwards the opportunity of seeing
dances of quite another character, to which strangers are rarely admitted These
are real ballets, somewhat like those of our operas, though impressed with the+
voluptuous ardour of the East. Under all other circumstances the Nautch is so
strained, and sometimes so little attractive—especially if the women are neither
young nor pretty—that disappointed Europeans imagine themselves to be taking
part in some mournful ceremony.

Amongst the other amusements of the Hindoo aristocracy is the Theatre ; but,
as they deem it a half-sacred institution, they are more exclusive than they are
in the matter of the Nautch, and it is a rare thing for a European to be present.

As is well known, the ancient drama played as important a part in India as
in Greece and in Asia Minor. Through it the great writers rendered the leading
features of their religious history familiar to the people, or employed them as
parables whereby to inculcate the precepts of honour and morality. The plays
that have come down to us have made us better acquainted with the manners
and ideas of the nations of antiquity than all the poems and sacred _ histories.
The decay, however, of the great Indian schools of philosophy has involved the
downfall of dramatic literature, and the theatre has fallen into desuetude. At
the present time, educated Hindoos have attempted to revive this national insti-
A RELIGIOUS DRAMA. 25

tution, and the old tragedies, dragged from oblivion, reappear on the stage in
the palaces of the richest inhabitants.

Notwithstanding all my applications, I had never yet been able to witness
one of these spectacles; I had only seen some farces, badly played, in a small
public theatre. At last, a native gentleman of my acquaintance, one Govind
Sunder, promised me that I should be present on the first opportunity at a grand
Hindoo drama; and my interest was intensely excited when he one day came to
inform me that he had succeeded in procuring, for that same evening, the services
of an excellent troop of players. At the proper time I repaired to his house,
where I found a large company assembled. One of the reception-rooms had
been converted into a theatre; one end of the room served for the stage, and a
thin screen of calico, hung on a bamboo, did duty for a curtain. Scarcely had
we taken our seats when a Brahmin came from behind the curtain, accompanied
by flute-players, and proceeded to place in front of the stage an image of Ganesa,
the god of wisdom. He uttered an invocation to the deity, praying him to
enlighten the spirits of the actors, and enable them to perform their parts in
a suitable manner. This prelude was calmly received by the audience; and I saw
that this part of the ceremony was quite in earnest. The Brahmin then announced
that the play would treat of the amours of the god Krishna, and withdrew.

The curtain, which was immediately raised, disclosed to us a great personage,
nearly naked, daubed with yellow ochre, and his head furnished with an enormous
wig, who, seated before the entrance of a temple painted on cloth in the back-
ground, remained in an attitude of profound meditation. It was a representation
of the Rishi (or religious ascetic), who, in the Hindoo drama, always possesses a
supernatural power, and plays the part of a spiritual protecting genie.

The scene was invaded by gods and goddesses, amongst whom I easily recog-
nised the blue Vishnu, the beautiful Sarasvati, Rama, and others. Bending before
the impassible genie, they each recited a long declamation, of which I understood
very little What I most admired were the dresses, which so greatly resembled
those in which the ancient idols are represented that I had no doubt they were
the exact and traditional reproduction of them. Above all, the elephant’s head of
the god Ganesa, his huge paunch and short legs, were represented to perfection.
The gods all wore high gilt mitres and brilliant costumes, and the goddesses
shifts of thin and nearly transparent stuff, embroidered with pearls and gold.

Shortly afterwards Krishna enters, and the crowd of divinities disappear. He
is a fine young man, painted blue, and attired like a king. He wanders about,
gloomy and pensive, and relating, with emotion, the feelings that are torturing
him. His heart is in perplexity between two equally powerful affections. His
wife, Satyavama, enters, and throws herself at his feet; her beautiful black eyes
are streaming with tears; she embraces the knees of the god. With a musical
voice, and in the soft Hindoo tongue, she reproaches him with having forsaken her;
then, seeing him undecided, nay touched, she rises, overwhelms him with caresses,
and clasps him in her arms. As regards action, this scene was truly beautiful ;
grief, love, and joy were all expressed with a subtlety and fidelity to nature of
which I could not have believed an Indian actress capable. The gracefulness of
the costumes, the harmony of the language, the expressiveness of the gestures,
sufficed to captivate the attention, notwithstanding one could not understand the
words spoken.
26 INDIA.

The actors retired, and made way for a fresh personage, Rukmini, the rival
of Satyavama. She is a woman of imperious character, and recites to us, in an
animated manner, all the artifices she has employed to gain a triumph over the
weak Krishna. The latter returns with his wife; and thereupon commences a
poetic dialogue between the two women. The one boasts of her genealogy, which
is traced to Vishnu; of her beauty, and her spirit ; and reproaches Krishna with
his unworthy love. The other replies sweetly that her only crime is to have loved
her divine husband. She relates how, when a young peasant girl at play upon
the enchanted banks of the Jumna, surrounded by her companions, she had
attracted the attention of the god. Her life had always been simple, and she
had continued constant in her love. But Rukmini triumphs. Her haughty
language awakens the god’s pride. Satyavama goes out, and returns with her
young son, whom, kneeling before the deity, she presents to him: “Kill us both,”
she exclaims, “since we cannot live without your love.” Urged on by Rukmini,
who ridicules these sentiments, he hands a cup of poison to his wife; she swallows
it at one draught, and sinks to the earth. “It is not,” says she, “ the torments of
the poison that rend me; it is that my heart is broken by the ingratitude of one
whom I have so dearly loved.” She assures him of her forgiveness, and then dies.

But a Hindoo drama cannot end in so doleful a fashion. The guardian
genie enters, and in a voice of thunder demands from Krishna an account of his
conduct. The latter, tortured with the pangs of remorse, cannot excuse himself;
he drives away Rukmini, and implores the forgiveness of the genie. Satyavama
returns to life, and presents her son to her husband, who holds out his arms to
embrace him ; and the curtain falls on this scene amid the blazing of Bengal
_ lights and the “ Wah! wah!” of the spectators. This piece is composed, for
the most part, of very long monologues, which the actor addresses to the public;
otherwise, if reduced to action merely, the representation would be very short.
It is not tiring to hear these well-cadenced verses recited in a soft, pleasing voice,
which the actor accompanies with expressive pantomime. The sentiments bear
the impress of most enchanting sweetness.

I complimented my friend Govind on the talent of his actors, and more
particularly on that of his charming actresses ; but the latter compliment seemed
to afford him much amusement. After enjoying a good laugh, he informed me
that the laws of the theatre did not allow women to appear on the stage ; all the
female parts were filled by young boys, remarkable for their beauty and the
sweetness of their voices. I was never more astonished in my life ; and even his
arguments could scarcely convince me. This play was followed by an episode
in the Pandee war, in which the gods dealt tremendous strokes with their wooden
sabres.

Besides the Nautches, and the Tamashas of the theatre, the Hindoos find, in
their numerous religious festivals, additional opportunities for the display of that
luxury and magnificence which they are so eager to indulge. The English Govern-
ment recognises many by the closing of its offices and a general suspension of
business. If it is remembered that Bombay contains, in addition, a large popula-
tion of Parsees, Mussulmans, Jews, and Christians, it will readily be seen that
many days are devoted to some religious ceremony or other.

One of the Hindoo fétes at which I was present in this city, and one of the
most original, is Nag Punchmi, or the Festival of the Serpents. This day is set
FESTIVAL OF THE SERPENTS. 27

apart for making offerings to serpents, and conciliating them by prayers, in order
to ensure safety against their deadly bites. The approaches to the various temples
are filled by a dense crowd, in holiday attire, and the streets are bordered by little
booths, where cakes, toys, and statuettes of the gods are sold.

Long processions of women, in Madonna-like costume, poetically draped in their
veils of silk, pass singing through the streets, and carrying their offerings of rice
and sugar to lay before the images of Krishna. It is, in fact, the anniversary of
the day on which this deity killed the great serpent of Bindrabund, which was
desolating the banks of the Jumna. Standards, huge copper trumpets, torches of
blazing pitch, rise on every side above this brilliant multitude. Palanquins
adorned with hangings, and occupied by fat Brahmin ladies assuming seductive
airs, are huddled together in every direction.

The incessant wave that encumbers the environs of the pool of Paidoneh
presses through the small adjacent streets towards a neighbouring spot, where the
most important ceremony of the féte takes place.

Here are drawn up two or three hundred Sdépwallahs, or serpent-charmers,
each having in front of him a basket containing several cobra capellas. The
pious Hindoos bring them bowls of buffalo’s milk, of which these reptiles are
very fond, and which the charmer gives them to drink. Each bowel is quickly
surrounded by a circle of cobras, which, with their heads immersed in the liquid,
remain perfectly motionless. From time to time the Sdpwallah takes one away
to make room for another; and it is curious to witness the fury of the deposed
animal, which draws itself up, and swells out its hood. The circle of charmers
is surrounded by a crowd of spectators, who contemplate the scene. The reptiles
swarming about the bowls, and the men half naked, or covered with coloured
tinsel, who handle them without the slightest fear, form a very original spectacle.
These singular proceedings continue all day, during which a large number of
cobras are abundantly regaled with milk. At night the houses are illuminated ;
processions accompanied by torches pass through the streets; and on every site
there resounds a fearful din of cymbals, tom-toms, and hautboys.

This féte is generally held in July or August, the season when the cobras are
most dangerous ; and their instinctive dread has induced the people to choose this
time to appease the wrath of these terrible demi-gods.

The feast of Naryal Puranama, or of the Full Moon of the Cocoa-nuts, is one of
the most important of those celebrated at Bombay. It is usually held towards the
latter end of September, and is supposed to mark the termination of the rainy
season. Although purely a Hindoo festival, all the races of the island unite
together in its celebration. An immense concourse assembles on the shore of the
Back Bay. The top of the bank is covered with tressels and carracks, and for
two days this place, usually a perfect desert, presents a most picturesque and
animated spectacle. Every one approaches the sea, or even enters it up to mid-
leg, and casts some cocoa-nuts as far as possible into the water. To this offering
he adds a short prayer, in which he invokes the sea, and prays it to keep all
danger far away from those who are going to undertake long voyages. Before he
comes out, he further throws into the sea a crown of flowers, by way of thanking
it for having accepted his tribute.

Thousands of cocoa-nuts are thus thrown into the bay during those two days,
for a considerable section of the population of Bombay get their living by the sea,
28 INDIA.

and have an interest in its being favourable to them. Fishermen, sailors, ship-
owners, women and children, all come to pray to it, and implore its clemency.
This custom, in all its primitive simplicity, is very touching, and shows that the
Hindoo, in his religion, forgets neither that which he loves, and which is a source
of benefit to him, nor that which he fears, and whose resentment must be
appeased. The other great Hindoo festivals are the Dassara and the Divali;
but, as I had the opportunity of seeing them’ in all their magnificence in
Rajpootana, I will not speak of them here, inasmuch as at Bombay they are
celebrated in a less imposing manner.

The Parsees, next to the Hindoos, hold the most important position in the
island of Bombay. <A few words as to their origin and history will serve to
explain how this nation obtained an introduction into the midst of people from whom
they differ altogether in complexion, religion, and manners. The Parsees, or
Ghebers, are the descendants of the fire-worshippers, votaries of Zoroaster, whom
the successors of Alexander the Great persecuted with so much cruelty. Com-
pelled to abandon Persia, they took refuge in the island of Ormuz; and afterwards,
still dreading persecution from the Mussulmans, they embarked on board ship,
and, setting sail, landed on the shores of Goojerat. A certain Rajpoot prince,
Jaya Deva, who was reigning at that period over the provinces of Champanir,
granted them a small territory on the coast of the Korkan, where they founded
the town of Sanjan.* The conditions imposed by the Rajah were that the
Parsees should adopt an Indian style of dress, and that they should never eat the
flesh of the ox. Up to the present time these people have remained faithful to
their engagement. The little colony had much to suffer from the continual change
of masters which India was doomed to undergo from the eighteenth to the
nineteenth century. They fought on the side of their protectors against the
Mussulman invaders, and were nearly annihilated. After that, being considered
Pariahs, they remained quietly in their villages, devoting themselves to agriculture
and commerce, down to the time when the English, appreciating the advantages
of securing the attachment of a race so devoted and so intelligent, attracted them
to Bombay. At the present day they form a tribe of rich and active men, full of
devotion to the English rule, and to whom the present prosperity of the island is,» - -
in a great degree, owing. Laborious and patient, they have all the good qualities
of the Jews; they are generally very generous, and appreciate a life of comfort
and luxury. Their influence is enormous, and is augmented by the union and the
friendship that prevails amongst the members of this model nation. They boast,
and with good reason, that throughout the whole of Bombay there does not exist
either a pauper or a prostitute of their caste. Any who are in want are assisted
by the community, which possesses a vast organisation of hospitals and dispen-
saries. Their language is Goojerati, for which they long ago abandoned the
Persian tongue; but now English has become of habitual use with them. Their
wives and children speak it, and it will probably one day be their national
language. They retain the costume which Jaya Deva imposed upon them, and
which has nothing unbecoming in it except the cap, a kind of cone cut down and
bent, and covered with glazed linen ; but, by a singular anomaly, they hold to it more
than to the rest of their attire, which has pretty generally been exchanged for
that worn by Europeans: they still preserve their curious head-gear, which is not

* See the article, Kissah-i-Sanjan, Bombay Asiatic Society, April, 1862.
 

 

bes pest

SS

  

PARSEE CHILDREN.
30 INDIA.

only ugly, but does not protect its wearer from either sun or rain. As for their
wives, they contrive to blend the ancient costumes of Persia and India in a
charming manner. They drape themselves gracefully in a large and long piece of
silk, which first being folded about the loins, and forming a petticoat, is rolled
round the bust, and half covers the head. They have a curious custom of

MEDLAEE

oF

EZ

= ay ———,
TS"
(
a

 

PARSEE LADY AND HER DAUGHTER.

enveloping the hair in a white handkerchief, which forms a band over the fore-
head resembling that worn by our nuns. They are generally very pale, sometimes
very pretty, and appear to enjoy as much liberty as our European women, for they
are frequently seen walking in the bazaars, or appear in the evening in handsome
carriages on the promenades frequented by the best society.
*

THE PARSEES. 30

The Parsees worship the sun, which they maintain to be the emblem of the
Supreme Being. They may be seen drawn up in long rows, on the shore of the
Back Bay, addressing their prayers to the dog-star, which is sinking beneath the

iN

M

 

A PARSEE MERCHANT AT BOMBAY.

wave. Their worship is offered to all the elements in general: to the stars, the
sea, rivers, and the sacred tree, Héma; but, above all, to fire, to which alone they
raise temples. They hate idols in the same degree as do the Jews and Mahometans.
Their temples are of the plainest description, and, although they do not allow
32 INDIA.
strangers to enter the most sacred of them, it is easy to visit some, even at Bombay,
which give an accurate notion of the greatest.

They are generally large buildings, containing a hall supported by columns;
in the centre of which, under a dome pierced with outlets for the smoke, is the
grand altar, surmounted by a brazier, in which the sacred fire is burning, This
fire, which has not been extinguished for centuries, and which was brought from
Persia by the earliest emigrants, is kept in by supplies of the costliest wood and
most exquisite perfumes ; it would be an unpardonable crime to throw into it any
inferior substance. Some of the priests, called dustours, keep watch day and night
before the altar, and distribute to the faithful small quantities of the sacred fire,
in order that with it they may light the fires in their houses that have gone out.
Notwithstanding the superstitions which mask the comparatively beautiful principles
of their religion, they are very tolerant, and not greatly bigoted.

The Parsees are generally of a gentle and conciliatory disposition, and cultivate
the society of Europeans, their manners being an exact copy of ours. They have
magnificent equipages and sumptuous houses, and give dinners and fétes, but,
nevertheless, without the refined taste of the European. They are greatly deficient
in that natural talent possessed by the Indian, for understanding in what luxury
consists, and for arranging imposing spectacles. They are in a state of transition,
neither European nor Indian. I had, however, the opportunity of being present
at a great marriage ceremony at the house of a rich broker, named Cowasjee
Jehanghir; and I certainly think that it would be difficult to see greater luxury,
or to find a more agreeable host. Cowasjee’s residence was in the centre of a large
garden, which had been illuminated to the brightness of day. The alleys were
lighted up with lustres, and the trees were covered with fruit and flowers of fire.
Scarcely had I entered this enchanted spot when I found myself in the midst of a
great assemblage of Parsee gentlemen, who, in their ceremonial robes, long, white,
and flowing, were walking about, engaged in conversation with one another. Their
presence in this, the costume of the ancient Persians, gave to the scene an Asiatic
character, in which of itself it was somewhat wanting. I was kindly received by
them ; numerous hand-shakings were exchanged, and joining their party I followed
them into the house. Here I found Cowasjee, who conducted me into a richly
furnished room, where the ceremony was to take place. The dustours, in full
dress, were standing in a circle, and already reciting their monotonous psalmodies,
whilst in the meantime a good military band, stationed in the verandah, was
giving us waltzes and quadrilles. When all the guests were arranged round the
vast apartment, the band was ordered to cease playing, and a chief dustour began
the nuptial hymn in that nasal tone of which the clergy of all religions have the
exclusive privilege. The priests formed in order, and went to meet the happy
couple, who entered by one of the principal doors. The young bridegroom, all in
white, his neck adorned with a garland of flowers, walked by the side of the bride,
who, clad in a superb dress of brocade, half concealed her features from us beneath
a veil. When they reached the centre of the room the two young people prostrated
themselves ; and, the chief dustour having taken his place close to them, the group
was covered with an immense cashmere shawl, which formed a tent and hid them
completely. A moment afterwards, when the veil was withdrawn, the youthful
pair were man and wife. Then the bride was surrounded by a large circle of
Parsee ladies, congratulating her, embracing her, or weeping for joy; and the
*

THE MUSSULMANS. 33

husband proceeded to embrace his father, and to shake hands with his friends.
After this curious ceremony we were invited to go into the garden, where, beneath
the sombre shade of mango and tamarind trees, a magnificent supper was awaiting
us. The table was covered with the figest wines, the choicest European dishes,
and the most beautiful flowers of the tropics; and the Parsees, without the least
hesitation, did honour to all these delicacies. Strains of English and Indian music
were alternately heard. Sometimes we were soothed by a languishing Goojerati
refrain ; sometimes the lively measures of a brilliant Parisian quadrille burst forth.
Towards eleven o’clock we were introduced to the Parsee ladies. The dresses of most
of them were covered with gold, diamonds, and jewels, which, under the influence of
the numerous lustres, presented a strangely variegated and fairy-like appearance.
I talked with some of them, who spoke English admirably, and seemed perfectly
to understand the rules of conversation. This blending of Indian and, to all
appearance, almost European manners could not have taken place on a more
agreeable day than that of this féte; and, when the hour for departure arrived,
I sincerely thanked Cowasjee for his invitation.

The Parsees have not, like the rest of the Indians, numerous public festivals
that interfere continually with the despatch of business. They have only a small
number, and are content to celebrate them by private prayers and rejoicings.
The feast of Zoroaster, one of the principal, is held in September, when women
and priests throng the temples, and spend the day in prayer. As for the men,
they meet in the gardens or by the seaside, and pass their day in amusements of
every description. The Nowroj, or New Year’s-day, is kept in the same way as with
us: friends make calls, exchange presents, give dinner-parties, and distribute alms
to the poor of every sect. The only point of which their religion can be called to
account, and which is really unworthy of people so full of sense and so civilised,
is the barbarous manner in which they dispose of their dead. Having already
mentioned this ceremony in connection with the great Dokhma of Malabar Hill,
I shall not return to a subject so gloomy. It remains a blot on the otherwise
noble history of this ancient race.

The Mussulmans of every sect, inhabiting the island of Bombay, form about
one-third of the pupulation. A great number are Arabs or Persians, and are,
properly speaking, only strangers, attracted solely by the prosperity of the
place, and who, when once their object is accomplished and their fortune made,
return to their own country. They therefore do not call for particular notice ;
but, besides them, there are a great many tribes, indigenous to Bombay, who
present in their manners and customs some interesting peculiarities. Amongst
these, the Shiite tribe of the Bhorahs is the most important. Their name signifies,
in Goojerati, merchants; and they devote themselves, without exception, to
commerce. The Mussulmans are said to be divided into two rival branches: the
Sunnis, who accept the oral traditions of Mahomet (or the Sunnat) as of equal rank
with the Koran, and who revere the memory of the four Imnams, successors of
the Prophet—Abou Beker, Omar, Osman, and Ali; and the Shiahs, who reject
the Sunnat, refuse to recognise the Iméms, and carry their respect for Ali and
Houssein to the extent of adoration. According to tradition, a missionary of this
latter sect, Mollah Ali, arrived in Goojerat and converted to Mahometanism the
Hindoo tribe of the Bhorahs, who live in the neighbourhood of Ahmedabad. The

Sunni Mussulmans, who are the most numerous, regard them with horror as vile
c
34 INDIA.

heretics ; and this difference of opinion is the cause at Bombay of frequent conflicts
between the two sects. These Bhorahs possess nearly all the petty traffic of
Bombay ; their shops, which fill the bazaars, are the receptacles of all kinds of

mr " i

Mik

Ye Wi

Wa

Lo ha
iH

 

 

BOMBAY MUSSULMANS.

articles representing the haberdashery and hardware of Europe. Their manners
are quiet and reserved ; even the richest live parsimoniously ; and their intercourse
with Europeans is purely commercial. Another sect of Shiahs has come to take
®

THE MUSSULMANS. 35

up its abode by their side, and has increased the influence they already possessed
throughout the whole country: these are the Kadjahs, descendants of the tribe of
the Ismailiyahs, whose present chief, Aga Khan, is the direct successor of the
famous Hassan Salah, the “ Prince of the Assassins,” or the “Old Man of the
Mountain,” so renowned at the time of the Crusades. It is not surprising to find,
in these races converted to Islamism, many of the superstitions of their primitive
religion. Notwithstanding the rigorously iconoclastic sentiments of their creed,
it is easy to observe the natural taste which the Mahometans of India have for
emblematic ornaments in their
public festivals, where it is no
rare occurrence to see them
figuring by hundreds. In the
rejoicings of the Moharum,
which take place at the com-
mencement of their year, they
make temples of gilt paper,
sometimes of precious metals,
imitating, with more or less
accuracy, the tombs of the
Imiims, which they cast into
the sea after conducting them
in triumph through the city.
In all this they are doubtless per-
forming the same ceremony by
which their ancestors celebrated
the commencement of the new
year, and offered to the earth
a tithe of their worldly goods.

Their wives also enjoy a
greater amount of liberty than
in other countries of the East.
They go out into the streets
with their faces uncovered, and
are dressed just like the Hin-
doo women. Though some-

 

= cites ee Sc aS N
times good-looking, they are Rs me Ait”
‘ Meer On, pre
never neat, and often disgust- oe
ingly dirty; by which they SEEPENT-CHABMED:

can easily be distinguished
from their charming fellow-countrywomen, who carry cleanliness to excess, and
spend much time in bathing.

Bombay contains also an important colony of Oriental Jews, who, having for
the most part been settled in the country for centuries, have adopted some of the
usages of the Mahometans, and cannot easily be distinguished from them.

The life of the European inhabitants itself strongly reflects the influences of
the climate and of the surrounding people. The houses, though furnished most
luxuriously, contain little that can recall their country to those whom commerce,
or some other pursuit, has led to exile themselves in this fine country. The
56 INDIA.
punkahs, enormous fans, which are suspended from the ceiling, and extend the
whole width of the room, alone give a strange appearance to the interior. The
bedchambers are vast and gloomy, the windows furnished only with blinds, and
the beds surrounded with enormous mosquito nets of muslin, and placed in the
centre of the room. Spacious verandahs, furnished with couches admitting of an
easy and calm posture, run completely round the house. In the midst of all this,
a number of Indian servants, neat and silent, are moving here and there: hamals,
khansamas, and khitmutgars, who are employed inside the house; sepoys, or
peons, who run errands or carry letters; malis, or gardeners ; bheestis, or water-
carriers; meters, or sweepers; and baboudjis, or cooks. Every house has an
establishment of a dozen servants, who share amongst them the work that could
easily be done by two or three; but it is impossible to dispense with them.
The man who waits at table would not for the world brush your coat; nor would
he who cleans the furniture condescend to a lower office. As the dwelling-
houses are far away from the offices and centres of business, every European is
obliged to keep his carriage and horses, which necessitates an entirely different
staff. In short, hemmed in by this circle of necessities, the European finds him-
self compelled to maintain a large establishment.

Many people in Europe have been observers, at a distance, of that famous
movement in 1864-65, which, for a moment, raised Bombay to the very height
of prosperity only to precipitate it into the disorders of a terrible crisis. Having
been a spectator of this state of things, which was analogous to that which
agitated France in the time of John Law, I here take the liberty of saying a
few words. America, rent asunder by the horrors of civil war, had deprived
Europe of one of the elements most necessary to its industrial existence, viz,
cotton; and India, which had comprehended how important it was that she
should attempt to step into the place then, for the time being, vacant, had
(thanks to her intelligent efforts) become able to supply in a great degree the
void that had been produced in the means of feeding the manufactures of the
world. Bombay had then become the emporium of all the cotton of India.
Availing herself of the immense advantages of her position, she had contrived
to attract to herself the whole of this branch of commerce, and had become
almost the sole arbitress of it. Incredible fortunes were rapidly accumulated,
and then, impelled by the longing after speculation which had begun to possess
their souls, the Indians disinterred the treasures that had been buried for
centuries, and money overflowed upon the ground. Considering the recon-
struction of the United States an impossibility, the Bombayans foresaw for their
city a most magnificent future. Instead of seeing in that season merely an
exceptional piece of good fortune, they thought that nothing could possibly
reverse their prosperity. Projects sprang into life on all sides; cotton, while
remaining as the basis of their commerce, became merely the pretext for unlimited
speculation. Intelligent but inconsiderate men established gigantic companies
to develop resources which had already attained the height of their development.
A project was organised to enlarge the island, and reclaim from the sea the Back
Bay. A company was started; and when, some days after the issue of the
shares, they attained a premium of £3000, the speculation knew no bounds.
Many new banks were founded; but all this was on paper only. It was merely
a game at which everybody was playing. Merchants, officers, public functionaries,
*

FINANCIAL CRISIS. 37

were only too glad to exchange their silver for wretched scraps of paper; some
humbled themselves so far as to solicit the leaders of the movement, and the
leading men were regarded as millionaires and demigods. In spite of the efforts
of some honourable men, who foresaw the ruin in which this folly would certainly
end, and who endeavoured to stop the people on the brink of the abyss, the
contagion spread throughout the whole island. Even the ladies, seated in their
chariots by the seaside, conversed together eagerly on the fluctuations of the
Exchange; servants risked their wages, and workmen their pay, in this insatiable
speculation. But when the news of General Lee’s defeat reached Bombay, when
the banks were closed, when well-established commercial houses collapsed, and
all these shares became waste paper, then there was universal ruin—from the
greatest to the least, all were struck down. The crash was so severe that even
the Bank of Bombay was obliged to suspend payment, and the most prudent
were in their turn dragged into the abyss created by the speculators. Bombay
has raised itself slowly and painfully from this fearful crisis; and now it aspires

anew, but with more prudence, to become once more the commercial metropolis of
India.
CHAPTER III.
EXCURSIONS IN THE BOMBAY HARBOUR.

The End of the Monsoon.—The Island of Karanjah.—Vultures and Carrion Birds.—A Gigantic
Tree.—The Caves of Elephanta.

   

(al T length the sky cleared ; the incessant showers of the monsoon gave

he aS place to pleasant breezes from the north-east, and towards the first
days of October I could dream of commencing my explorations.
I began by a minute inspection of the Bombay group of islands,
in which it is easy to recognise the Heptanesia of the geo-
5 erapher Arrian, and which appear to have been peopled and
civilised from the most remote antiquity. This group is composed of a dozen
islands, the principal of which are—Sashthi, or Salsette ; Garapoori, or Elephanta;
Dravé, Bassein, Versova, Trombay, and Bombay. This last name, which some
etymologists have derived from the Portuguese Buon Bahia, comes, as has been
before remarked, from Bomba, one of the names of the goddess Mamba Devi, to
whom the island is dedicated.

As soon as the rains began to abate, I made my preparations for leaving the
city; and, having marked out my itinerary, I commenced with the islands that
rise on the opposite side of the bay. JI made arrangements with a boatman, the
owner of a bunder-boat, who engaged, for a moderate sum, to take me to the
islands of Karanjah and Elephanta, and thence to land me at Tannah, in Salsette,
where my effects were to rejoin me. ©

On a fine morning in September I arrived at the Apollo Pier, where the
bunder-boats congregate, amongst which I found my own, which was soon stored
with the provisions, guns, hammocks, &c., which I took with me on this my first
expedition. The sun had not yet risen, and the spectacle presented. by the
harbour was most beautiful. Close by, a fleet of vessels, black and silent, lay
beneath the sea walls of the fort, and seemed to occupy only an insignificant
space in this majestic bay, whose unbroken surface is lost in the distance of ten
miles in the mists of the islands. The horizon was bounded by the Ghats,
whose imposing line of terraces and fantastic peaks were beginning to glow in
the early brightness of the dawn. I hurried the boatmen, and we were soon
sailing over this superb lake. The bunder-boats, which are employed in the
harbour, are graceful barques of about thirty tons, carrying broad latteen sails,
and having large and comfortable cabins astern, surrounded with blinds and
furnished with benches. The crew consists of six or seven sturdy lascars. AS
we proceed, the beauty of the panoramic view increases. The tops df the
mountains blaze; and the tallest peak, and the one most remarkable for its

 
ISLAND OF KARANGAH. 39

bizarre form,—Funnel Hill,—assumes the shape of an obelisk, dark below and of
purple hue above. The islands and the wooded shores, lately hidden from us
by the mist, suddenly appear; a light and cool breeze sweeps over the water,
and the dull noise of awakened Bombay reaches us. How charming is this
hour in the tropics! All around is gay and beautiful. The foliage of the trees,
refreshed by the dews of night, the songs of birds, the soft light of daybreak,
and the splendour of the rising sun, combine to form a whole that speaks to the
heart, and fills it with the most agreeable emotions. But the sun mounts above
the roseate peaks of the Ghats; the scene rapidly changes, and the vivid light
peculiar to these regions
spreads everywhere. Kar-
anjah, the island towards
which we are directing our
course, is still far distant.
The faint outline of its
mountains, in the form of
a camel’s back, rises in the
midst of a dense mass of
vegetation, which covers all
the level portions of the
island to the very centre,
and extends down to the
coast. The straits which
separate it from the neigh-
bouring continent are sprin-
kled over with innumerable
fishing-boats; and these
myriads of white points
set off the deep blue of
the sea.

After about an hour's
pleasant sailing, the barque
was brought as near to
the shore as possible, and
two of the boatmen, tak-
ing me on their shoulders,
transported me to the
beach. I was soon joined
by the few servants I had
brought with me; and we forthwith set out in quest of a small residence—the only
one in this part of the island, belonging to a Parsee, who had been so obliging as to
place it at my disposal. My men soon found it, and a half-naked Indian, who
was in charge, opened the door to me at my simple request; so great is the
confidence reposed in a European by the lower orders of the people. It was
nothing more than a cabin, to which the Parsee came now and then to entertain
himself and his friends; but it was so picturesque that I would not have
exchanged it for one of the grand houses at Bombay.

Sitting at my cabin door, while the servants were getting breakfast ready, I

 

BUNDER-BOAT.
#6 INDIA.
contemplated this spectacle, so new to me. The strange and imposing forms of
the trees, the rich colour of their glossy leaves, the deep shades beneath them,
and all the exuberant vegetation of this virgin soil, would have made a lively
impression even upon one already habituated to tropical scenes; as for myself,
so recently arrived, I was overcome with genuine emotion. Acacias, tamarinds,
and nims blended their varied foliage by the side of palm, cocoa, and areca, trees,
with their straight and slender trunks; on every side rose numerous trees whose
names and forms were entirely strange to me. My feelings, however, did not
prevent me from doing justice to my first breakfast in the jungle. “This duty
fulfilled, I took my gun and made my way into the forest. Parrots of gay
plumage, and small green paroquets, flew clamorously amongst the trees, and I
killed some of them as I saw no other game. I saw a good many monkeys;
but, not having any confidence in my pacific intentions, they prudently kept out
of the way, so that I could not get a good view of them. I proceeded slowly,
sometimes forcing a passage through thickets of cactus armed with formidable
spines, sometimes across a network of creepers. Although the sun was at its
height, I was by no means inconvenienced; the air was cool, and laden with a
strong perfume, produced by thousands of purple flowers that hung in clusters
from certain trees. I had to cross some “nullahs” that were nearly dry, or
formed a succession of marshes covered with magnificent white and red lotuses :
but I soon arrived at the foot of the mountain, a regular wall of rocks, steep and
rugged, which I was not disposed to attempt to climb. There was nothing for it,
therefore, but to retrace my steps and regain my cabin. On my way I heard a
slight noise close at hand, and, curious to know what animal it was that made it,
I advanced softly from the verge of the palms that, at this point, bordered flooded
fields planted with rice. I then saw before me a strange spectacle, though one
which is by no means rare in that country; a buffalo lay dead, and carrion-birds
were disputing the ownership of his carcase. They were in considerable numbers:
enormous vultures with ermined necks and bald heads; buzzards, kites, and
crows; a collection which would have been the delight of the richest zoological
gardens in the world.

Having with some difficulty found my way home, I called the captain of my
bunder-boat, and ordered him to make every preparation for conveying me to
the other side of the island, where I had been informed there was a temple of
considerable antiquity.

In an hour's time we set sail, leaving the servants and the provisions behind.
Doubling a promontory that starts up from the sea, and thus renders it impossible
to go round the island by land, we soon entered a charming bay, overhung on all
sides by cliffs; at the head of which were seen the white houses of the village
of Karanjah. When we were within a short distance of it, we cast anchor and
hailed a shore-boat, which, putting out, came to take me ashore. It was one of
those light canoes which the Indians make out of the trunk of a tree, and which
capsizes on the slightest shifting of balance. I entered it with great misgivings,
but was landed, safe and sound, in a few minutes. The arrival of a vessel of
such consequence as my bunder-boat must have been a rare occurrence in this
little village ; for, on landing, I found a number of the inhabitants assembled on
the beach, as well as pariah dogs, which barked fiercely on seeing me. Two
persons in scarves advanced, and, saluting me respectfully, introduced themselves
A GIGANTIC TREE. 4

as the custom-house officer and the patel, the most important personages in the
place. They kindly proposed to take me to their houses, for rest and refresh-
ment; and, on my declining, the patel offered himself and was accepted as my
guide. This village, almost entirely inhabited by fishermen, possesses fish-curing
establishments well known throughout the country. Here are prepared those
“bummelows,” dry as sticks, but nevertheless savoury, of which the English are
great lovers. The patel conducted me to the drying-houses, which are of the
most primitive description. The fish are brought in fresh, opened and sorted
beneath large sheds, and then dried in the sun upon pieces of linen spread on the
sand. When they are thoroughly dried, they are slightly smoked and packed in
baskets of palm-leaves. From thence I went through the village, along the prin-
cipal street lined with small whitewashed cabins, covered with thatch, and look-
ing cheerful and well-to-do. The inhabitants, who are Hindoos, and consequently
content with a little, live in comfort, thanks to the trade in dried fish, which they
enjoy in common with the other villages of the coast. Outside it are some rice-
plantations and some small fields of vegetables surrounded by high hedges of
cactus covered with climbing plants.

The aspect of this side of the island is altogether different from that where
I was encamped on the same morning. Whilst the vegetation is less rich and
luxuriant, the general effect is much grander. The forest is composed of gigantic
and venerable trees, standing at short distances from each other, and growing out
of a stony tract of land, devoid of brushwood. You can walk, therefore, without
hindrance, beneath sombre arches of over-spreading foliage, where a delicious
freshness prevails, and the sea-breeze circulates freely. Some of these trees are
of truly extraordinary height and diameter. One of them, a sl of the most
beautiful species, is celebrated throughout the country ; and pilgrims on their way
to the temple always set up their encampment beneath the impenetrable shade of
its branches, which, standing out straight from the trunk, have attained such a
length that: their extremities have given way and rest on the ground, Thus
they form round the tree a circular dome, beneath which a thousand Indians
easily find shelter. Quite close to this tree is a banyan not less celebrated,
and which, according to native tradition, already numbers many centuries. The
parent stem has disappeared ; and in its place rises a small temple, which thus is
in the centre of a tangled mass of natural columns, supporting the branches that
have given them birth, and forming a majestic though singular edifice. The
banyan, or Ficus Indica, has the property of throwing off from its branches
supplementary roots, which, growing rapidly, soon become in their turn stems
which support the parent branch, and continue themselves the work of encroach-
ment. This tree produces small figs, which grow in bunches on the stem and
branches, and not at their extremities. It is the king of the Indian forests; and,
according to the popular legends, it was with its leaves that the earliest of man-
kind clothed themselves, and its form gave them the idea of constructing habita-
tions. The worthy patel of Karanjah appeared proud of my admiration for the
fine trees of his district, and related, with great volubility, all the stories relating
to them. Such a tree had been planted by a Rishi or anchorite of fabulous
antiquity ; another, even at the present time, served as the abode of an evil spirit,
and its trunk, daubed at the base with red ochre, showed the veneration the
credulous pilgrims ‘had for him. We soon reached the temple, which is hidden
#4 INDIA.
in a thick grove. At the first glance I saw that the existing edifice was compar-
atively modern, and, after conversing for some time with one of the priests, I
learned that this temple had been built one or two centuries before, on the site
and with the very remains of an ancient Jain sanctuary, which had been thrown
down by the invaders. He pointed out some specimens set in the wall, which

still bore the traces of ornaments carved with considerable taste. I could obtain

no very exact information from him as to the origin of the ancient sanctuary ;

and, my researches in quest of some inscription proving unfruitful, I retraced my —
path to the village. On the way I brought down some blue pigeons, and saw,

asleep beneath the rocks, a couple of snakes of large size, which my guide declared

were harmless, and were called rock snakes.

On my return to the village I accepted the pressing offers of the patel, who

 

BANYAN.

forthwith brought me some ripe cocoa-nuts, the milk of which I drank with
delight. On leaving, I slipped into his hand a few rupees, which procured me
many salaams up to the moment of my embarkation. We doubled the promon-
tory, and at five o’clock I was once more sitting in my cabin. I shall long
preserve the remembrance of this my first night in the solitude of the tropics;
the profound silence, broken only by the sharp cry of the jackal ; the thousands of
phosphorescent insects, lighting up the arches of foliage; and the scents, so sweet
and so unwholesome, perfuming the atmosphere. I had ordered a large crackling
fire to be lighted, not to scare away wild beasts, but to drive off those far more
terrible and far more subtle enemies, the miasmata from the surrounding marshes.

Next morning before daybreak we were all stirring, packing up the provisions
and loading the boat, to return to the neighbouring island of Garapoori. Here
are the excavations of Elephanta, so justly renowned throughout the world for
CAVES OF ELEPHANTA. 43

their beauty as a whole, and the immensity of the labour employed upon them.
Half an hour sufficed to bring us in front of the island, which, though less exten-
sive than Karanjah, presents the same form, parted into two peaks, rounded, and
completely covered with woods up,to their very summits. Here, also, the
shallowness of the coast prevents a sufficiently near approach; and one has to
wade ashore, with the water waist-high, or, what is better, to get carried by the
boatmen. At some little distance from the landing-place is a shapeless mass of
rock, which represented of old a gigantic elephant, and which has procured for the

mg

Nt

 

ENTRANCE OF CAVES, ELEPHANTA.

island the name of Elephanta, which the Portuguese bestowed upon it. At the
present day one must rely on the veracity of the guides, for the rock does not
bear the least trace of sculpture.

Behind a dense thicket is found the commencement of a handsome flight of
steps, cut in the solid rock of the mountain, which leads to the principal excava-
tion. It winds through the midst of the forest, sometimes concealing itself beneath
the thickly growing trees, sometimes skirting the ravine, which divides the island
into two, and commanding a magnificent view above the top of the palm-trees.
44 INDIA,
The opposite coast, the mountain-peaks on the islands of Elephanta and Salsette,
rising above the forests which clothe their sides, the beautiful river Tannah, wind-
ing its blue waters between steep banks crowned with palms that bend gracefully
over its smooth surface, all form a panorama of enchanting beauty. “As regards
richness of vegetation and beauty of landscape, the harbour of Bombay surpasses
all the other points of the coasts of India, and has no rival in that respect save
the island of Ceylon. From whatever point you contemplate it, it always
furnishes new views of magnificent beauty.

The flight of steps above mentioned comes out on a large platform planted with
trees; and, going on a short distance, we suddenly find ourself in front of the
great cave, whose massive columns seem to be sustaining the mountain. Two
columns and two pilasters form three great square gateways, which afford a view
of the dark and mysterious interior of the temple. The rock which overhangs
them is covered with a festoon of creepers, the stalks of which hang down nearly
to the entrance. Scarcely has one crossed the threshold of the sanctuary when
one feels overcome by that vague and indefinable impression which the great
works of man’s hand always produce. Rows of columns, losing themselves in the
darkness, support a huge ceiling, above which and, as it were, crushing it, appears
the enormous mass of the mountain. The walls are covered with lofty figures in
relief, whose fantastic forms add to the mysterious effect of this subterranean hall.
The soul feels itself at once transported back to those great epochs when the
people carved out for themselves such sanctuaries; and the imagination fills this
deserted place with priests, clad in shining robes, engaged in celebrating those
rites at which the multitude assisted with foreheads bowed to the ground. If the
civilised man finds himself so struck with the grandeur and majesty of this place,
with what emotions must the credulous people of antiquity have approached these
caves, the dwelling-place of an implacable deity :

The plan of this excavation is that of a cross with arms of equal length, and
with three facades—one towards the interior, the other two over the lateral
passages. The greatest length of the hall is about forty-eight yards; and the
ceiling is supported by twenty-six columns and sixteen pilasters of about sixteen
or eighteen feet in height, of which nearly half have now disappeared. The heavy
clumsy form of these columns is in strict accordance with the weight they seem
to bear; and their arrangement in long, straight rows is extremely imposing.
The pedestal is square and even, sometimes with chiselled sides, and makes up
half the height of the column ; above it rises a cylindrical shaft, growing slightly
smaller towards the top, and covered with vertical lines—forming a tracery of
network which extends to the fillet of the capitals. The latter are cut in the
form of round cushions, pressed down as by the enormous weight of the architraves
in the shape of beams which pass from column to column, and appear to consti-
tute a framework of timber. The order of these columns is one of the most
beautiful that the Hindoos have ever imagined, and is eminently appropriate to
the architecture of the temple-caves. At the extremity of the majestic colonnade
that leads from the principal gateway is an altar supporting a gigantic bust,
representing a divinity with three heads, two of which are only in profile. This
idol has been for a long time the subject of much discussion among archeologists
—some being disposed to recognise it as Brahma, under the three symbols of
creator, preserver, and destroyer; others claiming, and with reason, to find in it
CAVES OF ELEPHANTA. 45

all the attributes of the god Mahadeo, or Siva, to whom the whole temple appears
to have been consecrated. The latter opinion now no longer admits of the slightest
doubt; for besides the fact that the Hindoos have scarcely a temple to Brahma,
the statues which cover the walls all belong to the worship of Siva. The principal
face of the idol is calm and benevolent, aud, although mutilated, full of expres-
sion; the forehead is covered with a lofty diadem, in the shape of a mitre, adorned
with delicate carvings in imitation of necklaces and trinkets. The figure on the
right expresses rage, the mouth contorted with grimaces, and the eye starting from
its socket ; the mitre is covered with serpents and skulls; and a hand is held out
from the altar, grasping a cobra with its hood extended—an emblem of Siva in
his manifestation as destroyer. The figure on the left is smiling, and holds in his

 

INTERIOR OF GREAT CAVE, ELEPHANTA.

hand a flower. The Indians give this god the name of Trimoorti, or triple idol.
To him the temple is dedicated, and he is the most striking object in it. Seen
from the centre of the principal aisle, which is in front of it, this colossal figure
stands out in bold relief from the obscure depths of the temple, and the vast
niche which it occupies is guarded by gigantic caryatides.

On the right of Trimoorti, and facing one of the lateral passages, is the sanctuary,
the most hallowed spot, in which is placed the lingam, or emblem of Siva. This
is a square chapel with four doorways, and contains a small chamber, in the
centre of which stands aloft the adored symbol. The latter cousists of a stone
pillar, rounded at the top, and placed upon another stone of a circular form,
called yoni, having a small trench round it to carry off the water with which the
de INDIA.

faithful besprinkle it. The lingam represents Siva in his mysterious emblem of
generation, and the yoni in that of reproduction. The Brahmins, rejecting every
evil interpretation of these symbols, see only the principles of Nature personified
in their various attributes. To the eyes of the common people the lingam
represents Siva, and the yoni his wife Parvati. This chapel is, in fact, the true
temple where prayers are offered up and oblations made, while the immense
chamber which surrounds it is merely a magnificent accessory. The bas-reliefs
which adorn the walls of the cave represent all the acts of the fabulous life of the
god Siva and his various incarnations. Although executed with much talent and
taste, these sculptures, nevertheless, are too often carelessly done, and the pro-
portions not correctly observed ; the grouping of the figures, moreover, is not
always very happy, and errs on the same side as the Gothic sculptures—that is
to say, we have a whimsical assembly of gigantic deities or saints together with
human beings reduced to a most diminutive scale. ‘The stone on which they are
carved being a spongy sandstone, the moisture has effaced very many of the
details; and the Portuguese have assisted the hand of time with their fanatical
nutilations. It is still easy, however, to follow the subjects with which the fertile
imagination of the ancient sculptor has covered the wall. Siva and Parvati are
represented in the most diverse attitudes ; sometimes sitting together in Kailas,
or embracing one another in the most loving manner; sometimes surrounded by
all the divinities of the Hindoo Olympus, who are engaged in paying them
homage. Their marriage, the birth of Ganésa, the sacrifice of Daksha, and a
thousand other scenes of Saiva mythology, fill the vast panels that lie between
the pilasters. A minute description of them, however interesting it might be,
has been so often given by my predecessors that I will not attempt it. Attentive
observation of all the details, comprising the vestments, and head-dresses of
various persons, the ornaments they wear, the type of the figures, and the
exaggerated representations of certain parts of the body, teaches us a great deal
respecting the customs and the esthetic notions prevalent in those far-distant
ages. This immense temple has been entirely carved out of the mountain-rock ;
chambers, ceilings, columns, and statues all form part of the natural mass. If the
stone composing it had been hard and resisting, it is probable that it would have
lasted, one might say, for ever in its primitive state; but, unhappily, it is of a
yellowish sandstone, which, though of a sufficiently fine grain and great hardness
to the chisel, is easily attacked by moisture. Therefore, the columns whose
surfaces are the most exposed have been gradually worn away by the water
which infiltrates through the vaulted roof or accumulates in the hall during the
rainy season; several have lost their pedestals, and sometimes even part of the
shaft, and hang from the ceiling like enormous stalactites. On the sides of the
lateral passages landslips have occurred, and the facades are greatly damaged.
The passage on the right contains another chapel of the lingam, and also a large
pool filled with very pure water, which, at a certain distance, disappears horizon-
tally in the rock. On the opposite side is another passage in the form of a shaft,
receiving the light from a high opening in the mountain-side, which is now
obscured by creepers and some trees whose branches are entwined above. One of
the sides of this passage is taken up by a chapel, surrounded by a verandah on
columns, and in front of which two lions of basalt have been placed, which were
discovered in clearing away the débris of ancient landslips. Some parts of the
ry

CAVES OF ELEPHANTA., 47

ceiling and walls of the great hall still show traces of colour ; which prove that
all the interior was decorated with paintings. It is difficult to form a just idea
of the effect these monuments must have produced, when to the beauty and rich-
ness of the sculpture there was added all the splendour of the decoration. The
statues painted in lively colours, the golden ornaments, the ceilings and the
columns covered with roses and garlands of tlowers, enhanced, by the light of
torches and lamps, the beauty of these vast and mysterious halls. This magnificent
temple has been abandoned for more than three centuries; and although they still
hold a small annual fair, during which the great emblem is covered with flowers
and adored, the Hindoos consider that it has lost all its sanctity. It is probable
that the Mussulmans or the Portuguese in some of their invasions profaned the
idols, and caused the abandonment of their shrine. The Portuguese distinguished
themselves here by shameful Vandalism, mutilating the statues, throwing down
the columns, and, according to their own account, erasing the inscriptions. This
last act is most to be regretted, because it compels us to remain in uncertainty as
to the time when this immense excavation was effected. A great many people,
comparing these works with the vaults cut in the rocks of Nubia, have imagined
they discovered in their solemn grandeur, in the imposing majesty of the arrange-
ment, and in the shape of the columns, ornaments, and idols, a striking resemblance
to the Egyptian architecture. Unhappily, though this theory may not be entirely
false, since there exist, in fact, many points of similarity between the Egyptian
style and the Indian excavations of the highest antiquity, the caves of Elephanta
are about the last that have been made in this country, and consequently, without
doubt, do not date further back than the ninth century of our era.

I remained all day in the temple to take note of the bas-reliefs; and, my
servants having brought the cooking utensils and the luggage, I preferred to pass
the night there to returning on board the bunder-boat. At night, when my lamp
was lighted, I hung my hammock between two columns and retired to rest. My
servants, whom the coolness of the cave made shiver, huddled together round a
large fire heaped up at the feet of Trimoorti; the tall flames from which lighted
up the centre of the hall and made the genii and monsters appear to be engaged
in fantastic dances among the flickering shadows of the colonnades, whilst the
rest of the interior, plunged in impenetrable gloom, gave the appearance of
mysterious immensity. What a scene for the painter was there in these half-
naked men, with the livid light of the flames playing upon them, in the midst of
such surroundings !
CHAPTER IV.
SALSETTE.

Tannah.—The Portuguese.—ToolsiiThe Buddhists’ Caves of Kenhari—The Great Temple.—
A supposed Manichean Inscription—Chaityas.—Age of the Caves.—The Durbar Cave.—
Viharas,—The Peepul.—Natives of Salsette.—The Caves of Monpezir.—Spotted Deer,—
Ruins of an Establishment of Jesuits.—Magatani.—Jageysar.— Mahim.

CHE extremity of the Bombay harbour goes on narrowing itself
among the islands until the sea, becoming an area of insignifi-
cant width, forms the T'annah River, which separates the island
of Salsette from the continent. The banks of this river, which
is supplied chiefly by the sea, form one of the most beautiful
+> and most picturesque scenes to be found in this favoured
archipelago. At its mouth rises the lofty and barren island of Trombay, the
tallest peak of which measures no less than nine hundred feet; after passing this
island, we glide pleasantly over deep and smooth waters, between richly wooded
hills and crags. The landscape varies every moment. Sometimes we skirt those
vast swamps covered with high grass, to which Bombay owes its pernicious
climate, or pass beneath black rocks, piled one upon another, over which creeping
plants spread a light mantle of verdure; sometimes the ruins of a Portuguese
fortress stand out in the midst of a wood of cocoa-nut trees, or a little village of
huts formed of branches is seen in the recess of some small creek. The passage
from Elephanta to Tannah, the principal town in the island of Salsette, is about
fifteen or sixteen miles, and took us nearly three hours. In front of the town,
the river narrows considerably, and the two banks are connected by a fine bridge,
which supphes both a railway and a carriage road. In the middle there is a
small island, covered with the ruins of the ancient stone bridge constructed by
the Portuguese, and the battlemented towers that commanded the passage. ‘The
town, with its lofty Indian houses and its massive prison reflected in the water,
produces a very fine effect. In the background rise the lofty peaks of the
mountain-chain that stretches across the island from north to south, and covers it
with its ramifications.

I landed on the bank, with all my belongings; and, having discharged the
bunder-boat, I made my way towards a little Portuguese hotel, where I found my
attendants, whom I had sent on from Bombay with the horses and tents, which
I required for the work of exploring the interior of Salsette.

Tannah is a place of some antiquity, and was of very considerable import-
ance at the time of the occupation of the island by the Portuguese; and, during

 

 
KENHARI. 49

their long dominion, it became the capital of this colony, which, as everything
testifies, attained a high degree of prosperity and civilisation. Indeed, if we may
believe the accounts of that period, its environs were covered with the gardens
and magnificent residences of rich merchants. The conquest of the island by the
Mahrattas in 1737 utterly destroyed it§ brilliant future; and, although held by
the English since 1774, Salsette has never reached the limit of its past splendour.
Tannah itself is still, at the present day, a very fine large town, containing some
twenty thousand souls. There is nothing absolutely curious to see at Tannah,
except, perhaps, the prison, which contains a great number of inmates, and where
very beautiful cotton stuffs, highly valued at Bombay and in the province, are
produced. The system of discipline appears excellent, and guards against hurting
the religious prejudices of men comprising so many different castes and creeds.

At only a very short distance from this town are the caves of Kenhari, the
principal group of those ancient excavations which are scattered over nearly the
whole extent of the island. These temple-caves form one of the most complete
collections of the superb works with which the Buddhists covered the whole of
‘Western and Central India. They are situated nearly in the centre of the chain
of mountains, and about six miles from Tannah. The traveller who is desirous
of visiting these renowned monuments must, however, fortify himself for this little
expedition as though for the longest journey. He must take with him tents,
beds, provisions, servants, and a cook, if he would not lie in the open air and die
of hunger. As soon, therefore, as I arrived at Tannah I sent on my servants and
baggage in advance, with orders to pitch my camp near the little village of Toolsi;
which had been recommended to me, not only as being nearest to the caves, but
also as being in a very beautiful situation, and capable of furnishing daily pro-
vision for my suite. Next morning I set off on horseback, accompanied by my
faithful Latchman. At a little distance from the town the road enters the jungle,
and becomes merely a narrow path, covered with grass, and bordered with brush-
wood. The farther we advance, the more attractive becomes the country. At
first, there are beautiful valleys, sprinkled over with numerous thickets of mango
and banyan, and formed by hills of no great height; but soon the vegetation
becomes more spontaneous, the fruit-trees disappear and give place to acacias,
willows, and all the other natural products of the forest in that country; the
mountains rise higher, the valleys shrink into narrow ravines, and the traveller
finds himself in the midst of a scene of grand and savage beauty. What is the
most remarkable at this season, that is to say, in the months of September and
October, is the vividness and freshness of the foliage of the trees and of the grass,
which together give to the whole landscape a green tinge, very beautiful, it is
true, but somewhat too uniform, This grass, short and smooth, like that of our
lawns, entirely covers the ground, and even the rocks; but it is of brief duration,
and cannot resist the heat of the sun for more than a few days after the rains.
At every turn of the road the mountains approach each other more closely, and
eventually the village of Toolsi appears, in a circular valley, surrounded by an
amphitheatre of wooded heights, one of which rises above the rest, its summit
pare and rocky; this is Kenhari. I find my tent pitched in a charming spot,
under the shade of a fine banyan, forming an islet of verdure in the centre of the
glade. The heat is still insupportable, at the time of my arrival; and the atmo-

sphere of the little valley, heated by the glancing of the sun’s rays upon the rocks,
D
is INDIA.

and sheltered from the sea breezes, is really suffocating. The tents used in Indian
travel are so constructed as to be always cool; and with this object they are
generally double—a small tent placed within a larger. They have likewise a
verandah which protects the sides of the apartment, and a roofing upon which the
sun has no effect. The mountain in which these caves are found lies north and
south; and the caves in question are cut in its western side. They are disposed
in several rows and storeys, forming a subterranean city in the rocks. Ata short

 

THE HILL OF KENHARI.

distance from my encampment I found the path that leads to the excavations.
The ascent is tedious and difficult; the soil, covered with flints and rounded
agates, is most fatiguing to traverse. The base of the mountain we have to climb
is 80 thickly covered with vegetation that nothing can be seen of the caves up to
the moment when one comes upon a platform, cut out of the mountain-side, upon
which the fiyst looks out. This, the most modern of those of Kenhari, is
unfinished, so that it displays little of any interest; nevertheless it produces, at
THE TEMPLE OF KENHARI. "ei

first sight, a remarkable effect. Belonging to the class of the Buddhist Chaityas,
the architecture of which has nothing resembling the caves already described, it
has the advantage of a monumental facade. A porch supported by columns, and
two antechambers, together with the commencement of the nave, are all that have
been cut out. The columns of the porch are of the same order as those on the
island of Elephanta, and this refers the approximate date of the excavation to
the tenth century. Some invasion or some religious war forced the workmen to
abandon their labours for urgent reasons; and, the founders having lost all their
power, the cave was abandoned at the point where we see it to-day. It has
neither bas-reliefs nor inscriptions. From this cave we pass to a long series of
small cells and apartments containing doghopas, which offer nothing curious for
the traveller's inspection, although most important for the study of the archeolo-
gist, and reach the great Chaitya cave. In front of the facade, which is deeply
sunk in the mountain-side, is a court cut in the rock, and closed in, on the
outside, by a long balustrade, which forms also part of the natural mass. The
irregularity in the sides of the court, formed by the presence of the neighbouring
monastery, whose sanctity doubtless sheltered it from appropriation, somewhat
injures the general effect, which is, in other respects, very grand. At the bottom
of the court, the temple, with its exterior front smooth and pierced with three
square doorways, and five windows on the upper storey, and on each side a high
sthamba, rests against the perpendicular wall of rocks. These sthambas are imita-
tions of the columns or /d¢s which the Buddhists always erected at the entrance
of their temples. Those of the Chaitya of Kenhari are polygonal, and about
eleven feet high. The sthamba on the right supports a group of three lions lying
down, and at the base is a statue of Buddha seated, with his legs crossed, and his
head wreathed round with serpents, or nagas; that on the left displays a group
of dwarf figures. As I have already said, the facade of the temple is bare: but,
on close examination, numerous square holes may be seen, which must have
served to support the balconies and wooden ornaments which, brilliantly painted
and decorated, amply supplied the place of sculptures; of these there remains
not the slightest trace at the present time. The dimensions of the facade are
about forty feet long and fifty high. Passing through one of the doors, which
are plain and of coarse workmanship, we enter the vestibule of the temple, which
is of the same height as the facade, and which occasions the more astonishment
because its richness affords a great contrast to the simplicity of the exterior.
Fach of the extremities of this long and narrow chamber is occupied by a colossal
standing figure of Buddha. These statues, which are no less than nine feet high,
represent the deified philosopher in the attitude of benediction. THe is clad in
a long, floating robe, which, nevertheless, completely displays all the outlines of
the body. His right arm is raised, and the hand, half closed, appears to be in
the act of blessing; whilst the left arm presents the hand open, as a proof of
kindness and goodwill. The face is calm and thoughtful; the ears have their
lobes hanging down to the shoulders, and the crisped hair forms a diadem upon
the head. The posture of the idol, rather leaning upon one leg and the knees
slightly bent, is easy, and without the stiffness commonly found in these statues ;
and, although the proportions are somewhat at fault, the whole bears an expres-
sion of grandeur and calm which one cannot but admire. Above the head is
a tangled mass of ornaments, supported by the pilasters, which forms a rich and
Be INDIA.

original framework. The statue on the left bears an inscription, consisting of
certain letters in Roman characters, accompanied by the date 78 and a cross,
which has given rise to many theories on the part of archeologists. Some, con-
sidering that this date, from its antiquity, cannot be connected with the occupation
of the island by the Portuguese, fancy they see here a proof of the introduction of
primitive Christianity at a very remote epoch into India, and of its fusion with
the existing religion of the country. Others, denying the possibility of this
hypothesis, pretend that the characters have been the work of the Portuguese
themselves, who had, for a brief period, transformed this temple into a Christian
church. In my opinion, although the first of these theories is apparently the
most difficult to sustain, it does not seem altogether destitute of foundation,
seeing that it is pretty clearly established at the present day that the sect of
Manichean Christians very early attained a certain degree of influence, and
rapidly effected a fusion with the Buddhists, whose religion, in the main, differed
very little from their own. As for the authenticity of the inscription, it is up to the
present time impossible to establish it. The wall which separates the vestibule
from the interior of the temple has three doorways corresponding with those in
the facade; and above the principal entrance is an enormous arched window
which reaches nearly to the ceiling. The walls between the doorways are
covered with groups of tall statues in relief, very inferior in execution to the
colossal figures in the aisles. They are figures of Buddha in different attitudes,
and of nearly naked women of exaggerated proportions. The wall on either side
of the window is without ornament, or presents only a few sculptures of
insignificant character, and placed at random. ‘The door in the middle opens
into the great hall of the temple, whose high-arched roof and its extremity
rounded like a Gothic apse give it the appearance of a Christian cathedral.
This hall is about eighty-two feet in length, by forty in breadth, and fifty in
height. These dimensions are still more astounding in reality than they appear in
figures, when one takes into consideration the immense labour that the excavation
of such a mass of stone must have cost, at a time when gunpowder had not been
invented, so that the rock had to be overcome with pickaxe and hammer. The
hall is surrounded by a row of columns which support the roof, and form, with
the opposite walls of rock, two long and narrow aisles, joining together behind the
altar, and abutting upon the side doanraye of the vestibule.

The roof, whose form is nearly ogival, was covered in the.interior with ribs of
wood in imitation of timber-work. The beams, for the most part, have disappeared,
but their traces are still visible in the stone. At the extremity of the nave rises
a vast altar sixteen or seventeen feet high, representing the daghoba, or reliquary,
which the Buddhists always placed in their temples or in close proximity to them.
It is in the form of a hemispherical dome, placed on a cylindrical base, and bearing
on the summit a pedestal or capital on which the venerated emblem once stood.
The light, which is admitted through the great window in the facade, falls directly
upon this altar, which it illumines brilliantly, whilst it leaves the rest of the hall
in the shade; and the effect thus produced in this subterranean nave makes it one
of the most imposing temples that the imagination of man has ever conceived. The
columns, of octagonal form, with heavy bases, and capitals supporting groups of
elephants and persons, receive only a half-light, and daintily contrast with the
complete darkness of the lateral aisles; and the spectator, stationed in the gloom,
*

THE TEMPLE OF KENHARI. 53

sees with astonishment the gigantic altar surrounded by a resplendent and super-
natural light whose source is hidden from him. This idea of concentrating the
light on the most important part of the temple is singularly happy. It produces
a far more impressive effect than the ugskilful distribution of it which some of
our Gothic architects make in their churches.

This temple is one of the most beautiful Buddhist Chaityas in India; but it is
very inferior to those of the Deccan, which I shall have occasion to describe
hereafter.

The Chaityas, which must not be confounded with the other kinds of caves,
are always distinguished by their remarkable general disposition, such as I have
described with reference to Kenhari, and of which the following is a summary :—
A long and lofty nave with ogival roof, terminating in a semicircular apse, in the
form of a choir; two lateral aisles, parallel, but uniting behind the choir; before
the nave a wall with three doorways and an immense horseshoe window; and,
beyond, the great exterior facade, which was generally furnished with wooden
galleries and balconies for the musicians. In all these temples the choir is
occupied by an altar or solid daghoba. The coincidence of this plan with that
of our ancient basilicas is as striking as it is exact. Another most interesting
peculiarity in these excavations is the connection that all the details of their
architecture appear to have with those wooden structures of which they would be
merely the reproductions in the rock. The curved beams of the roof alone would
show how determined the Buddhists were to perpetuate the memory of such an
origin, for they were not only useless, but must have cost considerable trouble to
put up.

The age of the great Chaitya cave of Kenhari has not yet been positively
ascertained. Some archzologists have looked upon it as comparatively modern ;
and they take the imperfections of the sculptures and statues as a ground for
fixing the date of their excavation at the ninth or tenth century ; that is to say,
at the epoch of the degradation of the Buddhist style. However, the thoroughly
primitive execution of the ornamentations, added to the form of the daghoba and
the employment of wood in the interior, leads me, on the contrary, to estimate
this cave as amongst the most ancient; and I even think that it would be an
error to trace its origin back merely to the third century of our era.

After leaving the temple, I continued my journey towards the north, and soon
found, at a little distance, a long flight of steps rudely cut out amongst the rocks,
and skirting a deep ravine. The perpendicular walls that hem it in contain
a numerous series of chambers, forming on both sides of this gorge a real
subterranean city. In every direction are seen gloomy doorways opening into
the flank of the mountain, or columns supporting heavy peristyles. The effect is
most extraordinary. A profound silence reigns throughout this abandoned city ;
and the stream which flows along the bottom of the ravine falls from rock to rock
with a dull sound that adds to the savage beauty of the spot. The natives
regarding these caverns as inhabited by demons, the guide who conducts us
advances with caution. The real demons, however, are wild animals, who have
taken advantaye of the labours of the peaceable monks, and find shelter in their
ancient temples. Nearly at the entrance of the ravine, and on the right bank of
the torrent, is a long facade resembling a palace, which has given to this grotto
the name of the “Cave of the Durbar,” or of the Royal Assemblies. The ground-
ae INDIA.

level is formed of shallow niches, above which rises a long verandah, supported by
columns. A staircase outside leads to a great hall, about a hundred feet long by
forty wide, the ceiling of which is supported by a row of columns of rich and
elegant design, arranged all round at a little distance from the wall; the sides are
furnished with cells, and the light is admitted through the great opening of
the balcony. The insignificant height, which does not attain more than ten feet,
injures the appearance of this hall, which otherwise would be a very fine specimen
of the ancient Buddhist Viharas. The columns, although well proportioned,
appear to be crushed down ; and the first impression on entering the cave is that
one could touch the ceiling with one’s hand. In the centre of the wall facing the-
balcony is a niche, richly decorated, and containing an image of Buddha seated,
with the legs crossed. ‘This is. the sanctuary of the monastery. The Buddhist
Viharas are always constructed on the same plan. There is generally a square
apartment, having three of its sides furnished with cells for the monks, and the
fourth entirely open, by which the air and the light find an entrance. Except as
regards the ornaments, the number of columns, and the dimensions, which vary
with the different periods, this general type will serve to identify at once all the
subterranean monasteries excavated by this sect in India.

These Viharas were the residences of the Buddhist monks; and in them were
held the great chapters of the various orders. They contained refectories, and,
in fact, everything necessary for convent life, whilst the Chaitya, properly speak-
ing, was the church, and was only used for the grand religious ceremonies in
which the people were invited to take part. In this arrangement, again, we find
a striking resemblance to the monastic organisation of the first ages of Chris-
tianity. These convents, excavated in the rock, were doubtless, at first, merely
imitations of the caverns in which the earliest ascetics took up their abode, and
became, by slow degrees, vast and sumptuous habitations. The monks soon per-
ceived the advantages they possessed—being cool in summer, warm in winter,
and always dry—over the buildings which, at that time, could not readily be
made to combine all these qualities; and they employed all their fortune and
all their influence to create for themselves everywhere residences so agreeable.
Kenhari alone contains more than a hundred, of all dimensions. On the opposite
side is another great excavation, which, being at a very little height above the
bed of the river, has suffered greatly from the inundations, its columns being
nearly all eaten away, or hanging in shapeless blocks from the roof. Proceeding
up the ravine, we come upon thirty Viharas, communicating wholly by steps cut
in the rocks. Some consist merely of two or three cells, placed in a single line,
and with a portico, supported on columns, in front: others comprise sanctuaries
containing idols and sundry ornaments. A little higher up on the mountain is
another series of caves. These are all Viharas, whose sides are from five-and-
twenty to five-and-thirty feet long, containing very fine sculptures and columns
representing a great variety of orders. Here may be seen also the traces of
frescoes, which show that these caves were painted in the interior; but the
remains are too slight to allow of an opinion being formed as to their artistic
value.

Kenhari, as now seen, is interesting, not only on account of the great number
of its curious Buddhist excavations, but also because it presents very beautiful
examples of different styles, and thus allows the traveller who has no time to
SPOTTED DEER. 55

explore the wonders of Ellora and Ajunta to gain an exact idea of the celebrated
Chaityas and Viharas. The epoch during which these gigantic works were
executed cannot be fixed precisely. All that can be said, without entering into
a more particular description, is that the most ancient caves, beyond all doubt,
belong to the first century before Christ, and the most recent are of the same
age as the great Chaitya cave.

Near to the last-mentioned group of Viharas is a long and broad terrace, cut
out of the rock, from which a splendid view of the surrounding country may be
enjoyed. On all sides rise mountains, with serrated peaks, and sides furrowed with
deep ravines. The narrow valleys are encumbered with a dark and perennial vegeta-
tion, disclosing the presence of springs ; and in the far distance the horizon is formed
by the straight and regular lines of the terraces of the Thull Ghaut mountains.

The atmosphere of the island, perpetually saturated with moisture derived
from the neighbouring marshes, gives to the foliage a remarkable vividness of
hue. To this cause also it is owing that the peepul-tree attains here an extra-
ordinary degree of development. It grows everywhere—on the most arid rocks,
and even on the walls, which it covers with its roots. Some of them in the
valleys are of a gigantic size, in respect both to the extent of the branches and
the height and girth of the trunk. The latter is covered with a bark which,
together with its glossy and pointed leaves, gives this tree some little resem-
blance to our plane-trees. The fruit is very small, and grows in bunches on the

, trunk or the branches.

I spent some days encamped at the village of Toolsi, but, notwithstanding
the longing I had for a tiger-hunt, I did not succeed in finding a single one.
The villages of Salsette are as miserable as can possibly be imagined. The huts,
rudely constructed and roofed with thatch, are dirty and poverty-stricken; as for
the inhabitants, they get their living principally by making charcoal. They are
not a hivh-caste race, are of muscular frames, though generally lean, and seldom
handsome. Their dress is of the simplest description, consisting of a narrow
bandage about the loins and a turban of the minutest dimensions.

From Kenhari I proceeded with my camp to the caves of Monpezir, which
are about seven miles distant from Toolsi. For this purpose I had to traverse
the whole northern portion of the island, until within a little distance of the
west coast; and I have rarely enjoyed a more beautiful spectacle than that of
the forests and wild gorges which cover the central region. There being no
roads, the traveller is obliged to follow a narrow, stony path, which sometimes
leads to the summit of a mountain, sometimes loses itself in the dry bed of a
deep watercourse. These ravines are nearly always filled with tall grass, in
which the smaller kinds of game abound; quails, partridges, and hares are found
there in considerable numbers. But, to say nothing of a much more noble kind
of game, the tiger and the panther, which inhabit these thickets, some spotted
deer are also found, which afford excellent sport. It is a graceful animal. It
prefers to live in the ravines, especially during the hot season, and does not
descend into the plain, except in quest of water. I fell in with several herds of
them during my journey, but it was with great difficulty that I succeeded in
bringing one of them down. ‘The females browsed on the high ground, and the
males courteously stood sentinel. No sooner did they perceive me than the
signal was given, and the whole troop went bounding away. In order to come
56 INDIA.

within gunshot of them, I had to steal from bush to bush for more than half an
hour; but at length one of the sentinels paid with his life for the ramble he had
made me take.

The caves of Monpezir are situated on the side of a beautiful hill, above
which rise the ruined walls of a church and of a convent of Portuguese Jesuits,
The church, whose sunken roofing encumbers nearly the whole of the interior,
forms a picturesque object beneath its mantle of ivy and convolvulus. The
sacred peepul of the Hindoos grows in all the crevices and on the walls of the
Christian temple. Beneath the church is the principal cave of this group, a
very interesting Brahminical excavation, and in the style of Elephanta; indeed,
the columns and the subjects are nearly identical.

From the summit of the hill the view extends over a charming bay, enclosed
between the picturesque promontory of Gora Bundur and the beautiful island of
Dravi. The channel opening into the sea is so narrow that the surface of this bay
is as calm and smoothasa lake. The shores are covered with innumerable cocoa-
nut and tara palm-trees, which, together with some rice plantations, constitute
the entire wealth of the poor villages on this coast.

Some miles to the south of Monpezir is another small group of caves, near the
village of Magatani; but they are so covered with brushwood and worn away by
the rains that they present no object of curiosity to the ordinary tourist. It is
easy to see, however, that they are of the Vihara or monastic class, and not
temples. One of them displays itself most picturesquely, behind a screen of
creeping plants, and on the edge of a small pool Next day I was encamped
about seven miles south of Monpezir, near the little village of Amréli' In order
to conclude my exploration of Salsette, it only remained for me to visit the group
of caves of Djageysar. These caves are at the distance of a cdss * from the village,
in the side of a small wooded hill. The approaches are very beautiful, conducting
through a hollow path, above which banyans, interlacing their branches, form a
tunnel of foliage. The excavations of this group are all Hindoo ; and the principal
one is of the same dimensions and the same architecture as the great cave of
Elephanta. The bas-reliefs appear to be inferior in point of execution ; and, the
floor being lower than the ground without, the rains have accumulated a quantity
of water which has wrought much havoc.

It will be seen that Salsette is extremely rich in memorials of antiquity,
and contains, besides the two important groups of Buddhist caves at Kenhari and
Magatani, the beautiful Brahmin caves of Jygeysir and Monpezir. In no part of
India, save at Ajunta, do we find such a juxtaposition of the two rival styles.

This island is connected with its neighbour, Bombay, by a long and broad
causeway across the strait which lies between them. ‘The bay formed by this
important work affords one of the finest points of view in the country. It winds
about, running into the land, by which it seems entirely surrounded ; and, on its
banks, the country-houses of Bandora, Koorla, Riouah, and Mahim spread them-
selves in the midst of beautiful gardens and groves of cocoa-nut palms. I stayed
some days at Mahim, which is situate on the northern extremity of the island of
Bombay, and inspected with curiosity all the remains of the ancient splendour of
this Portuguese town, which was an important port when Bombay was only a

: * An Indian measure of distance, equivalent to two English miles or thereabouts, as a coss varies in
different districts from a mile and a half to two miles and a half.
2

¥UNGLE FEVER. 57

village. It contains a few churches and a great convent, and, although entirely
fallen from its former state of importance, still possesses a considerable population
of Portuguese. Placed at a short distance from the swamps of Salsette, it has
a very bad reputation, its climate being,considered pestilential. I unhappily bad
very early experience of it, and was obliged to return in all haste to Bombay, to
endeavour at once to check an intermittent fever. It suffices, as I am informed,
to remain for some time after sunset under the influence of the land-breeze to be
pretty certainly attacked by the fever. This wind comes charged with all the
miasmata produced by the abundant vegetation which covers the marshes for
many miles, and, before the introduction of quinine, was a fruitful source of fever
and death.
CHAPTER V.

THE KONKAN AND THE GHAUTS.

The Land-wind.—The Valley of the Oolas.—Callian: its ancient splendour.—The Temple of
Ambernath. — Sanatoria, — Matheran. — The Jungli-wallahs. — Jugglers and Acrobats.—
Khandallah.—The Railway over the Ghauts.—The Caves of Karlii—Encounter with a
Tiger.

 

RETURNED to Bombay a prey to jungle fever, which brought
me very near to death’s door. I was the victim of that
treacherous wind, charged with pestilential miasmata, which
the English call “land-wind.” I did not completely recover
from this attack until about the beginning of December, when,
fearing a relapse, I resolved, before entering the district of
Rajpootalta, to make a hasty excursion into Kandeish, an expedition from which
I should derive a twofold advantage. It would enable’ me to effect my
acclimatisation in a part of the country which still afforded ready means of
communication, and then to visit all the subterranean monuments of Karli,
Ellora, and Ajunta.

On the roth of December I took train by the Great Indian Peninsula
Railway, which unites Bombay with the Deccan, and which has since been
prolonged to Calcutta. On leaving the island it crosses Salsette, and comes
out on the mainland opposite Tannak The narrow belt of land shut in between
the western side of the Ghauts and the sea is not more than about thirty miles
wide at this point, and forms the southern boundary of the Konkan, one of the
most beautiful but least productive districts of India.

The Ghauts carry their ramifications down to the sea, and thus form small
valleys, covered with a magnificent natural vegetation, but of little use for
agriculture. Of these valleys, that along which the railway runs is one of the
most remarkable. Numerous rice plantations run down to the very brink of the
pretty river Oolas; and the villages, though of miserable construction, are large,
and coquettishly situated near woods or on gently elevated hillocks.

The Oolas, the principal river of the country, is that of which the group of
islands of Bombay forms the delta; it is navigable for a short distance by vessels
of small tonnage. On its bank, Callian, the ancient capital of the Konkan, was
for a long time one of the first commercial ports on this coast, and probably held
intercourse with the Greeks. The great dynasty of the Solduki raised it to a
degree of splendour and celebrity of which tradition has preserved the memory.
Its palaces and its monuments were themes for the songs of the poets, one of
whom, in the “Ratan Mala,” a great poem of the seventh century, exclaims,

 

 

 

 
SANATORIUM OF MATHERAN. 59

“The sun passes alternately six months of the year in the north and six months
in the south, with the sole object of being able to compare the marvellous capital
of Ceylon with the superb city of Callian.”

Little of all its ancient grandemr is left to this famous city, which is reduced
to the position of the chief town of an English province. Its bazaars are narrow
and tortuous, and devoid of interest ; but its environs are covered with the ruins
of palaces and temples of great antiquity, and merit attentive investigation on the
part of archeologists. I stayed some days, which I spent in visiting all these
monuments.

One of the most curious is the great temple of Ambernath, which, although in
almost complete ruins, is still an imposing structure. The exterior is covered with
minute sculptures, executed with the delicate finish which the Hindoos bestow on
their masterpieces ; and on one of its sides are two elegant columns, supporting a
handsome portico. No description could give an accurate idea of all the beauty
of a style which bears no resemblance to anything of the kind known in Europe.
It is only when one has the carving before one’s eyes that it is possible to
appreciate the delicacy and the fertility of invention displayed by the sculptor in
this monument.

The country all around is covered with ruins. Carved lintels, bas-reliefs, or
fragments of columns lie half hidden in the long jungle-grass—ample materials
for a museum of Hindoo antiquities.

On the 15th of the same month I left Callian for the Narel station, the
nearest point to the famous Sanatorium of Matheran. Nearly all the maladies
peculiar to the climate of India yield, in the majority of cases, to a change of
temperature, and in particular to the cool air of the tablelands of the Ghauts,
which attain an average elevation of 1500 to 2000 feet. The English have
therefore established, on several of these tablelands, sanatoria, to which persons
enfeebled by the disorders incident to the heat of the plains come to recruit their
energies in a purer atmosphere. Barracks have been constructed there for invalid
soldiers, and many of the merchants and well-to-do inhabitants of Bombay have
villas, where their wives and children pass the hot season, and to which they
themselves come on all the festival days, to gather fresh strength from the
mountain air. Palanquins and “tattoos” (small ponies) are in waiting at
Narel, by means of either of which the traveller may easily reach the summit
of Matheran.

On leaving the station a crowd of noisy tattoo-wallahs came to offer me their
services; and, having chosen the animal that appeared to be in best condition, I
mounted and commenced my ascent. Night was drawing on, and the mountain-top
was purple with the last rays of the setting sun; but, as the moon was then at
her full, I did not hesitate to enter the gorges that open behind Narel, trusting
to the mild light of the satellite to guide me on my way. To the height of
nearly 1500 feet the rock forms a perpendicular wall, which seems inaccessible,
and rests on elevated basements, radiating in every direction over the plain. The
mountain is entirely isolated from the remainder of the chain of the Ghauts, and
looks like a vast island of between nine and ten miles long, by one and a half
or two miles broad. Its summit, which forms a long horizontal tableland, is
nowhere more than 2000 feet in height. A very good road rises zigzag up its
northern face, but it is too steep to allow of carriages being used in the ascent.
60 INDIA.

I soon found myself in the midst of a fine forest of teak, which covered the
whole outline of the mountain basements. Most of the trees had already lost
their foliage, or retained only a few withered leaves. Lofty plane-trees, with
their whitish trunks and curved boughs, were massed together at the brink of the
precipice; and here and there a silk-tree spread out its arms, dry and spinous,
bearing long white flakes. The Indian who was acting as my guide had gone on
in front, assuring me that there was only one road, and that I could run no risk
of losing my way; and I remained alone with my miserable steed, which, in spite
of all my protests in every shape, refused to break into a gallop. Thus at the
end of an hour I reached the first tableland, my pony stumbling every moment,
and I had already serious thoughts of abandoning him and continuing my ascent
on foot, when the moon rose in all her splendour; and the brightness giving
courage to my steed, he suddenly set off at a gallop.

The forest was intersected with glades, which allowed me to see, from time
to time, the tangled array of ravines and hills which I was going to traverse. My
rapid course in the midst of this solitude savoured of the fantastic. The wind was
blowing among the trees; a thousand rumbling noises resounded on the mountain;
and the vivid light of the tropical moon brought out in strong relief all the details
of the surrounding landscape. At the foot of the steps which, staircase-like, climb
the perpendicular flank of the principal mass, I pulled up my pony; and, dis-
mounting, I walked on, leading him by the bridle. The road, narrow and cut out
of the rock, was continually turning this way or that, bringing me sometimes in
view of the plain, which beneath the light of the moon resembled a vast Jake,
sometimes among the gloomy recesses of the precipices. In some places extensive
landslips had formed a steep declivity, covered with a thick growth of forest-trees,
rising from the bottom of the ravines to the summit; and here and there rills of
spring-water followed the road for a moment, and then bounded into space. The
higher I climbed, the sharper and more agreeable became the cold. At last I
reached the upper tableland, and rested for an instant at a chowkey—a small
police-station. Here the transition is abrupt. You feel that you have entered a
region entirely different from that you have left; for whilst the vegetation on the
sides of the mountain is still purely tropical, that which covers the summit is of
a wholly European aspect. One might believe oneself in a well-kept park; the
thickets are bushy, and the trees gracefully formed and arranged in groups, while
the air is cool and embalmed by thousands of flowers. A beautiful road, spread
with gravel like a garden alley, running for several miles through the forest,
brought me at last to the bazaar, a long row of native stalls in the midst of a
glade; and the hotel was pointed out to me, which I found to be a small and
very clean house, kept by a Portuguese baker. My four hours’ journey from Narel
to this spot had fatigued me. I was happy to find, therefore, for the first time
since my arrival in India, a good bed without a mosquito-net, and with woollen
coverings which the cold made me find very agreeable. Next morning I went out
at an early hour to visit the different points of view, the beauty of which I had
so many times heard vaunted. A light mist covering the forest, and the leaves,
whitened by an abundant dew, recalled memories of Barone: A mountaineer was
waiting for me at the door with a horse. I was soon in the saddle, and followed
my guide, who preceded me at a trot. The houses of the Europeans, substantially
built of red stone, crowned every height; alleys ran in every direction, opening
MATHERAN. : 61

out superb vistas. One of the points of the mountain, Louisa Point, terminates
abruptly, and forms an immense precipice, at the bottom of which enormous rocks,
owing to the fall of a landslip through the infiltrations of the rains, makes a
sublime scene of chaos. At my feet stretched the whole Konkan down to the
sea, which glittered in the sun. Bombay and its islands looked like dark points
surrounded by silvery lines. The plain appeared parched and bare, and the
watercourses by which it is furrowed were clearly defined by the green “lines of
the trees bordering them, while here and there small villages, surrounded by
plantations of rice, lent some little animation to the desert tract. Nearly in front
of me rose an isolated mountain, which my guide informed me was Mount Parbul,
and which is plainly visible from Bombay ; an enormous gulf, more than two
miles wide, separated me from its level summit, which is at the same elevation
as the spot whereon I stood. Pretty roads that go all round the tableland of
Matheran extend along by the edge of the precipice, and display a richly varied
panorama. The salient points of the mountain are marked off by them like the
angles of a fortress,and so furnish magnificent foregrounds of rocks and forests
at their several points of view. Far from being completely level, the ground is
decidedly undulating, and forms, even on the summit of Matheran, small valleys
and peaks.

It is inconceivable with what rapidity this pure atmosphere, the coolness of
the mornings, and the long rides on horseback, act upon frames debilitated by
the fevers or the heats of the plain. After a few days one feels completely
revived; appetite and sleep return, and one is able to undergo fatigues that
might prove fatal at Bombay. It is not many years since Matheran first became
known to Europeans; and its discovery has preserved many a useful life.

The aboriginal inhabitants of these mountains, whom the Indians contemp-
tuously designate as jungli-wallahs, or savages, present some interesting and
generally little-known peculiarities. They are large-made and strong, and they
have lengthy arms and legs, and countenances with high cheek-bones and flat
noses. They go nearly naked, and even their women have usually no other
covering than a scanty piece of linen about the loins. Their huts are round, and
ingeniously constructed of bamboos intertwined and coated over with loam.
Their religion has no connection with Brahminism. Their temples are merely
heaps of stones painted with red ochre. A tradition exists amongst them,
according to which the founder of their race was no other than the demon and
king Ravana, who was vanquished by Rama. This goes to show that they are
the descendants of those aboriginals who were driven back into the mountains by
the great Hindoo invasion. The presence of Europeans has somewhat civilised
them, and a great number at the present day supply the bazaar with firewood
and chickens, which they rear in considerable quantities. I had occasion to
employ several of them to beat the brushwood and to secure the game when I
was out shooting, and I observed that kind treatment rendered them amiable,
gay, and very serviceable. They are very artless, laugh at everything, and are
not deficient in courage. They are passionately fond of tobacco and spirituous
liquors, which the Parsees give them at the bazaars in exchange for their
products.

Matheran is also the rendezvous of tribes of jugglers, who may best be
compared to our gipsies. They assemble during the season on the tableland,
62 : INDIA.

and perform their tricks from one bungalow to another. Some of them are very
skilful, and excel in jugglery. Almost entirely naked, and in the middle of your
room, they will make a serpent disappear, a tree grow and bring forth fruit, or
water flow from an apparently empty vase. Others will swallow a sabre, or
play tricks with sharp knives.
Each has his special accom-
plishment. Conjurers, acrobats,
exhibitors of feats of strength,
&c., form a subtle and crafty
tribe, despised but feared by
the common people, and some-
times powerful. They receive
here a considerable amount of
money, especially from thie
European tourists. One of
their most. curious tricks is
that of the basket and child.
A child of seven or eight years
old, standing upright in the
basket, writhes in convulsions
under the influence of music,
and disappears slowly into the
interior, which is barely large
enough to contain it. Scarcely
is it inside when the musicians
throw themselves upon it, close
the lid, and pierce the basket
in every direction with their
long knives. They strike with
all their might, until, the
bamboo giving way, the basket
is almost completely flattened,
and seems no longer capable
of containing anything. They
then re-form the circle and
resume their chant; to which
a voice now responds from
the forest. The sound gradu-
ally approaches, and at last
seems to come from the basket,
which becomes more and more
INHABITANT OF THE MATHERAN RANGE, WESTERN GHAUTS. distended; the lid is removed
and the child springs out.
This trick is very adroitly performed, and, though capable of being explained
to Europeans, excites lively astonishment in the Indian spectators.
The top trick is likewise very curious. The juggler gives a vigorous
impulse to the top, which he places on the top of a small stick balanced on
his nose; then, according to the request of the spectator, the top suddenly stops,

 
THE GHAUTS. 63

or again goes on spinning. This last part of the operation appears to me by
far the most extraordinary. That the top should stop is intelligible; but that it
should afterwards continue to revolve, without any new impetus, and perform these
alternate manceuvres for several seconds, is the inexplicable point. I attentively
examined both the stick and the top, but could discover no trace of mechanical
contrivance.

These jugglers have a number of secret artifices of this description, which gain
them, amongst the Indians, a reputation for sorcery that proves very advantageous.
The acrobats go through all the feats familiar to Europeans at home, such as
swinging on the trapeze, climbing and balancing poles, &c, but that which
consists in receiving on the shoulder a ball of stone of great weivht dropped from
a very considerable height, without the juggler appearing at all hurt, was as yet
unknown to me, and I thought it most astonishing.

The finest view to be obtained from Matheran is that which is commanded from
the point called that of the Panorama. Before the spectator rises the chain of
Bao Mallim, the crest of which, bare and jagged, appears to be crowned with
innumerable strong castles, with towers and belfries; and in the distance, on
the other side of a vast plain covered with forests and rivers and sprinkled over
with villages, extends the long line of the Thull Ghauts, with their terraces,
straight and perfectly horizontal, up to the summit, resembling a gigantic
rampart. On another side, the sea and the islands, with the rich vegetation
along the coast, complete the magnificence of this panorama.

Some friends had come from Bombay to visit me; and with them I enjoyed
many charming excursions and shooting expeditions in the ravines surrounding
the base of Matheran. We thus visited, amongst others, Mount Bao Mallim,
whose highest peak is surmounted by an ancient fortress, nowadays inaccessible.
A narrow staircase, of two or three hundred steps cut externally in the rock, led
to the principal gate, and the ascent was often rendered very dangerous through
the force of the wind and the want of a handrail.

From Matheran I proceeded to Kampouli, at the foot of the Ghauts, in
order to pass the defile of the Bhore Ghaut. The railway, thanks to the
immense labour bestowed upon it, now goes direct from Bombay to Poonah,
ascends the mountains by stages, and penetrates them through tunnels; but an
insignificant gap in the line at this spot compelled us to adopt the ancient
system of locomotion. We had therefore to procure at Kampouli palanquins
and bearers, in order to reach the summit of the mountain. The Ghauts are
the edges of the great tableland of the Deccan, and consequently consist only
of one rugged side, facing west. Their name is no other than the Hindoo word
ghaut, or quay, and is singularly appropriate, for these mountains form, all along
by the sea, an unbroken wall, having, at distant intervals, defiles, which the
Hindoos also call ghauts—stairs descending to the seashore. The village of
Kampouli is prettily situated on a low hill, at the entrance of a vast circus,
whose perpendicular sides throw innumerable cascades into the valley below.
The hills are densely covered with jungle; and upon one of them stands a
graceful Hindoo temple, with a lofty pointed spire, and porticos adorned with
columns. The road climbs winding along the mountain-side, and the caravan of
palanquins, conveying all the railway passengers, skirts the brink of the preci-
pices. Night gains upon us when midway up the height, and the cold already
64 7 INDIA.

makes itself felt. Our long line of palanquins, escorted by torch-bearers, appears
and disappears amid the woods and rocks; the moonlight glitters through the
branches ; and our good-natured bearers sing us a slow and monotonous but

ENTRANCE OF THE GREAT CAVE OF KARLI.

 

original chorus. He who has not travelled in tropical regions can form no idea
of the magnificence of such a night. My bearers set me down before the
bungalow of Khandallah, where, after shouting aud knocking at the door for
DAK BUNGALOWS. 6

a long time, I at last succeeded in obtaining a meagre supper and a bed. These
dik bungalows are one of the best institutions for European travellers to be

 

BAS-RELIEF ON THE LEFT, UNDER THE GATEWAY OF KARLI.

found in India. They are generally small houses, constructed by the Govern-
ment at regular distances from one another, on the great roads that traverse the

peninsula. Every traveller has the right to demand shelter in them for the
E
66 INDIA.

moderate sum of one rupee, and may have the use of servants, furniture, &.,
all supplied at the public expense. After occupying the bungalow, or one of
the chambers, for twenty-four hours, he is bound to give them up to the first
traveller who drops in. It will readily be understood that in a country where
hotels and taverns are unknown, and where it would be very difficult for a
European to find a lodging, these houses are indispensable. Unfortunately their
number is limited, and the military roads alone are provided with them.

The bungalow at Khandallah is one of the very few that have survived the
establishment of the railway in the Bhore Ghaut; and this is owing to its
admirable position. Situated at the extreme edge of the tableland, it overlooks
a deep ravine, whose perpendicular precipices lose themselves in thick forests.
On one side rises a high mountain, that might be taken for a fortress; on the
other, a magnificent cascade leaps from a height of three hundred feet into the
valley. It is, therefore, always occupied by tourists or picnic-parties, and it is
difficult to find room there. Half a mile off is the Sanatorium, containing the
barracks of the English troops and numerous villas; for the air here is reputed
to be still more healthy than at Matheran, on account of the partial clearance of
timber in the neighbourhood. By a happy chance J met with an engineer in the
employment of the railway company, who had come to superintend certain repairs,
and who not only gave me much interesting information, but also was so obliging
as to take me with him to visit the whole line of the Ghauts. The works
executed on the Great Indian Peninsula Railway, to enable it to cross the
mountains, are in no respect inferior to the famous stairs of Giovi or the
Semmering, between Vienna and Laibach. The total height that had to be
surmounted was 1830 feet, on a line of fifteen miles, and with a mean incline
of t in 48. It was necessary to construct eight viaducts, of from thirty to fifty
arches, and from 50 to 140 feet high; to cut twenty-two tunnels, of a total
length of about a mile and three-quarters ; and to make embankments containing
upwards of six millions of cubic feet. All this was completed in seven years,
and at an expense of upwards of £800,000.

The line, throughout its whole extent, commands views of considerable
grandeur, sometimes overlooking the circus of Kampouli, sometimes traversing -
the mountain, skirting precipices, or crossing wooded gorges, of a depth to turn
one giddy at the sight below.

At Khandallah commences the immense triangular tableland comprised
between the Ghaut district on the east and west and the Vindhijas on the north,
which bears the name of the Deccan—a word derived from the Sanscrit, and
signifying the South country. Before continuing my journey towards Poonah,
I stayed some time to explore the Buddhist caves of Karli and Bairesiah. The
former are in the west side of a low hill forming part of the chain that rises above
the Ghauts and extends its ramifications towards Kandeish. An hour’s gallop
on a good little native horse brought me to the bottom of the circular valley
of Karli; and a narrow path, half concealed by the brushwood, led me to the
principal excavation. This is of the Chaitya kind, which I have already
described in speaking of Kenhari; and it is considered the finest specimen of this
style that is known in India. Its fagade is infinitely more imposing than that of
Kenhari, and the sthamba is upright and isolated like an obelisk. Everything
THE CAVES OF KARLI. 67

shows that this temple was excavated at the time of the greatest purity of the
Buddhist style. The bas-reliefs, the great window, and the doorways opening on

PRINCIPAL NAVE AND DAGOBA OF KARLI.

 

the vestibule are executed with the greatest taste and care. The columns which
surround the nave are more elegant, and the groups surmounting the capitals are
of more exact proportions, than those of Kenhari. Here also we find the wooden
68 INDIA.

ribs that deck the roof in a perfect state of preservation ; and the dagoba, or
altar, resembling that at Kenhari, also has an enormous parasol, likewise of wood,
the emblem of the omnipotence of Buddha; which, strange to say, the hand of
time and the various revolutions that have occurred appear to have spared and
left in its place for more than eighteen centuries. The cave, however, is itself
in a perfect state ; and this is to be attributed to the compact nature of the rock,
which is only very slightly influenced by the damp, and also to the elevated
position of the floor, which prevents the rain from flooding it. Thus, by a
providential chance (so to speak), the most beautiful cave in India remains to our
day in the same condition as when it was first excavated, and permits us to
admire, in all its magnificence, one of the finest monuments of antiquity. Certain
inscriptions have been found which almost conclusively establish the fact that
the excavation of this Chaitya was effected some time in the course of the two
centuries immediately preceding the birth of Christ. Some Brahmin priests have
built, in front of the cave, a small, insignificant-looking temple, dedicated to the
sanguinary Bhowani; and they conduct the visitor to the different chambers.
They are themselves wholly ignorant of the origin or history of these excavations,
and attribute them to those impure personages, the giants of fabulous times. On
the right of the great Chaitya is a vihara, or monastery, consisting of three rooms,
one upon another, cut in the perpendicular face of the rock. These rooms are
spacious and surrounded by cells, but without any ornament, and they com-
municate with each other by means of staircases within. The spot is most
picturesque. A cascade falls down along the facade of the caves, and goes to
replenish a pool surrounded by fine trees; and the windows of the different
storeys are half hidden by creeping plants, intertwined and covered with
flowers. The Buddhist monks, however, greatly appreciated the beauties
of nature, and their retreats always occupy the most imposing solitudes of the
mountain,

The caves of Bairesiah and Badjah are a short distance from Karli, and
comprise some very interesting Chaityas and viharas; but these offer nothing
worthy of remark beyond those already described.

In returning to Khandallah I traversed the whole valley, and stopped at the
village of Lanowli, in the neighbourhood of which is a sacred wood of great beauty,
composed of ancient trees of prodigious height bound to one another by enormous
creepers. Profound obscurity reigns there, and myriads of birds sport together on

the topmost branches. At the end of a small glade, carpeted with thick grass,and =

traversed by a little rivulet, rises a diminutive temple, mysterious and antique, so
covered with climbing plants that it is impossible to distinguish its shape. I
approached the entrance ; and, not seeing any one, I examined the interior, which
consisted of a small, dark chamber, containing a lingam, crowned with flowers and
placed between two lighted lamps; in the corners were some statues, also coated
over with red ochre. I got back to the bungalow by a narrow and rocky road,
bordered by mangoes and fig-trees. At the door, I had great difficulty in forcing
my way through a considerable crowd that had assembled. There had just been
brought in, on litters, the bodies of an English officer and his Indian guide, who
had had an unfortunate encounter with a tiger in a wood not far off. The Indian
had had his breast torn open by a single stroke of the paw; and the officer,
THE CAVES OF KARLI, 69
though seized by the tiger and horribly mutilated, was still alive, but he died a
short time after his arrival at the bungalow.

At the distance of some miles from the village of Khandallah are the superb
caves of Karli, of Bairesiah, and ef Badjah, which constitute a most interesting
group. These monuments all belong to the Buddhist style, and date from the
centuries immediately preceding or following the commencement of the Christian
era. The-great Chaitya of Karli is the finest cave-temple in India, and there
are so many descriptions of it extant, that I will say no more on the subject.
As for the others, they are little known, and, though very interesting from an
archeological point of view, differ very little from that of Karli.
CHAPTER VI.

THE WESTERN DECCAN.

Poonah.—The Palace of the Peishwah.—The Boudhwar Quarter.—The Hill of Parvati.—Loni—
Ahmednuggur.—Aurungabad.—_Dowlutabad.—Caves of Ellora and Ajunta.

SHE road from Khandallah to Poonah, the capital of the Western
Deccan, crosses large, bare, and arid plains, bounded by round-
topped mountains of inconsiderable height. The general aspect
of the country offers a striking contrast to the rich and fertile
} valleys of the Konkan; but if the country is less picturesque,
“ it is better cultivated, and is covered, in the season, with beau-
tiful fields of wheat aud maize. Passing the important military station of
Kirkee, we at length reached Poonah, which presents itself, with its gardens and
picturesque Hindoo houses, on the banks of the Moota.

I took up my quarters at a tolerably good hotel, kept by a Parsee, and situate
between the town and the English cantonments. These last, like nearly all
establishments of the kind, consist of good houses surrounded by gardens, and
standing in the middle of a large open space, or parade-ground, on which the
barracks are erected. Here reside all the European inhabitants of Poonah, to
the number of three or four hundred, exclusive of officers and Government func-
tionaries. The town is situate in the centre of a vast plain, nearly destitute of
trees, which extends as far as the blue mountains of Sattara. Each of its seven .
quarters bears the name of one of the days of the week. It contains some broad,
straight streets ; but the greater part consists of winding lanes and bazaars. The
houses of the wealthy, whose basements are of brick and the upper storeys of
wood and plaster, are remarkable for their carved beams, and their panels covered
with paintings of gods, elephants, and tigers, executed in very lively colours.
There are numerous temples, generally of small size, which have very elegant
pointed turrets, set round with bell-towers, producing a very graceful effect in
the midst of the tiled roofs and wooden gables of the neighbouring houses. The
population is almost entirely Hindoo, so the streets are full of fat Brahmins,
neatly clad and of jovial aspect ; of religious mendicants, almost naked and smutty
with ashes ; and sacred oxen, which wander at large in the bazaars, eating what-
ever they fancy at the merchants’ stalls, or lying down and obstructing the way.
The streets display a degree of cleanliness that puts to shame the black town of
Bombay, and which is attributable to English influence. In many parts you can
still see the palaces of the nobles who formed the court of the Peishwah. The
palace of the latter is full of memorials of this dynasty of ministers, The guide

 

 
PARVATI. ° 1

pointed out an elegant balcony, adorned with pilasters, from which Mahades, the
young Peishwah, threw himself in 1797. His prime minister, Nana Farnavez,
having reprimanded him in the presence of a general assembly of nobles and
Mahratta chiefs, the prince, feeling his dignity wounded, threw himself from this
height, and was killed by the fall®

The interior of the palace contains nothing remarkable. The courts are
spacious and deserted; and the bare chambers are devoid of the draperies, and
paintings, and all the animation that make up the beauty of the royal residencies
of India. On the other hand, each room, each corridor, has its tale of strife and
intrigue. Certain ancient noble houses give a medieval air to the Boudhwar (or
Wednesday) quarter. The great doors with heavy leaves, the loopholed windows,
and the thick walls surmounted by battlements or massive gables, recall the
structures of the nobles of Europe in the fourteenth or fifteenth century. They
.. are, for the most part, abandoned and falling into decay.

To the west of Poonah rises the hill of Parvati, covered with temples, and
overlooking the magnificent garden of diamonds (Hira Baugh), once the favourite
residence of the Peishwah. There, on the borders of a beautiful piece of water,
one of their summer palaces still stands—an elegant pavilion supported by
columns, and half concealed by a thick grove of mango-trees. The apartments
are elegantly decorated, the cornices and ceilings covered with paintings of
flowers and fruit; the balconies are shaded by the foliage of the trees ; steps lead
down to the pool, to shady banks covered with little kiosks and chapels. A
flight of steps leads to the summit of Parvati, up to the front of the famous
temple of this goddess, which contains, among other curiosities, a massive silver
statue of Siva, holding on his knees the statues of Parvati and Ganesa in pure
gold. It is alleged that these idols have valuable gems for eyes.

One of the most picturesque points about Poonah is the Sangam, at the con-
fluence of the Moota and the Moola; which is the spot where the Hindoos burn
their dead. The banks of the two rivers are covered with cenotaphs and kiosks,
purely commemorative monuments, for they do not even contain the ashes of the
departed. They have a gay and smiling aspect, which is. perfectly in consonance
with Hindoo ideas, according to which death is simply a happy transition from
this life to a better. At night these little pavilions are filled with friends and
relatives who come to converse, to breathe the cool air from the river, and to
admire the panoramic view of the town, which extends its bazaars and gardens to
the hill of Parvati.

Although Poonah is now in the power of the English, the Mahrattas still
consider it the capital of their country; and the richest among them frequently
return there to enjoy the gains they have made by commerce elsewhere. Early
invaded by the Aryan race, their country had been already designated, from the
time of Sakya Mooni, under the name of Maha Rachtra, or “The Great King-
dom.” Its inhabitants, although for the most part husbandmen, have contrived
to preserve all the characteristics of the warrior caste.

The Chinese traveller, Hwen Thsang, speaking of them in the seventh
century, says, “They prize honour and duty, and have a contempt for death. . . .
Their king has warlike tastes, and places military glory in the first rank; he
constantly maintains several thousand brave men, and many hundreds of fierce
elephants. .. .” They were even then, it appears, celebrated for their cavalry.
72 INDIA.

Subjugated by the Mussulmans, they rose about the end of the sixteenth century,
attacked the empire of the Moguls, and, victorious everywhere, invaded the whole
of India and pillaged its treasures. Delhi was theirs; and at one time they were
masters of the whole country lying between the Himalayas and the Krishnah.
Then dissensions broke out amongst these new rulers, and the English took
advantage of them. Nearly the whole Maha Rachtra was annexed to the terri-
tory of the East India Company. The nobles went into exile, and found a refuge
in the courts of these sovereigns, to which one must needs go in order to study
the manners and the military qualities which gained such triumphs for these
“Cossacks of India.” As for the Mahratta peasants, one can learn to recognise
them in all the country villages. They are generally of the middle height,. but
strong and stoutly built. They live on corn, vegetables, and butter, sometimes
on mutton and boar’s flesh. Strong drinks are allowed by their religion; but
they rarely abuse the indulgence, and very commonly reach an advanced age.
In many communities old men are to be seen of very advanced age.

The climate of Poonah is infinitely more agreeable than that of Bombay. If
the summer is hot and very dry, the other seasons are refreshed by frequent
rains. The governor of the presidency comes to reside here with his court during
several months of the year; and his presence gives the town a degree of anima-
tion and gaiety that is not found at that time in the capital.

I made a stay of only one week at Poonah, to arrange for my journey to the
caves of Ellora and Ajunta. On the morning of the 15th of January 1865, I
set out with my caravan. All my followers seemed well pleased to commence
life in the jungle, and went on their way talking and laughing. After travelling
about fifteen miles along a tolerably good road, on which the carriage made easy
progress, across a flat and uninteresting tract of country, we reached the first
bungalow, near the village of Loni. It is situated on a lofty eminence, probably
due to the accumulated rubbish of several centuries, and overlooks gardens and
fields. From a distance it has the appearance of a mass of mud walls in ruins,
together with a few stunted trees and, here and there, the high-pointed roof of a
barn covered with tiles. At the base of the hillock a thick earthen wall surrounds
the village, to which access is given by two rudely fashioned gates. What
seemed at a distance to be merely shapeless heaps of mud are the houses of the
peasants, built of bricks dried in the sun, with flat roofs of loam, thatched, and
forming terraces.

On the 16th, at daybreak, I arrived at Ahmednuggur. The ramparts and tall
slender towers of a fortress keep guard over this populous and busy town, well
worth a visit of curiosity on account of the semi-Hindoo, semi-Pathan style of its
houses and bazaars. Outside the town there is a large English military station,
the gardens and trees of which form an oasis in the midst of the parched plain.
I was shown the spot where the monster cannon of Bijapore was cast, which,
according to Hindoo accounts, threw stone shot a céss, or two miles.

I have rarely seen a more uninteresting country than that we passed through
after leaving Ahmednuggur; interminable cotton-fields covering the plain, a few
poor-looking trees, and here and there a blue mountain appearing on the horizon.
The Godavery waters this immense valley. At this season it is dry, and its bed
is merely an expanse of fine sand and pebbles.
AURUNGABAD. 73

It was with lively satisfaction that I saw at last, on the morning of the 2oth,
the minarets of Aurungabad. This town presents itself with all the accessories
of beauty that constitute the charm of Asiatic cities ; its ramparts, adorned with

‘ig Ha Uh Ne
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DEPARTURE FROM POONAH.

 

‘round towers, being covered with a dome of foliage, above which rise the slender
spires of the mosques and the high terrace-roofs of the palaces.
At the present-time Auruugabad contains more large ruined buildings and
74 INDIA.

gardens than inhabited houses. The Emperor Aurungzeb fixed his court here,
and was the cause of its temporary splendour. It is rising in importance now
through the notice taken of it by the English, who administer the affairs of the
country. The new bazaars are large and well laid out, and the houses of an
elegant style. There is a considerable business done in native silks and brocades,
and also in exquisite fruits, which are exported as far as Bombay. The ancient
palace of the Emperor, on the bank of the Doudhna, is a vast ruin, which can
never have been anything remarkable. Aurungzeb, however, is the only one of
the Great Moguls who has not left us any monument worthy to be compared
with those which his predecessors achieved. Near the palace is the tomb of
Rahia Dourani, for whom Aurungzeb, surpassing himself, was anxious to build a
mausoleum as fine as the Taj of Agra erected by his father. This tomb was only
a bad copy of the original; but it is calculated to impress the visitor who has
never seen the wonderful model.

At a little distance from the town, in the midst of a beautiful sheet of water,
is another remarkable mausoleum, containing the relics of the famous Mahometan
saint, Shah Soufi. It is visited every year by great numbers of pilgrims from
various parts of the Deccan, who come to seek a cure for their complaints or
pardon for their misdeeds. The climate of Aurungabad is held in great repute.
Fevers are of rare occurrence, and cholera is unknown, the place being about
eighteen hundred feet above the level of the sea. The winter is cool, the mean
temperature being then 64° Fahr.

Some three or four leagues to the north stands an enormous conical block of
granite, about one hundred and eighty feet high, bearing on its summit one of the
most famous fortresses of India, styled Dowlutabad, the “Abode of Fortune.”
Entirely isolated in the midst of the plain, it must have early attracted the
attention of the warlike races who took possession of the country. At its base
rises the town, in which certain savants have supposed they could recognise the
celebrated Tagara of the Greeks, Later on, under the name of Deogurh, or
“ Dwelling-place of God,” it became the capital of the sovereigns of the Deccan.
The Emperor Ala Oudeen removed there in 1294; and one of his successors,
Mahomed Togluk, struck by the impregnable position of the fort, was desirous of
making it the capital of Hindostan. With this view he forced the inhabitants of
Delhi, to the number of sixty thousand, to abandon their city, and to transport
themselves to Dowlutabad.

The road leading to the summit of the hill is a long gallery bored in the rock,
and receiving air and light only through dormer-windows. We ascend by an easy
incline, passing gratings, trapdoors, and portcullises, ready to check whosoever
has eluded the vigilance of the sentries. Midway we have to climb a very steep
staircase, closed in by a horizontal plate of iron pierced with holes. It cannot be
definitely ascertained to what epoch this marvellous work is to be ascribed; it is
probably contemporaneous with the excavations of Ellora. At the exit of this
road a handsome Saracen gate opens on the exterior rampart, a wall about
sixteen feet thick and fifty-two feet high, forming along the ledge of the plateau
a circumference of more than two miles and a half. The interior of the fortress
is divided into nine parts by as many concentric enclosures, rising one above
another up to the last, which overlooks all the others. .

A few miles of hilly country now separated me from Ellora. On the morning
PIPALGHAT. 15

of the 19th our caravan climbed the acclivity of Pipalghat, a pretty considerable
work, achieved, as is witnessed by two columns placed by the roadside, by one of
the nobles of the court of Aurungzeb. In order to gratify the fanatic zeal of his
master, this courtier made use materials from Hindoo temples that had been
destroyed. The flagging of the pathway is covered with sculptures, indicating
whence it came. The road emerges upon an extensive plain, covered with
mausoleums and Mussulman tombs, for the most part in ruins, and hiding their

LUT
TAA

 

HINDOO TEMPLES.

domes and minarets beneath the foliage of venerable trees. At the farther
boundary of the plain is the village of Rauzah (Paradise), around which, more-
over, extends a spacious Mahometan cemetery. It contains the tomb of the
Emperor Aurungzeb—the plainest monument that has ever been raised in honour
of a great Mahometan sovereign. Here is also the mausoleum of a famous saint,
Berham Oudeen, a descendant of the Prophet.
76 INDIA.

The renowned excavations of Ellora, in the western face of the hill of Rauzah,
derive their name from a little village, half concealed beneath the trees, at the
foot of a high wall of rock forming an enormous crescent. Thirty or forty caves
constitute the Ellora group. ‘There are four temples or Chaityas, twenty-four
monasteries or Buddhist viharas, and likewise caves of the Jain order, combining
nearly all the characteristics of the other two classes, The great importance of
Ellora centres in the fact that we are enabled here to study the subterranean
architecture of the Hindoos after surveying works which date from the fourth to
the tenth century of our era.

Proceeding along the mountain-side to the height of the excavations, we pass
in review temples of indescribable richness and monasteries of grand proportions.
On all sides the rock is excavated, cut into steps, hollowed out into gigantic
apartments, or sculptured with colossal figures of the Sphinx. Nature unites with
the labours of man to aid the fantastic effect of these scenes. Cascades fall in
front of the caves; ravines covered with brushwood cover the base of the moun-
tain; and the deep gorges are full of trees that have lived a hundred years. But
the marvel of Ellora is the monolithic temple of Kailas, which, in place of sombre
and mysterious caves, displays itself as a grand edifice, carved entirely out of a
single rock, with domes, columns, spires, and obelisks. In the centre of a spacious
court rises the principal pagoda, attaining, with its belfries and towers, a height of
one hundred feet. All its proportions are on a gigantic scale, and the ornaments
are in perfect accordance with the grandeur of the whole. A handsome portico
over a double staircase leads to a vast hall, the roof of which is supported by
several rows of columns, and into which open the doors of five chapels. Balconies
on light pilasters project over the court, and the walls are covered with bas-reliets
representing thousands of different figures. At the back of the temple, elephants
and lions, placed side by side, seem to support on their backs the entire structure.
Stone foot-bridges unite the portico to an elegant pavilion in front, on each side
of which stands a graceful and unique obelisk. In contemplating this magnificent
whole, so full of symmetry, of power, and of grandeur, one is tempted to ask
oneself what mighty genie has been called in to conceive and execute such a
monument. One defect, one vein, one gap in the mass of basalt, and this achieve-
ment of giants would have been but an abortive attempt. The only point in
which this marvellous temple is at fault is its confined position. Not finding an
isolated block out of which they could chisel their edifice, the architects were
obliged to cut into the very flank of the mountain. They thus formed a court
upwards of four hundred feet long by two hundred broad, enclosed between per-
pendicular walls of rock, the height of which at the back of the temple exceeds
one hundred feet, but at the sides of the entrance attains only twenty-three feet.
You must enter the court in order to take in the complete ensemble of the
marvellous Kailas. Long colonnades adorning the base of the escarpment contain,
in a series of sculptures in relief, the most beautiful and most perfect to be found
in India, all the deities of the Hindoo mythology. Most of the statues are faulty
in their proportions; but they have all the grandeur and solemnity that one
admires in Egyptian works of art.

I spent a week in visiting all the excavations, and then left for Ajunta, about
fifty miles distant.

The valley of grottoes is nearly a mile from the town. A picturesque path
17

, hemmed in between the mountains, and

grown forest trees, including the banyan, the peepul, the

AYUNTA.

leads to it through a narrow defile

abounding with full-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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oy yzo

 

 

 

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Monkeys spring from bough

to bough, and parrots sport with one another over the banks of the torrent.
The gorge contracts more and more until it reaches the Satkhound, a beautiful

nim, and the bur, the giants of the Indian forest.
78 INDIA.

waterfall, which bounds from rock to rock from a height of three hundred feet. .
There the ravine turns suddenly to the right; and it is in the high perpen-
dicular wall facing the defile that the caves are found. For a distance of five
or six hundred yards the mountain is pierced with a line of doors and verandahs,
which, placed at a great elevation above the torrent, seem at first sight merely

 

THUGS, IN THE PRISON OF AURUNGABAD.

insignificant openings, but in reality are of enormous dimensions. From an
archeological point of view, this is the most complete and the most beautiful
group of purely Buddhist grottoes in India; and it is also the most interesting
to the tourist.

The magnificence of these monuments surpasses everything that is to be
HYDERABAD. 79

seen at Ellora or in the Konkan, They are not caverns roughly hewn out,
adorned with strange and mystic statues, but genuine palaces, elegant, graceful,
and decorated with admirable paintings. These frescoes, which the hand of
time has kindly spared, have, dor the most part, their primitive liveliness of
colour; and they form a complete museum, perhaps the chief curiosity in this
land so rich in memorials. The columns are ornamented with garlands of flowers,
with masks, and geometrical designs of exquisite taste; the ceilings are covered
with rosework, where persons and animals are intermingled with the delicate
outlines of the arabesques; and the walls are divided into panels, portraying
various scenes illustrative of the types, costumes, and manners of those bygone
ages :—Buddhist monks preaching to the people, who listen to them admiringly ;
princes and nobles adoring the sacred emblems; processions where the king
is seen on horseback surrounded by his court, elephants bearing the relics, and
the whole retinue proceeding to the temple; desperate combats and sieges, in
which the shock of contending armies, the fury of the besieged as they hurl
enormous stones from the battlements, and engines of war of every description,
are reproduced with striking animation and fidelity. By the side of these
scenes of tumult, groups full of grace and expression represent the private life
of the period; all the secrets of the palace, the harem, the convent, the schools
are revealed to us. Unhappily these paintings will not last much longer.
As soon as they are chipped at one point, the damp detaches the plaster and
the whole panel falls. These excavations are by no means of one epoch. The
most ancient appear to have been in existence for nineteen hundred or two
thousand years; and the most recent date, beyond doubt, from the eighth or
ninth century.

After spending some days in exploring, I returned to Aurungabad, then to
Poonah. I then resolved to make an excursion to Hyderabad, the capital of the
Nizam. The railway only took me a portion of the way, viz. as far as Shola-
pore, which is a large and prosperous town, being one of the centres of cotton
cultivation. A covered cart, drawn by oxen, conveyed me the remainder of my
journey, which was by no means a pleasant one. On the 18th of March I
reached Secunderabad, an English cantonment, where I procured from the
English Resident an introduction to the Dewan, or prime minister of the Nizam.
I then proceeded on to Hyderabad, which is about six miles from Secunderabad,
and, after presenting my letter of introduction to a soldier at the gate of the city,
I was conducted to the house of the Dewan, and was ushered into the presence
of his Excellency Sir Salar Jung. On my requesting permission to see the town,
he assured me I might remain as long as I liked, and provided me with a couple
of choubdars as guides.

The town is divided into four great quarters by two long and wide streets,
intersecting each other at right angles. At their junction stands the Jammah
Masjid, the mosque or cathedral of Hyderabad. It is built entirely of stone, and
is chiefly remarkable from being the exact copy of the Great Mosque at Mecca.
The best view of the town is to be obtained from the platform of the Jammah
Masjid. The palace of the Nizam is a huge mass of buildings, of no very striking
character as far as the exterior is concerned, and I was disappointed in not being
able to see the interior of it. From the general aspect and dress of the inhabit-
a INDIA.

ants of Hyderabad, it is easy to see that the greater part of the population is
Mussulman.
After seeing Hyderabad, I paid a visit to Golcondo, the famous fortress of the

 

SOLDIERS OF THE NIZAM OF HYDERABAD.

Dekkan. It isa regular eagle’s nest, perched on the summit of a steep and
rocky hill. Here it is that the Nizam keeps his treasure ; hence it is, I presume,
that the name of Golconda has become a synonym for boundless wealth. The
BI¥APORE. 81

diamond mines of Golconda, so well known by name, are situated some miles to
the east of the fortress.

On leaving Golconda I went to Bijapore. I have not space here to describe
all the marvellous monuments gf this city of ruins; I will therefore content
myself with mentioning two. The first is the Mausoleum of Mohamed Shah, the
dome of which is larger than that of St. Peter's at Rome. The second is the
famous cannon called “ Malik-i-Maidan,” or “The King of the Plains.” It is the
largest gun in the world, and was cast by order of the Sultan Ali Adil Shah in
1549.

After leaving Bijapore I returned through Sholapore and Poonah, and retired
from the heat of the plains to Mahabuleshwar, 4000 feet above the sea, where I
employed my time in studying Oordoo, or the camp-language of the Mahometan
conquerors.
CHAPTER VII.
THE NORTHERN KONKAN.

Bassein, the ancient Portuguese City.—The Railway and the Castes.—Surat.—The Cotton-fields.
—Broach,—The Cornelian Mines of Ratanpore.

sS\OWARDS the middle of May I again set out on my travels.
Ml To reach the north of India two roads were open to me. The
shortest, by Indore and Gwalior, had already been followed by
many; the other, which passes through the country of the
Bheels and Rajpootana, was longer, more difficult, more danger-
ous, but less known. The antiquated descriptions given by Tod
and Heber promised me such great enjoyment that I did not hesitate to choose
the latter.

A young Flemish painter, M. Schaumburg, whose acquaintance I had made
at Bombay, proposed to accompany me, and I acceded to his request with great
pleasure. The knowledge which I had already gained of India and its inhabi-
tants caused me to dread the isolation in which I should have found myself, in
the midst of districts containing only a very few Europeans. If it is easy to
traverse India rapidly, from one end to the other, alone and fearless, while you
keep in the English provinces and follow the great military ways, it is very diffi-
cult to travel, even slowly, when you pass through the midst of a population
which, without being openly hostile, always regards the stranger with distrust.

On the 22nd of May I finally quitted the island of Bombay; the country, as
far as the north of Salsette, being well known to me. The railway traversed
those beautiful forests which I had seen, some months before, in all their splen-
dour, and which a burning sun was beginning to parch up. At the northern
point of the island, a magnificent iron viaduct crosses the strait of Ghora Bandar,
and commands a superb and extensive prospect. On one side the majestic arms
of the sea lose themselves between wooded banks and huge rocks; on the other,
a long, steep promontory, crowned by the walls of Bassein, encloses a bay of
beautiful blue water, on whose surface a hundred native boats are dancing, The
crenellated ramparts of the ancient Portuguese city now only defend a forest of
cocoa-nut trees, above which, here and there, may be seen the ruined towers of
the churches. Bassein was one of the most flourishing Lusitanian colonies. The
great Albuquerque is buried there, his marble tomb hidden beneath briars and
creeping plants. All around Bassein, the hills are surrounded by forts, castles,
and convents, for the most part in ruins: in many of the country villages the
Portuguese element still predominates.

 
THE RAILWAY AND CASTE. 83

Beyond the little village of Palghur, we come upon plains covered, as far as
the eye can reach, with arecas and taras, standing about twenty paces distant
from each other, and forming a thinly grown forest of very original appearance.
The inhabitants of the scanty viMages live on the produce of these trees; the
former of which supplies them with the areca-nut, and the latter with a palm-
wine, the spirit from which is highly esteemed in the country. Here the railway
was still an object of curiosity. At the stations, a dense crowd, assembled from
all the neighbouring villages, carefully contemplated the dg gharree, or “ fire-
carriage.” A few courageous Bunians trusted themselves to the train; but it was
easy to see with what scared looks they allowed themselves to be hustled about
by the porters, who, allowing of no hesitation, pushed them into the carriages and
shut them in. These poor fellows submitted sorrowfully, but without a murmur,
to the rule established on the Indian railways, which separates the women from
the men, on account of the prejudices
of caste. With melancholy looks they
followed their companions, whom an
official put all together into a carriage =.
at the other end of the train. ul ti

On approaching Surat the trees dis- 2 Ne
appear; the soil becomes of a reddish d
hue, and is covered with cotton-fields :
to the verge of the horizon extend
grey, parched fields, producing the kinds
known under the name of “Surat
Broach ; ” all “ short-staple,” inferior to
American cotton. Cotton! everywhere
cotton !—you will look in vain for a
field of wheat throughout all this
immense plain. Here the peasant had
rooted up his vegetables to grow cotton ;
and at every station he persecuted you
with questions respecting the war that
was deluging America with blood—a
fabulous country of whose very posi- BHISTIS, OR WATER CARRIER.
tion on the earth he was ignorant.

In about’ three hours the walls of the ancient city of Surat appeared behind
a row of large trees, and the train stopped at a handsome station. Dhwmmis, a
species of two-wheeled waggon, covered with a tilt, and drawn by those large,
humped oxen, so white and so beautiful, for which Surat is justly famed, were in
waiting at the station. I took one, and went for a drive through the city, which
I entered by an opening in the ramparts—plain walls, without either glacis or
fosses, but very high, very thick, and furnished with loopholes for matchlock-men.
This dilapidated wall, which retains its pompous name of Alampanah, or
“Protector of the land,” has a circuit of six miles, and is strengthened by
numerous round towers.

Surat, whose name signifies “The good city,” in the time of the Ptolemies
formed part of the great kingdom of Sou Rachtra; it is one of the most ancient
ports on that coast. It retains few signs of its former splendour. In 1827, a

RRPD

 
84 INDIA.

fire destroyed more than six thousand houses, and was succeeded by a flood in
which a number of the inhabitants perished. The quarter which I first visited
was the one that had suffered most. The streets were still filled with the blackened
ruins, and here and there stood a few gloomy houses, with their brick walls, their
carved balconies, and their wooden columns, the sole remains of the once-famous
bazaars. One might fancy oneself on the very morrow of the terrible catastrophe.
An air of sadness reigned over the city, which I at first attributed to the dismal
aspect of the ruins; but I learned that a frightful attack of cholera was carrying
off hundreds daily. Processions were passing through the streets carrying the
statues of the gods; the temples were surrounded by crowds of women bringing
offerings; every instant groups of mourners went by, conveying a body to the
funeral pile.

With what delight did I breathe the fresh air on the quays that stretch along
the banks of the Taptee! The setting sun was gilding the tops of the palm-
trees ; the majestic river was flowing at my feet, with its port in miniature, and
a few steamboats were riding at anchor in the midst of a flotilla of patemars
(coasting vessels); on my right, the fortress reared its lofty towers above an
amphitheatre of roofs and terraces. The lower portion of the city, adjoining the
port, has been entirely reconstructed; the bazaars there are wide, bordered by
fine houses, and filled with a noisy crowd of speculators. The narrow streets I
went through were imperfectly lighted ; but at the cross roads huge piles of wood
were burning, the high flames of which cast a sinister glare upon the dense crowd
of invalids who thronged around them. During cholera epidemics the Hindoos
light large fires to purify the air and enable the poor people to warm themselves.

The bazaars of Surat interested me very much. Beautiful silks are sold here,
and also objects of art, of wrought iron inlaid with gold and silver, which merit
the reputation they enjoy throughout the whole coast. The Parsees, who form a
considerable section of the population, have a great number of fire-temples; but
the Buniahs and the Jains predominate. In every street you may meet their
priests with shaven heads and clad in large mantles. They cover their mouths with
a veil, to avoid swallowing some insect accidentally, and they carry a small broom
to clear the spot where they sit down. Here, as at Bombay, is a hospital for .
animals, known in India under the name of Pinjrapél. Into a spacious granary
attached to this establishment all the damaged grain from the bazaars is thrown,
for the sustenance of millions of insects, cockroaches, &c.; and visitors are allowed
to climb the granary ladder to witness the strange spectacle.

One of the curiosities of Surat is the cemetery belonging to the ancient
European indigo-factories, which contains some beautiful tombs dating from the
early years of the seventeenth century. In this city France still possesses a
lodge; that is to say, a field and a half-ruined house, over which the French
may, if they think proper, hoist the national standard. And this is all that
remains of the famous factory established by Colbert.

On the morning of the 25th of May I set out by rail, en rowte for Broach,
which is about sixty-two miles farther north. The soil, always flat and destitute
of timber, is concealed beneath plantations of cotton; this is, however, the district
that produces the famous description called “Fair Broach.” Near Uncleysur
station the country becomes deep, owing especially to the frequent inundations of
the Nerbudda, which we cross before reaching Broach. This river is, next to the
THE NERBUDDA,

Indus, the most important of the tributaries of the Sea of Oman.
Central India, and marks the boundary between Hindostan and the

and the Hindoos reverence it as much as the G
e

Aa

        

NI
NH

in
tht

TAIN
UH
Ra
nas

A BUNIAH OF SURAT.

Cambay a few miles from Broach; in front of which town its bed has a width of
about two miles. The railway company has thrown over this river a fine iron
bridge, consisting of sixty-five triple piles, of a height of nearly forty-eight feet

It waters
Dekkan ;
anges. It runs into the Gulf of
86 INDIA,

above the mean level of the water, which is rapidly heightened by the floods
brought on by the monsoon.

Broach is the ancient Barygaza, mentioned by Arrian and Ptolemy. It was
one of the first ports opened to the Greeks by the treaties they concluded with
the kings of Sou Rachtra and the Konkan ; and it bears a great resemblance to
Surat. The chief object of curiosity at Broach is the Chandi Musjid, or Silver
Mosque, which contains the mausoleums of the Naw&bs; one of which, being
covered with plates of silver, has given to the edifice its imposing name.
Some of the sarcophagi are of white marble, richly carved, and placed beneath
canopies of velvet. The famous cornelian mines of Ratanpore are eighteen
miles to the east of Broach. The road, as far as Soukal Tirth, follows deep
ravines, formed by the inundations, and comes out at length on to a well-
cultivated plain. This village, on the bank of the Nerbudda, boasts of very
fine temples, the most frequented of all in the province by the devout. In the
immediate neighbourhood is the famous Kabira bdr, the oldest and largest banyan
in India. According to tradition, it was planted by the sage Kabira long before
the Christian era. By the continual increase of its branches and its abutments,
it had grown to cover an area of more than a thousand yards’ circumference; but
a hurricane carried away a considerable portion at the commencement of the
present century, and it is at the present time reduced to a circumference of
about six hundred and sixty yards. The central trunk has disappeared for a
long time past, its place being occupied by a small temple; and the entangle-
ment of the branches and roots is such, and the foliage is so sombre, that it is
not easy to make one’s way beneath this fantastic roof. The moist and spongy
soil swarms with scorpions, and hosts of flying foxes live under the shelter of its
leaves. This tree is in itself a little virgin forest.

We crossed the river in a ferry-boat, at a very picturesque spot above tlie
island of Soukal Tirth, which is charmingly situated in the middle of the river,
whose waters reflect its rugged heights crowned with handsome Hindoo pagodas.
On the opposite bank we found a layer of fine sand, which was very fatiguing
for our horses, and which covers the country as far as the village of Minawara,
six miles off. This sand appeared sprinkled over with quantities of agates of
various colours and sizes, increasing in abundance as we advanced. Near
Ratanpore, the ground is literally covered with them. The mines, which are
a few miles distant from this village, lie along the side of a low hill. Innumer-
able galleries traverse a thick stratum of loam, or potter’s earth, in which the
cornelians and agates are embedded, Numbers of people find employment there.
The stones, when brought to the village, are spread out on the ground and
exposed to the sun. They are left thus for from eight to ten months, in
order that their colour may increase in intensity. They are subsequently
collected and baked in earthen pots over a fire made with sheep’s dung; any
other kind of fuel, it appears, is useless for this process.* Under this treatment
the cornelians change their natural black colour for a brilliant red. The village
contains several establishments where these stones are wrought into balls, orna-
ments, pendants, &c., in which there is a considerable export trade with Africa
and Arabia.

These mines are the more interesting in that they have remained under the

* Remarkable and quite true.—Eb.
THE “GARDEN OF GOOFERAT.” 87

exclusive control of the nativés. The machinery and the method employed
prove that the Hindoos are more laborious and more enterprising than people
are generally willing to admit.

I left Broach on the 29th. fhe railway enters the territory of the Guicowar,
a powerful Mahratta prince, and the aspect of the country undergoes a sudden
change. The grey, unvaried plains are succeeded by a smiling expanse of
luxuriant vegetation, with fields of bajry,* sugar-cane, and jowar,f as far as the
eye can reach, This district is reputed to be the most fertile in India. The
Hindoos call it the “Garden of Goojerat,’ which, in its turn, is the garden of
Hindostan. Fine groups of mango, fig, and tamarind trees add to the beauty
of the landscape; hamlets are hidden in beautiful orchards, and their roofs of
loam almost disappear beneath the broad leaves of magnificent cucurbitaceous
trees. The secret of this extraordinary fertility (not to speak of the richness
of a heavy black soil) lies in the abundant irrigation to which it is subjected.
Everywhere you hear the grinding of noria wheels, and the measured song of
the workmen, as they goad the fat oxen employed at the reservoirs; and the
water flows through the plain in a thousand rills. One would scarcely imagine
what an air of gaiety and contentment reigns over the inhabitants of this
favoured soil. The men sing at the plough, accompanied by women of robust but
graceful forms, and their children gambol amongst the corn-fields, or drive far
away from the growing ears the flocks of parrots and other winged thieves.
Taking their stand on some old tree-trunk, they shout with all their might, and
hurl small stones with their slings.

Close to the capital one every moment sees numberless herds of antelopes
bounding over the plain, which fly in dismay at the approach of the train. Like
all the Hindoo rulers, the Guicowar keeps extensive preserves, abounding with.
game of every description; and I am informed that the few leagues of country
we traversed contained a great quantity, not only of antelopes, but also of wild
boars and other game.

The railway station is a mile and a half or two miles from the town of
Baroda, near a small permanent camp. I at once proceeded, with my whole
equipage, to the dak bungalow, an elegant house at the entrance of the camp;
but I there found neither beds nor furniture. Here was a predicament! Not
supposing that I should have already been obliged to adopt all the cumbersome
appliances of jungle life, I had only brought my servants and such luggage as
was indispensable, reckoning on fitting myself out when I was about to leave
Ahmedabad. Happily I was provided with letters of introduction; so I made
known my difficulty to an English officer, in the service of the Guicowar, from
whom I received kind offers of hospitality, which I eagerly accepted. Some
hours afterwards I was installed, with my belongings, under the roof of my new
friend, a large bungalow in a charming situation, on the bank of the little river
Vishwamitra, in a grove of magnificent nims.

* A kind of millet. + Akind of maize.
CHAPTER VIII.
BARODA.

The Town and the Suburbs,—Tatia Sahib.—Harribakti—The Great Sowari of the Star of the
South.—The Royal Standard-bearer.—The King’s Elephant.—The Palace.—A Collection of
Shoes.—His Highness the Guicowar of Baroda.—Our First Interview.—History of the
Guicowar Family.—The Motibaugh.—Life at a Hindoo Court.—Bhao Sahib, the Senapati.—
A wonderful Collection of Diamonds.—King for an Hour !—A Great Review.—The Jesters.
—Dancing-Girls.

ARODA is the capital of the territory of one of the most
Y powerful princes in India, the Guicowar. I had been informed
that this prince received European travellers affably, and was
assured that, once established as his guest, I should assist at
festivals and ceremonies which it would be difficult to witness
at any other Court in India. Thanks to the numerous letters
of introduction which I had procured from persons of influence at Bombay, I was
certain to be well received by the prince, and to be able to gratify my strong
desire to see a purely Mahratta Court. These reasons determined me to fix my
quarters at Baroda for the rainy season, now near at hand, and not to enter
Rajpootana until the autumn,

My future travelling-companion, M. Schaumburg, was not going to join me
until a week after my arrival, and so I put off for the present my first visit to
the Guicowar.

In order to make these few days pass profitably, the officer with whom I was
staying offered to introduce me to some influential people about the Court. We
accordingly proceeded to the city, which is connected with the English encamp-
ment by a good road, nearly two miles long, passing through charming scenery.
The great trees bordering it had their branches mutilated, in punishment, it
appeared, for a crime committed by a parrot; which, perched on one of them,
offered a terrible affront to the purple robe of the prince. The intercession of
the courtiers prevailed to save the trees themselves.

Some handsome temples reared their lofty towers above a small wood. We
soon reached the Vishwamitra, which is crossed by an old Hindoo bridge, of two
rows of arches, placed one upon the other. This river, impetuous and irregular
in its course, has hollowed for itself, out of the soft and friable ground, a very
deep bed, flanked by perpendicular rocks fifty feet high. On the opposite bank
appear the thickly peopled suburbs of Baroda. Great staircases lead down to
the water’s edge; and above them rise a thousand bell-towers of temples, together
with kiosks and tombs, half hidden behind a dense screen of trees.

 
PALACE OF TATIA SAHIB. 89

Crossing the bridge, we entered the narrow and crowded streets, through
which it took us an hour to reach the gates of the city. These suburbs contain
a population of upwards of one hundred and fifty thousand souls—far more than
the town itself; and the houses gre nearly all of wood, and of that picturesque
style peculiar to the territory of Goojerat. Pagodas and idols are placed at all
the cross ways, surmounted with coloured banners. In the centre of this unhealthy
quarter is situated a magnificent hospital, built by the princely house of the
Guicowars.

At length we came to a large monumental gateway, flanked by high round
towers, the fagade of which is painted with figures of monsters and divinities; and,
the Guicowar’s soldiers presenting arms to us, we entered the city. It is crossed
at right angles by two spacious streets, dividing it into four quarters, three of
which contain the houses of the nobles and rich citizens, and the fourth the royal
palace. At the crossing of these two streets, an immense pavilion, the base of
which is formed of high stone arches, supports a lofty pyramid of wood, with
balconies in several storeys, surmounted by a large clock. In whatever part of
the city or its neighbourhood you may be, you have always before your eyes this
monumental clock-tower, with its storeys painted of various colours, and bearing a
strong resemblance to a Chinese pagoda.

We alighted from our carriage before the palace of Tatia Sahib Kilidar, to
whom I had expressed a wish to be presented. This palace, a large brick building,
differs from the neighbouring houses only in the richness of the carved wood-work,
and the profusion of colour on its fagade. The ground floor is laid out in shops;
and a single door, very narrow, gives access to the interior.

My companion, without hesitation, proceeded to ascend a dark staircase, nearly
perpendicular, and so narrow that I could easily touch both walls with my elbows.
It was closed in at the summit by a heavy trap-door, which a servant opened and
then closed after us. “How,” I asked myself, “ can people who, as I am informed,
live surrounded by almost supernatural luxury, condemn themselves to go up and
down such a break-neck affair?” The captain explained the reason of this
singularity. The Mahratta nobles came into this country as usurpers; mere
peasants’ sons, they had expelled the ancient nobility. Being exposed to the
vengeance of the dispossessed landowners, each of them made his palace a fortress
difficult of approach. Afterwards, their constant quarrels with the sovereign
induced them to retain, as a measure of precaution, a system established as a
protection against the dagger of the assassin. The staircase always opens into a
guard-room; and surprise is impossible, for one man could easily defend the
passage against a hundred.

We traversed sundry large rooms, several courts, and a labyrinth of corridors.
The house seemed full of soldiers and attendants of the Kilidar; it was more like
a barrack than a palace. Some were playing at dice, others singing to the
accompaniment of the lute, and many were stretched, fast asleep, on the floor.
On storey after storey we were received by an usher, bearing a silver wand, who
showed us the way. When we reached the fifth floor, we came out on a spacious
terrace, covering the whole palace, surrounded by elegant apartments with galleries
in front, supported on columns. Contrary to the European custom, which relegates
the servants to the upper storey, the master of the house here always occupies it
himself; indeed, it is by far the coolest and pleasantest part of the house. Out
go INDIA.
of reach of the emanations from the bazaars, the apartments admit the air freely,
and the terraces, stuccoed, and sheltered from the sun by thick awnings, are
transformed into capacious rooms.

We were shown into the presence of Tatia Sahib, who advanced and shook
hands with us. Taken unawares by our visit, he was still in a negligent attire,
which was excused by the heat of the day, and very graciously apologised for not
having received me in a manner worthy of the honour I conferred upon him. We
sat down on sofas, which were placed in a verandah supported by Moorish
arcades; the walls of which were covered with glasses, pictures, and native
curiosities. The Kilidar was a man of between twenty-five and thirty years of
age, and the most perfect type of a Mahratta. His bust, bare and bronzed, was
admirably formed ; his features delicate and exceedingly handsome. His expres-
sion was somewhat fierce, although his large black eyes, always in motion, his rich
earrings, and the pearl necklaces that hung down upon his breast gave him an
effeminate air. I had along conversation with him about Europe, the object of
my journey, and my plans. He assured me that the king would be happy to see
me, and would do his best to make my sojourn agreeable. On taking leave, he
made me a thousand protestations of friendship, begged me to consider his palace
my own, and showed how much he felt flattered that my first visit was paid to
him. 5

Thence we called on several other nobles, and everywhere I met with the
same warm reception :—“they had heard my approaching arrival spoken of at
Court ;” “the king had appeared disposed to welcome a French traveller ;” “ they
desired my better acquaintance.”

The captain proposed that we should call on a great Hindoo lady, the widow
of Harribakti, the late Keeper of the Royal Treasury ; who, free from control, and
of advanced notions, liked to frequent good European society. Rare indeed, in
that country, is the opportunity of entering the house of a lady of great fortune
and high caste. The rules of the zenana are so strict, the prejudices so deeply
rooted, that even widows scarcely dare break through the purdah.* The widow
Harribakti received us in a room hung with damask, and magnificently decorated.
Draped in a thin veil of rose-coloured silk, and half reclining on velvet cushions,
she shone forth in the midst of all her splendid surroundings. Wer figure was of
striking beauty; her dress glittered with jewels and gold. When we entered, she
gracefully rose, and, having shaken hands, invited us to take our seats on each
side of her. She asked me several questions about Paris, the manners and
customs of the French, and, above all, the costumes of the ladies. My answers
sometimes made her laugh; but what astonished her most was that our women
could bring themselves to go out on foot into the streets and public promenades.
Her lively and animated conversation on various subjects, and the English words
she introduced, indicated in this lady a degree of education that one would never
expect to find within the walls of a zenana. She kindly invited me to repeat my
visit, and went through the ceremony of the pdnsopari herself; and I withdrew,
astonished to find so much grace and amiability. The pdnsopari is a mixture of
betel, areca, and lime, which it is the custom to offer to persons of distinction
when they are on the point of retiring from an interview—a mixture by no means
agreeable to chew for the first time; but one soon gets used to it. The master

* Purdah, “screen,” the word commonly used in India to designate harem life.
ENGLISH RESIDENTS. gr

of the house also pours rose-water on the hands and beards of his visitors. I
returned to the camp, delighted with my first excursion, and utterly astounded
at the facility with which I had obtained admission into these various Hindoo
houses, °

Some travellers, who have rapidly traversed India from one end to the other,
complain of the exclusiveness of the inhabitants, as rendering it impossible to
make any study of their manners and private life. One of them, M. de Valbezen,
exclaims, “ There exists a more than Chinese wall between the European and the
Hindoo, which daily intercourse, even for years, cannot break through. Were
you to remain twenty years in India, you could never see anything of the Hindoo
but the outside—what you see in the streets; nothing beyond.”

It is certain that you will never advance one step towards a knowledge of
the Hindoo character so long as you are ignorant of the language of the country,
and refuse to yield to the national habits. As is the case with all imperfectly
civilised people, the groundwork of their character is an extreme distrust of the
stranger; and when, at a first interview, you clash with it, either by a word of
which you do not understand the exact import, or by ignorance of native manners
and customs, the Hindoo will see in it irony or insult, and, do what you may,
you will never gain his confidence. Punctilious in the extreme on all points of
etiquette, he entrenches himself behind his prejudices, and so bars the door of his
house. In those parts which have retained a semi-independence, the Hindoo
shows himself in his natural character; there he is readily accessible, because he
continues to regard the European as his equal.

Schaumburg rejoined me a few days after; and my first care was to go with
him to make a call on Colonel W , the English Resident, who received us
courteously. Residents at native Courts are officers of high rank in the English
army, who fill the office of ambassadors and representatives of the supreme power
of India—the Queen of England. They deal with subjects relating to Europeans,
and conduct the foreign affairs of the States to which they are accredited. The
traveller arriving in a Hindoo capital is bound to give notice to the Resident,
who has the right, in the case of bad antecedents, to refuse him permission to
stay there.

Next day, the 11th of June, I wrote to the Guicowar, announcing our arrival
in official form, and requesting an interview. The answer came the same evening,
delivered verbally by his private secretary, a Khayet, a clever diplomatist, and
who spoke English very well. The king sent us his salams, and had heard with
pleasure of the arrival of two French travellers (the Hindoos knowing only the
great countries of Europe, the nationality of Belgium was unknown to his majesty,
who had supposed it was only a part of France); but he excused himself from
receiving us for the next few days, pleading important matters of business. I
at first thought this was a polite refusal; but the Khayet added that the rajah
was going to take part in a great Sowari, or procession, next day, and had had a
place in the city made ready from which we could see the whole ceremony.
Moreover, he had given orders that one of the royal carriages and an elephant
should be at our disposal during the whole time of our stay at Baroda, This last
obligation dispelled my suspicions, and I begged the secretary to convey my
thanks to the king.

At the appointed hour, the Khayet, Ruttanram by name, came for us. The

 
92 INDIA.
road was obstructed by a dense crowd hurrying to the festival; and the horse-
men who formed our escort had great difficulty in forcing a way for us by the
use of strong language. The approaches to the river were covered by an immense
multitude, and. all the houses were decorated with banners and oriflammes. At
a little distance, a balcony had been prepared for us, with arm-chairs and carpets,
overlooking a long street, through which the Sowari was to pass. The maharajah
having purchased, a short time before, one of the most celebrated diamonds in
the world, the “Star of the South,” had determined that this jewel should have
the honour of a triumphal entry into his capital, and should be solemnly conveyed
to the temple, to be there blessed by the priests. The crowd, greedy of such
spectacles, had assembled along the line of the procession, and was impatiently
awaiting its approach. I have never since had the opportunity of seeing the
Hindoo people under more beautiful and more amusing colours than on that day.
One might have fancied oneself in the Middle Ages, so strongly did the brilliant
costumes and the demeanour of the crowd recall the descriptions given of that
epoch. Here a group of peasants, with enormous turbans, hand in hand, their
noses in the air and their eyes wide open, are following one of the royal wrestlers
—a giant with the bearing of a pugilist. Their wives, gracefully attired in silks
of Goojerat, profusely covered with heavy ornaments of gold and silver, stop
before the stalls of half-naked fakirs, who are exhibiting idols and relating
legends. Farther on, a number of citizens, merchants, and scribes, clad in white,
with small coloured turbans, and copper ink-bottles hanging from their girdles,
form an animated circle. They criticise the prince’s new acquisition, which can
only bring them fresh imposts. Mahrattas, with coats embroidered with gold,
and rapiers at their sides; Buniahs of the bazaars; poor, half-naked dhers, with
their fierce-looking faces, their simple necklaces of shells, and their bows and
arrows; and gay dancing-girls, in tight pantaloons, followed by their musicians,
pass and repass through the midst of the crowd. Here are the heralds-at-arms
on horseback, with their long trumpets decked with drapery. They are clearing
a way for their lord, who, covered with velvet and precious stones, and his brow
encircled with a sirphej* inlaid with diamonds, which half conceals his cap,
arrives prancing on his horse, which is richly caparisoned. As he passes our
balcony he raises his head, and, seeing us, gracefully salutes us. He is a young
Mahratta noble, who is going with his suite to the palace to join the Sowari.
Elegant rutts,t covered with light gilded domes from which hang silken curtains,
pass along, drawn by white oxen, These are the carriages of the ladies of the
Court, who are going to station themselves behind some marble trellis to witness
the ceremony. ‘The curtains are opened now and then, but so discreetly that
only two beautiful, inquisitive eyes can be seen. Young and pretty slaves,
dressed in rose-colour, sit on the steps of their mistress’s carriage, whose place
they may perhaps take to-morrow. The scenes are infinitely varied. A magnifi-
cent giraffe, saddled, bridled, and splendidly harnessed, is led through the bazaars
by the royal servants, to the great admiration of the multitude, who raised shouts
enough to frighten a less timid animal. The air resounds with a confused uproar
of cries, songs, and music, compared to which the noise of a Parisian féte would
be silence itself. I was never tired of contemplating this spectacle, so new to
me, and so far surpassing all my expectations. I was struck with the love of

* A gold plate which is fixed in front of the turban. + Hindoo carriages.
THE GREAT SOWARI, 93

luxury and the chivalrous tastes of this people. Ruttanram, who observed my

admiration, repeatedly assured me, “This is nothing, Sahib. It is the Sowari of

the great Guicowar that you will find really beautiful.” At last the procession,
e

Dl,
HI

5

 

CARRIAGE OF HINDOO LADY.

 

so impatiently looked for, arrived; the soldiers on duty cleared the way, and the
most profound silence reigned over all.
To describe in detail the cortége which was passing before me for an hour
94 INDIA.

would be a task which I could not undertake, for fear of wearying the reader.
But I can say this, that I have never witnessed in the whole of India, nor even
in Europe, a scene of greater pomp, splendour, and solemnity. When the pro-
cession had passed, I remained completely dazzled by what I had seen. I could
not have believed that there still, even in our days, existed a spot where could
be found, in all their magnificence, the most imposing pageants of the Thousand
and One Nights.

First came the rajah’s regular troops, under the command of European
officers; then corps of Arabs, squadrons of Mahratta cavalry, purdassis, field-
artillery, musketeers, halberdiers, gunners mounted on dromedaries ; lastly, some
regiments of the Guicowar's army. All these took at least an hour to pass,
Behind them came the royal standard-bearer, on a magnificent elephant painted
and covered with embroidered housings. He carried a flag of cloth of gold, the
staff of which was more than forty feet long. He was surrounded by picked
horsemen, whose duty it was to defend the standard in battle. Armed with long
lances and broad ¢udwars,* their hands covered with steel gauntlets, they were
attired with unheard-of richness. Their close-fitting tunics of crimson velvet,
their tight breeches and pointed shoes, formed the most perfect costume for a
cavalier that it is possible to imagine. Some wore a small steel morion, bound
on by the turban, and a Saracen coat of mail; others had thick cuirasses of
buffalo-hide, richly embroidered. Their lance-heads were silver, and their shields
of transparent rhinoceros-skin, adorned with golden bosses. After them came a
perfect regiment of drums of all shapes and sizes, from the huge heavy pair borne
by elephants or camels, down to the little tom-tom: the sight was more agreeable
than the sound. The nobles of the realm followed, each of them covered with
gold and precious stones, and mounted on a horse whose coat could scarcely be
distinguished beneath the trappings and the bridle plated with silver and the
richly embroidered housing. Proudly they rode by, making their horses curvet
in the Mahratta fashion; and their retainers surrounded them, bearing their
banners, while heralds made themselves hoarse with proclaiming the glory and
magnificence of their masters. This blending together of rich vestments, this
clanging of swords and jingling of trinkets, these fine young men on their pran-
cing horses, all these plumes, these lances, these banderols, made up a brilliant
spectacle, before which our grandest ceremonies grow pale.

The nobles were followed by the high functionaries of the realm—the
ministers, the governors of provinces, the chief priests, and the principal courtiers.
Each of these great personages was mounted on a fine elephant, whose immense
covering of gold-fringed velvet hung down to the ground. Twenty-four of these
creatures passed by, with grave and majestic air; it was evident that the intel-
ligent animals appreciated the richness of their ornaments. Most of them had
their trunks and foreheads painted in fantastic designs, and bore on their heads
tall crests of white feathers. Each of the aforesaid dignitaries was seated, cross-
legged, in a rich howdaht of silver; and over his head was a magnificent parasol,
the degree of its richness indicating the rank held at court by its owner.

This part of the procession was really as enchanting as a fairy-scene. With
what taste the whole ceremony had been laid out! How skilfully all these
soldiers, horsemen, and elephants had been grouped so as to strike the feelings

* Curved sabres, + Howdah, “a gala seat,” which is placed on the backs of elephants.
THE GREAT SOWARI. 95

of the multitude! How adroitly the attention had been sustained by this pro-
gressive magnificence up to the king, the culminating point of the Sowari! See
him approach, preceded by his daughter, mounted on a superb elephant. That

HORSEMEN OF THE GUICOWAR’S BODY-GUARD.

it

ml

 

on which the king sits is a gigantic animal. The howdah, of massive go:d—a
present from the Queen of England—sparkles with jewels. The Guicowar is
geated in it on embroidered cushions. He wears a red velvet tunic, over which a
v6 INDIA.
profusion of magnificent jewels is spread; his turban is adorned with an aigrette
of diamonds, amongst which blazes the “Star of the South.” Behind him sits
the prime minister, in a plain dress. On the footboards, on each side of the
elephant, stand four men, clad in elegant attire. One of them carries the hookah
presented to his Majesty by the Viceroy of India; the others wave fans composed
of peacocks’ feathers. Amongst them also is the king’s herald, who every
moment unfolds a large piece of cloth of gold, while he cries out: “Srimunt
Sircar ! Khunderao Guicowar! Sena Khas Khel! Shamshar Bahadoor !” which
signifies, “ Behold the King of Kings, Khunderao Guicowar, whose army is invin-
cible, whose courage is indomitable!” At these words the crowd prostrated
themselves until the elephant had passed. The latter, completely hid under his
ornaments, resembled a mountain of gold sparkling with diamonds. He was
surrounded by men burning perfumes, the blue vapours from which gave the
scene a somewhat mystic character.

When the king was passing our balcony, we rose to salute him; and he
responded with a kind smile and a wave of his hand. Shortly afterwards we
heard the cannon thunder, announcing the moment of the solemn benediction.
Then the cortége repassed in the same order, and it was eight o’clock before we
got back to the captain’s bungalow. I almost fancied, that evening, that I had
been in a dream, as I recalled to memory all the magnificent displays I had
witnessed during the day.

On the 16th of June, Ruttanram came, on behalf of the king, to invite us to
the palace. He got into the carriage with us; and about an hour afterwards we
alighted at the principal entrance, a simple flight of steps, at the summit of
which was stationed the guard, who presented arms to us as we proceeded to
mount one of those narrow, dark staircases I have already described. The rooms
were decorated with tapestry, and had a rich appearance on the whole, though of
small size. We at length reached the immense upper terrace, upon which, on all
sides, rose kiosks and pavilions, some of them four storeys high. This mass of
buildings, planted on the summit of an edifice almost entirely of wood, and whose
foundations were soaking in a damp soil, betokened great audacity on the part of
the architects, and still more confidence on that of the king; for the white ants
could easily bring this imposing structure to the ground in a short time. The
space covered by this palace is so laid out that the terrace forms a labyrinth of
courts and corridors, rendering it necessary to have a guide. We passed through
a gallery the floor of which was literally covered with shoes. This was the
royal antechamber. Oriental etiquette compels every visitor to leave his shoes
at the door before entering the royal presence, Just as, with us, it is usual to take
off the hat. Here was a complete collection of all kinds, from the richly gilt
shoe with its point a foot long, to the small silk slipper. An experienced courtier,
examining these shoes, would have been able to point out to us the rank, caste,
and ages of all the persons at that moment in the king’s presence. Our claim as
Europeans exempted us from the operation of this custom, and we entered,
booted, into the long verandah, where the king was holding his Court. A choubdar,
or usher with a gold stick, made a passage for us through the crowd of applicants,
officers, and courtiers, and announced our arrival to his sovereion by the
customary “Maharaj! Salam!” The king rose, advanced a few steps towards
us, and, Ruttanram having presented us, shook us each by the hand, and made us
THE GUICOWAR OF BARODA. 97

take our seats beside him, on a large, elegantly carved wooden bench, which
served him for a throne. This bench was the only article of furniture in the
gallery, except the stool assigned to Bhao Sahib, commander-in-chief of the royal
forces. All other persons, whatsoever their rank, sat on the floor in the posture
habitual to Orientals. It is, therefore, a high mark of consideration to be allowed
a seat on the royal bench; but, though duly sensible of the honour, I should have
preferred a comfortable chair. However, the Guicowar, detesting cushions as an
effeminate invention, had banished them from his throne. The first moments of
our interview were passed pretty nearly in silence. After a few words expressive
of his sense of the honour we did him, and other customary civilities, he asked
permission to resume his hookah; and, whilst I conversed with Bhao Sahib, he
remained as though absorbed in this interesting occupation, though, in reality, he
wished to study our appearance before engaging in conversation. I acted in the

 

PAVILION IN THE PALACE OF THE GUICOWAR, AT BARODA,

same way with regard to him, and had abundant leisure to see what sort of a
man I had to deal with. He was dressed in a style which contrasted strongly
with the costume he had worn at the Sowari. Tastefully attired in white linen,
with European shoes, he did not display the least particle of embroidery, nor a
single trinket. He was about forty-five years of age, of a robust and well-shaped
figure, but slightly round-shouldered. His face was brown, more by the sun
than through the natural colour of the skin, which was tolerably clear. His
strongly marked features at once gave a perfect idea of this remarkable man, who
to excessive kindness in the ordinary intercourse of daily life, united the most
unheard-of cruelty on other occasions. He had a thin, short beard, which ue
took care to keep rough, in the Mahratta fashion, by brushing it the wrong way ;

and his head was shaved, save a small lock of hair on the nape of the Se His
98 INDIA.

manners were full of courtesy and affability, but somewhat homely. Instead of
holding himself aloof, like the other chieftains, he threw open his palace to all
who had any application to make to him, or any information to give. After
smoking a few minutes, he handed his hookah to a servant, and began to question
me as to the object of my journey, and the length of stay I proposed to make at
Baroda. He was charmed to find me answer him direct in his own language.
We conversed for some hours; during which he passed in review, with much
interest, all the states of Europe, asking me respecting their relative importance,
their revenues, their forms of government, and their intercourse with one another.
He appeared well informed in the affairs of France, England, and Russia, and the
encroachments of the Muscovite Power in Central Asia engaged his attention
considerably. With the other nations he was quite unacquainted. When we
rose to take leave, he held my hand while he expressed the pleasure my visit
had afforded him; and I took it for granted that this was merely a complimentary
form; that he saw in our sojourn a means of recreation, and that was enough for
a man of so capricious a character. But he made me promise that I would come
to see him every morning of my stay at Baroda; and when I tried to excuse my-
self by alleging the great distance between my abode and the palace, he told me
that he would have a residence prepared for me in a place nearer at hand. The
pansopari terminated our interview.

The origin and history of the dynasty of the Guicowars is very interesting.
Their name Guicowar, which they will not exchange for any other title, and of
which they are so proud, signifies, in the Mahratta tongue, “keeper of cows.”
They are descended from one of those families of Kownbis, or peasants, who, after
the reign of Aurungzeb, ranged themselves under the banuer of the Peishwas,
and invaded the Mogul Empire. Pillagi Guicowar, the founder of the dynasty,
commanded a portion of the army of these princes; and in 1724 he gained
possession of the whole kingdom of Goojerat, and subjugated Kattyawar. From
being a domestic servant of the Peishwa, Baji Rao, he had raised himself by his
abilities to the rank of general. In imitation of Scindia and Holkar, he made
himself independent, and invaded by turns the neighbouring countries, not to
enlarge his territory, but to fill his treasury. He died, after having carried pillage
aud disorder throughout the richest provinces of Rajpootana. His successors
strove with Scindia and the English; but, owing to their skilful policy, they
lost only small portions of their territory. One of the last princes was obliged
to implore the aid of the East India Company against his Arab guard, which was
in revolt. Tired of the tranquil state of the country, they had called upon the
king to recommence his pillaging expeditions, and on his refusal, they detained
him prisoner in his own palace. The English troops beat the guards near Baroda,
and, for the purpose of preventing a renewal of disorder, established several
permanent camps in the territories of the Guicowar—camps which he bound
himself by treaty to keep up at his own expense. The present sovereign governs
one of the most extensive independent kingdoms in India, and he has numerous
tributaries in the peninsula of Kattyawar and in the Mhye and Rewa Kantas.

Some days after our visit to the palace, the king sent us word that our
new residence, the Motibaugh, was ready for our reception. The Motibaugh, or
“Garden of Pearls,” is an elegant summer palace, at a little distance from the
suburbs. A long row of buildings, of Hindoo construction, takes up one side of
THE GUICOWAR’S FRIENDSHIP. 99

the garden, which is planted with fruit-trees and pretty shrubberies. Statues,
fountains, and kiosks make it a charming spot; and an enormous pavilion in the
centre contains a well-stocked museum of European curiosities. Near the palace
is a wood of gigantic trees, crossedshere and there by beautiful paths.

Our residence was embellished with everything that could render life in this
country agreeable—coolness, shade, luxurious comfort, and a smiling prospect.
But the Guicowar’s hospitality did not stop there. A numerous staff of servants
had been placed at our disposal, and our table was supplied at his expense with
the choicest dishes and the best wines of Europe.

Once installed at the Motibaugh, I became one of the most frequent guests
at the palace. The weather was very unfavourable, and did not permit of
excursions or of hunting-expeditions. The Guicowar’s friendship for me went

me ML AT
ATT

MIST

   

= CRYEKDR

THE MOTIBAUGH, OUR RESIDENCE IN BARODA.

on increasing; and all the courtiers, attentive to their master’s fancies, showed
the greatest eagerness to oblige me. Thus I passed at the Court an existence
similar to that of European society in the Middle Ages. Amongst my new
friends, the one I valued the most was Bhao Sahib, the king’s favourite minister.
The freedom of his manners, and the esteem he manifested towards me, without
importing into it the vulgarity that marked some of the other courtiers, pleased
me, and we became, in the sequel, very intimate. Endowed with great energy
of character and considerable talent, he had arrived by slow degrees at the dis-
tinguished post, as before mentioned, of commander-in-chief, and by his counsels
had made himself so useful to the sovereign that the latter would always have
him by his side. In the -morning, when he awoke, the Guicowar called Ene,
and did not open his eyes until this faithful servant was in his presence; “in
order,” said he to me, “that the first person I see may produce an agreeable
INDIA.

100

impression upon me, for it is upon the good or bad disposition of the morning
that the affairs of the rest of the day depend.” The king had reserved for me a
pavilion in his palace, where I could pass the hours of the siesta, without return-
ing to the Motibaugh ; and Schaumburg had there established his atelier, in
which he painted the portraits of the king and Bhao, and several views of Baroda
and the neighbourhood. We were continually receiving visits in it. Whilst the
king was occupied with affairs of state, or was taking his repose, the pavilion of
the Sahibs became the rendezvous of all the young nobles connected with the
palace. We formed a noisy assemblage ; some singing, others reciting Hindoo
stories: and sometimes one of the choubdars would come and beg us to respect
the royal siesta. The ladies of the zenana had heard the strange visitors spoken
of, and our presence greatly piqued their curiosity. Very often, on entering the
pavilion in the morning, I found that our books had been opened and our paints
disturbed by some young ladies of the Court and their attendants. Though at
first somewhat timid in our presence, these girls soon became quite familiar.
They would upset the chairs and easels, and make the room resound with their
laughter. In short, all the inmates of the palace considered us the friends of
the sovereign, and treated us accordingly. The Guicowar, however, himself set
the example. In the morning on our arrival, he received us with a smile ex-
pressive of extreme amiability, and, advancing to meet us, shook hands. The
courtiers therefore were all attention, and I had to receive their sal4ms for more
than half an hour at a time.

The palace at Baroda contains no curiosities. It is striking only from its
immense size. As for the apartments, they are adorned with great luxury and
little taste. The furniture and other articles of European manufacture contrast
with Hindoo hangings and sculptured columns. The royal treasury occupies
certain large rooms, with thick walls and iron doors, guarded by numerous
sentinels. I was shown over it by Bhao Sahib. As the scanty supply of light
in the chambers where the crown jewels were kept prevented me from examining
them, the king had them brought to our pavilion. The servants laid out this
dazzling collection on the tables and chairs; and it certainly was the most
beautiful that could be imagined in the way of precious stones—streams of
diamonds, diadems, necklaces, rings, bracelets, costumes and mantles embroidered
with pearls and precious stones of marvellous richness. Conspicuous among
these jewels, whose value might be reckoned by hundreds of thousands, was a
necklace which the rajah had lately had made, in which sparkled the famous
“Star of the South,” the “Star of Dresden,” and other diamonds of remarkable
size; probably the richest necklace in the world. The Guicowar came in and
found me admiring a magnificent Hindoo costume. The coat, the pantaloons, and
the scarf were of black silk, covered with delicate embroidery in pearls, rubies,
and emeralds; the shoes, the epaulettes, and the turban glittered with diamonds.
I assured the king that I had never seen anything so beautiful, even in the
Exhibitions of Paris and London. An odd notion occurring to him whilst I
was paying him these compliments, he begged me to put on the costume. He
should be glad, he said, to see the effect of such a beautiful dress when worn
by some one else. I knew that, in accordance with etiquette, no one could
place the royal mantle on his shoulders without being guilty of a criminal
offence ; but I was exempt from this law, and so went into an adjoining room
A GREAT REVIEW. 101

to attire myself. The servants clothed me from head to foot; the necklace
of the “Star of the South” was hung round my neck, and the insignia
of the “Star of India” were attached to my breast. I put on the royal diadem,
and came out of my chamber; gmhen I was received with cries of “Salim!
Guicowar Maharaj!” which I acknowledged with becoming gravity. As for
the Guicowar himself, he was delighted to see how well I entered into the
pleasantry. The nobles came to offer me marks of respect, and Khunderao
insisted on my retaining my new dignity for at least an hour. I felt crushed
beneath the enormous weight of these jewels, and it was with great pleasure that
I abdicated my assumed royalty.

Some time afterwards I was talking with the Guicowar on the subject of the
regular army which he had organised, and I complimented him on the result.
These troops, dressedand armed
like the Sepoys in the Eng-
lish service, and commanded
by European officers, consti-
tute an imposing force of artil-
lery, cavalry, and infantry.
To them must be added the
irregular forces, whose sum
total may be estimated at
about five thousand.* One
of the batteries of artillery,
devoted to the special service
of the king, has silver guns;
it bears the pompous title of
Dulbadul, or “the cloud of
smoke.” These two corps form
the royal body-guard. The
Guicowar asked if I would
like to be present at a review ;
and the next day, at three
o’clock, Bhao Sahib informed
us that one was about to take
place, and that the king had
ordered him to accompany
us. One of the Court equi-
pages took us to the parade-
ground, where we found the
whole force drawn up in line.
Saddle-horses had been provided for us, and General Devine, an Irishman, who
was in command of the division, with his staff, joined us. I was overcome with
confusion to learn from him that the review had been ordered specially in our
honour. We took our places—Schaumburg and myself—between the general
and Bhao Sahib, and, followed by the staff, rode down in front of the line. Each

* The late Khunderao Guicowar, during the rebellion in 1857, placed his troops at the disposal of the

British Resident, Sir Richmond Shakespear ; and a brigade of the best troops of the State was stationed
at Dohud, ninety miles from the capital, during the siege of Delhii—Ep.

 

BAYADERE, OR DANCING-GIRL, BARODA.
INDIA.

102

regiment, as we approached, presented arms, and the bands played “God save
the Queen.”

The Guicowar maintains at his Court a few jesters, who are personages of
some importance. Their pleasantries, sometimes in very bad taste, spare no one,
Ranged round the throne, ‘they attack with their sallies even the nobles who come
to pay their addresses to the king; and these great men often stand in need of
all their native Hindoo sense of dignity to preserve their gravity. They play a
thousand tricks on the courtiers, tying their scarves together or knocking off their
turbans. As to the king, the more successful the pleasantry the more he laughs,
even to convulsions, upon his bench: but this is only the case in the intimacy
of private life) When he engages in any ceremonial or official proceeding, the
calm dignity of the Hindoo prevails.

Several young and pretty girls, covered with trinkets and attired in thin
chemises, mingle with the strange and motley crowd that fills the palace. These
are bayadéres, or dancing-girls ; who have perfect liberty to go wherever they
please. They enter the king’s apartments, seat themselves on the floor, and
converse boldly with persons of the very highest rank. This singular privilege
accorded to the bayadéres is of very great service: their presence makes up, in
some slight degree, for the absence of the ladies shut up in their zenana,

At evening the strains of the lute resound on every side; the chambers and
the terraces are illuminated, and brilliant circles are formed around these charming
nautchnis, whose songs and dances give quite a festal aspect to the palace. In
the meantime the king and his ministers hold their kutchery* and discuss State
affairs, whilst they smoke their hookahs. As for us, it is nearly ten o’clock
before we regain the solitude of the Motibaugh.

* Council.
CHAPTER 1X.

BARODA.—(Continued,)

The Haghur.—Fight between Elephants, Rhinoceroses, Buffaloes, &c.—The Wrestlers.—The
Nucki-ka-koustiitThe Disobliging Astrologers.—A Misadventure--The Royal Train.—
Antelope Hunting.—Leopards for Hunting Purposes.—“Pig-sticking.”—The Guicowar’s
Birthday.—Tiger Hunting.—The Plains of Goojerat,—A Night on a Tree.—The Royal
Menagerie.

OWARDS the end of June the rains gave us a little respite,
and the Guicowar availed himself of this break in the season
to commence the series of fétes he had promised to give us.
These consisted of hunting-parties, tilting-matches, and com-
bats. Every day brought a new programme.

The Court of the Guicowars is the only one in India that
has preserved, down to the present time, the customs of the Middle Ages in their
‘primitive splendour. The impoverishment of their estates has compelled most of
the other rajahs to despoil these great ceremonies of a considerable portion of
their former luxury, and amongst some of the others English influence has
introduced European habits, higher objects, and better tastes. Here this mixture
is never seen; everything bears the impress of the Hindoo character, and displays
the originality of past times.

The contests of athletes and animals are what the Guicowar prefers to all
other entertainments ; and he spends enormous sums upon them. Of an ardent
and somewhat truculent character, he is passionately fond of these exciting and
cruel sports, in which the lives of men are endangered. He personally super-
intends every arrangement that concerns them, and indulges in a liberality that
borders on extravagance in their promotion. His parks contain numbers of
elephants, employed specially for combats; and rarely does a week elapse
without one of these spectacles. The elephant, which is in general an animal of
a most gentle disposition, can be brought by a system of exciting nourishment to
a state of rage which the Indians call musth. He then becomes furious, and
attacks whatever comes in his way, men oranimals. The males alone are capable
of becoming musthi, and, to bring them to this state, it is usually necessary to
feed them with sugar and butter for three months.

The Guicowar one day informed me, with evident good-humour, that all
preparations had been made, and on the morrow would be held the first combat
of elephants. We went to see the two animals which were to fight, and upon
which many wagers had already been staked. These immense brutes were loaded
with iron chains of considerable weight, and shut up separately in strongly fenced

 
se INDIA.

enclosures. A dense crowd was pressing round them, praising and criticising the
good qualities or defects of each. The king went to and fro in the midst of the
courtiers, like a private individual, gesticulating and shouting like the others.
The betting was carried on with spirit; and I laid wagers with the king, Bhao,
and several others, merely for the sake of following the general example, for I
should have been puzzled to decide on the merits of one animal over those of the
other. :

Next morning, Harybidada, the grand-huntsman, came in a carriage to the
Motibaugh, to take me to the Haghuroo, or elephants’ arena. A fine portico leads
into a spacious court, surrounded by brick buildings faced with carved stones,
the whole bearing a great resemblance to the style of Francis I. We passed
through some dark and deserted rooms, and entered the king’s box, where the
principal officers of the Court had already assembled. Three arm-chairs had been
placed for the king and ourselves, and cushions for the nobles. The arena, of
which we commanded a complete view, is in the form of a vast parallelogram,
about three hundred yards long by two hundred wide. It is entirely surrounded
by thick walls; a great number of narrow doors allow of entrance or exit to the
attendants, without permitting the elephant to follow them. The summits of the
walls are provided with balconies, open to the public, who seem passionately fond
of spectacles of this kind. The roofs of the neighbouring houses, even the trees,
are covered with a motley and, as usual, noisy crowd. On an elevated mound
are placed the female elephants, and these, it appears, have a decided taste for
such sights. In the arena itself are the two males, each chained to one of the
extremities ; expressing their wrath by trumpetings, and fiercely digging their
tusks into the sand. By instinct the elephant always recognises his mahout, or
driver, and allows him to approach him even while in this condition. Gracefully
formed young men, nearly naked, are walking about in groups. These are the
sdtmari-wallahs, who play the same part here as the toreadors at bull-fights in
Spain, and whom I may be allowed to call elephantadors. They wear nothing but
a light, coloured turban, and a scanty, tight-fitting pair of drawers, which give the
elephant nothing to lay hold of. The most active carry only a horsewhip and a veil
of red silk; others are armed with long lances; and, lastly, a small number have
only a fuse fastened to the end of a stick, and a lighted match. These last have
the least showy but the most important functions to perform. They must post
themselves at different points of the arena, and run to the rescue of the elephan-
tador, when in danger. Rushing in front of the infuriated animal, they flash
their fuses in his face, when he recoils in terror, and they succour the wounded.
But they are not allowed to have recourse to this stratagem unless there is real
danger. If they make a mistake, they are reprimanded; if they allow the
matador to be killed, they are severely punished. They are all selected from
among the handsomest and best-made men that can be procured, and are endowed
with wonderful agility.

A few minutes after our arrival, the Guicowar entered the box and took his
seat between us. At a given signal the arena is cleared for the contest, Each
mahout seats himself on the neck of his elephant, the chains are cast loose, and
the two animals are in full view. After an instant’s hesitation, they approach
one another, with their trunks raised, and trumpeting fiercely; their pace increases,
and they meet in the centre of the arena. Their foreheads strike together, and
AN ELEPHANT-.FIGHT. 105

the violence of the shock is so great that their fore feet give way, and they remain
leaning against each other. They wrestle with their trunks, which they entwine
like arms, and the mahouts have sometimes to defend themselves with their goads.
For some minutes the elephants remain head to head, until one of them, finding
himself growing gradually weak, feels that he is going to be conquered. It isa
critical moment, for the creature well knows that in taking flight he must present
his flank to the enemy, who may pierce him with his tusks or throw him prostrate.
The worsted one, therefore, summoning up all his strength, pushes his adversary
back by one desperate thrust, and takes flight. The combat is decided; shouts
re-echo on all sides, and the spectators are occupied more with their wagers than
with the elephants, The vanquished one has now to be taken away, and the field
left free to the conqueror. A party of men come with great iron pincers, indented,
with long handles united by a spring. They skilfully fix a pair on one of the
hind legs of each elephant, where, through the operation of the spring, they remain
tight. The long handles get entangled with the other three legs, and, as the teeth
of the pincers at every step bite a little into the skin, the elephant stops short.
He is forthwith surrounded, chained, bound with cords, and, if vanquished, is led
by a band of armed men behind the arena. The victor remains alone ; his mahout.
dismounts, the pincers and fetters are removed, and the sdémari commences. This
is the second act—a combat between the elephant and men. The arena is
invaded by elephantadors and fuse-bearers, this brilliant troupe, with loud cries,
approaching the elephant from every side. The latter, taken aback by this sudden
onslaught, stands undecided at first; but soon he receives a stroke of the whip on
the trunk, the lances prick him all over, and he rushes with fury on one or other
of his assailants. One comes in: front and waves his red veil; the elephant
pursues him, but, constantly plagued in this way, he repeatedly changes his course,
and never catches any one. After a short time spent in useless efforts, he at
length perceives his mistake, and changes his tactics: he waits. Then one of
the best elephantadors advances, gives him a vigorous stroke with his whip, and
springs on one side just as the trunk is on the point of seizing him. But the
elephant does not let him go in safety. This time he has fixed on his.enemy, and
nothing will make him abandon him: all that remains for the fugutive is to reach
one of the small doors, and so make his escape out of the arena. The animal,
blind with rage, strikes the wall, and, fancying he has at last got hold of his
assailant, furiously tramples the soil. He who has not seen the elephant in one of
these combats, or in a wild state, can form no idea of the rapidity of his course.
A man pursued, and having to run some two hundred yards before he could find
shelter, would infallibly be lost. In the first combat at which I was present the
elephant resolutely pursued a young man, who was a very good runner, and, in
spite of the thrusts of lances with which he was assailed, never lost sight of him
for an instant. The unhappy man made desperate efforts to gain one of the
outlets ; but, just as he reached it, the creature’s trunk seized him by the wrist,
lifted him into the air, and dashed him violently to the earth. A moment more
and the enormous foot, already raised, would have crushed his skull, when one of
the fuse-bearers sprang in front of the elephant and covered him with flames, and
the terrified animal fled bellowing away.

At last the trumpets sound, and I see the elephantadors disappear through
the small doors, The elephant does not understand the meaning of this sudden
1a INDIA.
flight, and appears to be on the look-out for some unexpected attack. A door
opens, and a Mahratta horseman, lance in hand, and mounted on a beautiful
steed, enters the arena. Prancing up to our balcony, he gracefully salutes the
king. I remark that the horse has his tail cut very short, and I am told that
this is to prevent the elephant laying hold of him. ‘The latter runs towards him
with his trunk raised aloft, in order to annihilate the creature whom he hates
most of all. He has, in fact, a peculiar aversion for the horse, which he manifests

even in his gentlest moments. This third act of the combat is the most attractive. .
The horse, admirably trained, does not stir, save by order of his rider; so that the

latter allows the elephant almost to touch him with his trunk before getting out

of his way. He attacks the enormous beast with his lance, sometimes in front,

sometimes in flank, driving him into a paroxysm of rage. But even at this

moment the elephant displays his extraordinary intelligence. Pretending to take

no notice of the horseman, he allows him to approach behind ; and, suddenly

turning round with astounding rapidity, he is on the point of seizing the horse,

who only saves himself by a desperate bound. At length the combat terminates ;

the horseman again salutes us and withdraws, and the pincer-bearers enter,

welcomed by the shouts of the crowd, to secure the elephant. These poor fellows

have hard work of it, for the elephant charges them, and they have great difficulty

in bringing it to a stand-still. The king calls before him the fuse-bearer who

saved the life of the s4tmari-wallah, and rewards him with a piece of figured stuff

and a purse of five hundred rupees.

Another sort of combat, though not so attractive nor on so grand a scale, is
not wanting in originality; I mean rhinoceros-fights. The two animals are
chained at opposite extremities of the arena. One is painted black, the other
red, in order that they may be distinguished, for otherwise they resemble each
other in every point. When the company is assembled (I am describing a
scene of which I was a witness), the two hideous animals are let loose, and start
off in an ungainly trot, raising angry cries. They seem to have very bad sight,
for they pass one another several times without stopping; but at length they
meet, and attack each other fiercely. Horn against horn, they exchange passes,
as though fencing with swords, until one succeeds in passing his horn beneath
the head of his antagonist, which is their vulnerable spot. The animal, therefore,
who finds himself in this predicament suddenly turns, so that the point of the
enemy’s horn rests against his jaw-bone, instead of penetrating his throat. They
remain in this position, motionless, for some minutes, then separate, and one of
them takes to flight. For a whole hour the fight is many times renewed with
increasing fury; their horns clashing together with a great noise, their enormous
lips covered with foam, and their foreheads stained with blood. Their attendants
surround them, and throw buckets of water over them to refresh them, so that
they may sustain the combat. At last the Guicowar orders a cessation of
hostilities; a fuse is employed to separate the combatants; they are secured,
sponged, and led away.

In these beast-fights buffaloes also display a terrible degree of fury. Their
vast horns are formidable weapons that repel the tiger himself, and their agility
makes them more dangerous than even the elephant. But the oddest of all
these contests was one I saw one day, in the hdghur at Baroda, between an ass
and an hyena, and—who would have thought it ?—the ass gained the victory!
A RHINOCEROS-FIGHT. 107

The sight of the hyena filled him with such rage that he immediately attacked,
and, by dint of kicking and biting, very soon disabled him. The victor was
covered with garlands of flowers, and led off amid the cheers of the multitude.

RHINOCEROS-FIGHT AT BARODA,

 

ie

i i
. | is

|

The Guicowar’s passionate love of this kind of entertainment is not limited
to combats between animals of every description that can be trained for the
purpose. He also keeps at his court a perfect army of athletes, who are cele-

“
108 INDIA.

brated throughout the whole of India. He, himself, glories in being a pehlwan,
or wrestler, and devotes himself daily to this exercise. Every morning, after
performing his ablutions, he goes on to the terrace and wrestles with one of his
pehlwans. Of consummate skill as an amateur, he is exceedingly jealous of his
powers, and would assuredly be enraged if the wrestler allowed him to detect
the least mark of condescension at this game. The latter is therefore obliged to
strive freely with the king, and nevertheless, like a good courtier, to allow him
to claim the victory. These wrestlers are recruited in all the provinces of India,
but they come principally from the Punjaub and Travancore. Brought up from
their infancy in the profession, they attain an extraordinary development of
muscle. Their diet, their mode of living, and their dwellings are all regulated
by the king himself, who tends them somewhat as he does his fighting buffaloes
and elephants. The wrestling-day is always announced a long time beforehand ;
very often the neighbouring rajahs send their pehlwans to compete; bets are
freely made, and great animation prevails throughout the Court.

The first contest was held on the 19th of July, and we went to the haghur
to witness it. The king and his courtiers had already arrived, and were seated
on chairs round an arena strewn with sand. They were only waiting for us, and
we had scarcely taken our seats when two men, half naked, formed like Hercules
himself, came forward to salute the king; then, taking up their position in the
centre of the circle, they fraternally embraced, and closed with one another. The
rule at these wrestlings is, that one of the combatants is to throw the other on
his back on the ground, or at least to compel him to declare himself vanquished.
When, therefore, one holds the other doubled up under him and cannot succeed
in forcing him down, he twists his wrist and tries to break it; the other then
cries for quarter. But the ardour they import into these games is such that very
frequently they prefer to bear the pain than to confess themselves beaten, and it
is necessary abruptly to put an end to the combat.

Another sort of combat, much more terrible than those already mentioned,
and which is only to be seen nowadays at Baroda, is the Nucki-ka-kousti, that is
to say, “fight with claws.” Here the combatants, almost naked, but adorned
with crowns and garlands, tear each other with claws of horn. These claws were
formerly of steel, and caused certain death to one or other of the combatants ;
but they have been abolished, as too barbarous for modern times. Those now in
use, are, as I have said, of horn, and are fixed on the closed fist with thongs, I
was only once present at a combat of this kind, for my heart was so moved by
the horrible spectacle that I refused to go again. The wrestlers, intoxicated
with béng—liquid opium, mixed with an infusion of hemp—sing as they rush
upon one another; their faces and heads are soon covered with blood, and their
frenzy knows no bounds. The king, with wild eyes and the veins of his neck
swollen, surveys the scene with such passionate excitement that he cannot remain
quiet, but imitates by gestures the movements of the wrestlers. The arena is
covered with blood; the defeated combatant is carried off, sometimes in a dying
condition; and the conqueror, the skin of his forehead hanging down in stripes,
prostrates himself before the king, who places round his neck a necklace of fine
pearls, and covers him with garments of great value. One episode, moreover,
disgusted me to such a degree that, without any heed of the effect my sudden
departure might have upon the Guicowar, I at once withdrew. One of the
THE “FIGHT WITH CLAWS.”

10g

wrestlers, whom the bdng had only half intoxicated, after receiving the first few
blows, made a show of wishing to escape; his antagonist threw him, and they
rolled together on the ground before us. The victor, seeing the unhappy wretch

e

 

 

THE NUCKI-KA-KOOSTI, AT BARODA,

demand quarter, turned to the king to know whether he should let the other rise:
but, inflamed with the spectacle, the monarch cried out, “ Maro! maro!” (Strike!
strike !) and the scalp of the unfortunate fellow was torn without mercy. When
he was taken away he had lost all consciousness. That same day, the king
INDIA.

110

distributed amongst the victorious wrestlers necklaces and money to the amount
of more than four thousand pounds.

The Guicowar was exceedingly superstitious. For several days we postponed
our hunting-parties because the astrologers had not been able to fix on a suitable
day to commence them. Every morning the venerable pundits, adjusting their
spectacles, arranged themselves in a circle, and made a pretence of consulting
certain tables of copper covered with cabalistic signs, At the end of an hour, one
of them would approach us, shaking his head, and announce to the king, with a
melancholy air, that the omens were not favourable. What their intentions were
in acting thus I could not comprehend, and the pleasantry seemed to me to be
carried a little too far. Happily, the king at last showed himself so greatly
annoyed, and manifested so keen a desire to follow my advice and leave the
astrologers to con over their conjuring-books, that permission was given us next
day.

; On the morning of the day appointed, the elephants, with their howdahs,
were assembled in front of the palace; horsemen came and went, carrying orders
to the villages where we were to go, and the crowd of attendants of all kinds
were keeping up a famous noise. The king had an elephant to himself; I shared
one with Bhao Sahib, and Schaumburg another with Harybadada. We formed a
gay company, with our numerous escort of horsemen and runners, while palan-
quins accompanied us carrying rifles, ammunition, and provisions. The king,
happy to resume one of his favourite exercises, laughed loudly at the jests and
sallies which the jesters, perched on an elephant, launched at the crowd or the
courtiers. It had been reported that a small wood, close to the village of
Courlagaum, harboured a family of leopards, and the king loudly declared that
we should certainly carry their skins back to Baroda. This was on the 22nd
of July, and the air was charged with a slight moisture, which enlivened the
foliage of the trees and the verdure of the fields. The sky, lightly covered with
clouds, betokened a good hunting-day. The rainy season is not so severe in
these parts as in the south; and, although June and October are very wet, the
intervening months are like our summer.

On leaving the village of Binagaum, we found the ground so saturated with
the late tempestuous showers that the elephants sank several feet into it, and
we were obliged to abandon them. We mounted on horseback, and then proceeded
two or three miles, till we reached a nullah (torrent), deep and strong, the
passage of which threw us somewhat into confusion, and took us a full hour.
When we got to the other side, there was a fresh source of embarrassment: the
horses sank up to their knees in the soft soil, and their efforts to free themselves
brought us into complete disorder, and many horsemen were thrown. Mean-
while, a fine rain began to fall. The Guicowar was in despair; and, if the
astrologers had seen us in this pitiable plight, they would certainly have enjoyed
a good laugh at our expense.

There was nothing for it but to give up the chase, and get home the best
way we could. The signal was given, and every one exerted himself to regain
terra firma. The king, with frowning brow, let his horse guide himself, When
we were able to take a gallop, I placed myself at his side, and we set off full
speed for Baroda. I would not, for a good deal, have addressed a word to him at
that moment. We were followed by those courtiers who were best mounted, and
ANTELOPE-HUNT AT ETOLA., | III

every one maintained a profound silence. When we reached the nearest houses
of the city I asked permission to retire to the Motibaugh, and left him at liberty
to continue his gallop through the streets, together with his band of courtiers.
I saw Bhao in the evening, and ghe told me the king had loudly expressed his
vexation. What annoyed him most was our presence in the midst of such
disappointment. He asked himself, with much simplicity, what we could think
of a prince who, after making us wait a long time, had given us a run through
mud and rain instead of a hunt. When I saw him myself on the following day,
I consoled him as well as I could; and a few jests from the buffoons, and a
promise from the astrologers that the next hunting-party would be more success-
ful, served to make him forget the unhappy incident,

To make up for that bad day, the grand huntsman received orders to
get up a great antelope-hunt in the royal preserves at Etola. The railway
would take us as far as the meet; and, before we started, Harybidada declared
he would answer for it with his head that the Binagaum mishap would not be
repeated, and that we should find the ground in good condition. Careful pre-
parations were made; and, a special train having been placed at the king’s
disposal, on the 2nd of September we got into the royal carriage—a present to
the Guicowar from the Railway Company, in acknowledgment of his concession
to them of the line. It was a rich and elegant saloon, hung with brocaded
silks, and sumptuously furnished in the Eastern style; in the centre of which
was a throne, intended for his Majesty’s use, but which he never occupied. The
Guicowar had but little faith in any European inventions. When he travelled
by rail, he made his favourite, Bhao Sahib, get on the engine, thinking by that
expedient to shield his person against all accidents; but this was a vain pre-
caution. It would only require a bribe from conspirators to send the king and
all his Court to a better world; for, in this country, any means of getting rid of
an enemy are held good.

We arrived without hindrance at the Etola station, where were assembled
the attendants and the horses. None of us had guns provided for us; and,
when I expressed my astonishment thereat to the king, he pointed to two
beautiful cheetahs, or hunting leopards. These animals were to carry on the
chase for us. Each of them was lying in a palanquin carried by four men, and
was secured by a small chain. They had their eyes covered. with a little hood
of leather, and remained perfectly quiet in the midst of the surrounding tumult.
The hunters, or rather the lookers-on at the hunt, are in great force; and they
are divided into two parties—one under the orders of the king, the other under
Bhao. Schaumburg and I were of the king’s party, and were soon on horseback
by his side; some Scindian, Mahratta, and a few Mussulman horsemen forming
a picturesque suite. All were in hunting-costume; that is to say, the Indians
were in grey or green, and the rest of us in felt helmets and boots of samber*
hide. We marched in close order, surrounding the palanquin that contained
our cheetah. On all sides appeared herds of antelopes, which looked at us with
curiosity, or took to flight. The tactics of this sport consists in getting near to a
herd by means of divers evolutions, always keeping to leeward of them, for
otherwise the bucks speedily get wind of the cheetah, and take to flight. The
horsemen themselves inspire these animals with very little distrust, as they are

* The great Indian deer.
Bee INDIA.

daily in the habit of seeing people in the fields, and have never heard a gun-
shot. When the king considered we were at a proper distance to Jet go the
cheetah, the party halted; the animal was released from the palanquin, and the
hood removed from its eyes. It remained motionless for an instant, then
bounded towards the herd, which fled on perceiving its approach; when, with
two or three springs, it fastened upon one of them, and brought it to the ground.
The huntsmen followed at a gallop, to be in at the death. The cheetah held
the prey with its claws, and plunged its teeth into the creature’s neck, until an
attendant came up, replaced the hood over its eyes, and with some difficulty
dragged it away from its banquet. By way of amends, it was given a porringer-
ful of the antelope’s blood, after which it was replaced in its palanquin, and the
chase was resumed. The most curious thing is that the cheetah never attacks
the does or the fawns, but always seizes one of the bucks. If there is only one
in the whole herd, it passes by all the rest and assails him. After making
several captures the animal became fatigued, and then the chase began to be
more interesting, for it often happens that the black buck, when attacked, defends
himself bravely with his horns, and escapes with a few scratches. The male
antelope is a magnificent animal; its horns are spiral, and measure more than
two feet in length. He is distinguished from the does by a black band across
the back, which increases with age, and reaches, in the oldest, down to the belly,
which is always of a brilliant white.

By evening we had taken several superb bucks. The king then gave the
signal to return, and set off at a gallop. When we arrived at our rendezvous, we
found the party commanded by Bhao, which, less fortunate than ourselves, had
brought back only a few antelopes. Tents were pitched in a beautiful glade
surrounded by fine trees, and a sumptuous repast awaited us. The spectacle was
most animated. The Court servants passed to and fro burdened with great
dishes ; the attendants dismembered the game and placed it on camels; elephants
arrived from Baroda with torchbearers to show us the way ; and the last rays of
the sun gilded the scene, and lighted up the groups of courtiers, soldiers, and
horses. Alter dinner the cavalcade was formed; we mounted on the elephants,
and our entry into Baroda was made amid the glare of torches and the sound of
tom-toms and hautboys.

We continued these sports for several days. On one occasion the huntsmen,
instead of being on horseback, were on Mahratta cars, drawn by oxen. These
are small vehicles on two wheels, very light, and upset on the slightest shock to
their equilibrium. It may easily be imagined what an effect is produced when
they are driven rapidly over broken ground covered with brushwood. The little
oxen that draw them are of great speed and endurance, and the sight of the
cheetahs greatly excites them. Falls are frequent, but, happily, not very
dangerous, and only create merriment. The jolting of these cars is the most
disagreeable thing connected with them, as they are made entirely of wicker-
work, and have no springs.

One of the most interesting sports is boar-hunting, which the English call
“pig-sticking.” The country in the neighbourhood of Baroda affords every
facility for this kind of chase, and the Guicowar often gave us the opportunity
of witnessing it. The huntsmen, to the number generally of eight or ten, are on
horses well trained and accustomed to this exercise; each one provided with a
A TIGER-HUNT. 113

short lance, about six or eight feet in length, with a very sharp steel point. They
are accompanied by servants carrying a fresh supply of lances to replace those
that may be broken or lost. The beaters cut off a herd of boars and drive them
down in front of the field, who them set off, lance in rest, after them. Frequently
the boar attacked, which is always the finest and strongest, charges the horses and
inflicts terrible wounds on them with his tusks. The instant the lance is planted
in the back of the boar, the horse must be turned, so as to avoid the assault of
the infuriated animal. This is the great difficulty in this kind of sport; great
coolness and confidence in one’s horse being absolutely indispensable.

About the beginning of September we returned to the Motibaugh, to rest
ourselves after the fatigues of the chase. My friend, Tatia Sahib Kilidar, whose
summer palace, the Hirabaugh, or “ Palace of Diamonds,” was near ours, chose
that time to give me several brilliant fétes. We had grand dinners, followed by
fireworks and dances. Here the nautchnis—chosen from among the prettiest
dancing-girls in the city—-performed, in the illuminated gardens, ballets, which,
without violating the rules of propriety, had nothing of the conventional stiffness
of the official nautches. Lightly clad, those lovely girls played, in that theatre of
nature, pantomimes full of that languid voluptuousness peculiar to the East.

On the 12th of September we were present at a great ceremony held at the
royal palace in honour of the Guicowar’s birthday. His Majesty, in grand state
costume, seated on his throne in the Chamber of Durbars, received the homage of
all the nobles and chief ministers of the Crown. Each, advancing to the throne,
knelt on one knee, and presented to the king his nuzewrana or tribute, whilst the
heralds proclaimed his name and titles. The nuzzwrana consists of several pieces
of gold, placed on a folded silk handkerchief, which the noble carries in the palm
of his hand. The king touches the tribute, which is received by the proper
minister, and salutes the donor, who then rises and goes to his place. After the
presentations the nautchnis enter, and dance for about half an hour.

On the day of the royal féte it is the custom to deduct a day’s pay from all
those employed under the Crown—from the domestic servant at the palace and
the private soldier up to the prime minister and the commander-in-chiet,—the
considerable sum thus acquired being, professedly, a birthday present to the king.

About the beginning of October, the fine weather having pretty well set in for
good, I availed myself of an opportunity that offered itself to explore the ruins of
the ancient city of Champaneer, about fifty miles east of Baroda. Captain Lynch,
of the Guicowar’s army, had organised a tiger-hunt, and had invited Schaumburg
and myself to join it. Tatia Sahib, who accompanied us, had obtained permission
to employ the beaters and huntsmen of the royal hunting establishment. The
plains which extend between Champaneer and the capital are remarkably dry,
which is the more strange in that the surrounding country is singularly fertile.
The surface is so flat that, at first sight, one would judge them to be admirably
suited for cavalry manceuvres ; but, after proceeding a short distance, the traveller
finds himself every moment checked by deep ravines of great width. It would
be very expensive to lay down a permanent way across this tract, on account of
the great number of bridges that would have to be constructed.

At Champaneer we found our tents pitched, and a great number of attendants
and several elephants sent by the king. We were encamped at a short distance

from the lofty walls of the ancient city, whose circumference is about twelve
H
ia INDIA.

miles. Within, there is merely a thick forest, with ruins scattered here and there ;
a few beautiful Mahometan minarets rearing their high towers above the jungle,
and broken walls in various places marking the sites of the ancient palaces,
Immediately in rear of the city rises the superb mountain of Pawangurh, crowned
by a famous fortress. It now belongs to the English, and is only used by them
as an occasional refuge from the heat of the plains.

From the first day of our arrival shikarees (beaters) had been sent into the
forest to try and discover the tracks of some tiger. As the nature of the ground
did not admit of the employment of elephants, and as I was not anxious, by way
of a beginning, to find myself face to face with one of these terrible animals, a
look-out was established. For this purpose a tree was selected, and sundry planks,
placed across the branches, formed the hunter’s post of observation. To attract
the tiger to this spot, an ox was tied up to a neighbouring bush. On the morrow
the shikarees found its body half devoured, and it was decided that the hunt
should take place that same evening. At four o’clock, Lynch, Schaumburg, Tatia,
and I were perched on our tree, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the tiger, our
eyes fixed on the carcase of the ill-fated ox that had served as a bait. Night
came on apace, and perfect darkness enveloped the whole jungle. The slightest
sound made us start, and we expected every moment to see the gleaming eyes of
the ferocious monster. But I think, if it had come, we should have had con-
siderable difficulty in shooting it. Only a few jackals came to sniff at the prey,
but we drove them off. I shall long remember that night in the forest, uncom-
fortably perched as I was on a plank, and shivering with cold. The first streaks
of dawn were appearing, and, disappointed with our long watch, we were going to
regain our tents, when a shikaree on a neighbouring tree attracted our attention
by his movements. A few moments afterwards there was a crackling sound
amongst the brushwood, and I perceived the long-wished-for tiger, who was
coming slowly and cautiously, as though scenting an ambuscade. He had scarcely
entered the glade that surrounded our tree when all four of us fired, almost
simultaneously. Each of us, wrought into a high state of excitement by our
sleepless night, was unwilling to lose the chance of a shot, and so was eager to
fire. The tiger stopped short, bewildered; one ball had shattered his hind foot, -
and another, which had entered his side, must have wounded him severely. After
an instant’s hesitation, he plunged at a bound into the forest. The shikarees
came down from their post and went in pursuit; and we followed their example:
but my legs were so benumbed that I could scarcely walk. Abundant traces of
blood showed the way the animal had gone, and the beaters soon stopped us
and pointed out a thick copse, in which they had seen him take refuge. A shot
was fired in that direction, and the tiger, infuriated by this last provocation,
quitted his lair. He made straight for us, his ears laid back, and his mouth
open. We acted in concert as regarded our fire, and the captain advised me,
above all things, not to be in a hurry. When he was within twenty paces of us,
Tatia fired, and lodged a ball in his chest, without checking his advance, I took
a careful and deliberate aim, and pulled the trigger, The effect was instantaneous,
the tiger sprang into the air, and fell lifeless on the ground a few paces from
where we stood. The captain and Schaumburg discharged their bullets into him
to make sure that he was dead, and we approached him amid the repeated cries
of the Indians : “ Bag mahrgaya !” (The tiger is dead !). He was a superb animal,
THE ROYAL MENAGERIE. 115

seven or eight years old, and no less than nine feet in length from the muzzle
to the tip of the tail. The wound in the side, which he had received at the
outset, had deprived him of a good deal of his strength; otherwise it is probable
that he would have given us more trouble. This was the only tiger we killed
during our ten days’ battwe, but we got six very fine panthers. We had followed
one of them, on the back of an elephant, into a small wood; when it attacked
the animal we were on with such courage that, if a ball had not come to put an end
to the contest, we ran great risk of being torn by the panther, or battered to pieces
against a tree in the course of the elephant’s flight. The forest which clothes the
base of the mountain is a perfect paradise for hunters: game of all kinds is
abundant—the boar, the deer, the bear, and the peacock. We had excellent
sport in it, and returned to Baroda laden with trophies of the chase,

The Guicowar possesses an extensive menagerie, comprising a magnificent
collection of savage animals: lions from Kattywar, tigers of all kinds, panthers,
and bears. These creatures are kept under sheds, and merely attached to posts
by long chains. The visitor is obliged to walk circumspectly ; and, although the
chains are strong, it is not very comfortable to be in the midst of so. ferocious a
company. A beautiful black panther was chained at the door, so that, in order

‘to enable you to go in or out, it was necessary for a keeper to hold her back.
She struggled to rush upon you, like a savage house-dog, and you had to pass her
in all haste. In another building were the cheetahs and lynxes employed in the
chase. The Indian lynx is a beautiful animal, strongly resembling the dog in its
height and the form of its body; but its head is more finely shaped, its eyes are
cat-like, and its ears long and tipped with a tuft of long hairs; its coat is a bright
tawny on the back, and white on the breast. It is trained like the cheetah, but
only for the smaller kinds of game, such as hares and ravine-deer.

In-a pavilion attached to the menagerie are the falcons, hawks, and buzzards,
trained for the pursuit of birds,—a sport carried on as in the Middle Ages in
Europe. The falcon, hooded, is carried on the falconer’s fist; when the game is
‘in sight, the hood is removed and the bird let go, the company following on
horseback or on foot.
CHAPTER X.
THE KING'S PLEASURES._THE ENVIRONS OF BARODA.

The Guicowar’s Whims.—A Pulbul Fight.--A College of Holy Men.—A novel Mode of replen-
ishing the Royal Treasury.—A Plot.—Death of the Assassin.—Capital Punishment by the
Elephant.—The Feast of the Dassara.—Vishnu and the Nautch Girl.—Decapitation of a
Buffalo.—The Tomb of Allum Sayed.—The Fakir-Kana.—The Ruins of Dubbhoee.—The
Feasts of the Diwali.The Reign of BaliitThe Queen at the Motibaugh.—Our last Inter-
view with the Guicowar.

* HE huntings, combats, and ceremonies which I have already
described are not the only things that have been charged
against the Guicowar. His costly eccentricities are innumer-
able: every novelty strikes his fancy, and he gives himself up
to it without calculation. One day, diamonds are in the
“ ascendant: forthwith his agents go to all the jewellers’ shops
in quest of the most valuable and rarest stones. Another time he has a mania
for pigeons: he collects as many as sixty thousand in his palace, of all varieties
of breed and plumage, and spends his mornings in watching them take their
flights together. Or, again, he gets up a mock marriage between two of them, and
celebrates the event with extravagant luxury. This odd fancy brought upon
him, and with good reason, the attacks of the Bombay papers, which saw in it a
manifestation of his madness, and urged the British Government to undertake the
supervision of the affairs of Goojerat. I was present at this ceremony—one of
the most singular I ever had the fortune to witness. The two pigeons, adorned
with collars, and carried by pages, were brought on to the terrace-roof of the
palace, which had been sumptuously decorated. The king and courtiers, in gala
habits, were ranged round the Brahmins, who recited the usual hymns. A
considerable sum was given as a marriage portion to the two birds; which sum
was, no doubt, appropriated by the priests who had advised that the ceremony
should be performed. Dances and a grand banquet, followed by illuminations,
concluded the festival. The issue, however, was unforeseen; for a large cat,
which was wandering about in the palace, taking advantage of the confusion,
carried off the unhappy bridegroom, leaving his bride a disconsolate widow.

To this fancy succeeded a taste for bulbuls. These charming birds are the
nightingales of India. Their plumage is beautifully speckled, and their tails partly
of a bright red. On their heads is a tuft of waving feathers, which gives them a
coquettish and saucy air. More than five hundred of these bulbuls were brought
to the palace, and their care and education employed the Guicowar and his nobles
for a whole month. At the end of this period, a pitched battle was fought, in

   

 
A COLLEGE OF HOLY MEN. 117

which these beautiful little creatures attacked each other furiously, and were
killed in great numbers.

Some time afterwards, the idea occurred to the Guicowar of surrounding him-
self with all the holy men he cowld assemble together. Impostors are not rare

 

FAKIR CARRIER OF RELICS AT BALODA.

in the country ; so in a little while he had got together a tolerably large collec-
tion of Hindoo goussains and Mussulman fakirs. He was pleased to entertain
these fellows after a royal fashion, clothing them in precious stuffs, and paying
them marks of the greatest respect. One of these saintly men had the power of
118 INDIA.

throwing himself into such a state of meditation that he seemed to become
insensible to all ordinary emotions. His eyes became fixed, his limbs motionless,
and a pistol fired close to his ear did not produce any visible effect. The king
had found him on a noisome manure-heap in the suburbs, and had him well taken
care of and surrounded with all the appliances of luxury imaginable.

Just about this time, the royal treasury seemed on the point of being wholly
exhausted by the recent expenditure, especially by the purchase of the “Star of
the South,” and other diamonds, which had cost more than six lacs of rupees.
The king looked about for the means of replenishing it without imposing new
taxes on the people, and the plan that suggested itself to him proved as efficacious
as it was original. The corruption of the officials of every class is so thoroughly
established in the principalities of India that it is all but openly recognised ;
indeed, the appointments sought for are in themselves insignificant, and only
derive their importance from the opportunities they afford for theft and pecula-
tion. It occurred to the Guicowar that the enormous sums thus received by
these functionaries might be considered as having been taken in fraud of the
royal revenue. He therefore distributed amongst all his karkhoons the following
proclamation :—“ His Highness has seen with regret that corruption has found
its way into various departments of his administration, but’ he hopes that this
state of things will forthwith come to an end. He counsels all those officials
who have allowed themselves to be corrupted to bring into the royal treasury the
sums received in this way for the last ten years. His Highness, considering this
restitution as making honourable amends, will forget the past. If, however, any
karkhoon shall neglect to refund the full amount of the bonuses so received, His
Highness will feel himself under the painful necessity of taking rigorous
measures. ...” This announcement was a recular coup d état to all branches
of the administration. Every one cried out loudly; even the newspapers
endeavoured to defend the karkhoons. But the latter had to yield: and at the
end of a fortnight there had been remitted into the treasury more than twenty-
seven lacs of sicca rupees, or about two hundred and eighty thousand pounds
sterling. The Guicowar laughingly recounted the affair to me. His ministers
even, believing that he had secret information, had come to restore to him sums
on which he had never reckoned.

Besides his Goojerat possessions, the Guicowar has tributaries in nearly the
whole of the vast peninsula of Kattywar, comprised between the Gulf of Cambay
and the Runn of Kutch. One part of this territory is inhabited by a half-civil-
ised and very warlike race, the Waghurs, who, tormented by the governors sent
from Baroda, rose in revolt. The war has already been carried on for several
years, and the present king has not yet succeeded in putting an end to it. A
month before our arrival, a Waghur noble came to Baroda in order to make terms.
He was graciously received, but Khunderao refused to enter into any negotiation
with rebels. The chief then determined to rid his country of the oppressor by
assassinating the Guicowar. The king obtaining information of the plot, the
Waghur, then at the palace, did not hesitate to throw himself from the terrace.
Strange to say, he reached the ground unhurt, and mounted a horse which was
in waiting at the gate; but the Guicowar called out to the Arab guards to kill
him, and they struck him down with their sabres. The plot had also the object
of contriving the escape, from the state prison, of four Waghur chiefs, who had
THE FEAST OF DASSARA. 11g

been confined there for many years, They did escape; but the cavalry recaptured
them, together with the man who had opened the gates for them—a locksmith
of the town. Their trial was brief: the chiefs were beheaded, one in front of
each gate of the city, and the unhgppy locksmith was condemned to undergo the
punishment of death by the elephant.

This punishment is one of the most frightful that can possibly be imagined.
The culprit, bound hand and foot, is fastened by a long cord, passed round his
waist, to the elephant’s hind leg. The latter is urged into a rapid trot through
the streets of the city, and every step gives the cord a violent jerk, which makes
the body of the condemned wretch bound on the pavement. The only hope that
remains for the unhappy man is to be killed by one of these shocks; if not, after
traversing the city, he is released, and, by a refinement of cruelty, a glass of
water is given him. Then his head is placed upon a stone, and the elephant
executioner crushes it beneath his enormous foot.

Very strict etiquette prevails at this Court, and the most scrupulous polite-
ness is observed; only a few curious usages differ from those to which we are
accustomed. Thus, it is expressly forbidden for any one whomsoever to sneeze
in the royal presence: he who transgressed this rule would be rigorously punished,
for his conduct would oblige the prince to suspend all business transactions until
next day. On the other hand, certain improprieties, which are carefully banished
from society amongst us, are here considered perfectly innocent. If the king
commits one of them, the courtiers do not fail to felicitate him, after our old
fashion of exclaiming “God bless you!” on such occasions. It is also a mark of
good breeding, whenever the king yawns, to snap the fingers, in order to keep off
every insect that might seize the opportunity of entering his august mouth.

The Feast of Dassara commenced on the 7th of October; and we arrived in
time to be present at the most interesting of the ceremonies. This festival, the
greatest in the Hindoo catalogue, lasts for ten days, and marks the close of the
rainy season, and also the commencement of military operations. This period
was always chosen by the Mahrattas in former times to invade the neighbouring
countries, or to resume interrupted hostilities.

The first nine days, called by the Indians Nawratri, or “the nine vigils,” are
devoted to the adoration of arms and horses. Swords, muskets, bucklers, care-
fully cleaned, are placed upon the altars and blessed by the Brahmins ; the horses,
adorned with garlands of flowers, and painted of lively colours, are led through
the streets. It may easily be understood how naturally these religious ceremonies
have been established in a country where the excessive moisture of the monsoon
brings the arms into bad condition, and produces dangerous maladies among the
horses. These proceedings oblige every one to attend carefully to those things
that are indispensable in warfare, and the sovereign, at the same time, can assure
himself of the efficiency of the preparations, The nights are passed in all kinds
of festivities, and the dancing-girls assemble in the palaces of the king and
nobles, and go through their performances. These nautches are of a somewhat
insipid character, especially on account of their length ; but they have a peculiar
stamp of antiquity. Presents are bestowed upon all the women who take part
in them. :

According to tradition, this custom originated in an old promise on the part
of Vishnu, which all the rajahs are bound to observe. The god (so runs the
120 INDIA.

lezend) one day came down to earth in the form of a beautiful youth. Night
was falling, and, finding himself near a village, he entered it to seek hospitality.
He knocked at the door of a Brahmin priest, saying to himself that that holy
man would surely welcome a poor traveller; but the Brahmin harshly repulsed
him. He made the same application to all the inhabitants around, and every-
where met with rude rebuffs, and sometimes insults. Weeping over the hard-
heartedness of mankind, he lett the village, and was on the point of quitting
the earth, without doubt to annihilate it, when he saw a light beneath some
neighbouring trees. It came from a poor, small, thatched hut, whence also
proceeded harmonious strains of song. Willing to make a last attempt, he stood
outside, and implored the compassion of the tenant of the cabin. A young
dancing-girl came to the door, and, when she saw the traveller, admitted him,
gave him a seat by her hearth, and busied herself in preparing a repast for him.
When the young man had eaten, she charmed him with her songs, and finally
offered him a share of her bed. The hospitality of the poor girl saved the world
from destruction, and on leaving her next morning the god promised that, from
that day forth, she should be respected by all, and protected by his descendants.
The rajahs, who all claim to derive their origin from Rama, an incarnation of
Vishnu, consider, therefore, that they are under an obligation to keep their
ancestor’s promise.

The tenth day, or Dassara, is celebrated by a grand procession, in remembrance
of the victory gained by Rama over Ravana, King of Ceylon. Khunderao did not
neglect to display all his riches at this Sowari ; and, to render the ceremony more
imposing, he had procured the attendance of troops from the English camp. As
at the former Sowari, a balcony had been prepared for us, whence we witnessed
the magnificent spectacle. Tatia Sahib distinguished himself by a most original
exhibition of good taste. He had his elephant painted like a tiger, and placed his
own daughter in a silver howdah on its back; and he himself took the place of
mahout, thereby desiring to show that he was proud of serving the king’s grand-
daughter. His bare bust glittered with precious stones, as also his turban, and
he guided the elephant with a massive golden goad, richly chiselled. The
procession entered a large square, in which an altar had been erected. The
Guicowar stopped there, and announced to the troops that God had again spared
them, for that year, the calamities of war. A fine buffalo was brought before
him, when, drawing his sword, he dealt the first blow, when the animal was
immediately decapitated and cut to pieces. At that instant, the cannon—both
English and native—thundered forth a salute in honour of peace, and the people
rushed upon the sacrificial victim and tore it into shreds, which were preserved
as charms. The sacrifice of the buffalo is performed in memory of the goddess
Dourga, who killed on the anniversary of that day the demon-buffalo
Maheshasoura.

During one of the walks in the wood adjoining our residence, which I was in
the habit of taking every morning, I by chance discovered a beautiful Mussulman
mausoleum, of considerable antiquity. It was entirely constiucted out of the
materials of an ancient Jain temple, and bore that stamp of elegance which
the Ahmed dynasty knew how to impress on its monuments, by blending the
Mussulman with the Hindoo style. A central dome covered the tomb, and was
surrounded by nine of smaller size, surmounting galleries and porticos. The
THE ROYAL ASYLUM FOR PAUPERS. 121

columns were very plain, and the chamber containing the sepulchral stone was
formed by stone partitions, chiselled in delicate open trellis-work, All round the
mausoleum rose half-broken columns, the ruins of a mosque, while huge trees
covered the spot with a delightful ghade, and Barbary figs, cactuses, and euphorbias
enveloped the ancient stones. I was at once enamoured of this poetic retreat, and
visited it every morning before sunrise. Thousands of parrots dwelt beneath its
shades, and I amused myself by watching them playing about, or flying off at the
slightest sound when disturbed.

One day I found there an old, white-bearded Mussulman, who told me the
history of the tomb. It covered the ashes of a famous saint, Allum Sayed, who
lived in the reign of Mahmoud, Shah of Goojerat, about the year 1459. The
place was renowned amongst the people under the name of @hora-ka-pir, or

 

 

TOMB OF ALLUM SAYED, AT BARODA.

“Tomb of the Horse,” because, according to tradition, the saint’s horse was
buried close by, beneath a tree whose branches were laden with little effigies
of horses. The Hindoos hang these offerings on it in order to secure the fulfil-
ment of their wishes.

Another very curious spot, and one whose proximity to the Motibaugh gave
me frequent opportunities of visiting it, was the Fakir-Kana, or “ Asylum for
Paupers.” Every day, at certain hours, all the poor who present themselves
there are fed at the king’s expense. The most perfect order prevails in the
administration of this bounty. The Brahmins and poor of high caste, who
cannot eat food prepared by those of an inferior grade, receive allowances of rice,
and fuel to cook it; to Mussulmans and those who have not the same scruples,
dishes of food are distributed ready cooked, which they may eat on the spot.
INDIA,

122

As amongst all Indians, this charity is extended likewise to dumb animals ;
and every day, by royal command, servants go through the streets, distributing
forage to the sacred oxen, pieces of bread to the pariah dogs, and grain for the
parrots and other birds. '

On the 19th of October, I set off to visit the celebrated town of Dubbhoee,
about sixteen or seventeen miles south-east of Baroda. It is a place of great antiquity,
and contains some of the finest monuments to be found throughout Goojerat,
Its ramparts, extending about two miles, are still partly standing, and are the
most magnificent specimens of the kind that I have seen in India. They are
formed of enormous blocks of stone, carefully fitted, and rise some fifty feet
above the ground. Their inner face is furnished with galleries, supported by
columns, which serve as dwellings for the garrison. The plan of the fortifications
is a square, having an enormous tower, of elegant shape, at each angle. The
walls are protected by numerous bastions, and in the centre of each side of the
square is a monumental gateway. All these works are. decorated with broad
bands of sculptures, running entirely round the town, and representing various
animated scenes, or with ornaments so complicated that neither pen nor pencil
can give any idea of them.

The most magnificent of these objects is the eastern gate, called by the Indians
Hira Darwaza, or “Gate of Diamonds,” and which tradition alleges to have cost
more than ten thousand pounds sterling. It is an immense edifice, upwards of
a hundred yards long and sixty high, entirely covered with most admirable bas-
reliefs—warriors on horseback and in chariots, lions, elephants, &c. In the centre
of the town is an immense tank, surrounded by broad flights of steps leading
down to the water’s edge, and close by stand some Hindoo temples of great
beauty.

I remained some days at Dubbhoee to explore all these monuments. I was
also shown a narrow fissure in a rock, through which pilgrims forced themselves,
imagining that, by so doing, they were (as it were) leaving anew the bosom of
the earth, our common mother, and ridding themselves of all their former
transgressions.

It was on seeing these generally unknown masterpieces at Dubbhoee that I
regretted I had not the power of reproducing them by photography, and felt that
it would be impossible to continue my explorations profitably without the assist-
ance of that art. As soon, therefore, as I returned to Baroda, I applied myself
seriously to learn photography ; aud with that view I procured from Bombay all
the necessary apparatus.

I was anxious to leave Baroda, but the Guicowar made me promise to remain
until the 15th of November. It was vain to tell him that I had not come into
that country to divert myself in an Indian palace, and that the dry season was
rapidly passing. He insisted so strongly on my remaining that I could not
refuse. Shortly afterwards splendid offers were made on his part to induce me
to take up my residence at his Court. I responded in person, assuring his Majesty
how highly I felt honoured by his esteem, but that I would not, at any price,
abandon the task I had imposed on myself. Moreover, I had had enough of
a courtier’s life; for, notwithstanding all the king’s kindness, I was sometimes
involved in great difficulties. I longed for life in the jungle.

The Diwali brought us another series of brilliant fétes, some of which surpassed
THE “FEAST OF LAMPS.” 123
in magnificence those I had previously seen. The Diwali, or “Feast of Lamps,”

is celebrated by general illuminations in honour of Lakshmi, Goddess of Abun-
dance. A piece of gold or silver is placed on an altar, and receives marks of

mn

A

ne

 

“HOUSE OF THE FAKIRS,” AT BARODA.

veneration from all. This part of the ceremony will certainly not surprise my
readers, for in Europe, gold or silver need not be placed on an altar to be adored.
At this season all the houses are put in repair and newly painted, and all
174 INDIA.
accounts balanced. The festival lasts four days: the first, named Dhau, is
dedicated to Fortune, and a taper is burnt in every house in honour of Yama, the
Pluto of the Hindoos; the second is called Narak, or “ Hell,” and it is customary,
on that day, to offer presents to the mistress of the house; the third, Diwali, is
consecrated to Saraswati, Goddess of Wisdom. This is the first day of the
Hindoo year. The women sweep the house and, collecting the dust in a basket,
place a lighted lamp in the midst, and throw the whole into the street, crying,
“May sorrows and poverty go with you, and may the reign of Bali (that is to
say, the era of prosperity) commence!” The last day is the Yama Devitiya, or
“Second Day of Yama;” and, in memory of the visit which this god paid to
his sister, all the Hindoos go to see their sisters in the women’s apartments, and
take them presents.

Early in November, the Guicowar informed me that the queen, his wife,
desiring to go and enjoy the country air, had begged him to ask me if I would
give up to her part of my palace, the Motibaugh. This application surprised me
greatly, for, besides its being unusual for a Hindoo to speak of his wife, I thought
that the rules of the zenana were too strict to allow of such a thing. For a
moment I suspected some trap, but afterwards I acceded to the royal demand.
I could not be at all inconvenienced by the arrival of these new guests, for we
did not occupy even a fourth of our vast residence; I therefore placed at the
queen’s disposal an entire suite of apartments adjoining our own. That same
evening a noisy troop of young female slaves came to take possession, and the
Ranee installed herself there in the course of the night. From that time our
charming habitation lost all its tranquillity ; our garden was invaded by bevies
of graceful young damsels, whose brilliant costumes enlivened all the walks ;
eunuchs passed hither and thither; and every one followed our slightest move-
ments with unfailing curiosity. However, this little inquisitiveness gave me the
opportunity of learning a great many things that I should, otherwise, never have
known. I was thus enabled to see the ladies of the Court, and even the queen
herself; but, as my discretion was relied on, I must justify that confidence to
the fullest extent.

One night, whilst we, stretched at ease in our verandah, smoked the excellent
Manilla cheroots provided for us by the king, one of these ladies sang a languish-
ing Hindoo song, to the accompaniment of the lute. The sweet voice, and the
plaintive and voluptuous strains, joined to the enchanting scenery of our garden,
which the moon was then bathing in her gentle light, filled me with an indefin-
able poetic feeling which I have never forgotten. When the sounds of melody
ceased, profound silence reigned, save that, now and then, was heard the tramp of
the sentinels or the shrill cry of the jackal.

Notwithstanding all these allurements, the 15th of November duly arrived,
and we had to depart in quest of unknown scenes. I reminded the Guicowar of
his promise; but he told me that he refused me permission to go, and that I
should never obtain it from him. Nevertheless, I continued my preparations ;
and, seeing this, the king and his courtiers depicted to me, in the blackest colours,
the country we were about to traverse. The savage tribes, they said, would kill
us, or, if we escaped them, it would only be to perish of thirst in the deserts of
Rajpootana. The Bheels, especially, were represented to us almost as cannibals,
who had never allowed a European to make his way alive out of their country.
VALE MOTIBAUGH ! 125

Thanks to the obstacles the king threw in my way, and which I could only
impute to an excess of friendship for me, the month of November entirely elapsed
before I had completed my arrangements. At last, on the 2nd of December, I
announced to him that my departuyg was definitely fixed for the morrow; and, to
let him see that I was in earnest this time, I sent on the principal part of my
baggage to Ahmedabad.

Next day I went to bid him adieu. I found him, as usual, on the terrace-
roof of his palace, surrounded by all his courtiers. He appeared to be as much
affected as I was myself; and I felt, at that moment, with what strong sentiments
of friendship this man was inspired towards me. We conversed for a long time.
“Will you think of the Guicowar,” said he, “when you are in that immense city
of which you have so often told me, and where people are apt to forget every one
and everything? Will you tell your fellow-countrymen how I have received you,
and not treat me too harshly in speaking of me? Sometimes think of Khunderao
and his courtiers, who had hoped that you would have become one of them, and
who see you leave them to-day with regret.” Hereupon servants entered bearing
a present, which the king begged me to accept in remembrance of him. It was
one of those kAtlluts, or dresses of honour, which are offered only to persons of the
highest rank. My companion was equally favoured. Then, for the last time, I
shook hands with Khunderao, and was conducted by the nobles to my carriage.
Bhao Sahib, my good friend, only left me at the Motibaugh, and we embraced each
other most affectionately. I had not yet quitted Baroda, and already my heart
was moved at the thought that I should never more see this spot where I had
been so happy, nor the friends who had been so kind to me.

But why take up the time of my readers with this record of my feelings ?
They know that it is the lot of the traveller to regret what he leaves behind;
and they will understand how painful it must be to tear oneself from a state of
existence so fascinating as that which I had enjoyed for months past. We bade
adieu to the dear Motibaugh, and set off for the railway-station.
CHAPTER XI.

GOOFERAT.

The Valley of the Mhye.—Type of a Provincial Town, Goojerat.—Mechanical Gods.—Ahmedabad :
its Ramparts, Palaces, Mosques, and Tombs.—The Rajpoot Knights.—Prince Mooti Sing of
Joudpore.—Palace and Mosque of Sirkhej—The Tomb of Shah Allum.—Nilghau Hunting.
—A Riot concerning a Peacock.—Organisation of our Caravan.

numerous rivers. The ground is much cut up by ravines, and
seems very uneven, though its level is perfectly horizontal.
Towns and villages are situated upon the borders of these deep
valleys, and their houses rise in picturesque rows, one above
the other, in the midst of mango and tamarind groves.

The works on which the railway is supported are very remarkable. It might,
without exaggeration, be said that the line passes over an immense bridge con-
necting Wassud with Baroda. The first-mentioned town is half hidden in the
ravines, a short distance from the Mhye, a majestic river, crossed by a bridge on
iron piles, nearly two thousand feet long and about one hundred and thirty in
height.

Some little distance farther on is the fortified town of Neriad, which shows
itself coyly behind a screen of trees. Near the station is a fine sheet of water,
surrounded by flights of steps, and overlooked by lofty terraces, half in ruins,
covered with kiosks and temples. We stopped at the next station, to go and
take a look at Khaira, a place of considerable importance, containing some
interesting objects. An old wooden bridge leads to the Hindoo city; which,
situated at the confluence of the rivers Seri and Watruck, is defended on all sides
by brick walls with round towers. This is the most perfect type of a Goojerat
town. The streets, narrow and tortuous, are clean and well kept; the houses,
built of brick, are profusely adorned with wood-carvings of very original designs.
In the centre of the town stands a large Jain temple, in which may be seen some
beautiful specimens of carved woods, and also idols, mechanically contructed so
as to move their arms and legs and open their eyes and mouths, like our children’s
dolls. The reverend pundit who did the honours of the temple did not fail to
draw the traveller's attention to these masterpieces, the work of a native artist;
and, for a few rupees, he turned the key and set in motion all these puppet
deities. In a cave below the sanctuary are placed the Jain idols, which the native
people are not allowed to see, but which, by a singular toleration, are frequently
shown to visitors. They consist of three statues of white marble, of large

 
AHMEDABAD. iy

dimensions, representing three Zirthankars* in one of their traditional attitudes,
that is to say, sitting with their arms and legs crossed. Their features bear the
Egyptian character noticeable in all these statues; and their eyes, of silver, shine
with fantastic light. Nudity beingone of the points of distinction between these
and Buddhist idols, the artist has laboured to bring out, as far as possible,
whatever tends to some little display of indecency. .

Next day, the 5th of December, we arrived at Ahmedabad, the ancient
capital of the Sultans, one of the most splendid cities of the East. A very
good bungalow afforded us the means of being comfortably installed, so that we
could visit in detail those monuments that have rendered the place famous
throughout the whole of Asia. On his first entrance, the traveller sees, rising
on every side, tall, slender minarets, elegant domes, or high ogival arches.

Ahmedabad was founded in 1412 by the Sultan Ahmed, on the site of an
ancient Hindoo city, called Ashawal. In the construction of his palaces and
mosques, this sovereign probably employed the materials derived from the
Rajpoot cities of Chandravati and Anhilwara Patau, which he had sacked. His
successors showed the same love for the fine arts; and, being themselves of
Hindoo origin, they preserved in the temples of their new religion the style of
architecture peculiar to the country—a pure and original kind, quite distinct
from the Saracen order which found its way into Hindostan with the Mogul
dynasty.

Towards the year 1570 this city fell into the power of the Mogul Emperors,
and became the seat of one of their most opulent vice-royalties. The beautiful
Nour Jehan, wife of the Sultan Jehanghir, held her court here for a long time,
and established a celebrated mint. In 1737 Damaji Guicowar, taking advantage
of the incapacity of the Imperial representatives, annexed Ahmedabad and its
rich district to the kingdom of Baroda; but one of his successors was obliged, in
1818, to give it up to the English, who have held it ever since.

The city is surrounded by fine ramparts, making a circuit of nearly eight
miles. Towers and bastions complete the plan of these fortifications, the
execution of which is attributed to the Sultan Mahmoud Begarha, in 1485.
Eighteen monumental gates give access to the interior, which once was occupied
by an immense population. Nowadays spacious gardens and waste lands
separate the city from its ramparts, and its several districts do not contain,
collectively, more than one hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants. Although
fallen into decay, it is nevertheless of a gay and animated aspect. Beautiful
shady walks traverse it in all directions; and the small whitewashed hovels of
the poorer classes are grouped around the remains of antiquity, and relieve them,
to some extent, of their mournful grandeur. One magnificent street, the Manik
Chauk, as wide as a Parisian boulevard, forms the commercial quarter of the city,
and concentrates at one point the chief glories of Ahmedabad. It is there that
the markets are held. Camels and elephants pass, here and there, in the midst
of the strange-looking, noisy crowd, amongst which order is maintained by native
police. This street leads from the great gate of the Manik Burj, the ancient vice-
regal residence, whose keeps recall the state prisons of Europe. The English have
turned it into a penitentiary, where several thousand convicts are employed in
the manufacture of carpets, coarse stuffs, and paper. The palace is entered by a

* Deified Jain philosophers.
128 INDIA.

handsome Saracen gate, the arch of which contains a guard-house. The present
structure can furnish no adequate idea of the former splendour of this once-royal
habitation; and the apartments, though spacious, have been 80 frequently white-
washed by order of the English inspectors, that no interesting details can be
discovered. They show there the throne of the famous Hindoo apostate, Jaka,
the founder of the Imperial dynasty of Ahmedabad.

At a little distance from the castle the Manik Chauk is intersected by a
superb triumphal arch, composed of three Saracen archways, which has given it
the title of Zin Durwazé, or “ The Three Gates.” This is one of the most elegant
specimens of the style of the sixteenth century. On the other side of this arch
is the Jumli Musjid—a cathedral-mosque, which is the glory of Ahmedabad.
An inscription over the door states that Mahmoud Shah Begarha, the “ Taker of
Towns,” constructed it out of the ruins of infidel temples in the year of the
Hegira $27. The principal edifice is at the farther side of an immense flagged
court, surrounded by cloisters or columns.

The facade contains three ogival doorways, of great height, on the other side
of which appear innumerable columns supporting the roof of the great hall. On
each side of the central door are two minarets, of great richness of construction in
every particular, but whose summits were dislodged by the great earthquake in
1818. On entering this vast place of worship, one is seized with admiration of
the view of its long rows of fantastically sculptured columns. The domes, formed
of carved concentric courses, are raised above the vault by a range of small columns,
which admit a flood of light into the temple. The complete absence of statues,
the number of columns and the richness of their ornamentation, give to. this
Hindoo temple, transformed into a mosque, a singular stamp of originality. In
the centre of the hall, in front of the niche of Mecca, is an immense flag-stone,
which, according to tradition, covers the ancient Jain idol of the temple. Every
true believer, on entering the sacred place, goes to stamp his foot on this slab, in
token of his contempt for the symbol of idolatry beneath. In the vicinity of the
mosque is the imperial basilica, where, under rich marble canopies, repose the
mortal remains of the Emperors Ahmed, Mahmoud, and Koutub Oudeen, while
around them are laid in order their wives and descendants. These tombs are all
of an elegant shape, and are covered with sculptures and, occasionally, mosaics.

Ahmedabad still contains more than fifty mosques, and a great number of
mausoleums worthy of special study. It is, beyond doubt, the richest city of
India in monuments of this description. These mosques are, for the most part,
surrounded by gardens and orchards, and always stand on high stone terraces,
overlooking the neighbouring houses. One can readily understand how this
arrangement brings out the beauty of their ogives, their domes, and their minarets
standing forth in the limpid azure of an Indian sky. One mausoleum, very
remarkable for the simplicity and good taste of its architecture, is that which is
generally called Rani-Ka-Rauzah, or “Tomb of the Queens.” Its interior is richly
decorated with sculptures. The houses of the rich inhabitants are built of brick
and wood, and all display that aspect of originality which a profusion of balconies
and small sculptured columns gives to the Goojerat houses. It is peculiar to
Ahmedabad that these houses are never painted—a circumstance which allows
the brickwork and the wood to acquire those mellow tones of old age which
artists so greatly love.
PRINCE MOUTI SING OF $OUDPORE. 129

Some days after our arrival I was taking my morning ride, eagerly inhaling
the cool and balmy air, when I saw a whirlwind of dust rapidly approaching. I
had scarcely time to draw on one side when five or six open carriages, of antique
build and strangely yoked, passed megcontaining several persons whom I recognised,
by their gold-embroidered turbans, as of high rank. These carriages were followed
by a perfect troop of horsemen of the Cossack type, with flowing beard, and lance
in hand, who pranced along on large horses of the desert, superbly caparisoned.
The whole swept by in the twinkle of an eye. I saluted mechanically, and the
salute was returned by one of the party. I was perplexed at the presence of these
strange guests in this good English city, and hastened to return to the bungalow.
I found its courtyard invaded by these mysterious horsemen, who had uncere-
moniously converted it into a bivouac; fires were blazing on every side; horses

 

THE RANI-KA-RAUZAH, OR TOMB OF THE QUEENS, AT AHMEDABAD.

were tethered in rows, and in one corner were the smart carriages, still covered
with dust. My servants soon informed me that all this bustle was caused by the
arrival of the Prince Mouti Sing, son of the Rajah of Marwar, who was proceeding
on a mission to Bombay.

The horsemen who formed his escort were all Rajpoots of the Rahtore clan,
one of the most renowned. Inasmuch as I myself was making my way towards
Rajpootana, this meeting was most opportune, seeing that I hoped to obtain from
the prince precise directions. Hevhad taken up his quarters in the next house,
and it was therefore easy for me, with my knowledge of Indian habits, to see him
whenever I thought proper.

Whilst he was resting after the fatigues of his journey, I examined with
interest these fine Rajpoots, who were moving hither and thither about the house.

Their frank and open countenances and martial bearing favourably impressed me. I
I
130 INDIA.

accosted some of them, and was astonished at their dignified, though respectful,
demeanour, very different from the servility of the Goojerat people.

On the morning after the prince’s arrival, I sent my khansamah (invested, for
the occasion, with the dignity of a choubdar) to convey our respects to him. In
return, he sent an usher of the gold stick, who, after the customary salutations,
informed me that I could be received that same day. I presented myself, with
Schaumburg, at the appointed hour, and found Mouti Sing in a large room, where
four chairs and a carpet constituted the regular Durbar. He assured me that his
father, the King of Marwar, would be happy to receive us at his court, and that,
moreover, the well-known hospitality of the other Rajpoot rajahs did not admit
of a doubt for an instant that we should be warmly welcomed everywhere.
“ European travellers,” said he, “are almost unknown to us. The only ones we
have seen are either envoys sent by the Viceroy, or officers returning to their
garrisons or on their way to Bombay. As for a Frenchman, I do not recollect
that one ever came to Joudpore.” He gave me very particular directions as to
the manner in which I should travel, and as to the dangers I should have to
surmount; and urged me strongly to follow the route by Deesa, Serohi, and
Joudpore, instead of visiting the country of the Bheels and Oudeypoor. But my
mind was made up on this point, and I could only promise him to do my best to
reach Joudpore by way of Ajmere.

I devoted the few days that remained prior to our departure from Ahmedabad
to visiting the suburbs, which afforded an almost incalculable number of historic
memorials and charming scenes. My first excursion was to Sirkhej, the ancient
summer residence of the Emperor Ahmed, situate about seven miles from the city.
Setting off from our bungalows at four o’clock in the morning, by sunrise we were
on the banks of the Sabermutti, the beautiful stream that bathes the ramparts of
Ahmedabad. Our servants and the provisions we had brought with us occupied
an ox-waggon, which had to cross the river at this point, where the water was not
very deep; but the current was so strong that I feared every moment to see ‘the
waggon carried away.

As soon as the waggon had got safely across, we galloped in the direction of
Sirkhej. We followed paths spread with sand, or carpeted with short, thin grass,
shut in between high hedges of the taper cactus and racket fig-trees covered with
convolvulus and a thousand other flowering creepers. Great quantities of joyous
turtle-doves, of a whitish plumage, took to flight as we passed, raising their
peculiar low cry; parrots flew by, rending the air with their piercing shrieks ;
and every grove teemed with feathered inhabitants. Venerable trees, whose
trunks were of monstrous girth, shaded mausoleums with painted domes, and
gave to the smiling landscape an aspect of great beauty. After half an hour's
gallop, we came to a bleak, though cultivated, plain; on the other side of which
appeared the heights of Sirkhej, crowned with monumental silhouettes. The
Sabermutti formerly flowed at the foot of these hills, and its dry bed, covered
with fine yielding sand, considerably retarded our horses’ progress. On the bank
rose two high towers, whose base was completely undermined by the water, and
which formed the principal entrance into the imperial domain. The road is still
paved with large flags; and the mouldering remains of arches and guard-chambers
hang, in a menacing manner, over the heads of the passers-by.

We made our way to the mosque, the only part of the palace habitable now.
SIRKHE¥. ah

The heavy gate was closed ; and, dismounting, I made the chased iron knocker,
which still remained in its place, resound several times. The most profound
silence reigned around, save that a few blue pigeons, alarmed at the unusual
noise, flew circling above our heads. After waiting a few minutes, I heard the
bolts drawn, and a little old man, with a long white beard, and of a fantastic
appearance, opened a wicket. This was the holy man appointed to guard the
sacred place, and he received us very aflably. We entered at once into a large,
flagged court, surrounded by porticos, the centre of which is occupied by a heavy
edifice, surmounted by a gilded dome. There, beneath a massive shrine, repose
the remains of Gunj Buksh, the tutelary patron of Sirkhej. His tomb is a
pilgrimage-goal from neighbouring parts, and twice a year the deserted court is
filled with thousands of visitors. In front of the Gumbaz, or “Mausoleum of

 

KIOSK OF THE TOMB OF GUNJ BUKSH, AT SIRKHEJ.

Gunj Buksh,” is a kiosk, formed of sixteen slender columns, supporting nine
domes.

On the left side of the court is a handsome peristyle, forming the entrance to
the Tombs of the Queens. These are large chambers, whose arched roofs ere
supported by massive pillars; the tombs, of white marble, are placed in chapels
surrounded by stone gratings of open lattice-work. Large balconied windows let
in floods of light, and command a splendid view of the great sheet of water that
washes the base of the mosque some sixty feet below. Here, with the consent of
our guide, we decided to take up our abode for the few days we wished to stay.
An immense staircase, leading down to the lake, separates these chambers from :
suite of still more spacious apartments; in which are ranged the tombs of
emperors, amongst others the famous Mahmoud Begarha. The other side of t :
court is occupied by the mosque, which is very large, and is, it is said, an exac
ie INDIA.

copy of the great mosque at Mecca. But, although I have never seen the latter,
I strongly doubt the fact of any analogy between the columns at Sirkhej and
those of the Arab temple.

The lake, which is now partly dried up, covers a space of nearly a square
mile, and, in the time of Ahmed, must have been one of the marvels of India.
The mosque and its adjacent buildings take up one side of it, and the other three
are covered with gigantic flights of steps, which once were surmounted by
magnificent palaces. Two of these edifices are still in existence—the palace of
Ahmed and the Harem. Their high facades, supported by tiers of columns with
bands of sculptures, give them an aspect of imposing grandeur which is rarely
found in later Mussulman works. Large tunnels, of substantial construction,
lead underneath these palaces down to the borders of the lake. At one of the
angles is a monumental flood-gate, through which the waters of the Sabermutti
used to be turned into the lake. We spent several days at Sirkhej, sketching or
photographing its most interesting monuments. The lake supplied us with
excellent fish, which our servants amused themselves with catching in nets
contrived for the occasion; and our table was also provided with partridge and
snipe from our sporting expeditions in the neighbourhood.

Our second excursion was to the Mausoleum of Shah Allum, two miles from
Ahmedabad. Here there is still a vast assemblage of tombs, mosques, palaces,
and gardens. The mausoleum itself is surmounted by a high dome, and comprises
several chambers. That containing the porphyry tomb of Shah Allum, is
inlaid with mother-of-pearl, and the light is admitted only through delicate
trellis-work of stone. The great mosque adjoining is a long building, supported
by columns, standing on a fine terrace, and still possesses its two minarets in a
perfect state. They are very slender towers, ninety or a hundred feet high.
Beneath the terrace is a subterranean pool, the heavy pillars supporting the vault
of which are covered with symbols and cabalistic signs.

The neighbourhood of Ahmedabad affords such a number of objects of
curiosity that one is obliged to pass by many monuments which, situated else-
where, could not fail to attract admiration. This is the case also at Delhi,
though there numerous dynasties, and even races, have succeeded each other;
whereas here it is to one unbroken line of princes, of the fifteenth or sixteenth
century, that these marvels are due.

The English cantonment of Ahmedabad is about two miles and a half from
the native town, with which it is connected by beautiful roads, shaded by peepuls
and bars. It extends over a wide plain, and comprises, besides the barracks and
other military establishments, pretty dwelling-houses, surrounded by gardens,
inhabited by about a hundred Government officials and their families. In the
immediate vicinity is the palace of Shahi Baugh, built in 1625 as a residence for
the Viceroy, Sultan Kurrum. That prince never entered this magnificent palace,
because, by a mistake on the part of the architect, the principal gate of the
enclosure was not sufficiently high to admit the elephant he was riding. Before
the blunder could be corrected, his father J ehanghir died, and he exchanged his
vice-royalty for the throne of Delhi, with the title of Shah Jehan.

Field-sports supply almost the only recreation of the English officers of the
garrison ; and the neighbouring plains furnish them with the best of the kind to
be found in India. Tigers and panthers are not uncommon. As for deer,
HUNTING THE NILGHAU. 133

J

antelopes, wild boars, and other inferior game, they are found in great quantities.
I availed myself of an invitation sent me by the officers of the garrison to take
part in a battwe in the neighbourhood. The game of which we were in quest was
neither tiger nor lion—animals which are usually hunted only in summer—but
the nilghau, that great antelope which the Indians call the blue ox. It is a
superb animal, about the size of our stag, but more finely formed, and its coat is
of a pearl grey, which, in some of them, attains an almost blue tint. Its head,
long and slightly convex, like that of some horses, is armed with two sharp and
straight horns, which are rarely more than a foot long. The Jardin des Plantes
at Paris contains two very fine specimens of this race of antelopes.

The meet had been appointed near the village of Lamba Gaum, several miles
from Ahmedabad, and every one was to get there the best way he could.
Schaumburg and I left the bungalow at two o'clock in the morning, when it
was so dark that guides preceded us with torches—an indispensable measure of
precaution in a country where the roads are so full of cracks that the horses
stumble at every step. After a pretty long journey, we came in sight of the
camp-fires of the hunters. The beaters, in considerable numbers, enveloped in
their woollen wrappers, were disposed around an immense pile of blazing wood.
The sharp cold of the early morn made me envy them their position; and,
thinking we were the first arrivals, I was going to ask them to make room for
me, when my ears were saluted with “Halloa!” from several voices; and, the
curtain of a tent being raised at the same time, I found myself welcomed by my
entertainers. They had arrived before us, and, like good campaigners, had already
got their tents pitched and everything in order, as though for a stay of several
days.

After an hour or so, a shikaree put his head through the opening of the tent,
and cried out: Sahib-log, din hand jahté! shikaree logun tayar hai!” * Every
one sprang to his feet in a moment; and in a very short time we were all
assembled outside, booted, horses saddled, and rifles shouldered. As the chief
of the beaters had said, a whitish glare covering the eastern horizon announced
the approach of day. The cold was so keen that my fingers refused to do their
duty, and I was obliged to toast them some time at the fire before I could handle
the lock of my rifle. The plain, slightly undulating, and covered with tufts of
kdlam grass about fifteen feet high, forms an excellent hunting-ground. The
horsemen, sheltered behind this herbage, on the highest ground they can find,
command every movement of the beaters, and watch the antelopes approach.
This last is an important point, for the nilghau at bay is a dangerous animal.
When it finds itself surrounded on all sides, it makes a furious charge, and woe
to him who allows himself to be surprised. The beaters, who were already in
their places, formed an arc extending over the plains for some miles, of which the
line of sportsmen represented the chord. Day had broken whilst these preliminaries
were being arranged, and I soon heard the shrill cries of the shikarees. The plain
then seemed all of a sudden to become animated, and we could distinguish several
groups of common antelopes and a great herd of nilghaus. These animals, terrified
by the shouts, bounded in various directions. Some, perhaps understanding by
instinct that the real danger came from our side, ran towards the beaters, seeking to
force the line. The nilghaus, after several turns, rushed helter-skelter towards us.

* «Gentlemen, it is daybreak ; the beaters are ready.’
ie INDIA.
It was to be feared that their impetuous dash would break our line, without our
being able to check them. Being placed, myself, at the opposite extremity to that
towards which they were directing their course, I was just deploring this mis-
fortune, when I heard several shots fired, and saw the whole herd suddenly stop,
and then make their way towards me. This manceuvre was fatal to them, and I
saw two of them stagzer and fall at the first shots. The whole surviving herd
passed in front of me at full gallop, and I aimed at a beautiful male that took
the lead; who bounded at the shot, but continued his course, when my neighbour's
bullet stretched him on the ground. <A few more rifle shots, and the herd,
breaking through the beaters, disappeared in the plain.

Four of these magnificent animals lay dead upon the ground, pierced with
bullets ; the beaters prepared litters, and the sportsmen, with their booty, returned
in triumph to their tents. A good breakfast awaited us, and, the keen morning
air having given us appetites, we all did honour to the corned beef and pale ale.
This task accomplished, some reclined on couches for a siesta, others set out in
quest of hares and partridges: as for myself, I went with one of the officers to try
and find out some of the peacocks which were said to be so numerous in that
neighbourhood.

We soon killed a few, and were preparing to return to the encampment,
when my companion, seeing one perched on the top of a tree near the villaze,
took aim and brought it down. No sooner was the report heard than we saw the
villagers come running to us from all directions, and we quickly found ourselves
in the centre of a dense and clamorous circle. Presently stones began to shower
upon us, and I saw that our position would become a dangerous one if we could
not succeed in calming, to some extent, the excitement of the crowd. Seeing the
patel of the village in the midst of the rabble, I took aim at him, calling out that,
if he did not make the people retire, I would commence reprisals by shooting
him. Seeing himself caught, he ordered his men to keep quiet, and approached
us. He prayed us to excuse him, declaring that he was devoted to the Sahib-log,
and had endeavoured in vain to stay the attack to which we had been subjected.
He explained that, as this village contained a great many Brahmins, its inhabit-
ants considered the peacock a sacred bird, and never would suffer it to be
pursued, Not allowing myself to be taken in by the smooth tone of the
patel’s address, 1 replied that we were strangers in that country, and therefore
had only erred through ignorance; but that I considered it most improper
on his part not to have quietly sent one of his sepoys to warn us, and thus
have prevented this unhappy conflict, which we should be under the necessity
of reporting to the authorities of Ahmedabad. I promised to abstain from the
pursuit of the sacred bird on condition that he would allow us to carry off our
game and that the villagers would forthwith retire. his treaty was ratified; the
crowd raised a few more shouts against us, but, seeing that we were determined
to defend ourselves, they let us go.

When we returned to our tents, I related our adventure to Captain B——,
who censured the imprudence of the young officer, my companion, and assured us
we were fortunate in getting off so easily. The peacock is the emblem of the
goddess Sarawati, the Indian Juno, who presides over births and marriages. As
such, it is venerated throughout the whole of Rajpootana, and the chase of it is
strictly prohibited—at any rate in the neighbourhood of towns and villages. The
ORGANISATION OF OUR CARAVAN. 135

English Government, moreover, has recognised this custom by a law. However,
as one rarely knows what reliance is to be placed on the sentiments of the
inhabitants of any particular village, seeing that some will entreat the Europeans
to exterminate the peacocks, that cgmmit enormous devastations, while others will
fight in their behalf, conflicts are continually taking place with the population.

On the morrow, I held several conferences with sundry camel-drivers, who
demanded an exorbitant sum to take me to Oudeypoor, on account of the evil
reputation of the road I had chosen for my journey thither. At last I concluded
a bargain with one of them, who, for the sum of one hundred and twenty-five
rupees, was to furnish me with seven riding and seven baggage camels. I
purchased a small and very light tent, in order not to encumber myself too
much on so difficult a journey; and I provided a complete supply of beds, cooking
apparatus, and other things which we should need in districts devoid of hotels
and bungalows, and where I foresaw we should remain at least a year.
CHAPTER XII.
THE COUNTRY OF THE BHEELS.

The Caravan.—The Encampment at Rajpoor—The Dounghér Hills.—A Lake amongst the
Mountains—The Mookém.—The Thakour of Tintoui—An Old Baoli—Manners and
Customs of the Bheels—The Man-eating Tiger.—A perilous Encounter with the Bheels.—
A Chief as Hostage.—A Bad Rajpoot.—Kairwara,

 

HAD fixed the departure of our caravan for the 19th inst., and
4| at the appointed hour the camels, grouped in the courtyard of
3) the bungalow, were waiting to be laden. The two on which
' we were to ride were smartly caparisoned with housings of
silk and a profusion of tassels; but all these ornaments were
: in honour of the ceremony of departure, and would disappear
when we were once on the road. Our party consisted of our four servants, two
saniwallahs, and seven camel-drivers. All were armed with sabres and guns,
and each imagined it extremely probable that he would shortly be called upon
to make use of them. I assembled them all before the steps of the bungalow, and
made them a brief speech, assuring them that the country we were about to
traverse was perfectly safe, and that, moreover, being well armed, we should have
nothing to fear from the Bheels. I appointed a leader of the caravan; and,
having consulted the itinerary I had drawn up, I ordered him to encamp that same
night at the village of Rajpoor, fifteen miles to the north-east of Ahmedabad. As
for our two selves, I had decided that we should pass one more night beneath the
hospitable roof of the bungalow, and only join our camp next morning.

Our baggage was soon laden, amid the terrible cries of the camels, and I saw
the little band set off, surrounded by friends and relatives who were going to
escort them as far as the gates of the city. Some officers came to pass the
evening with us, and kept us up till midnight. At four o’clock I was awoke by
my saniwallah, who came to warn me that it was time to be starting. I, in turn,
woke Schaumburg, and in a few minutes we were ready. The sani, or riding-
camel, squatted at the door, waiting for me: I threw some coverings over the
saddle to make it more comfortable, and took my place on the hind seat; my
driver bestrode that in front, and the camel sprang to his feet. The saddle used
for camel-riding, as no doubt most of my readers are aware, is double, so that the
two riders find themselves fitted close to one another. The position of the one
who is behind is not the most agreeable on account of this proximity; but I had
chosen it, to accustom myself a little to the motion of the camel before I attempted
to guide it myself. I remained for half an hour without being able to find my

 

 

 

 
RA¥POOR. ” igs

equilibrium, violently jolted and clinging to the back of the camel; my compan-
ion, however, suffered equally with myself. At the end of this time I felt more
at my ease, and was able to take some notice of the road we were travelling.
Ahmedabad was already far off, ang the daybreak lighted up an immense plain
covered with bare fields and dotted with groups of trees, denoting the sites of
the villages.

At Rajpoor, which we reached at six o’clock, I found our tent pitched under
a large tree on the bank of a river. Our baggage was arranged round another
tree, where our attendants had established the kitchen and their headquarters.
Muskets and sabres, hanging from the boughs, gave the whole a somewhat warlike
aspect. I cannot express how this scene, gilded by the splendour of the morning
sun, transported me with joy. It was, indeed, the commencement of the serious
part of my journey. Hitherto I had followed beaten paths, in countries where
the influence of civilisation made itself felt, and where I had full directions how
to proceed ; here all was strange to me. What I should find in Rajpootana—a
good or a bad reception, a paradise or a desert—I knew not. I spent that day in
going about the village, and in shooting a few hares and peacocks, which latter
were not held sacred here; and towards night I enjoyed the spectacle of the
return of the cattle, four or five hundred oxen and buffaloes passing at full speed,
rushing towards the river to quench their thirst after a long day of drought.

I here transcribe my diary, which will enable me to present to my readers a
more succinct and accurate account of this journey than I otherwise could bring
before them.

December 21.—We leave Rajpoor at two o'clock in the morning. The night
is very dark, but, the country being perfectly flat, our camels proceed without any
difficulty. The villages are all at some distance from the road, for we do not
come to one before reaching Deagaum, a town of considerable importance, where
we arrived at four o'clock. We are stopped at the gate by some sowars, who
inquire our destination, and procure us bohmias, or guides, to conduct us to the
next village. This institution of bohmias is one of the most curious and most
useful in this country. They are persons of low caste, appointed, by way of rent-
service, to guide travellers from one village to another. Their service is obligatory,
and the council of the village recompenses them by according to them the right of
sojourning in the locality, and giving them certain portions of arable land. The
country being wholly destitute of roads, the traveller would run great risk of going
astray without the assistance of these guides. The poor fellows have a very trouble-
some vocation, being obliged to get up at all hours of the night to escort, for
several leagues, parties of travellers, who pay them a halfpenny per coss, or two miles
English ; indeed, they think themselves fortunate if they are not compelled to go at
a double pace, and are not sent away without any remuneration at all. The dawn
finds us still in the midst of these interminable plains; meanwhile, the trees become
more numerous and form small forests, which proclaim that we are approaching a
mountainous region. At six o’clock we reach the village of Resial, where we encamp
for the day. Here we essay in vain to procure provisions, and are obliged to content
ourselves with our chickens and the produce of our sport. The chief of the village
comes to pay me a visit, and asks me to make him a present of one of the peacocks
I have killed. I give him one, and distribute the rest amongst our escort.

December 22.—On setting out from Resial, which we leave at two o'clock in
138 INDIA.
the morning, we enter upon extensive sandy wastes, where the cold makes itself
keenly felt; our attendants, enveloped in their wrappings, appear to suffer very
greatly from it. At daybreak we penetrate into deep ravines, hollowed out by
the rains. The steep banks assume most fantastic shapes, and the villages perched
on their summits appear to be situated on the heights of inaccessible hills, whereas,
in reality, they are on a level with the plain. Near the village of Hursole we
pass a beautiful river, flowing between precipitous cliffs some fifty feet high. The
great width of its bed, the height of these earthen walls, and the total absence of
vegetation give an aspect of wild grandeur to this nearly dry nullah. On the
other side we ascend on to the plain, where we find the ruins of Hursole, an old
English cantonment, which has been abandoned some years. The broken roofs of
the barracks and bungalows are covered with creeping plants; and the gardens,
whose walls are still standing and the gratings closed, are filled with an exuberant
vegetation.

Some miles from this ruined encampment runs a chain of hills, bare and of
low elevation, which may be considered as the base of the Dounghér Mountains,
on the Goojerat side. Behind these hills, then, commences the Bagur, or country
of the Bheels—that wild and mountainous region which separates the tablelands
of Malwa from Goojerat, and which forms the south-eastern boundary of the vast
country of the Rajpoots. The mountains that cover this district form the point
of junction of the two great Indian chains of the Arvalis and the Vindhyas, and
are generally known by the inhabitants of the country under the name of
Dounghér..... On crossing these hills the heat becomes excessive, so we delay
only a very few moments to pursue and kill an antelope.

An hour’s journey across a sandy plain, with the sun darting his rays upon
us, brings us to the village of Bar Daukrél. Through an error in my calculations,
to-day’s journey has been about twenty-two miles, and all my party arrive at
their camping-ground worn out with fatigue; for this stage, which in Europe
would be considered very moderate, is almost a forced march in a pathless
country where you have continually to make a round in this or that direction.
Bar Daukrél is a tolerably large village in the midst of a beautiful wood of
mango-trees. Its inhabitants are still of the Goojerat type, and appear to have as
much aversion for the Bheels as their fellow-countrymen of the plain... .
During the evening I make an important addition to our caravan—four soldiers
from Puttiala, who are returning to their country, and ask leave to join us in
order to cross the country of the Bheels. They are stout, lively fellows, armed
with sabres and matchlocks, and I at once accept their proposal, promising that,
if they behave themselves well from this to that, I will recompense them
generously when we reach Oudeypoor. The arrival of these auxiliaries is
welcomed joyfully by my people, and the guard of the encampment is entrusted
to them for that night.

December 23.—Some few hours’ night marching brings us to the far end of
those monotonous plains over which we have been travelling since we left Baroda,
and in the morning we reach a pretty village whose huts are ranged on a
picturesque hill of milky quartz. We traverse a beautiful forest, on leaving
which we reach the borders of a lake. ‘The scene is one of the greatest possible
beauty. This vast sheet of water, covered with lotuses in flower, amid which
thousands of aquatic birds are sporting, is encompassed with a screen of banyans
THAKOURS. 139

and other giants of the tropics, of sombre foliage. No human being appears on
these shores, and the inhabitants of the lake enjoy the beautiful morning in
perfect tranquillity. Long rows of flamingoes, with roseate wings, seem to be
holding a grand review on one of tie little islands almost on a level with the
water ; battalions of wild geese, and ducks of a hundred different species, furrow
these’ deep waters into regular waves; water-fowl, of purple or indigo plumage,
hop over the large leaves of the lotus; while herons, adjutants, and karkhoondj
perch on the submerged boughs of the trees along the bank. I forbid my folks to
disturb this aquatic people, and we proceed along the beach without creating any
great flutter. The country becomes more and more beautiful. How fortunate I
am to have preferred these laughing mountain lands to the broiling plains of
Deesa ! ,

As we near Tintoui, where we are to encamp, the country is again traversed
by rills and covered with fields of enchanting verdure. The roads go between
flowery hedges which rise above our heads, and form a charming avenue which
leads to the Mookam.

The Mookam, or “ place of encampment,” is in general a wood, situated near
a village, and of which the soil is levelled. It is specially reserved for travellers,
and always provided with a reservoir and sometimes with a small temple, so that
the pilgrim finds there everything necessary for him—water, shade, and a sacred
place wherein to perform his devotions. The Mookim of Tintoui is of the great-
est beauty: great mango-trees, nims, and banyans surround a glade covered with
green and smooth grass, where I had our tent pitched. At a little distance
appeared the village, seated on a hill, at the entrance of sombre defiles, whose
bluish peaks stand out on the horizon ; a fort with crenellated ramparts command-
ing the country around. :

Tintoui is of great importance from its position at the entrance of the defiles
of the Dounghér Mountains. This town is the residence of a Rajpoot baron, or
Thakour, who is a tributary of the Mahrattas, but is the real king of the country.
These Thakours correspond in all respects with our barons of the feudal age; and
it is very curious to find this system existing in our days, and especially to find it
with all the particulars that belong to our institutions of the Middle Ages. Like
our lords of the olden time, the Thakours have the right to administer justice
throughout their territories, and only acknowledge their dependence on the
sovereign by a tribute in men-at-arms or money and some rare visits to the
capital. Haughty and turbulent, they are engaged in continual quarrels with
their neighbours, and live largely on the pillage of the caravans that traverse their
country. The English Government has, it is true, apparently put this system of
brigandage into good order; but, instead of making it disappear, it has merely
moderated and regulated it. From being the robber of the caravans, the Thakour
has become their protector; instead of pillaging them, he taxes them, after the
system of “black mail” practised formerly amongst the Highlanders. A caravan,
on reaching the territory of a Thakour, has to pay so much per cent. on the value
of its cargo, in consideration of which the Thakour guarantees it a safe passage
through the defiles. If, on the contrary, trusting in its own strength, it risks
itself without this safe-conduct, it is sure to be attacked and pillaged by all the
mountain bands put on the alert by their chief, who is no other than the Thakour.

The latter, exercising the functions of a magistrate, receives the complaints of
es INDIA.

the unfortunate victims, records them with much ceremony, and ee his aes
earrigon on the move; but the searches are always in vain,—the soldiers. re oe
without a prisoner ; and, by way of solitary consolation, the Thakour ae = S
the merchants what folly and rashness they have displayed in refusing the aid o
me ei Tintoui I am received by the Thakour’s guards, who present
his respects to me, and announce his intention to call on me; but, ee ie
to see the castle, I beg them to conduct me to the presence of t eir chief.
A very steep declivity, paved with large flags on which the meu at ga)
step, leads us to the gate of the keep, which is defended by small towers an

a circle of stakes.bound with iron. The interior so greatly resembles our feudal
fortresses of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries that the reader may picture

 

 

THE THAKOUR’S CASTLE, AT TINTOUI, IN THE BHEEL COUNTRY.

to himself the earliest of the numerous castles that adorn the banks of the Rhine.
An odd medley of towers, pinnacles, and terraces on one side overlooks the preci-
pice, at the bottom of which are seen the peaceful mansions of Tintoui.

The Thakour, a white-bearded Rajpoot noble, receives me with much affability,
and inquires the object of my visit. At the name of his suzerain, Khunderao, he
bows profoundly, while he replies that, as I am the friend of the powerful
Guicowar, he is but my humble slave, and that I may freely dispose of his
person, his followers, and his country. I content myself with only demanding his
protection in passing through the defiles, and a few horsemen, to add to the
importance of my caravan. I next question him as to these famous Bheels, their
habits and customs, and I obtain a mags of interesting details. He deplores, with
real sorrow, the too considerable depredations carried on by his tribes, which have
MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE BHEELS. 141

ruined the country by diverting the caravans into other tracks. The good man
complains very naturally of the rapacity of his neighbours, which hinders him
from indulging his own.

Some hours after my visit the chief comes to pay me his respects in my camp.
He is accompanied by a troop of Rajpoot horsemen who caracole on their beauti-
ful Kattywar horses, while the villagers from a respectful distance contemplate
the interview. The movements of the old Thakour are full of dignity, and his
slightest words breathe the politeness, replete with etiquette, characteristic of
a courtier of the court of Oudeypoor—the model of bon ton for the whole of India.
On quitting me he clasps me in his arms, assuring me that, if so many winters
had not passed over his head, he would not have yielded to any one the honour
of guiding my caravan as far as the outposts of Kairwara. His son and three
horsemen, however, join us; and they come that same evening to pitch their tent
beside ours... . .

The Mookaém of Tintoui possesses one of those antique cisterns known by the
name of baolis, and which one may class among the most interesting monuments
of the country. It consists externally of a range of tchdtris, or kiosks, placed at
an equal distance from one another. The entrance of the baoli is under the first
kiosk, whence a staircase goes down to a landing-place, situated immediately
beneath the second kiosk, which thus is supported by two storeys of columns.
The staircase continually descends, the number of storeys of columns augmenting
from one kiosk to another up to the last, which consequently has four or five
storeys surrounded by galleries ; at the extremity is a large circular well, the water
of which, at its level, bathes the last steps of the staircase. These structures are
sometimes upwards of three hundred feet long, and contain regular rooms with
roofs, supported by elegant pillars and walls decorated with bas-reliefsy. When
they are found, as at Tintoui, in a desert place, I know few monuments that strike
the traveller more, when, entering them for the first time, he penetrates gradually
into these mysterious galleries.

But it is time to say a few more words to the reader about these Bheels,
who have engaged our attention so long, and into whose country we are about
to penetrate.

The Bheels may be considered as the remnant of that great autochthonous
race which peopled the districts known under the name of Rajpootana and Malwa.
Driven back by the Aryan invasion, they took refuge in the mountains, and
forgetting, by degrees, their ancient civilisation, fell into that state of degradation
in which we find them at the present day. Their legends have preserved few
memorials of the epoch when they reigned as masters in the plains; nevertheless,
in one of the songs of their bards we find the origin of the hatred that exists
between them and the Brahmins. According to them, the god Mahadeo, wandering
one day, worn out with fatigue, in a forest, was welcomed by a young woman of
great beauty, the sight of whom restored to him all his vigour. He married her,
and had several children by her, one of whom, remarkable for his ugliness, his black
skin, and his great strength, killed Naudi, the sacred ox of the god. As a punish-
ment for his crime, he was held accursed, condemned to banishment in the forests,
and received the name of Nichada or Bheel, that is to say, “the outlaw.” Can we
not see from this, that these people, unwilling, like the other Soudras, to submit
themselves to the yoke of the Brahmins, were accused by the latter of the crime
ua INDIA.

the most odious in the eyes of the Hindoos, that of killing the sacred ox—a crime
which, in their pride, they have never chosen to disavow? ‘Two facts sufficiently
prove the ancient power of the Bheels: first, the part which one of them always

Mt
cy

 

THE .cHATRI, AT TINTIOUI, IN THE BHEEL COUNTRY,

plays in the coronation of the Rajpoot kings of Meywa, when it is a Bheel who
hands to the king the emblems of his new dignity ; and, next, the veneration they
have preserved for certain ruined towns in the plain, the remains of which attest
an epoch of considerable civilisation.
THE BHEELS. 143

Treated for centuries like wild beasts, the Bheels styled themselves the thieves
of Mahadeo, and have made terrible reprisals ; they have declared eternal warfare
against this Hindoo people which has banished them. Withdrawing into
inaccessible districts, they have liged in almost perfect independence, paying
revenue to no one, and scattering terror amongst merchants and agriculturists.
They are divided into clans or tribes, commanded by chiefs, to whom they yield
blind obedience, and who direct their marauding expeditions. Their villages, or
pals, are always placed on heights commanding the roads, and each house forms a
veritable fortress. These houses, whose walls support a roof of thatch, are placed
in the centre of an enclosure formed of brushwood and cactus. In case of danger
the inhabitants intrench themselves behind these walls, through which they watch
their enemy and can launch their arrows. At the least serious alarm, the women
and children join the cattle and seek safety in the ravines, whilst the men remain
alone to defend the hearth.

They do not recognise any caste amongst them, and the tribes mutually inter-
marry. Their marriage ceremony is extremely simple. On a fixed day all the
marriageable young men make their choice among the marriageable girls, and each
takes the object of his choice into the forest, whence they return, as legally married,
a few days after. ‘Their religion is perfectly primitive, their principal divinities
being the maladies and the elements. A mass of stones daubed with red ochre,
or a flagstone rudely sculptured, constitutes their temple. They have, however, a
special devotion for the mhowah, that gigantic tree that furnishes them with
everything—oil, wood, and spirits: they hang utensils of iron on its branches,
and consummate their union beneath its shade. They have no prejudice as to the
food that constitutes their nourishment, and eat with indifference everything that
comes in their way. The Bheels are generally of the middle height, and, though
wanting the elegant form of the Hindoo, are much more robust. Their strength
and agility are sometimes surprising. Their features are coarse, the nose often
flat, and the cheekbones prominent ; their black hair hangs down round their heads
uncared for, a simple twist bound round the temples serving them for a turban.
They go almost completely naked, wearing, in general, only a langoutt, two or
three fingers in breadth. The women are of a superior type, not so dark, and of
an elegant figure, their carriage always bearing the impress of a certain pride.
Their costume consists of a piece of cloth which encircles the loins, and being
drawn over the shoulder, leaves one of the breasts bare; and they wear on their
arms and legs such a number of bangles that they reach from the wrist to the
shoulder and from the ankle to the knee. The bangle is made of a material very
similar to English sealing-wax, and is painted in many patterns. The Bheel never
goes out without his bow and arrows. The bow is very ingeniously constructed of
two pieces of bamboo, the thinnest forming the string; the arrows are two feet
long, and made of a very light reed, feathered, and armed with a point of forged
iron, from four to nine inches long. They are very adroit in the management of
this weapon, and hit their mark with great precision at twenty-five yards’ distance;
they use them even in tiger-hunting. Hunting and fishing are their favourite
occupations. They join in great numbers to make their battuwes, and have a way
of poisoning the watercourses by means of the milk of the cactus, and thus
catching the fish they contain.

The Bheel wives exercise great influence over their husbands, and it is said that
ae INDIA.

they are very humane towards the prisoners. In spite of their intestine strifes, the
tribes always unite together in a case of common danger. As soon as the kisri,
or war-cry, composed of several acute syllables, resounds in the valley, it is trans-
mitted from pal to pal, and in a short time hundreds of warriors are assembled at
one point. They also imitate very readily the cries of jackals, hyenas, and birds
of the night, and can thus communicate signals to one another. Notwithstanding
their faults, the Bheels have two qualities which are often wanting in the Hindoos
—that is to say, a profound gratefulness towards their benefactors and a great,
respect for their pledged faith. They have given a striking proof of the first in
the revolt of 1857, in protecting the English menaced by their Sepoys, and in
enro ling themselves to go and fight the insurgents. They owe, indeed, very
much to the English, who have done everything to draw them from their bar-
barism and who have already succeeded in putting a stop to the raids which the
Rajpoots used annually to make into the country, in order to burn the pals and
the crops of the unhappy savages. As to the point of honour, they carry it so
far that they would allow to pass in perfect safety, and even protect, a rich
caravan which had obtained the promise of a safe-conduct, even from one of
their children.

The Bheel tribes still people the whole Bagur, a part of the chain of the
Arvalis and nearly all the Vindhyas. We may therefore estimate their number
between one and two millions of souls, which shows that they still constitute one
of the most important of the races of India, worthy, according to all accounts, of
a careful study. The intermixture of the Bheels and Rajpoots has given birth to
the caste of the Bhilaélas, who are very numerous in the valleys of Meywar, but
do not possess any of the good qualities of either race.

December 24.—This morning, at the moment of departure, there is nearly a
revolt amongst our troop, who refuse to march before sunrise. The cause of this
strange conduct is the news that there is at this moment, lying in wait by the
roadside, an admikanewallah, that is to say, a tiger of the class called “man-
eaters.” ‘The young Thakour joins me in persuading them to start, and succeeds
in this by pointing out to them that, as the tiger had recently killed a man (for
this was the news that had so frightened them), he must be satiated, and that
this is the most favourable moment for passing safe and sound. We leave the
camp amid the murmurs of the camel-drivers, who find that it is already quite
enough to expose their camels to be taken by the Bheels, without tigers joining
the party. Our troop has, however, become sufficiently imposing to keep these
enemies at a distance ; it now amounts to twenty-three armed men wherewith to
sustain a battle against the Bheels.

Buktawar Sing, the young Thakour, rides by my side, and entertains me with
anecdotes about the Bheels. He tells me also of the devastations committed in
the country by this man-eater, that has so terrified our people; who passes very
few days without finding a new victim, and is so crafty that the hunters have
never yet been able to take him. The Hindoos pretend that a tiger which has
once tasted human flesh will never more eat any other kind; on the other hand,
European hunters, having frequently remarked that these man-eaters are always
bare of parts of their coats, and sickly, have attributed this condition to the effect
of human flesh. The most simple explanation of these two hypotheses is this:
When the tiger grows old, he loses, like all animals, a great part of his strength
SAMEYRA. ide

and all his agility. Should he then attack, as before, a strong bullock on the
mountain, he is repulsed or only brings it down with difficulty ; should he
pursue a stag or an antelope, he finds it impossible to catch it. He therefore
watches anxiously by the roadside, and sees a man approaching; his hunger
overcomes the fear he always has for this strange animal, and he finds him an
ample and easy prey. This is why he abandons every other kind of chase, and
lives on mankind only.

A short distance from Tintoui the defiles become narrower; and at daybreak
we find ourselves at the bottom of a narrow gorge, overhung everywhere by walls
of nearly black rock; a thick forest, composed of the most magnificent odorous
shrubs of India, covering the sides and the crests of the mountain. The land-
scape is of a wild and grand beauty, surpassing our most beautiful European scenes.
Enormous blocks of white quartz, thrown here and there, sparkle in the sun. The
pals of the Bheels, placed on the summit of the cliffs, with a scanty circle of fields
at their feet, resemble, with their walls of backwood, gigantic eagles’ nests. At
various distances, the dark figure of a Bheel stands out on the summit of a rock.
These are the sentinels who keep watch over the road; not one of our movements
escapes their observation, but our number and the protection of the Thakour
guarantee us against any attack.

The valley we traverse about eight o’clock in the morning is one of the most
sacred places in the Bagur. In the centre of a wood planted with fruit trees, rise
three or four pagodas of great antiquity, visited at certain periods of the year by
the Bheel tribes, and even by the Rajpoots in the neighbourhood. They are
temples, with tall, slender towers covered with sculptures; magnificent columns,
of the Jain order, support elegant peristyles; and statues of elephants, with
elevated trunks, guard the entrance. At the time we passed, some bards alone
inhabited this sacred oasis, and I envied them their lot. A few paces from the
temple a large stream flowed, winding in its course beneath the trees, among the
branches of which thousands of birds, of golden plumage, and parrots sported.
Such a calm reigned all around, such a pleasant coolness over all the wood, that I
longed to pass at least one day there; but the want of provisions for my numerous
escort hindered me from establishing my camp there. It is impossible to dream
of a more beautiful corner of the earth than this oasis, hidden in the midst of the
gorges of the Dounghérs. ... .

The sun already is high above the horizon before we reach the Mookim
of Sameyra. This village, belonging to a Thakour, a vassal of the Rajah of
Dounghérpore, is situated at the entrance of a rich but small valley. Here,
again, the Thakour’s fort commands the neighbourhood. With this chief, also, I
have an exchange of courtesies, and I obtain two sowars to add to my escort.
.... A few paces from our tent is one of those curious baolis which I have
already described at Tintoui. This one appears to be of greater antiquity, and its
columns and bas-reliefs are superior in execution. Towards evening the young
Bheel women came to fill their pitchers at the cistern. I admire these superb
groups of young half-clad women, of elegant forms, advancing gracefully and
supporting their amphore on their heads. Some of the men come to sit under
the kiosks of the baoli, and attentively inspect us. The setting sun gilds the
summits of the surrounding peaks, and illumines with a fantastic light the

sublime picture spread before us. This night the sentinels are doubled, and
K
146 INDIA.

fires are lighted round the camp to show the Bheels that we are on the
watch.

December 25.—-Having to cross some difficult passes, we did not raise our
encampment till six o’clock in the morning. The country is of an aspect
indescribably wild. The depths of the valleys are encumbered with piled-up
fragments of rock, between which wind narrow paths; and it is marvellous to see
with what patience and address our heavily-laden camels overcome all these
obstacles. The horsemen of Tintoui and the soldiers from Puttiala form with me
the advanced guard; our camels, with their drivers, and thirty Indian travellers
who have joined us at different places on the route to cross the defiles under our
protection, are together in the centre; and Schaumburg, with some horsemen,
brings up the rear. This redoubling of precautions has been recommended to us,
for we have to cross one of the most redoubtable districts, the inhabitants of which
do not respect any caravan. After several very narrow passes, we enter a, fertile
valley, shut in between superb mountains: the cowp d’ez/ is very imposing ; these
masses of rock, these forests covering the declivities, form a whole of much
grandeur. The pals are very numerous, and appear in ranges on both sides.
Scarcely had we entered this place when an incident occurred that might have put
a stop to our journey altogether. During the morning we passed some Bheels,
who went by calm and silent, without responding to the fraternal salutes which
our sowars addressed to them. One of the latter, indignant at this incivility, took
advantage of one of these men being alone to throw himself upon him, beat him,
and snatch away his bow and arrows. This affair, which might have had such
terrible consequences for us, took place unknown to me, occupied as I was in dis-
cussion with Buktawar; but I was soon informed of it, for the soldier, knowing
that I had manifested a desire to possess some Bheel arrows, came in triumph to
bring me his trophy. I at once comprehended the danger we ran, and had
scarcely had time to give some orders when the war-cry resounded in the valley,
and was repeated by all the echoes. From every pal that we could see, men
came running down towards us. To describe the confusion that then broke out
in the centre of our caravan would be almost an impossibility. The women
shrieked ; the merchants behaved like madmen ; even the camel-drivers joined in
the uproar. As for our soldiers, their attitude was worthy of all praise. They
proceeded to charge their pieces and light their matches, and awaited my orders.
The Bheels, seeing us take up our position, advanced irresolutely ; our fire-arms
intimidated them somewhat. However, they were already in great force, and some
ventured to shoot arrows at us, but out of range. A few of them managed
to draw near us by creeping behind the bushes, and discharged a few shots, one of
which hit a camel, which began bellowing and thereby added to the disorder. I
was about to give orders to respond by opening fire upon them when I saw
an old Rajpoot horseman of our escort from Sameyra set off at a gallop towards
some high tufts of grass near which were our camels. Buktawar and I followed
him. At the moment we joined him, we saw him face about and fall, with raised
sabre, upon a poor old Bheel, cowering in the grass ; who was soon made prisoner,
and in the twinkling of an eye had his hands bound. This action produced a
magical effect. I heard terrible cries raised around ; arrows fell thickly about us;
and several shots were fired on the part of the caravan. We beat a retreat with
cur prisoner ; and, the old sowar having had time fo explain that he knew the
4 RENCONTRE WITH THE BHEELS. 147

old fellow very well as the chief of one of the pals, I had it proclaimed to the
Bheels that, if they continued to assail us, our first act should be to kill the old
chief; to which they replied with loud cries, but did not retire. When I had the
old Bheel unbound, he explained toeme, in bad Hindostani, how deeply the people
of his tribe had been pained and shocked by the insult we had inflicted upon them
in maltreating one of their number. They thought themselves, he said, under the
protection of Europeans, and were not accustomed to such proceedings. He
demanded the restoration of the bow and arrows lately despoiled. I assured him
that I deplored the event, and offered to give up the bow and arrows, and to make
the sowar apologise. The bow and arrows were then returned ; but, as for himself,
we detained him till we got out of the valley. At the moment of restoring him
to liberty, I had a large glass of brandy filled, which he drank off at a single
draught, and which seemed to gain me his entire friendship. He quickly rejoined
his own friends, who had followed us in silence; and thereupon he launched
against our party all the imprecations imaginable, crying out that he did not
recognise the obligation of salutation, except in the presence of Sahibs, and that,
if he ever again saw any of our followers in the valley, they should feel his
vengeance. This last menace apparently did not in the least disturb our sowars,
aithough they had to return home by the same road.

We encamped, to-day, near the town of Betchouwara, situate in the centre of
a wide valley ; pitching our tent under the shelter of a hill, on which is a temple
dedicated to Ganésa, to ensure ourselves some little protection against the sharp
wind which has been blowing since morning. The Thakour of the place came to
pay us a visit; and having indulged—no doubt to give himself some assurance—
in copious libations, he arrived in a lamentable state of intoxication. He appeared
to be proud and harsh with his subjects, and, during the interview, he afforded us
an unheard-of serio-comic spectacle by making us profuse apologies ; taking us, in
fact, for English officials authorised to exact an account of his conduct.

Having need of some provisions which I could not procure in the village, I
made a bargain with him, whereby he undertook to supply eight fowls and four
dozen eggs for a bottle of English rum.

December 26.—The defiles become more spacious, and the mountains, less
lofty and quite bare, seem to be entirely composed of a very brilliant laminated
schist, furrowed by thick veins of milky quartz. Setting out at five o’clock in the
morning from our last camp, we reached Khairwara towards noon. It is a long
valley, surrounded by mountains, circular and of small elevation. In the centre
is the English out-station of Khairwara, whose bungalows, barracks, and bazaar
cover small isolated mounds. ‘This out-station, or advanced post, is a point of
observation established by the British Government some years ago to keep the
Bheels in check; and the garrison is entirely composed of native mountaineers,
commanded by three European officers, who, with the doctor, constitute the whole
society of this forlorn point. On my arrival, I at once sought the residence of
Major Mackenzie, the commanding officer of the place, and learned with regret
his recent departure together with his officers; the date of their return not being
known. To console us, however, a havildar of the Bheel regiment very politely
conducted us to a pretty bungalow, which the Major kindly places at the disposal

of the few and far-between visitors. sat
December 27.—The pleasure of finding ourselves in a comfortable habitation
148 INDIA.

decided us on remaining over to-day at Khairwara. It is the first house in India
in which I have found a fireplace, and the rigorous cold makes me appreciate all
the comfort of a good fire. ‘lo crown our happiness, the Major arrived during the
day, and immediately invited us to come to his house. He was a charmingly
agreeable man, and one who testified as much interest in, as astonishment at, the
object that led us to traverse these regions. He listened attentively to every-
thing I related to him, and considered that we had escaped a great danger in our
rencontre on the 25th. We spent a delightful evening with the officers at the
Major's house ; all of whom expressed their surprise at our pursuit of the route
we had chosen. Eighty miles still separated us from the end of our journey ;
but, though still in the Bheel country, we had nothing more to fear.

 

OUR CARAVAN.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE COUNTRY OF THE BHEELS—(Continued).

The Aravali Mountains and their Riches.—Pursad.—Jackals—We lose our Way.—Oudeypoor,
the Capital of Meywar.—Our Bivouac at the Arena,—We are taken for Spies.—The Rajpoots,
—lLegends.—The Rao of Baidlah.—The Triumphal Arch at Tripolia.—The Town,—Lake
Peshola.—The Islands,

“N the morning of the 28th of December our caravan started
from Khairwara, escorted by five horsemen from the contingent
of Oudeypoor, who, by the orders of Major Nixon, took the place
of the sowars of Sameyra and Tintoui, whom I had dismissed.

At the distance of one or two miles from the station, we
““~—<—t entered the defiles. The aspect of the mountains was com-
pletely changed ; their lofty peaks, bare and rugged, differed very much from the
steep hills of southern Bagur, while their chains being farther apart formed broad
valleys furrowed by watercourses. We had left the Vindhyas and had now
entered the Aravalis. This chain which, separating from the great network of
mountains, runs in a northerly direction through the whole of Rajpootana as far
Delhi, is one of the richest and least known throughout India. The greater part
of it is composed of granite, resting on massive and compact beds of dark blue
slate; its valleys abound in coloured quartz, and in schistous, laminated slate,
which present every possible tint from purple to gold. Its productions are
inexhaustible, and here are often found black and coloured marble, gneiss, and
syenite. Besides gold, silver, copper, lead, and tin, this chain contains rock
_erystal, amethysts, chrysoline, carbuncles, and garnets, as well as a few small
emeralds; all which riches lie unused.

After a long march we reached Pursad, where we were to encamp. The
valley surrounding the village had been cleared of wood, to make room for fields,
which enabled one to take in the whole view at a glance. The houses are
prettily grouped on the ridge of a sterile hill, crowned with rose-coloured quartz ;
the gardens slope down gently to a nullah; and, rising above all, stand the sharp
peak of a pagoda and the towers of the baronial castle. The higher parts of the
mountain are inhabited by P4l Bheels. We hesitated for an instant between an
ancient and picturesque caravansary and a venerable banyan-tree on the edge of
the nullah; but the latter secured the choice, and we pitched our tents beneath
its enormous branches. I received the visit of the Thakour, and during the march
two sowars from Khairwara joined us, having been sent as a reinforcement by
Major Nixon. Our caravan, like a snowball, had so increased in size since we left

 
150 INDIA.

Ahmedabad that, in the evening, when all the camp-fires were lighted, a stranger
might have taken us for the vanguard of an expedition, instead of peaceable
travellers on the march.

One of the officers of the garrison at Khairwara had been kind enough to
give me a volume of Bishop Heber’ s travels in Central India, and I spent the
evening in extracting from the accounts of this indefatigable traveller information
concerning the country through which I was about to pass. In 1820, at the
time when he undertook to visit Rajpootana, he says that the journey was con-
sidered as dangerous as that into the centre of Africa. He had great difficulty
in collecting an escort to accompany him into these regions, which every one
depicted as savage and inhospitable, destitute of provisions and water, and overrun
by bands of brigands, hardly more to be feared by the traveller than the inhabi-
tants themselves. It is no doubt owing to these rather exaggerated descriptions
of Tod and Heber that many succeeding travellers have abandoned this magnificent
country, concerning which we have had scarcely any information since that time.

Several times during the night I was awakened by the piercing cries of
jackals prowling round the camp. Annoyed by their perseverance, I went out
of my tent to tell one of the sentries to drive them off by firing. But the soldiers,
tired out by their long day’s march, were all fast asleep round the fires, having
left the custody of the camp to the moon, which was shining with unusual
brilliancy. I walked towards the lazy men to recall them to their duty, when I
saw, at a short distance from me, an animal rise to its feet, and move away
slowly ; it was a cheetah which had approached our fires in the hope of surprising
one of our dogs. J allowed it to go off in peace, and awoke the guards with a
sharp reprimand for their negligence.

On the morning of the 29th we entered a series of gorges, ravines, and defiles,
of a character so wild and rugged that, fora moment, I feared the route would be
impracticable for our beasts of burden. The ground was formed of dark slate,
presenting its edges like knife-blades; and I am still at a loss to understand how
our poor camels managed to get over it without wounds. To look at their long
feet and huge humps, one can scarcely believe that these desert ships are so
useful amongst the mountains, carrying heavy boxes simply balanced, and passing,
with the confidence of mountain mules, over the most difficult places.

At eleven o'clock we descended into a beautiful valley, through which ran a
deep nullah. A magnificent group of temples, built of white marble, stood in the
centre of the plain, at a short distance from the village of Jowar. Major Mackenzie
had recommended me to pay them a visit, and had even advised me to establish
myself in one of them. 1 followed his advice, and, whilst our men were pitching
their tents beneath the gigantic banyan-trees which guarded the entrance, I took
possession of a splendid hall in the largest pagoda.

This was the first specimen of the famous Jain architecture of Rajasthan
which I had had the opportunity of seeing, and I examined it with the greatest
interest. The sanctuary, surmounted by a lofty tower of a slightly pyramidical
form, is covered with an infinite number of statues and fine sculptures, forming a
wonderful medley. Most of them represent musicians, dancing-girls, monsters,
and Hindoo gods worshipping impassible pontiffs of the Gymnosophists of India.
In front of the sanctuary is situated the chouri, the most important part of the
temple, that which is reserved to the worshippers. It is formed of slender
OUDEYPOOR. 151
columns, angular in shape and very simple, enclosing a huge square hall sur-
rounded by balconies. The pillars leave, quite in the centre of the hall, a large
circular space, covered by one of those wonderful Jain cupolas, which the small
columns raise several feet above therflat roof of the hall, thus giving it a light and
airy appearance. In no other monument had I found such height combined with
such lightness, simplicity, and good taste. The white marble, of which it is
entirely built, had acquired a yellowish tint from age, which made it look like a
building of carved ivory.

In front of the principal temple a great many statues lay scattered about,
some of serpentine, others of black marble; which had fallen from the ruins of
destroyed temples. On the other side of the river, at'the foot of a steep bank of
pink-coloured slate, stood another group of temples, inhabited by bats and over-
grown with brambles, which contained a few statues of the Tirthankars. All
these monuments prove what efforts the Jain missionaries made to convert and
civilise the inhabitants of these valleys. They may be said to have succeeded
for the time ; but at present nothing remains to tell of their passage but these few
magnificent relics.

One stage only separated us now from Oudeypoor; but, as a long march was
before us, I announced to my men that we would take advantage of the full moon
to strike the camp at one o’clock in the morning. Accordingly we only took a
nap; and at the hour above mentioned, having provided ourselves with Bheel
guides, supplied by the Thakour of Jowar, we started on our march. The moon
lighted up the country brilliantly, and we were advancing rapidly, when the guide
suddenly declared that he had mistaken the way. This did not seem probable ;
nevertheless, we had to resign ourselves to our fate and follow him across the
forest, our camels stumbling against the rocks and impeded by the prickly bushes.
We dismounted, and, fires being lighted, watchfully and patiently awaited the
dawn. At about five o’clock in the morning we started afresh on our journey,
and had the satisfaction of finding a path which led to a village. Before reaching
it a tiger caused us some alarm. It crossed our path, gazed at us for a few
moments, and then buried itself in the jungle; but the camels were very much
frightened at the sight of it, and gave us much trouble all the way to the village.
On arriving, the Bheels answered our inquiries most courteously, and, offering
themselves as guides, abused the man who had guided us from Jowar.

By sunrise we were crossing magnificent forests, where we saw numerous herds
of wild boars. The forest then seemed to come to an abrupt termination; and
at seven o’clock we found ourselves surrounded by numberless small mounds,
which were covered with luxuriant crops of an herb called Kalam. I have
rarely seen such an original-looking country. Game was abundant among the
grass and bushes, and I killed, even from our path, a great many partridges and
jungle-fowl. :

At length we passed round the last hill, and Oudeypoor, the capital of
Meywar, was before us. My men shouted and danced for joy. As for myself, I
stood in ecstasy gazing on the sublime panorama spread out.at my feet. Never
had I even hoped to see anything so beautiful: it resembled one of the fairy cities
in the Arabian Nights. In the foreground a long line of forts, pagodas, and
palaces stood out from a background of gardens, above which appeared the town,
a fantastic assemblage of bell-turrets, towers, and kiosks, built up the side of a
152 INDIA.

pyramidical hill; on the summit of which was an immense palace of white
marble, which contrasted finely with the dark blue of the mountains behind it.
This palace, with its splendid proportions, appeared to soar like the New Jerusalem
above a terrestrial city. Neither pen nor pencil could give the marvellous effect of
that town, which is well named Oudeypoor, the City of the Rising Sun. Soon,
however, this beautiful sight disappeared as we descended with difficulty into the
desolate ravines which guard this paradise.

On approaching the town, I inquired of several passers-by for the road leading
to the Residence of the English agent, and they eagerly accompanied us to it.
It is a huge palace, surmounted by domes and extensive terraces which cover the
whole summit of a hillock to within a short distance of the ramparts.

Some servants in scarlet livery announced, to my great disappointment, that
the English agent had not yet returned from his tour of inspection, and that it
would be impossible for us, in his absence, to find any lodvings in the city. I
cast a hopeless look on the surrounding country, where I saw nothing but stony
hills, without a single tree to shade our tent from the mid-day sun or to shelter
us from the cold at night. At this moment a jemadar, or head servant, came
running to offer us apartments in the buildings of the palace. There was no use
in hesitating, and I accepted, though somewhat reluctantly, the jemadaz’s offer,
making up my mind to quit the Residency as soon as I could find some camping-
ground.

On the following day, December 31st, our first care was to ride off to pay
a visit to the Dewan, Luchman Rao, for whom we had a letter from Major
Mackenzie. Our sowars formed our escort, and our little troop directed its
course towards the Gate of Elephants, which was the nearest of those which gave
entrance to the town. The ramparts, lofty and loopholed, are surrounded by a
deep ditch, full of running water; but they are composed of simple walls of great
thickness, without counterforts or earthworks: a few cannon-shot would make a
formidable breach in them. At regular intervals the wall is supported by square
bastions, armed with cannon. The gateway itself, which is very strongly fortified,
forms a winding entrance, defended by several portcullis, and under the fire of
the guns; while the gates themselves are armed with iron spikes, which prevent
assailants from employing elephants to break them in.

The officer commanding the guard came out at our approach, and asked us
where we were going. At the name of the Dewan, however, he signed to us to
pass, and deputed a soldier to conduct us to his abode. We then entered a
crowded and very narrow bazaar, where our sowars cleared the way for us, the
people staring at us with great curiosity, and appearing little accustomed to see
any other Europeans than those of the Residency. Everything was new to me;
the architecture of the houses, the types of the inhabitants, the temples which I
saw rising on all sides, the magnificent buildings standing amongst half-ruined
hovels ;—everything that surrounded me was not only new, but. strikingly
picturesque as well, of a character that I never even dreamt of.

I dismounted in the courtyard of the house of Luchman Rao. It was rather
a poor-looking, though original, edifice, with colonnaded galleries embellishing the
front, and the casements of the windows, partitioned with perforated slabs, pro-
jecting from the building. The minister received us well; but he was a Brahmin,
not a Rajpoot. Having been informed of the purpose of our travels, he answered
BIVOUAC AT THE ARENA. 153

with those Indian promises which mean nothing at all. “We wish to see the
Maharana.” “Certainly ; he will be very happy to receive you.” But as to how,
when, or where, 1 could not get the least explanation.

I asked him urgently to procureeus some lodgings in the town; but, refusing
to take that responsibility on himself without consulting the Rana, he offered us
the buildings of the Hawalla, or Arena, outside the town, and near the Residency.
I had nothing to do but to accept them, and I left him with bitter feelings, as I
compared my reception at Baroda with that which I had received here in the
capital of the Sun of the Hindoos.

I returned to the Residency and found all my men in holiday attire, and our
table laden with a Homeric repast—quarters of venison, vegetables, and fruit. I
demanded an explanation of all these festive preparations. My servants came in
order and saluted me, saying that it was to celebrate the end of the year, and to
put me in a right frame of mind to commence the next. We sat down, Schaumburg
and I, by ourselves, to the feast, and drank to that new year of which we expected
so much, and which found us isolated and abandoned in an inhospitable town.
But our impressions underwent a considerable change in a few days.

On the following day, the 1st January 1866, we transported our goods and
chattels into the buildings of the Arena. At any other time I should have
admired them; but the day was cold, and I could nowhere discover in all the
colonnades any shelter from the wind, which put me rather out of humour. I was
obliged, therefore, to make an artificial room in the centre of the largest hall, by
spreading the khanats of our tent from pillar to pillar.

This Arena, in which formerly were held elephant-fights and combats between
men, consists of several large pavilions, partly surrounding a long court, shut in on
the side towards the country by walls. The pavilions are of an imposing style,
raised on stone terraces, six or eight metres high, and formed of rows of pillars
which support a flat roof. That which we occupied contained no less than forty-
eight pillars, arranged in four rows, giving a very pretty effect. In these buildings,
besides, no wall intervened to hide the view, so that from the centre of this
elevated apartment one overlooked the whole neighbourhood. Such was the
lodging that we owed to the high protection of the prime minister, and to the
munificence of the Rana—very grand and beautiful as a monument, and no
doubt very pleasant in summer, but very uncomfortable during the cold weather.

Shortly after our instalment we received several visitors, amongst others the
Director of Prisons and a captain of the guards. These two were very civil to us;
but they plied us with reiterated questions, and I saw that they had a vague
suspicion that we were spies. I kept on repeating that we had come to visit the
country, to study its customs and explore its wonders. They incessantly asked,
“Who sent you?” and all my explanations failed to convince them that I had
incurred all the dangers of my long travels for the love of science.

The prime minister himself paid us a visit, accompanied by an imposing
escort. He was extremely polite, admiring the ingenious way in which we had
fitted up the Burra Derah, going into ecstasies over our horses, and delighted with
everything we had with us. Then, in the most artless manner, be begged me to
let him know the political mission I was charged, with, adding that no one should
hear of it but the Rana. However, seeing that I persisted in my denial, he
promised to present me officially to the prince the next day.
154 INDIA.

On the following day the same thing happened. At the very moment when
I was starting to attend the promised audience, one of the king’s secretaries,
Bulwant Rao by name, came galloping up on horseback and made me turn back.

 

 

 

 

 

SAMBHOO SING, THE MAHARANA OF MEYWAR.

With an air of great importance he informed me that it was necessary for me to
explain all that I wished to say to the Rana, before the interview. I had a great
mind to send him back with a message to say that I did not care to see the Rana
THE RA¥POOTS. 155

at all; but I checked my impatience sufficiently to repeat my explanations, and
to content myself with the usual answer. This time the secretary took short-hand
notes of what I had said, and he left me with the assurance that I should have
the desired interview in the course 6f a few days.

My reason for insisting on seeing the Itana was that, if I was once received
by him, I could count on a good reception from all the other Rajpoot Rajahs, as
they consider him the head of their race.

The present Maharana of Meywar, Sambhoo Sing, quite a young man (eighteen
years of age), a Rajpoot Ghelote of the clan of Sesoudias, is the recognised repre-
sentative of the Souriavanses, the famous Indian race of the Sun.

This renown, which belongs to a family of princes of secondary rank, is due
to the courage with which it opposed the Mussulman invasions. When conquered,
it broke off that degrading though profitable alliance with the imperial family at
Delhi, which the other Rajahs eagerly accepted, and preserved the purity of its
caste at the cost of its blood. This courage has not only placed it at the head of
the Indian nobility, but has also given it many honours and prerogatives. In the
assembly of princes the Rana always occupies the seat of honour, and has the
right of speaking; and, in the discussions which often arise amongst the Rajpoots
on points of caste or religion, he is the sole arbitrator, and from his sentence there
is no appeal.

The territory belonging to this family is, as near as possible, the same as it
has been ever since the Ghelote Bappa overthrew the Mori kings of Chittore, in
728, and established the dynasty of the Ranas. It comprises the provinces of
Meywar, bounded on the south by the Vindhya Mountains, on the west by the
Aravalis, on the east by Malwa, and on the north by Ajmere. The revenues of
this state, being at the present time some forty lakhs of rupees, place it among
the secondary states, although its extent, which is really considerable, assigns it a
higher rank. The future of this country should be very great, for it ought to
increase its revenue a hundredfold. Amongst the genealogical claims made by
the Ranas, there are two which are worthy of notice. They claim connection
with the kings of Persia, through a daughter of the last Chosroes, the great
Noushiroan, who married one of the Ranas; and with the Roman emperors of
Constantinople in a similar manner.

There is not a family in the world which possesses a pedigree so correctly
traced from fabulous times as that of the Ranas of Chittore and Oudeypoor. It
will be understood how much all these interesting reminiscences, attached to this
young man, increased my wish to see him, and to be able to study with him
these poetical traditions. ; nae

It is at Oudeypoor that one, nowadays, finds the chiefs of the principal
Rajpoot tribes—the Sesoudias, the Rahtores, the Chohans ; in fact, it is almost
the only place where this race is preserved in all its purity. One still finds
among the Rajpoots those brilliant qualities, that proud loyalty and urbanity,
which excited to such a pitch the enthusiasm of Colonel Tod, their. panegyrist
and historian. They have not allowed themselves to be influenced by the contact
of invading races, either Mogul or English, nearly as much as other tribes. Their
name means “Sons of Kings;” and each one of them can trace his genealogy.
back into the olden times, to the sovereigns of the country.

The names of the different clans are always derived from some memorable
156 INDIA.

oe

action of their founders. Thus the royal family of Oudeypoor, the Sesoudias, owe

their name to the following legend.
One day, one of the Ranas was hunting, with his nobles, in the plains of

\ :

h
ie

i

 

RAJPOOTS.

Meywar, when by accident he swallowed a large fly; which, lodging in his
stomach, caused him so much suffering that he wished to put an end to him-
self. But a fakir presented himself and offered to cure the Rana; and having,
THE SESOUDIAS. 157

unobserved, cut off the tip of a cow’s ear, the holy man wrapped it in a piece of
linen, tied a piece of string to it, and made the Rana swallow it. This bait
having reached his stomach, the fly took hold of it instinctively, and was easily
drawn out. The prince, however, insisted on knowing the means employed; and
the fakir, driven into a corner, at length told the terrible secret. Upon hearing
that a part of the sacred animal had thus passed his lips, the Rana was in con-
sternation. He felt himself unworthy of living after such a crime. Accordingly
he determined to put an end to his existence, purifying his lips by swallowing
molten lead. Surrounded by his weeping courtiers, the prince took the vase
with a firm hand, and emptied it at a draught; but, O miracle of the gods! the
liquid metal passed his lips without burning them, having been transformed into
deliciously cool water in his mouth. Recognising the divine protection in this
wonderful transformation, the Rana and his tribe took the name of Sesoudia,
derived from the substantive seesa (lead). Some rival tribes pretend, it is true,
that this name. is derived from. sessa (a hare), and that it was given to this tribe
because its warriors one day abandoned the pursuit of an enemy to hunt a hare
which had crossed their path. You see that puns are in vogue even among the
Rajpoots.

The Sesoudias are a good type of the race of the Sons of Kings; tall, well-
made, and possessing proud and expressive features of great beauty, which are
strictly of the Aryan cast. They wear the beard very long, divided into two
pointed whiskers, which forms the distinctive peculiarity of almost every Rajpoot.
Their only profession is that of arms; and in Meywar they constitute the whole
aristocracy and army. They are very courageous, good horsemen, and intrepid
hunters. A young Rajpoot, when grown up, is not received into men’s society
until he has, single-handed, killed one of the enormous wild boars which inhabit
the Aravalis. He starts alone, armed with his shield and his heavy catdr; and,
posting himself in one of the paths beaten by these animals, he awaits, with one
knee on the ground, the arrival of his terrible adversary. If he is successful, he
returns to his hut and invites the men of his family to a feast, which chiefly
consists of the boar he has killed. The Rajpoots are very partial to the flesh of
the wild boar.

The turbans of the Rajpoots are always coquettishly and gracefully folded.
Their shape is very various, Some are in the form of a cap with the edges
turned up, others like the Greek cap. Their costume is very elegant,—a long
tight tunic, and tight trousers, generally made of some richly embroidered stuff,
and trimmed with gold lacework. They alone of all the Indian castes wear,
round their ankles and wrists, heavy bracelets of solid gold. Their girdles are
always ornamented with a regular armoury of daggers, dirks, and swords, and
from their shoulders hangs the round, semi-transparent shield, made of rhinoceros-
skin, which is ornamented with gold knobs. Their horses are richly and taste-
fully caparisoned; the saddles high, well-stuffed, and covered with silk horse-
cloths ; and on each side hang yiks’ tails of snowy whiteness, which hide the legs
The horses’ heads, adorned with plumes, are attached to the

of the cavalier.
breastplate by a very short martingale, which forces the animals to arch their

necks in a most graceful manner. They take great care of their horses, and like
to see them very fat; and, like the Mahrattas, they make them jump and curvet

about.
158 INDIA.

The Rajpoot women are tall, well-made, and sometimes very pretty. Only
those of the highest classes are shut up in the zenana. The rest go free, with
the face uncovered ; but they modestly draw their sarri across their faces if they
perceive that they are being stared at by a European.

Their costume is very graceful, but not so light as that of the women of
Goojerat and the Dekkan. A large plaited petticoat descends to the knee; a
light bodice covers the breast and shoulders ; and a thin silk scarf, falling from
the head, where it is fastened in a point, completes their costume. -Like all the
Indian races, they cover themselves with ornaments of gold and silver.

There is still another order of men who have held a high position among the
Rajpoots from remote ages, viz. that of the bards or heroic poets. Every tribe
and every important family, every sovereign and every feudal baron, keeps one.
The duty of the bard is to preserve all the ancient traditions concerning the
origin of the race and family to which he belongs. He keeps the pedigree, and
on grand occasions recites the names of its ancestors and the nokle deeds which
rendered them illustrious. He is also a poet, composing hymns and distichs for
the family ceremonies, and charming the company in the evening with his
extempore poetry. The person of the Bhat, or bard, is sacred. He has the
honour of carrying the declarations of war; he arranges treaties, and plays an
important part in all negotiations. He employs himself also with the study of
astrology ; and amongst the desert tribes he holds a higher position than even
the Brahmin priest.

The Rajpoots now invest themselves with the title of Kshatriya, a name
which originally belonged to the warlike Aryan race which established itself on
the lofty tableland of Hindostan in company with the Brahmins—that race of
priests. As Kshatriyas, they trace their descent from Rama, the conqueror of
Lanka, who was king of the race of the Sun; by which they make out that they
were established in the country about 2000 years Bc. But it is now nearly
certain that their invasion of India dates from a much more recent epoch.
According to the Brahmins, the Kshatriyas were all destroyed by a general rising
of the other castes, which was directed by Parasowrama, an incarnation of Vishnu,
several centuries before our era. Whether they were destroyed or not, they
certainly lost their preponderance, for we find that several families of the Soudras,
amongst others the Mauriyas, succeeded each other on the imperial throne of
Magadha, The Rajpoots made their first appearance on the political stage of
India about the sixth or seventh century. They had remained a long time estab-
lished on the banks of the Indus; and Tod thinks that they are the Scythian
tribes who had invaded, little by little, the western frontiers of India. Between
the sixth and seventh centuries we find that these Rajpoot tribes became all-
powerful. The Chandelas took possession of Malwa; the Chohans and Rahtores
seized Canoujé and Delhi; and the Ghelotes and Baghelas took Meywar and
Goojerat. At that time the Rajpoots still kept themselves separate from the great
Hindoo family. Their religion was that of the Jains, and all their traditions had
reference to the noble Mount Aboo. They were, however, rapidly converted, and
then established those pretensions to the title of Kshatriya which the Brahmins
themselves have steadily refused to recognise up to the present time. Their type
differs largely from the other Hindoos, and their manners and customs resemble
those of the Parthians and Scythians rather than those of the Vedic Kshatriyas.
THE RAO OF BAIDLAH. 159

Everything, in fact, points to the Rajpoots as being the representatives of the last
Indo-European invaders of India.

The Governor of the Prisons, who came occasionally to see me, invited me to
visit the principal prison. It is a ligtle fort, pleasantly situated on the summit
of one of the low hills which overlook the town ramparts. Above the principal
entrance is the main building, with turrets, and balconies to the windows, having
a heavy overhanging cornice of handsome appearance. The Tanadar lives there.
The prisoners are lodged under great sheds, where they sleep on the hardened earth,
and long iron bars run the whole length of the halls, to which their chains are
attached at night. They are treated humanely enough; their chains are light,
and simply riveted to their ankles, and are long enough to allow them to run.
Each prisoner keeps the costume in which he entered the prison, and everything
which concerns his caste is scrupulously respected; each one daily receiving his
food and preparing it himself; for which purpose he is allowed to light a fire and
draw water in perfect liberty. These prisoners are employed in making roads
and keeping them in repair; but their daily work of a few hours is not subject
to strict supervision: in fact, they have very little to complain of, and the inhabi-
tants of our European prisons would consider themselves well off under similar
circumstances.

Just as I began to despair of gaining any advantage by remaining at Oudey-
poor, an unexpected arrival greatly improved the aspect of our affairs. The Rao
of Baidlah, who had only just heard of our arrival, hastened to come and rescue
us from the miserable predicament in which we found ourselves. I saw him
arrive, carried in a magnificent palanquin, and surrounded by a brilliant escort ;
and, taking him by the hand, I assisted him to alight, and conducted him
ceremoniously to his chair. This act, simple as it was, was of great service to
me. ‘Where have you learnt Indian etiquette, which the Sahibs are generally
ignorant of?” asked the Rao. This gave me an opportunity of telling him of my
long visit to Baroda, of my intimacy with the Guicowar, and of the reasons of my
having come into Meywar. He listened attentively, scolded me for not having
sought him out when I first arrived, and assured me that the Rana would cer-
tainly cause me to forget my first impression by receiving me as magnificently as
Khunderao.

The Rao of Baidlah is a handsome old man, a perfect type of the Rajpoot
race. His bearing is dignified and elegant, and his conversation has an air of
frankness, not without a certain amount of diplomatic etiquette, which is rarely
found among Indians.

He is the chief of the feudal council of the sixteen Raos or dukes of the
kingdom of Meywar, those powerful feudal barons who, before the interference of
the English, had rendered the sovereign’s power merely nominal. These Raos,
who are nearly all descendants of the royal family, have divided the country
among themselves in large fiefs, in which they exercise an almost independent
authority. They retire into their capitals, and rarely go to Oudeypoor; often
they are even in open revolt from the Rana. The British Government has made
great efforts to overthrow the power of these petty princes, and to concentrate the
power in the hands of the Rana; but it has not yet had much success. The
territory belonging to the Rao of Baidlah is considerable. His capital is within
a few céss of Oudeypoor, which enables him to live there and at the same time
160 INDIA.

to attend the court. He belongs to the tribe of Chohans, and enjoys several
curious privileges. Thus, for instance, on the 3rd of the month of Samvatsiri,
the insignia of royalty are brought to him at Baidlah, when he goes in great

 

PALACE IN THE ISLAND OF JUGNAVAS.

 

 

pomp to visit the Rana, who himself receives him at the entrance of the
palace.
Being both clever and polite, he has managed to gain the entire confidence
OUDEYPOOR. 161

of the young prince, and at the same time to keep on the most friendly terms
with the British Government. In fact, he represents two parties. He wishes
to preserve the ancient splendour of the house of Oudeypoor and the prerogatives
of the nobles ; but he also favours thg propagation of new ideas brought into the
country by the Europeans. A “ Liberal-Conservative,” he would like to see
European commerce and industry introduced into his country, on condition that
his privileges were respected.

The protection afforded to European fugitives during the mutiny of 1857
was due to his influence. They were not only protected from the rebels,
but also supported for several months. Queen Victoria recompensed the old Rao
by sending him a magnificent sword of honour, which he showed us with no little
pride.

His first visit lasted more than an hour. He wished to examine all our
luggage, down to the articles of our toilet, and went into prolonged ecstasies over
a stereoscope containing coloured views of the Tuileries and Versailles; of which
I had to make him a present, for he could not tear himself from it. To show
us that he was a perfect master of civilised habits, he took a glass of sherry and
asked me for a cigar. This astonished me more than I can express, having never
seen any Indian, especially one of high caste, thus openly adopt our customs.
Since then I have been able to convince myself that the Rajpoots have thrown
aside the prejudices of their caste, as regards the use of our wines and tobacco,
of which indeed they consume a great deal.

The Rao had scarcely left us when we received several ddlis, baskets of fruit
and vegetables, from some of the nobles; and in the evening the Rana sent a
Thouldar, who brought us his salaams and a magnificent dali, The visit of the
Rao of Baidlah had brought about a complete change.

In the morning we found an elephant sent by the Rao, with a jemadar
and four sowars as an escort. Bulwant Rao, the king’s secretary, who filled the
place of cicerone to us, led us through a suburb of the town, which contained the
villas of the rich inhabitants of Oudeypoor. On all sides were little hills covered
with shady gardens, in which we could see pretty kiosks, and pavilions built
on the edge of ornamental pieces of water, together with numerous marble
temples. We entered the town through a gate flanked by bastions, and passed
along the side of a handsome bazaar. The shops are placed under arcades
on each side of the road, and have an air of regularity and cleanliness which
surprised us who had seen the buildings at Goojerat. The general appearance of
the town is most striking. Every house possesses its balconies and its stone
trellised windows relieving the monotony of the walls ; terraces are seen in pictur-
esque disorder; and sculptures, arabesques, and frescoes are met with here and
there.

Some of the streets are long and straight, and great animation reigns in them.
In one live all the shoemakers, in another the turban-weavers: here every shop is
a regular arsenal of swords, guns, and shields; and there brocaded robes and
jewellery fill the stalls. Each business and each trade occupies a quarter by itself,
and every one seems to ignore the competition of his neighbour.

The quarter of the nobility contains some magnificent buildings, regular castles,
fortresses with loopholed walls, towers, palace, and barracks; but their beauty is

disfigured by the numerous ruins which surround the most splendid palaces. The
L
162 INDIA.

presence of these ruins in one part of the town, where the land is proportionately
of high value, is accounted for by the ill-conceived respect of the Rajpoots for the
works of their fathers. They do not like either to repair or to destroy them, so
they leave them where their fate made them fall. From every part of the town
the palace is visible—a majestic assemblage of domes, turrets, and porticos.

With difficulty we climbed the roads which conducted to the outbuildings
belonging to the palace; they are so steep that carriages can scarcely ascend
them. On the high road which leads from the Hahtipoh to the palace, and close
to the grand entrance, stands the pagoda, dedicated to Juggernauth, and built by
Pertab Sing towards the end of the sixteenth century. It is situated on a lofty
terrace, composed entirely of white marble, to which access is had by a handsome
flight of steps, guarded by marble elephants with raised trunks. The whole
temple, in fact, is built of white marble, and is covered with sculptures. The
great tower is very elegant, and rears its summit to a height of about seventy-five
feet, where the standard of the god floats from a golden staff. A graceful pavilion,
with a pyramidical roof supported by pillars, stands in front of the building ; bas-
reliefs, representing incidents in the life of Krishna, adorn the walls; and
statuettes of elephants and lions surround its base. This peristyle is one of the
most beautiful specimens of Jain architecture in Oudeypoor. We then descended
the slope of the hill facing the lake, and reached a gateway built on the water’s
edge. This arch is, like all the monuments of Oudeypoor, built of white marble:
it consists of three indented arches, and supports an elegant cupola surrounded
with a balcony. The Indians regard this gateway, which is called Zripolia, or
“Triple Gate,” with great veneration. It is never used but for processions which
go to the lake during the numerous festivals that are held there. A boat awaited
us at the jetty to convey us to the islands, and soon we were floating on the tran-
quil waters of Lake Peshola, in the calm depths of which the houses and gardens
of the town, stretching along its shores, were reflected. The extremity of the lake
is confined in a narrow channel by numerous promontories, which are covered
with palaces; farther on, it expands into an enormous ellipsis, in the centre of
which are the two islands of Jugnavas and Jugmunder. On one side there is a
chain of angular mountains, at the foot of which stands the town; on the other
are swamps, surrounded by jungle and overlooked by several isolated hills of con-
siderable height.

The island of Jugnavas was the nearest, so we landed on it. It is literally
covered by a series of palaces, which were built by the Rana Juggut Sing, and
extends over an area of a hundred and sixty acres. These palaces contain
reception-halls and apartments, and baths and kiosks of most beautiful archi-
tecture, ornamented with a richness quite fabulous. Marble is the only stone
employed in their construction; pillars, vaults, reservoirs, garden walks, all are
of marble, either white or black; the walls are ornamented with glittering
mosaics, and the principal chambers are decorated with historical frescoes. Each
mass of buildings has a garden attached to it, surrounded by galleries, where
flowers and orange and lemon trees grow near a stream, the different channels of
which form a curious pattern. Immense mango-trees and tamarinds shade these
beautiful palaces, while the cocoa-nut and the date-palm raise, above the very
domes, their feathery heads, which are gently swayed to and fro by the breeze
from the lake. The smallest details harmonise with the beauty of the whole
ISLAND OF $UGNAVAS. 163

scene. There is nothing grand, nothing which inspires the mind with awe.
The palaces are small, elegant, and comfortable; they are the abodes of pleasure,
where the Rana can divest himself of solemn pomp, of which there is always so

e

THE ISLAND OF JUGMUNDER, OUDEYPOOR.

 

c .
i i.
4

i i

much at the Court of the Sun of the Hindoos. I would willingly have remained
on this island for hours; but Bulwant Rao pressed me to visit the second, Jug-
munder, where breakfast, sent by the Rao of Baidlah, awaited us. We lnnded
at a flight of marble steps, at the side of which a row of elephants with uplifted

| |
164 INDIA.
trunks appeared to support the quay. A gigantic mango-tree nearly filled the
first court, which is surrounded by the buildings of the palace. On the other
side is a garden, occupying that entire end of the island which is overlooked by
a large building, surmounted by a Mogul dome, called by my guide the Palace of
Shah Jehan. ‘This prince, son of the Emperor Jehanghir, having revolted from
his father, sought refuge at the court of the Rana Kouroun, son of Oumra, who
received him in a magnificent manner. He had a splendid palace built for him on
the island of Jugmunder, on the summit of which he placed the Mussulman crescent.
The interior was decorated with mosaics in jasper, agate, and onyx, and hung
with rich draperies; and in one of the halls a throne was placed carved out of a
solid block of greenish serpentine, supported by four female caryatides; and in the
court a chapel, also of serpentine, was consecrated to the Mussulman saint, Madar.
Many of these souvenirs of the princely hospitality of Kouroun still exist.

At the end of the garden stands a pavilion, twenty feet long and twelve feet
wide, called the “Chamber of the Twelve Stones,” because it is built of twelve
blocks of white marble. On the western side of the island is a palace, roofed
with four domes of the shape of a tortoise’s back, and containing magnificent
gardens, while at intervals kiosks, supported by numerous pillars, rise out of the
lake itself, which causes them to be deliciously fresh and cool. This poetical
residence, built for a royal outlaw, was destined, by a curious coincidence, to
serve a long time afterwards as a refuge for other fugitives. It was on this
island that the unhappy remains of the English garrisons of Neemuch and Indore
found an asylum in 1857. In order to prevent any attempt against them on
the part of the fanatics who filled the town, the boats on the lake were collected
and taken to Jugmunder; and the Europeans were there able to wait for better
days. From this spot on the lake the view embraces the whole line of the
palaces of Oudeypoor ;—first, at the end of the hill the palace of Oumra, now
uninhabited; then the present palace, with its embattled zenana, its rosana,
the immense wall of which descends from the summit of the plateau to the lake
and its gardens, in which stand several kiosks, covering the slope to the water's
edge; and finally, the town itself, the fantastic outline of which is lost among
huge trees. Lake Peshola reflects in its limpid surface this marvellous scene,
one of the most beautiful in India, if not in the world.

On reaching the quay, the state barges of the Rana were shown to me; huge
gondolas, of graceful build, which can carry about fifty people. The stern is
arranged in several stages, on the highest of which is placed the Rana’s seat;
and the bows are ornamented with large figureheads of horses or peacocks, half
submerged in the water.

In the evening we received a visit from our friend the Rajah of Baidlah, and
thanked him for the pleasure he had procured us. He came to tell us that he
had ordered his shikaris to take us to a part of the country which abounded in
game. On the following morning, accordingly, we were taken to a beautiful little
lake, hidden in a ravine, where we found wild-fowl in abundance. Crocodiles
also were very numerous on the lake, and made us lose some of our game; we
made up the difference, however, with partridges and hares, numbers of which we
found in the surrounding country.

The Rao of Baidlah kept us thus for several days, inventing new amusements
every day, when at last I was awakened one fine morning by the firing of cannon,
ARRIVAL OF ENGLISH OFFICERS. 165

announcing the long-expected arrival of Major Nixon, the political agent of the
Viceroy of India at the Court of the Maharana. I wrote to him immediately, en-
closing my letters of introduction, and within half an hour we were sitting with
him at breakfast. He seemed by né*means surprised to hear of the coldness with
which we had been received, and told me that we had been taken for Russian spies.
He made me promise, however, to remain a little longer, assuring me that, as soon
as he had presented us to the Maharana, we should find quite as much to see and
study at this Court as at that of Baroda. He gave orders forthwith to enable us
to leave our camp at the Arena and to lodge near him. The same evening Major
Nixon introduced us to two English officers, the engineer and the doctor, who,
together with him, constituted the whole European establishment of the Residency.
I have seldom spent so pleasant an evening. Months seemed to have passed since
I had seen a white face, and the English language sounded harmoniously in my
ears. We drank to our mutual welcome in the happy valley, and did not separate
till late at night.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE COURT OF THE MAHARANA OF OUDEYPOOR.

The Palace.—The Reception at the Durbar.—Festivities at Jugnavas.—Lake Peshola,—
Hunting in the Aravalis,

SHE arrival of the English political agent effected, as I had
foreseen, an immediate change in our position at Oudeypoor ;
and, when officially informed of our arrival, the Rana was
pleased to receive us in our capacity of French travellers, and
ceased to look upon us in the light of Russian spies, come with
a “% the intention of drawing him into some conspiracy. With
extreme courtesy, Major Nixon offered to present us himself to the prince, and
undertook that our first interview should compensate for the length of time we
had waited. We traversed the town triumphantly in one of the royal carriages,
with a guard of honour, which was sent to conduct us to the Residency; and the
soldiers of the royal guard stationed at the grand entrance of the palace—a gate
with three arches—presented arms to us as we alighted in the court. The Rao of
Baidlah was deputed by the Maharana to receive us, and awaited our arrival at
the head of the stairs.

Before following the choubdars with gilt canes, who were to conduct us to the
throne-chamber, I paused for a moment to contemplate this marvellous dwelling,
the entrance to which had till then been so strictly forbidden me; lofty walls
pierced with stone-mullioned windows, towers crowned with elegant domes, gallery
upon gallery mounting up to a prodigious height, all of white marble, and finished
with the most elaborate detail. It was altogether fairylike as regards richness,
and astounding in size—a gigantic structure to which nothing can compare.

But I could only take a hurried glance at these marvels before I was called
upon to follow Major Nixon through long vaulted galleries, deliciously fresh and
cool, which led by a gentle incline to the upper storeys.

The Rana did us the honour to receive us at a grand Durbar. The word
Durbar applies, throughout Rajpootana, to the audiences held by the Rajahs,
surrounded by their chief nobles. A huge awning, spread over an open court
in one of the upper storeys, formed a vast and cool apartment, in which the
throne was placed. The attendants ushered us ostentatiously into the presence
of the king, who was seated on a silver throne supported by gold lions, the nobles
on either side of him forming a semicircle. On seeing us, the prince descended
from his throne and, advancing a few steps, shook hands with us. We then took
our places at his side, on silver sofas.

  

 
THE PALACE OF OUDEYPOOR. 167

I have already said that the Rana was eighteen or nineteen years old. The
expression of his countenance was pleasing and agreeable, and did not wear that
look of cunning which, in general, characterises his race; his manner was affable,
engaging, and full of dignity. He at once apologised, with the utmost grace, for
not having been able to grant us an immediate audience, and assured us that the
delay was caused entirely by political reasons. He listened with attention to what
I said as to the object of my journey, questioning me minutely about France, and
finished by inviting me to prolong my stay at Oudeypoor. On our rising to take
leave, the Rana himself went through the ceremony of the attar and pan, of which
I have already spoken in my description of the Court of Baroda. He presented
the Resident, my companion, and myself each with a packet of betel leaves, called
bira, and poured a few drops of attar of roses on our handkerchiefs. This
ceremony, which is customary in all Indian Courts on taking leave, possesses here
an important signification. One must be either a prince of high descent, or a
famous warrior, or a distinguished stranger, in order to receive the bira from
the hand of the Maharana of Oudeypoor. I re-entered the carriage with the
political agent, amidst the salaams of the nobles, who had accompanied us to the
entrance-court.

The palace of Oudeypoor is one of the largest, most beautiful, and most
magnificent in all India, entirely covering the crest of a hill of some elevation
running parallel with the lake from east to west. The plateau on which it is
built not being of sufficient extent, the architects enlarged it by constructing, on
one of the slopes of the hill, an immense terrace, supported by three tiers of
arched vaults. This stupendous work is built with such wonderful solidity that
part of the palace is entirely supported by this artificial basis, the rest forming a
vast enclosure in which are situated the barracks and sheds for the elephants.

Two walls completely surround that portion of the palace which was built
between the time of Oumra Sing and that of Sirdar Sing. The principal entrance
is towards the town, and consists of a magnificent marble gate, with three indented
arches, surmounted by a rich cupola; the balconies and domes being profusely but
tastefully ornamented, but remarkable for the absence of idols.

On the other side of this gate is the grand courtyard, enclosed on two sides
by the king’s apartments, and overlooked by galleries on each storey. At every
angle is an octagon tower, surmounted by a cupola. The dazzling whiteness of
the marble of which it is composed, and the grand though simple style of the
architecture, impress one at first sight with the idea of greater height than it
really possesses. At the farther end of the court is the great door leading into
the zenana, or the apartments of the Rana’s wives, which is kept closed and
guarded by sentries. None but the Rana and the members of his family are
permitted to enter this part of the palace. Over the archway a statue of Ganésa,
the God of Wisdom, guards the sacred door.

The interior of the palace is quite in keeping with the grand style of the
exterior, and is well adapted to this tropical climate. Darkened passages,
ascending by an inclined plane from storey to storey, take the place of stairs ;
the well-lighted apartments are fitted with polished marble, which tends to
preserve the freshness of the atmosphere ; and courtyards, fountains, and flowers
meet one at every turn. ‘The grand saloons are hung with drapery 3 luxurious
cushions and carpets cover the floors; and the walls are ornamented with mirrors
168 INDIA.

and frescoes. One of the rooms, decorated in a grotesque and fanciful manner,
would excite the amusement of a European stranger ; yet, in reality, it is scarcely
more ridiculous than the China galleries at Fontainebleau and elsewhere. The
walls of the room are ornamented with European plates, cups, and saucers; the
commonest pottery side by side with the finest Dresden ; Bohemian glass next to
a trumpery salt-cellar. The comparative value of these different objects mattered
little to the Hindoo artist, who, only considering the colours, succeeded, with the
aid of his natural taste, in achieving an effect at once original and harmonious
out of these heterogeneous materials. The frescoes which cover the walls and
ceilings of some of these chambers are of great interest: they comprise the por-
traits of all the Ranas, from Oudey Sing, the founder of Oudeypoor, to Sambhoo
Sing, our contemporary ; and these are followed by the most remarkable scenes in
each reign. Painted with extreme care and delicacy of colouring, these frescoes
are valuable memorials of the history and manners of the tribe of the Sesoudias.

One of the most curious features of the palace of Oudeypoor is, undoubtedly,
its extensive hanging garden. It seems astounding to find trees of a hundred
years’ growth and lovely flower-beds situated at so great a height, and covering
so many roofs of different elevations. In the centre of the garden there is a
fountain, from which avenues paved with white marble diverge in all directions ;
the water being carried off in narrow channels, and lost to sight amidst groves of
pomegranate and orange trees. A marble gallery encircles this enchanting spot,
where the grandees of the Court, reclining on velvet sofas, indulge in pleasant
day-dreams whilst taking their siesta. The view embraces the whole valley ;
and, while gazing on this scene, they can call to mind the great feats of arms of
their ancestors, who defended this country for centuries against the Mussulman
hordes, and converted it into a paradise. When fatigued with the grandeur of
this immense panorama, they can turn and contemplate the fairy scene presented
by the garden.

I retraced my steps and descended to the Khoosh Mahal, the “ Palace of Plea-
sure,” built by the late Rana, Sirdar Sing, as a place in which to receive his
European friends. It contains spacious apartments, furnished with the greatest
luxury, in which dinners and entertainments are given during the visits of
European guests. The choubdar who was my guide directed my attention to the
preparations which were going forward for a banquet to be given in honour of our
arrival. Above these saloons are marble kiosks, from which you can embrace at
a glance the town, the lake, and the mountains which encircle them. These
latter bear the name of Greerwo, or circle; but in reality they form an irregular
ellipsis. The town, situated at the extremity of this ellipsis, is only separated
from the mountains by Lake Peshola. This range is very important in a strate-
gical point of view, as there are but three passes on the east, and these are both
long and narrow, and easy of defence. One of them is at Dobarri, and the others
are at Dailwara and Naen.

On the opposite side of the lake, and facing it, is a palace called the Rosanah,
in which the officers of the Court are lodged. The lake is approached through
charming terraced gardens, which the fancy of each succeeding Rana has decor-
ated with innumerable summer-houses and kiosks, surrounded by fountains half
hidden among the trees. One of these retreats of luxurious indolence is on the
shores of the lake. A thousand columns support the arched roof, which is inlaid
SPORTING EXPEDITION. 169

with mosaics ; and endless fountains playing all around form a transparent veil
of sparkling waters. In the heat of summer the Rana and his Court assemble
here, and pass the most oppressive hours of the day in this marvellous aquatic
retreat. *

On returning to the Residency, Major Nixon informed me that the Maharana
had organised for the next day an expedition to Jugnavas, which was to include
some wild-fowl shooting.

We started very early the next morning, and, driving through the town, em-
barked at the quay of the Tripolia Derwaza; a few moments brought us to the
island of Jugnavas, This island, usually so quiet and deserted, was now the
scene of bustle and excitement; the servants of the Rana ran hither and thither,
landing the provisions from the boats, and arranging everything for our short
stay. The apartments were quickly furnished, awnings and blinds being hung
from the verandahs, and the floors covered with carpets and cushions.

Close at hand, the cooks were busy preparing a substantial breakfast, and the
banghy-coolies arrived with such a profusion of champagne and still hock that I
began to have suspicions that the Rana had some design upon our lives. Nothing
was forgotten. In a kiosk on the water’s edge we found a bevy of young and
laughing girls assembled, their dresses sparkling with jewels. These were the
Nautch girls of the Court, sent here by the Rana to amuse us with their songs
and dancing.

We breakfasted in a saloon, the balconies of which overlooked -the lake, and
passed our siesta on sofas, watching the Nautch girls dancing. What luxury after
our campaign with the Bheels! The Rana did not join us until two o’clock.
We received him at the landing-place of the island, where he arrived with great
pomp, accompanied by the Rao of Baidlah and the Rao of Pursoli. We chatted
together until the preparations for the expedition were completed, when, the
guards and the choubdars with their golden staves forming lines, the procession
advanced, and we embarked with great solemnity in half-a-dozen boats. These
flat-bottomed boats or punts are admirably adapted to these marshes, where the
water is very shallow.

Having crossed the lake, we agreed to follow Doctor Cunningham, the acknow-
ledged Nimrod of Oudeypoor, into a labyrinth of canals, which intersect the great
marsh lying at the foot of the mountains; where we found ourselves in the midst
of reeds and water-plants of a prodigious height, from which, as we advanced, rose
immense flocks of wild-fowl and flamingoes. Shooting soon commenced, and
lasted about an hour. The bag was large, including numbers of snipe and other
game. At four o’clock we left the marsh and betook ourselves to the boats, where
the Rana again went through the ceremony of the pan, and threw round each of
our necks a most lovely garland of roses.

The crocodile found here, as in other inland lakes of India, is a formidable animal.
It attains a great size, and the people who inhabit the shores of the lake occasion-
ally fall victims to its savage attacks. Its short muzzle and triangular-shaped
jaw should class it among the alligators, although this name is rarely given it.
Since the English Residency has been established at Oudeypoor, and the Rana,
overcoming the ridiculous religious prejudices which protect these reptiles, has
allowed Europeans to hunt them down, these formidable animals have abandoned
the neighbourhood of the town, and have taken refuge on the opposite banks.
170 INDIA.
Pitilessly pursued into their retreats, they have become very wary. AS soon as a
boat appears upon the lake, they dive to the bottom, and, on rising again, only
show the tips of their muzzles above the surface. That, however, is sufficient for
the hunter, and our rifle-balls soon found them out under water. <A. violent com-
motion immediately ensued, which, with the blood-stained water, was the only
visible result of the encounter, as the alligator, when killed, sinks at once to the
bottom. They are sometimes, however, surprised while asleep on the rocks at too
great a distance from the water to allow them to reach their favourite element
before dying.

Few lakes are as plentifully supplied with fish as this one. There are a
number of different kinds, some of which are excellent eating.

We returned to our enchanting island, where we were greeted by the songs of
the Nautch girls. After dinner we re-embarked and sailed for hours about the
lake. The moon rose, flooding with her soft light the cupolas of the palace; and
the water scintillated in her rays, while the notes of the Taza-bi-Tza,* sung by
the Nautch girls, were wafted to us by the soft night air.

We were at length, however, forced to depart, and mounting our elephants,
which awaited us at the Tripolia, we returned to the Residency; and thus con-
cluded, as we all agreed, the happiest day of our life in India. The Rana was
right; he had already nearly effaced the remembrance of our friend Khunderao’s
liberal hospitality.

This day at Jugnavas was but the beginning of a long series of pleasure-
parties, which continued without interruption until the 17th of January. Nothing
was better calculated to distract our thoughts from the long journey before us to
Jugpore, our next halting-place. However, resolving to tear myself away from
this life of enervating ease, I informed Major Nixon of my intention to leave on
the 2oth.

An occasion was immediately found to detain us. It was nothing less than
the grand battue which the Rana holds annually in the Aravalis; and Major
Nixon gave me such a description of this hunt, and of the magnitude of the scale
on which it was conducted, that my departure was at once deferred. Besides
which, there was nothing to hurry me. I had made up my mind not to follow
the example of those travellers who traverse a country ata gallop, as if goaded on
by some invisible spur. Always in a hurry, they see nothing; and, on arriving
at the end of their journey, they in vain ask themselves the cause of their needless
precipitation. If three years did not suffice to show me India, I would devote
four to it, or even five; but I would see something.

On the morning of the 18th, the vicinity of the Residency bore the animated
appearance which invariably prefaces the departure of any potentate in the East.
Major Nixon, who took with him his whole domestic establishment, several
elephants, and a great’ number of camels, was there, making arrangements for
tents, baggage, and provisions. An excursion of pleasure in this country is no
trifling matter. Luxury is an indispensable accompaniment ; and for a fortnight’s
hunting expedition the Resident required a complete establishment—tables, sofas,
arm-chairs, beds, sideboards, and plate. It would have been derogatory to the
dignity of his high position if he had had one arm-chair or carpet the less in his
camp bedroom than at Oudeypoor. This maxim is carried so far that, on entering

* Favourite Nautch girls’ song.
ARTIFICIAL LAKES. 171

a tent, you see whatnots covered with ornaments, books lying on the tables, and
the khanats hung with pictures, exactly as in permanent dwellings.

The Court was not to join us until the following day. Major Nixon, Doctor
Cunningham, Schaumburg, and I, wére to pass the night in a house on the other
side of the Geerwo Mountains, and to reach Nahrmugra, the general rendezvous,
on the morrow.

The roads through the valley are very good. They have been for the most
part constructed by an English engineer in the service of the prince. They
possess, however, the great drawback of being dreadfully hilly.

Before threading the pass, which would conduct us into the plains of Meywar,
Major Nixon induced us to visit the lake of Oudeysagur, which lies towards the
extremity of the Geerwo Mountains, opposite to Oudeypoor. It is a beautiful
sheet of water, shut in by forests; and the peaks of the Aravalis, surrounding it
on three sides, contribute to the wildness of the aspect. Like Peshola, this lake
has been artifically formed by means of a dam thrown across the river Bunas, an
insignificant stream, which is thus made to feed two of the most beautiful lakes
in India, situated within a few miles of each other. The embankments of the
lakes Oudeysagur and Peshola may be classed among the great works of art
executed by the Rajpoots.

These artificial lakes have other uses besides that of gratifying the vanity of
sovereigns. The whole of Rajpootana abounds with them, and owes to them its
fertility. The water, thus retained at a far higher level than the surrounding
country, diffuses during the heats of summer a grateful moisture, and supplies
the cisterns of the neighbouring villages. Should the dams which form these
lakes be destroyed, the rivers which feed them would become, as formerly, furious
torrents in the rainy season, and dry ravines during the rest of the year; and
these now fertile plains would, in the course of a few years, become a desert. The
different races which have succeeded each other in this country, and in general
throughout Central India, have, from the remotest antiquity, always appreciated
the importance of these artificial lakes. They accumulate the water everywhere
by means of gigantic embankments, in order to be able to direct it wherever most
needed. Two or three of these works date back a thousand years, and still
astonish the traveller by their magnitude.

We resumed our journey, and reached by a steep ascent the entrance to the
pass of Dobarri. High walls of rock shut us in on either side, leaving only space
for the narrowest of paths. The situation is calculated to impress, with its wild
grandeur, any one who, for the first time, sets foot in the happy valley. The most
profound silence reigns in these intricate gorges ; the loopholed walls which
surround them, crowning every precipice, prevent all animals from gaining access
to them. At the narrowest part of the defile there is a fortified gate, defended by
bastions and protected by ramparts, which extend up the hill on either side. A
guard stationed near the gate permits no one to pass, whoever he may be, without
a previous explanation. Not far from here are a temple and cistern, where the
pilgrims rest. .

When we passed through the gate, the fertile plains of Meywar came into
view; and in the distance were the mountains of Chittore, the ancient city of the
Ranas. It was from this point that, according to tradition, Pertab Sing, con-
templating the kingdom of his fathers, swore vengeance against the invaders.
172 INDIA.

Deposed by the emperors of Delhi, nothing was left him but the territory com-
prised within the semicircle of the Geerwo Mountains; nevertheless, refusing all
advances from the Moguls, who offered him numberless honours as the price of
his submission, he waged implacable war against them. With the handful of
nobles who remained faithful to him, and the help of the wild Bheels, he sustained
at the pass of Dobarri the shock of ‘the imperial forces, and, by dint of heroic
perseverance, succeeded in reconquering by degrees the whole of Meywar. Few
nations possess a history so full of heroic deeds and patriotic sentiments as that
of the Rajpoots of Meywar. These alone, among all the Indian tribes, refused to
bend the knee before the Mussulman, and, in spite of the most horrible persecu-
tions, succeeded in proudly maintaining their independence.

The scene which surrounded us lent a thrilling interest to Major Nixon’s
narrative. Our Rajpoot escort seemed to ride with a prouder air as they trod the
soil rendered so illustrious by the blood of their ancestors ; and I myself experienced
the emotion which the recollection of great deeds always inspires. We were all
aroused from this romantic reverie by the sight of the Bungalow of Dubok, where
our servants had already arrived, and where a good dinner awaited us. Dubok is
a little village situated at the southern point of the Nakrmugra range, and a few
miles distant from our hunting-ground ; and there we passed the night.

On the morning of the 19th our people struck the camp, and directed their
course towards the village of Nahrmugra. We, on the contrary, instead of follow-
ing the regular route, preferred skirting the plateau of the mountain, in order to
acquaint ourselves with the nature of the country in which we were to hunt on
the following days. The Nahrmugra Mountains form a little chain, running for’
seven or eight miles parallel to the eastern range of the Geerwo ; from which they
are separated by a valley of some size, with here and there an isolated plateau..
Numberless spurs, running out from the side of the mountains, form an inextricable
network of ravines ; the sides of which are entirely covered with a thick under-
wood of thorny dwarf acacias, the Acacia detinens, called by the English “ Wait-a-
bit.” This shrub, which rarely attains any great height, bears in great abundance
a yellow berry, of which the wild boars are very fond. Immense herds of these
animals infest this jungle, and are protected by royal edicts of the most severe
nature. No one, without the permission of the king, can even fire a gun in the
neighbourhood, still less hunt there. Thus, while traversing the jungle, we saw
troops of wild boars disappearing in all directions. The village of Nahrmugra is
at the northern extremity of the chain. A beautiful palace, the domes and towers
of which appeared above the trees, is occupied by the Rana during the hunting-
season.

On our arrival we found the hunting-camp ready in every respect; our tents
were pitched near the palace, and covered an immense area. On the other side
of a small ravine were the coloured tents of the Rana’s suite, the enclosures for
the elephants, and the camps of the cavalry and some infantry. More than three
thousand people were assembled in this place, usually so deserted; where, in
spite of the deafening noise which rose from the camp, the most perfect order
appeared to reign. Rajpoot etiquette was as scrupulously attended to here as at
Court. A deputation of nobles received us ceremoniously in the name of the
Rana, and gave us the programme of the entertainments which were to take
place during our fortnight’s stay. With considerate attention the dancers were
A ROYAL HUNTING-PARTY. 173

ordered to encamp near the tents of the Sahibs. The Rana arrived during the
evening, and we went to receive him at the palace. He insisted on our seeing
every part of his residence, which was arranged with simplicity and good taste.

At midday on the 20th, the preliminaries of the great annual hunt began.
The Rana, seated on his hunting-elephant, issued from his palace, surrounded by
a cortége of minstrels reciting hymns appropriate to the occasion, and waving
great palm-branches decorated with roses. The master of the hunt, Maharaj
Singjee, mounted on a. richly caparisoned camel, marched in the midst of his
huntsmen; the guests and nobles followed, each mounted on an elephant; and a
numerous escort of mounted Rajpoots brought up the rear. The procession
advanced slowly across the plain, closely surrounded on all sides by crowds of
country people come to witness the sport. When we had left the village about a
league behind us, the Rana selected those who were to have the honour of hunt-
ing with him. These were only Major Nixon, Dr. Cunningham, Schaumburg,
myself, and the two Raos of Baidlah and Pursoli. The rest had to content
themselves with looking on. The preparations thus ended, the hunt began. The
beaters spread themselves over the plain, and headed and turned a herd of wild
boars, which crossed the line of elephants. Four were left dead upon the field,
when the sport was considered sufficient for the first day. The procession was
reformed, and returned to the camp in the same order as it went out. At the
gate of the palace the Nautch girls, attired in their richest apparel, met us, like
the daughters of Israel of old, and congratulated us upon our success.

The four following days were devoted to hunting in the plain, in order to
drive the game towards the mountains. Nothing could look more picturesque
than the long line of elephants stretching through the valley. These huge
animals rise above the low jungle like towers, and with a firm and silent tread
advance into the midst of the thorny underwood. The most interesting part of
these expeditions, and that which most displays the extraordinary sagacity of the
hunting-elephants, is the pursuit of the wounded animals. The wild boars cross
the line of hunters in herds; and, when wounded, they immediately detach
themselves from the rest of the herd and bury themselves in the brushwood. As
a wounded animal always belongs by right to him by whose ball he was first
struck, the hunter has to separate himself from the other sportsmen, and start in
pursuit of his game. The elephant on which the hunter is mounted must now
serve him instead of a hound. He follows indefatigably the track of the wild
boar from point to point; and his unshod feet tread the earth so noiselessly that
he passes close to the most timid animals without disturbing them. Following,
on an elephant, the track of a wounded animal, I have often seen groups of deer
a few paces off, which continued peacefully to browse in spite of our presence.
When the trail ceases, the elephant is stopped; and one often has to look about
for some time before discovering the unfortunate boar, breathless and exhausted,
crouching: beneath a thicket. A rifle-ball puts an end to its suffering.

On the 21st the shikaris informed us that we could now commence the
hankwa, a word which means a “drive” in the mountains. According to their
report, the game, scared by our shooting of the last few days, had taken refuge in
considerable numbers among the wooded gorges. The plan of the hunt was
immediately drawn up. We were to commence at the southern end cf the
range, and proceed thus from ravine to ravine as far as the defile which over-
oe INDIA.

looks the rendezvous of Nahrmugra, where the last and great battue was to take
place.
On the morning of the 25th, the hunting party returned as far as Dubok ;
whence we proceeded to the houdi, from which we were to take part in the hunt.
The name “houdi” is applied to small embattled forts, built as hiding-places
for the hunters. They are generally placed at the entrance to a ravine, in order
that the guns of the sportsmen may command the entire gorge. One was comfort-
ably installed there; sofas having been prepared for the Rana and his guests,
and refreshments, such as beer, champagne, iced lemonade, &c., not forgotten.
Shooting from a “houdi” therefore is the least fatiguing way imaginable of
enjoying sport. Behind each sportsman are stationed two shikaris, who preside
over a regular battery of guns; one of them is occupied in loading, while the
other passes the guns to the hunter as fast as he requires them, relieving him of
those which he has already discharged.

The houdi of Dubok occupies a charming position. Shaded by a group of
trees, on the edge of a deep ravine, it commands an extensive view of the plain
and the Aravalis. The beaters who had preceded us, had ranged themselves on
the heights of the mountains in large numbers, leaving to the denizens of the
forest no other way of escape than that commanded by our guns, A great
hubbub was soon heard in the distance; a clamorous sound of gongs, trumpets,
and tom-toms rose from the depths of the jungle. In a few moments a loud
crashing was heard among the brushwood, and the first herd of about twenty
wild hogs rushed bewildered into the ravine. The effects of our fire were
apparent directly they came within range. A few fell dead on the spot; some
regained the mountains, while others, with more sense, continued their course,
and were lost to sight on the plain. At the end of a quarter of an hour the con-
fusion had become indescribable. The wild boars were crowded by hundreds in
the ravine, and the fire from the houdi thundered uninterruptedly. Jackals and
hyznas mingled promiscuously with the boars, the shooters occasionally bringing
down one of them, as they rushed past, maddened by terror. One panther, with
more caution, attempted to scale the rocks, and thus avoid the houdi; but the
stratagem did not succeed ; and it rolled, pierced with balls, to the bottom of the
ravine, amid the joyful acclamations of the Rajpoots.

At length the beaters returned, and the hunt was over. We descended into
the nullah to count the killed and examine our game. The sight that met our
eyes was indeed frightful; the animals lay one upon the other in hideous disorder.
More than twenty wild boars, about fifteen jackals, hyzenas, and jungle-dogs, and
one panther, were the result of an hour and a half of hankwa. Of all these
victims, the wild dogs interested me the most, as I had often heard of them, but
till then had never seen one. This animal is of the same size as the jackal, which
it greatly resembles about the head; but its fur is shorter and of a pale-red
colour, and the tail is smooth. They collect in large packs, and pursue antelopes
and deer, which fall an easy prey to their cunning and agility; but they never
attack a man. They are not known ever to have been tamed, not even when
taken quite young.

The beaters constructed litters, on which the dead animals were piled up, and
our party re-entered Nahrmugra in triumph. To celebrate this day, the Rana in
the evening gave us a grand dinner at the palace. The entertainment was pro-
SPORT IN THE ARAVALIS. 175

longed far into the night, and we failed not to do honour to the royal champagne.
The Nautch girls and minstrels wiled away the long hours with their songs and
dances; and we afforded them, I think, equal amusement by singing “God save
the Queen” and the “ Marseillaise.” »

In my conversations with the Maharana I learnt several curious particulars

 

THE MAHARANA AND THE BRITISH POLITICAL AGENT AT THE HUNT,

concerning the fauna of the country. Being passionately fond of hunting, he had
carefully studied the habits of the animals with which his forest abounded, and
appeared to possess great knowledge of them. On my expressing my surprise
at the absence of tigers in the recent hunt, he replied that this, far from being
unusual, was generally the case in those districts which were much infested by
176 INDIA.

wild boars, as these animals, collecting in great numbers, always attacked the
tigers, when they trespassed on their domain, and succeeded in expelling and even
in killing them. As I appeared to doubt the possibility of such a feat on the
part of animals possessing such slender means of attack, he promised that I should
myself witness one of these combats, and thus prove the truth of his statement.

Our camp life at Nahrmugra was one continued series of amusements; and,
to give you an idea of it, I will take one day, selected at random, and describe it
to you.

Our sleeping-tents were placed in a circle round two pavilion-tents, surrounded
by verandahs, and luxuriously furnished. Of these one was the dining-room, the
other the sitting-room or réunion tent. At six o'clock in the morning I was
roused by the servant bringing me a glass of sherry. Jumping out of my charpoy
with silver feet, I pulled off my clothes, and, donning a simple janghir or close-
fitting drawers, issued from my tent. I then took my place on a little heap of
straw, and, on looking round, saw each of my companions in front of his tent in
the same position and costume as myself. The bhistees arrived with their
mussucks, and doused us vigorously with cold water. In a few moments more we
were all assembled, in a more suitable dress, round the table in the mess tent,
busily employed in discussing a plentiful chota hazzee, or early breakfast. After
a pleasant chat, whilst smoking some excellent Manilla cheroots, we mounted our
horses and went to explore the surrounding country, shooting a few wild-fowl on
the neighbouring lake. At eleven o'clock the process of dressing was again gone
through, and a second breakfast served; with regard to which the only thing
worth mentioning was the arrival of the Rana’s messengers, who every morning
brought us a repast. A long file of servants, bearing dishes laden with a variety
of meats, were preceded by two attendants with gilt canes. These dishes consisted
of roasted meats, haunches of wild boar, breast of kid, and strongly flavoured
ragotits and curries; some of them, however, would do credit to the tables of our
European grandees. About a dozen plates were filled with pickles of all kinds,
roasted berries, and sweetmeats. We merely went through the form of tasting
this huge breakfast, which served to regale our attendants, as we preferred the
excellent cuisine of the Burra Sahib and the Moselle from the royal cellars. The
middle of the day was set apart for the “hankwa.” At four o'clock, after
refreshing myself with a second bath, which effectually dispelled the fatigue of the
hunt, I received visits from the Hindoo nobles, who chatted pleasantly on all
kinds of subjects. The dinner, as is usual in India, lasted till late; and we were
entertained up to midnight by the Nautch girls, jugglers, and fireworks.

On the 30th we hunted for the last time, and in the evening there was a
grand entertainment at the palace, to celebrate the closing day of the hunt at
Nahrmugra. The next day we returned to Oudeypoor, to which place the com-
mencement of the “Holi” recalled us; and we entered the Residency amidst
salvos of artillery.
CHAPTER XV.
FESTIVITIES AT OUDEYPOOR.

Ahar.—The Maha Sati.—Festivities of the Holi—The Durbar.—The Khoosh Mahal.—Fight
between a Panther and a Wild Boar.—The Festival of Gouri.—A Bear Hunt.

HE ancient city of Ahar is situated nearly in the centre of the
circle of mountains which form the valley of Oudeypoor ; and
near it is situate the Maha Sati, famous throughout Rajesthan
as the royal cemetery of the Ranas. The morning after our
return to the Residency being cool and pleasant, I repaired
thither with Captain Taylor. The road skirts the little river,

which is fed by the surplus waters of Lake Peshola, sometimes descending into

its very bed, strewn with huge boulders, and sometimes winding along the edge of
its steep banks. A few miles from the town a pretty Hindoo bridge with pointed
arches spans the nullah; and the road is lost to sight in a wood, which extends
to the outskirts of Ahar. One or two Jain temples, in the midst of a scattered
village of about thirty huts, are all that now remain of the capital of the Touar
king. Under this dynasty Ahar went by the name of Tamba Nagari, and its
foundation dates back several centuries before the Christian era. In the first
century of the Samwat era the great Touar king, Vikramaditya, transferred
the seat of government from this city to the ancient Avanti, now called Oujein.

Several centuries later, the Ghelote Asa Ditya founded a town, called Anandpoor,

on the ruins of Tamba Nagari, which likewise lost its importance when the

successors of Bappa established themselves at Chittore. It is not known at what
epoch the town of Anandpoor was first called Ahar, or Ar, by which name it is
now known.

Near the village is a sand-hill of considerable elevation, which bears the name
of Dholi-Koti, the “Fort of Cinders.” According to tradition, this was the site
of the fortress of the Touars, which was buried beneath a cloud of ashes. There
is nothing to make one believe in the possibility of this volcanic phenomenon ; but
it is very probable that this artificial mound covers the ruins of some ancient
edifice, which had been buried by the shifting sand. It would be very interesting
to excavate it, but the local superstition has hitherto kept it sacred.

The only important remains of ancient Tamba are the numerous bas-reliefs
and other sculptures which are formed on the walls and terraces of the Jain
temples. These temples are themselves of great antiquity, and appear to have
been rebuilt on the sites and with the ruins of the ancient sanctuaries.

One portion of the site of the ancient city is covered by the Cemetery of
_  oM

 
178 INDIA.
Maha Sati, a word signifying “the great sacrifice of Suttee.” Here are collected
the mausoleums of all the Ranas, since Oudey Sing first established himself in the
yalley ; several monuments of the ancient kings of Anandpoor, still standing near

Af

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THE MAHA SATI, AT AHAR, NEAR OUDEYPOOR.

 

aa SP ot, having seemingly prompted the choice of the Ranas. This field of the
dead is also reserved for the ashes of princes and their connections and the ae
nobles: it is now a picturesque necropolis, rich in monuments of the past.
THE FIELD OF MAHA SATI. 179

These tombs are placed side by side in an immense enclosure, and are of
various dimensions, from the chatri, with four columns, to the magnificent mahal ;
but they are all built on the same pape though they vary greatly in arrange-

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TOMB OF SANGRAM SING, AT AHAR, NEAR OUDEYPOOR.

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ment and detail. Each consists of an elegant dome supported by graceful
columns, which form a circular pavilion, and is placed on a terrace of some height,
and reached by a broad flight of steps; the entire edifice, terrace, stairs, columns,
180 INDIA.

and domes, being of the beautiful white marble from the quarries of Kankraoli.
These monuments are built in the Jain style of architecture; and, though com-
paratively modern, it would be difficult to find finer specimens of Vedyavan art.
These, like all Jain domes, are built in horizontal layers one-upon another, and
rest upon that combination of pillars and architraves which the native architects
were the first to employ. The columns are simple and graceful in style,
and, contrary to the usual Hindoo custom, but slightly ornamented; one rarely
sees more than a beading, with a few bells and chains in relief. As regards
architectural order, these mausoleums bear a striking resemblance to the celebrated
tombs of Halicarnassus.

Among the innumerable monuments which cover the Field of Maha Sati,
three are of gigantic proportions, 7.e. those of Oumra Sing and of Sangram Sing,
The two mausoleums in honour of the latter prince face each other, and are reared
on colossal marble terraces. Their grandeur is imposing; and it is impossible to
imagine anything more striking than these two huge structures of white marble,
crowned with two domes gracefully resting upon an attic of sculptured pilasters.
The estimate made at the time they were built shows us that their cost was more
than forty lacs of rupees, which is equivalent to four hundred thousand pounds.
Beside these wonderful edifices lie a few roughly hewn blocks of stone, raised by
the ungrateful successors of Juggut Sing over the ashes of that king, who
endowed Oudeypoor with so many monuments, amongst which may be reckoned
the fairy-like islands of Jugnavas and Jugmunder.

Nothing could be more romantic than to wander, on a lovely morning of an
Indian spring, through this labyrinth of tombs and verdure. And yet what
horrible memories hover over the Field of Immolation! Not one of these build-
ings but was the scene of a bloody sacrifice, and is the memorial of a barbarous
custom.

Mount the broad stairs which lead to the nearest mausoleum. In the centre
of the chamber stands a high block of marble, resembling an altar; and figures
of women in bas-relief surround the pedestal. It is a record of the number of
victims immolated at the sacrifice of Suttee.

Every one has heard of the Indian custom of Suttee, which formerly obliged
a woman to be burnt alive with the dead body of her husband. By what fatal
chance could so barbarous a custom have become implanted in such a humane
religion as that of the Vedas, and among so gentle and tolerant a people? The
Brahmins derive its origin from the sacrifice of Sati, the wife of Siva, who burned
herself alive to avenge an insult offered to her husband by her father Daksha.
It would thus seem to have been borrowed from the religion of the Tantras. Be
that as it may, the Rajpoots adopted and zealously adhered to the law of Suttee,
and it required the whole energy of the English Government to abolish it. It
was considered a disgrace for a Rana to leave this world without a numerous
train of victims: the greater the number, the more honoured was his memory
among his successors. To this day the Rajpoot proudly calls the attention of
the European visitor to the fact that five-and-twenty women were burnt on the
funeral pile of the Rana Sangram Sing.

Thus these grand and romantic monuments serve but to commemorate the
most hideous sacrifices. During the narrative of the Sesoudia who accompanied
us, I pictured to myself the scene in all its terrible reality. The splendid pro-
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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182 INDIA.

mad with terror or fanaticism, arrange themselves in a circle round it, the favourite
wife being privileged to support the head on her knees. The flames creep up
gradually, and through the smoke one can see the group of wretched women.
The chanting of the priests and the clashing of the cymbals drown their cries;
and soon nothing is left of so much life and beauty but a mass of smouldering

To distract us from these dismal thoughts, our guide informed us _ that
the Rajpoot carnival had commenced some days since. We had, it appears,
to congratulate ‘ourselves on being at Oudeypoor during the festival of the
Holi, as it was in no other town of Rajpootana celebrated with so much
splendour.

The festival of Holi marks the arrival of Spring, and is held in honour of the
goddess Holica, or Vassanti, who personifies that season in the Hindoo Pantheon.
The carnival lasts several days, during which time the most licentious debauchery
and disorder reign throughout every class of society. It is the regular Saturnalia
of India. Persons of the greatest respectability, without regard to rank or age,
are not ashamed to take part in the orgies which mark this season of the year.
The festivities do not become really uproarious until the last two days; but from
the very beginning effigies of the most revolting indecency are set up at the gates
of the town and in the principal thoroughfares. Women and children crowd
round the hideous idols of the feast of Holica and deck them with flowers; and
then immorality reigns supreme in the streets of the capital.

The opening scene of these festivities is the Royal Hunt, in which I had taken
part. The date of its commencement is fixed by the astrologers, and is called
Ahairea, or Mahourut-ka-Shikar ; that is, the declaration of war against the wild
boar, which is the inveterate enemy of Gouri, the Hindoo Ceres. It is interesting
to note that both the Egyptians and Greeks considered the wild boar as the enemy
of Isis and Ceres.

On returning from the Ahairea, the Rana leaves his palace in great pomp,
followed by an aswari, or sowari, and repairs to the temple to worship Sourya, the
Hindoo Pheebus. The Rajpoots have retained a veneration for the Sun, their
ancestor, which ill accords with the Saiva dogmas now professed by them, which
consign Sourya to a secondary place in their worship. He is held in special
honour at Oudeypoor. The principal gate of the town is called the Souradjpol;
the king’s palace is the Sourya Mahal; and the Rana himself, the “Sun” of the
Hindoos, shows himself to the people, on grand occasions, from the top of the
Sourya Gokra, or “balcony of the Sun.” Great respect is also paid to the horse,
as the emblem of the sun; and the first day of the week is dedicated to him
under the name of Adit, or Aitwara.

Towards the middle of the month of Thalgun, the revels reach their climax.
Troops of men and women, wreathed with flowers, and drunk with bang, crowd the
streets, carrying sacks full of a bright red vegetable powder. With this they
assail the passers-by, covering them with clouds of dust, which soon dyes their
clothes a startling colour. Groups of people stationed at the windows retaliate
with the same projectiles, or squirt with wooden syringes red and yellow streams
of water into the streets below. No one is spared, not even the richly dressed
courtier, or the phlegmatic European, who finds himself in the crowd. And yet
none complain, though in a country where the grades of society are so rigidly
THE FESTIVAL OF HOLI. 183

defined, and the pride of the nobles is carried to such a pitch. All recognise the
license of the season, and the most cheerful good humour is always maintained.
But this powder is not their only weapon. They keep up a running fire of jests
and repartee; and, though actual fbuse is never resorted to, no dignitary who
ventures into the streets is allowed to escape without a shower of cutting remarks,
to which he retorts with ironical menaces.

The palace is by no means the least noisy part of the town. The king and the
nobles throw off all restraint, and give themselves up to mirth and revelry; and
even from the Residency we can see a purple cloud rising above the royal abode.
One of the prettiest sights during these festivities is a kind-of mimic tournament
held by the nobles on the great terrace; when, armed with little vessels of tale
filled with red powder, they commence a sham fight, by dexterously flinging
these light projectiles at each other, which on breaking cover them with the
powder.

The elephants also take their part in the sport, and appear to find great pleasure
in covering each other with powder. After this game has lasted a few days,
the houses, trees, men, women, and children are all dyed the same uniform
colour.

The Nautch girls enjoy unbounded liberty during this carnival. They have
special dances for the occasion, when all propriety is forgotten; and the couplets
which they recite during the dance are most unseemly, and always allude to the
people present.

During the festival of the Holi, the Bheel tribes assemble from all parts of
the mountain to keep their carnival at the village of Ahar. They choose this
place for a general rendezvous in memory of their ancestors, who, according to
tradition, inhabited a city which once flourished on the site of this village and was
the capital of their empire.

Major Nixon advised me to go and see these wild sports. On entering Ahar,
I found the village filled with a yelling crowd, who were pressing round the sheds
where mhowah spirit was served out to them. Men, women, and children, crowned
with flowers, appeared completely intoxicated. Never have I witnessed so revolting
a spectacle. Groups of naked wretches, dead drunk, were wallowing in the gutters,
and at every step the most disgusting debauchery was exhibited with unblushing
effrontery. The Mahi Sati was invaded by them, and the crowd overran the
marble palaces with riotous uproar. We could not even walk out with safety, as
the infuriated state of these wretches, excited with drink, resulted in frequent
broils.

The festival of the Holi terminates on the last day of Gounum. In the
morning the chieftains and their vassals assemble in the great courtyard at the
beating of the Nigaras, or grand state drums of the Tripolia. The Rana leaves the
palace with them, and repairs to the Chougan, a large pavilion erected on a high
hill, the stone roof of which is entirely supported by columns, without any walls ;
and there, surrounded by his Court, the prince listens to the songs in honour of
Holica. Occasionally a vulgar jest from the crowd reminds him that even his
rank cannot protect him from the license of the Wassant Pachami. The festivities
finish with the lighting of bonfires in all parts of the town, in which the idolatrous
effigies are burnt, and around which the common people dance wildly all through

the night.
oi INDIA.

The following morning, the 1st of Cheyt, every Hindoo bathes, says his
prayers, changes his garments, and once more becomes a peaceful citizen.

On the 3rd of the month, the standards and the royal insignia are sent to
Baidlah, according to ancient custom, to escort the Rao, one of the sixteen Omras,
to the palace. The Rana receives him in person at the Tripolia; and, after
embracing, they enter the audience-chamber together, the Rao’s hand placed in
that of the Rana.

In the beginning of the same month, the Maharana convokes a solemn
assembly, or Durbar, of all the chief nobles of the kingdom. This is the closing
scene of the festivities of the Holi; and then commences the season to be devoted
to the serious affairs of State.

The Durbar is held on the great terrace of the palace, in front of the zenana.
In this immense space all the nobility of Meywar assembles on the occasion.
From early morn the place is thronged with a picturesque crowd of courtiers in
gay costumes, and elephants with gold and silver trappings) A semicircle of
about forty sofas is formed, with the bright blue sky as their only canopy ; and
the nobles take their places, surrounded with banners and escorted by their
attendants.

The Rana, resplendent with jewels and diamonds, soon arrives, accompanied
by the English Political Agent, and takes his place on the throne. He seats
himself, Indian-fashion, on the velvet cushion, leaning on a shield of rhinoceros
hide, as transparent as amber; his tulwar, enriched with precious stones, lies
across his knees; his feet, also covered with jewels, are bare, and his sandals are
placed by his side on a silver footstool. Major Nixon and the attachés are seated
at his right hand, while the Rao of Baidlah occupies the first place on his left;
then come the Omras, or great vassals of the crown, the ministers of state, and
the vukeels of foreign powers. At either extremity of this long line is a row of
seats, placed at right angles to it, for the Thakours, or feudal lords of Meywar.
All these men are dressed in their richest apparel; costly brocades, Thibet shawls,
hereditary jewels, and weapons of priceless value. The turbans which distinguish
the different clans are of various forms, from the heavy-looking cone of the Haras
to the graceful muslin turban, enriched with strings of diamonds, worn by the
nobles of the Court. Behind the prince stand the servants of the royal household,
chamberlains, pages, and confidential attendants; and in the front row Maharaj
Singji, the prince’s chief huntsman, may be distinguished by his lofty stature and
white beard. Over the throne waves the standard of the Sesoudias—the Meywar
Sun; and between two attendants in the background are the Rana’s two riding-
elephants.

If one compares the antiquity and the illustrious origin of the dynasties
which have reigned, and still reign, over the different kingdoms of Rajesthan,
with those of the greatest countries of Europe, it is easy to perceive that on these
points the superiority undoubtedly rests with the Rajpoots. Before the beginning
of our era, masters of an immense territory, we see them still reigning over vast
and rich countries, with cities embellished with magnificent monuments, while
some European nations are still in their infancy. The powerful Jehanghir, the
Mogul Emperor, was, like Cesar, a commentator on the history of the tribe of the
Sesoudias. The supreme head of the twenty-two satrapies of India expatiates
with pride on the treaty which he concluded with the Rajpoot king. He thanks
THE DURBAR. 185

Heaven for having reserved for him the success “which neither his immortal
ancestor Baber, the founder of the Mogul dynasty, nor Houmayoun had been able
to obtain, and which even his father, the illustrious Akbar, had but partially
achieved.” * ad

The poorest Rajpoot of our day can, thanks to the genealogy of his tribe,
trace back his descent for more than fifteen centuries; and how proudly does
he dwell on the purity of his lineage, unstained by any alliance with the
Moguls !

The sixteen Omras, who surround the Maharana, represent that handful of
heroes who valiantly sustained for a whole century the flag of independence,
without succumbing to the frequent calamities which befell them, or being
seduced by the brilliant offers of the emperors. In spite of the comparatively
degraded condition to which constant revolutions have reduced them, they still
possess the noble features, the lofty bearing, and something of that adventurous
nature which distinguished their fathers.

All the Rajpoot nobles have their respective colours and coats-of-arms, which
show that they possess some knowledge of heraldry ; and most of the tribes bear
names derived from the emblems which are emblazoned on their banners: for
example, the Kutchwas, or tortoises; the Sesoudias, or hares; the Chandawats, or
moons. This custom, therefore, is of great antiquity, and cannot possibly have
been imported from Europe, as some suppose. ‘Tod assures us that traces have
been found of the use of firearms in India at a date prior to the Trojan war. In
the Mahabarata, the hero Bhasama is represented as glorying in having carried
off the banner of Ardjouna, of which the device was a Hanouman, or monkey ;
and in the Hindoo romances of chivalry the knights are always distinguished, as
they are in our own day, by the colour of their scarves and the symbols and
devices engraved on their shields.

The royal banquets are always given in the Khoosh Mahal, we. “Palace of
Pleasure,” a most graceful edifice crowning the hill. ‘The tables are spread in an
immense saloon, richly but simply decorated, the vaulted roof of which rests upon
indented arches, supported by columns of white marble, and which is brilliantly
illuminated by crystal chandeliers whose lights are reflected by a thousand
mirrors, Indian carpets covering the tesselated pavement. The dinner itself,
which comes from the kitchens of the Residency, naturally is quite in the
European style; and the wine, which comes from the royal cellars, is first
rate.

The Rana receives his guests, but only waits till they are all seated at the
table, when he retires; considering that, his religion forbidding him to take part
in our repast, his presence as a spectator would be a restraint upon his guests.
He returns with the principal Raos when the dessert is served, and graciously
accepts the silver cup of champagne, which the Resident offers him. Numerous
toasts soon remove all constraint, and Rajpoots and Europeans vie with each
other in doing honour to the wines of the West and to the Manilla and Havannah
cigars.

The inevitable Nautch girls soon make their appearance, as no entertainment
here can be given without them. Taking advantage of the conviviality of their

“#6 Annals of Rajesthan,” vol. i. p. 136.
186 INDIA.

superiors, they boldly take part in the conversation, and intersperse their dances
with pleasantry, which is much relished by the courtiers. Towards midnight the
Rana rises and dismisses his guests, after throwing garlands of flowers round their
necks.

We generally began the day with an excursion to one of the numberless
summer palaces which have been erected by the different Ranas in the neigh-
bourhood of the capital, and closed it with either a hunt or a trip on the
lake.

I shall never forget the charming day that we spent at one of these residences.
It was at “Gordun Bulas,” or “Delights of Gordun,” situated among the woods
which clothe the shores of Lake Peshola. We embarked from the ghats of the
Tripolia at an early hour in the morning, as we had to traverse the whole length
of the lake. Nothing could be more lovely than the lake at that early hour,
when it was partially buried in the deep shade thrown by the surrounding hills ;
and, as our bark glided noiselessly along in the midst of this enchanting scene,
we gratefully inhaled the fresh air, still laden with the scents of night. A light
cloud of vapour hung over the town; the peaks of the pagodas and the marble
domes which crown the heights were bathed in a flood of rosy light; the islands,
with their terraces and gardens, were reflected in the deep and placid waters; and
here and there groups of Hindoos in gaudy costumes were collected on the steps
of the ghats. Gradually, however, the scene changed. A dense jungle extended
to the very foot of the ramparts, which stretched from the summit of Eklingurh
down to the bed of the lake. It was a singular sight, and reminded one of a
transition scene at a theatre. On one side lay a populous city; on the other, a
forest overhanging a marsh infested by crocodiles, where the tiger comes to quench
his thirst.

We presently landed in a little lonely creek, whence we had a view of the
entire panorama of Oudeypoor and the lake.

We mounted the elephants which awaited us, and a few minutes’ ride through
the forest brought us to the portico of the Gordun Bulas, where we were received
by Maharaj Singji

My stay at the Court of the Ranas had accustomed me to the sight of
beautiful objects; but I must confess that the first sight of this miniature palace
took me by surprise. It was a perfect gem: shady courts, enlivened by fountains
playing amongst beds of flowers; beautiful buildings of white marble, their
galleries covered with frescoes and mosaics, and divided into small but cool and
comfortable apartments; and numberless kiosks; the whole being interspersed
with a profusion of flowers, and enveloped in the most delicious freshness. An
air of soft luxury pervaded this masterpiece of Indian art. There was nothing
great or imposing to depress the spirits or inspire serious thoughts, but every part
was small, elegant, and attractive.

After breakfast and a short siesta, the Rana, who had succeeded in escaping
from the noisy sports of the Holi, rejoined us with his Court, and announced to
us his intention of hunting on that very day. It was necessary to propitiate the
goddess of the day, and we went in pursuit of her implacable enemy. ‘The forest
which stretches from the Gordun Bulas to the ramparts was entirely surrounded
by the regiment Sambou Pultun, which the Rana always employs at his battues,
in order to be sure of keeping them in a state of efficiency ; and the houdis, or
THE LAKE OF GORDUN TALAO. 187

shikargds, occupied a picturesque position half way up the side of a ravine,
whence a view of the lake, the town, the forest, and chain of the Geerwo
could be embraced at a single glance. We rode there on elephants, and took
up our position as before at N@hrmugra, when the same scene of carnage
ensued.

That indefatigable Nimrod, Doctor Cunningham, persuaded me to accompany
him to Gordun Talao; which is one of the most picturesque little lakes of this
favoured region. A portion of its basin was concealed by steep belts of brush-
wood and high grass, while in another direction it had overflowed a forest of
palm-trees, whose withered branches drooped from the half-uprooted trunks.
Thousands of water-fowl and divers disported themselves on the black and
stagnant water; and crocodiles were to be seen either buried in the mud asleep,
with only their heads showing, or basking among the fallen trunks of trees whose
rough bark closely resembled their own scaly bodies. Doctor Cunningham wanted
a specimen of this reptile for his museum; and certainly it would have been easy
to have killed half-a-dozen in as many minutes, but the difficulty was to find one
in such a position that we could recover the body. - At length we found one, of
gigantic proportions, asleep on a rock in a little creek a long shot from the shore.
The Doctor made the attempt. His ball, which was small and conical, hit the
huge beast in the throat; but he remained immovable, and only opened his great
gaping mouth. At this moment my ball hit him in the shoulder, when his jaws
shut—he was dead. The attendants soon brought him ashore on a raft. From
the muzzle to the tip of the tail he measured thirteen feet.

A choubdar arrived with a message from the king, desiring our presence at the
palace. On our way Major Nixon informed us that the Rana was going to fulfil
the promise which he had made us one day at Nahrmugra: we were about to see
a fight between a wild boar and a panther.

Our party proceeded noisily through the forest; everybody talking of the
extraordinary spectacle about to be witnessed, which the Rana had so carefully
kept secret until the last minute; and bets were laid upon the issue of the
struggle, I maintaining the superiority of the panther, until the contrary should
be proved.

Finally, we reached the scene of the combat, which was to take place in a
handsome building surmounted by turrets, and picturesquely situated on the
shores of the lake opposite to Oudeypoor. The arena was surrounded by high
walls with marble balconies on either side, at a sufficient height from the ground
to prevent the panther from reaching them in his frantic leaps. The wild boar
was alone; a splendid animal, above the average size, and armed with long,
sharp tusks. He had been captured in the neighbouring gorges, where he was
the leader of a herd; and the loss of his liberty had rendered him fierce and
savage; he looked around him in search of an antagonist, and pawed the ground
with impatient fury. Suddenly he paused, and trembled for an instant, while his
huge mane bristled all over his shoulders. At length he saw his adversary. A
trap-door opened, and a magnificent panther slowly entered the arena, and,
crouching down in one corner, fixed his eyes upon the wild boar. The latter was
the first to attack his opponent. He rushed impetuously forward, and, allowing
the panther to spring on him, tore his flanks with his tusks. His movements
were so rapid and violent that the panther attempted to escape: but that attempt
188 INDIA.

was fatal to him, for the wild boar, taking advantage of his enemy’s distress,
redoubled his efforts; and each successive attack told on his adversary, who, with
mangled sides, his skull shattered, and blinded with blood, could no longer defend
himself. A rifle-ball put an end to the sufferings of the poor beast, and the
victor was loudly applauded by the spectators. The wild boar soon reduced the
body of his victim to a shapeless mass, trampling it under foot, and occasionally
tossing it in the air to the opposite side of the arena; and the reward of his
courage was liberty. The trap-door was opened, and, amidst the acclamations of
the crowd, he trotted off, slowly and philosophically, towards the mountains. On
turning to the Rajpoots I saw, by the expression of their countenances, how
pleased they were at the victory of their favourite adversary.

The carnival of the Holi had scarcely ended before the festival of Gouri, or

 

PANTHER AND WILD BOAR

Isani, the Hindoo Ceres, commenced. The poetic nature of the Hindoo could not
fail to celebrate the advent of this season; in which Nature, in these almost
tropical regions, displays all her riches, and when Gouri comes to accomplish the
promises of Vassanti. Gouri is one of the incarnations of Parvati, the wife of
Mahadeo, or Iswara, the great head of the Saiva Olympus. Her name signifies
“yellow,” the colour of the harvest. She is represented under the form of a
woman holding in one hand a lotus, emblem of reproduction, and in the other
a club, signifying that, as Gouri and Kali, she unites life and death. She
also bears the names of Pudma and Ana-Pourana, “nurse of the human
race.”

On the first day of the festival, a deputation leaves the town in search of the
clay of which the idol of Gouri is to be made. When finished, it is placed with
a lingam of Iswara on a little platform, round which are sown some grains of
THE FEAST OF GOURI. 189

corn ; and the soil is artificially watered and heated until the seed has germinated ;
when the women dance in a circle round the idol, and invoke the goddess in
favour of their husbands. After this the corn is gathered and distributed to the
men, who wear it in their turbanse Each rich family, and every Pourwa, or
district of the town, has its own idol. During these preparations the one topic
of conversation is the approaching departure of Gouri from the king’s palace;
speculation being rife as to whether she will be as magnificently adorned as she
was in the preceding year, and whether any new boats will be launched for the
occasion.

At length the hour arrives; the drums give the signal, and a salvo of artillery
from the heights of Eklingurh announces to the people that Gouri is on her way
to the lake. The procession forms on the terrace of the palace, and on reaching
the lake the Rana embarks, accompanied by his nobles. The site is admirably
chosen for the occasion: from, the foot of the gently rising hill, to the terrace on
which the palaces of the nobles are built, the lake forms a lovely bay. From
the royal palace to the water’s edge the terraces and towers are crowded with
specators; and the brilliantly dressed women, their hair adorned with roses and
jessamine, throng the marble steps of the Tripolia. It would be difficult to imagine
a more joyous, and, at the same time, imposing scene than is presented by this
eager and animated crowd. From the prince to the peasant, every face beams
with pleasure. The most perfect order and decorum are everywhere maintained ;
and all eyes are fixed on the Tripolia, while the arrival of Gouri is patiently
awaited. At length the procession descends the steps of the quay. In the
centre appears the goddess, seated on a throne or pth, clothed in yellow drapery,
and glittering with gold and precious stones; and on either side of her two lovely
girls wave the silver chamra above her head, while in front a group of favoured
women, armed with silver wands, and chanting hymns, perform the office of
choubdars.

On the arrival of the procession, the prince rises, with the nobles and ministers,
and remains standing until the goddess is placed on her throne near the water's
edge, when the whole Court embarks in boats. The women form a circle and
dance round the goddess with graceful and measured steps, singing hymns in
honour of the goddess of abundance, love, and devotion. The men are excluded
from this ceremony, only women being allowed to take part in it. The ablutions
of the goddess last some time, after which she is reconducted to the palace
with the same pomp as before. The Rana and his chiefs now set out to
visit the different images of Gouri by water. The little flotilla, gaily decked
out, and gliding along the shores of the lake, is one of the prettiest sights of
the whole ceremony; and the festivities wind up with a grand display of
fireworks.

A few days after the festival of Pudma, I reminded the Rajah that I had
irrevocably fixed the day of our departure for the 5th of March; and as it was
already the ist of that month, I begged him, in fulfilment of his promise, to have
everything arranged for us to continue our journey. He again tried to detain us ;
but, seeing that my resolution was taken, he promised that all should be in readi-
ness on the day appointed.

Before leaving, however, we had a bear hunt to witness, in order to complete
the series of hunts which the Rana had promised us. It was organised without
ign INDIA.

further delay, and on the 3rd we started on our march towards the high moun-
5 which enclose the valley on the north. Travelling by atrocious roads across
orges and hills, either totally barren or only partially covered

tain
a country of rocky g

 

with scattered groups of wax cactus, we arrived at length at Burdi Talao, a
aie lake, quite hidden among the mountains. Ina straw hut erected on
the embankment we found an excellent breakfast awaiting us, which we quickly
A BEAR HUNT. 1g

demolished whilst admiring the landscape; and we regretted that the short time
we had. at our disposal would prevent our fishing for some of the enormous
murrell and pahra with which the lake abounds. The dam which forms this lake
is remarkably constructed: it is sixty-three feet in height, and at the verge of
the water is ornamented with kiosks and broad flights of steps.

The camp of the prince, to which we shortly repaired, was pitched on a
magnificent plateau at a considerable distance from the hunting-ground, as the
bear of the Aravalis is a cunning fellow, and the noise made by five hundred
beaters would soon have driven him away. Our small and select party set out,
preceded by the beaters, who posted themselves in their several places. The
road was frightful, occasionally even dangerous; but we had nothing to fear, as
we were mounted on elephants. In situations where a horse or a mule would be
unsafe, one can rely securely on the sagacity of the elephant. The most pro-
found silence was enjoined on our taking up our position in the shikargds. The
situation was wildly beautiful. Before us rose a lofty mountain, clothed with
sombre woods, and forming an amphitheatre whose base converged on our retreat ;
and trees of a hundred years’ growth spread their huge branches above a tangled
mass of bamboos, canes, and cacti. But what was most striking was the tran-
quillity which reigned around us; the twitter of a few birds alone broke the
silence, while a monkey asleep on the branch of a tree was the only living
animal to be seen. Presently the huntsman rose and waved a scarf, and the
next moment the air resounded with the clash of gongs and cymbals, mingled
with shouts and the occasional discharge of rifles. Soon jackals, hyenas, and a
few wild boars rushed past us, but we took no notice of them. The bears were
not to be so easily frightened: they perfectly understood that all this uproar was
merely intended to drive them within range of our rifles; and the shouts and
cries of the beaters increasing every instant acquainted us with the fact that
the crafty animals were attempting to force the line, as several of them indeed
succeeded in doing. At length one came in our direction, He advanced
slowly, then paused, and advanced again; there were six of us, and we were to
shoot in succession, and not to fire more than one shot apiece. The Rana fired
and wounded the bear as soon as he came within range, which so enraged him
that he rushed furiously towards us. I then fired and hit him, but without much
effect ; the third shot brought him down. The beaters, on coming up, informed us
that several bears had made their escape; upon which the Rana accused them
of want of courage. ‘The brave fellows shook their heads, and said that they
would never let a tiger escape them, but that Master Bruin was a great deal
more formidable ; for he attacks a man at once, and his embrace is deadly; and,
if he tries to escape, the only alternative is to make room for him or else kill
him on the spot.

The day of departure drew near, and the camels which were to transport us
were already assembled in our courtyard. The Raos still tried to detain us, but
I remained unshaken. These gallant fellows, for whom we had conceived a
sincere friendship, could not understand our obstinate determination to quit a life
of soft indulgence for one of privation in the jungle.

The fourth was the day fixed for bidding farewell to the Rana. An elephant
and a guard of honour came to conduct Schaumburg and myself to the palace,
where we were received with more than usual deference. The chamberlains
192 INDIA.

ushered us into the throne-room, where the Rana awaited our arrival; for he

desired this interview to be more imposing than any previous one. “ But,
sahib,” said he, “you have been here but two days!” “Two months, Maha-
rajah!” I replied —* two years of pleasure.” This thoroughly Oriental answer

elicited the “Wah! wah!” of the courtiers, who sang my praise in chorus,
Finally the Rana sent for the khillut, or complimentary gift, which was prepared
for us, and wished us a pleasant journey. I left the palace arm-in-arm with the
Rao of Baidlah, much affected by this interview; and when, on mounting my
elephant, I wrung the hand of the venerable Rao for the last time, it seemed as
though I were parting for ever from old and true friends, and I felt a choking
sensation in my throat, and tears filled my eyes.
CHAPTER XVI.
MEYWAR,

Hulkaras and Purwanas.—A Word to Travellers.— Difficulty with Brahmins.—Land of Croco-
diles.—Legend of Ontala.—Morwtin.—Chittore—Temples and Palaces.—Heroes, Heroines,
Legends, and Chivalry.—Tower of Victory.— Ameergurh.—Bunera,

ARCH 5TH.—The preparations for our departure are at length
completed, though not without some trouble. In spite of the
Rana having placed his camels at our disposal, the vukeel, for
some unaccountable reason, has put endless difficulties in our
way. The beasts that he first sent me were either lame, or

: unmanageable, or too weak, and had to be sent back. At
length I threatened to report it to the Resident, or even to the Rana himself;
and by this means I have succeeded in procuring fifteen strong camels to carry
our men, baggage, and tents, and two express dromedaries for ourselves ; our escort
consisting of twelve sowars, who, with our servants and camel-drivers, raise the
number of our company to more than forty persons.

At daybreak this morning I despatched our caravan to Dubock, in order to
facilitate our departure, which, in spite of my precaution, was a scene of great
confusion. We ate our last breakfast at Major Nixon’s, where we found all our.
kind friends assembled round his table. At last it was time to say good-bye, and,
with a hearty shake of the hand from every one, we sprang into our saddles and
started off at a rapid pace. An-hour’s hard riding brought us to the gorges of
Dobarri. We paused a moment to take a last look at the view behind us. At
our feet lay the rich valley, with its woods and fields and smiling villages; the
little river winding among the rocks; the towers of Ahar just showing above the
trees; and in the distance Oudeypoor, the city of the Rising Sun, crowned with
palaces, and backed by the majestic range of the Aravalis, whose blue peaks stood
out against the horizon. This was our last look at the Happy Valley. After
passing the gate of the Dobarri pass, we were no longer in the Geerwo: before us
was spread the whole panorama of the plains of Meywar, only bounded on the
eastern horizon by the faint blue line of the mountains of the celebrated Chittore.

On reaching the bungalow of Dubock, we found our camp already pitched
round it; and a few moments after, two hulkaras, or messengers from the Rana,
arrived with the purwanas, or firmans, promised us by the prince. These pur-
wanas, addressed to the thakours or barons, the kotwals or governors of towns,
and the patels or chiefs of villages, command them to treat us with the respect due

to the friends of the Maharana, and also to furnish us, gratis, with rassdd, 1.¢., the
: N

  
194 INDIA.

coolies and provisions necessary for our party. Rass&id is to be provided, on my
application, during the whole time of our stay in the different localities; and a
list of the expenses, drawn up by the patel and signed by myself, is to be sent
to the minister of the Rana, who undertakes to defray them.* The purwana adds
that, as the Sahibs are travelling to see the country, every one is to point out to
them the various objects of interest, and also to give them information respecting
the customs, traditions, and legends of the inhabitants. This last paragraph was
most important, as otherwise the natives, fearing to compromise themselves, meet
one’s inquiries with an air of innocent ignorance. The two hulkaras, who are to
accompany us, have charge of the firmans, and are to see that the Rana’s wishes
are properly carried out.

Everything in the camp has been arranged with surprising order: the camels
and horses are picketed in a row, and the tents evenly pitched; every man is at
his post, and has prepared his fire and his bed, which consists of a straw mat.
The confusion which reigned at Oudeypoor has disappeared. During the last few
days of one’s stay in a place he is about to leave, it is impossible to get the men
to do anything properly ; the camels are carelessly laden, the cords break, and a
thousand difficulties crop up every instant: but, if you can only manage to get
them a few miles from the town, they see that delay is useless, and all goes on
well. Indians are all fond of travelling; what they dislike is starting: but, once
on the march, it is difficult to find men who submit to hardships and privations
with so much cheerfulness. One can then get them to do things which they will
not do in a town; no kind of work is considered humiliating in the, jungle, and
every one is willing to lend a helping hand.

And now for a few words of advice to those who may be tempted to travel
in Central India. When in the jungle, it is essential to define positively the
respective position of every member of the caravan. Each department and each
caste wishes to get the upper hand, and hence arise endless quarrels among men
whom a camp life alone brings into collision; the cook setting himself up as
master, and expecting all to obey him; the sowar giving orders to the camel-
drivers, and so through the camp; in which in a few days there are twenty
masters, and no one to obey. It is of the last importance to make every one

thoroughly understand, from the beginning, that you yourself mean to be sole -

master; but, in order to do this, you must thoroughly understand the language,
as all orders should emanate directly from yourself. Do not, however, suppose
from this that the traveller has nothing to do. He has to superintend and look
after everything. Should any one fall ill, he is at once consulted; if quarrels
arise, he has to decide them; and, in the eyes of all, he is morally responsible for
everything that happens to the caravan.

At night you must see to the safety of the camp, and instruct the chief of
the sowars how to post the chokeydars, or night guards, furnished by the neigh-
bouring village; you must settle the hour of departure, the route to be followed,
and the place of the next encampment; and give the hulkara the list of the
rassid to be raised on the villages before your arrival. Above all do not trust to
your own people for information as to the road, as they will allow you to conduct
them wherever you please, without even caring to know their destination. Collect

* This would only be done from personal friendship. It is usual, throughout India, as in other
countries, for the traveller to pay his way.—Ep.

{
A WORD TO TRAVELLERS. 195

all the information you can, and trace out your march on the map; you will not
be puzzled with roads, for there are only tracks in general. Far more necessary
is it for you to acquaint yourself with the rivers and dangerous portions of the
route, to foresee every difficulty, and®point it-out to your men, who never think of
taking any precautions themselves.

On entering a district, you must at once show the natives what your line of
conduct is to be. You will be overwhelmed with a thousand complaints, most,
of them false or exaggerated, from which you must distinguish the just, and see
them righted. You thus acquire a reputation for justice which, spreading far and
wide, precedes you wherever you go. But, besides being just, you must maintain
your own rights with a firmness which, in Europe, would be considered harsh ;
the purwana must be obeyed to the letter. What you do out of good nature is
ascribed to weakness, and you will no longer find it possible to obtain what you
require.

The feudal system has taught these poor peasants to respect none but those
who make their power to be felt, and to be as exacting to their inferiors as they
are cringing to their superiors. It is easy to make them understand, by justice
tempered with kindness, that we Europeans can and will make ourselves respected
without abusing our power.

March 6th— At the hour fixed the camp was astir, and I was awakened by
Sheik, my faithful khansamah, bringing me a good cup of hot coffee. On leaving
the bungalow, I found all our men busily occupied in the operation of loading the
camels by the light of large fires, which they had kindled for that purpose; and
the camels, indignant at being roused so early, showed their impatience by frightful
bellowings. It was a picturesque scene; the noise, the ruddy glare, the great
dark trees—all these contrasted strangely with the perfect calm of the surrounding
country. It was four o’clock, the hour of silence in the tropics, when the wild
beasts are returning to their lairs, and the rest of creation awaits the dawn. The
air felt keen and chilly, and one was glad to draw nearer to the camp fires. The
moon was down, and total darkness would have reigned but for the glimmer of
the stars, and the bright glow which precedes the rising of the sun, forming a
gigantic halo on the eastern horizon.

The country through which we are travelling is highly favoured by nature.
The soil is composed of that rich black mould called by the Indians md/ ; whence
the name of Malwa, given to the vast tract of country which is watered by the
Chumbul. But it is far from being cultivated in proportion to its fertility. The
eye roams over immense plains, covered with the dusky bushes of which the
regular Indian jungle consists; and here and there may be seen a village occupying
the side of a little hill, with its houses and gardens, and surrounded by emerald-
green plantations, crops of golden corn, and fields of opium with flowers of a
thousand colours. These villages seemed to be in a prosperous condition ; on our
approach some of the inhabitants came out to meet us, while the chief men and
representatives of the Government hastened to make their salaams to us.

After a pleasant ride of twelve miles along the excellent road made by Taylor,
at the Rana’s expense, we arrived at Mynar. My head servant certainly has the
eye of an artist. Our camp is delightfully situated on the shores of a beautiful
lake overshadowed by gigantic trees; the village, with its graceful temple, crowns
a small hill, its houses extending to the water’s edge; and opposite lies a great
196 INDIA.

marsh, whereon flocks of wild ducks disport themselves among the huge lotus
leaves. I at once set off in that direction with my gun, and my first shot
produced a marvellous effect; I could have fancied myself in Robinson Crusoe’s
island. The birds rose in a dense cloud, almost obscuring the light of the sun,
and were so easily brought down that I was soon tired of such tame sport; and
the sowars, collecting the game, carried it to my tent, secretly laughing. This was
soon explained, for I had scarcely finished my breakfast when a visitor was
announced, and I found myself confronted by a fat Brahmin, who gesticulated
wildly, declaring that shooting on the lake was against the laws, and that the
village was sahsun, and consequently sacred. I could not tell whether his state-
ment was correct; but I assured him that I had erred entirely through ignorance,
though in fact I had right on my side, as the Rana had given me permission to
hunt in every part of his dominions without any restriction; and as my good
Brahmin did not appear satisfied with this explanation, I ordered him to leave the
camp. It is true that Mynar is sahsun, that is to say, church property; the
priests pretending that they possess it by virtue of a grant made to them by the
legendary Rajah Maudhata, who reigned at Daha prior to Vikra Madytia, and
whose empire extended to the Aravalis. The legend is that this king being at
the neighbouring town of Doundia for the celebration of Aswamedha, or sacrifice
of the horse, desired te recompense the two richis or holy anchorites who had
performed the ceremony; but they refused all reward for their services. He then
had recourse to stratagem, and concealed in the Bira which he presented to them
a deed of gift conveying to them the town and estates of Mynar; and the richis,
having accepted the Bira, lost all their miraculous power; whereupon they estab-
lished themselves on their newly acquired lands, and became cultivators of the
soil.

There is not a single state in the whole of Rajpootana of which a considerable
part of the land does not belong to the Brahmins. By carrying on for centuries
her system of monopoly, the church has succeeded in amassing immense riches,
which she jealously guards. Do not the laws of Menu recommend princes to
bequeath, before their death, all their personal property to the priests? And do
they not further menace them with sixty years’ imprisonment in the body of a
worm, if they dare to appropriate any portion of the church lands? It would
indeed be hard to exchange the purple for so ignominious a life; but it is pleasant
to quit the world with the assurance that, although you have despoiled your
successors of their just inheritance, at least your own soul is safe. The kings
therefore give liberally, and the church takes good care to guard her possessions.
Thus in the kingdom of Meywar part of the state revenues goes to the Brahmins,
and the king scarcely dares to appropriate land conceded to the priests centuries
ago, and since abandoned. The district of Mynar contains large tracts of arable
land at present uncultivated, owing to the absence or disappearance of the original
masters. Not content with thus allowing a large portion of their dominions to lie
unproductive, the kings still make new concessions, which drain and impoverish
the country; but this state of things cannot last, and everything tends to show
that the English agents will succeed in surmounting the superstitious fears of the
princes, and that the lands will again be cultivated.

Like the monks of the Middle Ages, who took advantage of the general
ignorance to forge royal charters, the Brahmins of our day employ the same means
DIFFICULTY WITH BRAHMINS. 197

to increase their possessions. With great solemnity they dig up a plate of copper,
previously oxidised and buried by themselves, on which, to the astonishment of
all, it is recorded that the god Krishna, or some mythological hero, had granted
them, two or three thousand years Wefore, the very lands which they covet. The
real owners of the land are then treated as usurpers, and expelled without pity ;
and if any venture to doubt the authenticity of the charter, they take good care
to conceal their thoughts, for fear of bringing upon themselves the vengeance of
the all-powerful caste of priests.

The day passed without my hearing anything more of the Brahmins of Mynar;
but in the evening the Rana’s hulkara came and told me that they had refused
to obey the purwana, and to furnish the necessary provisions. They thought by
these means to punish my indiscretion; but I tried to make them understand,
through the hulkaras, that resistance was useless, as there were fifty of us who
had had no dinner, and who were by no means disposed to go to bed fasting. As
negotiations carried on at so great a distance produced no effect whatever, I gave
the order to mount, and proceeded towards the village, accompanied by Schaumburg
and my sowars. I inquired for the house of the chief, and in a few minutes was
ushered into the presence of a stout Brahmin, full of sanctity and insolence. In
vain I tried to argue with him calmly; he would not listen to reason, and only
answered that I must remove my camp three miles from the village, after which
he would perhaps think about sending us a few provisions. Provoked by such
impertinence, I complained of his conduct in no very measured terms, and
threatened to report it to the Rana of Oudeypoor. This made him furious; and,
blind with rage, he brandished over my head his sceptre, a bamboo mounted with
iron. At this outrageous conduct I lost all self-control, and dealt him a blow
which sent him flying among his counsellors. I then turned to my sowars, and
gave them permission to procure the necessary provisions as best they could. The
Brahmins remained mute with astonishment. My sowars at once dispersed, and in
less than half an hour we returned to the camp escorting a file of coolies laden with
flour and corn and jugs of milk. In order that none might think that I considered
these spoils as belonging to me by right, I ordered a minute list of all that had
been taken to be made out, and sent to the chief Brahmin, who came himself in
the evening to apologise for his conduct.

March 7th—A march of thirteen miles, still in an easterly direction, across a
flat, slightly undulating country, brought us to the town of Muggerwara. This
portion of Meywar forms part of the hizh tableland which slopes gradually
towards the branches of the Vindhya Mountains. The soil is rich, but the villages
are few and scattered, and it is only at intervals that the monotony of the low
jungle is broken by a field or a small wood.

Muggerwara, which means “Land of Crocodiles,” is a town of some im-
portance, situated on a rocky eminence, and surrounded by picturesque jhils
(marshy pools).

Our camp was pitched between the town and one of these swamps; and here
I received the visits of the principal inhabitants, who were extremely obliging.
Among these visitors was a bhdt, or distinguished bard, who, when all were
assembled round the fire in the evening, related to us several heroic incidents in
the history of the Sesoudias, which occurred during the long wars carried on
azainst the Mahometan invaders, and which portrayed in the most vivid colours
<< INDIA.

the chivalrous character of this people. The following episode is worthy of
record :—

“When the great Padisha Jehanghir had taken possession of the whole of
Meywar, and had driven back the Rana and his warriors into the wild gorges of
the Aravali Mountains, it happened that part of the Mogul forces having been
sent into another province of this vast empire, several strongholds of Meywar
were left undefended ; and the Rajpoots, taking advantage of the opportunity, left
their mountains to try and reconquer part of their lost territories. All the tribes
assembled round the prince to discuss the plan of the campaign, when, at the
moment of starting, a dispute arose between the Suktawuts and the Chandawuts.
Between these two tribes, the most powerful in Meywar, a spirit of rivalry had
for some time existed; and now each coveted the honour of forming the vaneuard
in this expedition. The claims urged by each party were equal, and they had
already come to blows, when the Rana put an end to the dispute by promising the
post of honour to the tribe which should first enter Ontala. Ontala was at that
time a citadel which occupied a formidable position, commanding the road from
Oudeypoor to Chittore; and its ruins are still to be seen a few miles from
Muggerwara. The two tribes accepted the king’s decision, and both left their
respective camps a short time before daybreak. Accompanied by their bards, they
marched towards Ontala, animated with the hope of finally revenging themselves
on their cruel enemies, and of obtaining for themselves the much-coveted post of
honour. The Suktawuts, who knew the country well, marched straight for the
only gate which gave access to the interior of the citadel, and arrived there before
daybreak ; but the alarm was soon given, the Mussulmans flocked to the ramparts,
and fighting commenced. In the meantime the Chandawuts had mistaken their
road, and lost some time in fruitless endeavours to find their way out of a swamp,
until a shepherd of Ontala offered to guide them; and, burning with impatience,
they arrived under the walls. With more foresight than their rivals, they had
provided themselves with scaling-ladders; and their chief was the first to scale
the wall: but a ball struck him, and he fell back amongst his companions. It was
not his destiny to lead the herob (vanguard). Both parties now were on the point
of being repulsed. On the side of the Suktawuts, the men fell under a shower of
bullets around their chief, who, mounted on an elephant, tried to force the gate ;
but the iron spikes with which it was studded prevented the animal from using
his strength; and all hope for them seemed over, when suddenly a shout was
heard from the side of the Chandawuts. The Sukta chief could no longer control
himself. Flinging himself from his elephant, and clinging to the spikes of the
gate, he commanded the mahout, on pain of death, to force the enormous animal
against his body. He was obeyed, and his body was crushed against the gate,
which yielded to the shock, and the men rushed through the opening. But, alas!
the Sukta’s heroic sacrifice was of no avail. The Chandawuts had already entered
the fortress, and their shouts were those of victory. On the death of the Chanda
chief, the command devolved on his nearest relative, a proud and intrepid Rajpoot,
renowned for his temerity, and known to all as the Benda Thakour, or the mad
baron of Deogurh. On seeing the chief fall, he fastened the body on his back,
and, bounding up the ladder, shouted, ‘ The herob is for us” The cry was repeated
by the whole tribe; everything gave way before their impetuosity, and they were
soon inside the walls. As is usual in such cases, the garrison of Ontala was put
“REFUGE OF THIEVES.” 199

to the sword; none were spared. Is there a more heroic deed to be found in all
our annals of chivalry than that of this Sukta chief, who gave himself up to a
horrible death to maintain the honour of his tribe ?”

The bard brought his recital to a®close with an anecdote which illustrates the
phlegmatic nature of the Orientals. “While the Rajpoots were attacking Ontala,
two Mussulmans of rank were deeply engaged at a game of chess; they were
warned of their danger, but disdained to move, fully persuaded that the base
rabble would be repulsed. The citadel was taken, but the two players still
continued their game. Suddenly the keep was attacked, and they found them-
selves surrounded by Rajpoots. One of the Mussulmans turned to the victors
and coolly asked if they might be permitted to finish their game. The request
was granted, and they calmly went on playing. Under any other circumstances,
such courage would have excited the admiration of the Rajpoots; but the cruel
death of their chiefs had hardened their hearts ; and when the game was finished,
the two players were put to death.”

March 8th.—At an early hour this morning, we started on a march of sixteen
miles across the district of Morwun, which is looked upon as hostile territory by
my men. ‘We crossed the frontier and encamped near the village of Choorpara,
which belongs to the Rana. The country of Morwun belongs to the Nawab of
Tonk, the successor of Ameer Khan. It was conceded to this family as a recom-
pense for the numerous services rendered by them to the Mahrattas, during the
long years when Rajpootana was overrun by them. The English Government
confirmed Ameer in the possession of all the lands in the kingdoms of Meywar,
Dhoundhar, and Haraouti. Morwun is completely surrounded by the Rana’s
territories, and was the first capital of the Mori kings, the founders of Chittore,
and the predecessors of the Ghelotes. This ancient town, according to tradition,
was destroyed by fire from heaven, sent by the god Indra to punish the impiety
of its inhabitants. The few ruins which remain are of little interest, with the
exception of a beautiful temple dedicated to Sheshnag, the hydra with a thousand
heads. These historical relics add to the regret felt by the Rajpoots in seeing this
fine country in the hands of Mahometans.

Much to the satisfaction of my people, I had avoided pitching my camp in
Morwun, where, in any case, the Rana’s purwanas would have been of no service
to me. The village near which we are encamped goes by the strange name of
Choorpara, that is, “ Refuge of thieves.” The inhabitants, however, appear to be
the most honest people in the world. They show the utmost readiness to carry
out the orders of the firman, and bring us sheep, kids, fowls, eggs, and milk, &c.,
most willingly. The houses, which are numerous and well built, are almost all
surrounded by fruit trees; and the country is covered with rich poppy-fields and
rice-plantations; the whole landscape presenting a charming picture of peace and
prosperity, and forming a pleasing contrast to the sterile moorlands through which
we travelled in the morning. The blooming faces of the villagers beam with
pleasure; they are charmingly sociable, and often come to chat with me. The
surrounding country is flat; and, to the east, the level range of the Pathar
Mountains forms a long blue boundary-line, while before us, at a distance of
twelve miles, stands like a sentinel the rock of Chittore, or “ Parasol of the
world,” the palladium of Hindooism.

March 9th—At four o’clock in the morning we left Choorpara ; and, crossing
INDIA.

200

a low range of hills covered with brushwood and high grass a few miles from the
village, we came upon a fertile plain watered by the Bairis, and stretching as far
as Chittore. At seven o’clock we reached the dak bungalow on the road from
Neemuch to Ajmeer, where we halted for a short time, and then proceeded towards
the fortress, where our tents, which had preceded us, were already pitched. After
fording the river at a short distance from the ruins of a magnificent bridge, you
enter Tonilaiti, the lower town, which you have to cross from one end to the other,
in order to reach the steps which lead to the summit of the plateau. Toulaiti is
the second town of importance in the kingdom ; the bazaars are always a scene of
life and animation, and are surrounded by magnificent stone houses. Since the
Ranas of Oudeypoor have abandoned Chittore, no strangers are allowed to enter
the fortress without special permission ; the majority of travellers, therefore, are
obliged to be content with viewing at a distance this mountain covered with
nagnificent monuments. But the royal firman opened every door to us, and we
were permitted to take a closer survey of the marvels of the Queen of Meywar.
After passing numerous gates, we reached the plateau, and found our camp
pitched near a pond excavated in the rock, and a few steps from the ancient
palace of the Ghelotes.

The celebrated fortified town of Chittore, which is built on the top of an
isolated mountain, about three miles from the Pathar Mountains, was the ancient
capital of Meywar, and was for many centuries the last bulwark of Hindoo
nationality against the invasion of the Mussulmans. The plateau .on which it is
built is from two to three miles long from south-west to north-east. It is not of
equal height from one extremity to the other, as the mountain varies from 250
to 400 feet above the level of the plain. The sides of the mountain . are
perpendicular, and a line of embatiled ramparts, supported by large round towers,
runs along the edge of the precipice. This naturally strong position, reinforced
by its admirable works and defences and the valour of its garrison, should render
Chittore a strong fortress ; which, moreover, cannot be reduced by famine, as it is
supplied with water by numerous reservoirs, and contains immense storehouses
and granaries; but, in spite of this, there are few towns in India which have been
so often sacked. Its weak point is a small plateau on the south side of the
mountain, which, although considerably lower than the ramparts, has always been
chosen by the assailants as the point of attack. Tradition attributes the formation
of this plateau, called Chittore, to the Sultan Ala-Oudin; it was, in fact, from
this point that, in 1303, he made the assault which finally reduced Chittore ;
and, as the siege lasted twelve years, it can be easily imagined that his works
added considerably to the height of this counterfort. In 1792, also, when
Maharaja Scindia bombarded the town, he planted his batteries on the plateau
of Chittore.

The base of the mountain is covered with forest, inhabited by wild beasts ; and
the lower town of Toulaiti occupies only a small portion of it, half-way down the
western side, whence all the marvels of Chittore may be seen. The great length
of the rock in proportion to its height makes it appear lower than it really is; at
first sight, indeed, it seems but an insignificant hill.

From Toulaiti there is only one means of access to Chittore, which is defended
hy seven gates, placed at intervals up the ascent, but now in a state of dilapida-
tion. These gates are all monuments, and are built in a handsome style of
CHITTORE. 201

architecture, containing guard-rooms and even large apartments. Between the
third, called Fanta Durwaza, or “Broken Gate,” and the fourth, or gate of
Hunouman, stands a small cenotaph of white marble, which marks the memorable

THE SENGAR OCHAORI, IN THB FORT OF CHITTORE.

 

 

 

 

spot where the two heroes, Jeimul and Puttore, fell during the siege of the town
by Akbar; and near it lies the tomb of Ragoude, another martyr to the Rajpoot
cause, who is now worshipped as a demi-god. The last gate, or Rampol, is a-
202 INDIA.

magnificent edifice. A vast archway leads to the town, on either side of which
are handsome guard-rooms, adorned with columns ; and above is the Durrikana, or
great hall of the Rajpoot princes. It was in this hall that the terrible genius of
Chittore, the Kangra Ranee (the queen of battlements), is said to have appeared
to the Rana Ursi, and in awful language predicted the degradation of his race.
The walls were covered with legends of heroic deeds, which severally called forth
a glowing description from my worthy old Rajpoot guide. In former days an
immense city, the glory of India, extended beyond this gate ; now nothing remains
of it but a few mud huts, half hidden among the ruins of palaces.

In my description of the monuments of Chittore I shall follow the plan
generally adopted by the native guides ; namely, to proceed along the western side
of the plateau to its southern extremity, returning towards the north along the
eastern side. The first building you meet in this direction is a beautiful temple,
dedicated to Toulsi Bhawani, the tutelary goddess of the Scribes; near which are
the ancient abodes of the seneschals and constables and the Top Khana, or park
of artillery, where a few old cannons, the only remains of the sack of Chittore,
still lie half buried in the grass. Not far from here rises a massive structure,
called: the Nolakha Bindar, in which the treasures of the Ranas were accumulated
in former days. At the extremity of this fortress is a very ancient Jain temple,
the Sengar Chaori; the walls of which are covered with exquisite sculptures.
Although the dome is plain and unornamented outside, the interior is finished in
one of the most beautiful styles of Jain architecture.

The great palace of the Rana Khoumbhou, which he is erroneously supposed
to have built, though really he only added to it, occupies an immense area. It is
a plain building, but in excellent taste, and gives a very good idea of the domestic
architecture of the Rajpoots before the Mussulman invasion. The walls, which
incline slightly inwards, are only ornamented with rose-work or artificial battle-
ments; and turrets, balconies, and verandahs with balustrades give a stamp of
originality to this style which is rarely to be met with in other Indian monu-
ments. In front of the palace is a court, surrounded by guard-rooms; from
which a large arched gate leads into a paved street, which was formerly one of the
principal thoroughfares of the city.

At a short distance from the palace are two very remarkable temples. The
larger of the two, dedicated to Vrij, the Black God, was built by Rana Khoum-
bhou about the year 1450; the other, in honour of Shaumath, was erected by
his wife, the famous Mira Bai, who was celebrated for her poetry. The inscrip-
tions on these two temples state that they were built with the ruins of temples of
great antiquity brought from the deserted town of Nagara, the remains of which
may still be seen five miles to the north of Chittore. This circumstance imparts
great interest to the bas-reliefs and sculptures with which they are ornamented.
Behind these temples are two reservoirs, lined with enormous blocks of polished
stone; about 120 feet long, 20 feet wide, and 16 feet deep: they were built on
the occasion of the marriage of one of the Sesoudia princesses.

Near one of these reservoirs, the Sourya Khound, or Source of the Sun,
stands the Kheerut Khoumb, or the Tower of the Victory of Khoumbhou, the
most celebrated monument of the ancient capital. It was erected by the Rana of
that name, to commemorate the great victory which he gained over the allied
armies of the Sultans of Malwa and Goojerat. The Kheerut Khoumb of
CHITTORE. 203

‘

Chittore is a square tower, over 100 feet in height. Far from presenting a
uniform appearance, this tower, which has nine storeys, is profusely ornamented
with balconies, projecting cornices, and mouldings, which break the monotony of

THE PALACE OF RANA KHOUMBHOU, IN THE FORT OF CHITTORE.

 

the straight lines and render it singularly beautiful. Statues and ornaments
decorate it inside and out, and every god of the Hindoo Olympus is there
represented. The ninth storey is a lantern-tower, surmounted by a modern
204 INDIA.

dome, the ancient one having been destroyed by lightning. It was in this airy
apartment that the slabs of white marble recording the genealogy and principal
acts of the Ranas were placed. Owing to the vandalism of the Mussulman,
however, only a few fragments now remain, which record the names of the
founder of the Kheerut Khoumb and the date of its erection. One of the
inscriptions runs thus :—“ May the glory of King Khoumbhou last as long as the
sun’s rays illumine the earth! As long as the ice-fields of the north continue,
and the ocean forms a collar round the neck of the earth, so long shall the glory
of Khoumbhou be perpetuated! May the memory of his reign, and the splendour
of the age in which he lived, be transmitted to all eternity! Seven years elapsed
since 1500, when the Rana placed this aigrette on the brow of Chittore. Spark-
ling like the first rays of the sun, the tower rose, like the bride of the earth.
‘ In the Sumout year 1550, in the month of MAjh, on the summit of the
unchanging Chutterkote, this Tower of Victory was finished. To what shall we
compare it? Let Chittore regard with derision the paradise of Mérou. And to
what can the Chutterkote itself be compared, the summit of which is watered by
perpetual fountains, and crowned with a dazzling diadem; which possesses in-
numerable temples to the Most High; and abounds with sweet-scented trees, where
the bees disport themselves, and among which the most gentle zephyrs play ?”

From the top of this tower you have a magnificent panorama of the whole
country. It is an admirable position for studying the topography of the
neighbourhood, and it was here that Tod conceived the idea of making the
rivers Bairis and Bunas navigable, a project which will certainly be carried
out one of these days.

According to the accounts of the time, the tower of Khoumbhou cost ninety
lacs of rupees (nine hundred thousand pounds)—an enormous sum, if you consider
the relative value of money in those days. It is entirely built of a close-grained
yellowish stone, containing a great deal of quartz, and so hard that the outline of
the statuettes has not in the least lost its sharpness.

At the foot of the tower is a temple dedicated to the invisible god, Brahm,
erected by Khoumbhou in honour of his father Mokul, whose -bust stands alone in
the sanctuary. Pipul fig-trees have invaded the dome, which they have almost
destroyed. Not far from here is the Char Bagh, or royal cemetery, which contains
the mausoleums of all the Ranas from Bappa (728), founder of the dynasty, to
Oudey Sing, the last prince of Chittore (1597). Some of these sepulchres are
very remarkable.

From this a steep path, winding among the rocks and brushwood, leads to a
sacred fountain, the Gaee-Moukh, or “ Cow’s mouth,” which is shaded by venerable
trees; and near it is an opening in the rock, which gives access to immense
subterranean galleries, called by the people Rani-Bindar, or “Chamber of the
Queens.” It was in this cavern that the women sacrificed themselves at the first
sack of Chittore. Since then the entrance has been walled up, and no one is
allowed to enter it. On the other side of this ravine are numerous palaces, among
which the guide pointed out that of Bhimsi and Pudmanee, which is a large and
beautiful building, standing on the margin of a fine sheet of water; and farther on,
at the southern extremity of the plateau, is the palace of the Puar king, Chitrung
Mori, the founder of Chittore ; which is, consequently, the most ancient edifice in

the fortress.
CHITTORE. 205

On returning towards the north by the eastern side of the mountain, we came
upon palaces, temples, and lakes, which would take too long to describe in detail.
The imposing number of these buildings, rising from the midst of thorns and briars,

 

THE TOWER OF VICTORY, IN THE FORT OF CHITTORE.

gave one an idea of what this great city must have been in the days of its glory.
Even now you can trace the paved streets, and see the stone steps which formed
the threshold of the houses, and thus picture to yourself the whole plan of the town.
206 INDIA.

The plateau is entirely covered with rubbish, broken statues, and columns, to a
depth of many feet. Nearly in the centre of the eastern front rises the Khowassim
Stramba, a column of smaller dimensions than the Kheerut Khoumb, but solid
throughout ; and the architects of Khoumbhou evidently took their idea from this
Jain monument, which is dedicated to Adinath, the first Tirthankar, and bears an
inscription with the date of 896. Near this is a very ancient temple, supposed to
have been built by King Koukreswar (755). . . . Lastly, we must not omit to
notice, among the numerous palaces at the north-western extremity of the plateau,
the Acropolis of the Mori kings and of the first Gheldtes, which is a perfect
miniature citadel. In this description of the monuments of Chittore, I have only
enumerated those which, from their historical associations, are the most interesting.
To describe all the others would be extremely interesting as a history of Rajpoot
architecture; but it would here take too much time and space, for there are
no less than three hundred ancient buildings at Chittore still in a good state of
preservation.

It is easy to understand how painfully impressed the Hindoos must have been
by the misfortunes of this unhappy town; which, during their long struggles for
independence, was the central point of interest throughout all India, and the last
hope of the Rajpoots. These recollections still remain deeply engraved on the
memory of the people; and, to this day, the most solemn oath they can take is
one which recalls the destruction of Chittore.

The Hindoos reckon that Chittore has been sacked three times and a half
under the Rajpoots—once and a half under Lakumsi, and twice under Vikramajit
and Oudey Sing. We will briefly relate the circumstances of these famous events
in the last struggle for independence in India.

The Rana Lakumsi ascended the throne in 1275; and, Delhi having fallen,
all that then remained of what was held most sacred by the Hindoos was enclosed
within the walls of his capital, which had hitherto remained unmolested. The
king’s uncle, Bhimsi, who was regent during his minority, had married Pudmanee,
daughter of a noble Chohan, a woman of incomparable beauty, whose loveliness,
talents, and courage continue to be the theme of popular praise in India. The
Emperor Ala-Oudin Ghitzy, having heard of the charms of this princess, laid
siege to Chittore, for the sole purpose of getting possession of her; but the
Rajpoots bravely defended themselves, and the Sultan, wearied at length with a
long and fruitless siege, gave up his enterprise, and only requested that he might
be permitted for once to see the face of the beautiful Pudmanee. His request
was granted; and, trusting to the honour of the Rajpoots, Ala entered Chittore,
satisfied his desire, and left the city. Bhimsi, wishing to show as much generous
confidence as the Mussulman, accompanied him beyond the gates. This was
precisely what Ala had intended, and the object for which he had risked his
liberty. An ambuscade, which had been previously arranged, entrapped the
imprudent Rajpoot, and he was carried off prisoner to the Mussulman camp.
Great was the despair of Chittore on learning the next day that Ala would only:
consent to release his prisoner in exchange for the princess. Pudmanee did not
hesitate a moment. She publicly announced her intention to give herself up to
the Sultan; but she assembled her relations, and imparted to them the plan she
had conceived for the delivery of her husband. Ala was then informed that the
princess consented to give herself in exchange for Bhimsi, on condition that she
SIEGE OF CHITTORE. 207

might be allowed to bring with her, as far as the enemy’s camp, her companions,
servants, and the members of her family from whom she would have to take
leave; stipulating at the same time that the laws of the zenana should in no
way be infringed. On the followimg day seven hundred litters left the town,
each borne by four armed soldiers disguised as bearers, and concealing within its
curtains a chosen warrior of Chittore. On arriving at the camp, half an hour
was accorded to these so-called women for taking leave of Pudmanee; and
Bhimsi, who was now free, rejoined his warriors, and, under cover of the tents,
consulted with them as to the best mode of attack. At a given moment the
men sprang out of the litters, when they were at once attacked by the Tartar
soldiers; and Bhimsi, taking advantage of the confusion, mounted a horse and
returned to Chittore, while his warriors covered his retreat. It was a desperate
struggle, and few of the Rajpoots succeeded in regaining the fortress; but the losses
of Ala-Oudin were so heavy that, in despair, he raised the siege. This was the
occasion to which the Hindoo historians allude, when they say that Chittore was
once half sacked; for, although it was not actually taken, the flower of the
Rajpoot chivalry perished.

In 1290, Ala-Oudin again laid siege to Chittore, this time for the purpose of
destroying the last refuge of the idolaters. The place held out for more than ten
years; but the Mussulmans finally succeeded in taking the little plateau, and the
Rajpoots then saw that their ruin was inevitable. A legend of that time re-
presents the Rana Lakumsi, covered with wounds and broken down by the
fatigues of this protracted siege, seeking some means of saving one of his twelve
sons to perpetuate his dynasty, when the tutelary spirit of Chittore, the
bloodthirsty Kangra Ranee, suddenly appeared, and addressed him with these
words :—“I must have royal victims! Let twelve crowned princes shed their
blood for me, and their descendants shall reign over Meywar.” The next day
Lakumsi assembled his council and repeated to them the words of the goddess ;
but the old men conjured him to look upon this vision only as the effect of a dis-
ordered imagination. Upon this Kangra Ranee appeared to them and cried :—
“ What do I care for the thousands of barbarians whom you have sacrificed to
me? I must have royal blood. Let every day a prince be crowned; let the
royal insignia, the kirua (parasol), the chatta (umbrella), and the chamra (fan),
proclaim his accession; let him exercise sovereign authority for three days, and
on the fourth day let him go forth to battle and to death. Only on these
conditions will I remain with you.” The Rana’s sons joyfully agreed to the
sacrifice, and disputed the honour of being the first victim. Ursi was proclaimed
the first, and, after a reign of four days, died for Chittore. After eleven of his
sons had thus perished, the Rana informed his warriors that it was his turn to
die. He persuaded his twelfth son to leave the fortress with a small escort, and
secretly to escape to the Aravali Mountains. The Rajpoots then prepared for
death, and the horrible sacrifice of Johur was decided upon. The subterranean
apartments of the Rani-Bindar were filled with inflammable materials, and on
these were heaped all the women, jewels, and diamonds—in fact, all that could
excite the Mussulmans’ cupidity. The number of women amountel to several
thousands, led by their queen, the peerless Pudmanee, who was thus to escape all
offence to her person. ‘The gates of the fortress were then thrown open, and its
last defenders, with the Rana at their head, rushing upon Ala’s army, perished to
INDIA. :

208

a man, though not without inflicting a fearful vengeance on their enemies. On
entering Chittore, the Sultan found nothing but a silent and deserted town, over
which still hung a cloud of fetid smoke rising from the vaults, where all that he
had coveted lay smouldering. In his rage he destroyed the buildings within
the fortress, sparing only the palace of Pudmanee, who had caused the ruin of
Chittore.

The town was sacked the second time under Vikramajit, about the year
1537. The capital of Meywar had forgotten its former disasters, and the
glorious reign of Khoumbhou had raised it to the height of its splendour, when
the Sultan Bahadour Bajazet, king of Goojerat, invaded Meywar, in order to
avenge the defeat of his predecessor Mozuffer. Abandoned by his nobles, who
had retreated to Chittore, the Rana, a man of a violent and imperious disposition,
bravely encountered the Sultan and was defeated. Bajazet immediately invested
Chittore, and bombarded it with cannon, which the Rajpoots had as yet refused
to employ. According to the accounts of the time, the Mussulman artillery was
commanded by a European, Labri Khan Feringhi, who was probably a deserter
from the fleet of Vasco de Gama. He undermined the whole fortress; and one
of the mines did much damage, blowing up a great part of the ramparts and also
the bastion defended by the Hara contingent, which was completely destroyed.
The Rajpoot nobles made a stubborn resistance, and, in the absence of the Rana,
proclaimed a prince of the blood, who, invested with all the insignia of sovereignty,
gave himself up to death to avert the wrath of the tutelary goddess. Among the
numerous acts of heroism recorded of those times, the bards particularly notice
the conduct of the queen-mother, Jowahir Bai, a Rhatore, who, armed from ‘head
to foot, headed a sortie, and was killed after a terrible slaughter of the enemy.
At length further resistance was found to be impossible; the enemy had almost
entire possession of the ramparts. The sacrifice of Johur was decided upon; but,
as there was not time to prepare the funeral pile, the queen, Kurnaveti, therefore,
with some thousand women, stationed herself upon a rock which was undermined,
and the train was fired; and the men, satisfied that their honour was preserved,
rushed to battle and to death. Bajazet immediately abandoned the place,
horrified at the sight of the burning town filled with the dead and dying. About
twenty years later, Chittore rose from its ruins, when it was once more besieged
by the great Akbar. He was repulsed the first time, thanks to the heroic cour-
age of Oudey Sing; but he soon returned. This time Oudey basely took to
flight, leaving the defence of his capital to his brave vassals, who, in spite of
prodigious feats of heroism, were unable to save the ill-fated town, fighting as they
were, alone against the whole force of the Mogul empire. The flower of the
Meywar chivalry was destroyed; and even the widow of Saloumbra, one of the
Omras, went out to battle, accompanied by her son, a boy of sixteen, and her
daughter-in-law, all three of whom perished outside the ramparts of the sacred
town. Two heads of tribes—Jeimal and Puttore—assumed the command in
defence of the town. They did all that lay in the power of man for the safety
of Chittore, and their bravery was so highly estimated even by their enemies that
their names are held in veneration to this day, by the Mussulmans as well as by
the Rajpoots. At length, mortally wounded by the hand of Akbar, Jeimal gave
the signal for the Johur; and nine queens, five princesses, and more than 4
thousand women ascended the funeral pile, while their last defenders sought
GUNGAHAR,. at

death on the battlefield, The great Akbar, showing himself devoid of all pity on
this occasion, ordered every living thing to be put to death. He even surpassed
Ala-Oudin and Bajazet in vandalism, in destroying and mutilating the monuments
of Chittore. e

The goddess Kangra Ranee had promised never to forsake this rock, so long as
a descendant of Bappa devoted himself to her. Faithful to this compact, the
children of Lakumsi, the king himself, and many other princes had suffered a
premature death; but in this last struggle no royal victim had come forward to
appease the bloodthirsty goddess: the charm was broken, and the tie which united
her to the Sesoudias was for ever severed. She left the town which had been
abandoned by its king; and with her vanished the spell which had hitherto sur-
rounded Chittore, and which had caused it to be considered as the last palladium
of the Rajpoot race. This city, until then called the Invincible, was left defence-
less; in the words of the bard, ‘‘ this royal abode, which for a thousand years had
towered above all the other towns of Hindostan, has become the haunt of wild
beasts, and its temples desecrated and in ruins.” Formerly it was generally
designated the Holy Town; but now, although still considered a sacred place, it is
given up to evil spirits, and the Ranas are solemnly forbidden to enter it. Not
one of them has set foot on the rock since Pertab; and those who have attempted
to enter the town have felt themselves repelled by an invisible hand.

March 17th—We left Chittore this morning at daybreak, and directed our
course northward towards Ajmere, the great city of the Aravalis. At nine o’clock
we reached the town of Gungahar, which is the property of our good friend, the Rao
of Baidlah, which circumstance induced us to make a short stay here. A sacred wood
of small extent, composed of enormous trees of venerable age, lies within musket-
shot of the village; and it afforded us a charmingly shady retreat, where our
camp was soon pitched in an open glade, carpeted with smooth green turf, and
watered by a murmuring brook. I wandered through the wood, admiring the
beauty of the trees which surrounded me, and enjoying the delicious freshness, so
rare in this country, while thousands of birds of brilliant plumage flew within my
reach, squirrels played around me, and the monkeys examined me with curiosity.
These peaceable inhabitants of the wood were not alarmed by my gun, as I took
care not to break in upon the sacred calmness of the place.

On returning to my tent, I found a messenger from the Rao, who had hastened
to pay his respects to me, bringing with him baskets laden with delicious fruits,
butter, milk, and eggs, and who had already seen that my men and beasts were
properly attended to. I accompanied him to the village, which is built on a hill,
and is very healthy. On the outskirts of the wood, and near the rivulet, rise the
ancient mausoleums of the ancestors of Bukt Sing. On a neighbouring heisht,
difficult of access, the Rajpoot pointed out to me the baronial castle of the Rao, the
dilapidated towers and dungeons of which, though no longer formidable, sutfice,
however, to shelter a small detachment of soldiers, who keep the Bheels and Jats
at a respectful distance. The two hills are watered by a large tank. Regiments
of flamingoes gravely perform their exercises in the shallow waters; and to see
them drawn up in straight line, perfectly stiff and motionless, with their red wings
and: white breasts, you might easily mistake them for soldiers at drill. A portion
of them place themselves in this position to catch the fish, which the rest of their

comrades drive towards them, by beating the water with their feet. I returned
o
210 INDIA.

in the evening with the tassildar to shoot on the lake, and we bagged a great
number of wild ducks, among which were several pretty crested varieties which I
had not seen before.

March 18th—A short march of twelve miles brought us this morning to
Ameergurh ; where we found a bungalow, which, although somewhat dilapidated,
is preferable to our tents, the weather being uncertain. Ameergurh, a town of
some importance, is the capital of one of the Omras, or great vassals of Meywar.
This Thakour, who is of the blood royal of the Sesoudias, bears the title of Baba ;
and his fortress, standing on an isolated rock, is inaccessible, except by a narrow
path, which winds up through rocks and jungle. The chief having invited me to
visit his celebrated abode, I started to go there on horseback ; but I had little
enjoyment of my ride, as my horse was continually slipping on the pavement, and
threatened every moment to throw me over the precipice. I did not find much to
interest me in the castle itself; but the view from the top of the ramparts amply
rewarded me for the trouble of the ascent. On the east a narrow valley separated
us from the noble chain of Mandoogurh, whose blue peaks stood out against the
horizon ; near us, in the centre of the valley, rose the cenotaph of Rana Ursi; and
on the other side the town lay reflected in the lake, while in the distance stretched
the jagged and picturesque peaks of a branch of the Aravali Mountains.

At this season of the year the lake of Ameergurh dries up to half its-usual
size, and its creeks are transformed into marshes, where wild-fowl and even
crocodiles may be found among the tall dead stalks of the lotus. In the rainy
season it sometimes overflows its banks and inundates the country as far as the
mountain ; but the town is protected from the floods by a stone quay, planted with
trees. The surrounding country appears fertile, although but little cultivated; and
much of it is still covered with a low jungle.

March 19th.—At some distance from Ameergurh, we reached the Bunas, one
of the most considerable rivers of Meywar. Its banks were covered with thick
jungle, and its bed, which is four hundred yards in breadth, was almost dry; but
the rains transform it into a torrent, when communication between the two banks
is interrupted. A few miles farther on we made a short circuit in order to visit
Bhilwara. This town is admirably situated in a rich valley, on the side of an
isolated chain of mountains running parallel with the Aravalis. Its bazaars, full
of life and animation, and surrounded by fine buildings, present a charming appear-
ance; and here several native manufactures are prosperously carried on. We
crossed the town from one end to the other, and visited the Great .Pagoda, a
graceful edifice, the entrance to which is guarded by two stone elephants, with
their mahouts. Not far from this is a charming little palace, where the Rana
resides when visiting this district. At the distance of half a mile from the town
we forded the Koutisouri Nuddee, and encamped. on the opposite bank near the
large village of Sanganir. The inhabitants showed themselves well disposed in our
favour; but the weather was menacing, and towards evening I gave orders for the
camp to be struck; and we started for Bunera, a distance of ten miles, where
there is an excellent bungalow.

March 20th—Our forced march of yesterday has induced me to give our
beasts a day’s rest, as the roads are so bad in these parts that there is a great
risk of losing one’s camels, however much care is taken not to over-drive them;
besides which, Bunera is quite worth seeing. It is a pretty town, situated on the
BUNERA. a

banks of a picturesque lake, on the slope of the hill, which is crowned by the
palace of the Rajahs of Bunera. The style of architecture is at once simple and
grand, it being built entirely of white marble, like the palace of Oudeypoor.

The Rajah sent his kamdar (minister, or man of business) to give me notice of
his intended visit, and shortly afterwards he himself arrived at my camp, accom-
panied by an escort of nobles. At a few steps from my tent, which was pitched
near the bungalow, he dismounted from his horse, and advanced towards me.
We saluted, after the ancient custom, and I did the honours of my canvas dwell-
ing. After a long chat, I in my turn accompanied him to his castle, where
I passed most of the evening. The next day we went for a wild-boar hunt, and
the evening was brought to a close with Nautch dances and other amusements.
Here I again met with the etiquette of the Court of Oudeypoor, and also that
grace of manner which characterises the Rajpoot nobles. I must con‘ess that it
is very rare to meet with incivility of any sort among the Rajpoots, provided you

 

BUNERA,”

are yourself polite; but it is very easy to prejudice them against you, if you are
not acquainted with their manners and language. It would be impossible for me
to find fault with the hospitality of the Rajpoots; although it is quite true that I
possessed very influential recommendations, and, where many others might have
found difficulties in travelling, I was sure of being surrounded with every
comfort. The ready reception which I met with throughout Meywar was no
doubt due to my introductions.

March 22nd.—After a march of eleven miles across a parched and arid coun-
try, we reached the bungalow of Dabla. We were obliged to pitch our camp
round the house itself, there being no more trees here than in the Desert of
Sahara. The sorry-looking huts which form the village are grouped round a half-
INDIA.

212

ruined and picturesque fort. The Thakour who resides here came and paid us a
visit. He was a wild-looking Rahtore, apparently in poor circumstances. Dabla,
however, a frontier town of northern Meywar, played a part in the history of
these last centuries. When hemmed in by five thousand Mahrattas, the grand-
father of the present chief made such a gallant defence that the assailants were
obliged to retreat. Proud of his success, the fiery Rahtore thought to become
independent, and refused to pay tribute to his suzerain, the Rajah of Bunera; but
the Rana interfered, and the poor Thakour was obliged to surrender his cannon
and nearly the whole of his revenues. His successor is now nothing more than a
small village chief.

I had to listen to the complaints of the chief, who regretted the good old
times when he was able to wage war at his pleasure, and when the cannons of
his fort commanded the whole commercial route from Ajmere. I consoled him,
to the best of my ability, by telling him that the Europeans would one day
make up for the losses he had sustained by fertilising and enriching his

country.
CHAPTER XVII.

THE PROVINCE OF A}MERE.

Bunai.—Nusserabad.—Morning in the Aravalis. —Ajmere.—The Bazaars—The Lake.—The
Shrine of Khoja Syud.—The Arai-din-ka-J hopra,—The Fortress of Teragurh,

ae’ ARCH 23nrp.—The province of Ajmere, which we entered this
morning, is almost the only portion of Rajpootana proper that
the English possess. It has belonged to them simply since
@ the year 1818. Having been in the possession of the Mogul
%: emperors since the fifteenth century, it fell into the power of

ie the Mahratta kings of Gwalior.* This important province is
bounded by the kingdoms of Mey war, Marwar, Jeypore, and Kislargurh, its length
being eighty miles from the Aravalis to the Bunas, and its width forty miles from
Ajmere to the Kahri Nadi. The first town we reached was Deorah, situated on
the outskirts of immense fertile plains. Many herds of antelopes were visible on
all sides, and we managed to kill several before we reached the bungalow of
Bunai. This little town occupies the centre of a valley formed by hills com-
paratively small, but which, being formed of immense blocks of granite, and being
isolated in their position, have a grand appearance. A narrow gorge leads into
the valley, and the road is commanded by the ancient castle of the Rajah of
Bunai, which is built on the summit of a crag. The Rajah of Bunai is a
descendant of the ancient Purihara dynasty of Mundore. Around the shores
of a-picturesque lake are ranged the cenotaphs of the princes of this family.
The town consists entirely of huts built of mud and wood, and surrounded by a
high wall of clay mixed with straw; it has anything but the bright and
pleasant appearance of the towns of Meywar, with their brick walls and tiled
roofs. The perpendicular sides of the mountain rise beyond the walls, and
enormous rocks seem to threaten the houses beneath them with utter destruction.
A Pir, or Mussulman saint, in the olden time, had taken up his abode on the
summit of this precipice, and his shrine is to this day a great place of resort
for pilgrims.

On the morning of the 24th of March we reached Nusserabad, one of the
most important military stations that the English have established in Rajpootana.
The cantonments had a miserable appearance, having been desolated by the rebels
in 1857, when they got possession of them and tore up the trees and destroyed
the gardens, transforming the place into a wilderness. They have repaired these

 

* Ajmere and the district were ceded to the British by Dowlut Rao Scindia, in 1818, in exchange for
other territory in Malwa.—Eb.
214 INDIA.
ravages as much as possible ; but it will take a long time to restore the gardens,
trees, and the former neatness. The soil, parched by a burning sun and deprived
of the shade which is so necessary in that climate, has become hard and sterile.
But, if the station of Nusserabad looks wretched, it is by no means wretched in
reality: having a large garrison, and being near Ajmere, it contains a European
society of some importance, which does its best to enjoy itself.

It appears that they very seldom see strangers there, so that the arrival of
our caravan, crossing the whole camp and installing itself without a word, created
quite a sensation. During the day several of the curious came and examined us
at closer quarters and walked round our bungalow. Our appearance.and costume,
and the armed men who surrounded us, caused the most absurd conjectures con-
cerning us: by some we were put down as Russian spies. At last, however, the
magistrate of the camp, Captain Sh , accompanied by one of his friends,
devoted himself to discovering who we were, and paid us a visit. After a few
explanations we had a good laugh over the mistake, and the captain left us, after
having invited us to dinner the next day.

Indeed, we were obliged to remain some days to avail ourselves of the
invitations which poured in upon us; and so I had one more proof that there are
few countries where travellers are treated with more disinterested courtesy and
kindness than in the English cantonments of India. We also made a short
hunting-excursion with some officers into the Aravalis, from which we returned
laden with booty. The plains which surrounded the camp were, as I have before
mentioned, rich in game of all sorts, and the ravines of the great chain of mountains
contain several kinds of wild beasts. Hunting and shooting are naturally the
chief occupations of the officers, who have very little else to do; and every year
they organise regular expeditions, in which they exterminate large quantities of
tigers, panthers, bears, &c. These expeditions form a theme of conversation for
the whole year, and are not wanting in dramatic episodes to interest the hearer.
In fact, rarely does one of these hunting-excursions take place without some
serious accident, for a wounded tiger at bay is an animal as dangerous and bold
as he is cowardly and timid when he can escape by flight. I think I have
already mentioned that this animal rarely charges the hunters, unless he is
wounded. We thus passed the five days of our stay at Nusserabad very
agreeably.

On the 30th of March we started for Ajmere, distant from us about fifteen
miles. Scarcely had we left Nusserabad when the road led us into the mountains,
and we were soon in the midst of the Aravalis. The sun rose as we passed the
first defiles, and added to the beauty of the country. Sharp peaks rose on all
sides of us, torn into strange forms, between which the precipices, still plunged in
obscurity, formed many an abyss; and the luminous rays of the sun, intercepted
by the points of the rocks, formed rosy halos round the lofty summits. Enormous
cacti, the only vegetation in these ravines, grew here and there in fantastic groups;
and on the plateaux, a few large shrubs, flaming with their bunches of scarlet
flowers, rose above the low jungle. Partridges, hidden amongst the herbage, were
saluting the rising sun with their sharp cries; and once or twice a peacock flew
off at our approach, and passed before us like a sheaf of glittering emeralds. The
freshness of the morning, the songs of the birds, and the splendid view made
us forget all our past fatigues; every one was gay, and my men chatted and

 
HOSPITALITY. 215

laughed, for we were approaching the end of our journey, and they would soon
be able to return to’their homes. On rounding a point we caught a glimpse of
Ajmere and its celebrated fortress of Teraghur. It was a splendid view; the
white houses of the town appeared framed in a thick belt of verdure, like an oasis
in the midst of a desert of piled-up rocks and mountains.

A valley still separated us from it, and it took us two good hours to pass it,
with a broiling sun on our backs, which made it look less picturesque than it
was a short time before. On approaching the town, one might have fancied
oneself on the outskirts of Grasse or Nice. The country was covered with
flowers, and there were fields of roses which produce the famous attar.

At nine o'clock we passed beneath one of the ancient gateways of Ajmere,
and our caravan defiled through some narrow and picturesque bazaars, the aspect
of which reminded me of Cairo. But our principal desire was to get a lodging.
There was no Rana here to lend us a palace, nor was there even a bungalow,
for travellers were so rare that the town did not possess one. As we were
supplied with letters of introduction to the governor of the province, Major
Davidson, we could, if all other means failed, have claimed his hospitality ;
but it is rather disagreeable to go unexpected to a man’s house with about fifty
men. I remembered, however, that Major Nixon had advised me, if I found
myself in trouble, to go to a Jain banker, Seth Pertab Mull by name, using his
name as an introduction. I asked the first person I met to show me where the
Seth lived, and after passing through several wide and handsome streets, delight-
fully clean, we reached the abode of the banker. His servants received us very
civilly, and I was soon shown into the presence of the Seth, a man of about
forty years of age, with a most pleasing and intelligent countenance. I had
scarcely explained the object of my visit, when, without giving me time to make
my excuses for thus troubling him, he gave immediate orders that one of his
houses should be put at our disposal; and then with much kindness he begged
us not to thank him, assuring us that he was much obliged for the honour we
did him, and advised us to rest after our long journey. Half an hour after we
were installed in a charming little Indian house, away from the bazaars, in the
suburbs of the town. The servants sent by the Seth had arranged everything
for our reception, having hung up curtains and laid down carpets and divans. A
large orchard surrounded our dwelling, planted with orange, pomegranate, citron,
and all the odoriferous trees of these favoured regions, while a stream of running
water wound along beneath their branches, and caused a delicious freshness.
All ‘this, as Pertab Mull informed us, was our property for any length of time
that it might please us to remain and enjoy it.

Let people accuse the Hindoos of not understanding hospitality! It may
be very true of the proud Baboo from the banks of the Ganges, or of the super-
stitious Dekkani, who ‘would let you die rather than receive you into their home,
but assuredly not of the inhabitants of noble Rajesthan, whether they be rajpoots,
’ merchants, or peasants.

My first act at Ajmere was to dismiss the escort which the Rana had given
me, and to let him know of the manner in which I had been received along my
route; and I then informed Major Davidson of my arrival. He immediately
sent one of his carriages, and gave me every facility for prosecuting my researches
in the town and its environs. Itis almost needless for me to say that I found him
216 INDIA.

as agreeable and kind as all the English Residents with whom I had ‘had any
intercourse. During our stay at Ajmere, he neglected nothing which would
enable us to carry away a pleasant and lasting iemiembranee of him. Ajmere
is a town of great antiquity. It was founded in the first century of our era by
the Chohan Ae Pal, whom legends affirm to have been a shepherd. He built
the famous fortress which comminnda the town; after which he gradually gained
possession of the surrounding country, till iis became a powerful sovereign,
From that fact is derived the name of the town, which is called by some “Aja
Mer,’ “the Mountain of the Shepherd;” by others “Aji Mer,” “the Invincible
Mountain.” We find that in the year 685 one of his descendants, Doula Rae
by name, was killed in the first Mussulman invasion, and his citadel taken.
His brother, however, Manika Rae, drove out the invaders. In the year 1191,
the Sultan Shah al Oudin again took possession of Ajmere; and in 1559 Akber
rejoined the province to the empire.

Ajmere is built in a lovely valley. One side of the town lies on the edge
of a magnificent lake, the Ana Sagur, which is several miles in circumference,
and the other rests against the side of a high mountain, on which stands the
fortress of Teraghur. The beauty of its situation, and the excellence of its
climate, soon made it the favourite resort of the Mogul emperors, and the valley
became filled with their palaces and gardens. One of the most beautiful is the
Daolat Bagh, or “Garden of Splendour,” which was built in the sixteenth
century by the Emperor Jehanghir, and now serves as the abode of the English
governor. Elegant marble pavilions stand on the very edge of the lake, and
command the incomparable view of the town and the mountains reflected as in
a crystal mirror. The garden itself is of great extent, and full of venerable
trees, beneath whose shade the haughty Jehanghir received the ambassador of an
English sovereign.

The lake, like all those in this part of India, is formed by damming up the
course of a river; and this immense embankment was made by King Ana Deva,
in the eleventh century. Ajmere can boast of two other lakes, of smaller
dimensions, one of which, called Bisila Tal, was made in the ninth century by
King Visala Deva, and is situated to the east of the town. It contains a little
island covered with ruins, and washes the foot of a lofty pile of rocks, on the
summit of which stands the celebrated hermitage, Khojah Koutub.

The town is surrounded by ramparts, built by the Emperor Jehanghir, which
are carried along the crest of the neighbouring hills on one side, and join the
citadel of Teraghur. Eight large and beautiful gates give access to the interior.
A strong castle, which includes a huge palace and barracks for the garrison,
defends the town on the side towards the plain; but the inconvenient arrange-
ment of these buildings shows that they were destined to be used only in case
of necessity, and even then the perils of a siege would render the elegant pavilions
of the Ana Sagur uninhabitable. In truth, this castle has nothing worthy of
remark except a magnificent gateway, a pointed arch surmounted by turrets and
kiosks, which opens on one of the principal roads.

Ajmere ranks next after Jeypore for possessing the most beautiful bazaars of
any town in Rajpootana, which advantage it owes to the English. They are
fine highways, open, wide, and edged with pavement; the ground floors of the
houses being shops, regular in form, and having their fronts carefully kept and
THE BAZAARS OF A$MERE. 217

ornamented with balconies and verandahs. The houses of the rich are built of
white marble, and some of them are of peerless beauty. Amongst others, the
palace of the Seths, belonging to some bankers, is a marvellous building, which,
although quite modern, may be ranged*with the most beautiful productions of
Rajpoot art. Balconies supported by columns and carved cornices adorn the
front, every detail of which is executed with admirable care and taste. But this
is not the only palace. Ajmere is the Frankfort of Rajesthan, and its numerous
Rothschilds have rivalled each other in enriching it with superb monuments.
All the houses are, as a rule, well built; and there are few towns in the world
which have such a coquettish appearance as Ajmere, with its numberless terraces
and its walls of marble or brilliant stucco. Beside these great boulevards,
the work of the English, is a picturesque confusion of narrow and tortuous
bazaars, where a noisy crowd continually comes and goes. There is the real
Ajmere for an artist. No town in the Kast, not even Cairo itself, can offer such
a picturesque and original sight. All the races of India elbow each other in
these streets, which are narrow, and which form the principal market-place of a
large tract of country; and the most various manufactures are spread out beneath
the sombre stone arches of the stalls. You cannot think how amusing it is. to
walk through these bazaars. During my stay, I employed my mornings in
wandering about, alone and on foot, through the midst of this good-natured
crowd, and every day showed me something new and curious. I used to stop
in front of the stalls, and chat with the men, who were always polite and civil.
The jeweller, perched on his bench, on to which he has to climb by means of a
ladder, is invariably a man of high caste, with naked body bound with the sacred
cord, and occupies himself in chiselling the most beautiful jewels, which would
delight the hearts of the Parisian ladies; his nose supporting a enormous pair
of spectacles, which are indispensable to the dignity of a master goldsmith.
Around him his workmen, probably his sons, mould or forge the precious metals.
If I happened to speak a word to him, the good fellow, proud of my visit, would
take off his spectacles, salute me, and spread before me his riches, taken from an
iron box, explaining the smallest details of their manufacture with great com-
placency, and allowing me to choose some small trinket without annoying me by
over-pressing offers.

Next him is the bracelet-maker, sitting before a fire, at which he melts his
lacker, red or green, as the case may be, which he spreads over a conical mould.
Dividing this with a sharp knife into narrow circles, it cools suddenly, and thus
produces about twenty light rings. The bracelet-makers’ wives assist them in the
manufacture, and try the rings on the purchasers. There are no girls or married
women of any rank or caste who do not wear several of these rings ; sometimes
the whole forearm is covered with them; and, being as fragile as they are cheap,
there is a good trade in them. A little farther on I came to the musical-instru-
ment makers, who manufacture great guitars, viols, and tom-toms. Then there
are the coppersmiths, seated amidst piles of copper vessels of all shapes and sizes,
from the dota to the amphora one yard in diameter.

Sometimes a whole street is inhabited solely by shoemakers, dyers, or potters,
who, without appearing to mind this competition, exhibit their goods side by side.
The bazaars of the cloth trade and manufactured stuffs of all kinds are the most
aristocratic. These shops are clean and well lighted, and the merchants, seated on
gad INDIA.

cushions of dazzling whiteness, gravely await customers, while their clerks scribble
figures from morning to night on interminable rolls of paper. In the midst of
the gay crowd which fills these streets, there are a great many pedlars, whose
cries reminded me of those of the Parisian cheap-jacks. They offer you balls of
milk and sugar, besides vegetables, knives, and betel leaves, and do all they can to
impede your progress and to increase the hubbub.

The women are not timid, and do not hide themselves, as in other towns,
from the Europeans. They are pretty, and seem to enjoy great liberty. The
Mussulman women are easily recognised by their tight trousers, which are not
particularly decent, and seem to be a most curious fashion amongst so jealous a
people. The Hindoos wear the kangra, a pretty short petticoat, and the sarri or
scarf, which form a most picturesque costume.

Ajmere, having been for a long time in the hands of the Mussulmans, contains
a few relics of its former masters, who, according to tradition, had made it a
most marvellous town. The only remains which allow one to judge of the splen-
dour of that epoch are those of the Arai-din-ka-Jhopra, which stands at the foot .
of Teraghur, and of which I will speak further on. As to monuments we
found none, even in the town, except the shrine of Khoja Syud. It is, however,
one of the places which are most celebrated and venerated in the Mussulman
religion; in fact, it may be regarded as the Mecca of India. The shrine, or
mausoleum, contains the remains of the great saint Khoja Motmoudin Shisti,
Kadir Wala, commonly called Khoja Syud, the first missionary of the Koran to
the infidel inhabitants of Ajmere. He was born in the year 527 of the Hegira in
Sijisthan, and came to Ajmere with the conqueror Koutub. He married the
daughter of Houssain Mashaeli, and remained in Ajmere till the day of his death,
which took place, according to tradition, at the venerable age of one hundred and
eight years. His life was entirely spent in performing acts of piety and miracles,
which form the basis of thousands of legends, all of which are more or less
fabulous. After his death, the monarchs of India surrounded his tomb with
every marvel of art, and the Emperor Jehanghir, in 1610, built this splendid
mausoleum to his memory.

The entrance to the shrine is situated at the extremity of a long bazaar, which
runs the whole length of the town. Several monumental gateways, marble domes,
and mosques can be seen above the exterior line of walls, and stand out against
the huge grey mountain which rises like a pyramid behind them. I went to visit
the shrine with a letter of recommendation from the governor; who, however, told
me that I must not expect to be treated politely, for as a rule Europeans are
not allowed to enter it. I was stopped at the first gate by a group of sombre
and fanatical-looking men, who told me, in no measured terms, that I could go
no farther without first taking off my boots. Having made up my mind to see
everything, I immediately obeyed their commands; and, with only my socks on
my feet, I followed one of the moolahs, who offered himself as my guide. We
entered a great court paved with white material, so perfectly polished that the
sun shone on it as on smooth water. On all sides stood mosques and tombs of
dazzling whiteness ; and in the centre, surrounded by a beautiful group of trees,
was the mausoleum, as white as its surroundings.

The few trees planted amongst these marble walls cast a soft and cool shade,
and changed the court, from a lugubrious mass of tombs, into a fresh and
THE ARAI-DIN-KA-JHOPRA. 219
beautiful paradise. The most profound silence reigned, rendered more striking by
the low chanted prayers of a few aged moollahs, who were prostrated on the
ground. I sat down beneath a tree, and my guide allowed me to enjoy my
reverie. I have seen few places more%harming than this shrine. It was with
great difficulty I obtained leave to take a photograph of it. When I asked the
guide to bring my apparatus into the sacred court, he was much shocked, and at
first refused point blank; at last, however, he allowed me to take up a position
on the edge of the deep ravine, which separates the shrine from the base of the
mountain. I believe he was scolded by the high priest for even this concession ;
but photographers are pitiless, and I kept my negative. I was not allowed to
approach the saint’s tomb; but I could see from a distance a massive silver
shrine, placed under a canopy of cloth of gold, where were deposited the precious
relics which so many thousands of pilgrims come every year to adore. There is
a grand festival held in the shrine, called Ursi-Kadir Walla, at which multitudes
of the faithful are sometimes present. Every one comes to ask some favour of
Khoja Syud, and returns the following year either to renew his demand or to
leave his votive offering in gratitude.

From the shrine of Khoja Syud I went to the mosque of Arai-din-ka-Jhopra ;
the ruins of which stand picturesquely in the midst of a small wood, in one of the
ravines, which descend from the summit of Teraghur at a short distance from the
town walls. This celebrated mosque is one of the most remarkable monuments
in India, as much from its magnificence as from its archeological importance. It
is, at the same time, one of the finest buildings erected by the Mussulmans, and
one of the most beautiful specimens of Jain architecture of the earliest period.
This extraordinary juxtaposition of two kinds of architecture so very dissimilar is

- easily explained. When the Mahometans first invaded India, they only thought
of pillaging and destroying, without for a moment considering how they were to
replace the magnificence they were overturning. But when they had become
masters of the country, and wished to establish themselves firmly in it, their first
emperors hastened to build temples to the true God, and, having no architects,
were obliged to entrust the work to the Hindoos. The palaces of the ancient
kings, and the wonderful temples of their predecessors, furnished them with an
inexhaustible supply of materials. They only had, therefore, to destroy the idols,
make a few characteristic alterations, and to give the final stamp to the mosque
by adding a front of pointed arches. One may say that such was the origin of
this grand style of architecture, which some call the Indo-Saracen, and to which
India owes some of its most marvellous productions.

The first emperor who proceeded thus appears to have been Koutub Oudin
Eibeck, to whom are attributed the mosques of Ajmere and of the old town of
Delhi. His successors imitated him at Ahmedabad, Mandoo, Canoujé, &c.

The “ Arai-din-ka-Jhopra,” or “ Work of two days and a half,” stands on a
high terrace, formerly approached by a wide flight of stone steps, which have now
disappeared, and are replaced by one of carved lintels and the shafts of columns.
The aspect of these ruins is very picturesque ; bushy trees surrounding the base
of the terrace, and preventing anything being seen from outside, except the
sculptured roof of the mosque. An elegant gate in the Jain style, adapted to
Islamism, that is to say, presenting certain Arab characters and symbols in the
midst of flowers and ordinary subjects, gives access to a large square court, from
536 INDIA.

which most of the pavement has disappeared. The mosque occupies the side of
the court opposite to this gate; but the front is almost hidden by a screen of
trees and a low modern wall which spoils the effect; and long cloisters occupy
the other three sides, surmounted by massive pavilions of a heavy style of archi-
tecture. These buildings, which contain vast apartments, used to be joined, on
the south side, to the palace of the Ghorian emperors, of which numerous ruins
still exist. One cannot see the whole of the mosque through the trees, till he
has entered the little enclosure. In the centre of the fagade is the principal
gateway, formed of a pointed arch of great height; and on each side is a row of
smaller arches, somewhat different in style, and not nearly so high, There are
altogether seven arches, each one of which is consecrated to one of the days of the
week. This frontage is built of a hard and close-grained sandstone. The whole
of the exterior is covered with a network of sculptures, so finely and delicatély
wrought that they can only be compared to fine lace. The frames of the doors
are formed of bands of Arabian letters, carved in relief on an arabesque ground,
which has a beautiful effect.

The whole of the exterior part is the work of Jain architects and sculptors;
who, however, took their ideas from the Mussulmans; and one can see that they
were bothered by many of the details. For example, being ignorant of the
radiant arch, they have replaced it with an arch of horizontal courses, converging
to the apex. You may admire this style of architecture, but, if you pass the
Friday gate and enter the great hall, you must acknowledge that this Jain work
of the fourteenth century is far superior. If you admire the front for its
grandeur and the fineness of its ornaments, the interior will astonish you by its
magnificence. It is impossible to conceive anything more beautiful than this
long hall, the roof of which is composed of a brilliant mass of sculptures, and
rests on four rows of the most graceful pillars. The central nave is roofed with
Jain domes, formed of concentric courses, the bases of which are hidden behind
sculptured cornices, projecting towards the centre, and overlapping each other.
From the centre of the vault projects a heavy stone pendentive, carved in open
work like a Chinese rattle. The side aisles only have ceilings, divided into
compartments and beautifully carved. Each one of these domes and ceilings is
composed of different designs; and I am persuaded that, if any one would take
the trouble to reproduce this marvellous dome in all its details, he could form
such an album of Indian ornamentation as has never existed. The pillars also
are of the most superior Jain style; and their slender forms, and the manner in
which they are arranged, give the hall a much grander appearance than the
temples of this sect generally possess. The most remarkable thing about them
is, that, although they are all symmetrical, they differ very much in their details.
They all, however, have the base of the leaves of the Cawacumpa palm, with the
strings of pearls and the chain supporting a bell, which are the distinctive symbols
of this style of architecture. There is no inscription in the temple which might
determine the date of its construction, although in the outer wall built by Koutub
there is a slab of black marble, on which a few lines of Sanscrit, now illegible,
are engraved. Tod supposes that it was built by King Swamprithi, two centuries
before Christ, and bases his supposition on the resemblance of this temple to a
sanctuary at Komulmair, which is attributed to that prince. I think it more
likely that it was built about the fourth century of our era, which was the epoch
THE ARAI-DIN-KA-$HOPRA. 221

when the Jain architecture, being definitely separated from that of the Buddhists,
began to form a separate style in itself; for otherwise, if we keep the date of
Swamprithi, we must consider the Arai-din-ka-Jhopra as a Buddhist building.

MOSQUE OF THE ARAI-DIN-KA-JHOPRA, AT AJMERE.

 

At any rate, the temple of Ajmere, transformed by Koutub into a mosque, is a
double masterpiece, considerably more interesting than its rival in old Delhi; and
it is a pity to see it falling into ruins. In a few years nothing will remain of it,
222 INDIA.
and a monument will have perished which was able to inspire the invaders with
respect and admiration. The only part in tolerable repair is the hall of Friday,
where an old moolah, mounted on a stone platform, chants passages from the
Koran every day. This is all that is left of the magnificent mosque of Koutub.

From there I wished to visit the ancient palace of the Chohan kings, the
towers and walls of which, built by Aja Pal, rose a thousand feet above my head;
and accordingly I undertook the ascent of the Teraghur. ‘The hill is very steep,
and the ascent difficult; but as I rose my horizon extended itself, and the beauty
of the panorama increased. From the summit of the ramparts one has a bird’s-
eye view of the whole of this beautiful valley, a veritable vasis hidden in the
midst of a belt of naked rocks and vast plains of sand. Towards the west a long
yellowish vein marks the desert of Thoul, the Marousthan, or Kingdom of Death
The view is sublime and striking from the contrast, and it is well worth the
trouble of the ascent. As for monuments, one has to be contented with a small
musjid, whitewashed all over, and with the great buildings of the English sana-
torium ; for there is no trace of the glorious palaces of the Chohans. The air is
very pure at this height, and the temperature is moderate all the year round.
The English have, therein, established here a hospital station, to which the men
of the garrisons of Nusserabad and Ajmere go to recruit their health from the |
scorching heat of the plains. The sides of the Teraghur are rich in all sorts of
minerals, and I heard that several lead and tin mines discovered lately had
already shown good results. The suburbs of the town are full of charming sites
and interesting walks. What especially give a peculiar stamp to the villages in
this valley are the monumental baolis, which may be seen near most of them.
These baolis differ from those I saw at Tintoui, among the Bheels, of which I
have already given a description. Here, instead of being simple springs, they
consist of large ponds fed by subterranean springs, and the surface of the water
is always several yards below the level of the plain; the sides of these vast
excavations are formed of elegant buildings, on stages one above the other, rising
thus above the surface of the ground. In fact, these baolis produce the effect of
a house, which one enters through the roof, and of which one sees the court down
below in the centre. These magnificent structures are generally built by the rich
and charitable merchants, and serve as dhurmsalas, or free asylums for travellers.
Tn consequence you may see them, at all hours of the day, full of pilgrims who
are on their way to Poshkur; the galleries being occupied by a curious and
motley crowd, and the banks of the pond covered with naked men and women
performing their ablutions. Water and shade, these are the two greatest boons
to the poor traveller in India, who never forgets to pray for the beneficent donor.

All these curiosities of Ajmere detained us for ten days, during which Major
Davidson and the few Europeans living there contributed not a little to our
enjoyment and amusement. Our visit, however, came to an end, and we had to
reorganise a new caravan to take us to Jeypore, which was no easy affair, for we
had no rajah this time to furnish us with camels and soldiers; but the English
authorities assisted us, and I managed at last to get together the necessary
number of beasts of burthen, and two very inferior dromedaries to carry our-
selves. We did without an escort, as the road was considered quite safe.
CHAPTER XVIII.
POSHKUR AND KISHENGURH.

The Sacred Lake of Poshkur.—Prodigality of Rajpoot Princes—Temple of Brahma.—Pilgrims
and Brahmins.—The Naga Pahar.—The Desert.—Kishengurh,—A Misunderstanding.—The
Mirage.—Salt Hills,

~N the 11th of April we marched towards Poshkur, a sacred oasis
situated on the edge of the desert, nine miles to the west of
Ajmere. We made the circuit of the lake, passing through the
pleasant-looking suburbs formed by the villas which cover the
banks of the Ana Sagur; on the other side of which rises a wall
~ of rock, 500 feet high, which is crossed by a ghat, impracticable
for carriages. Blocks of black marble and enormous roots of fig-trees obstructed
the road, along which our camels advanced with difficulty ; and trees of great age,
and gigantic cacti which have grown up in the midst of this chaos, gave an
appearance of wild grandeur to the place. The crest of the mountain consists of
a perpendicular wall, sixty feet in breadth, through which runs the road, originally
a natural fissure in the rock, enlarged for this purpose. Before entering this
narrow passage, we took a farewell look at Ajmere, whose houses and gardens
covered the opposite banks of the lake, rising one above the other like an
amphitheatre on the slopes of the beautiful Teraghur. It is impossible to imagine
a more striking contrast than that which existed between this panorama and the
country which met our view on the other side of the defile. Hills of sand rise on
all sides up to the very summit of the Aravalis, and seem as though endeavouring
to cross this barrier, which alone prevents them from overrunning the valley of
Ajmere; the desert stretches to the horizon; and here and there jagged peaks,
blackened as if by fire, break the monotony of its undulating surface. The sun
disappeared as we entered the plain, and we did not reach Poshkur until nightfall;
when we were conducted to the governor’s bungalow, which Major Davidson had
very kindly placed at our disposal, and where we were very comfortably lodged.
One of the most sacred lakes in India is that of Poshkur, which is only
rivalled by the lake of Mansourwar, in Thibet. It is situated in a narrow valley
surrounded by immense mounds of shifting sand; and a few isolated peaks stand
out on its borders with great effect. Its form is nearly a perfect oval, and at its
southern extremity it empties itself by a narrow canal into an immense marsh.
-The origin of this lake is attributed to the god Bramah. The story goes that the
god, wishing to celebrate the sacrifice of Yug, stopped for that purpose in the
valley, having first placed genii at the entrance of all the passes to keep off the

 
224 INDIA,

evil spirits. Just as he was going to perform the ceremony, he perceived that hig
wife Saravasti had not accompanied him ; and, as the presence of a@ woman was
necessary, he employed one of the Apsaras. Saravasti was so grieved at this
infidelity that she hid herself in the mountains to weep, and was transformed into
a fountain. Several centuries after, one of the Purihara kings of Mundore lost his
way while hunting, and, feeling thirsty, came to drink at the fountain of Saravasti,
He felt himself instantaneously healed of a disease previously incurable, and re-
cognised the miraculous property of the spring. Shortly afterwards he returned,
and had a basin dug out to receive the waters, which now form the lake of
Poshkur.

This lake soon became a favourite resort of pilgrims, and during the Middle
Ages the princely families of India vied with one another in covering its banks
with temples and cenotaphs. Gradually quite a town of religious buildings sprang
up, peopled by Brahmins. The wealthy pilgrims from all parts of India brought
untold riches to Poshkur, and the princes spared no expense to enrich the holy
inhabitants of the sacred town. ‘Tod gives us an anecdote which the Brahmins
never fail to relate to visitors, showing to what a pitch the folly of the Hindoo
princes was carried in their ostentatious charity. The kings of Jeypore and
Joudpore, always rivals in war, love, or folly, were in the habit of making an
annual pilgrimage to Poshkur. On their arrival, they each ordered some scales to
be filled with precious things, such as jewels, gold, and costly materials, which
were piled up until the amount equalled their own weight; and the whole
was then distributed among the Brahmins. The King of Jeypore had the
advantage of possessing a well-filled treasury and a rich country, while his
rival, on the other hand, being chief of a race of warriors, and of vast domains,
received but a scanty revenue from lands barely reclaimed from the desert; but at
Poshkur riches carried the day against valour. One day, when the two princes
were in the scales, the Rajah of Jeypore made a cutting remark on the poverty
of the offerings of his relation and rival; and by the advice of his minister, a
very intelligent man, the Rahtore Rajah defied the other ever to make as great
a concession to the Brahmins as he would. The challenge was accepted: upon
which the Rahtore exclaimed, “ All the lands in my kingdom, occupied at this
moment by Brahmins, shall be sahswn* from henceforth and for ever!” His
rival of Jeypore was about to outdo him, when his minister, throwing himself
before him, prevented him from uttering the words which would irreparably have
ruined his kingdom. The monuments erected by the princes and rich nobles
for so many centuries now form a triple circle round the lake, in which every
style of architecture may be found. This picturesque collection of porticos,
rounded domes, and pagodas, grouped so closely together that not the smallest
space remains unoccupied, is quite unique of its kind. There was such an in-
satiable demand for this sacred ground that the architects appear to have taken
advantage of some extraordinarily dry season to advance into the very bed of the
lake, The successive risings of the water, which has regained and even overflowed
the original banks, have immersed a considerable number of these monuments, of
which nothing can now be seen but the domes, or sometimes only the gilded
gables; and the Brahmins have recently besought the English, who are the present

* Religious property.
TEMPLE OF BRAHMA, 225

possessors of the land, to construct a canal to carry off the surplus waters, so that
the lake may always remain of the same level.

Among the most curious temples are those erected by the kings, Maun Sing of
Jeypore, Jowahir Mull of Bhurtpore, anf Bijy Sing of Marwar, and the famous
Aheluja Bai, Holkar’s queen; but, in fact, there is not one amongst the innumer-
able temples of Poshkur which does not merit consideration, or recall some great
name in the history of Rajwara.

 

TEMPLES ON THE SHORE OF THE LAKE OF POSHKUr.

Poshkur also has the honour of possessing the temple dedicated to Brahma.
It is situated on the summit of a mound overlooking the lake, and built on a
terrace flanked by embattled towers, and is approached by a handsome flight of
steps leading from the foot of the hill to the principal entrance. The sanctuary
is very richly built of marble, in the usual pyramidical form, and stands in the
centre of a small court, surrounded by the building occupied by the priests. In
front of the temple are two marble elephants and a few well-executed statues.

The chief interest connected with this building is the fact of its being the only
P
226 INDIA.

temple dedicated to the god who was the founder of the religion. It was built
by Gokul Pauk, Scindia’s minister.

One of the pundits employed in the worship of the idol was most solicitous to
explain to me the reason why Brahma, the God of Gods, and the Supreme Being,
should be so universally banished from his altars; and, as it is little known, I
will give his statement nearly word for word.

“The eternal and infinite Mahadera, the Saturn of India, was the first of the
Gods, although he only occupies the third place in the Trinity. The God of
Preservation had reposed for infinite ages beneath the waves, asleep on the bosom
of Vishnu, the Genius of Destruction, when a lotus-flower sprang from his navel,
and, growing rapidly, soon reached the surface of the ocean, which yet surrounded
the universe. The calyx then opened, and Brahma appeared, seated in the centre.
The God gazed around, contemplating the immensity of space, and, seeing no other
creature, concluded that he must be the first of all things, the God of Gods.
Troubled, however, by this mysterious solitude, he decided to leave the lotus-flower ;
and, sliding down the stem, he found Vishnu. Astonished, it seems, at this meet-
ing, he unceremoniously woke him, and asked him who he was. Vishnu at once
replied that he was the first of the Gods; but Brahma considered that he alone
was entitled to this distinction : whereupon a dispute arose between them, which at
length came to blows. The universe was in imminent danger of annihilation,
when Mahadera, roused by the altercation, interposed between the two Gods. He
showed them the folly of their dispute, since he himself was the first of the Gods;
but he promised that the one who should first discover the origin of the Deity
should be eternally recognised as the sovereign of the universe. Brahma and
Vishnu then set off in different directions, and, after a long and fruitless search,
again appeared before Mahadera. Vishnu humbly avowed his want of success;
but Brahma boasted of having discovered the origin of the Infinite, gave imaginary
details, and brought as a witness to the truth of his assertion the first-created
cow, who supported her master’s false statements. Enraged by this falsehood,
Mahadera drew his sword and cut off one of Brahma’s five heads, declaring that
he should never have either temple or worship. A malediction was pronounced
on the cow, who was condemned to lose the power of. speech, and to feed on
grass. He then told Vishnu that, as the reward of his wisdom, he should be
universally adored, and recognised as the first of the Gods, for he had acknowledged
that Infinity had no limits. However, as even Mahadera could not change the
decrees of Fate, master of the Gods and of mankind, Brahma still retained the
first rank; but the only temple dedicated to him was at Poshkur, although he
still continued to be universally worshipped through the medium of his per-
sonifications.”

This legend, rude though it be, may serve to explain the strife which existed
for so long a period between the three religions, and which only terminated with
the absorption and corruption of the religion of the Vedas by the ancient worship
of Siva and the more recent worship of Vishnu.

One of the largest temples at Poshkur, is that of Rama, which is moder,
having been finished only a few years since. It is a curious mixture of every
style of architecture, being surmounted by towers, placed close together like the
stlamba of the Jains, and by the minaret, which is the plan adopted in the Deccan.
The outside walls are in the Sikh style ; the architecture of the lateral buildings
TEMPLES AT POSHKUR. 227

is in the Rajpoot style. In spite of this want of harmony, the general appearance
is graceful and extremely picturesque. On the eastern shores of the lake are two
other temples,also modern, which may serve as types of the present styleof Rajesthan
architecture. The broad flights of steps Wading down to the water, and the light

 

 

TEMPLE OF RAMA, AT POSHKUR.

and graceful kiosks finished so elaborately, all combine to give them a much

pleasanter appearance than the sombre monuments of preceding centuries. .
Some great personages, who were desirous of laying their bones on the s ores

of the lake of Brahma, have thereon erected some superb cenotaphs ; of which
228 INDIA.

the most remarkable are those of Jey Appa and of Suntaji, which invite com-
parison with the most beautiful monuments of the Maha Sati at Oudeypoor.

The bungalow in which, with the permission of Major Davidson, we had
taken up our abode, was in the centre of the line of temples which cover the
northern banks of the lake; and it is impossible to imagine a better situation
from which to contemplate this marvellous coup dail. From our windows we
could see the lake, the Aravalis, and the desert, whose yellow hillocks showed
above the temples; nay, our view embraced even the marble ghats, thronged from
morning to night with a motley crowd of noisy pilgrims. I was never tired of
watching this brilliant and ever-varying scene.

Even before the sun appears above the far distant peaks on the horizon,
inhabitants and pilgrims all hasten to wash in the healing waters. A thousand
bathers appear and disappear among the limpid waves, defying the alligators, who,
frightened by the noise, keep at a distance. A bevy of young girls, covered
merely with gauze veils, disport themselves in the lake, in front of the temples
of Krishna, the God of Love, making the shores resound with their fresh ringing
laughter; and when from time to time they pause in their sport, and rise out of
the waves, with their hair streaming over their bare shoulders, one might easily
take them for the beautiful Apsaras, who were able to charm the divine Brahma,
The sun rises like a ball of fire from behind the glowing rocks, giving a marvellous
brilliancy to the white domes and spires. The pilgrims then throng the ghits,
and the multitude silently enters the water: it is the hour of prayer. Every
face is turned towards the rising orb, and the sacred rites commence. The person
initiated takes some water in the hollow of the hand, at the same time pronounc-
ing some orisons in a low voice; after which he throws the water towards the
sun, and towards the four points of the compass in succession. When the rite is
over, the noise recommences, and the scene becomes every moment more
animated.

The newly arrived pilgrim repairs forthwith to the gh4ts for the ceremony of
initiation, when fierce contention for possession of the client arises among the
Brahmins; each one of whom seizes the unfortunate traveller by some part of his
clothing, offering him a thousand advantages, and promising to perform the .
ceremony better and cheaper than his rival. Finally, the price is agreed upon,
and the whole party proceeds to bathe in the lake, when almost the same cere-
monies that take place in the morning are repeated. If by chance it is some rich
individual who comes to wash away his sins in the sacred waters, he is at once
surrounded by the Brahmins, who load him with flattery, and are as humble and
cringing to him as they are haughty and insolent to the poorer pilgrims. But
times have greatly altered. Even the kings of Rajesthan have become cold and
sceptical, and think more of filling their treasuries than of despoiling themselves
for the benefit of the Brahmins. The number of these latter is greatly increased,
and hence there is more competition. As anold priest said to me, “This kind of
thing does not answer in these days. One barely succeeds in gaining a liveli-
hood ; and the valley is in the hands of infidels.” They regret the good old
times, when the retinues of the rajahs filled the streets of the holy city, and gold
flowed in abundance on the quays; but I fear that those days will never return
for them. For all this, however, the money annually expended in Poshkur by
the pilgrims from all parts of India must still amount to a considerable sum.
A DESERT. 229

N ot far from Poshkur is the Naga Pahar, or the Rock of the Serpent, where
the ruins of the castle of Aja Pal may still be seen. Aja was but a humble
goatherd in the valley, and according to tradition received his kingdom from an
anchorite dwelling on the shores ofthe lake, who wished thus to reward him for
having brought him some milk one day when he was ill. Aja wished to establish
himself on the Serpent’s Rock ; but the Evil Spirit destroyed in the night what he
built during the day, and he was thus forced to seek refuge in the neighbouring
chain of mountains, where he founded Ajmere.

These mountains are intersected by numerous and picturesque ravines abound-
ing in springs, which have made them from time immemorial the favourite resort
of ascetics. The celebrated Bhirtrari, brother of King Vikramaditya, lived here in
retirement for many years, and pilgrims to this day go to kiss the marble slab on
which he used to sleep. The gardens and villas of the merchants of Ajmere now
occupy the sites of the ancient hermitages.

We left Poshkur on the 16th, before daybreak. A short distance from the
town there is a narrow valley, formed by two high mountain ranges running
parallel to each other; in which the wind has driven the sand with so much
violence that it is heaped up on either side to the very summit of the mountains.
This unstable ground seemed to suit our camels, who advanced swiftly with their
short elastic steps. The desert of Sahara does not present a more desolate appear-
ance than did the scene before us. A few stunted bushes, and here and there a
blackened rock, appeared above the waves of shifting sand, which was ploughed
into long furrows by the wind; and this dismal landscape was enlivened by a
herd of gazelles drinking at a clear pool of water, which, taking to flight at our
approach, disappeared among the sandy ravines. The first rays of the rising sun
suddenly lit up the rugged mountain-tops, and for a few minutes the scene was
grand; but the light soon overspread the whole landscape, which once more
became tame and desolate. On leaving the mountains we came upon a vast and
arid plain, extending to a long line of blue mountains, beyond which lies Kishen-
gurh. I shall never forget the interminable march across this desert. The sun
pouring down on the bare ground rendered the atmosphere stifling, while a hot
wind raised from time to time a cloud of fine dust which parched our throats and
brought the tears into our eyes. The heat was the more insupportable from the
fact of the morning having been so cold, and from my having consequently
dressed myself very warmly, thinking that we had but a short journey before us.
I had been informed, before leaving Poshkur, that Kishengurh was distant about
fourteen or fifteen miles ; but we found, after travelling for several hours, that the
mountains we had to reach seemed as far off as ever.

Near a miserable village we met a troop of pilgrims travelling from the
Ganges to Poshkur, who saluted us with the traditional “Sri Gunga Ji;” and
these good people told us that the distance from this village to Kishengurh was
fourteen miles, which makes the whole distance from Poshkur twenty-six miles.
In Europe this distance would be considered nothing; but in this country, where
the heat is so intense and one has to travel on hired camels, it is enough to try
the strongest constitution. During the rest of our journey we saw nothing to
interest us, except a few villages as unprepossessing as the surrounding country,
with almost exhausted cisterns, and large pits where garnets and carbuncles are
dug up. Our camels, which were heavily laden, went at a foot’s pace for the
230 INDIA.

last few miles of our journey; and it was nearly mid-day before we saw the
embattled walls of Kishengurh on a neighbouring height, after crossing a chain of
mountains which was the most disagreeable part of our journey. The town is
surrounded by a deserted waste, uninhabited save by a few pariah dogs and
buffaloes. Presently we saw a man on horseback come out of the nearest gate
and gallop towards us; who, on getting up to us, told us that the rajah, having
been informed by the authorities at Ajmere of our approach, had sent him to
meet us, and to conduct us to the apartments which had been prepared for us.
We immediately followed him, though unable to account for his sudden appear-
ance, or understand how he had recognised us as the expected travellers. He
made us alter our course; and, skirting the walls of the town, he conducted us
into a narrow ravine, where lay an enchanting garden surrounded by the bare
rocks. Here we found a pretty little kiosk, half hidden among groves of pome-
granate and orange trees, and with fountains playing on all sides, in which we
were comfortably installed; and a good cold bath, in addition to our breakfast,
soon made us forget the fatigues of our journey. About three o'clock we received
a deputation from the rajah, consisting of his moonshee, or secretary, and some of
his courtiers, who came to see that we had all we wanted, and to intimate that
the rajah would be happy to receive us the next day at the palace.

The principality of Kishengurh is one of the smallest independent states in
Rajpootana ; and it is enclosed by the kingdoms of Marwar, Meywar, and Jeypore,
and the province of Ajmere. The soil is of the poorest description, the sand of
the great desert having gradually encroached until it now covers the whole sur-
face to the depth of several feet. During the rainy season the country assumes a
more pleasing appearance, owing to the rapid growth of the vegetation, which,
however, disappears in a few months. The principal resources of the country are
the mines and the salt-works, which yield to the rajah a revenue of about six
lacs of rupees.

This province was, for a long time, part of the kingdom of Marwar. It was
not until the year 1613 that King Oudey Sing gave it as an appanage to his son
Kishen Sing, who established himself in the town which now bears his name.
When the English began to interfere with the affairs of Rajesthan, this little state
was one of the first to acknowledge their authority, and has since remained under
the protectorate of the year 1820.

The town of Kishengurh, although quite modern, has a dilapidated and desolate
appearance, owing to its princes having abandoned it for so long a period, and
established themselves at the Court of the Great Mogul, where they ruined them-
selves with feasts and every kind of dissipation. It entirely covers the high hill
on which it is built, and overlooks a picturesque lake of the name of Gondola. It
once had the reputation of being one of the strongest forts in Rajesthan, and the
double line of ramparts, with the citadel placed on the very summit of the hill,
still makes it appear formidable; but these fortifications are in such a state of
dilapidation that they offer scarcely any obstacle to artillery. The town contains
more ruined palaces than habitable houses; but, as most of these buildings are
still standing, one might at first sight take it for a populous and flourishing city ;
instead of which, a few pretty bazaars, clustering round the castle, are ample for

the accommodation of the entire population, which barely numbers 15,000
souls,
THE RAYAH OF KISHENGURH. 231

The day after our arrival the rajah sent horses and an escort to conduct us to
the palace. All the approaches to the town and the streets themselves are so
steep and uneven that it would be impossible to use carriages. Climbing the
slope leading to the first line of foxtifications, we reached the gate, from which
the first fouses of the town, with the Castle-hill, may be seen a hundred feet
below. This first wall only forms a screen on the crest of the hill parallel with
the town, from which it is completely detached; it merely guards the way from
the lake to the mountain. Alighting at the entrance of the citadel, we passed
several casemated works built with great solidity. ‘The last of these surrounds
a small plateau, in the centre of which stands a massive and gloomy feudal castle,
which is now the residence of the rajah. The latter not being quite ready to
receive us, we were invited to inspect the different parts of the citadel. In some
places the ramparts are nearly one hundred and fifty feet high, and overlook the
whole of the surrounding country. On one side lay the town, with its picturesque
palaces, temples, and wardens: aud on the other, the lake, with its innumerable
islands decked with kiosks and other graceful buildings. Our guides proudly
called our attention to some old cannons, which lined the bastions, and were
fastened to their carriages by means of massive cables, no doubt to prevent their
falling over the parapet when fired off. At length a choubdar came to fetch us.
We entered the castle, and, passing through several courts crowded with ragged
servants, were ushered into the presence of the Rajah Adhiraj Purtwee Sing of
Kishengurh. He was a handsome man, in the prime of life; a true type of the
Rajpoot race, with his large fierce eyes, well-cut high nose, and long black whiskers
turned up behind his ears. He was seated on a large embroidered cushion which
takes the place of a throne in the principalities of Rajwara. Without rising he
motioned to us to take our places at his side, and asked us the object of our
journey to Kishengurh. His manner towards us was proud and haughty, and he
confessed that he was astonished at our taking the trouble to visit, or even to take
views of, such a poor country as Rajpootana; and after a short interview he
dismissed us with a formal bow.

We had scarcely reached our charming residence when the moonshee arrived,
and asked me, in the name of the rajah, to take a likeness of the prince and of his
two sons. I was just going to reply that it would give me great pleasure to
accede to the rajah’s request, when the moonshee begged me kindly to let him
know what the price of the portraits would be. These last words gave me the
clue to the rajah’s coldness. No doubt he took me for an itinerant photographer,
and must have been much astonished at a person of that description having been
sent to him from Ajmere with letters of introduction. I endeavoured to make
the moonshee understand how offended I was at the idea of receiving any pay-
ment for portraits, and desired him to tell his master that I would do no such
thing. Notwithstanding this the rajah persisted, and at one time it seemed
likely that we should be placed in a serious difficulty. However, our march
was resumed on the following morning. Towards nine o'clock the moonshee
overtook us with a deputation from the rajah to induce us to return: this being
declined, they returned to Kishengurh, and we went on our way.

A march of twenty-four miles across a sterile and monotonous country brought
us to Doudon, one of the frontier towns of Dhoundhar, or the kingdom of Jeypore ;
where we found a dilapidated dak bungalow, round which we pitched our camp.
232 INDIA.

All the villages which we passed in the morning are defended by feudal castles,
which give a somewhat original aspect to the country. These fortresses are held
by Thakours, who formerly derived the greater part of their revenues from
brigandage, which they carried on along the high road from Agra to Ajmere ;
but the English have now put a stop to these expeditions, and the unfortunate
barons of the desert are reduced to the produce of their sand hills.

April 20th—We left Doudon at four o’clock in the morning, when the cold
was intense. Thick vapours hung over the horizon, and shortly before sunrise
we saw a most beautiful mirage. The picture was so perfect that both Schaum-
burg and I thought it was Jeypore, and it was with difficulty that our attendants
could persuade us that what we saw was only an effect of the atmosphere. From
the remotest antiquity, the inhabitants of plains and deserts have noticed the
remarkable phenomenon of the mirage; and all in describing it have compared
the effect to a sheet of water surrounded by fertile shores and fantastic buildings.

In India, where it frequently occurs, the mirage seldom resembles the effect
described; and, as a rule, it is seen only on cold, misty mornings. At first a
high bank of vapour, resembling a chain of mountains, appears on the horizon,
and gradually becomes more and more transparent as the first rays of the sun
rest upon it, acquiring at the same time a wonderful power of refraction. It has
the effect of a powerful lens, magnifying neighbouring objects, and thus trans-
forming bushes into gigantic trees, and rocks into Cyclopean monuments.
Suddenly, the top of the cloud is brilliantly tinted with the colours of the
rainbow, and the lower part, becoming less transparent, has the appearance of
a real mountain, covered with trees, and crowned with palaces, minarets, and
palm-trees. This phenomenon lasts for about a minute, during which time
every object is so clearly defined that, without immense experience, it is impos-
sible to determine whether the town you see is a reality or not; and, as the sun
rises, the vision gradually fades away. Sometimes the mirage is only a trans-
formation of some very distant object.

The Indians have various appellations for this phenomenon. The shepherds
of the great desert of Thoul call it “chittram,” or picture; the inhabitants of
the steppes of Marwar and Jeypore, “seekote,” or castles in the air; and those
of the fertile plains of the Chumbul and the Jumna, “ depasur,” or illusion.

The difference between the “schral” of Arabia and the “seekote” of India
comes from the fact that the stratification of the clouds in the first is horizontal,
and in the second vertical. Whatever may be the causes of this marvellous
natural phenomenon, it is certainly one of the most beautiful sights imaginable,
particularly under the circumstances under which I first saw it,—standing on
a hillock of sand, whence we espied the beautiful river Baudi Nuddee winding
through a vast plain at our feet, at the farther end of which rose the phantom
castles of the Chittram. Some peasants, who had stopped to look at our caravan,
told me that during the early part of the year this mirage may be seen every
morning ; but it becomes rarer in April.

The plains which we crossed are covered with sand to the depth of some
feet, the only vegetation consisting of stunted and thorny bushes and a kind of
thistle. The sand is so impregnated with salt that the inhabitants of these vast
districts gain their livelihood entirely by working the salt-mines. They generally
undermine a hillock, so as to procure the sand farthest from the surface, which
BUGRORE. 233
always contains the most salt. This is simply washed, and the salt obtained by
evaporation. I will presently state the splendid revenue that Jeypore receives
from these salt-works. At nine o’clock we reached the picturesque little town of
Bugrore, near which we found a dale bungalow, in tolerably good repair. Bugrore
is the residence of one of the sixteen Omras of the Dhoundhar.

On the 21st we accomplished the last sixteen miles of our journey to
Jeypore, and arrived without any mishap at the excellent bungalow provided by
the king for the accommodation of travellers.
CHAPTER XIX.

¥EYPORE.

Our Bungalow.—Jey Sing II. Sowde.—Foundation of Jeypore—The Palace-—The Observa-
tory —First Interview with the Maharajah—The Kachwas,—The Mynas,—Hot Winds—
Tumblers.—A Holy Man suspended by the Feet.—The Fair of Ganesa.

UR bungalow was about two miles from the town, and on the
very border of the desert; only a few trees separating us from
a vast sea of sand, arid and bare, which contrasted strangely
with the beautiful country we overlooked from the high steps
of our bungalow. This oasis of verdure, which now covers for
> many ales. the approaches to the town on the western side,
dates only fee the establishment of the English Resident at Jeypore. The
sand of the desert, aggregated by the wind to the top of the city ramparts,
has by degrees been vepelled by the works undertaken by one of the Residents,
and has given place to fine avenues of trees and beautiful gardens. Con-
tinual efforts, however, are still necessary to check its inroads, and prevent
its again encroaching on the land which has been reclaimed. Since this
artificial forest has been made, the annual rains have become regular, and this
belt of vegetation has, by degrees, been extended; and it is on this ground,
wrested as it were by them from Nature, that the English have built their hand-
some houses. The Political Agent occupies a handsome house surrounded by a
park of several acres.

I have already explained, in speaking of Baroda, that all travellers arriving
in an Indian capital, and wishing to make some stay there, are obliged to ask
permission of the English agent, who has a perfect right to refuse it. It is dis-
tinctly laid down in the treaties of alliance entered into by the British Govern-
ment and the rajahs, that the latter shall not receive into their states any
European, if he be not an English subject, without referring him to the Resident
at their Court. I had been warned that at Jeypore this clause was strictly
observed, and that it was necessary at once to place myself in communication
with the agent. My first visit, therefore, was to Captain Beynon, British
political agent at the Court of Jeypore; and the few letters for him with which
I was provided gave me a right to expect a good reception: but I met with a
better than I had even hoped for. Captain Beynon received me with the
greatest kindness, appeared to take much interest in my enterprise, and promised
me his full support with the Maharajah. He informed me that, in addition to
his other high functions, he filled the place of superintendent of the dik bunga-

 
¥EY SING IU. 235

low, and that no one could remain there without his permission ; and he not only
authorised us to take up our abode there for as long as we might deem
necessary, but also gave orders that it should be put into a comfortable state for
our reception. The same evening the rajah sent us a carriage, which he placed at
our disposal for the period of our stay here, and one of his servants informed us
that our supply of bread and ice would be sent every day from the palace. It is
right to add that we could not have procured these provisions at any price; and
this, therefore, was a very kind attention on the part of the rajah.

The hot season was now approaching; the terrible north-west wind would
soon commence, and the rains would render the country impassable: it was
necessary, therefore, to winter either in an English town or at Jeypore. We
could not long hesitate between the two alternatives. The manner in which we
had been received at Jeypore, and the interest attaching to it as one of the first
Courts in India, decided us to establish our quarters here for the rains.

Jeypore, the capital of the ancient State of Dhoundhar, is quite a modern
town, founded only in 1728 by the king Jey Sing IL, one of the greatest geniuses
that Hindostan ever produced. Before passing to a description of his work, may
I be permitted to give a slight sketch of the brilliant career of this great man ?

Jey Sing IL, commonly called Sowde Jey Sing, ascended the throne of Ambir
in 1699. Having served Aurungzeb as one of his satraps, he took part in the
disputes concerning the succession which broke out on the death of that emperor.
Having been defeated with all his party at the bloody battle of Dholepore, he
was obliged to undertake the reconquest of his own states, which had been con-
fiscated by the new Emperor Shah Allum, and succeeded in driving out all the
imperial garrisons. It is not as a warrior, however, that the name of Jey Sing
deserves to be placed in the front rank of those who have shed the greatest lustre
on the Hindoo nation, but as a statesman, legislator, and scholar. It is to him
that the kingdom owes its political importance. He took advantage of the
troubles which already shook the great Mogul Empire, greatly to increase his
territory, and to gain for himself a high position among the princes of Rajesthan.
He introduced beneficial changes into the administration of the country, and
tried to ameliorate the social condition of the people and to abolish infanticide.

Ambir, the ancient capital, enclosed in a narrow gorge of the Kalikho
mountains, seeming to him no longer worthy of the grandeur of his new king-
dom ; assisted by one of his most able counsellors, Vedyadhar, a Jain of Bengal,
he planned and built a new capital, to which he gave the name of Jeypore, or
Jeynugger. He built this town on a uniform plan, and intersected it with
streets worthy of our large modern towns; and the ancient Ambir, four miles
distant from it, was connected with it by a line of fortifications, and preserved as
the palladium of the dynasty. Ina short time Jeypore became the seat of the
arts and sciences, and eclipsed the other large cities of India. But it was chiefly
as a great astronomer that Jey Sing immortalised his name. Almost all the
Rajpoot princes amuse themselves with astrology, and acquire some knowledge
of astronomy; but he, profiting by his early studies, did not stop at the theory
only of this science, but made himself master of it, and undertook, by the orders
of the Emperor Mahomet Shah, to revise the Hindoo calendar. For this purpose
he constructed at Delhi, Oujein, Benares, Muttra, and Jeypore observatories of
Oriental magnificence: and, having at his disposal only Persian instruments, he
236 INDIA.

invented new ones on a much larger scale than any then known, the results
proving astonishingly correct. Resuming his labours, he arranged a series of
astronomical tables; but, having heard from a Portuguese missionary of the
progress which his favourite science had made in Portugal, he despatched a
scientific embassy to Lisbon. King Emmanuel sent him in return a learned
man, Xavior da Silva, who communicated to Jey Sing the tables of De la Hire,
which had just then been published—in 1702. The royal astronomer tested
their accuracy, and discovered one slight mistake; and his observations were
carried on with so much minuteness, and with instruments of such great accuracy,
that English professors have since been unable to detect in them an error of more
than a few seconds. He dedicated his tables to the emperor, under the title of
Zeij Mahomedshahi; and the preface which he affixed to that remarkable work
showed that this eminent man had freed himself from the prejudices of the religion
of his ancestors, and professed the belief of an enlightened philosopher. It was
by his orders that the principal works on mathematics, ancient and modern, were
translated into Sanscrit.

Such was the man to whom Jeypore owes its existence and all its greatness.
He raised it to such a high place among the cities of India that his successors
have not been able to rob it of its importance; and that at the present day, under
an intelligent king, it promises to become once more worthy of its founder, Sowde
Jey Sing.

Unlike all the ancient Rajpoot towns, for which the most picturesque sites
seein always to have been carefully chosen by their founders, Jeypore presents
nothing to the view from the exterior but its high embattled ramparts, painted
red and strengthened at intervals by massive round towers, above which appear
the terraces of its temples and palaces. The general plan of the town is most
simple: a main street, over a mile in length and about forty yards in breadth, runs
through the town; this street is crossed at right angles by several other streets
of similar breadth, and at each point of intersection there is a market-place.

The town is built in a style of unusual magnificence; the most ordinary
houses being covered with brightly polished stucco, and the dwellings of the
nobles and wealthy are faced with white marble. The streets are paved in the
centre, and on each side are footpaths for pedestrians and the customers of the
shops which occupy the ground floors of the houses. No town in India can rival
Jeypore in the beauty or cleanliness of its streets, and I doubt much whether, at
the time it was built, there were many cities in Europe which could be compared
to it.

A high wall surrounds the residence of the rajah, which includes a con-
siderable number of palaces, kiosks, and buildings of all sorts, standing in the
midst of charming gardens which occupy two of the quarters of the town. With
the exception of this royal domain, the town can boast of few monuments ; but
we must not forget that it is scarcely a century and a half old, and that all the
great relics of the Middle Ages must be sought for in the ancient town of
Ambir.

It was Jey Sing himself who reserved for his palace such an immense space,
the covering of which he left to his successors, who have done their best, and
have succeeded in erecting a huge group of buildings, none of which are
remarkable except those built by the architects of Sowde. The Chandra Mahal,
OBSERVATORY OF ¥EY SING. 237

which forms the centre of the principal palace, is an immense pyramidal building,
in a handsome style of architecture; the front overlooking an extensive garden
planted with mango and orange trees, and intersected by large lakes ornamented
with waterfalls. The Dewan Khag, or Hall of the Durbars, which occupies the
ground floor of this palace, is one of the most beautiful in India, both from its
simplicity and from the grandeur of its proportions. On the left of the Chandra
Mahal are some large buildings painted in the brightest colours, in which are
situated the apartments of the king, the offices of the ministers, the zenana, and
the dwellings of the officials of the palace. Above these terraces rises a round tower,
lofty, but small in circumference, and somewhat resembling a minaret, built about
the year 1820. At a short distance to the east of the Chandra Mahal is the
observatory, constructed by the great Jey Sing. It is not, as one might suppose,

   

ALA NERE ain a eS = Trl ind

PAVILION IN THE PALACE OF JEYPORE.

a building containing the instruments necessary for astronomical studies ; in
truth it is a large courtyard filled with structures which supported the immense
instruments invented by the king. It is difficult to imagine anything more
grotesque or strange-looking than the gigantic dials, the copper wheels suspended
between marble columns, and the walls built in eccentric curves and excrescences ;
the whole looking like a scene of enchantment.

With what astonishment must the ignorant courtiers have seen their king
walking with measured steps on the enormous hypothenuse of the great gnomon,
or on a starlight night engaged in his mysterious avocations! The successors of
this learned king, however, have not shown themselves as enlightened as his
contemporaries ; for, instead of preserving with respect these glorious relics of
genius, they have allowed the buildings to fall into ruin, and the manuscripts and

instruments to be removed or lost. These last excited the avarice of Ras Kaphour
(Corrosive Sublimate), the courtesan of Jugghut Sing; and, with the consent of
that prince, she caused them to be sold at the price of old copper. The present
king has done his utmost to repair this havoc, but without success, for no one has
been found capable of reconstructing the instruments invented by the great
astronomer. The remains, however, of this observatory give an idea of what it
must have been in the days of its splendour. I borrow from Beresford his
description of the observatory at Delhi; which was but a copy, on a rather
smaller scale, of that at Jeypore. The largest structure is an immense equatorial
dial, named by Jey Sing, Semrat Yunter, or the Prince of Dials; the dimensions
of the gnomon are as follows:—length of the hypothenuse, 118 feet 5 inches;
length of the base, 104 feet; and length of the perpendicular, 56 feet. Ata
short distance from this building is another dial, or, rather, several dials combined
in one structure; in the centre of which is a staircase leading to a platform, the
walls of which serve as an index to some concentric semicircles, which, forming a
certain angle of inclination towards the horizon, represent meridians starting from
the meridian of the observatory. The external walls form gnomons, or indices, to
two graduated dials placed east and west. A wall reunites the four gnomons, and
on its northern side is a quadrilateral semi-circumference, which serves to take the
altitudes of the celestial bodies. To the south of the great equatorial dial are two
circular buildings, open at the top, each of which has a pillar in the centre; and
from the base of this pillar radiate thirty horizontal lines of stone, gradually
increasing in width until they reach the walls of the building. ach of these
radii forms a sector of six degrees, and, the intervening space between each radius
being of the same dimensions, the whole constitutes a circle of 360 degrees. Steps
are made in the exterior wall to allow the astronomer to ascend to the height
necessary for making his observations ; two windows being placed over each space
between the radii. At the extremity of these spaces are marked the tangents of
the degrees of the sun’s altitude, as shown by the shadow which is thrown by the
central pillar, and numbered from one to forty-five.

As soon as the sun has risen to this height, the degrees are marked on the
radii and numbered, commencing from the central column, so as to show the
complement of the sun’s altitude; and the degrees are next divided into minutes.
The opposite spaces on the wall have no subdivisions, but are simply marked off
into six degrees; and the shadow cast by the sun on to one or other of these divisions
gives its azimuth. In the same way the altitudes and azimuths of the moon and
stars can be observed. These two buildings were constructed of exactly the same
dimensions, so as to avoid any error by a comparison of observations taken
simultaneously. The great equatorial dial of the Jeypore observatory is still
larger than that described by Beresford ; the perpendicular of the gnomon being
at least one hundred feet in length.

Close to the observatory are the royal stables, built round immense court-
yards, through which you must pass to reach the Hawa Mahal, the Palace of the
Winds, one of the chefs-d’ewvres of Jey Sing. This palace, which is a fantastic
building, overlooking one of the principal bazaars of the town, was the favourite
resort of Sowde, who, far from the distractions of his court, could here give himself
up to abstruse calculations or to the study of his people. The interior is fitted
up with the most perfect taste and elegance. The walls of the apartments are of
different-coloured marbles, relieved by inlaid panels or gilding; and fountains
MAHARAYAH RAM SING. 239

adorn the centre of the rooms, spreading a relreshing coolness through them.
The structure consists of six storeys, but the three last are only light kiosks,
surrounded by innumerable belfreys; and the small gilt flags, which flutter with
every breath of wind, have given togit its popular name of Palace of the Winds,
which has now become its official appellation. The whole town is visible from
the top of the Hawa Mahal—the palace and its gardens, and the motley crowd
filling its bazaars, which somewhat resemble the boulevards of Paris; it appears,
in fact, a perfect labyrinth of terraces, over which float a thousand coloured flags.
To the west and north extend the green valleys of the Kalikho mountains and
the fortified heights of ancient Ambir; and, to the east and south, the desert,
one interminable line of undulating vapour. The view is magnificent, and I can
well understand the pleasure with which the great Sowde must have gazed on
this panorama, once so bare and desolate, and by his exertions so wonderfully
transformed. JI have now mentioned nearly all that is worthy of note in this
royal domain; the gardens of which contain magnificent promenades, vast lakes,
beautiful pavilions hidden among the trees, and a thousand other interesting
objects, which render it the most charming royal residence in India.

Although we had seen all that I have just described, we had not yet had an
interview with the Maharajah, who was detained, by certain religious ceremonies,
in his zenana. In the early part of May, Captain Beynon informed me that
the king was prepared to receive us, and that he would himself present us at
the durbar; and on the day appointed we made our way to the palace, in
carriages belonging to the Political Agent, who accompanied us in his diplo-
matic uniform. We left our carriages at the entrance of the Dewan Khas, and
were ushered into the great hall of the Chandra Mahal. The king advanced to
meet us as we entered, and, when presented by Captain Beynon, shook hands
with both of us, and invited us to sit down beside him; when the ministers and
principal officers of state occupied chairs ranged on either side of the throne. The
Maharajah, Ram Sing, is a short man, forty-five years of age, with an agreeable
countenance and refined features, and of more than ordinary intelligence, His
dress was handsome, but showed an indifference to ornament, which, perhaps,
was studied; he wore scarcely any jewels, and no sword or dagger, but an
immense revolver was thrust into his belt, from which hung a bunch of keys.
At first sight there was nothing particularly pleasing in this remarkable man,
who is now acting the part of a reformer in Rajwara, but I felt that he was
doing his utmost to give me a favourable impression of himself. He spoke to
me with much kindness of the fatigue which I must have gone through during
my travels, asked many questions about the Courts I had already visited,
and the manner in which we had been received, and expressed a wish that I
should spend some time in his capital. The conversation then turned on photo-
graphy (he is not only an admirer of this art, but is himself a skilful photographer),
and afterwards on France, of which we talked for a long time. One of the
chamberlains brought in rose-water and betel leaf, which here takes the place of
the simple bira of Oudeypoor, and which the king himself presented to each of
us. The audience over, we took our leave of the Maharajah, and returned in our
carriages as we came,

The Maharajah Ram Sing, King of Dhoundhar and of Jeypore, is the chief of
the KAchwas (or tortoises), one of the principal Rajpoot tribes. They trace back
240 INDIA.

their origin to the divine Rama, king of Ayodhya,-and ancestor of the Sourya-
vansis, through his second son Cush, one of whose descendants built the celebrated
fortress of Rhotas, in Behar, and took the name of Kachwa. In 295, one of
their kings, Nal Pal, removed westward, and established himself at Nishida, now
called Nurwar; their third capital was Gwalior. In 967, Dhola Rae, the son of
the last rajah, was driven from his country by a usurper, and forced to seek
refuge among the Mynas of Dhoundhar, by whom he was very kindly received,
and whom he, by a long course of disgraceful treachery, succeeded in dispossessing
of their country. At the time of the Mussulman invasion, the Kachwa kings of
Ambir were amongst the first to seek their alliance. In the reign of Akbar,
Bhagwaudas gave one of his daughters in marriage to Prince Selim, afterwards
the Emperor Jehanghir; and his name is consequently held in execration by the
Rajpoots, who reproach him with having been the first to stain the purity of their
race by a matrimonial alliance with the Islamites. This act drew down such
opprobrium on the name of Kachwa that they are considered, to the present day,
inferior to the other races of Rajesthan,

The ancient masters of the kingdom of Jeypore were the Mynas, one of the
great aboriginal races, who, like the Bheels, the Ghounds, and the Jats, divided
the countries now occupied by the Rajpoots. The Mynas of Dhoundhar were
divided into five great tribes called Panchwara, and inhabited a vast kingdom
comprising the whole chain of the Kalikho mountains from Ajmere to Delhi;
their principal towns were Ambir, Khogaum, and Mauch. They preserved their
independence longer than the Bheels, and were not entirely subjugated till near
the thirteenth century; numerous proofs also exist of the advanced state of
civilisation to which they had attained. Driven back to the mountains, they
have by degrees relapsed very nearly to their original condition, and their wild
tribes spread themselves as far as the mountains of Central India. All the
aboriginal races of Rajpootana, the Mynas as well as the Bheels and Mhairs, live
in villages called Pals, which circumstance has given them the generic name of
Palitas. Their habits do not differ from those of the Bheels; they live by hunt-
ing and brigandage, rather than by cultivating the soil, and always march armed
with bows and arrows and long lattis, which are bamboos tipped with iron.
Their skin is black, their hair long and silky, and their features more refined and
intelligent than those of the Bheels.

The climate of Jeypore is, perhaps, the healthiest in Rajpootana, but it
certainly is not the most agreeable. The seasons are more decided than in the
south, the winter being sometimes almost severe, and the thermometer in January
falling to zero, but only in the early morning. The heat continues to increase
until the month of March, when the hot winds, the scourge of Upper India, begin
to blow. The season is ushered in by storms of sand; which is carried along by
the violence of the north wind, and does great damage in the provinces of Mewat
and of the Jats. The sky becomes obscured by heavy clouds of a dull yellow
colour, composed of a mixture of sand and vapour, which falls in the most un-
pleasant sort of rain you can possibly imagine. These storms are succeeded by
the hot winds from the west, which gain additional heat by passing for hundreds
of miles over the burning sands of Marosthan, Beloochistan, and Persia. These
winds are so hot that the ground becomes parched, the trees lose their leaves, and
all vegetation ceases at their first approach. The European, suffocated by this
HOT WINDS. si

burning sirocco, which lasts for nearly a month without a moment’s respite, can
no longer venture out of his house without risk of a sunstroke. All the doors
and windows facing the west are carefully stopped up, or covered with thick mats,
made of the roots of the vitevert, called tattis, which are kept constantly wet by
coolies, who throw water over them day and night; and the wind blowing through
this mass of damp matting loses a certain portion of its heat, and renews and
freshens the air of the interior of the house.

Not unfrequently the wind drops suddenly towards evening, and that is the
most trying time of all, for the tattis no longer have any effect in cooling the air,
and the punkahs seem scarcely to agitate the overheated atmosphere. A sort of
hand windmill is then employed, called a thermantidote, which, when vigorously
worked by the coolies, in some degree lowers the temperature. It is easy to
understand that life during these two or three weeks is anything but pleasant.
Shut up in a room rendered gloomy and damp by the tattis, you are only able to
go out for a few minutes after sunset; you sleep in the open air to avoid suffoca-
tion, and you wake in the morning with eyes, ears, and mouth full of fine sand,
with which the atmosphere is charged. Every day you scan with anxious eye
the horizon to the south-west, and hail with delight the first clouds and the first
rain. Two or three heavy storms change the whole aspect of the country as if by
enchantment; the sand disappears beneath a carpet of fine soft grass of an
emerald green; the trees are clothed with leaves; the air becomes deliciously
fresh; and, after the past weeks of insupportable heat, you literally enjoy what
the poets have well called the awakening of Nature. Here the scene changes as
if by magic: yesterday, an ocean of sand lashed by a furious wind; to-day, green
fields and a soft refreshing shower. Only those who have felt the hot winds of
India can appreciate the luxury of the rains which follow them.

The monsoon restored to us our liberty: we could make excursions every day
to the town, or could spend some hours at the palace. I had long and frequent

“interviews with the rajah, who questioned me on all the details of our French
administration. The Pundit, son of the ex-regent, and the Bakshi, or commander-
in-chief of the king’s troops, were always present at these interviews. Both were
men of a remarkable type, very intelligent, and the best advisers of Ram Sing.
The Bakshi was the most gentlemanlike and agreeable Mussulman I met in India.
Though averse to Europeans on principle, he seemed to esteem them highly ; and,
though he was not a man of much education, yet he knew more of Europe and
the kingdoms of the West than most of his compeers. We were on the best of
terms with all the inhabitants of the palace, particularly with two or three Baboos
of Bengal, who had studied at Calcutta, and who were placed by the rajah at the
head of his schools.

Independently of the Court, we had a charming little society round the resid-
ence of Ma-je Ka Baugh, which comprised three gentlemen, as many ladies, and
lots of children. We passed our evenings twice a week at one or the other of
these houses ; and the king’s excellent band, led by a worthy German, M. Bocker,
played in the delightful gardens of the Political Agent when a select party
assembled on the lawn. ‘

The neighbourhood of Jeypore abounds in game, amongst which pea-fowl
must occupy the first place. Thousands of these birds cover the trees in the

suburbs, deafening the unhappy Europeans with their harsh cries ; but the Indians
Q
242 INDIA,

delight in this concert, and a royal edict takes these fowls under its special pro-
tection. Wild boars come next on the list. Herds of these animals make great
ravages in our oasis; but hunting them has no great attractions for the sports-
man, as he may always shoot one or two by merely watching for them at night in
the verandah of his bungalow. Immense herds of antelopes are to be found on
the neighbouring plains, and gazelles and spotted deer abound in the ravines of
the desert. Game of this sort is, in fact, so abundant that one soon wearies of
sport. The only amusement left us, therefore, was to go in search of tigers and
panthers, which are still pretty numerous in the gorges of the Kalikho Mountains.
Jeypore is a perfect paradise to the sportsman newly arrived from Europe, for he
finds there every variety of game, and can acquire great renown and glory with
very little trouble. Towards the end of the monsoon a sort of wood-pigeon is
found in the environs of the town, very large, with green plumage, which the
Indians call ariel. These pigeons are very good eating, and furnish sport also,
for the moment they see the sportsman they remain perfectly motionless, and it
requires a practised eye to detect them amidst the green leaves of the peepul-
trees, which they generally frequent.

Besides hunting and shooting excursions, we had for our diversion the perfor-
mances of innumerable jugglers, who await at Jeypore the cessation of the rains,’
to start afresh on their wandering life, which had been interrupted by the impass-
able condition of the roads. Most of these jugglers, such as the serpent-charmers,
acrobats, &c., are the same as are to be met with all over India, and have been
described by every traveller; but there are also some peculiar to this country, and
they deserve a short notice. The most remarkable are those who perform tricks
with swords, knives, &c., on the top of a mast or pole. The most curious part of
the performance is the manner in which they fix the pole into the sand. They
merely support it by four ropes, the ends of which are simply put into a hole; a
man then pours some water on the hole, and stamps it well down; and, in the
twinkling of an eye, the mast with its yard-arm is so firmly fixed that two
or three men can shake it vigorously without loosening the ropes. I will say
nothing of the extraordinary agility with which they handle their sharp swords,
or the astonishing contortions they put themselves into, for these have often been
described.

The most curious tricks are those executed by little girls who, nearly naked,
roll themselves into balls, bend themselves back, and pick up with their eyes two
straws stuck into the ground, thread a needle with their toes, their eyes being
bandaged, and go through an amount of dislocation which is quite bewildering.
When they are made to lift weights by their eyes, however, the spectacle becomes
cruel and repulsive. A metal button is placed under each eyelid, in such a
manner as to adhere to the very pupils of the eyes ; and to these buttons strings
are attached, connected with weights, sometimes very heavy, which the child lifts
in this way some little height from the ground, without using her hands. If the
trick lasts a minute tears may be seen running down the strings. It is a horrid
sight !

The same motive which draws the jugglers to Jeypore at this season brings
also religious mendicants of all sorts, each of whom has his special vocation. One
excites the pity of the public by showing himself in the streets entirely naked, or
covered only with a coating of ashes; another shows proudly his arm, which sticks
FAIR OF GANESA. 243

up bare and emaciated, the nails having grown through the hand; while a number
of them stand in the bazaars and sell amulets and charms, and ply many other
lucrative trades. But every season there is one fakir who contrives, by some
novel trick, to make himself the lion®of these religious circles. This year it was a
Goussain, and you shall hear how he succeeded in making himself famous. One
morning some peasants who were coming into the town saw, near our bungalow,
at the cross roads from the Residency, a holy man occupied in tying several thick
ropes to the branch of a tree overhanging the road; and great was their astonish-
ment when they saw the Goussain place his feet in two slip knots, and then,
having stretched himself on the ground, haul himself up gently by means of a
third rope, until he was suspended by the feet, like a calf in a slaughter-house.
In the course of an hour a vast crowd surrounded the fakir, who, still in the
same position, tranquilly mumbled his prayers, whilst telling his beads. After
hanging in this manner for several hours, he let himself down and returned to
the town, escorted by a crowd of enthusiasts. On the morrow he returned to the
same spot, to go again through the same performance. I went there with several
Europeans, and we all saw that, although the Goussain had then been suspended
by the feet for some hours, his face was calm, that he spoke without difficulty,
and certainly appeared to feel no inconvenience: when we asked him how he
had managed to accustom himself to that position, he answered that God had
given him this power as an evidence of his sanctity. Of course it would have
been difficult to obtain any other explanation. For more than a month this holy
man remained thus suspended like a ham during the greater part of each morn-
ing, and gained by it a good round sum. The rajah, however, never came to see
him.

Towards the middle of August the Jeyporians celebrate with great magnificence
the festival of Ganesa, the god of science and wisdom. For several days the
fine boulevards of the capital are covered with picturesque crowds, drawn from
all parts of the kingdom; the houses and palaces are decorated with gaudy
flags and draperies, and the public squares adorned with poles covered with
flowers. The fair, or méla, which is held on this occasion round the royal
palace, forms the chief attraction to the crowds of country people ; there all the
products of Rajesthan and of Hindostan, as well as of Europe, are collected.
Magnificent shawls from Thibet, scarves from Bundelcund, figured kincobs from
Benares, and gauzes from Bengal, are found side by side with shirtings from
Manchester, printed calicoes from Belgium, and Turkey reds; while the
armourers offer you daggers from Herat, Gourka krisses, ratars from Meywar,
and cutlery from Sheffield and Chatelhérault. The principal products of Jeypore
industry which are exposed for sale are embroidered turbans, marble idols, copper
stoves, embroidered shoes, the salts of Sambher, and enamels on fine gold. These '
last constitute a speciality of this town, and are a royal monopoly ; they are of
the most delicate workmanship and brilliant colouring, and are of considerable
value. The Maharajah ordered a bowl of great beauty to be prepared for the
Exhibition of 1867, which, no doubt, was greatly admired by the connoisseurs of
Paris. The scene presented by this fair is most picturesque; elephants covered
with rich trappings, camels, and horsemen, the bright colours of the motley crowd,
the marble palaces, and the palm-trees, forming altogether a grand picture. On
the last day of the fair the Political Agent and the principal Europeans living at
244 INDIA.

Jeypore go, mounted on elephants, to the palace of the king; on their road the
balconies and terraces are crowded with women handsomely dressed, and having
their faces uncovered, who look with curiosity at the sahibs, while the men fill the
path, and press up to the very feet of the elephants. On their arrival at the
palace, the Europeans are received by the king, and assist with him in forming
the procession of the Sowari of Ganesa, who appears borne in a palankeen, over-
laid with gold, and surrounded with all the magnificence I have already described
at Baroda. After the procession there is a grand dinner, of which the rajah
partakes, followed by nautch-girls, fireworks in the gardens, and all the sumptuous
entertainments usual at Indian courts. I have already described these fétes at
Oudeypoor and Baroda so fully that a repetition here would be needless.
CHAPTER Xx.
AMBIR AND LAKE SAMBHER.

HE road leading from the new to the ancient capital is charm-

ingly pretty. On leaving the town by the north-east gate,
we found ourselves at once in the midst of delightful gardens,
shaded from the sun by flowering shrubs and trees of every
description. The rains had thrown a mantle of brilliant green
over the bare sand and rocks, and even over the walls, giving
the place the appearance of an immense park, with grassy glades interspersed
among the woods. ‘The different properties are divided by prickly-pear trees,
which are a more formidable barrier than the highest iron railings. These
thorny hedges are many feet in height, and it makes one shudder to think
that the pain occasioned by a single prick suffices to unnerve a strong man,
and lay him up with a short attack of fever. The chain of the Kalikho
Mountains here forms a semicircle, the two extremities of which are reunited
by the ramparts of Jeypore; and the valley thus enclosed, being sheltered on all
sides from the encroaching sand, forms a pleasing contrast to the parched-up
country which surrounds it. This valley was once crossed by a nullah, or
mountain torrent, which flowed through a narrow gorge on the east, and was
lost in the plain. One of the princes of Jeypore conceived the idea of stopping
the course of the nullah by constructing a dam across the ravine; and the
torrent, thus imprisoned, became a beautiful lake; its banks were soon covered
with sumptuous palaces and lovely gardens, and a succeeding rajah built, in
his turn, a magnificent island-residence in the centre of the lake. But it appears
that the engineer who had constructed the barrier had not taken the necessary
precautions; the level of the lake became higher every year, until the water
gradually inundated the gardens, then the kiosks, and at length even the
palaces; there was no knowing when it wonld stop. The unfortunate inhabit-
ants had the remedy in their own hands: a channel cut through the dyke would
at once have relieved them of the surplus waters. But, whether from apathy
or superstition, they preferred to abandon their dwellings to the invading element,
and to take refuge in the opposite ghaut.

The present appearance of this lake is most picturesque. The palaces are
half ruined, the halls with their marble colonnades are immersed in the waters,
and over all extends the rank vegetation which so soon takes possession of
deserted buildings; such is the picture reflected on the blue surface of the lake.
In the centre stands the royal castle, the lower storeys of which are invisible,
with its gloomy towers cracked by the peepul. No one has set foot in it since

 
246 INDIA.

the first inundation, and the only inhabitants are the crocodiles and enormous
tortoises. The former are in fact the real proprietors of the lake, and I should
think it would be impossible, in any other part of the world, to find so great a
number of them collected in one spot.

The high stone causeway which leads to Ambir runs across a corner of the
lake, and from it one can study these saurians at one’s leisure. No sooner do
these sociable animals hear or see any one approaching this road than they
assemble from all parts of the lake, and collect on each side of the causeway ;
their horrid flat triangular heads are thrust out from under the lotus-leaves with
a hungry, impudent stare, and the passer-by can see that every eye is directed
towards himself. Imagine yourself riding past such an army! Should your horse
take fright or make a single false step, all those jaws would instantaneously open,
and in another moment you would disappear. The first time that I travelled this
road, I confess that I did not stop to admire the view until I had left these
frightful creatures some way behind me. My servants assured me that one
rarely heard of an accident taking place, and that, in fact, there was no danger so
long as one did not enter the water; but I found that there was no small risk in
having to cross a slippery and badly paved road, four or five hundred yards long,
on a skittish horse, with hundreds of alligators on either side. locks of pelicans,
whose white plumage was worthy the proverb, disported themselves on the
islands, and were a pleasant relief to the eye after the disagreeable sight we had
just witnessed; and numbers of wild duck passed backwards and forwards near
the lurking crocodiles. Notwithstanding his enlightened ideas, Ram Sing still
protects these ferocious animals; no one is allowed, under pain of severe punish-
ment, to disturb them in any way; and, for fear of frightening them or wounding
them by mistake, no one is permitted to shoot on the lake. On the opposite
bank is a ruined gateway, through which the causeway passes, and thus brings
you within the outer wall of the holy town of Ambir. On the other side is a
very steep ghaut, leading in a straight line up a hill three or four hundred feet
high; arrived on the summit of which you pass through another gateway, and
find yourself in Ambir. Not the slightest vestige of a town can be seen—nothing
but a dense forest and huge masses of rock; but on turning round you overlook
the whole valley through which we had just passed, while in the distance
Jeypore, with its row of palaces and monuments, resembles a magnificent mirage.
The road winds through the forest for a short distance, then takes a sharp turn, and
you suddenly come upon the mysterious valley of Ambir. Picture to yourself
a deep crater, the sides of which are covered with thick sombre jungle; in the
centre of which rises a green mound, forming a pedestal for a fairy-like and
dazzling marble palace, beside which the wonders of Seville and Granada would
appear insignificant; and around this palace lies a silent and deserted town,
whose smallest houses are palaces, and near it is a black and gloomy lake. Such
is one’s first impression of Ambir; but one’s feelings, after a few moments of
contemplation, are quite indescribable. A mixture of the romantic and the
mysterious takes possession of you; you ask yourself whether, after all, it is not
a mere phantom of the “ Arabian Nights,” and whether, like a second Calender,
you have come to disturb the silence of this sleeping town, and bring to light
some frightful mystery. The palace in particular has a supernatural appear-
ance; the marble turrets have the yellowish tint of ivory, and the walls are
THE DEWANI KHAS. 247

ornamented with gilded balconies. Surely this must be thé enchanted castle
of Sherazéd.

A few abrupt turnings conduct you to the edge of the sacred lake, Tal Koutora,
the shores of which are covered wath delightful gardens; small marble kiosks
eushrining the symbolical four-faced lingam appear here and there among the
trees ; and a few naked fakirs, covered with ashes, may be seen in groups on the
slopes. The waters of the Tal occupy the whole of this part of the valley,
leaving barely sufficient space for the road; and the town is situated on the
other side of the embankment, which supports a beautiful garden and summer-
palace, with groves of orange and mango trees and artificial lakes. Making the
circuit of the lake, we toiled wearily up the flight of marble steps leading to the
castle. The way is defended on either side by embattled ramparts, and at every
turning there is a massive gate, with bastions and a guard-house. The castle is
from 80 to 100 feet above the level of the lake; but the stone buttresses which
support the sides of the hill descend perpendicularly into the water, and look
like a continuation of the castle walls, which, are built exactly over them, thus
making the frontage appear more than two hundred feet high. The monotony
of this huge fagade is broken by a few balconies and light verandahs, running
across the upper part of the building; which form its only exterior ornament.
The principal entrance, which is a large pointed archway, surmounted by light
chatris (kiosks), and built in a simple and severe style of architecture, leads to an
immense court, three sides of which are occupied by the great blocks of buildings.
formerly used as barracks and stables. This court occupies the lower plateau of
the hill; the principal buildings of the palace are situated on the upper plateau,
aud are built upon a high terrace overlooking the court. You reach the palace
by a handsome flight of steps; and, passing through a beautiful gateway
ornamented with brilliant frescoes, you find yourself in the midst of all the
wonders which have rendered this spot so famous throughout Hindostan. At one
end of the terrace rises the great hall of the Dewani Khas, one of the most
beautiful specimens of Indian art. A double row of columns, supporting a
massive entablature, form three sides of the hall, which is roofed in by a vaulted
and very lofty ceiling of great solidity; the fourth side, which is walled up,
facing the lake. The building is therefore in reality only a kiosk on a very
large scale, as it is perfectly open to the air. The hall is paved with marble,
inlaid with colours ; and a platform of white marble, erected at one extremity,
serves as a throne. The first row of columns are of red sandstone, with capitals
of great beauty, on which elephants are sculptured, supporting with their trunks
the sloping stone roof which descends from the cornice. The shafts of these
columns are covered with a layer of smooth white stucco, which hides the
magnificent sculpture. It appears that no sooner had Mirza completed the
Dewani Khas than it came to the ears of the Emperor Jhanghir, that his vassal
had surpassed him in magnificence, and that this last great work quite eclipsed
all the marvels of the imperial city; the columns of red sandstone having been
particularly noticed as sculptured with exquisite taste and elaborate detail. Ina
fit of jealousy the emperor commanded that this masterpiece of art should be
thrown down, and sent commissioners to Ambir, charged with the execution of
this order; whereupon the Mirza, in order to save the structure, had the columns
plastered over with stucco, so that the messengers from Agra should have to
248 INDIA.
acknowledge to the emperor that the magnificence, which had been so much
talked of, was after all a pure invention. Since then his apathetic successors
have neglected to bring to light this splendid work ; and it is only by knocking

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THE DEWANI KHAS, IN THE PALACE OF AMBIR.

 

off some of the plaster that one can get a glimpse of the sculptures, which are as
perfect as on the day they were carved. The columns of the second row are
severally made out of single blocks of grey marble. At the other end of the
PALACE OF AMBIR. 249

terrace is that part of the palace which is occupied by the king; in the centre of

which is a monumental gateway, covered with mosaics and delicate paintings—

one of the most beautiful works of art in India. It is difficult to give a just idea
«

 

THE SOWAE GATE, PALACE OF AMBIR.

of this marvellous collection of precious marbles and gilding; I am happy,
therefore, to be able to refer the reader to the beautiful engraving here inserted.
The marble frameworks of the windows which ornament this gate are said to be
tee INDIA.
the most beautiful in all India. They are carved out of single slabs, and are so
delicately finished that at a short distance they resemble transparent muslin
curtains. On passing through this gateway, new wonders meet you at every turn.
You enter a court surrounded by palaces, rich in mosaics and sculptures, in the
centre of which is a fairy-like garden. Although it has long been unoccupied,
this royal residence is still carefully kept up, a small number of servants being
sufficient for this purpose. The rajah had kindly given us permission to lodge at
the palace during our stay at Ambir, and we had resigned ourselves to the idea
of living in a magnificent ruin; but on entering the royal garden we felt
reassured, and doubted not that the palace would be a charming residence.

On the left-hand side of the garden, there is a monumental pavilion, the
ground floor of which is surrounded by a verandah with Moorish arches. The ex-
terior is of white marble and ornamented with a few delicate bas-reliefs ; excepting
which, the general appearance is very simple; the interior being divided into
three great saloons, which are covered from the ceiling to the floor with mosaics
and inlaid work: these mosaics are composed of polished stones, agates, tur-
quoises, gilt mouldings, and pieces of looking-glass, which are arranged in groups
of flowers, arabesques, and views. It is difficult to imagine the effect produced
by a ray of sunlight in these apartments, which lights up the gildings and makes
the crystal flowers, which are set in the panels, sparkle like diamonds, The
vaulted ceilings differ slightly from the usual Hindoo style, and their indented
arches remind one of the most beautiful Moorish pendentives. The upper storey
consists of a marble kiosk, crowned by one of those curious elongated domes
which resemble the hull of a boat, and containing three pretty apartments, even
more richly and tastefully decorated than those on the ground floor. On one
side there are large windows, with delicate marble trellis-work, overlooking the
precipice and commanding a magnificent view; and on the other is a handsome
terrace, shaded by the branches of the orange and pomegranate trees growing in
the garden below. You cannot picture to yourself a more romantic retreat.
The unbroken silence, the glorious view, the fairy-like palace with its Oriental
garden, it is impossible to imagine such delightful solitude. It was this kiosk
that I chose for our residence during the five weeks we determined to devote
to the exploration of Ambir.

On the other side of the garden extends a long line of palaces, quite as
beautiful in form and rich in decorations as the Jess Munder. In one of these,
the walls are panelled with sandal-wood and inlaid with ivory and silver, like
the Indian boxes which have been so much admired at our exhibitions; and the
apartments are traversed by small channels for water, which flows into basins,
the sides of which are inlaid with curious devices representing fish, water-plants,
lotus-flowers, and sea monsters. Some of these are simply made of white marble,
encircled with lapis lazuli or green serpentine marble, while others are orna-
mented with miniatures representing hunting scenes, or scenes ftom the national
history and from mythology ; in fact, each one contains something worthy of
notice and admiration. The royal baths also are of some interest, with their
ingenious warming apparatus, their stone furniture, and bronze conduits.

The royal zenana, which is situated to the south of these palaces, but a
little farther up the hill, covers an area equal to that occupied by all the other
erections in the castle, although it consists of a single block of buildings sur-
PALACE OF AMBIR. 251

rounding a large court. In spite of the absence of windows or any exterior
ornamentation, this edifice presents a fine appearance, with its four towers
surmounted by cupolas ;. but nothing can be more sombre and melancholy than
the interior. The great square coust is divided by walls, which diverge from a
marble kiosk in the centre. Each of these smaller courts has its trees, its
fountains, and its chatris, and appertains to an apartment of the zenana, which
is divided into the same number of compartments as the court. One of the
king’s wives used to reside in each of these separate apartments, and could, on
occasion, be completely shut off from all communication with her companions.
This palace and court, intended for the Rajpoot queens, might well serve as a
model for a prison in Europe. I believe that the rajah does not, as a rule, allow
travellers to visit this part of the palace, as it is likely to inspire unpleasant

  

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THE PAVILION OF THE JESS MUNDER, IN THE PALACE OF AMBik.

reflections on the social condition of the women in this country. However this
may be, I was permitted to go wherever my fancy led me, and I explored every
corner of this strange institution. The apartments were once decorated with the
same magnificence which is displayed throughout this marvellous palace ; but a
hundred and fifty years of neglect, and its present inhabitants, have left few
traces of its former splendour. There still remain, however, a few very curious
antique frescoes and some fine mosaics. When I say the present inhabitants, I
mean a numerous tribe of Hunouman monkeys, who have taken up their abode
in the deserted halls of the zenana, where they now reign supreme. Even if these
inoffensive animals were not protected by Indian superstition, it would be
difficult to dislodge them from a place which they have occupied for so many
years, The first time I visited the zenana, accompanied by Schaumburg and a
servant from the palace, our entrance caused a violent tumult: the mothers took
252 INDIA.
to flight with their little ones, and the males followed us at a respectful distance,
showing their formidable teeth in a very unpleasant manner.

The langour, or Hunouman monkey, is the largest species found in the
forests of India: its height varies from two and a half to nearly four feet, and its
form is slender and extremely supple; it has an intelligent face, covered with
very black skin, and devoid of hair, save its long white whiskers ; its hair is long
and silky, of a chinchilla grey on the back, and white under the stomach; and
its tail is of the same length as the body, and bare, with the exception of a tuft
of hair at the end. The langour is the sacred monkey of India; it was this
tribe, which, headed by Hunouman, king of the monkeys, assisted Rama in the
conquest of the island of Ceylon, the ancient Lunka. The Hindoos, interpret-
ing literally the description in the Ramayana, which compares the barbarian
allies of the Aryans to monkeys, look upon the langours as the descendants of
the soldiers of Rama, and hold them in great veneration. The origin of the
black faces of these quadrumanes is described in an episode of this poem. Like
a second Menelaus, Rama went to make war on Ravana, the demon-king of
Lunka, who had carried off his wife Lita; and on the road he succeeded in
securing the services of the king of the monkeys. On arriving at the extremity
of the peninsula his farther progress was stopped by the Palk Straits; and while
his allies were filling up the sea with the masses of stone, which now form
Adam’s Bridge, he despatched the faithful Hunouman to warn Lita of his
approach. The monkey king, who was an accomplished jumper, cleared the
Straits at a single bound, and soon found the inconsolable Lita; but during the
interview Ravana suddenly appeared, and Hunouman was taken prisoner. In-
stead of putting him to death, the king of Lunka, so much abused by his Aryan
conquerors, ordered the monkey to be sent back to Rama, after setting fire to the end
of his long tail. In his flight, Hunouman succeeded in blowing out the flame at
the end of his unfortunate appendage; but in doing this he singed all the hair
off his face, and arrived at the camp with a scorched and blackened tace; where-
upon, seeing his despair of recovering his comeliness, Rama gave all the monkeys
in the army the same black faces as their king: and, as the Brahmin who told
me the legend added, “you see that the story is true, for they are all‘ Kala-
moukh.’”*

These strange inhabitants of the palace of Ambir interested me greatly
during our stay in the neighbourhood. After a few days the whole tribe got
well acquainted with us, and approached us without fear; for bananas, bread,
and sugar had made us very popular. One only of the whole number took no
notice of our friendly advances. He was an extremely handsome langour, whose
great age and the respect with which he was treated by the younger monkeys at
once showed me that he was the chief of the tribe. No sooner did he see one
of us than he made a grimace and turned his back on us; and only once could
we persuade him to accept of a banana, which he merely put to his lips, no doubt
out of pure civility to us. All those who have lived in the countries where
these monkeys abound have remarked that they always congregate in large
numbers under the command of a chief; each tribe occupying a field, a wood, or
a ruin, which it appears to consider as its own property, and which it jealously
defends against intruders. Day after day I used to watch the langours who,

* Black-faced.
HISTORY OF AMBIR. 253

stationed on the battlements of the zenana, kept a look-out over the surround-
ing country. If one of these sentinels saw a stranger or an enemy approaching
their abode, he immediately uttered a hoarse cry, at which signal of alarm the
battlements were at once thronged with defenders. One day a panther crossed
the ravine, and came close under the walls of the zenana. It was amusing to
see with what fury, mingled with ludicrous terror, the monkeys insulted their
formidable enemy from the top of their ramparts; and, long after his departure, .
the whole troop remained on the watch, yelling, and going through the most
frightful contortions, out of bravado. The weather being so fine, we took our
meals on the terrace of the Jess Munder; when the whole tribe of monkeys
collected on the parapet adjoining the zenana, and watched us with great
interest. What a novel spectacle for these monkeys to see a Parisian eating and
drinking! In the front row sat the female monkeys, each holding her little one
in her arms; next were the full-grown ones, who seemed more fierce; and in
solitary majesty on the ledge of the roof sat the old king, This arrangement
had such a droll appearance, and the monkeys kept so still, that I several
times tried to photograph them; but at the sight of the apparatus, which they
took for some new kind of firearm, they gave a yell and fled precipitately. I
cannot count the hours I spent in studying these strange quadrumanes, and in
remarking how wonderfully they resemble the human race in their habits.
Their sports, their games, their quarrels, and feats of strength would fill a whole
volume, which, however, would not stand much chance of being either read or
believed in France; but if an enthusiastic naturalist wishes to study, at his
leisure, the representatives of the Hunouman nation, let him take up his abode
for a month in the Jess Munder at Ambir. I omitted to mention that the
langour, though so inoffensive and easily put to flight, is nevertheless a terrible
adversary when wounded or in danger. The strength of its jaw is prodigious,
and, added to the agility with which it uses its arms, renders it as formidable
when enraged as the hyena or panther. |

The precise date of the founding of Ambir is unknown, but one may safely
place it somewhere in the first centuries of the Christian era. It was founded by
the Mynas, the great aboriginal race of Upper India, and from them received the
name of Amba, or universal mother. Being their capital, it also bore the name
of Ghaut Rani, or Queen of the Mountains. It was a flourishing town even in
967, when Dhola Rao got possession of it by treachery, and made it the capital
of the new Kachwa kingdom. Its prosperity increased with the power of its
masters, and it rapidly became one of the first towns of Rajesthan. In 1580 the
King Maun Sing commenced building the present palace, uniting it with the
feudal castle of the first kings, some portions of which may still be seen in the
rear of the zenana. Towards the year 1630 the Rajah Jey Sing I. added the
Jess Munder, the Dewani Khas, and several other palaces, enclosing the whole
within a fortified wall. This rajah also formed the lake of Tal Koutora, and the
wonderful gardens of the Bund. On mounting the throne in 1699 the great
Sowde, Jey Sing IL, put the finishing stroke to the work of his predecessors by
constructing the magnificent gateway which bears his name; but the inaccessible
position of his capital, the small space which it afforded for his intended alterations,
and the impossibility which he found in carrying out works worthy of his name,
decided him to abandon it. In 1728 he founded Jeypore; and, compelling the
INDIA.

254
inhabitants of Ambir to leave their native gorges, he gave them one of the most
beautiful towns in the world.

This was a fatal blow to the ancient Queen of the Mountains. Despoiled of
her inhabitants, she lost, one by one, all the great families who kept up the ancient
traditions, and retained nothing of her former splendour but a few monuments,
and a name venerated as the cradle of the glory and grandeur of the Kachwas,
She shared the fate of Chittore in Meywar, and Mundore in Marwar, and now
presents the melancholy spectacle of a large town, rich in monuments of the past,
inhabited only by a few priests, still faithful to their altars, and thousands of
monkeys and wild beasts.

The ruins of Ambir still fill up the north-east part of the valley; the bazaars
and dwellings of the people are now nothing but heaps of rubbish, covered with
rank vegetation; but the houses of the great Kachwa families have better resisted
the aitaets of time. It is to be regretted that the founders of Jeypore thought it
necessary to abandon their original simple and grand style of building, which
renders most of these houses remarkable as specimens of ancient architecture. In
the midst of the venerable nim-trees and mango-trees which flourish in the ravine,
may be seen the straight unornamented axbades, the high pierced pediments and
long colonnades of the imposing palaces of Ambir. Nowhere has Nature been so
quick in beautifying the works of man. She has covered the walls with creepers
and flowers, planted the courts with shady groves, and hung her peepul-trees and
cacti among the marble trellis-work of the terraces. Wandering through the
silent streets, whose loose and broken pavement is overgrown with weeds and
grass, you experience a feeling of soothing melancholy seldom excited by ruins,
which so often are bare and desolate; and “the sun’s rays, partially intercepted by
the foliage of the trees, impart a warm colour to this mixture of sculptural stone-
work and verdure. Mysterious-looking green and shady paths lead you to some
small ornamental banks surrounded by porticos, where troups of langours disport
themselves on the banks. Occasionally at a turn of the road you meet a Brahmin,
who invites you to come and admire his temple. There are numerous religious
edifices in the valley, which, for the most part, are well kept up; and they are
built in a beautiful style of architecture; particularly the temple dedicated to
Mahades, the golden kiosk of which is a perfect masterpiece of sculpture. Night
and morning the valley echoes with the sound of the bronze gongs of the
sanctuaries, while from the ramparts of the castle are heard the gigantic royal
kettle-drums, used to salute the rising and the setting of the sun, the ancestor of
their king. These drums and gongs sound strangely poetical in the evening,
when the echoes plaintively repeat the monotonous notes, reminding one of the
legend of the town of Bali, which was immersed in the waters as a punishment
for its impiety. The bells, it is said, may still be heard ringing every evening
at the hour of prayer, warning sinners to fear God.

In the centre of the town there is a lingam, placed in a basin which is filled
by a spring of water. An ancient prophecy declares, that when the water
completely covers the lingam Ambir will disappear. There are only a few
inches now visible above the surface, and the Brahmins are becoming anxious.
There are some poor bazaars in the eastern quarter of the town, which supply
the priests, and in the same neighbourhood is a very fine mosque, built by Jey
Sing Il—an act of toleration which does not surprise us in so great a man. I
VALLEY OF AMBIR. 255

have already said that the valley has no outlet, being surrounded on all sides
by mountains; but on the north-west the mountains are lower, which enables
one to obtain a view of the kingdom of Ulwur and the beautiful plains of

 

 

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THE GOLDEN KIOSK, IN THE VALLEY OF AMBIR.

Bangunga. At this point there is a fortified gate, from which diverge the lines
of fortifications which surround the valley, crowning the heights of the moun-
tains; and these, with the gate of Jeypore, which is only accessible by a very
256 INDIA. °

steep ghaut, are the only outlets to the valley. The outer line of works, which
las a circumference of more than twenty miles, and the second of about ten,
consist of thick walls built of cemented granite, with battlements and_ forts.
The whole of these fortifications centre in the magnificent citadel of Nahrgurh,
which covers an immense plateau, and defends at the same time both Ambir and
Jeypore.

A month is scarcely sufficient to explore all the remarkable features of the
valley and of the neighbourhood. The plains which lie beyond the eastern gate
are studded with beautiful temples, several ancient palaces, and some very
interesting tombs of the first rajahs of Ambir. To the sportsman these plains
offer the additional attraction of a great variety of game, from the antelope to
the panther and royal tiger.

By the beginning of September we had returned to the bungalow of Jeypore,
and two or three days after we again set out on our march, this time towards
the west, with the intention of visiting the great salt lake of Sambher, situated
about sixty miles from the town of that name, in the centre of the desert of
Maresthan. In order partially to avoid the wearisome plains of sand which
stretch from Jeypore to this lake, we again took the road from Ajmere, only
leaving it after Bugrore; when we accomplished, in two days, a march of forty
miles through a frightful country, where nothing was to be seen but a monotonous
horizon of sand-hills, with here and there a miserable hamlet. While encamped
on the banks of the little river Bandi, a day’s march from Sambher, we were
invaded by an army of locusts, who had abandoned their sterile country to carry
devastation into the rich plains of the Jumna and Ganges. In the morning they
appeared on the horizon like a thick cloud, and towards mid-day they fell on all
sides of us with a noise resembling that produced by hail. The sky was quite
obscured while this shower lasted, after which the sun reappeared, and we found
that the ground was covered, to a distance of several miles, with a thick layer
of these insects. In a few minutes our tent was besieged ; we had to attack
them in self-defence. At about four o’clock the locusts again took flight, and,
rising in a mass several hundred feet above the ground, continued their course to
the east. I examined some of these locusts, and they did not appear to me to
differ much from those which ravage Eastern Europe and the north of Africa.
Their body measures nearly three inches, and is of a beautiful rose colour; and
their wings are long, transparent, and spotted with brown. These swarms of
locusts are very frequent in these parts, and are much dreaded by the cultivators
of the soil. If they alight in a field when the grain is just shooting, the crop is
completely destroyed. The natives endeavour to scare them away by making a
great noise and smoking them, but I do not know with what success. The
flights of locusts are always followed by great numbers of crows and other birds
of prey, which destroy large quautities of them.

The salt lake of Sambher is an immense sheet of water, about fifty miles *
in circumference, situated on the frontier of the states of J eypore and Joudpore,
forty miles north of Ajmere. The waters of this lake produce, by simple
evaporation, a very pure salt, which constitutes a highly important item in the
revenue of the two rajahs who share the lake. Sambher, the town in Jeypore,
lies to the south-east of the lake, and Maroat in Joudpore to the north-west, at

* Boileau’s Map of Northern Rajwara.
TOWN OF SAMBHER. 257

the foot of the Aravali Mountains. Sambher is a town of some antiquity, having
been founded by Manik Rao, in the year 685; and until the fall of the Rajpoot
empire of Delhi, it remained the appanage of the emperors, who, as chief of all
their titles, bore that of Sambri Rao, gr prince of Sambher. .

The legend relates that Manik, driven from Ajmere by the Mussulmang, fled
for safety to the desert, and there, weakened by misery and privations, he was
preparing to put an end to his life, when the goddess Sacambhari, the tutelary
genius of his race, appeared to him. She promised to fertilise, and give him as
his kingdom, all the land which he could make the circuit of on horseback in a
single day, strictly charging him not to look behind him during his ride.
Manik set off, and had nearly accomplished his task when, forgetting the injunc-
tion of the goddess, he looked back ; upon which, to his unbounded surprise,
instead of a fertile plain his eye rested on a vast sheet of water. However, he

 

HINDOO JEWELLER.

was soon consoled, and established himself on the shores of the lake, where he
founded a town, to which he gave the name of Sacambhar, whence Sambher.
The town itself possesses now but little interest; all the inhabitants are in
the service of the rajahs, and are employed in the salt works. There are a few
ancient monuments, but these are completely in ruins, and the only relic of
antiquity still remaining is the statue of Sacambhari, placed by Manik on an
island near the town. The view of the lake is very fine ; stretching between low
wooded hills until it reaches the branches of the Aravalis, the uneven summits of
which break the horizon. The time we had chosen for our visit was extremely
unfavourable for studying the manner of extracting the salt, and the nature of the
raw material; for the works, which had been interrupted by the monsoon rains,
were not to recommence for a month. However, everything was thoroughly

explained to me, and I saw the enormous blocks of salt like marble, and ee
258 INDIA.

cent transparent crystals. The annual revenue which the two co-proprietors
receive from the salt works of Sambher is said to be very large indeed. The salt
is used throughout the north of India, from Ajmere to Calcutta, and is preferred
to that of the Salt Mountains of the Punjaub, which alone can compete with it.
On returning to Jeypore after this short excursion, it was necessary to think of
continuing our journey, and of making preparations for our departure. On the
2nd October we went to take leave of the rajah, and to thank him for his hospi-
tality and for all the kindness he had shown us. He received us in one of the
kiosks of the palace garden, in presence only of our two friends, the bakshi and
the pundit; and in this last unceremonious interview Ram Sing showed himself
more gracious than usual. He was extremely affable, and asked me several times
whether I was as pleased with my visit to his court as I had been at Oudeypoor
and Baroda. He wished particularly to know my impressions of all that I had
seen here. At length the rose-water and betel-leaves were brought, which the
king himself presented to us, throwing a garland of flowers round our necks;
when, shaking hands with each of us, he wished us a pleasant journey; and we
had not gone many steps before he kissed his hand to us, crying out, “Sahib,
yad rakho!” (“Gentlemen, remember me.”) In the evening we took leave of
some English friends, of whom I can retain only the most agreeable remini-

scences,
CHAPTER XXI.
FEYPORE TO ULWUR.

The Bangunga.—Buswa.—Rajgurh,—Palace of Mirrors.—Ulwur.

“CTOBER 3rp.—We did not leave Jeypore till two o’clock in
the afternoon, having been detained, as usual at the last mo-
ment, by a thousand little difficulties in the organisation of
the caravan. Our horses and two sanis (or riding-dromedaries)
from the royal establishments were to carry us; a dozen camels
bore our luggage, our servants, and tents; and four horsemen
and a hulkara composed our escort.

From Jeypore there is a first-rate road, furnished with dak bungalows kept
up by the native Government, which leads direct to Agra; but, unfortunately,
we were only able to follow it for two days, after which we should have to travel
across country by paths and tracks made by herds of cattle, through a country
with no other shelter but that afforded by our tents.

For some time we skirted the ramparts of Jeypore, passing at the foot of the
Mooti Doungri, or Mountain of Pearls, a curious isolated rock, on which stands
one of the ancient palaces of the kings of Ambir. A narrow and sombre gorge,
Tunning between high mountains, forins a natural passage to the road on leaving
Jeypore. This defile, which is from one to two miles long, abounds in beautiful
scenery ; and there the rich Jeyporians have built temples and delightful villas,
and have laid out the most exquisite gardens, wherein a thousand rivulets
murmur at the foot of gigantic banyan-trees and through groves of the odorifer-
ous shaddock. One may say that it is one of the most striking characteristics
of this part of India thus to offer almost always these contrasts. A line of rocks,
black and beaten by the golden waves of sand from the desert, often conceals a
cool and shady paradise; for, as soon as a barrier stops the sand, you are sure
to find water and fertility on the other side.

As in the pass of Dobarri which leads to Oudeypoor, a strongly fortified gate
closes the entrance to the detile, rendering the approach to Jeypore from the
west totally inaccessible, while on the other sides of the mountains vast plains
extend beyond the horizon. This is the valley of the Bangunga (Sister of the
Ganges), one of the tributaries of the Jumna.

As we advanced, the country became less sandy, better cultivated, and more
wooded than that which we left behind us. Although the road was in very
good repair, the ground was so hilly that we did not reach the dak bungalow
of Mohunpore till eight o’clock in the evening, when we had marched twenty-one

 
260 INDIA.

miles. We found the rooms in very good order, but infested with great black
scorpions, of which we slaughtered several before going to bed.

October 4th.—Mohunpore is a pretty Rajpoot village, surrounded by extensive
fields of cotton and bajri, a kind of millet of large size highly valued in the
country. The grey partridge abounds in these fields, and their shrill cries woke
me early in the morning. I took my gun out, and had some very good sport,
although they lay so close that I was often obliged to throw stones at them to
make them rise. We let our men rest till three o’clock, and then resumed our
march. The country was formed of great undulating plains, very picturesque
in appearance, and mountains could be seen at all points of the horizon. Six
miles from our camp we passed the Jerra-ka Baoli, a magnificent tank, the
general rendezvous of the country travellers. The little town of Jerra is quite
near it, built at the foot of an overhanging rock. After passing this village, a
wide ghaut conducted us into a valley, the dark rich soil of which is consider-
ably lower than the plain above. A few miles farther on we passed the pretty
little town of Jetwara, coquettishly perched on the bank of a nullah; and before
the sun had set we reached Bouranah, where we found a dilapidated and melan-
choly-looking bungalow; when an accident to one of the camels detained us a
whole day. In the evening I sent on our caravan to the village of Goudha to
prepare our camp for the morrow, for we were about to quit the high road, and
should find no more dik bungalows.

October 6th—We left Bouranah at two o’clock in the morning; and during
the night we crossed a monotonous plain, well cultivated but little wooded. I
had occasion to remark a curious phenomenon during this march, which had
never struck me before. The temperature in this country varies at night
between 6 and 7 degrees, and is decidedly cold; but, whenever we passed
beneath one of the huge trees which were scattered over the plain, I felt almost
suffocated with the heat, which I found, on consulting the thermometer, rose to
12 and even to 16 degrees. This enormous difference can only be explained, I
think, by the action of the moon’s rays, which absorb a great part of the caloric
imparted by the sun to the earth; and this action is so rapid that the shade cast
by the branches of a thick tree suffices to establish a notable variation of tem- .
perature from the surrounding atmosphere. An identical phenomenon, though
otherwise originating, may be remarked on approaching masses of rock or large
stone walls. The sensation of heat in the latter case is caused by the escape
of caloric, which takes place at nightfall, from the sudden cooling of the layers
of atmosphere surrounding these bodies, which are overcharged with heat.

Sunrise found us in a beautiful and mountainous country ; in which numerous
villages appeared in the midst of cultivated fields. The mountains around us
form part of the great chain of the Aravalis, which we had been following
since we left Ahmedabad, and which constitute the range called the Mewati
hills.

After passing the first range of hills we reached the Bangunga (Sister of the
Ganges), which draws its water from the Kalikho and Mewati hills, and, after
a course of more than 200 miles, flows into the Jumna. At the point where we
crossed it, though not many miles from its source, the bed of this river was three
or four hundred yards wide, but it was then mostly dry. In the rainy season it
rushes down from the mountain in a foaming torrent, and fills this huge channel ;
RAYGURH. 261

and sometimes overflowing its banks, it covers the surrounding country for a
considerable distance on each side.

On the left bank of the Bangunga stands the town of Goudha, where our
escort awaited us. This little towngsituated in the centre of a fertile country,
has a most agreeable appearance of prosperity; the houses, which are chiefly
built of baked clay, forming streets which are narrow and very irregular, but
remarkably clean. Bur-trees shade the surrounding country, and form a belt of
verdure round the town. Goudha was formerly the appanage and feudal residence
of a Thakour, which was suppressed by Ram Sing. To the north of the town
stands the ancient baronial castle: it is a large fortified building, surrounded by
thick and lofty earth walls, and protected by a deep and wide ditch filled with
water. This castle may be considered the true type of the fortresses in this part
of Rajpootana ; and, although it was built several centuries ago, its form nearly
resembles that of the forts adopted of late years in Europe.

Our tents were pitched at the foot of the fort of Goudha, under an Indian
fig-tree, whose ancient branches formed a dome-like canopy worthy of a
cathedral. The position of our camp was good in all respects, being very
picturesque and delightfully fresh at the same time.

October 7th—We started during the night, and by five o’clock in the morning
we had reached Buswa, a town on the frontier of Jeypore. The high earthen
walls with their small postern gates admitted of our seeing only a few roofs;
and outside the town a camp of Jeyporian soldiers reminded us that we were
travelling through a disturbed country. A few miles farther on we passed the
frontier, marked by a simple milestone at the side of the road, and entered the
territory of the Maharao of Ulwur, the ancient Mewat. The country became
more beautiful as we advanced: mountains with curiously indented peaks
formed huge amphitheatres, the arenas of which were covered with rich plan-
tations and dotted with villages. In point of richness and fertility this country
reminded me of the most beautiful portions of Goojerat, but it possessed a
beauty which one never sees in the plains. A bluish vapour floated over the
fields and along the sides of the mountains; and I could hear the shouts of
the children, the songs of the labourers, and the not inharmonious creaking of
the norias’ wheels, whilst the gongs in the pagodas re-echoed in the valley. The
keen air refreshed me, and everything combined to give this spot an irresistible
attraction. And yet a menacing shadow hung over this happy corner of the
earth. Ram Sing remembers that this beautiful province was wrested from his
predecessors by a rebel vassal; and a quarrel concerning the succession would
give him the opportunity to march with fire and sword through that peaceful
valley, unless the English should interfere.

After several hours’ march through this lovely country, we reached Rajgurh
(House of the King), the ancient capital of the principality, which occupies a
circular valley entirely surrounded by peaked hills. Here our arrival was
expected; and, the Maharao having given orders for our welcome, we were
conducted straight to the Gunga Baugh (Garden of the Ganges), a magnificent
garden, where we found a charming little summer palace half buried in a
grove of orange-trees on the bank of a lovely sheet of water. The Kotwal, or
chief officer of the town, did the honours, and presented us, on the part of the
prince, with a magnificent gift of fruit, vegetables, and fowls.
INDIA.

262

Rajgurh is a town of some antiquity ; it was founded by one of the Raos
of Matchery on the site of an ancient capital of the Mynas. From its position,
surrounded by mountains, it reminded me of Ambir, but it is far inferior to it
in wild beauty. The quarters of the town are built on more level ground at
the bottom of the valley, and are traversed by long and broad streets in every
direction. It is only fifty or sixty years since it was finally abandoned by the
Raos of Matchery, who became Rajahs of Ulwur; and although a great part
of the town is deserted, it still possesses one or two. thriving bazaars. The
most interesting quarter is that of the nobles, with its splendid palaces, its
immense courts paved with marble, and its numerous temples. Nothing has
been moved; and I was surprised, in wandering through these vast halls, to
pass through porticos where the ancient draperies were still hanging, and to
find myself in these magnificent apartments which have been abandoned for

Kae oa
Lr aoe

 

FRESCO IN THE SHEESH MAHAL, AT RAJGURH.

ever. Here and there a fig-tree had sprung up between the slabs of marble,
and had begun its slow but sure work of destruction; and thus in a few years
these walls will crumble to pieces, quite independently of the carelessness of the
inhabitants. To the north of the town rises a steep rock, on the summit of which
stands the noble fortress of the Raos. From the valley its aspect is very for-
midable ; and its loopholed walls, which can be seen on the plateau, are connected
by covered ways with a mass of towers and bastions which protect the base; above
which the palace ascends in stages—an elegant building of mixed feudal and
Rajpoot architecture. Access is had to the fortress by a very steep ascent pro-
tected by loopholed parapets and numerous guard-houses. The kiladar, or
governor of the fort, came out to meet us with his staff, and ascended th? slope
with us, making us stop occasionally to admire the magnificent panorama
opening on our view, as we approached the summit. We took in at a glance
THE SHEESH MAHAL, 263

the whole town with its lofty white houses; golden pinnacles standing out in
bold relief from the background of the sombre forests which clothed the sides
of the Aravalis. The palace, which we next reached after having passed several
gates armed with huge bolts and irgn spikes, and crossed several immense courts,
was very beautiful. It is built entirely of fine white marble, as pure and sparkling
as that of Paros, which is brought from the huge quarries of Shekhawati; and it
is composed of a succession of halls and rooms encompassing several small courts
ornamented with galleries. It must be a delightful habitation, for, from its
elevated position and the disposition of the buildings, a perpetual freshness reigns
there.

In the centre of the palace stands a small but very remarkable building, called
the Sheesh Mahal, or Palace of Mirrors. The principal hall is inlaid with pieces
of glass of different colours, amongst which are placed beautiful golden arabesques ;
and the panels are ornamented with curious frescoes representing the principal
Raos of Matchery and mythological and other scenes. These frescoes are
executed with great delicacy, and most of them contain thousands of figures.
There is a verandah in front of this hall, supported by fine marble pillars, the
dome of which, worked in stucco, is made to represent a golden curtain em-
broidered with flowers and animals. On the right-hand side of the verandah
hangs a superb picture, representing the descent of King Pertab Sing into the
Elysian fields where Krishna reigns; on the other side there is a fresco of the
same dimensions, representing the enthronement of Pertab Sing, presided over
by Krishna.

On leaving the Sheesh Mahal we walked along the magnificent terraces,
surrounded by elegant kiosks, from which we could see the whole surrounding
country as far as Ulwur, the new capital.

We descended into the town, as the sun disappeared behind the mountain.
The inhabitants were issuing from their houses, and filling the bazaars, while
numbers of monkeys appeared on the roofs. These monkeys of Rajgurh are quite
different from their congeners of the Kalikhos; they are short and squat, tawny
brown in colour, with pink faces and chests, and tails only a few inches long, and are
considered inferior in caste to the noble langours—the civilised monkeys of the
valley of Ambir. At length we reached the Guerga Bagh, which we found invaded
by the young men of the town, who had come to bathe in the sacred lake in the
centre of the garden. The air was laden with the scent of thousands of orange-
trees, pomegranates, and other. scented shrubs which surrounded our pavilion, and
the joyous laughter of the bathers re-echoed in the thick wood. We passed the
evening in this delightful retreat, where we received a visit from the kotwal, the
kiladar, and the chief inhabitants of the town.

October gth—At three o’clock in the morning we left Rajgurh, and reached
Malakhera at eight. This village is situated on a slight eminence, a few hundred
yards from the edge of a huge forest; at the entrance to which stands the feudal
fortress of the Thakour, with its ancient and half-ruined turrets and ‘its earthen
ramparts. Our men pitched the camp at the foot of a gigantic banyan-tree, whose
huge limbs afforded an abundant shade for our tents and equipage; and not far
from us were some rugged ravines inhabited by numerous herds of half-wild
swine, who made incursions into our camp. In the course of the day the Thakour
paid us a visit. Having been advised of our arrival by the Maharao, his liege
264 INDIA.

lord, he hastened to furnish us with a zwrbari * for all necessary provisions. In
the evening, however, an annoying accident occurred to interrupt our friendly
intercourse with our host. After an excursion in the neighbourhood, which
abounded with game, we returned with several antelopes, amongst which, by ill
luck, one of the sowars recognised the body of a favourite animal of the
Thakour’s, which had escaped a few days previously. Having been immediately
informed of it, the chief came himself to claim the body, no doubt to bestow
upon it a ceremonious burial; and although I acceded at once to his request,
and expressed my deep regret at the accident which I could not prevent, he
retired, taking with him his poor favourite, without even answering me.

October 10th.—Very early the next morning we left Malakhera, and, after a
rapid march of four hours, reached the suburbs of Ulwur at daylight. In spite
of the early hour, we met Kangi Mull, the Rao’s secretary, who, saluting us in
the name of the prince, conducted us to the palace of Armondjan Baugh, where
everything was prepared for our reception. The Sirdar, having shown us our
apartments, announced to us that the Rao had placed at our complete disposal
this princely residence, with the servants, provisions, and wine therein, as well as
the stables, well stocked with horses, carriages, and elephants. Such a reception
surpassed all that I had expected, and I did not attempt to conceal the fact from
Kangi, begging him to thank the prince in my name.

The palace of Armondjan, an elegant building constructed in a handsome style
of marble and white sandstone, in the centre of a huge garden, consists of two
pavilions connected by colonnades, and is situate on a lofty terrace overlooking
the garden ; and its flat roof, composed of stone slabs, forms a second terrace, from
which can be seen the town and the mountains.

The interior is well arranged. The rooms, simply but richly decorated, are
protected from the sun’s rays by deep verandahs, and open into small interior
courts, which are planted with flowers; and they each had bath-rooms attached,
wherein were ranged the heavy gurhas of iced water.

Adjoining this palace is the Mooti Baugh, the summer residence of the rajah,
in which the English Residents formerly lived. It is an immense palace, of
beautiful architecture, with a large park laid out as in England. Farther on rises
an isolated hill, conical in form, the sides of which, cut into terraces, form hanging
gardens, rising up to the summit, which is crowned by a pavilion. This is the
Mooti Doongree, or Pearl Rock, to which the Rao goes every evening to breathe
the fresh air issuing from these balmy forests. He visited it on the evening of
our arrival, and we could see him examining us curiously from his lofty observatory
through his glasses. I do not know whether they enabled him to see that we
were undecided whether to ascend and pay our respects to him, or to await an
official invitation ; at any rate, he sent a choubdar to say that he would be happy
to see us at the palace on the following day. This evening I sent back my
Jeyporian escort.

* Zurbari is the act of submission to a royal mandate, ordering provisions to be furnished to travellers
or envoys.
CHAPTER XXII
ULWUR.

sal LWUR is situated about ninety miles to the north of J eypore,
in the chain of the Kalikho Mountains which branch from
the Aravalis at Ambir.

We find no historical mention of this country until about
the year 1265, when the Emperor Ghaias Oudin invaded it,
to punish its inhabitants for their brigandage, which they had
the insolence to carry up to the very gates of Delhi; but the dreadful massacre
which he ordered seems to have had but little effect on them, for at a much later
date we find them enjoying the reputation of being inveterate bandits. Towards
the year 1720, Pertab Rao of Matchery, a chief of Dhoundhar, who succeeded in
taking the country from the Moguls, established his capital at Rajgurh; and his
successor, who in 1774 offered his services to Delhi against the terrible Jats by
way of obtaining pardon for his usurpation, was rewarded with the title of
Maharao Rajah, and the recognition of his independence. Separating himself com-
pletely from Jeypore, of which he appropriated several provinces, he founded
the kingdom of Matchery, and permanently established his capital at Ulwur.
When the English began to interfere in the affairs of Hindostan, the Maharaos at
once espoused their cause, and succeeded, by this act of policy, in securing the
integrity of their possessions.

The state of Ulwur has since been recognised as the ally of England. Its
revenue is not considerable.

The reigning sovereign is Sheodan Sing, fourteenth Maharao Rajah of Ulwur,
who ascended the throne in 1858, at the age of fourteen. During his minority
his States were governed by an administrative council, presided over by an
English political agent.

The day after our arrival, accompanied by Kangi, we went to visit the town.
You enter it by a magnificent avenue of fine trees, which, extending through the

‘populous suburbs, terminates at the principal gate called Delhi. The first sight
of Ulwur is most remarkable, situated as it is at the entrance of a circle of lofty
mountains with fantastically jagged peaks, and constructed in the form of an
amphitheatre, on a hill crowned with numerous palaces. It is surrounded by a
continuous line of fortifications, with bastions connected by curtains with the
forts which occupy every summit. The steep declivities of the mountains are
covered with rich vegetation, seeming as though suspended above the town; which
is enclosed towards the plain by a continuous forest of gardens; and their

 
S66 INDIA.

summits are composed of milk-white quartz, slightly variegated, which, when
lit up by the sun, gives to them the appearance of glaciers.

The town is entered through arched gateways, defended by cannon, and of a
somewhat formidable appearance. Apparently it is densely populated; the
houses are crowded together and dirty, and you cannot thread your way through
the bazaars without difficulty. It is intersected, however, by several wide and
well-kept streets, which lead from each gate to the centre of the town, where a
vast cupola is erected. This structure is very interesting, as it serves as a bazaar,
and contains a great number of stalls, placed at the intersection of the several
streets and in the upper storeys.

The royal palace, which is situated on the summit of the hill, consists of a
large group of buildings in various styles of architecture, some of which are detached.
It was begun in 1780, and is still far from being finished—at least, as far as the
original plan is concerned.

A monumental gateway, flanked by two beautiful pagodas, leads into the
first court, which is of large dimensions, but contains only a few large buildings,
used as stables; the whole of one side being composed of huts and small houses
occupied by the inferior servants of the palace. A second gateway, covered with
a medley of coarse frescoes, leads into another court, on a higher level than the
first, where there is a superb palace in the Italian style. Its exterior is
ornamented with marble pilasters; but, as the building did not meet with
Sheodan Sing’s approbation, the works have been discontinued for several years,
which gives it a ruined and melancholy appearance.

At length you reach the real Rajpoot palace, constructed on the plan of Digh,
and stretching the whole length of a terrace which overlooks the town. It is
built almost entirely of white marble. Cloisters with indented arches surround
a court, paved with black and white marble, into which opens the great audience-
chamber, a marvel of beauty; with but one fault, that of being a copy of the
Hall of Digh, but possessing the advantage of being built of marble instead of
sandstone.

The interior of the palace is very simple, and ornamented with great taste,
with the exception of a few apartments furnished in the European style, where
are collected a heterogeneous mass of furniture and other articles from our manu-
factories, which are the admiration of the natives. The architect’s plan for doing
without stairs was an excellent one, particularly in this enervating country. The
palace has as many as three or four storeys, all of which, reached by means of gently
inclined corridors, prevent the ascent from being fatiguing ; and, like most of the
palaces in India, it contains a Sheesh Mahal, or Chamber of Crystals, in which
are aggregated all the richest of decorations and mosaics. There is a great
difference beween modern art and the wonderful architecture of Ambir, or even of
Rajgurh ; but still the decorations here are extremely artistic, and of indescribable
wealth and richness.

Intervening between the palace and the base of the mountains is a small
pond, which is indeed one of the most curious and picturesque spots in India.
The buildings of the palace and of the zenana oceupy the eastern side of it; on
the south, situated on a high terrace of pink sandstone, is the Mausoleum of the
Rajah Buktawur Sing; on the west, the conical-shaped mountains of Ulwur,
crowned with battlements and mantled with forests, overhang the sheet of water,
MAUSOLEUM OF RA¥AH BUKTAWUR. 267

leaving only a narrow strip of land, crowded with fairy-like palaces and temples ;
and, on the north, rises a fantastic pyramidal hill, covered with blocks of marble,
interspersed with temples and verdure, and surmounted by a castle of great
strength, at an elevation of more thap a thousand feet. Such is the mere outline
or sketch of the picture, but no description can give any idea of its beauty; and
I am happy to be able to refer the reader to the view which I took of this
picturesque scene.

The Mausoleum of Rajah Buktawur is a good specimen of Rajpoot architecture
in the last century, being a combination of the Indo-Saracenic and Jain styles of

 

 

 

THE LAKE AT ULWUR,.

architecture. Built entirely of marble, it rests upon a pedestal of rose-coloured
sandstone; and the dome is of a singular shape, terminating in a massive stone
pinnacle.

After visiting these places, Kangi conducted us to the Maharao, who was
awaiting us. Surrounded only by a few intimate friends, he received us without
ceremony, on one of the beautiful upper terraces of the palace. The reception,
268 INDIA.

indeed, was most affable, and he listened with great apparent interest to what I
told him as to the object of our travels. Then came the usual questions con-
cerning France, Russia, our European organisation, and the relative power of each
country, which I answered to the best of my ability. He is quite a young man,
and looks even less than his age, for he is very short, although remarkably well
made, with hands and feet of almost feminine delicacy.

The audience lasted half an hour, but we were invited to remain longer, and
presently the prince himself conducted us through the palace, displaying his
treasures and his favourite objects with a somewhat boyish. pleasure and satis-
faction. He continued thus chatting with us until we reached the court, where
our carriage awaited us: but here a chamberlain reminded him of his inadvertence,
and of the attention due to etiquette; upon which he took leave of us. Four
men then came forward, bearing on their shoulders a light chair, overlaid with
plates of chased silver and lined with damask; the prince entered it, and
was carried by the sturdy bearers up through the inclined corridors to his
apartments. é

On the very next day the Maharao returned our visit unexpectedly at the
Armondjan Baugh, partly, no doubt, as a proof of his goodwill towards us, and
largely, also, out of curiosity. This visit, as might be supposed, set the example
to the whole Court, and for the next few days we were overwhelmed by visits
from all the courtiers, from the Dewan to the Kotwal of the town.

Sheodan Sing, like all Rajpoots, is passionately fond of hunting. We
accompanied him on some very pleasant hunting excursions to the gorges of the
Aravali Mountains, in the neighbourhood of the town, and succeeded in killing
several panthers and a very fine tiger.

On one of these occasions I had an accident, which, although not uncommon,
often causes the hunter’s death. We were in a narrow defile, a few leagues from
the town, and, the beaters having signalled the approach of a panther, the hunters
had placed themselves at the entrance of the ravine, through which it would have
to pass. I was mounted that day on one of the Rao’s elephants, a magnificent
animal, which had for a long time been employed in these expeditions. When
the panther, scared by the noise of the beaters, emerged from the thicket, a ball
from the prince’s rifle rolled him over a few paces in front of us. I was just
taking aim to put an end to his misery, when my elephant, trembling violently,
suddenly faced about. The shock nearly upset me, and made my gun go off,
whereupon the elephant, panic-struck, went off through the jungle at full speed,
in spite of the mahout’s efforts to stop him. These sudden panics are not un-
frequent, even among elephants which have been trained for tiger-hunting. On
such occasions, blinded by fear, they take to flight, breaking through every
obstacle, running against the trees, and often crushing the howdah and the
huntsman against some branch. The mahout’s presence of mind saved me from
sharing the fate of Absolom. Striking the animal with all his strength over the
head with his iron staff, he succeeded in guiding him towards the bottom of the
valley, which was covered only with low, thorny bushes; where, after going on for
a quarter of an hour, he stopped short, quite out of breath, and allowed himself
to be guided without resistance.

The festival of the Dussera was at hand. I have already had occasion to
describe it at the Court of Baroda, and will not now revert to its origin. Here,

r
“FESTIVAL OF THE DUSSERA. 269

in the country of the Rajpoots, the customs vary a little, and the festivities are
even more popular than in the Maharatta countries, I have also spoken of the

extraordinary license in Hindoo society during these festivities, and of the poetical
legend which originated it.

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THE MAHARAO RAJAH OF ULWUR.

On the occasion of the Dussera it is the custom here for the nautch girls to
choose a patron from among the distinguished personages of the Court, and to
assemble at his palace to execute the religious dances of | the Nauratri (nine
nights), where they establish themselves during the festival, living at his expense.
270 INDIA,

Every year their choice falls on a different person, who is either the most con-
spicuous or one from whom they hope to obtain the most.

One morning, to my great astonishment, the doorkeeper of the Armondjan
palace came, and told me that the entrance to the garden was besieged by two or
three hundred nautch girls, with musicians, &c., who, having chosen our residence
for the scene of the Nauratri dances, demanded admittance. After consulting
those around me, I found that it would be difficult, even had I wished it, to avoid
this custom, which was for the first time applied to a European; but, not know-
ing the habits of these people, I thought at first that it was all a hoax.

The consent was given, and in a few minutes the garden was overrun. The
avenues and shrubberies were filled with a gaily dressed crowd of young girls;
some in tight pantaloons of embroidered silk, with caps set on one side of their
heads, and others in plaited kangras with golden belts.

The crowd was in perpetual motion, and produced, with its brilliant and varied
colours, quite the effect of a gigantic kaleidoscope. Soon the kiosks, which sur-
round the garden, began to fill, small tents were pitched, the fires were lighted,
and in the twinkling of an eye the garden of the Armondjan was transformed into
a camp.

A deputation of musicians was first sent to settle with me the hour for the
ceremony of the salam, or presentation, which lasts several days. The nautch
girls were to pass before us in troops, executing their various songs and dances,
and each receiving a few rupees—an important detail to them. I do not intend
to carry my reader through these long ceremonies, which, although interesting at
first, became tedious in the course of a few days. The daytime was devoted to
the salam, and the evening to the religious dances of the Nauratri, which were
held on the upper terrace of the palace; where an immense carpet covered the
ground, and torches dipped in resin blazed on all sides, vieing with the stars in
brilliancy. The huge platform was occupied by a compact circle of women,
sparkling with precious stones and spangles, in the centre of which a nautch
girl danced with a languishing air to the ancient music of the Indian religion.
The scene was really quite romantic. The crowd of women only partially visible
by the uncertain light of the torches above us; the star-bespangled vault of
heaven; below us the waving tops of the palm-trees and nims diffusing their
intoxicating fragrance; the fresh mountain breeze, which came charged with the
scents of the forest, all combined to give a peculiar charm to these evenings.
For the next ten days the palace of Armondjan was a scene of great festivity, the
Rao himself being present on several occasions, no doubt wishing to see how we
should act under the circumstances. The people of the country were greatly
astonished that, following the example of other Europeans, we had not attempted
to avoid the local customs, and thus offended those who wished to honour us.

Here, as at Baroda, the festival of the Dussera winds up with a grand pro-
cession, when the Maharao reviews his whole force. It cannot compete in mag-
nificence with the Sowari of the Guicowar, but it is nevertheless an interesting
ceremony. The principal feature is a car with two platforms, one above the
other, drawn by four elephants, and called “In Durban ;” which is surmounted
by three domes, overlaid with gold and hung with rich draperies. On his throne
in the centre of it sits the prince, surrounded by the chief personages of his
Court; and a corps of gunners on dromedaries, each having a blunderbuss on a
CONCLUSION OF THE DUSSERA. 271

pivot fixed to the saddle in front of him, surrounds the car, accompanying it from
the gates of the town with the most deafening salutes. The rest of the procession
is formed of the regular troops, partly dressed in imitation of the English sepoys.

The Sowari proceeds to a palace, gbout a mile from the town, overlooking the
scene of operations, There the courtiers take their places in the galleries; in the
centre of which are two thrones, one occupied by the Rao, the other by a silver
idol of the god Rama. In front of the palace is erected a coarse effigy, made of
wicker-work, about twenty feet high, representing the giant Ravana, king of
Lunka, the implacable enemy of Rama. A dense crowd covers the esplanade,
only leaving a narrow path from the palace to the foot of the effigy. As the sun
disappears below the horizon, the Rajah rises, and, leaning over the balcony, cries
with a loud voice to a messenger mounted on a camel, “Go and ask Ravana if we
are to prepare for war.” The saniwallah goes off at a gallop, and returns with a
negative answer from the. god. Various other questions are then asked and
answered, all tending to show that the Rao’s army is invincible, and that his
enemies, alarmed at his preparations, intend to preserve universal peace. The
signal is then given, the cannons thunder, the match is put to the combustibles
with which the effigy is filled, and the ghastly spectre of war burns and crackles
in the flames, amidst the acclamations of the crowd. It was at this ceremony
that the princes formerly announced to the assembled people and army the
expeditions which were about to take place.

What with festivities and researches, we prolonged our visit at Ulwur until
nearly the end of October; and we were on the point of starting for Delhi, when
an official notice informed us that the Viceroy of India had just convoked all the
kings and princes of Rajesthan to an imperial Durbar, which was to be held at
Agra in November. We were strongly advised to be present at it, as there had
not been a similar ceremony since the government of Lord William Bentinck, and
as this Durbar would surpass all those which had preceded it, both in the
number of the princes who would attend in answer to the Viceroy’s invitation,
and in the splendour with which it would be conducted.

The Maharao also had received an invitation to the Durbar from the Governor-
General, and was making preparations to attend it; and he invited us to accom-
pany him, This determined us to go, for a journey with a rajah could not fail to
offer us some interest.
CHAPTER XXIII.
FROM ULWUR TO AGRA.

A Royal Camp.—Digh.—The Palace of the Rajah of Bhurtpore.—The Festivities at Digh,—
Secundra.

HE last days of the month were employed by the Maharao in
making preparations for his departure ; and you can understand
that it was by no means a small undertaking, since his whole
Court accompanied him, together with an escort of 3000 men.
The prince had to take his state-tents and a part of the furni-

} ture from his palace, so that, during his stay at Agra, he might

receive the representatives of the English Government in a suitable manner. His

elephants and horses would necessarily follow in his suite, together with dancers,
musicians, and the thousand parasites who form part of the establishment of |

Asiatic princes. Besides all this, we had our camp, comprising several tents, one

of the chief’s khansamahs, two cooks, eight bearers, four sowars, and about fifteen

ferashes, lascars, and hulkaras, besides our servants. Four saddle-horses, two
riding-dromedaries, ten camels, and four carriages completed our outfit.

_ On the 31st of October the Rao started for Halena, where he was to meet

Colonel E , the Viceroy’s Agent, naming Govindgurh, the second stage, as

our place of rendezvous. Our tents had gone the evening before to Ramgutrh,

situated about fourteen miles from Ulwur, where the camp was formed ; accord-
ingly, bidding adieu to Armondjan, we set out on our journey.

On leaving Ulwur towards the east, one enters the beautiful valley which is
fertilised by the sacred waters of the Jumna and its tributaries. The land, at
this season of the year, is clothed in all its riches; the gigantic jowar grows on
each side of the way to the height of the camels’ saddles, the cotton-tree opens
its clusters of snow-white balls, and the bajri bends its heavy head with the
weight of the seed. The country looks fresh and green from the absence of
regular roads; the way at intervals being broad and furrowed by numberless ruts,
and again a mere track winding across the plains. Its extent was covered with
stragglers ; and tattered soldiers, looking like banditti, with their English uniforms
carefully folded and suspended to the end of their muskets, were marching in
picturesque troops, stopping at the corners of the roads to smoke, or sleeping
stretched out on their backs round the tanks. Picturesque rhutts, a kind of light
carriage surmounted by a dome of wicker-work enclosed with red curtains, and
drawn by active little oxen, passed us full of young women, the nautch girls, who
filled the air with their songs and laughter. All these people, whether invited

 

 
A ROYAL CAMP IN PROGRESS. 273

or not, followed the king on his march, and lived at his expense. There is not a
living thing, down to the wretched pariah dog in the bazaars, which does not
join in the festivities and follow the caravans on these occasions.

' On arriving at Ramgurh we fownd that the greater part of the camp had
taken its departure. It is always very annoying in a campaign to arrive after an
army on the march, but the khansamah, like a sharp fellow, had from the first
employed his messengers so well that we had enough to keep us well supplied for a
considerable time. The Rao, too, had provided our cellar department. Baskets
of Bordeaux, champagne, hock, &c., followed us, and, as the jolting of the carts or
the swaying motion of the camels might have injured these precious liquors, they
were carefully suspended to long bamboos and carried by banghy-coolies,

Ramgurh, where we passed the night, is a tolerably flourishing little town.
During the following day we resumed our journey. The country as far as Govind-
gurh is very beautiful, highly cultivated and covered with villages picturesquely
situated amongst the rocks, which rise on all sides.

At Govindgurh we found the royal camp pitched on a large plain at the foot
of an ancient fortress. It covered a large extent of ground, and presented a very
striking effect, with its long lines of tents striped red and blue, and its droves of
camels and elephants. An Indian is always happy on the march. In front of
each tent a fireplace was built of bricks, on which the odoriferous curry, and the
national bread called chupatti, were being cooked. The tents were pitched with
regularity, and exactly on the spots marked out by the officials.

At the very foot of the fort, away from the smell and noise of the camp, were
placed the royal tents, surrounded by a high khanat or wall of red cloth, which
hides the abode of the Rao and Ranees from vulgar eyes. In front of this cloth
palace there was an open square, surrounded by the encampment of the Sirdars,
the king’s officers, and our tents; and a lofty flagstaff was planted in the centre of
it, from the top of which floated the royal standard, the five-coloured Panchranghi.
At its foot were stationed the royal guard and several pieces of artillery, for the
morning and evening salutes. One could see that there was a certain amount of
order in these expeditions, and indeed it is quite necessary with such a fickle and
noisy population.

Let us now make our way through the middle of the camp, to its other
extremity ; where a second square, similar to the rajah’s, was placed. There also
floated a standard, that of the Kotwal, but it was red. Around this flagstaff were
ranged the police offices, the tom-toms, and iron handcuffs for malefactors. On
one side of the square were the shops kept by the Buniahs, in which dainties as
well as the necessary provisions were sold; on the other stood stalls where bang
and arrack were sold, besides the low tents of the women and all the interlopers
who follow an army on the march.

At nine o’clock, the report of a cannon announced the curfew, and silence fell
upon the camp; everything slept, and soon nothing was to be heard but the shrill
“khuburdar” of the sentinels, alternating with the “Kén anewalla?” or “Who
goes there?” which accompanied the regular rounds, At daybreak another
cannon roused the camp. I went outside my tent; but everything was as yet
quiet; the air was cold and keen, and a veil of bluish vapour hung round the
tops of the tents, In the square several Rajpoot soldiers were huddled, shivering

round a fire; while in front of the-palace a company of athletic mercenary
8
274 INDIA,

Beloochees, standing in a line, were saying their morning prayers. They bowed,
raised themselves again, and prosttated themselves before the sun, which indicated
the position of Mecca to them, with the air of automatons, As soon as the sun’s
rays began to gild the earth, this ants’ nest was roused.
The Maharao had joined the camp during the night, and we were not going
to proceed on our journey till the next day. As for me, with the exception of a
rapid expedition against the snipe in the neighbouring marshes, I passed the day

 

THE GOPAL BHOWAN IN THE PALACE OF DIGH,

in amusing myself with the scenes which surrounded me, so full of life, colour,
and originality. What a subject for an artist! And what a pity that our artists
are satisfied with their conventional East, which extends no further than Egypt,
or, at the most, Asia Minor! In the evening we visited the ancient fortress with
Sheodan Sing, but it afforded little interest.

On the night of the 3rd of November we quitted Govindgurh, in company
with the rajah. The road was obstructed by artillery and camp baggage, and it
was not till daybreak that we passed the frontier of the states of Bhurtpore, near
DIGH. oi

Nuggur, a tolerably important town. To the mountains now succeeded great
stony plains, of a sterile and desolate appearance; and at eight o’clock we
reached Digh, whose marble cupolas appeared rising out of a green oasis.

Digh is one of the most ancient @ities of India. Under the name of Diragh
or Diraghpoura, it rivalled Muthra even in the time of Krishna, that is, about
fifteen centuries before the Christian era.

‘It is at present the capital of the Jat kingdom of Bhurtpore. Its magnificent

 

OAMP AT THE GATE OF THE SECUNDRA GARDENS.

fortifications, built in 1730 by King Souraj-Mull, made it possible in 1805 for a
few French officers, in the service of Scindia, there to check for a time the
victorious army of Lord Lake, after the great battle of Laswara, Ist November
1803. Souraj-Mull also built a splendid palace at Digh, about the year 1725,
which is considered a masterpiece of modern Hindoo art. -It is composed of
several Bhowans, or detached pavilions, surrounded by a very large garden,
placed between two pieces of water, outside the citadel. :

The principal edifice is the Gopal Bhowan, built on a high terrace on the
276 INDIA.

bank of the western pond. Its front on the water-side is very elegant, with its
balconies and colonnades, and the two marble kiosks which, as it were, frame
it. But the most wonderful building is the Dewan Khas, or great audience-
hall; a magnificent hall, supported by several rows of columns in a suitable
style.

The gardens are planted with orange and other fruit trees, and intersected by
beautiful and shady avenues paved with stone, and are irrigated by canals; and
they are surrounded by splendid pavilions, in the style of the Gopal Bhowan,
communicating with each other by terraces, which are the abodes of the ladies
and nobles. One of them sup-
ports huge resorvoirs which
feed a complicated network
of fountains.

At the end of the central
walk, in front of the Dewan
Khas, there is a fine sheet of
water, overlooked by a terrace,
planted with large trees and
adorned with several kiosks.
One of these kiosks, called the
Muchee Bhowan, or “ Abode
of Fish,” is a light stone
building, surrounded at its
summit by a gutter; which,
when the great fountains play,
discharges a sheet of water
in the form of a crystal, with
numberless jets radiating on
all sides in the shape of
bouquets.

On the opposite bank
rises a lofty and sombre tower,
of considerable size, armed with
huge guns. This was the don-
jon of Souraj-Mull’s citadel.

A hulkara had come to
Govindgurh to announce to
the Maharao that the Rajah
of Bhurtpore had placed the apartments of the palace at Digh at his dis-
posal. The Rao accordingly took possession of the Gopal Bhowan, and we
installed ourselves in one of the south-western pavilions, called the Nandh Bhowan.
This little palace, built of white marble, is a perfect gem ; its walls, both inside
and out, being covered with a profusion of mosaics in precious stones, which came
from the mausoleum at Secundra, which Souraj-Mull pillaged in 1761. The
apartments which we occupied were unique; the ground being paved with fine
marble, in which beautiful bouquets of flowers are represented by onyx, lapis-
lazuli, and agate; the skirting-boards, partitions, and cornices glittering with
gilding and mosaics, and the doors and ceilings being decorated with fine Indian

 

NAUTCH GIRL OF ULWUR.
SECUNDRA. 277

miniatures. The rooms are small and low, but deliciously fresh, and are lighted
by indented arched windows looking out into the garden.

The Rao had intended to have resumed the march the same evening, but we
were very comfortable there, and the Kamdar of Bhurtpore promised us a grand
féte ; so we remained there another day.

During the day the old Nawab of Tonk, the former chief of the Pindari
brigands, whe was encamped at no great distance, came to have a look at the
wonders of Digh, and paid us a visit at the Nandh Bhowan.

On the 14th we were present, with Sheodan Sing, at a nautch, which was
given us by the authorities of Digh in the court of our pavilion. The dancers,
who were women, were of the Jat tribe, and belonged to the temples of the town;
and they went through several religious dances of an original character. At twelve
o'clock the garden gates were opened to the people of Ulwur, and the great water-
works began to play. There was scarcely anything but simple jets, though of
these there was an immense number; but they did not present that variety of
combination which may be seen at Versailles and other parks.

The principal fountain is the Muchee Bhowan, and the effect it produces is
charming. The Rao, followed by all his court, walked ceremoniously round the
garden, stopping at each basin. The entrance to the Muchee Bhowan looks
dangerous and slippery, and it is difficult to penetrate to the interior without
getting wet. We entered, however; and, when once we were inside, those
practical jokes commenced which are so much relished there, and which enabled
us to escape only at the expense of a thorough wetting.

In the evening, sweetmeats and cakes made with melted butter were distributed
to the people of the camp in the garden; and two tables, richly served, were placed
in the Dewan Khas, one for the prince and a few of-his friends, and the other for
us. After dinner the féte was terminated by a general illumination—Bengal lights
and fireworks.

We left Digh on the 5th, and after a march of three days through the rich
English province of Agra, encamping first at Sonk, then at Ferah, and hunting
each day with the Rao, we reached the small town of Secundra. In this place is
built the wonderful mausoleum of the Emperor Akbar, the greatest monarch of his
day in India. Agra was now only a few miles distant from us, but the forms of
etiquette prevented the Maharao from entering until the 10th. We passed the
few intervening days with him hunting on the Jumna, which flows near Secundra,
whilst the evenings were given up to the amusements of the Diwali.

On the roth the English authorities, represented by several Political Agents,
came officially to meet the Maharao, and we all entered Agra together; he to
encamp in the suburb of Shahgunge, and we in the cantonments, among some
good friends who had offered us their hospitality.
CHAPTER XXIV.

AGRA.

The Fortress of Akbar.—The Mosque of Pearls—The Taj.—The Mausoleum of Etmaddowlah.—
The Gardens of the Jumna.

GRA, the capital of the North-west Provinces of Bengal, is one of
the principal cities of India, and its magnificent monuments have
rendered it celebrated throughout the whole world.

In the first centuries of our era it was the capital of a Pal
kingdom, but it had become nothing more than an insignificant
Jat town when the Emperor Secunder, of the Pathan dynasty

of the Lodis, established himself there in 1488; and, in 1523, Shere Shah, the

successful rival of Houmayoun, constructed a citadel: round the palace of the

Lodis, on an eminence near the Jumna. The grandeur of Agra dates only from

the reign of Akbar, who, in 1556, made it the capital of the Mogul Empire, giving

it the name of Akbarabad (by which name it is still called by the natives), and
enriching it with numerous monuments. Razing the Pathan fortress to the
ground, he replaced it with a vast citadel, with marble palaces and mosques, like

a second Acropolis. Jehanghir and Shah Jehan carried on the work of Akbar,

and endowed Agra with the Etmaddowlah and the Taj, a marvel of marvels; but,

after the death of the Empress Mumtazi Mahal, Shah Jehan abandoned Agra, and
took up his residence at Delhi.

Since then this opulent city has experienced many reverses. After the battle
of Paniput, which marked the downfall of the Mogul Empire in 1761, it was
sacked by the savage Jats of Souraj-Mull: fifteen years later the Mahrattas
carried off all that had escaped the rapacity of the Jats; and finally, in 1803, the
city was taken from Scindia by Lord Lake, and has since remained in the
possession of the English. Under the administration of its new masters it has
recovered from its misfortunes. Its population, which fell from 700,000 to
10,000, now numbers 190,000, and it bids fair to become a great emporium of
commerce in the East Indies. Situated on the right bank of the Jumna, a
magnificent tributary of the Ganges, it is connected by its railways with Bengal,
the Deccan, and the Punjaub. This advantageous position enables it to hold
commercial intercourse with Rajpootana and the rich province of Doab.

The town itself is clean and cheerful, but is of little interest, as it is only just
rising from its ruins. To build a house it is only necessary to dig, when the
materials, consisting of stones and bricks of the time of Akbar, will be found
ready to hand. On the south-west, about a mile from the town, are the English

 
PALACE OF JUSTICE. 279

cantonments, consisting of a great number of fine buildings surrounded by gardens,
the barracks, bazaars, and several churches,

The fortress of Akbar lies to the south of the town, on the banks of the
Jumna, and covers a considerable area. It is enclosed by a line of monumental
walls of red sandstone, with indented battlements, measuring twenty-five yards
above the ditch, and there are four gateways, with drawbridges ; and in front of
this first line there used to be a row of bastions, but they are now in ruins.
This fortress looks imposing, and even formidable ; but its walls, which are built
of enormous blocks of stone, would not stand a sharp cannonade. This was the
case when Lord Lake besieged the town. The first shots did such damage that
the place had to surrender at once.

The principal gate of the citadel faces the north, and in front of it rises the
Jummah Musjid, or Cathedral Mosque of Agra. It is a noble structure, of the
time of Akbar, standing on a marble terrace ; the exterior is of red sandstone,

 

 

SPECIMENS OF CARVING ON THE GATES OF SOMNATH, IN THE FORT OF AGRA.

relieved by bands of marble; there are three pointed gateways, and the whole is
surmounted by three Mogul domes of great height.

The first thing you come to, after crossing the drawbridge, is the Dewani-Am,
or Palace of Justice of Akbar, the frontage of which, measuring 600 feet, extends
the whole length of a court, surrounded by cloisters. This palace is constructed
on the same plan as the Dewan Khas at Ambir: the vaulted roof is supported by
three concentric rows of columns ; but, the intervening spaces having been walled
up by the English, it is difficult to judge of the size of the hall. It is now the
arsenal of the citadel, and the court is filled with cannon and shot. Amongst the
curiosities collected there by the English Government may be seen the throne of
Akbar and the celebrated gates of Somnath. The throne of Akbar is a long seat
of marble, inlaid with precious stones, and surmounted by a graceful marble
canopy; and the gates of Somnath are two heavy wooden doors, four yards in
height, which are finely carved. During the first centuries of our era they guarded
the entrance to the temple of Krishna at Somnath in Goojerat ; but in the tenth
century the Sultan Mahmoud, after having pillaged the town, carried off the gates
280 INDIA.

to Ghuzni, his capital. It was at Somnath that Mahmoud, the fierce iconoclast,
ordered all the idols to be destroyed. In vain did the Brahmins offer him large
bribes, entreating him to spare the statue of Krishna. He destroyed it with his
own hand, and found that the interior was filled with jewels of considerable value.
After the English had conquered Affghanistan and taken Ghuzni, Lord Ellen-
borough removed the gates of Somnath to Agra; and he made this the subject of
a pompous proclamation. After so much discussion about these gates of Somnath,
one begins now to doubt whether they really did come from the Hindoo temple.
I am of opinion that Lord Ellenborough was mistaken about them, and that they
were only the gates of Mahmoud’s tomb; for they are made of Deodara wood,
which does not grow in India Proper, and the design, which is exactly similar to
that of the sculptures of the Ebu Touloun at Cairo, does not at all resemble
Hindoo workmanship.

Behind the Arsenal extends the Imperial Palace, which is in the most perfect
state of preservation. It consists of numerous pavilions with gilded domes, con-
nected by terraces, galleries, and castellated walls, all built of the beautiful white
marble of Rajpootana: and the courts are still planted with flowers, and inter-
sected by numberless small canals. The interior of the apartments is decorated
with fine mosaics ; and the windows, which are half-closed by a curtain of marble
finely carved to represent lace, overlook the romantic valley of the Jumna. At
one end of the palace is the emperor’s bath-room, with panels of lapis-lazuli inlaid
with gold, fountains, and silver mirrors—a luxurious apartment, which recalls the
descriptions in the “ Arabian Nights.”

On a terrace in front of the Dewan Khas is an enormous slab of black marble,
where Akbar the Great used to sit to administer justice. The slab is cracked in
half, and in the centre are two red stains. According to the legend, when Agra
was taken by the Jats, Souraj-Mull seated himself on this slab, which immediately
gaped open, and blood was seen to issue from it; and upon Lord Ellenborough
making the same attempt, the stone broke quite in two. Next to the imperial
throne is the small white slab for the court buffoon, who mimicked every action
of the emperor.

Under the palace are extensive corridors, delightfully fresh and cool, where,
according to tradition, the ladies of the Court passed the hot hours of the day,
attired in a light costume. Subterranean passages diverge in all directions, the
exits of which are unknown, but it is thought that they communicated with the
country and the river.

Climbing the steepest part of the hill, one passes the ruined palace of the
Lodis, where a few beautifully sculptured pillars and lintels make one regret that
the English Government have thought it necessary to destroy it, in order to con-
struct barracks with the materials. Not far from here may be seen a beautiful
monolith, called Pyala-i-Akbar, or the Cup of Akbar. This vase, which is eight
feet in height, six feet in diameter, and six feet in depth, is finely polished, and
ornamented with a wreath of beautifully sculptured flowers.

Thence one advances to the Mooti Musjid, or Mosque of Pearls, which might
be more justly termed the Pearl of Mosques. It is a small white marble building,
standing on a rose-coloured terrace; but its lines and proportions are so sym-
metrical and’ perfect, that it may be considered the principal architectural monu-
ment of the fortress. It is situated at the extremity of a courtyard, surrounded
HISTORY OF THE TAF. 281

with arcades of marble, and paved with the same material ; and the purity of its
dazzling whiteness is not marred by the introduction of colour or mosaics, and the
effect is most striking. Three domes with gilded pinnacles crown the interior
saloon, which is divided by rows of, pillars into three aisles; and the arcades
meeting above the pillars are arched. Nothing could be simpler and, at the same
time, grander than this religious edifice; and one may well quote the words of
Bishop Heber on visiting it: “ This spotless sanctuary, showing such a pure spirit
of adoration, made me, a Christian, feel humbled when I considered that no
architect of our religion had ever been able to produce anything equal to this
temple of Allah!” It is easy to recognise in the Mooti Musjid the architecture
of the time of Shah Jehan, by whom it was built in 1656.

The advance of the grand Indo-Saracenic architecture, which was originated
by the Kontubs of Delhi and the Ahmeds of Goojerat, reached the height of its
perfection during the reign of Shah Jehan. Under this prince rose that famous
school of architects who produced the Mooti Musjid and the Taj of Agra, the
Imperial Palace and the Jummah Musjid of Delhi, which to this day remain
unrivalled.

We had not yet seen the marvel of India; but, after leaving the citadel and
skirting the banks of the river, we arrived at the Taj.

But first let me give a slight sketch of its history. The Taj was built by the
Emperor Shah Jehan, as a mausoleum for the Empress Mumtazi Mahal, or Taj-
Bibi, who died in giving birth to the princess Jehanara. This woman, celebrated
alike for her talents and her beauty, inspired the prince with such love and
admiration that he resolved to raise to her memory the most beautiful monument
that had ever been constructed by man. After a grand consultation of all the
architects of the East, the plan of Ist Mahomed (Jesus Mahomed) was adopted.
The mausoleum was commenced in the year 1630, and not completed until
1647; and during those seventeen years twenty thousand workmen were
employed. One hundred and forty thousand cartloads of pink sandstone and
of marble, from Rajpootana, were used in this great work; and each province of
the empire contributed precious stones for the adornment of it, a list.of which
may be found in a manuscript of that time. The jasper came from the Punjaub,
the cornelians from Broach, the turquoises from Thibet, the agates from Yemen,
the lapis-lazuli from Ceylon, the coral from Arabia, the garnets from Bundelcund,
the diamonds from Punnah, the mountain rock crystal from Malwa, the onyx
from Persia, the chalcedonies from Asia Minor, the sapphires from Colombo, and
. the conglomerates from Jepulmore, Gwalior, and Sipri. Notwithstanding these
contributions, and the forced labour of the workmen, the total cost of this gigantic
work was about two millions.

The Taj is situated on the banks of the Jumna, its golden crescent rising
270 feet above the level of the river. The garden in front of it is surrounded
by high embattled walls, with a pavilion at each corner. The principal entrance
is a monumental pointed arch, containing several apartments, and crowned with
a row of kiosks; the exterior is of red sandstone, relieved with bands of white
marble; and’ the tympanums of the central arch are ornamented with mosaics of
agate and onyx. A caravanserai for travellers extends around the entrance-court.

On entering this gate we suddenly found ourselves in front of the Taj, which
appeared in all its dazzling whiteness at the end of a wide paved avenue,
his INDIA.

bordered on each side with tall cypress-trees. This first view of the Taj is most
striking. Like a mountain of white marble, it rises mysteriously above the
sombre and luxuriant vegetation of the garden.

The terrace of pink sandstone on which the Taj stands is 960 feet in length
and 330 in width; and one end of it is bathed by the Jumna, while the other is:
only a few feet above the level of the garden. A magnificent platform of white
marble is erected in the centre of this terrace, measuring 15 feet in height and

 

PRINCIPAL ENTRANCE OF THE TAJ GARDENS, AT AGRA.

285 feet on every side, which forms a pedestal for the mausoleum; and at each
corner of the platform is a marble minaret, upon which rests a light cupola, about
150 feet from the ground.

The mausoleum itself is constructed like an irregular octagon, the longest
sides of which measure 120 feet; and it has a terraced roof with four pavilions
placed at the corners, and a magnificent dome in the centre. Each facade is
pierced with a high Saracenic gate, flanked on either side by two rows of niches.
Such are the proportions and the plan of the Taj, and they may be equally
THE TAG. 283

applied, though on a smaller scale, to other Indian monuments ; but every line
has been calculated with such consummate art that not a single fault can be
detected. The entire edifice, from the base to the summit, is built of white
marble, inlaid with mosaics forming inscriptions, arabesques, and other decora-
tions; but these are arranged with so much taste that, in spite of their great
number, they ornament the monument without appearing too heavy. Every part
of the exterior, with the single exception of the dome itself, is covered with these
marvellous mosaics. Here again Heber remarked with truth that “the Taj was
built by Titans, and finished by goldsmiths;” and never was casket more finely
carved by the patient hand of Chinese artist.

It is impossible not to be struck with the first view of the Taj, and here the
traveller cannot, as is so often the case, be deceived and disappointed by an
exaggerated description. Repeated visits only serve to bring some new beauty
to light ; and, as 1 myself found, you can live there a week without wéarying of
it, daily discovering new points of interest.

The interior even surpasses the exterior in magnificence ; the ceiling, walls,
and tombstones are one mass of mosaics, representing flowers, fruit, and birds.
The tombs of the Empress and of Shah Jehan are in the centre of the hall,
enclosed by a marble screen. A subdued light penetrates through the rose-
work of the windows, and the impressive silence of the place is enhanced by a
peculiarly musical echo, which can only be compared to that of the baptistry at
Pisa, which is the finest in Europe. This echo is caused by the dome, which,
being completely closed by the ceiling of the hall, forms a gigantic whispering-
vallery.

Complying with the Mussulman rule which requires a place of worship to be
attached to every mausoleum, Isé Mahomed built, at the western extremity of
the platform, a beautiful mosque of red sandstone, surmounted by three domes,
the colour and proportions of which contrast well with the Taj: but, when the
mosque was completed, Is found that the terrace had a one-sided appearance ;
and to remedy this defect he erected a building similar to the mosque at the
eastern extremity, which, however, could not be utilised on account of its
position. This he named Jawab, or Response, as it answered to the mosque.
What can we think of an architect building, as a mere accessory, an edifice
which would be the pride of Constantinople or Cairo ?

The aspirations of the architect went even further, for he contemplated the
erection, on the opposite bank of the river, of a second Taj, uniting the two with
a bridge of fairy-like beauty; and his master was on the point of embarking
in this fresh enterprise, when he was dethroned by his son Aurungzebe, and
imprisoned for the rest of his life in his palace at Agra.

The left bank of the Jumna is connected with the town by a floating bridge,
which is shortly to be replaced. by a viaduct for the railway. Quite a little
town of warehouses, factories, and cotton-printing establishments, with bazaars
and native huts, has sprung up round the railway station, which is situated on
the left bank of the river.

Not far from here is the mausoleum of Kwaji Aeias, commonly called the
Etmaddowlah. It stands in the midst of a delightful garden, which is surrounded
by walls and beautiful palaces. Its actual size is not great, being only 20 feet
in height and 50 in length; but its terraced roof is surmounted by four turrets
284 INDIA.

and a pavilion, which make the total height over 40 feet. It is a fantastic
combination of Hindoo and Mogul architecture. Although built of white marble,
there is not a square inch of it, inside or out, from the ground to the ceiling, that
is not covered with mosaics. The dimensions of the monument offer some excuse
for this profuse decoration, which is certainly carried to the extreme. The upper
kiosk, containing the tombs of Kwaji Aeias and his wife, is surrounded by a
marble screen, cut out of a single block, and carved so delicately that it resembles
the finest lace.

This mausoleum was erected in 1610, by the Emperor Jehanghir, over the
tomb of his father-in-law, Kwaji Aeias, Grand Akmat-oud-doulah, or treasurer of
the empire, of which the present name of Etmaddowlah is a corruption.

Kwaji Aeias was a native of Tartary, which he quitted to seek his fortune at
the Court of Akbar; but he was so poor that he was obliged to perform the
journey on foot. Before he reached his destination a daughter was born to him,
to whom he gave the name of Nour Mahal, or Palace of Light. His talents soon
gained him the favour of Akbar, who made him director of the finances of the
empire, and he married his daughter, who was remarkable for her beauty, to a
noble Turcoman, Sheer Shah, captain of the guards. During a visit which she
paid to the Begum, Prince Mirza Sulim, afterwards the Emperor Jehanghir, saw
her, and conceived for her a violent passion. On the death of Akbar, Sheer Shah
was assassinated, and Nour Mahal became the wife of Jehanghir, under the name
of Nour Jehan; and from that moment this ambitious woman virtually took the
reins of government into her own hands, making her father prime minister, and
coining money with her own effigy. Unfortunately, she had no children by her
second marriage; she, therefore, married her daughter by Sheer Shah to the
emperor’s youngest son, after having put out the eyes of Prince Khousrou, the
heir presumptive, whose mother she assassinated with her own hand. In spite
of all these crimes, on the death of Jehanghir, Shah Jehan mounted the throne;
when his first act was to imprison Nour Jehan, to assassinate her protégé, Shah
Riar, and to have all the allies of the empress strangled. Mumtazee Mahal, the
niece of Nour Jehan, inherited the great beauty and talents of her aunt; but
Shah Jehan wisely kept the government of his empire in his own hands.

From the Etmaddowlah the banks of the Jumna are fringed with gardens,
enclosing the palaces, or the mausoleums, of the nobles of Akbar’s Court. The
most conspicuous of these is the Rambaugh, containing large pavilions, which the
municipality of Agra has furnished for the accommodation of travellers; and
near this is a curious ruined mausoleum, called Chini-Ka-Rosah, or Tomb of
China. It is a fine building, crowned with a lofty Pathan dome, and built
of bricks, which formerly were entirely covered with enamelled designs and
arabesques. These enamels are of great beauty, particularly those on the dome,
which are of a brilliant sky-blue.

We cannot bring the list of the marvels of Agra to a close without mentioning
the Mausoleum of Akbar, two miles from the town; and the palaces of Futteh-
pore Sikri, a description of which will be found further on.:
CHAPTER XXV.

THE IMPERIAL DURBAR AT AGRA.

Importance of the Durbar.—Arrival of the Viceroy of India.—Féte of Scindia at the Taj.—Grand
Review.—Ceremony of the Investiture of the Order of the Star of India—The Durbar.—A
Ball.

HE grand Durbar of 1866 may be considered as one of the most
important events which mark the British rule in India.

Lord Canning, Lord Auckland, and Lord Ellenborough had
already presided at Durbars where a certain number of Indian
kings, either allies or vassals of the Honourable East India
Company, were assembled; but to Sir John Lawrence is due

the honour of representing for the first time at a general Durbar, not merely a
company of English merchants, but the Queen of England herself, now seated as
Empress of India on the throne of Akbar and Shah Jehan. And the ceremony
over which he was to preside was to be so magnificent that one would have to
go back to the most splendid days of the Mogul Empire to find anything to
compare with it.

The terrible crisis of 1857 was succeeded by nine years of peace and prosperity,
during which time the English rule, if not extended, was at least strengthened;
and now twenty-six sovereign princes, and a great number of powerful feudatories,
in response to the invitation of the Viceroy, were coming, according to the ancient
Hindoo custom, to make obeisance to the British representative.

No town in India offered so many advantages as Agra for celebrating a
Durbar. Its situation is central as regards the principal States of India, being
within easy distance of Rajpootana, the countries of the Jats, Sikhs, and
Mahrattas, and Bundelcund and Oude, and by rail only three days’ journey
from Calcutta, and a few hours from Delhi and the Punjaub. No other town:
could vie with its wonderful situation; its vast plains so well adapted to the
display of the ostentatious pomp of hundreds of rajahs, the grand monuments
which form such a glorious page in Hindoo history. What a background to the
striking scenes of the grand Durbar!

On the 11th of November Sir John Lawrence entered Agra in state, surrounded
by a brilliant staff, and was greeted with a salute from the citadel of Akbar. He
was dressed with extreme simplicity in plain clothes.

The arrival of the Viceroy was the signal for the ceremonies of the Durbar
to commence, which are of sufficient interest to warrant a somewhat detailed
description. On the 13th, an hour after sunrise, in accordance with the Eastern

 
See INDIA.

custom, a deputation from the Viceroy waited upon the Maharajahs of Gwalior,
Jeypore, and Joudpore, and the Begum of Bhopal, the only princes who have
a right to this honour. At-ten o’clock we went, with the other Europeans
present, to a grand levée at the Viceroy’s, At one o'clock the visits from the
Indian princes to Sir John Lawrence commenced, and occupied the rest of that
day and the next. These visits were then returned by the Viceroy, and thus for
several days Agra was filled with the brilliant retinues of the grandees.

The ceremonies of the Durbar at Agra had attracted a great number of
inquisitive Europeans and natives from all parts of India, who installed them-
selves as best they could in tents, which formed a huge camp outside the town.
Although the climate in the North-west Provinces at this time of the year is
usually temperate, the heat in the middle of the day is quite sufficient to cause
dangerous epidemics among such crowds of human beings. From the first days
of the Durbar the cholera raged unrestrained, and it was only through the
strenuous exertions of the English police that it was at length in some degree
checked; yet the people seemed to live without any apprehension of danger,
and no one appeared to notice the presence of their terrible visitor; and it was
only by visiting the cemetery of Agra that I became aware of the number of his
victims.

But the Maharajah Scindia gave the word for the festivities to commence,
and gaiety and amusements were the order of the day. Scindia, who is one
of the most powerful princes in Hindostan, had conceived the idea of giving
an entertainment at the Taj, which the municipality of Agra had placed at his
disposal; and invitations were issued to the rajahs and the élite among the
Europeans, among whom the Resident of Gwalior had the kindness to include
us.

On the night of the 15th, I took the road to the Taj, asking myself whether
it was not almost sacrilege to convert this tomb, which is one of the grandest
monuments of India, into a place of amusement. But it appears that the
Mussulmans of India do not hold places of sepulture in the same veneration
as we do; for in all ages the emperors have built their tombs during their
own lifetime, surrounding them with attractive gardens, to which they personally
resorted for amusement. We alighted from our carriage in the first court, before
the monumental gateway leading to the garden; where the grenadiers of Scindia
formed two lines between which we walked, passing under the immense pointed
archway, from which hung a thousand lamps. From the high flight of steps
the garden appeared like a gigantic fairy-scene; the fountains throwing up
showers of glittering spray, the trees covered with fruit and flowers, and the
air filled with enchanting music from the orchestras. The long avenues, paved
with marble, presented a dazzling appearance. There were maharajahs and
rajahs sparkling with diamonds; governors, diplomatists, and officers covered
with embroidery; Indian ministers and Rajpoot chiefs; and the great ladies
of the Court of Calcutta,— presenting a spectacle of which no European
ceremony can give an idea, But I was struck not so much by the richness
of the costumes, as by their great diversity and elegance, so many countries
and races being here represented by the flower of their nobility. Europeans
might think an entertainment given to the princes and grandees at Agra by
one of their fellow-countrymen quite an ordinary and simple occurrence ; but
FETE AT THE TAY. 287

it was by no means so easy as one would imagine. To bring together people
who never before in their lives have appeared in public without being surrounded
with pomp and grandeur,—these princes, who are so proud and jealous of one
another,—and to make them walk gbout in a garden, chatting with each other,
and jostled by the crowd like ordinary mortals, might have been reckoned an
impossibility ; but this was not the case, for the plan succeeded admirably.
The powerful Ram Sing of Jeypore was there, appearing somewhat confused at
having to give place to the ladies, and not a little astonished at the uncere-
monious elbowing of the people near him; but he took it all in good part;
and farther on Sheodan Sing was gazing with admiration at the English beauties.

Suddenly at about ten o’clock there appeared, at the farther end of the great
avenue, a snow-white mass of colossal proportions, suspended in the air. It was
the Taj, which, till now hidden by the darkness, had just been lit up with electric
lights. The effect was magical. After this the illumination became general; and
the choubdars, making their way among the groups of people, invited every one to
repair to the banqueting hall, the Jawab of the Taj, an immense apartment
decorated with mosaics, where a Homeric repast was prepared, uniting the
delicacies of Europe and Asia.

The Europeans were soon seated at the table; the corks flew in all directions,
and mirth and merriment had free course; while the Indians remained standing,
spectators of the feast without taking part in it. To say how much champagne
was drunk that night would be difficult; but more than one British warrior
succumbed to the potent influence of the French wine. The cost of this entertain-
ment to Scindia amounted, it was said, to 20,000 rupees !

After the supper there was a display of fireworks on the banks of the Jumna.
This river bathes the base of the Taj, describing a graceful curve round that
monument; and numerous rockets of every description, but all very ordinary,
were reflected for an instant in the sheet of water. Scarcely was all again
enveloped in darkness when a line of fire was seen floating down the Jumna,
lighting up the whole river: This effect was produced by innumerable little lamps,
thrown from the bridge of Toundlah into the river, and thus covering it with a
sheet of fire; which were carried along by the current, and which we watched for
some time from the terrace, as they gradually receded with the river into the
obscurity of night. At midnight we were entertained with a brilliant concert from
the English orchestras, and then the crowd gradually dispersed.

On the 16th November the Viceroy, accompanied by all the rajahs, reviewed
the English army, twenty thousand strong, under the command of General Mans-
field, on the grand esplanade of Agra. After the march past, the troops took up
their position and went through a series of evolutions, which they executed to
perfection. The Indian princes must have been much struck with this part of
the spectacle, and particularly with the rapidity with which the breech-loading
field-pieces were fired off. :

On the 17th Sir John Lawrence presided over a grand assembly of the Order
of the Star of India, at which several sovereigns and feudatories were invested
with the insignia of the Order. The ceremony took place in the Shamiana, or tent
of the Durbars, which is in the centre of the Imperial camp, and all the great
people were present at it. It was, so to speak, a rehearsal of the Durbar, which
was to take place in the same apartment. The Shamiana is a spacious pavilion,
288 INDIA,

capable of containing from two to three thousand people; and its khanats form a
curved arch, supported by light pillars.

At one end of the apartment was the golden throne of the Viceroy, which is
supported by heraldic lions, and placed on a raised platform covered with cloth of
gold; and on each side of the throne was a row of sofas—those on the eft for
the lesser, and those on the right hand for the higher ranks.

The Viceroy wore the rich collar, the star, ribbon, and lilac satin robes of the
Star of India. The ceremony of investiture was very simple. The new candidate
for knighthood stood before the dais of the Queen’s representative; the Queen’s
letter was read aloud; the Viceroy then embraced him, and, fastening the ribbon
and collar round his neck, proclaimed him a knight. After this the Viceroy
made a short speech, pointing out the prince’s title to the great honour which is
conferred upon him. Some of these speeches referred to services rendered during
the Mutiny, and afforded an opportunity for an allusion to those princes whose
loyalty had not been conspicuous. Thus, in addressing the Rajah Muddan Pal
of Kerowley, Sir John said, “The Empress of India, in conferring on you the title
of Grand Commander of the Order of the Star of India, wishes to thank you for
your fidelity, and for the signal services which you rendered to the English
cause during the Mutiny of 1857. At the time when some powerful chiefs held
back, and cautiously awaited the issue of events, you did not shrink from placing
yourself at the head of your Rajpoots, and fighting with us for the safety of the
empire.”

At length the 2oth of November arrived, the day appointed for the Imperial
Durbar. From earliest dawn Agra was a scene of tumult and excitement, every-
body wished to see the Durbar; but there was such a number of Indian princes
and nobles and English functionaries invited to be present at the assembly that
there were not more than fifty vacant seats in the Shamiana, and these were
scarcely sufficient to accommodate the newspaper correspondents and other favoured
visitors. As a French traveller I was placed in this last category, and my large
acquaintance procured me a seat at the Durbar.

At noon the grand esplanade in front of the camp presented a magnificent
coup-detl. Each rajah, surrounded by his Court and displaying all his riches,
took up the position assigned to him, from which he was to proceed in state to the
Durbar. Hundreds of elephants of gigantic size, rivalling each other in the
magnificence of their trappings, some with houdahs of gold or silver, others
bearing the standards and royal insignia; thousands of horsemen— Rajpoots,
Mahrattas, Sikhs, and Boundelas; soldiers in every imaginable uniform; thousands
of eager spectators from every province of India,—such was the crowd which
thronged the Maidan of Agra; and, in the midst of all this confusion, the
English mounted policemen endeavoured to keep some sort of order and arrange
the processions.

I threaded my way with great difficulty through.the vast multitude, and
reached the grand avenue, lined with troops, leading to the Shamiana. The tent
was already crowded with diplomatic agents and English officers, amongst whom
I found several acquaintances.

At about two o’clock the procession commenced. According to the rules of
etiquette, the highest in rank came last. From the steps of the Shamiana I
watched this procession, which was the most striking part of the ceremony, Each
THE PRINCES AT THE DURBAR. 289

Sowari, in turn, advanced up the great avenue; the English troops presented
arms ; the batteries fired a salute; the royal elephant knelt down at the entrance
of the Shamiana; and an English official, taking the rajah by the hand, conducted
him to his seat. The procession cogtinued without interruption, increasing in
magnificence from the Boundela chief of Alipoura to the high and mighty lord of
Gwalior. At length all were seated: the Indian princes on the left of the dais,
with their nobles and ministers behind them; and to the right the English
governors, generals, and officers, whose rich uniforms appeared quite simple beside
the Oriental magnificence of the rajahs. There was a pause; after which the
choubdars, clad in red and.armed with long golden canes, announced the Viceroy,
when the assembly rose, and Sir John Lawrence, in full uniform, with head
uncovered, slowly crossed the pavilion and ascended the steps to the dais, amidst
the firing of cannon and the strains of the National Anthem.

At a given signal every one sat down, and the Secretary of State proclaimed
the opening of the Durbar. The tedious ceremony of the nuzzur then commenced.
Each rajah, escorted by his dewan and the chief thakour of his kingdom, advanced
towards the dais, and making a slight obeisance to the Viceroy, presented to him
a piece of gold, which the latter returned to him. This piece of gold represents
a considerable sum of money, varying according to the rank of the rajah. It is
presented to the Empress of India, represented by the Viceroy, and, subsequently,
presents of equal value are given to the chieftains in acknowledgment of the
compliment.

But during this ceremony, which does not last less than an hour, let us take a
rapid glance at the princes present. The first on the right of the throne was Scindia,
the Maharajah of Gwalior. He represented at the Durbar those terrible Mahrattas
who, for a whole century, filled India with fire and blood, overthrew the Mogul
- Empire, and, by their lawless atrocities, paved the way for the British conquest.
Scindia was dressed with a certain degree of simplicity in robes of brocade, with a
few diamonds round his throat, and a turban with raised wings. On the immedi-
ate left, of the Viceroy, and the only rajah on that side, was our friend Ram Sing,
Maharajah of Jeypore, wearing the robes of the Order of the Star of India and a
turban covered with precious stones. He and the Maharajah of Joudpore, who
was seated next to Scindia, are the representatives of the Solar race, of the god
Rama; and they rank next to the Rana of Oudeypoor. Then came the Begum
of Bhopal, the most important Mohammedan sovereign of Rajesthan. She is
about fifty years of age, of an energetic and almost masculine type. She was
dressed in a manly costume, with tight pantaloons of cloth of gold, and a satin
tunic decorated with several orders. Among the nobles of her suite were the
dowager-queen Goadsia Begum. Then came the Maha Rao Rajah of Kotah and
the Rajah of Kishengurh, both of them Rajpoots, wearing the ancient kangra, or
short-plaited muslin petticoat. The Maharajah of Kerowley, the young Jat Rajah
of Bhurtpore, and the Maha Rao of Ulwur, formed a group resplendent with
jewels; Sheodan wearing a long tunic of black velvet, blazing with strings of
diamonds. Beside him was the Nawab of Tonk, dressed in a long coat of silk,
without the slightest ornament; and farther on was the Rajah of Dholepore, a
handsome old man with long whiskers dyed red, who came to the Durbar encased
in armour, as though prepared for battle. To these succeeded a long procession

of Boundelas and Rajpoot princes, all in rich and picturesque costumes: the
T
299 INDIA.

Maharajah of Ourtcha, the Rao Maharajah of Duttiah, the Rajah of Sumpter
the Rajah of Chircari, the Rajah of Bijawur, the Raj Rao of Adjeygurh, the
Maharajah of Chutterpore, the Rajah of Surila, the Jagheerdar of Alipoura, and the
Rais of Myhere. Next to these, who are all important princes, came six Mirzas,
members of the ex-imperial family of Delhi; and these descendants of Akbar,
richly dressed and wearing the dress of the princes of the blood, saluted the
English Viceroy, from whom they receive pensions. Last came zemindars,
rajahs, and jagheerdars, some of whom possess very large estates.

After the ceremony of the nuzzur came that of the khillut, which naturally
follows it; the nuzzur being, in fact, the gift offered to the superior; and the
khillut, the presentation by the suzerain of a title or a present to the vassal.
Eighty-three khilluts were thus distributed, in the same rotation as that observed
at the nuzzur. They consisted of elephants and horses, which were delivered to
the various recipients after the Durbar, and jewels, precious stuffs, and other
articles of value, which were displayed in the pavilion, and presented to each
rajah as he came up. This ceremony lasted even longer than the first, and was
somewhat fatiguing.

After this distribution the Viceroy rose, and delivered an eloquent discourse
in Hindostanee, in which he exhorted the Indian princes to govern their States
with wisdom, to make use of the benefits of European civilisation, and to render
themselves worthy of the friendship of the Empress of India. The Secretary
of State then announced the conclusion of the Durbar; and the procession left
the Shamiana in the same order in which it came.

Such was the solemn ceremony which, while it will always form an era in
the history of India, was one of the most striking spectacles ever witnessed in
this prosaic age.

The political portion of this grand festival at Agra terminated with the
Durbar, but festivities were carried on until the end of the month. The Rao
of Ulwur and the Prince of Vizianagram gave brilliant entertainments; and,
to wind up the proceedings, Ram Sing gave a grand ball, whereat a Hindoo
prince, the descendant of Rama, was seen figuring in a quadrille with an English
lady on his arm!
CHAPTER XXVI.
THE KINGDOM OF BHURTPORE.

Travelling Waggon.—Bhurtpore.—The Jats—The Two Sieges,—Captain Fantéme,—Ruins of the
Fortress.

HE Durbar had taken me out of the way; and the news which
I had received from the English residents and from the inhabit-
ants of the surrounding country, who had come from all parts
to be present at this solemnity, caused me to completely alter
my route. After leaving Jeypore, I had intended to visit Delhi
and Lahore and Cashmere. Now I fancied, however, that the
huge triangle comprised between the Ganges on the north, the Chambul on the
west, and the Vindhyas on the south, commonly called Central India, offered a
wide field for study, abounding in monuments of the greatest antiquity. Of this
district, with the exception of a few reports from the English Residents published
by scientific societies, very little is known. I accordingly traced out on my map
a route, which, after leading me through Bundelcund to Bhopal, would bring me
back to Agra, through Malwa and Haraouti.

At Agra I found myself again thrown on my own resources in an English
cantonment. There were no more rajahs to lend me camels or carriages, and
travellers were so rare that it was with the greatest difficulty that I secured the
means of continuing my journey as I had intended. At length, however, I found
a Mussulman who possessed a vehicle capable of taking us and our baggage to
Bhurtpore; but we were to take it no farther. This vehicle was a shuter-chopaya
—a kind of large covered waggon, placed, without any springs, on four low wheels,

-and drawn by four lean camels harnessed & Ja Daumont. The appearance of this
turn-out was by no means reassuring, though rather picturesque.

Here another trouble awaited me. The servants whom I had brought from
Baroda declined to go any farther. I accordingly had to dismiss them dnd get
new ones; by no means an easy matter, especially on the point of leaving. All
this took time, and we did not quit Agra till the evening of the 15th December.
Our departure, however, took place without further trouble, and the carriage
started gaily, swung along by the camels at a trot; but, like all roads in
India, the one we were following came to an end on a large plain of sand, in
which the wheels of our conveyance sank up to the axles. Our pace slackened ;
awful lurches threatened every moment to dislocate the chopaya, and soon the
camels were reduced to a walk. In spite of every effort, we were obliged to
resign ourselves to this inconvenience, and followed the funereal caravan on our

 
292 INDIA.

horses. It took us the whole night to traverse the distance that separated us
from Bhurtpore, and it was not till daybreak that we siyhted the Jat citadel
rising out of the plain in front of us. At eight o’clock we reached the gates of
the town, and being conducted to a small palace, near the royal habitation, where
apartments had been prepared for us, we took possession of our rooms, thoroughly
knocked up and anathematising the shuter-chopaya and its inventor.

Bhurtpore is the capital of the Jat state of the same name, which lies between
the kingdoms of Jeypore, Ulwur, Dholepore, and the province of Agra. The
population is estimated at 101,000.

The Jats appear to have occupied the first rank, in point of numerical force
and importance, in Western India and Transoxiana since the time of Tomyris and
Cyrus. In the fourth century history mentions a Yuti or Jat kingdom in the
Punjaub, but without indicating the time of its foundation.

The exact period of their first appearance in India is not known. The Raj-
poots, at any rate, found them firmly established, but still preserving the
characteristic habits of the Scythian tribes. They were a nation of shepherds,
almost nomads; and without any form of government but a council of the elders
in each tribe. Their only divinity was Amba Bhawain, the Hindoo Sibyl,
represented by a young Jat woman; but they rejected the Brahmin theocracy.
According to their traditions, they came from the country beyond the Oxus. Tod
thinks that the Asidghs, one of their chief tribes, are no other than the Asi of
the Oxus and the Jaxartes, who overthrew the Greek empire in Bactriana; and
the same authority holds it not improbable that the Jats are the parent tribe
from which sprang those Jits or Jutes who invaded the north of Europe, and
settled, amongst other places, in Jutland.

The victorious Rajpoots were obliged to respect the privileges of the Jats,
who relinquished, indeed, the first rank to them, but kept possession of the land;
and in some states, as at Bikanir, the Rajpoot princes have themselves crowned by
the Jat senate on succeeding to the throne.

The Jats opposed the Mussulman invasion with an obstinate resistance. In
1026 they stopped Mahmoud on the banks of the Indus; in 1205 the Emperor
Koutub had to dispute with them the possession of the country of Hansi; in
1397 their legions were destroyed while opposing the march of Tamerlane; and,
lastly, the Emperor Baber, in his Commentaries, pays a tribute to their courage.
Luckier than the Rajpoots, they managed, in conjunction with the Mahrattas, their
cousins of Southern India, to overthrow the Mussulman power. They gained pos-
session of Agra and Delhi, and would probably have become a powerful and impor-
tant tribe had it not been for the English conquest which checked the movement.

At the commencement of our century the Jats of the Punjaub, known, since
their conversion to the precepts of Namuck, under the name of Sikhs, succeeded
in founding a very powerful kingdom, under Runjeet Sing; and Napoleon, seeing
their power increasing, conceived the idea of overthrowing, with the help of the
Sikh Jats, the English dominion in India. For this purpose he sent French
officers to them, such as Allard, Ventura, Avitabile, and others, who made the
Sikh army the finest native force in India. This great Scythian race, which, under
the various names of Yuti, Gétes, Jits, Jats, or Sikhs, has shown so much power
and vitality, still furnishes the very best native soldiers to the empire.

The Jat type belongs to the Indo-European family. Their physiognomy is
OBSTINATE DEFENCE OF BHURTPORE. 293

bright and intelligent, the forehead high, the nose aquiline, and the hair and
beard abundant. They are generally tall and well made, intrepid and courageous ;
and their appearance and carriage are prepossessing. The purest model of the
Jat tribe is a Sikh warrior, one of the handsomest types of the human race. The
women are often very pretty, and always taller than those of other Indian tribes ;
and they never go out veiled.

Bhurtpore is especially famous for the two sieges it sustained from the English.
In 1804 Runjeet Sing, Rajah of Bhurtpore, had become one of the most powerful
princes in India. An ally of the English for a short time, he soon, however,
joined Holkar; but, being defeated at Laswari and at Digh, he was obliged to
retire into his capital; whereupon General Lake immediately marched upon
Bhurtpore and invested it. ‘The trenches were opened on the 4th of January
1805; and, the breach being considered practicable on the evening of the gth,*
Lake ordered the attack to be made at night; but, in spite of its vigour, it was
repulsed with a loss of 456 men to the English. A second and still more
disastrous attempt was made, the breach having been effected at a more favourable
point ; but the flooded moat was impassable. The English had to swim across to
the ramparts, but they were compelled to retreat, leaving 600 men in the breach,
of whom twenty were officers. Three other successive assaults cost the English
1200 men, or more. The besieged defended themselves with a courage and
obstinacy equal to that of their enemies; in no other siege, indeed, had the native
tribes offered so stout a resistance. The English army became enfeebled, and its
material useless ; so Lake had to content himself with blockading the town. The
Rajah of Bhurtpore, knowing that his means of holding out must come to an end,
took advantage of this state of things to demand and obtain favourable conditions ;
and the siege was raised after a duration of three months and twenty days, the
English having in that time lost 2334 men and a great many officers.

In 1825 the J&ét Dourjun Sal overthrew the grandson of Runjeet Sing, and.
ga‘ned possession of the throne of Bhurtpore. The English besieged the town for
the second time, though now in aid of the legitimate rajah. Lord Combermere
opened fire on the town on the 14th of December, which was vigorously responded.
to by the besieged; and by the 18th of January 1826, two breaches were
thought practicable, when an attack from two sides at the same time was resolved
upon. In spite of the explosion of a mine, which threw the English ranks into
confusion, and in spite of the heroic defence of the old Jat grenadiers whose
bodies filled the breach, the town was taken. This victory was of some importance
to the English. In the time of Lake they had been once defeated before the
walls of Bhurtpore, and they might possibly have been again defeated, had not the
want of ammunition forced the citadel to surrender. The walls of Bhurtpore were
made to expiate the pride of their early triumphs. The inhabitants witnessed
the demolition of the fortifications they had named the Fortress of Victory, which
they boasted that they had built with the corpses of General Lake's soldiers.
After the capture of the town Lord Combermere reinstated Bulwant Sing on the
throne, and placed him under the protection of England. eee

The present rajah is only sixteen years old. During his minority his states
are governed by a regency council, presided over by the English Agent, whose.
power is only controlled by the Imperial Government.

* Malcolm’s “ Central India.”
204 INDIA.

Bhurtpore occupies the site of an ancient city, founded by the hero Bharat, of
which not a vestige now remains. The present town dates only from the time of
Souraj Mull, or the middle of the eighteenth century. Its ramparts, which were
built in a modern style and of formidable strength, consist now of a long line of
ruins. The only point of interest is the citadel, which stands in the southern
quarter of the town, and is within the line of fortifications; but its walls,
thoroughly dismantled by the English, give a very poor idea of its ancient

 

THE PALACE OF DOURJUN sAL, BHURTPORE.

splendour. The bastion of Jowar Sing, who was one of the four defenders of the
fort, may still be seen in a fair state of preservation, It is a round hillock filled
up and strengthened by a thick stone wall, on the summit of which is built a fine
pavilion of sandstone, covered with remarkable sculptures, from which an extensive
view of the town and its suburbs is to be had. Near the bastion is the gate of
Juggernath, which the English took by storm after a severe struggle. The
interior of the citadel offers a melancholy spectacle, presenting nothing but the
ruins of palaces, already more than half overrun by vegetation. The only thing
FRENCH DESCENDANTS. 295

that remains intact is a handsome pavilion, built of red sandstone, and surmounted
by a cupola; which is wrongly attributed to the usurper Dourjun Sal, whereas, in
reality, it is the most ancient pizce of architecture in the whole citadel.

Close beside these ruins stands @long line of buildings, a curious mixture of
every style of architecture, Saracen, Hindoo, Jit, and other. This is the modern
palace of the rajahs. It contains several handsome marble courts, an audience-
chamber, a temple, and one of those European museums which the rajahs of our
time affect so much.

On the north of the town is situated the Moti Jhil, or Lake of the Pearl,
which has played an important part in the defence of the town. It is an artificial
lake, several miles in circumference, and, being on a higher level than the town,
the approaches to the ramparts can be flooded at any moment to a considerable
extent. At present they do not allow the water to accumulate in the lake, except
during the rains. In October the dams are opened, when the bed runs dry and is
cultivated. Bhurtpore only offers a purely historical interest ; and, in the absence
of the Court, which at that time was at Dich, we found it rather dull: but an
unlucky accident compelled me to remain there for some days. On the fatal
night of the 1st, I lost my hat, one of those felt helmets without which a
European cannot endure the rays of the sun; and as this Jat town did not then
possess a hatter, I had to await the return of a messenger whom I had despatched
to Agra to repair my loss.

An unexpected meeting, however, helped us to pass the time at Bhurtpore.
On returning from an excursion through the town, I received a card bearing the
inscription “ Monsieur Fantéme:” the prefix Monsieur bespoke him a Frenchman.
I immediately went to the address given, and there found a good-looking half-
caste, who introduced himself to me as a descendant of the famous French
adventurer Captain Fantéme, who rendered himself famous in the service of the
Scindias during the wars at the end of the last century. The descendants of this
man are now inhabitants of Bhurtpore, where they are employed about the
Court; and they are very proud of the title of “ Frenchmen,” although they are
ignorant of the language. We spent Christmas night with these kind folks, and
did not fail to drink to the prosperity of France, while the old father, a very
worthy man, told us of the exploits of his ancestor—how at the head of his
Mahratta troops he had on several occasions defeated the Mogul army, and how,
when besieged in a village later on he had heroically defended himeelf against the
English. The country we were about to traverse, as far as Gwalior, still re-
members the exploits of these French adventurers, Perron, De Boigne, Jean
Baptiste, and others.

An order from the Agent procured us the necessary camels; and just before
our departure the young rajah arrived, whom I thanked for the hospitality he had
so graciously offered us, both here and at Digh; but I resisted his invitation to
prolong our visit. The rajah speaks English fluently, and has Teceived a good
education; but he is very timid, and is evidently afraid of committing himself in
the absence of the Political Agent. He is a prince of the modern school, and
assuredly will never give any trouble to his suzerain.
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE RUINS OF FUTTEHPORE.

Futtehpore-SikriitThe Ruins.—The Tomb of Selim.—The Emperor Akbar and the Saint.
—The Palace of the Padishah.—The Game of Pucheesee.—The Dewani-Khas.—The Old
Guide of Futtehpore.

HE ruins of Futtehpore, the Versailles of the great Akbar,
cover the summit of a hill twelve miles from Bhurtpore. On
leaving that town, we travelled across a succession of mono-
tonous plains alternately composed of marshes and rocky
deserts. The horizon was unbounded, except on the east,
where lay the hill of Futtehpore, the fantastic outline of

which caught the rays of the rising sun. Even from afar the eye is struck by
the number and size of the buildings, which a royal caprice has erected in the
midst of this desert: one would take it for a large and populous city. Those
long lines of palaces with their gilded domes and pinnacles could never have
been built to be so soon abandoned to solitude. The scene becomes grander the
nearer you approach. On arriving at the foot of the hill, the road passes under
a majestic gateway, beyond which are the long, silent streets; the palaces still
standing perfect and entire amidst the ruined dwellings of the people; with the
fountains and the magnificent gardens, wherein the pomegranate and the jessa-
mine have grown for centuries. The whole scene is of imposing grandeur; and
the hand of time has fallen so lightly upon it that one might take it for a town
very recently deserted by its inhabitants, or one of the enchanted cities of Sinbad
the Sailor.

The bigarri,* whom we had taken with us from the village of Sikri, con-
ducted us to a bungalow which is maintained by the English Government for the
accommodation of travellers. This bungalow, which was once the ancient
kutcheryf of Akbar, is built of red sandstone, and surrounded by a beautiful
verandah supported by columns. It is situated on the northern extremity of the
plateau, and overlooks the town on one side and the front of the zenana on the
other. An old sepoy is placed in charge of the edifice, which contains two com-
fortably furnished apartments.

The foundations of Futtehpore, “the Town of Victory,” were laid by Akbar in
1571, and the ramparts, city, and palace were all completed with extraordinary
rapidity. Akbar was attracted to this desert by the sanctity of a Mussulman

 

* Bigarri, a guide for travellers, furnished by the villages.
1 Kutchery, court of the magistrate attached to the palace.
TOMB OF SELIM SHISTI. 297

anchorite, Selim Shisti, who inhabited one of the caverns on the hill. Attracted
by the situation, he built himself a palace, and finally, being unwilling to give up
the society of the holy man, he resolved to establish there the capital of his
empire. In a few years this desqt spot was transformed into a large and
populous city; but the death of Selim soon put an end to this prosperity.
Akbar then saw the folly of trying to place his capital in the midst of these
sterile plains, unapproached by any of the great rivers, more especially as he
possessed the unusually favourable situation of Agra. His resolution was promptly
taken. In 1584 he abandoned Futtehpore with all its grandeur, and carried off
the whole population to people his new capital of Agra. The evacuation was com-
plete ; none of the successors of Akbar cared to carry out his foolish project, and
very soon the only inhabitants of Futtehpore were wild animals and a few
anchorites. One is almost tempted to think that Akbar built Futtehpore for the
sole purpose of giving posterity some idea of his greatness in leaving this monu-
ment of his capricious fancy.

The fame of Selim still attracts thousands of pilgrims to his tomb, where they
assemble at certain seasons of the year; and, to supply the wants of these devotees,
two villages have sprung up on the site of the deserted town, one called Futtehpore,
and the other Sikri; and it is by this double appellation of Futtehpore-Sikri that
the ruins are generally known. Apart from their beauty, which all must admire,
they are of special interest to the archeologist as being the work of a single
individual, and therefore a perfect specimen of the style of architecture of his
epoch. From their marvellous state of preservation you can trace, step by step,
the mode of life of the great Akbar, and can form a just idea of Indian manners
and customs in the sixteenth century. Everything still breathes of the magni-
ficence of that Eastern Court the fame of which was carried to Europe by contem-
porary travellers, whose tales were looked upon as fables, and the wealth and
splendour of which excited later the avarice and cupidity of the Western nations.

The tomb of Selim, the imperial palace, and some of the dwellings of the
Mogul grandees are almost entire. They form a compact group, one mile in
length, which occupies the summit of a hill 180 feet high, This hill furnished
the whole of the material of which they are built, which is a fine sandstone,
varying from purple to rose-colour. The stone has been left unornamented
throughout; but the architects have avoided the monotony of the colour by artisti-
cally arranging its various tints. The mass is now softened by time; and one of
its chief beauties is this mellow colouring, which blends ground and building
in one, making the latter appear as though carved out of the peaks of the
mountain.

The ruins are the property of the British Government, and some effective
works have been carried out for checking the ravages caused by the monsoons.

The tomb of Selim, the patron of the mountain, stands on the highest part of
the plateau, and is surrounded by high red walls which give it the appearance of
a fortress. The. best view of this monument is obtained by approaching it from
the south. On leaving the little village of Futtehpore, you see the grand entrance
to the tomb on a height above you, with a flight of 150 steps leading to it. The
gate is placed in the centre of the outside wall, and a Saracenic arch, 72 feet in
height, forms the gateway. On crossing the threshold you enter a paved court,
nearly 500 feet square, surrounded by cloisters of great height; and on the left
298 INDIA.
rises a majestic mosque, with the marble mausoleum of the saint, surrounded by
the tombs of his descendants. One cannot but feel deeply impressed on entering
this silent and deserted court : the long, sombre galleries, surmounted by a thousand
cupolas; the gigantic gateway resembling a propylone of Karnak; and the noble
mosque, which forms a dark red framework to the mausoleum of the saint, the
dazzling whiteness of which is heightened by the foliage of the trees overhanging
it. In the whole effect there is a mixture of severe grandeur and soft harmony
which has always characterised Indian Islamism.

The mausoleum of Selim is entered by a peristyle supported by two columns,
It is ornamented with very few mosaics, and differs in this respect from the
monuments of this class which I have already described; but what gives it a
remarkably original appearance is the fact that the walls are nothing but a curtain
of marble carved in open fretwork, so that the roof only is sustained by pillars.
Each panel is formed of a very thin slab of marble; and wide, sloping cornices,
upheld by brackets, intercept the rays of the sun. The interior apartment is small
and dimly lighted, and in the centre stands the sarcophagus of the saint, which is
made of mother-of-pearl and turquoise, and covered with rich stuffs, lamps and
ostrich eggs from Mecca being suspended from the ceiling. ‘The tomb is still
entrusted to the charge of the descendants of Shisti, and the English Government
allow them to receive the endowment.

In the sixteenth century Sheik Selim Shisti established himself in one of the
caverns of the hill of Futtehpore; and he soon acquired a wide-spread celebrity
from the mysterious influence which he exercised over the wild beasts who shared
his solitude. Akbar, on visiting him, was so impressed by his profound reasoning
that he made him the most brilliant offers by way of attracting him to his Court;
but they were refused. He therefore determined to take up his abode near the
holy man, who rapidly gained considerable influence over him. A popular legend
relates that it was owing to Shisti that an heir was born to Akbar. The emperor,
in the course of conversation one day with the saint in his cell, complained bitterly
of having no son, and asked whether he might ever hope to have one. “No,”
answered Shisti; “it is not written.” The son of the anchorite, aged six months,
who was sleeping in his cradle, suddenly sat.up, and said to his father—although
he had never spoken before—“ Oh, father! why do you thus take away all hope
from the Supporter of the Universe?” The sheik, astounded at this miracle,
replied, “Oh! my son, it is written that the emperor will never have a son unless
some other man will sacrifice for him the life of his own heir; and surely no one
is capable of such an act.” “If you will allow me,” cried the child, “I will die,
in order that his majesty may be consoled.” And, before Shisti could interfere,
he expired. That very day a child was conceived, and in due time born; and
Akbar, out of gratitude, called him Selim. He became afterwards the Emperor
Jehanghir.

The mosque, which is very beautiful, is a long building surmounted by three
domes; and an elevated pediment, ornamented with mosaics, marks the Chapel of
Friday, the Mussulman Sabbath, on each side of which are three lower chapels
consecrated to the different days of the week. In front of the mosque is a fine
marble basin, where the faithful perform their ablutions. The north side of the
court is covered with numerous tombs.

The imperial palace lies to the east of the tomb. It is a vast collection of
PALACE OF AKBAR. 209

separate buildings connected by galleries and courtyards, and covering an area at
least equal to that occupied by the Louvre and the Tuileries.

The first building you come to on leaving the tomb used to contain the
private apartments of the emperor. dt now goes by the name of tapili, or guard-
house, from the fact of its being inhabited by the handful of soldiers who are
employed to keep off marauders from the ruins. This palace is built with great
simplicity, its exterior being nothing but a blank walk, with a small court in its
centre, into which the galleries on the different storeys open. On one side is a
colonnade, profusely ornamented in the Hindoo style; this was the verandah of
the apartment of Akbar’s favourite wife, and the mother of Jehanghir: and at
the end of an open space which extends in front of the palace is the kutchery,
now converted into a bungalow for travellers.

 

 

THE MOSQUE OF THE MAUSOLEUM.

A ruined gallery leads from the tapili to the Imperial zenana, which is
surrounded by a high wall. Each princess was allotted a separate palace in this
enclosure, with its own gardens, &c., constructed according to her own taste and
wishes. The first of these was the palace of the Queen Mary, a Portuguese lady
whom Akbar had espoused ; in the apartments of which are numerous frescoes,
amongst others one representing the Annunciation of the Virgin Mary. It isa
matter of surprise to find a Mussulman prince, in the sixteenth century, with
such tolerant views as to allow in his palace a thing so opposed to the principles
of his religion; but it does not astonish one in such an enlightened man as the
great Abkar. Wishing to put an end for ever to the subjects of discord which
divided the nations of his empire, he devised the plan of creating a new religion
which should unite the sympathies of all. For this purpose he assembled a
os INDIA,

a

general council, which was attended by the priests of all the religious denomina-
tions of India, and even by some of the Christian missionaries from Goa; and to
them he submitted his project: but nothing resulted from the discussion. In
spite of this the emperor compiled a voluminous work on the different religions

THE SULTAN’S PAVILION, FUTTEHPORE-SIKRI.

 

of the world, viz., Christianity, Judaism, Islamism, and the various Hindoo sects,
in which he displayed very liberal and enlightened views.
From the palace of the Queen Mary you enter a court, surrounded by apart-
THE PANCH MAHAL. 301

ments, and almost entirely occupied by a basin of vast dimensions, in the centre
of which is an island built on a terrace, and reached by four stone foot-bridges.
At the extremity of this court there is a pavilion, the walls and pillars of which
are enriched with fine sculptures je its rooms overlooking on one side the
ornamental tank, and on the other a garden still ornamented with shrubberies and
fine trees. This was the abode of one of Akbar’s wives, the Roumi Sultani,
daughter of one of the Sultans of Constantinople.

On a high terrace, to the right of this palace, is the emperor's sleeping-
apartment ; the ground floor containing a spacious hall with sculptured columns,
which is half filled up with rubbish.

On the west of the zenana rises a fanciful construction, called Pénch Mahal—

 

THE PANCH MAHAL, FUTTEHPORE-SIKRI.

“the Five Palaces ;”—-which consists of four terraces, supported by galleries, rising
one above another, and gradually diminishing in size towards the top, where they
terminate in a dome sustained by four columns. It resembles the half of a
pyramid, and has a very curious effect. The thirty-five pillars which support the
second terrace are all different, comprising almost every style and some very
remarkable specimens of original architecture. It is a valuable architectural
collection. There has been much discussion as to the design of this building,
since the open galleries could not possibly have been intended for habitation.
Its position against the walls of the zenana, the interior of which it overlooks
and communicates with, leads to the supposition that it was assigned to the
eunuchs ; but in any case it was a fanciful idea of the architect. In the little
court which surrounds the Panch Mahal are some very curious detached buildings
for the accommodation of the servants of the harem. The architect evidently
wished to give them an appearance most befitting their use; and, as there was
262 INDIA.

no wood at his disposal, he minutely copied in stone those slight constructions
which serve in the palaces of India as a shelter for the lower servants. The
roof, formed of slabs of stone, is carved to imitate thatch, and is supported by the
same network of beams which would be used for a lighter material than sand-
stone. In a word, they are sheds built of sculptured stone.

After passing through the galleries of the Panch Mahal, you come out upon
the principal court of the palace, called the Court of the Pucheesee; on one side
of which are the walls of the zenana, and on the other the apartments of the
ministers and the audience-chambers.

Pucheesee is a game of great antiquity, which the Indians have always been
passionately fond of; and it is played with pawns on chess-boards greatly resem-
bling those used in Europe. There are four players, with four pawns apiece ; and
the moves are regulated by throwing the dice, the object being to get your four
pawns into the centre square of the board. The game of pucheesee was played
by Akbar in a truly reyal manner; the court itself, divided into red and white
squares, being the board, and an enormous stone, raised on four feet, representing
the central point. It was here that Akbar and his courtiers played this game ;
sixteen young slaves from the harem, wearing the players’ colours, themselves
represented the pieces, and moved to the squares according to the throw of the
dice. It is said that the emperor took such a fancy to playing the game on this
grand scale that he had a court for pucheesee constructed in all his palaces; and
traces of such are still visible at Agra and Allahabad.

To the north of this court and on the same side as the Panch Mahal is a
palace, built with great simplicity, and in such a good state of preservation that
you might mistake it for a modern building. One wing is a perfect labyrinth of
corridors and passages, in which the ladies of the Court amused themselves with
their favourite games of “aukh-matchorlli,” or blind-man’s-buff, and hide-and-
seek ; and before it rises a kiosk of Hindoo architecture, called the Gooroo-ka-
Mundil, “Temple of the Mendicant.” The emperor, in order to show his regard
for the religion of the majority of his subjects, entertained at his court a Gooroo,
or religious mendicant of the Saiva sect, and even had this little temple built for
him and his co-religionists.

A little farther on and facing the zenana is one of the most beautiful build-
ings of Futtehpore, consisting of a graceful pavilion of one storey, surmounted by
four light cupolas. This is the Dewani-Khas, or Palace of the Council of State.
The simplicity of its outline, its square windows and handsome balcony, remind
one of our modern buildings. It is, however, quite in accordance with the char-
acter of Akbar, who, as well in architecture as in religion and government, never
copied his predecessors. The interior of the Dewani-Khas is a large hall the
whole height of the edifice, in the centre of which is an enormous column of red
sandstone, which terminates at some distance from the ceiling in a large capital
magnificently sculptured. This capital forms a platform, encircled by a light
balustrade, from which diverge four stone bridges, leading to four niches in the
corners of the building; and a staircase hidden in the wall leads to a secret
corridor which communicates with the niches. It is one of the strangest fancies
of the architect of Futtehpore.

On the occasion of a council being assembled, the emperor took his place on
the platform, his ministers occupying the niches; while the ambassadors and other
GATE OF THE ELEPHANTS. 303
personages who were called into their presence remained in the hall at the foot of
the column, and were unable to judge of the impression which their communica-
tions produced on the council.

A long gallery, partially in ruins, leads from the Dewani-Khas to the Dewani-
Am, or Palace of the Public Audiences. It is a small building, one side of which
overlooks the Court of the Pucheesee, and the other a large court surrounded by
colonnades.

The chronicler Aboul Fazel says that at certain hours the people were
admitted into this court. After the council the emperor repaired to the Dewani-
Am, where, after having put on his robes of state, he seated himself on a tribune
overlooking the court. Here he remained for some time, inquiring into and
redressing the grievances of the people, and receiving the strangers who flocked to
his court. According to tradition, it was here that he received the Jesuits of
Goa, who brought him the leaves and seeds of tobacco; and it was at Futtehpore
that Hakim Aboul Futteh Ghilani, one of Akbar’s physicians, is supposed to have
invented the hookah, the pipe of India.

It would take too long to describe every part of this vast palace in detail,
for, besides what I have already noticed, there are the baths, the mint, the
barracks, and numerous other buildings, all in ruins.

On the north-west slope of the hill are the palaces of the ministers and
grandees of Akbar’s court; among which may be noticed those of Aboul Fazel,
Feizi, and Birboul; the last of whom, a Brahmin, was prime minister. His house,
which displays wonderful taste and was built of rose-coloured stone carved in the
most delicate manner, has been completely restored and furnished in the European
style by the English Government; and it is here that the officers of Agra
resort for their picnics. Not far from the palace of Birboul are the Imperial
stables, containing more than two hundred stalls with stone feeding-troughs and
racks.

Thence, passing through the midst of ruins and rubbish, you come to the
Huttee Durwaza, “Gate of the Elephants”—a monumental gateway, with two
elephants sculptured on it in bas-relief. It was formerly the boundary of tke
aristocratic quarter of the town, which the common people were forbidden to enter.
On the other side of this gate there is a wide paved street, which must have been
one of the large bazaars, to judge from the ruins on each side of it; and at the
foot of the hill is a huge caravanserai, capable of containing several hundred
travellers, which is still frequented by pilgrims.

Near the entrance of the town is a curious tower crowned with a belvedere,
and ornamented with elephants’ tusks carved in stone; which goes by the name
of Herun Minar, “ Tower of the Antelopes.” One of Akbar’s favourite pastimes
was, it is said, to shoot antelopes, which were driven past him, from the top of
this tower.

There are five gates to the town, the walls of which are five miles in circum-
ference, and are in a good state of preservation.

Akbar, anxious to fertilise the land round his capital, constructed a vast
lake to the north of it, which is now dry, although the embankment still
remains.

It took me several days to explore the ruins of Futtehpore-Sikri. My guide
was Imdad Houssein Shisti, a direct descendant of the venerable patron of the
304 INDIA.

mountain. He was well versed in all the traditions and legends connected with
these monuments, and he showed me a very curious manuscript of the time of
Jehanghir, containing anecdotes and clever sayings attributed to Akbar.

We passed the last days of the year 1866 in the midst of all these grand
monuments of the past; and in the very room occupied by Akbar I read the
Chronicles of Aboul Fazel, and in imagination repeopled this magnificent abode
with the great geniuses of past ages. Every one knows how delightful the month
of December is in this country; the climate is like spring, without clouds or rain.
The evenings were particularly charming, when the shades of night were softly
illumined by the stars, and the eye wandered, as in a dream, over this vast city

of the dead.
CHAPTER XXVIIL

THE STATE OF DHOLEPORE.

Khairagurh.—Dholepore.—The Sacred Lake of Muchkounda,—Durbar of the Rana.

al) ANUARY rst, 1867.—We began the year energetically, for we
were in our saddles and leaving Futtehpore at three o’clock in
the morning ; when an icy wind sweeping over the plain made
us shiver, in spite of our warm wraps.

Dholepore is from twenty-six to twenty-eight miles in a
straight line from Futtehpore; and, as there is no road between
the two places, you have to travel literally across country, only now and then
being able to follow the rude tracks leading to some village. The country is very
rough and uneven, and abounds in bogs, from which it would be impossible to
extricate oneself without the help of guides from one hamlet to another. Surprise
may be felt that the night should be chosen for crossing such a dangerous
country ; but itis the custom to take advantage of the coolness of the temperature
at that time for making journeys of any length, particularly when the country is
uninteresting ; besides which the sure-footed camels, and the local knowledge of
the guide, are thoroughly to be depended on.

The first rays of the sun found us at the foot of some low rocky hills, sur-
rounded by swamps, in which hundreds of ducks were disporting themselves; and
at eight o’clock we reached the river Bahngunga, on the opposite bank of which
our tents were pitched, near the town of Khairagurh. On entering the camp we
were welcomed by the hurrahs and saléms of our servants wishing us a happy
new year, by which we were reminded that on this side of the Indus also presents
are given on New Year’s Day. In the afternoon we received in miniature durbar
the tassildar and principal inhabitants of Khairagurh, who came to offer us the
compliments of the season; and in the evening there was an illumination of the
camp, and sweetmeats and arrack were distributed to the visitors.

The Bahngunga (“Sister of the Ganges”) is a fine river, which rises in the
Mewati mountains and, uniting with the Parbatty, empties itself into the Jumna
opposite Sheikoabad. The country, near Khairagurh, through which it flows is
rich and fertile.

On the morning of the 2nd we started for Dholepore, which we reached in
five hours. Outside the town, and near the high road to Agra, is a magnificent
bungalow, reserved by the rajah for the accommodation of travellers, to which we
were directed, and where we were very hospitably received by the prince’s people.

The exact date of the founding of Dholepore is not known; but between the
U

 
306 INDIA.
eighth and tenth centuries a Rajpoot prince, of the name of Dhaula, established
himself on the banks of the Chumbul, where he built a fortress, which was sur-
rendered to Baber in 1526. The river has overflowed its banks, and gradually
encroached upon the town; and, the inhabitants being obliged to recede before it
step by step, the town is now situated more than a mile from its original
position.

Pillaged and fired in turn by the Jats and the Mahrattas, the unfortunate
town is now the mere shadow of what it once was; yet it has nearly forty
thousand inhabitants, who are scattered over the three districts of Naya
Chaonee, Kila, and Pourana Chaonee, which are separated from each other by
solitary wastes.

Dholepore, nevertheless, has the honour of independence. In the treaty of
1806, between the British Government and the Maharajah of Dholepore, it is
stipulated that “the king shall retain absolute sovereignty over his own territories,
free from all right of intervention on the part of the English Government, who,
in their turn, shall be free from all responsibility, and shall not be required to
give him their aid and protection.”

The first thing we did on reaching the Monti bungalow was to acquaint the
rajah of our arrival. He immediately sent his salams through his vukeel, who
brought with him a magnificent basket of fruit, flowers, and vegetables, several
pairs of chickens, and a kid; and in the evening, Gungadhar Rao, the prime
minister, paid us a visit on behalf of the king. He is a Brahmin of the Dekkan,
a well-instructed man, of polished manners, who speaks English fluently. He
came to inform us that the Maharaj Rana, his master, was obliged to keep his
bed on account of a somewhat serious indisposition, which would prevent his
seeing us for several days. To prevent our time from hanging heavily on our
hands, however, the carriages and elephants of the Court were placed at our
disposal, and the vukeel was instructed to guide us in our excursions in the
neighbourhood.

It is well known that the climate of India is regulated by very decided
seasons, which concentrate all the heat, cold, and rain into certain fixed periods
of the year. Thus, as a general rule, the dry season lasts from October to June
and the rainy season from June to October. The traveller, therefore, need not
trouble himself to study the weather beyond these rules; but the proverb says,
with truth, that the exception proves the rule; and, although the effect of the
monsoons is as regular as possible in the peninsula and on the sea-coast, this is
by no means the case in Central India. The seasons here are much more like
those of Europe ; and, although it rains a great deal in August and September,
it becomes cold in December and January, and there are storms and showers
in every month. This I found to be the case at Dholepore, where, soon after
our arrival, we had three days of fine rain, accompanied by a thick fog worthy
of England. We had, therefore, to remain shut up in our bungalow, with
nothing to relieve the monotony but the visits of one or two Jat nobles. The
rain had so saturated the ground, which was a rich yellow soil, that the roads
were all impassable for twenty-four hours.

The present town, or rather the district, of Naya Chaonee (“ New Camp”) has
only existed for forty years, and dates from the making of the English road from
Agra to Indore; and the present rajah, seeing the advantage to be derived from
DHOLEPORE. 307
proximity to this road, established himself near it, carrying with him half the
population of Pourana Chaonee (“Old Camp”). The only buildings worthy of
note in this town are the king’s palace and one or two temples; but you have.
only to follow the gradual advance of the town, from the Chumbul to its present
situation, to find several interesting groups of ruins.

The Dholepore of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries is the nearest to
Naya Chaonee. The inundations have destroyed the greater part of the town,
but some tombs, a few ruined palaces, and a mosque still remain. The mosque,
which was built in 1634 by Shah Jehan, is of red sandstone, and, though small,
is of great beauty; and it is surrounded by an. extensive Mussulman cemetery, of
which the principal feature is the Jasjiree, the mausoleum of a Sayud missionary.
It is a simple marble cenotaph, standing on a high terrace, which is surrounded
by a magnificent stone railing of the most perfect design and workmanship ; and
near it is another raised platform, supporting the tombs of the family of the
Nawab Sadduk, the Mogul governor of the province. A little farther on is the
monumental caravanserai erected by Shah Jehan; and numerous other ruins,
interesting to the archeologist, cover the plain to the distance of nearly a
mile.

On leaving these ruins you descend some deep ravines, and soon find yourself
in the midst of an inextricable labyrinth of fantastic peaks and cliffs, the average
height of which is from eighty to a hundred feet. This was the work of the
Chumbul. Its waters, swollen during the rainy season, beat themselves with
fury against the overhanging banks and, working into the soft crumbling soil,
made deep channels and ravines, several miles in depth, which, crossing each other
in all directions, left jagged and pointed islands, resembling a miniature chain of
mountains, on each side of the river. One of the peculiarities of these hills is
that their tops are on a level with the surrounding country, and nearly all
of the same height. It is impossible to form an idea of the beauty of this scene,
for no mountains present such a rugged appearance; and the scenery becomes
more rugged and abrupt the nearer you approach the river. On the summit of
one of the hills stands the ancient fortress of Dhaula; and, from the way in which
its walls are built and supported on the edge of the cliff, it is evident that the
ravines of the Chumbul were in existence at the time of its construction ; and
that the Rajpoot prince took advantage of the admirable strategical position which
Nature thus offered: but Hindoo tradition rejects this evidence, affirming that
inundations of the Chumbul did not occur until after the founding of Dholepore,
which during the first years of its existence was separated from the plain only by
its own walls; and the natives account for the extraordinary ravages caused by
the river in a few centuries by the theory that these inundations were occasioned
by a rupture in the embankment of a large lake, then existing in Upper Malwa,
which fed the principal course of the Chumbul. Such may have been the case,
but history makes no mention of this great overflow.

The old fortress is much dilapidated ; the walls, which are of immense thick-
ness, and supported by large round towers, still rise proudly above the ruins; but
the interior is a scene of desolation, and you can scarcely trace even the position
of the ancient buildings. Several enormous cannon, without carriages, lie half
buried in the rubbish. The fortified plateau and the neighbouring slopes continue
to form part of the capital, and contain several thousand inhabitants.
308 INDIA.

From the summit of the bastions, however, you overlook an extensive panorama,
which quite compensates for the want of interest in the interior of the fortress.
Thence you can follow the course of the Chumbul for a distance of more than ten
miles, as it flows majestically between its rugged and fantastic banks, which look
like a diminutive chain of the Himalayas. On the west rises the massive range
of the Pathar mountain; and the fertile plain of Malwa stretches in every other
direction, as far as the eye can reach.

On returning from this excursion we found the vukeel, the dewan, and a great
number of the officers of the palace, at our bungalow, all in a state of great excite-
ment. On my asking them the cause of their emotion, they threw up their arms,
and cried in a heart-broken voice, “Gaee mara!” (“ They have killed a cow!”)
After an interval I arrived at the solution of the mystery. During our absence
a Highland regiment, on the march to Mhow, halted in a wood near our residence,
and obtained the consent of the Jat authorities to pitch their camp there; and,
contrary to the stipulation of the treaty, the soldiers had slaughtered an ox, which
they were calmly preparing to convert into beefsteaks. Hence the horror and
lamentations of the Hindoos: the holy territory of Dholepore was polluted by the
murder of the sacred animal. But, although it had been agreed that such sacrilege
should not be committed by English troops in the country of the Jat Rana, it was
of little avail to plead this condition in the face of a thousand hungry British
soldiers anxiously awaiting their supper. Everybody was indignant, but none
ventured to interfere; and they consoled themselves with the thought that the
offenders would soon be gone, carrying with them all traces of the corpus delicti,
and that the old king would never know anything about it.

Behind a large forest to the south-west of Dholepore appear the barren reddish
peaks forming the extreme end of the lofty Pathar range; which, detached from
the plateau of the Vindhya mountains near Neemuch, separates Rajpootana proper
from Malwa. Their bare summits are dotted with numerous dourgahs; and the
Chumbul, emerging from the Vindhyas near Mandoo, flows at their base, and
after a course of about seven hundred miles, empties itself into the Jumna at
Etawah.

The sacred lake of Muchkounda, or Mouchou Kounda, lies hidden among these
heights about two miles from the town. According to the legend it was created
by the god Krishna to reward the hero Mouchou, a prince of this country, who
had saved his life; wherefore it is held in high veneration by the sect of the
Krishnayas. It is situated on high rocky ground, which rises above sterile plateaux
formed of huge masses of granite scorched by the sun and washed by the rain;
and a stifling atmosphere, worthy of the banks of the Styx, pervades this deserted
spot. On arriving at the foot of the hill you have to dismount from your elephant,
and climb a steep path, cut out of the rock, which leads to one of the gates of
Muchkounda. The lake is, properly speaking, nothing more than a tank from
1800 to 2000 feet in length and about 650 feet in width, the edge of which is
completely surrounded by a handsome flight of stone steps, relieved by innumerable
chatris with four columns; and the palaces and temples which overlook it are
reflected with their colonnades and cupolas on the limpid surface of the water;
while trees of a hundred years’ growth stretch their branches above the ghauts,
enveloping them in a mysterious shade. The scene is of striking beauty: the
magnificence of the buildings, the clearness of the water, and the silence, which is
MUCHKOUNDA. 309

only broken by the birds, all combining to impart an irresistible charm to this
oasis flourishing in the midst of a burning desert.
The greater part of the buildings at Muchkounda date only from the

 

TEMPLE AT MUCHKOUNDA, NEAR DHOLEPORE.

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seventeenth century. A few, however, are of great antiquity 3 and some, like the
palace of the Rana of Dholepore, have been only recently built. Each temple is
surrounded by extensive buildings for the accommodation of the pilgrims, who,

 
310 INDIA.
at certain periods of the year, flock here in great numbers; and, the lake
being consecrated to Krishna, all the sanctuaries are dedicated to Krishnayan
divinities.

The mahunt of the principal temple, which is dedicated to Juggernauth (“the
Lord of the World”), invited us to visit the abode of his god. To my great
astonishment, he conducted us into the sanctuary itself, where, by the dim light,
we distinguished a graceful marble idol of the handsome shepherd dancing before
the milkmaids of Muttra. He also showed us over the convent, taking us into
the several rooms, where the fat Brahmins live in pious contemplation. This
mahunt was a remarkable individual. He had been an old bandit, but, finding
his sword was becoming irksome to him, he turned saint in his old age; and his
whole appearance bespoke the warrior, with the exception of his bare head and
shoulders, which were smeared with oil and cinders, after the manner of the
anchorites. His curled moustache and pointed whiskers, and the dagger at his
belt, contrasted strangely with the sacred triple cord which hung from his neck,
His anecdotes, too, were, like his personal appearance, a mixture of the profane
and the religious; and, delighted at finding such ready listeners, he recounted
many of his adventures in the good old times, interspersed with the legends of the
lake. He showed me a paper which stated that when Lord Lake encamped with
all his army near Muchkounda in 1807, the water necessary for that multitude,
as well as a large number of elephants, was for a whole month drawn daily from
the lake, without in the slightest degree lowering its level; and two fairs, he
informed me, are annually held here, which bring together more than forty
thousand pilgrims. Three hundred religious devotees reside permanently on the
banks of the lake. Before leaving the temple, by way of testifying our apprecia-
tion of the kindly reception accorded to us by the mahunt, I deposited a few
rupees in the plate which is placed at the foot of the idol; and our offering was
accepted by the god, who, in return, sent us a plate of sweetmeats.

On leaving Muchkounda we crossed the hills to the Pourana Chaonee. This
town was built at the end of the last century by the first Jat rajah of Dholepore ;
and the king continued to reside there until the present king founded the Naya
Chaonee, about two miles from it. In spite of being thus abandoned by the
Court, the town is still prosperous; the bazaars are clean, and present an animated
appearance ; and, in point of natural position and aspect, it is far superior to its
rival. The buildings of the palace, which remind one of those at Digh, are
encompassed by a beautiful garden,

The first thing you come to on leaving the town is an old ruined mosque, in
front of which lies an enormous bronze cannon, nearly eighteen feet long, and
curiously embossed. I was told that it was taken at Agra by the Jits of
Dholepore, who transported it hither as a trophy.

On the morning of the 13th, the Dewan Gungadhar Rao called at our
bungalow to conduct us to the palace, where the king awaited us in durbar,
surrounded by his Court. As we entered the audience-chamber every one rose,
and the prince, advancing, shook hands with us, and made us sit down beside
him.

The Maharaj Rana Bagwan Sing, an old man of about sixty, is a true
specimen of the Jat warrior. He has a gentle but manly expression of counten-
ance, in which respect he is unlike the Rajpoot race; and his long white whiskers,
MAHARA¥ RANA BAGWAN SING. Bir

dyed with red ochre, have not the desired effect of making him appear fierce,
His head was protected by a steel helmet, attached to a narrow circle of gold.
and covered with strings of emeralds; he wore a breastplate of mail, from which

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BAGWAN SING, MAHARAJ RANA OF DHOLEPORE.

depended innumerable strings of pearls and diamonds; and his hands were
encased in steel gauntlets, which were fastened to armlets. From his waist hung
a formidable array of arms—a heavy katar, two short sabres, a dagger, and a
brace of pistols; and he leaned on a large shield of transparent rhinoceros hide,
312 INDIA.

embossed with gold. His throne was the ancient gadi of the Hindoo princes,
over which was the royal chatta, a blue velvet parasol richly embroidered with
silver; and beside him sat his grandson, a boy of four years, half smothered
in rich stuffs and jewels. The high officers of state, Jats, Mussulmans, and
Brahmins, crowded round the throne, behind which stood the servants, waving
the Thibetian ydks’ tails and the large peacock fans. It was a genuine Durbar,
according to the rules of ancient Hindoo etiquette, without any European innova-
tions ; and, although it could not be compared to the magnificent display of the
courts of Oudeypoor and Jeypore, it presented a more original and striking
appearance.

The maharaj conversed freely with us during the audience; he spoke
particularly of his efforts to restore to his country the prosperity which it had
lost during the terrible wars of the last century. His subjects have given him
the name of “the friend of the people.” Before retiring, we received the utterpan
from the hand of the prince himself.

The palace stands in a charming garden, over which the Dewan conducted us
after the durbar. In one of the pavilions is the rajah’s museum of artillery,
containing a fine collection of ancient arms; in which are models of the firearms
used in India since the fifteenth century, amongst them a very curious revolver
with five chambers. The collection of swords, scimitars, and daggers is very
complete, and includes katars * of great weight, and a pretty Indian tarwar, the
embossed blade of which forms a sheath for a second smaller sword. The museum
also contains some pieces of ordnance, most of them of ancient date and curious
workmanship; the most remarkable being a rifled cannon of the seventeenth
century, a gun with four barrels, and a St. Andrew’s cross formed of cannons
placed on end. The maharaj was making preparations for sending this fine
collection to the exhibition which was to be opened at Agra in February.

The king was anxious that we should have a hunt in the mountains before our
departure. The meet was at a charming little palace, situated on the banks of a
picturesque lake in the mountains, about ten miles from the town. To the great
annoyance of the prince, the shikarees were unable to find a tiger; but two good
days’ sport made up for the disappointment. Our bag was made up of a great
variety of game—wild boars, nilghaus, fallow-deer, and a specimen of the barking
antelope, a small roe-deer, with a cry somewhat resembling the bark of a dog.

The thickets of brushwood and tall grass of the kalam species, which cover
these wild plateaux, abound also in feathered game. You find here a beautiful
bird of the same class as the grouse of Scotland. Its plumage slightly resembles
that of the partridge, the throat is of a velvety brown, the wings have a wide
spread, and terminate in a point; and the feet are small; and the bird roosts on
the ground. The English call it the rock pigeon, and the Indians pahar teter, or
mountain partridge. It is difficult to get near it, as it always keeps in the open.
The flesh is excellent eating.

On our return to Dholepore, the rana placed at our disposal the animals
which we required to carry our baggage, and also an elephant to take us to
Gwalior. At our last interview with him he presented us with a magnificent
khillut of Cashmere shawls and jewels.

* The katar is a dagger with a triangular blade, the metal hilt of which consists of two pieces joined
together by a handle.
CROSSING THE CHUMBUL. 313

January 18th.—We left Dholepore in the morning. The English high road
crosses the Chumbul by a bridge of boats, about a mile from the town; but, as
this bridge was not strong enough to support an elephant, we were obliged to
look for a ford. We travelled for ag hour through wild ravines before reaching
a point of the river at which, though the bed is over a mile in width, it is only

 

 

JAT NOBLES.

two-thirds full of water. On either side rose the high banks, with their rugged
peaks blending with the mountains on the horizon. _The view is of immense
extent, and one may truly say that throughout India it is impossible to find a
finer landscape than at this point of the Chumbul. On arriving at the bank the
elephant slowly entered the water, sounding the bottom with his trunk before
314 INDIA.

placing his feet. The channel in the centre was more than twenty yards broad,
and so deep that the elephant was obliged to swim across. We were now in the
territory of the powerful Scindia, but we still had to traverse several miles of
ravines before reaching the normal level of the plain; where we had simply to
follow the high road, with its two lines of telegraph wires, which passes through
the midst of this fertile country ; and near Changda, a large village picturesquely
situated on the banks of a little river, we found a dik bungalow, round which
most of our party were already encamped.

January 19th—We had twenty-three miles yet to travel from Changda to
Gwalior. The country continued to be flat and well cultivated, but to the west
we could see the blue summits of a chain of mountains.

At nine o’clock we came to an old Hindoo bridge across the river Sonk,
opposite Nourabad. This bridge is built of solid granite, and rests upon seven
pointed arches; at each end are two high obelisks, and several chitris break the
monotonous line of the parapets. It is a remarkable structure, and one of the
few existing specimens of this style of architecture; in which, however, the
Indians had arrived at a high degree of perfection. It was built in the sixteenth
century with the alms collected by a society of goussains, or philanthropic
beggars, who went from village to village collecting and selling consecrated oils ;
whence its name of Tali-ka-poul, or Bridge of the Oil-merchant.

Under the Padishahs, Nourabad was an important town, and the capital of one
of the provinces of Northern Malwa. The high embattled walls, defended by
square towers, and the monumental gates still give it a fine appearance. We
stopped here a few minutes, in order to visit a palace built by the Emperor
Aurungzeb; in the garden enclosing which is the mausoleum of the celebrated |
Gouna Begum, who died in 1775, and who was the author of the famous “ Taza-
bi-Taza” and other popular poems.

On leaving Nourabad we could see the hills which surround Gwalior; but
before reaching them we met with an accident, which put a sudden stop to our
progress. At Dholepore we had been presented with a magnificent houdah with
velvet cushions, supported by two gilt swans, which must have been in existence
a great many years. It suddenly came in two, and it was a mere chance that
we were not precipitated off the top of the elephant. Our position now was
anything but pleasant, the fact of our servants having preceded us with the
horses compelling us, in spite of the intolerable heat, to continue our journey on
foot, carrying the broken remains of the houdah. However, about a mile from
Gwalior we met a country cart, in which we placed the houdah; and we once
more mounted our elephant, riding astride on his back. Such was the sorry
plight in which we reached the bungalow of Gwalior, after having counted upon
making a triumphal entry with our golden swans!
CHAPTER XXIX.

GWALIOR,

History of Gwalior.—The Fortress—Palace of the Pal King —Jain Temples.—A Buddhist
Temple.—The Ravine of Ourwhai, or the Happy Valley, —The Jains,

HE ancient city of Gwalior, which must not be confounded with
the modern town of that name, nor with the Mahratta camp of
the Scindias, is situated on the summit of a steep and isolated
rock, 342 feet in height at the north end, where it is highest,
and a mile and a half in length; its greatest breadth is 300
yards. Its position and the exterior appearance of its fortifica-
fleas, behind which rise numerous monuments, remind one of Chittore, the famous
capital of Meywar.

This rock, which is a block of basalt topped with sandstone, stands like a
sentinel at the entrance of a valley; and above the slopes at its foot rise
pointed cliffs, forming natural ramparts, on which are built the fortifications of
the town.

Tradition places the date of the founding of Gwalior several centuries before
the Christian era.* The attention of the Aryan colonists from the valley of the
Chumbul probably was early attracted by the admirable natural position of this.
rock. The first to establish themselves here were no doubt the anchorites, who
were sent forth in such numbers by the Indian schools of philosophy in the
seventeenth and sixteenth centuries before the Christian era, as is attested by the
numerous caverns, formed by man, in the sides of the rock. In 773 Rajah
Sourya Sena completed a system of defence round the plateau by constructing
ramparts, The Kachwas held the fortress until the reign of Tej Pal Doula, who,
upon being expelled by the Chohans in 967, founded the dynasty of Ambir.
Sultan Shahab Oudin’s generalissimo, Koutub Hibeck, took it from the Chohans in
1196; and thirty-eight years later it was again taken by the Emperor Altamsh
after a long siege. In 1410, the Touar Rajpoots got possession of it, and held it
until 1519, when it was finally attached to the crown of Delhi by Ibrahim Lodi.
At the dismemberment of the Mogul empire, it fell alternately into the hands of
the Jiéts and Mahrattas. In 1779 it was garrisoned by Scindia, from whom it
was taken by a British force under Major Popham, and it was again made over to
Scindia by the treaty of 1805.

But the vicissitudes of the ancient fortress did not end here. In 1857, the
Maharajah Scindia having refused to countenance the revolt, the rebels, under the

* Ferishta,

  
316 INDIA.

command of one of Nana Sahib’s captains, took the place; but General Sir Hugh
Rose dislodged them by planting his batteries on the surrounding heights, and, for
the purpose of protecting the young king from his rebellious subjects, the English
kept possession of the plateau.

The present town of Gwalior extends to the north and east of the fortress,
being hemmed in between the rock and the river Sawunrika. It was a large and
handsome settlement, containing thirty or forty thousand inhabitants; but the
founding of a new capital by the Scindias, at a distance of about two miles, was
a death-blow to its grandeur, the higher branches of trade and the nobility having
followed the Court to Lashkar. The architecture of its stone houses is, for the
most part, handsome; but the streets are narrow and crooked. It is probable
that at one time there was a large suburb round the foot of the ascent leading to
the fortress, but it was not until the sixteenth century that the town assumed its
present proportions. There are no monuments to be found of an earlier date;
and the two worthy of remark are the Jummah Musjid, a handsome mosque,
flanked by two lofty minarets, and the Hatti Durwaza, or “Gate of the
Elephants,” a curious triumphal arch, situated on a mound at the entrance to
the town.

The bazaars of Gwalior contain several manufactures peculiar to the place,
such as silken fabrics, embroidered in gold, for turbans ; sarris, or cotton scarfs for
women, and curious stuffs in the most brilliant colours. A very fair trade is
carried on in these articles.

Two flights of steps, one on the east and the other on the west, lead up to the
fortress ; of which that on the east is a notable achievement, since it had to be cut
out of the solid rock. It is the more ancient of the two; and, although on a
very steep incline, it is practicable for horses and elephants.

In order to reach this elevation, you must traverse the whole length of the
lower town; and the entrance to it is guarded by an embattled fortification and
guard-houses. Hidden among the trees, at a short distance, stands a large palace,
the exterior of which is ornamented with bright blue enamel. Five monumental
gates, placed at intervals, and still armed with portcullis and heavy iron doors,
guard the access to the fortress. From the first, which is a splendid triumphal
arch with a Saracenic archway, and surmounted by a tier of small columns,
commences the causeway, which, although wide and well kept, is a long and
fatiguing ascent; and thence also commences a series of monuments, bas-reliefs,
caverns, and cisterns, forming a natural museum of great interest to the archxo-
logist. Even the rocks which overhang the road merit his attention, for they
contain numerous chambers, altars, and statues, which are reached by narrow paths,
requiring a steady head and a sure and practised foot.

Between the third and fourth gate are some huge tanks, excavated out of the
solid rock, and fed by springs. The capitals of the pillars which support the
ceiling appear above the water, and one can scarcely distinguish the bottom in the
obscurity. Near these tanks the surface of the rock, which has been made smooth
and even, is covered with numerous bas-reliefs; one of the largest of which,
representing an elephant and rider, still is easily distinguishable in spite of con-
siderable mutilation: and farther on is a head of Siva.

Opposite the fourth gate is a small monolith of great antiquity, supposed to
date from the fifteenth century. It is a temple cut out of a single block of stone,
THE KING PAL PALACE. =

and consists of a small square room, entered by a peristyle and crowned with a
pyramidical spire. The upper portion of the latter, having been destroyed, has
been replaced by a small dome in stonework; and a few sculptures surround the
entrance to the sanctuary and the altar

On the summit of the hill stands King Pal, which springs from the very
brink of the precipice. It is supported by six towers, and pierced by only a few
large windows ornamented with balconies and pilasters. Sculptured bands, Jain
arches, and indented cordons relieve the monotony of the massive exterior, and
give it a peculiarly light and graceful appearance. The spaces between the Jain
arches of the gallery are filled in and covered with mosaics in enamelled bricks.
representing palm-trees on a blue ground; and each tower is surmounted by a
lantern with a double row of columns. It is difficult to imagine a grander or
more harmonious effect than that produced by this gigantic edifice, combining
rampart and palace in one.

_ At the south angle of the palace is a gateway, which gives access to the
interior of the fortress, and through which you enter a narrow street that over-
looks the lateral frontage of the palace. This is built on the same plan as the
exterior, but here the stone is completely hidden by enamel. Bands of mosaics
representing candelabra, Brahma ducks, elephants, and peacocks in blue, rose-
colour, green, and gold, give this immense blank wall an incomparably beautiful
appearance. The bricks of which these mosaics are composed still retain their
primitive brilliancy of colour and delicacy of shading, though ten centuries have
passed over them. I know of no country in the world where an architect has
succeeded so well in giving a graceful appearance to a heavy blank wall.

The exact date of the construction of these facings is unknown, though it is
certain that they were the work of a Rajpoot prince of the name of Pal; but, as
several Chandela and Kachwa chiefs bore this name, it is difficult to fix the date
more precisely than between the eighth and ninth centuries.

The palace of the kings of Gwalior covers an immense area on the east of the
plateau; but it was not the work of a single prince; the most ancient portions
of it date back to the sixteenth century. Each dynasty enlarged the mass of
buildings, and the Moguls themselves made considerable additions to it. The
interior of the palace of Pal is extremely simple in style. The various storeys,
which you enter through rows of square pillars, overlook the large paved courts ;
and the rooms are low, with flat ceilings.

Among these ruins a portion of the ancient palace of the Vaishnava kings
may still be seen. The thick walls, pierced with triangular openings, are some-
what in the same style as the corridors of the Mexican temples. It is to be
regretted that so much of this part of the palace has already been destroyed.

The northern extremity of the plateau, which gradually becomes narrower
and narrrower, was entirely covered by the palaces of the Emperors Akbar and
Jehanghir ; but you do not find here the magnificent buildings of Agra or of

‘Delhi. It is evident that these were mere provincial residences. There are,
nevertheless, a graceful dewani-khas and a small zenana, containing some fine
galleries.

Of the houses of the ancient town nothing now remains but a mass of rubbish,
which covers the whole plateau. In the excavations of these ruins by the English
several distinct layers of débris were found to exist ; which proves that the town
318 INDIA.

was destroyed several times, and was always rebuilt on the ruins of the former
town. These works have led to the discovery of various coins and implements,
but I am not aware that any use has been made of them to determine the various
dates in the history of Gwalior.

i
| \ He

  
 

TEMPLE OF ADINATH.

i i! if Wi
Ai ia
SA AMAA
A AA AE
WA |

AM

On one of the plateaux which jut out from the eastern slope of the mountain
rises the imposing temple of Adinath, one of the finest specimens of Jain archi-
tecture of the sixteenth century. The ground plan of the temple is in the form
TEMPLE OF ADINATH. 319
of a cross; and the chaori, or portion of it set apart for the faithful, is crowned
with a dome. The spire which surmounted the sanctuary must have been nearly
double its height, but it is now in ruins. The entire edifice rests upon a richly
sculptured pedestal, A handsome portico leads into the chaori, from which you
gain access to the interior of the temple—a vast hall surrounded by two tiers of
galleries, open to the air. At the farther end is a sombre chapel, rich in sculp-
tures, but now despoiled of its idol, with a balcony on each side, forming the
extremity of the lateral naves; and four enormous square pillars, in the centre of
the temple, support the heavy stone ceiling. The cupola of the dome, upheld by
innumerable pilasters, is visible through a large circular opening in the roof, and
appears as though suspended above the temple. Photography alone can do justice
to the elaborate details in the rich decorations of this building; but, unfortunately,
Mussulman vandalism has already accomplished its work of mutilation in behead-
ing all the statues. Nearly all the sculptures are in full relief, instead of the
usual bas-reliefs. The magnificent arabesques which ornament the pillars are
particularly worthy of attention. They are simply cut in the polished stone, with
clear sharp edges.

This temple may be classed with the Arai-din-ka-Jhopra of Ajmeer, and the
sanctuaries of Mount Aboo, among the finest productions of the Vedyavhans. The
English evidently wish to spare it, but this will not save it from destruction, for
already it is so much shaken that, unless immediate steps are taken for its
preservation, the next monsoons will throw it down.

A great number of religious buildings, most of them Jain, encircled the
temple. At the time of my first visit they were being pulled down; and, on my
return a few montlis later, there was no trace of them left. The destruction of
these temples has brought to light a multitude of ancient statues, some of them
Buddhist, which were hidden in the foundations.

Not far from here a wide rampart (probably the wall of the town of Sourya
Sena) extending across the plateau divided it in two; but at the date of my visit
it was being blown up. Against the inner side of this rampart were built numerous
chapels ; in one of which, half buried by the rubbish, I discovered a beautiful
statue of a woman reclining on a sleeping lion. Its artistic grouping and purity
of outline gave it somewhat of a Greek character. I pointed it out to the
officer who accompanied me, and hope thus to have saved it from the general
destruction.

We came at last to the Vihara temple, one of the most remarkable buildings
in Gwalior. It is situated exactly in the centre of the plateau; and from the
plains, at a considerable distance, you can see its monumental tower of stone,
which rises to a height of more than a hundred and twenty feet. Against the
entrance front is a spacious portico; but, as the dome has fallen in, it is difficult
to judge of original appearance. A large apartment occupies the ground floor of
the temple, in which there used to stand a gigantic statue of Buddha, the outline
of which still remains on the wall at the back; and above this are apartments
corresponding to the five storeys of the pyramid. Sculptured pediments over the
square doors are the only ornaments of the lower walls ; and the widest sides of
the pyramid are simply decorated with some lightly sculptured cordons and a few
alcoves and niches, but not a single idol; while the lesser sides are entirely taken
up by an imitation of the great window in the Buddhic temple of Viswakarma at
320 INDIA.

Ellora. The plinths of the principal door are covered with remarkable bas-reliefs,
representing groups of women carrying standards, which greatly resemble the
sculptures in the temple of Sanchi.

It is most important that the real origin of this monument should be satis-
factorily determined; for, could it be piaiel to be Buddhic, it would be the sole
representative of those innumerable Viharas which the Chinese travellers of the
fourteenth and seventeenth centuries have so well described to us. There is,
however, no doubt that the Jains took possession of the temple at an unknown
date, and adapted it to their own worship.

In its vicinity extend the long lines of the English barracks, which are large,
well ventilated, extremely clean, and admirably adapted to this murderous climate.
On the other side of the barracks there are some large tanks cut out of the rock,
like those of Chittore, designed for the purpose of collecting rain-water, in case of
the failure of the springs on the plateau ; but being too open, and exposed to the
sun, the water in them soon becomes impure and muddy.

On the west of the plateau the wall of rock has been split nearly in two by
a convulsion of nature, which has left a deep and narrow gorge between two steep
precipices. This gorge is called by the natives Ourwhai, and it is to it that the
mountain owes its ancient celebrity.

This sombre valley, to which the sun’s rays, intercepted by the overhanging
walls of rock, rarely penetrated, must at once have attracted the mystical Jain
philosophers. Here they discovered numerous springs, which kept up a perpetual
freshness of atmosphere, and developed a vegetation in the deep recesses unusual
in this country. Ourwhai became the scene of their most mysterious rites, and
their colossal idols were ranged along the whole length of the valley. 1t would
be difficult to find, even in India, a site more admirably adapted by nature for a
temple of one of the primitive religions of man. Even now, on entering the
ravine (which the English have strangely christened the Happy Valley), one is
struck by the grand and mysterious aspects of this natural temple. You are
enveloped in a damp, cold atmosphere; and, in the gloom, gigantic forms with
Sphinx faces and red eyes appear through the tangled branches of the creeping-
plants. What must have been the terror of the neophyte on entering for the first
time this awful sanctuary, with its immense altars, its idols, and its mysteriously
lighted caverns, when even a sceptical European cannot contemplate the scene
without a shudder !

But even Ourwhai’s days were numbered. On returning in December 1867,
I found the trees cut down, the statues hewn in pieces by the pickaxes of the
workmen, and a new road, constructed by the English, running through the ravine,
which was filled with the ruins of the Chandela and Touar palaces and the idols
of the Buddhists and the Jains.

The rocks on either side of the ravine rise perpendicularly to a height of
ninety feet from the steep bank of rubbish on both sides of the road. The face
of the precipice on the left is covered for a distance of five hundred paces with
statues cut in the solid rock. These statues, of which there are a considerable
number, represent all the Jain Tirthankars, and vary in size from an idol of a foot
high to a colossal figure of forty feet. The Tirthankars are portrayed either
standing, with their arms hanging down, or sitting with their legs crossed, in the
usual posture of the Buddhas. The figures are stiff and disproportioned ; the
COLOSSAL STATUES. ” i

bodies are naked; and the faces remind one of the Egyptian Sphinx, with enor-
mous eyes, thick lips, and the lobes of the ears hanging down to the shoulders.
The heads of these monsters are covered with circular mitres ornamented with

CAVERN OF THE TIRTHANKARS.,

 

little balls. Some travellers have tried to prove that this head-gear was. sangre
to represent the crisp woolly -curls which are the characteristic of the negro, a
have thus concluded that the idols were of African type; but the border roun

the mitre condemns the hypothesis. Each statue is placed in a cle niche,
INDIA,

322

surmounted by a dais, and stands on an altar bearing the “ Panchun,” or the
distinctive sign of the Tirthankar.

One of the principal figures is that of the Tirthankar Adinath, the fabulous
founder of the Jain religion. It is now completely hidden by the new road
constructed by the English. A little farther on is the statue of Parusnath,
which stands in a deep niche, and measures no less than sixty feet in height.
The rock also contains several small square chambers, evidently the dwellings of
the priests ; in one of which is a very pretty model of a temple, carved out of a
single block of sandstone.

The wall of rock to the right is somewhat poor in sculptures, though it has
some interesting features; the most striking of which is the cavern of the
Tirthankars. This chamber, which is entered through several arches, contains
three colossal figures, twenty feet high; but, the front having fallen in, it is
difficult of access.

No inscription has yet been found that can determine the precise date of
these statues, although Prinsep has discovered the name of a Tarapani or Toranama
king, who reigned in the third century of our era. It is probable that the excava-
tions at Ourwhai extended over a period of several centuries, dating from before
the Christian era up to the ninth century.

Of all the religions which have flourished and still exist throughout India,
that of the Jains is certainly the one which most merits our attention, for it has
left us the most marvellous collection of monuments, from the basilicas of Mount
Aboo to the Kheerut Khoumb of Chittore.

The Jains possess numerous religious books, the translation of which would
throw great light on the remote ages of Indian history. According to these, the
origin of Jainism dates back hundreds of centuries before the Christian era. It
is, at all events, proved to have existed before the appearance of Sakya Mouni;
and it is even possible that the doctrines of the latter were only a transformation
of the Jain religion. The Buddhists indeed affirm that Mahavira, the last Jain
Tirthankar, was Sakya’s instructor.

About the twelfth century the disaffection of the Rajpoots deprived the Jains
of a great portion of their influence. The Brahmins had gained this warlike class
over to the new pantheism by offering them the title and prerogatives of the —
ancient Khashatryas: but if the Jains have lost the allegiance of the Rajpoots,
to whom the fierce worship of Iswara was more congenial, they have retained
that of the majority of the -influential class of the merchants, which is also
shared by the Vaishnavas. To this day they possess a large portion of the
wealth of India; and they number among their adherents the heads of the
principal houses of Bombay and Calcutta.

Only the Bhikchons are called Jains, or the “ purified;” the faithful bear
the name of Arahat. The former are marked on the forehead with sandal-wood ;
and they wear cloths over their mouths, and carry brooms with which they respect-
fully brush away any insects they come across. They extend this respect for
animal life to such an extreme that they sternly refuse to touch animal food. I
have already described their celebrated Pinjrapol, or hospital for animals.

The Jains are the greatest, indeed, one may almost say, the only architects
of India; for the other sects have but copied their earlier monuments: ahd in
fact the whole of the Indo-Mussulman architecture was the work of the Jain
¥AIN SCULPTURES. 323

school. The Hindoos have given them the name of Vedyavhan, or magic
builders.

The entrance to the ravine of OQurwhai is guarded towards the plain by a
line of massive ramparts, construcjed by the Emperor Shemsoodeen Altamsh
in the year 1235; at the foot of which are some deep wells of excellent water.
They are round, and of an immense diameter; and a winding staircase in the
stone wall descends to the level of the water. These also are the work of Jain
architects. :

Leaving the fortress and going round to the south-east face of the mountain,
you find another interesting group of Jain sculptures. The surface of the rock,
to a distance of two hundred paces, has been dressed so as to form a smooth
and even wall; and the excavations extend along the lower portion of this wall,
opening on to a small ter-
race built on the slope of
the hill. The first group
on the left comprises nine
colossal statues of Tirthan-
kars, thirty feet in height,
placed in a niche, with a
wall in front of it pierced
with doors, which conceals
most of them. The heads
of these statues have been
much mutilated by the Mus-
sulmans. Thence you pass
into a small chamber, con-
taining some bas-reliefs and
the figure of a Tirthankar
in a crouching posture A
door in this chamber leads
to a tank, which is exca-
vated in the interior of JAIN EMBLEMS.
the mountain. Following
the paved footpath which surrounds the tank, you come to another chamber,
of larger dimensions, which is entirely occupied by a statue of Adinath, thirty-
five feet high. The idol is encompassed by richly sculptured decorations, and
the cushion on which it is seated bears a long inscription; while a stream
of light falls on its face from a window ornamented with pilasters, placed high
up in the wall. On one side of this room is a long alcove, in which are nine
colossal figures of Tirthankars, standing in a row; and above each statue there
is a canopy of richly sculptured stone. This part of the mountain contains no
less than twelve of these rooms, in each of which one or more colossal statues
is to be found. Most of these are from twenty to thirty feet high; and I
measured one, the face of which was no less than five feet in length. The
heads of some of these statues are encircled with crowns of serpents; others
wear on the top of their mitres the Kalpa Vrish, or tree of science, which
consists of three branches, and deserves attention on account of its resemblance

to the mystic symbol of the Buddhists.

 
324 INDIA.

The excavations on the south-east of Gwalior are even more curious than
those of Ourwhai; but they are very little known, even by the native inhabitants.
The stone and even the paintings are in such a good state of preservation that,
to judge from their appearance, you would not take them to be more than a few
centuries old. This is due to their position, for instead of being simply sculptured
on the face of the rock, each statue is placed in a chamber, which completely
shelters it from rain and wind. It is probable, however, that they were not
constructed before the sixth century, and some of them date only from the
eleventh and twelfth centuries.

Following the crest of the hill for a distance of ten miles, you find at intervals,
for the whole length of the mountain, innumerable bas-reliefs, statues and excava-
tions, the description of which would weary the reader.

From the foregoing descriptions of the wonders of Gwalior it will be seen that
this fortress furnishes one of the most valuable collections of Indian monuments,
since we can here trace all the phases of the Jain and Hindoo architecture, from
the second century before Christ to the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries of
our era.

I cannot quit this subject without addressing a few words‘of thanks to Major
B and the officers of the 103rd Regiment, who, during the whole period of
my stay at Gwalior showed me the most friendly hospitality, and cordially assisted
me in my explorations.

 
CHAPTER XXX.

THE COURT OF SCINDIA.

Origin of the Mahratta Power.—The Cossacks of India.—The Slipper-bearer of the Peishwah.—
Daolut Rao Scindia and the French Officers—General Perron.—The Possessions of Scindia.
-~The Mahratta Camp of Gwalior, its Bazaars and Monuments.—The King displays his
Horsemanship.—An Interview with the Maharajah.—The Durbar and the Nautch Girls.

HE Maharajah Scindia, King of Gwalior, is now the most power-
ful native sovereign of Hindostan, and, with the Guicowar, King
of Baroda, and Holkar of Indore, represents that great’ Mahratta
power which, except for the intervention of the English, would
have restored India to the Hindoos.

: The name of Maha Rachtra (Great Kingdom) is given to

that vast tract of country which lies between the Deccan and Hindostan, bordered

on one side by the Vindhya Mountains and on the other by the Western Ghats,
and which is now divided into the provinces of Kandeish, Poonah, Nagpore,

Aurungabad, Beejapore, &. The territory is intersected by numerous chains of

mountains, which form a network of well-watered and fertile valleys.

The Mahrattas, who inhabit this country, have from the remotest antiquity
been a strong and self-reliant nation. For the most part husbandmen or
shepherds, they were content to remain among their native mountains, and, owing
to their excessive pride and intrepidity, succeeded in retaining the most complete
liberty and independence. The country was divided into states or communes,
which were governed by the patels or mayors of the villages ; and, even when the
war of independence had resulted in a Mahratta monarchy, the sovereigns retained,
as their first title, that of patel; and to this day, in spite of the English dominion,
the Maha Rachtra has preserved its ancient institutions, such as the punchayet,
or elective assembly, and the independence of its communes.

It was about the middle of the seventeenth century that the great Sivaji
Bhousa appeared among these rude and uncultivated peasants ; and the dream of

this great genius was the liberation of the Hindoo people, and the overthrow of
The Maha Rachtra had always resisted the invaders,

Mussulman domination. ders,
and had only nominally recognised the supremacy of the Padishah. Sivaji

commenced his great work at the age of seventeen, and raised himself in a few
years from the rank of a petty chieftain to that of supreme sovereign, and was
recognised as such by the Emperor of Delhi. The religious intolerance of
Aurungzeb, so contrary to the politic lenity of his predecessors, raised the Hindoo
people in revolt, and the incursions of the Mahrattas became a religious crusade.

 
326 INDIA.

The national feeling once roused, the Mahrattas rose as one man, and this nation
of shepherds and peasants became an army which overran the richest provinces of
the empire.

The Mahrattas are born horsemen; and the country abounds with small
horses, which are ugly, but clever, active, and wonderfully sure-footed. It was of
such elements that the national army was composed, consisting of light cavalry,
more adapted for pillage than for open warfare, and all armed with lances; very
few carrying muskets. Their squadrons spread like a cloud over the country they
intended to plunder, advancing immense distances, and disappearing at the
approach of the heavy cuirass-armed cavalry of the Moguls.

General Malcolm has described the organisation of these Indian Cossacks,
against whom he had constantly to fight. Each year at the close of the rainy
season (during which all hostilities cease), the festival of the Dupara was the
signal for the reopening of the campaign. The soldiers from all the neighbouring
villages flocked to the Mahratta standard, when the army started on the march,
with no other provision for the campaign than the food and forage which each
man carried at his saddle-bow. Plunder was therefore necessary to their
existence, but it was carried on in a regular and systematic manner. The booty
taken by the soldiers was all carried to the camp, and divided among them under
the superintendence of the officers. Besides this, each soldier received regular
pay, which was derived from the taxes previously levied upon the towns. Over-
running the richest provinces like a torrent, the army was constantly recruited by
the accession of Hindoo adventurers and malcontents, so that after each successive
defeat it became stronger than it was at the commencement of the campaign.

Like Charlemagne, who wept on beholding the Norman ships on the Seine,
old Aurungzeb, the last of the Great Moguls, foresaw that these bandits would
cause the ruin of the throne of Baber; and he made energetic attempts to put
them down, and succeeded several times in overthrowing them, but never could
completely annihilate this terrible foe. After his death, in order to arrest their
devastations, the indolent Shah Allum relinquished to them the fourth part of the
revenue of those provinces which were exposed to their incursions. From that
day the Mogul empire has virtually ceased to exist.

The Scindias were a powerful Mahratta family of husbandmen, of the Sudra
caste, and of the province of Sattara. The first who carried arms and rescued
their name from obscurity was Ranaji Scindia. About the year 1725 he came to
the Court of Poonah, and obtained the important post of slipper-bearer to the
Peishwah ; and, while there, an accidental misdemeanour proved the cause of his
ultimate good fortune. One day the Peishwah was presiding at a prolonged
Council of State; Ranaji fell asleep in the antechamber; and, after the audience,
the king-minister, in looking for his slippers, found his servant asleep, with the
slippers tightly clutched to his bosom. The Peishwah was so touched by this
proof of fidelity and devotion to his person that he raised Scindia to the highest
functions of the state. Ranaji’s power increased rapidly ; he became one of the
most popular leaders of the Mahratta troops; and on his death he left a vast
kingdom, in the very centre of Malwa, to his son Mahaji.

The sanguinary battle of Paniput, won in 1761 by the Sultan Ahmed,
arrested for a time the progress of the Mahratta power. Mahaji Scindia fell,
wounded by a terrible stroke from an axe, and was left among the dead; until he
THE FRENCH OFFICERS. 327

was found by a bhisti (water-carrier), who conveyed him to the Deccan. On
returning to the court of Poonah, Scindia by degrees got the entire administration
of affairs into his own hands; but, like a true patriot, he employed the power he
thus acquired in the service of the @Peishwah, respecting the institutions of his
country, and rejecting the advances of the English, who recognised him as the
sovereign of Malwa and Doab. He died in 1794, leaving his crown to his
nephew Daolut Rao Scindia, a child of thirteen, who, with remarkable energy,
succeeded in dispersing all his rivals, and in seating himself firmly on his
throne.

Daolut Rao, who was the inveterate enemy of the English, extended his
kingdom as far as the Punjaub, and succeeded in possessing himself of the person
of the Padishah, to whom he assigned a pension. The one idea of this prince
was to replace his undisciplined hordes by a powerful army, capable of competing
with the English ; and his incursions into the Deccan brought him into communi-
cation with some French adventurers, the remnant of Lalley’s army, who had
remained in the country, offering their services to all who were hostile to the
English. Scindia thus attracted to his court De Boigne, Jean Baptiste, Lalley
(the nephew), Perron, and many others; who transformed the Mahratta army
into those well-organised battalions before which the English were frequently
obliged to retreat.

The incessant struggle between Scindia and the English terminated finally to
the advantage of the latter. The disaffection of Perron was a fatal blow to
Daolut Rao; for, although formerly only a sergeant in the French army, he now
acquired a degree of power which placed him almost on a level with his master.
History, from the English point of view, portrays him as an arrogant and pusil-
lanimous upstart; but I must-be permitted to deny this charge, and to say that
Perron’s only fault was that he allowed himself always to be guided by the one
motive of interest; whereas, if he had played his part better, he might, with the
support of the Punjaub, have completely stopped the British invasion. Alarmed
at the advance of the English, and defeated by Lake at Aligurh, Perron accepted
the overtures of Lord Wellesley (Wellington) and retired to Chandernagore with
a considerable fortune; and this mean treachery was a death-blow to that heroic
band of Frenchmen who had caused so much uneasiness to the English.

General Bourquien, a Parisian, tried to carry on the war, but, being defeated.
under the walls of Delhi, he was obliged to surrender himself to the English ;
and finally, at the battle of Laswari (November ist, 1803), Daolut Rao was
completely overpowered, in spite of the prodigious efforts of the French officers,
and obliged to negotiate a peace; the most important clause of the treaty being
that he should dismiss all the Frenchmen, and never employ them again in his
service. The struggle was renewed shortly afterwards, but, once more vanquished,
Scindia consented to a final peace with the East India Company, in 1818, and
agreed to abandon his rights over Delhi and the Padishah, to retire beyond the
Chumbul, and to allow the English to form two camps of occupation within his

territory. ,
Jankhaji, the successor of Daolut Rao, died in 1843, without issue; whereupon

the English were forced to take part in the quarrels which followed respecting
the succession ; and it was not until after the two battles of Punniar and Maharaj-

pore that they succeeded in placing on the throne the nephew of Jankhaji.
328 INDIA.

The territories of Scindia extend from the Chumbul to the Satpoora Mountains,
and the area comprises about 33,000 square miles, including Western Malwa,
a portion of Bundelecund, of Haraouti, and of Omultwara. The population is
estimated by some at four millions, by others-at more than six millions; but the
absence of a regular census renders all such computations somewhat doubtful.

The administration of the country is far superior to that of the other States
of India. This superiority and the able government for the last few years are
due to the first minister, Sir Dinkur Rao, a man of great capacity, to whom the
country was entrusted during the minority of the prince. It was he who prevented
the young maharajah from joining in the revolt of 1857; and thus he not only
preserved Scindia’s independence but also saved the cause of the English; for,
had Scindia chosen, he could have raised the whole of Rajwara, from Bombay to
the Jumna. As a reward for these services, Dinkur Rao was knighted by the
Queen. The English keep up three permanent camps of occupation in Scindia’s
territories—Morar, Jhansi, and Sipri.

The present capital is Gwaliorka Lashkar, or the Camp of Gwalior. When
Madhaji invaded Hindostan, he established his headquarters near Gwalior, in the
kingdom of Johud; and desiring to maintain the Mahratta hordes under his
command in active service, and to prevent them from intermixing with the
conquered people, he formed a permanent camp on this spot, where he himself
lived under canvas among his soldiers. This camp became his capital, whence
he plundered and devastated the surrounding countries, shutting himself up in
his stronghold during the rainy season. Gradually the tents were replaced by
huts, where the soldiers lived, surrounded by their families; bazaars sprang up ;
the king’s tent was transformed into a palace, and the camp became a town.
Although it still bears the name of Lashkar, it is now one of the finest cities of
India, and its population amounts to three hundred thousand.

The dak bungalow of Gwalior, where we alighted, is situated in the plain on
the west, which separates the fortress from the capital. It stands at the foot of
a picturesque range of hills, consecrated to the monkey-god Hunouman, and at
the entrance of the suburb of Satti Ghati (or Broken Mountain), thus named
from the deep cutting which had to be made through the mountain for the road
which unites the faubourg to the town. This suburb consists of the summer
residences of the nobles of Scindia’s Court, and is one of the most charming spots
imaginable. The valley is filled with an abundant vegetation; the orange, the
lemon, and the shaddock trees exhale their intoxicating perfumes, which are
diffused by the damp vapours rising from the numerous tanks: above this forest
of fruit trees rise the perpendicular terraces of the hill, on which are built the
palaces with their long stone verandahs; and here and there a chatri or a small
temple painted in vivid colours, and a few small white houses, enliven the
charming landscape.

Our first care on arriving at Gwalior was to visit the English Agent at
Scindia’s Court, Major Hutchinson, who lives at the pretty English station at
Morar, some miles from the town. Being informed of our arrival by this officer,
his Highness the Maharajah sent us an elephant and a pundit of the Court, who
was instructed to do the honours of the country.

The first few days were devoted to visiting the marvels of ancient Gwalior,
after which the pundit took us to see Lashkar and the palace.
LASHGAR. 308

The town is situated on the banks of the river Sawunrika, which is crossed
by several stone bridges. The first view of it reminds one of Baroda ; it occupies
almost the whole of a small circular valley, surrounded by barren hills, which
lies to the south of the rock on whieh stands the ancient fortress. The suburbs
are dirty, and cut up into narrow, crooked streets; but towards the centre of the
town you come to handsome wide streets, with regular rows of fine stone houses;.
and a noisy crowd throngs the bazaars. At one end of a handsome square,

 

IN THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF SATTI GHATI.

planted with trees, extend the buildings of the palace, the exterior of which is
in no way remarkable. It was built by the present king; and, being a mixture
of Italian and Hindoo architecture (which appears to be the new Anglo-Indian
style of building), I need scarcely say that it is very ugly. The interior of the
palace, however, is arranged with great taste; the apartments are comfortable,
cool, and well ventilated, and open into pretty little English gardens. Some of
the rooms are very richly ornamented, the walls being covered with frescoes and
sculptured cornices, and the doors and windows hung with heavy draperies.
330 INDIA.

During our visit to the palace, the maharajah sent us his compliments, accompanied
by a dali, or basket of European fruits and vegetables, which are rare delicacies
here, and are cultivated with great care in a portion of the royal garden.

The palace is surrounded by the barracks, which are large stone buildings,
very well arranged and scrupulously clean; and a little farther on is the ancient
palace of the Scindias, a vast group of buildings in the style of Digh.

From here we went to the Royal Necropolis, where repose the ashes of the
first Scindias. The mausoleums are constructed on the plan of the Hindoo
temples; and the sanctuary is surmounted by a graceful pavilion, crowned with
a dome with a thousand pinnacles of great beauty, above which rises a lofty spire.
One is astonished to find such remarkable originality in monuments of so recent a
date. They are built of a very hard grey sandstone, which takes such a high polish
that unless closely examined it has all the appearance of marble.

Before leaving the town we went in search of a certain banker, Lall Govind
by name, on whom the Bank of Agra had furnished us with a bill of exchange,
that is to say, a howndi, a common little square piece of paper, covered with
illegible Nagari characters. We succeeded with some difficulty in finding his
abode, in one of the most dismal streets of Lashkar, where, in a greasy little stall,
Lall was occupied in selling oil. He was a venerable but dirty Banian, of the
Jain caste; and on our presenting the paper he quickly disappeared to the back
of his shop, whence he returned in a few minutes with the due sum.

The institution of the system of bills of exchange in India dates back to a
remote period, and we can easily understand the advantage of it when one sees
how dangerous it is, even in the present day, to carry money about one’s person.
‘The houndi is simply a letter, commencing with an invocation to the god Ganesa,
and mentioning the manner and date of payment. It bears no stamp or legal
mark of any kind, but its authenticity is guaranteed by certain signs, which are
adopted by the bankers, and known only to themselves. These transactions are
perfectly safe; and the proof of it is that Europeans accept these houndis without
the smallest hesitation, although they do not understand a word of them, and
although they are often issued by disreputable-looking merchants upon correspon-
dents at a distance of several hundreds of miles,

The Court of Gwalior does not offer the same attractions to the traveller as
those of Baroda and Oudeypoor. Politics and the reorganisation of his country
occupy the time and thoughts of the prince far more than hunting and festivities ;
and certainly I should be the last to blame him therefor. He lives with com-
parative simplicity, which to us, however, appears gorgeously magnificent. One
is somewhat disappointed at the absence of pomp and display on coming from
Oudeypoor and Jeypore.

On the 25th of January Major Huchinson informed us that the maharajah

- would receive us in durbar on the following day. On our way to the palace at
the appointed hour, we found the streets thronged with immense crowds, and
sowaris of horsemen and elephants were making their way towards the durbar.
The cause of all this array was the appproaching departure of the Agent, who
here enjoys the esteem of all, and to whom the nobles wished to pay their respects
at this last interview with the king. The choubdars of the palace received us on
the grand staircase, and conducted us to the audience-chamber, where we found
Major Hutchinson and several English officers of rank.
INTERVIEW WITH THE MAHARAGYAH SCINDIA. 331

From a baleony we witnessed a display of the maharajah’s skill in horseman-
ship. Mounted on a magnificent stallion of Iman, he went through all the
evolutions of the high school of India. This royal tilt presented a striking scene.
The king, perfectly at his ease, managed his steed with all the ardour and spirit of
the Mahrattas; the animal reared, plunged, started off precipitately, stopped short,
pranced and jumped at his master’s will. Horse and rider were equipped with
equal magnificence, the rich silken stuffs sparkling with a profusion of gold,
precious stones, and feathers; and the pages and attendants in the royal livery,
standing in picturesque groups at the extremities of the arena, completed the
picture. The last dexterous feat was greeted with a general “Wah! Maharaj!”
and the prince dismounted.

Passing through the hall of the durbar, he took his seat on the gold and
silver throne; while a less elevated throne on his right hand was occupied by
the heir-presumptive, his adopted son, who fills the place of the two sons he has
lost. A long row of sofas for the accommodation of nobles and dignitaries of the
Court lined the hall on either side.

Major Hutchinson presented us to his Highness, who rose, and, after shaking
hands, conversed with us for a few moments.

The Maharajah Syaji Scindia is a man of a remarkable physiognomy. At first
sight one is struck by the furrowed brow, the hard mouth, and the wild and
melancholy expression which pervades the whole countenance; but the features
are full of a royal and imposing dignity, and express much sympathy and
feeling. :

He was only thirty-three years of age, but appeared much older. He was
afflicted with an impediment in his speech, which made him so nervous before
strangers that he could scarcely articulate a sound. It is difficult to say whether
this stammering was most painful to the prince or to those present, for under
these circumstances it is often difficult to keep one’s countenance.

In order to save the king the necessity of having to talk much, they have
introduced the custom at Gwalior of having nautch-girls at one end of the audience-
chamber, who sing incessantly during the durbar. The presence of these charming
nautch-girls, with their fine eyes and brilliant costumes, greatly enlivens this
monotonous ceremony; but the incessant chorus of shrill voices somewhat hinders
one from following the disjointed conversation of the king.

The ceremony of wtterpan, which always takes place at the close of the
durbars, is here performed with great solemnity. Each one present receives a
muslin handkerchief, which he places on the palm of his right hand; the maha-
rajah then rises and, going up to each European in turn, pours some attar of
roses on his handkerchief, and presents him with betel leaves, areca-nuts, and
cardamoms, at the same time throwing a garland of jasmine round his neck. One
of the ministers goes through the same ceremonies with the natives. The
Europeans then pass one by one before the throne, and, shaking hands with the
king and the heir-presumptive, leave the apartment, escorted by the choubdars
and the nautch-girls.

On taking leave of me Major Hutchinson gave me the khureetas, or letters of
introduction to the Rajah of Duttiah and the Souba of Jhansi; and he informed
me that the maharajah had placed an escort at our disposal, which was to
accompany us through Bundelcund. Accordingly, on returning to the bungalow,
332 INDIA..
I found a vakil awaiting me with the promised escort. The sowars had already
pitched their tents; the bivouac fires were burning; the horses were picketed,
and the lances and muskets piled; at a little distance eight strong camels and
two fine dromedaries were ruminating lazily; and a hulkara, two saniwallahs, and
several camel-drivers completed the group.

The vakil presented these our future attendants to us; and, after reading
out the orders of the maharajah, he took leave of us, bearing our salaams to his
master.

ce
PR P nae enin

 

OUR GWALIOR ESCORT.
CHAPTER XXXI.

STATE OF DUTTIAH.

Bundeleund.—Hurdeo Sing and Boundi,—The Slave Boundelas.—Duttiah.—Palace of Birsing
Deo.—The Death of a Camel.—Interview with the Rao Maharajah of Duttiah.—The
Rope-Dancers,—The Holy Mountain of Sounaghur.—The Fakir of the Holy Flower..

| ANUARY 28TH—We left the Gwalior bungalow during the
#). night, and by sunrise we were climbing the rocky slopes of the
Narwar Ghats. The rocks were composed of circular groups,
divided by small ravines, or else ran beside the banks of
‘streams fringed with the tamarisk. The air was pure and very
bracing, and the groves resounded with the shrill call-of the
jungle-cock. Our caravan wound its way, serpent-like, up the road; Schaumburg and
myself, perched upon our tall dromedaries with their elegant harness and their
silken saddle-cloths, leading the way.. Around us was the vanguard of our sowars,
forming a collection of typical characters that would have gladdened the heart of a
painter of Oriental life. All more or less in rags, for the new clothing had been left
behind in the town, they were mounted upon small but very fiery horses, a’ sort of
cushion tightly girthed up being used in place of the saddle, and the bit being a
very strong one. Each sowar receives from the State a gun, which is neither
more nor less than a fowling-piece of Indian construction, though it is not to be
despised, for it carries a great distance, and shoots very true. Some of them
carry a long lance or javelin, in addition to this weapon; and others use a pistol,
while they all have several daggars, katars, and the bent tulwar. They vary as
much in type as they do in accoutrement, being composed of Rajpoots, Deccanis,
and Pathans; but they are all alike brave, light-hearted, fond of travel, and still
more of pillage, and always ready to execute their orders. Next came the main
body of the caravan, the horses being led by hand; and the camels bearing
regular mountains of boxes, on the top of which are the most heterogeneous
ebjects, such as fowls, monkeys, parrots, or even young nautchnis, which are
following the march. Forming the wings of the caravan marched the oontwallahs
(men who tend the camels), the servants and the syces; and behind these a few
sowars form the rear-guard. The whole of this motley assemblage passed the
time in singing and calling out to one another. Most of them smoked, and they
all inhaled with delight the pure air of the jungle, which is so beneficial to the
Indian. Take a man whom in the city you will find discontented and anxious to
shirk the least labour, and transport him to the jungle; he will become jovial and
not afraid of hard work. The same men who seemed to be always conspiring

 
334 INDIA.

against your interests suddenly become devoted to you. Ifa danger should arise,
or the peasant endeavour to cheat you, they will take your part with an astonish-
ing degree of zeal. The explanation of this sudden change lies in the fact that,
in addition to the influence of the jungle, the European when on the march lives
amongst his men, and, as he thus gets to know them and they him, he treats them
with greater kindness, and takes an interest in what they do. The Indian is
easily reached by kindness, which gets him to do what neither blows nor threats
would have accomplished. Moreover, the native who is in the service of a
European considers himself degraded in the eyes of his fellows to a certain extent ;
but the feeling passes away in the jungle, where he becomes the representative of
the sahib. He looks upon himself as almost a European, and the attention paid
to his orders by the peasants and even the traders flatters his self-esteem. Towards
eight o’clock we got out of the defile, near the pretty little town of Antri, which
extends to the beginning of extensive plains, studded with solitary rocks; and we
passed through numerous villages, which bore a very flourishing aspect; amongst
others Simouria, which is picturesquely built stage upon stage on the side of a
fortified rock. At ten o’clock we reached a small bungalow in ruins, about a
gunshot from the village of Dalva. Near this village runs the river Scinde,
which separates the states of Scindia and Bundelcund.

Bundelcund, or the Boundelas country, is all the mountainous region between
the Vindhya tableland and the Jumna, from the river Scinde in the west to the
Tonsa in the east. This country is very hilly, the ramifications of the Vindhyas
covering it with small chains of mountains, between which are narrow valleys
intersected by rivers, all of which fall into the Jumna. The principal of these
streams are the Betwah, Dhesan, and Cane. The northern part contains some
well-cultivated plains, thickly populated; but the rest of the country is an
immense and almost virgin forest, in which only a few rare spots have been
cleared. The Bundelcund forests are the finest in India. Growing on a soil high
above the sea-level, well watered, and close to the tropics, they contain at once
the richest products of the North and the South: the mhowah, the bur, the
catechu, and other gum-trees; from which the native inhabitants extract many
useful products.

Bundelcund has not, however, always been what it now is. The numerous
works of art which are to be found there, the vast dykes, the ruins of great cities,
show that it must have been inhabited by an industrious and civilised people, and
that long before our era.

In the third century B.c. it formed part of the Empire of Bindousara, and was
for a long time bound up with the destinies of Magadha. Under the name of
Jaujavati, it was a powerful kingdom, the prosperity of which is recorded by the
Chinese historian Hiouen-Thsang, who travelled through it in the seventh century.
A century later the Rajpoot tribes of the Chandala clan invaded it, and estab-
lished themselves at Mahoba; and they in turn were overthrown in the tenth
century by the Chohans of Delhi, a little before the Mussulman invasion. Since
then this country has ceased to have a political existence. It became the refuge
of all the princes dispossessed by the Tartars, and was split up into countless prin-
cipalities governed by small bandit chiefs who, living only on pillage, plunged the
country into ruin.

In the fourteenth century, Hurdeo Sing, a Rajpoot prince of the Garhwa
BUNDELCUND. 335

tribe, having espoused a Boundi slave, was expelled from the Kshatriya caste.
He left the Rajpoots and came to reside at the Court of a small sovereign of
Central India. Some years after his arrival, the king’s son fell in love with his
daughter, and asked for her hand. Hurdeo gave his consent on the condition that
the king and his nobles would be present at the marriage banquet prepared by the
Boundi’s own hand; thus forfeiting, as he had himself done, the right to the rank
of Kshatriya. Out of affection for his son, the aged king surmounted his scruples,
and on the appointed day all the Court was seated round Hurdeo’s table; at
which opium was mixed in the drinks handed round to the guests, who, being
thereby rendered incapable of resistance, were despatched by assassins whom
Hurdeo had hired. Having thus got rid of the royal family, the Garhwa gained
possession of the throne, and soon afterwards made himself master of the whole
country. His sons and the numerous adherents that he enlisted in his cause then
formed a new clan known as the Boundélas, or sons of the slave, and so gave the
country its present name of Boundélakund or Bundelcund.

The Boundélas still lay claim to the title of Rajpoots, but the other tribes of
Rajesthan refuse to recognise them as such, and, looking upon them as outcasts,
will have no dealings with them. Gifted with all the physical qualities of the
Rajpoot race, they have only preserved the moral quality of courage. They are
treacherous and cruel, and “ false as a Boundéla” has become a Rajpoot proverb.

All the Bundeleund races, indeed, are of the same impure blood, from the
Hindoo point of view. These savage countries were at one period the refuge
of criminals, of persons expelled from their caste, of brigands and political exiles,
who, intermixing with the aboriginal races, founded new castes which were abomi-
nated by the Hindoos. Thus the Bundelcund Brahmin eats goat’s flesh and
mutton, and drinks strong liquors. In fact, he is Brahmin only in name. More-
over, Bundelcund still continues to be the classic land of brigandism ; and in its
sombre forests was born the terrible religion of the Thugs. Upon its high table-
lands the forces of the formidable insurgents fought the English troops in 1858,
and there Nana Sahib took refuge after the massacres of Cawnpore. ‘There, too,
flourished some years ago the Dacoits, a sect of highway robbers and assassins.
Nor is there any present sign that the country is likely to emerge from the state
of barbarism.which keeps it, so to speak, isolated from the rest of India. No
important route runs through it, and no railway has yet been constructed. With
the exception of a few unimportant points, it is entirely under the government of
the rajahs. It is one of the least known parts of India; the evil reputation of
the inhabitants, and the generally accepted opinion that it contains no monuments
of interest, having hitherto kept travellers away.

January 29th.—In the course of the morning we crossed the Scinde, which
here forms the frontier of the kingdom of Duttiah. It is an important river, more
than half a mile broad, and the banks very high; with a current so swift that it is
difficult to ferry across; and upon the opposite bank extends a large and slightly
undulating plain. About ten o’clock, we came upon a road winding through
splendid forests, which concealed from our view the heights of Duttiah ; and from
time to time we perceive watching-places on the sides of the precipices—a fact
which shows that these valleys abound with game. Passing over a very uneven
peak, we suddenly saw at our feet the capital, picturesquely situated amidst a
belt of lakes and forests. Its appearance was very charming. Above its low
sib INDIA.
houses, with their roofs of red tiles, rose the steeples of innumerable temples, and,
standing out above them all, were two enormous square buildings crowned with
domes and clock-towers; which, as our men informed us, were the royal palaces.

The guards stopped our advance when we reached the gates of the city, and
their captain came out, requesting us, with many indications of respect, to await
the arrival of the Vukeel; who soon put in an appearance and told us that the
rajah, informed by the Gwalior Agent of our coming, had prepared a residence for
us outside the city. Conducted by the Vukeel, we skirted the walls, and soon
reached a pretty little bungalow, picturesquely situated at the edge of a large
road, and on the banks of a jheel. The verandah commanded a fine view ; and by
the banks of the water a few tombs, together with groups of date-trees, formed
a beautiful perspective. Upon the other side of the lake was the antique palace
of Birsing Deo, crowning a slight eminence covered with houses and gardens; and
a little farther extended a quay planted with trees, with rows of handsome villas
on each side, and running straight to a line of hills; from the lake to the edge of
the forest, the rice plant formed a carpet. of emerald green. The bungalow con-
tained several comfortable rooms, and our escort found shade and coolness beneath
the neighbouring trees. In the course of the evening I received the envoys of
the rajah, who, with many salaams, presented us the traditional dalis.

The State of Duttiah is one of the most important of the Bundelcund princi-
palities. Detached about a century since from the territory of Oorcha, it is now
under the protection of England, to whom it pays a small annual subsidy. It
has a superficies of about 850 square miles, and a population of about 200,000,

Janwary 30th.—The rajah sent us, early in the morning, one of his equipages
and a kamdar, assigned to do us the honours of the capital.

The town is surrounded by a thick wall, thirty-seven feet high, built upon
the rock, without ditch or glacis, and strengthened at intervals by round towers
built into it; and access to the city is gained by several fortified gates, each of
which has its guard-house. The first noticeable point, on entering the town, is its
extreme cleanliness; the winding streets are macadamised, and each has its run-
ning stream ; the houses are lined with brick, and have small stone steps leading to
them ; and the inhabitants themselves are decently clad.

The temples are very numerous, and have a style of their own. They con-
sist, for the most part, of a square chapel surmounted by a high steeple, some-
times conical, sometimes pyramid-shaped, flanked by four clock-towers. The
walls are wholly unornamented; and a couple of columns support a small gable,
which protects the entrance. The interior presents the same aspect of simplicity;
the walls are painted, and there are the altar and the lingam of Iswara. The
steeples have large metal discs or gilded tridents on the summit. To the west of
the city stands the palace of Birsing Deo, one of the most remarkable specimens
of Boundéla architecture. It is a square mass, each side of which is over 300
feet long, and it is nearly 100 feet hich, the pinnacle of the central dome being
150 feet above the level of the terrace. The facade, four storeys high, has mag-
nificent balconies of carved stone, in the centre of which is an ogive portico,
surmounted by an elegant loggia; while five other domes crown the summit. The
whole building is of granite, and is constructed upon a vaulted terrace, the arches
of which are 40 feet high. The apartments in the two first storeys are very dark,
as the only light they receive is from the windows of the front, and they have
DEATH OF A CAMEL. 337

no courtyard. They are immense rooms, the arched roofs of which are supported
by numerous pillars, and contain many curious frescoes. The third and fourth
storeys run round a courtyard or terrace. On a level with the second storey, in
the middle of this courtyard, rises a square tower divided into four storeys, which
supports the central dome. This tower contained the royal apartments, in which
may still be seen the remains of paintings and mosaics.

Everything about this palace is sombre and massive; and one can easily
discern the traces of the great genius of King Birsing Deo, and of the notorious
Boundéla, whose name has become legendary. Its enormous proportions render
it unfit for habitation ; the small Court of Duttiah, indeed, would be lost in this
immense labyrinth ; and thus it is abandoned to the bats and the owls.

Thence we proceeded to the citadel, which stands in the centre of the town.
It is surrounded by thick ramparts with large round towers, and is now utilised
as the palace of the queen, which consists of a group of graceful pavilions,
encompassed by flower-beds; and at the foot of the walls is the Tope Khana, the
arsenal of Duttiah, containing some old cannons and a number of antique weapons.
The kamdar next took us to the new college founded by the present sovereign,
which is attended by a hundred non-resident scholars, who are taught, in addition
to the ordinary course, Persian, Ourdoo, and English. The professors belong to
the Benares University. The college is well conducted; and the discipline is
excellent.

On our way we passed the palace now used, situate upon an eminence in the
south of the city. It is a large and many-storeyed edifice ; the lower part being
in the Boundéla style of architecture, and the upper in the Anglo-Italian, the
combined effect of which is not good. .

Outside the town the kamdar pointed out the numerous boats which were
fishing upon the lakes. These small sheets of water abound with fish and turtle.
But the chief product of these jheels is an aquatic plant of the lotus species, the
root of which forms a sort of radish, good for food. It grows in water of
middling depth, and shoots its stems up to the surface, and is detached with an
iron rake. The boats used on these lakes are merely trunks of trees, hollowed
out and squared, and propelled with double paddles.

Bad news awaited us at our bungalow. One of our strongest camels had
died suddenly, from eating fodder which was too fresh; and the loss was all the
more provoking as it was one of the animals lent us by the Maharajah Scindia.
My men soon attached a rope to the carcase, and had it dragged by the other
camels to a certain distance from the camp; whence, in about a quarter of an
hour afterwards, we heard loud cries proceeding; and, on coming out of the
bungalow to see what this meant, I saw a group of men, nearly naked, their arms
covered with blood, dancing and shrieking like wild beasts around the dead
camel; while others, armed with knives, were cutting long strips of flesh out of
the carcase and plunging their arms into the breast to tear out the heait and liver.
It was a revolting sight to witness, the delight of these poor pariahs, Chumars or
Bungheeas, at having so splendid a prey ;—meat for these poor creatures, devoured
by hunger, to whom Hindoo society denies the right common to every human
being of enjoying the aliments of the earth, whom it places lower in the social
scale than animals, and whose life is not worth a rupee! Disgust gave place to

pity, however, at the sight of these mild and inoffensive beings, always hard at
x
228 INDIA.

ore)

work, and compelled by a merciless society to obtain their food from the most
repulsive of wild beasts. The mother was there with her children, waiting till
her husband had posséssed himself of a piece of flesh, which would be to them
luxury and plenty. Darkness set in, and then the pariahs were followed by
hyenas and jackals, whose hideous cries all night long resounded through the
woods; and in the morning nothing was left but a bloody skeleton, which gaunt
dogs were trying to tear away from the crows and vultures.

January 31st.—In the course of the day the kamdar came to tell us that the
maharajah expected us at a durbar. A carriage deposited us at the foot of a steep
incline, leading to the palace situated at the summit. The ascent was laborious, but
from the top we obtained a magnificent panorama of the city and its encircling
hills. We were received in the first courtyard of the palace by the vukeel, who
conducted us through a labyrinth of passages into the room where the durbar was
to be held. This room forms one of the upper terraces of the palace; a gallery
runs round it; and the ceiling is painted red and blue. The prince received us at
the door of this room, and conducted us to three chairs placed at the end of the ter-
race, and, insisting upon my taking the centre chair, placed himself at my right, while
the courtiers seated themselves upon cushions ranged in order beneath the galleries.

The Rao Maharajah, Bhuwani Sing, is a young man of two-and-twenty, of a
good height, with sharp and aristocratic features, and wears a large black beard.
He was costumed in the long brocaded tunic and light turban of the Boundélas.
Coming to the throne at the age of thirteen, he was placed beneath the tutelary
care of an English regent during his minority. His conversation gave evidence of
his having received an English education, and he expressed himself very sensibly
upon political subjects, speaking freely of European affairs, more particularly of
France. He told me that I was the first Frenchman who had paid him a visit,
and he assured me that my compatriots would always be welcome at Duttiah; and
he promised to give us a féte and to get up a shooting-party before we left. The
servants handed round the utterpén, and our audience then terminated.

Upon the following day we were present at a nautch, given at the palace in our
honour. The national dances were executed by pretty Boundéla girls, dressed in
graceful costumes; and they were accompanied by popular refrains, some of which |
are very singular. To the nautch girls succeeded jugglers, who amused us for
more than an hour with the most astonishing feats. One of them took a large
top, which, after having set it spinning very rapidly, he placed at the end of a
stick, which he balanced on his forehead; and the top then stopped or continued
revolving at the word of command. The jugglers also placed a child in a wicker
basket, which they pierced with swords and pikes, the blood streaming out at each
blow ; yet the child, it is hardly necessary to say, came out without a mark upon
it. After the jugglers came the acrobats, the most remarkable of whose per-
formances was the dance on a loose rope. The performer, with naked feet, walked
upon this rope, carrying in his hand a balancing-pole, and upon his head a lot of
earthenware jars. Having got to the middle of the rope, he caused it to swing
rapidly to and fro, and balanced himself by accommodating the agitation of his
body to that of the rope, his head meanwhile remaining motionless. Another
acrobat walked along the rope with buffalo horns tied perpendicularly to his feet.
Surprising indeed is the skill they exhibit.

In the evening the rajah gave us a banquet in our bungalow.
*

SOUNAGAHUR. 339

- About six miles to the north-west of Duttiah is the mountain of Sounaghur
(the Golden Mountain), one of the most famous places of pilgrimage for the Jains
of Central India; and at the maharajah’s advice we determined to spend a couple
of days in exploring it and taking a sgpies of views.

THE GOLDEN MOUNTAIN OF SOUNAGHUR.

 

On emerging from the forests which girdle the town, we entered a vast and
fertile plain, broken by a small chain of hills about 150 feet high. These hills
form pyramids of enormous blocks of granite, which, having been separated by the
a INDIA.
action of the water, are now grouped in picturesque disorder. Some of the blocks
are conical and of considerable length, and stand upright like Druidical monuments ;
and the inhabitants, who worship them as natural lingams, smear them over with
oil and red ochre. In some cases.the blocks, massed one against the other, have
fissures which run right through them all and form narrow conduits for the water.
The last of these hills is Sounaghur, which, on the first view, presents quite a fairy
appearance. A pretty village, half-hidden in trees, runs round the base of the rock,
which rises like a pyramid, its summit covered by the domes and gables of innumer-
able temples; and on entering it the traveller sees the front of a large building
constructed for the pilgrims, in one of the galleries of which we found comfortable
lodgings. The village is but small, consisting of a few solitary bazaars and large
convents, surrounded by high walls and inhabited by Jain monks; but in summer
it is the centre of an important fair, at which pilgrims from the most distant
parts of Rajpootana and Behar meet.

At the end of the principal street is a large portico, which marks the entrance
to the holy mountain, and beyond which is a well-kept path, cut out of the granite,
and bordered on either side by temples, leading to the summit. These temples,
over eighty in number, cover nearly the whole plateau and the eastern slope of the
hill. They are built of brick, and the walls are covered with a plaster made out
of shells, which is almost as smooth and hard as marble. Most of them date from
the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, though a few of them are three centuries
older. There is a great variety of shape and style; some are chapels, with altars
upon which are placed statues in marble or green serpentine; others are large
buildings, with rooms for the ministering priests. In regard to style there is the
modern Jain, the Roman, the Gothic, and the Saracen; and one might almost
fancy that each architect had attempted something of his own, quite different from
that of his brethren. The body of the edifice generally stands on a terrace ; and it is
surmounted by one or more steeples, which are circled by a row of gables, chatris,
and bell-towers. One of these temples is singularly like a Muscovite place of
worship ; but, on careful inspection, it is clear that the architect had only made
use of the Indian style of architecture, and the resemblance must be a mere matter
of chance. Beside this temple is a strange building, consisting of four terraces
built one upon the other so as to form a cone thirty feet in height, and terminating
in a small chapel.

Apart from the interest which this curious group of monuments must
necessarily inspire, Sounaghur has a very striking attraction for the traveller.
These numerous temples are piled one upon another amidst blocks of granite the
colossal dimensions of which produce a very grand effect, and which, hanging
suspended as it were above the temples, seem as if they were about to fall and
crush them. There is not a tree or a trace of vegetation to break the solitary
grandeur of the landscape.

Among the curiosities of Sounaghur I must not omit to mention a fakir whom
I saw at the door of the house one day, for he was the most hideous illustration
of Hindoo fanaticism that can possibly be imagined. He was a goussain, or
religious beggar. Upon his face, half hidden by a rough and unkempt beard,
was tattooed in red the trident of Neptune; his hair, tied in a knot, was rolled
above his head, forming a sort of pointed mitre; and his body, which was very
lean and quite naked, was besmeared with ashes. But the most revolting thing
é

FAKIRS. 341

about him was his left arm, which, withered and quite stiff, stood out perpendi-
cularly from the shoulder. Through the closed hand, bound round with strips
of linen, the nails had worked their way, and were growing out upon the other
side; and the hollow of this hand, whieh had been filled with earth, served as a
flower-pot for a small myrtle-bush. The outstretched and stiffened arm, indeed,
made this wretched being look like a prophet of evil.

Fakirs are by no means rare in India; but this practice obtains more
especially among the goussains. In order to obtain this result, the patient has
to be tied down to a seat, and his arm, extended upwards, is fastened to a

 

JAIN TEMPLES AT SOUNAGHUR,.

cross-bar. After a certain time, during which he undergoes terrible torture,
the arm withers, anchylosis ensues, and it thus becomes rigid. T need scarcely
say that this is an act of martyrdom which the people look upon with great vene-
ration, and that the holy man becomes to them an incarnation of the Deity.

On our return to Duttiah, the rajah entertained us for several days. We
assisted at a battue, at which an immense quantity of game was killed ; amongst
other animals a magnificent specimen of the blue bull—the nilghau, which is here
called roze ; and on the 6th of February we took leave of him, enchanted with our
reception at this little Boundéla Court.
CHAPTER XXXII.
THE PROVINCE OF HANSI.

Jhansi.i—The Ranee and Tantia Topii—The Bear-Keepers—The Betwa.—Barwa.—The Aérial
Camp.—Birsing Lake and Dyke.—A Night-Watch.

“N the 7th of February we left Duttiah, in a carriage which the
maharajah had provided to take us to Jhansi, which is sixteen
miles distant.

The English have made an excellent road between the two
towns, which passes through a rich and slightly undulating
plain; and the country contains beautiful sal forests. The
trunk of the sal-tree is very knotted and rough, and its foliage particularly
luxuriant. The leaves, very soft to the touch, are of a greenish-blue tint, and
from the flowers which hang in bunches from them is extracted a beautiful red
dye. The underwood, dense and tangled, and containing an abundance of wild
fruits, is very rich in fauna; and the nilghau and the stag are always to be found
in the glades, while the thiekets teem with wild boars.

On emerging from these woods we found the country arid and monotonous ;
the stony soil seeming not to be worth cultivation, and the vast masses of granite
heaped together all around reminding one of tumuli. Vegetation is confined to
the deep ravines, where the small huts of the gawms (villages) are almost hidden
by a curtain of greenery.

We forded the small river Pahouj, near which point the English are building
a bridge for their military road—an operation necessitated by the frequent floods.
On the opposite bank of the Pahouj the flinty ground produces nothing but rough
grasses, from which we raised great flights of quails. A little farther the road
skirts a somewhat lofty peak, and comes out in the valley of Jhansi; where we
found our camp installed around the d&k bungalow of the cantonments. Jhansi
was formerly the capital of a small principality, taken during the last century
from the kingdom of Oorcha. Its excellent climate and favourable position
caused the English to select it for the sight of a permanent camp, and for the
centre of their protectorate over Bundelcund. This proximity, however, advan-
tageous as it was in many ways for her capital, did not suit the Ranee, who was
a woman of great beauty and courage, and who occupied the throne of Jhansi at
the commencement of the rebellion of 1857. At the news of the outbreak at
Cawnpore and Lucknow she thought that the time had arrived for shaking off the
yoke, and, the first to raise the standard of revolt in Bundelcund, she had all the
Europeans of Jhansi put to death. She then assembled a small army, and, putting

 
YHANSI. 54

herself at its head, enlisted under the banner of Tantia Topi. She became his
most trusted adviser and friend; and after the fall of Delhi, Cawnpore, and Luck-
now, Tantia Topi began his famous retreat through Bundelcund, where he gave
much trouble to the British forces fog several months. But the besieging circle
gradually closed around him, and Tantia Topi, with a handful of devoted followers,
was compelled to hide himself in the solitudes of the Vindhyas. The Ranee of
Jhansi, however, never abandoned him. In one of the last engagements she
charged in the front rank, and her body was afterwards found on the field of
battle, covered with wounds, while her features preserved their fierce and un-
yielding energy even in death. While she thus met her fate, Sir Hugh Rose was
besieging Jhansi. The fortress, after having been bombarded, was evacuated by
the rebels, who took refuge during the night on a neighbouring hill, which was
itself a natural fortress of great strength. After a severe struggle the English
gained possession of the only path leading to the summit, and drove the whole
garrison over the precipice on the other side; since which the precipice has been
known by the name of Retribution Hill.

The English have made Jhansi the most important military station in Bundel-
.cund, The garrison comprises one European regiment and two of sepoys, besides
artillery and cavalry ; and the cantonments destroyed by the rebels in 1857 have
been rebuilt on a larger scale. The town and the province are under the direct
sway of a Sowbah or Mahratta governor; to whom the Political Agent at Gwalior
had given us a letter from the king. The Soubah, on hearing of our arrival, called
upon us at the bungalow, bringing with him an elephant for our service during
our visit ; and he gave us all the information possible about the objects of interest
in his province, recommending us more especially to go and see Oorcha, the
ancient Boundéla capital, the ruins of which are a few miles south of Jhansi.

To the north of the cantonments a small range of hillocks, together with the
rock of the citadel, completely masks the town; and in front of these heights
extends the picturesque necropolis of the Rajahs of Jhansi. Seen from the
distance, the numerous mausoleums, standing side by side in a double line, seem
to make up a very imposing monument, which is crowned by numerous spires
and turrets; but, on nearer view, they resolve themselves into a multitude of
small chapels, the style of which is not to be compared with that of the Maha
Sati at Ahar ; but they are, nevertheless, the most important monuments in Jhansi.

On the other side of the heights is the Hindoo town, enclosed by walls and
stretching to a plain, interspersed with gardens ; protected on the one hand by
the rock on the summit of which stands the citadel of Birsing, and on the other
skirting a beautiful lake, bordered by large trees and masses of granite.

The present town dates only from the seventeenth century, though it was
built by Birsing Deo upon the ruins of the ancient city of Chandéla. There is
no trace of any building belonging to the latter city ; but its large bazaars, lined
with handsome houses, are by no means uninteresting. There is a large trade in
native goods, especially in Chandéla muslins ; which, made in the Betwa provinces
out of the famous Nurma cotton, are much esteemed in India, and sell for a high
price. They are so light that a whole dress can be rolled into a parcel no larger
than an apple. Blue cotton stuffs from the valley of the Dessaun are also sold at
Jhansi, and highly esteemed. The inhabitants, who appear to be active and
laborious, are principally Boundélas, and number about forty thousand.
344 INDIA.

The citadel, viewed from without, looks as formidable as ever, for the bombard-
ment of 1858 did not injure the enormous donjons of Birsing Deo; but the
interior ig a mere mass of ruins, of dilapidated buildings and crumbling walls.
This is all that remains of the ancient palace. Nature alone has outlived the
catastrophe, and the magnificent shrubs in the gardens of the Ranee continue to
wave over the ruins and the choked-up fountains.

We had intended to continue our journey on the gth, but the cook had left us
without warning to take a situation in Jhansi; and, trifling as such a matter may
seem, it threw us quite out of our calculations. We could not find a substitute
the same day, and we could not do without one, as none of the other servants
would take his place. Chance, however, threw one in our way the day after, and
thus we replaced the unfaithful Babourji. During this delay I had the opportunity
of seeing that Jhansi provides little amusement for the Europeans; the place, in
fact, may be characterised as dull. The pleasant walks are all very distant from
the town, and the only mode of killing time when duty is over is remaining at the
mess or paying visits. While I was here, there was an exhibition of bears by men
who were on their way from the Himalayas down to the Deccan. These men were
encamped near our bungalow, and, as I was their neighbour, they did me the honour
of a tamasha. The Himalaya bears are smaller than our common bears; their
coats are very long, and of a rich black shade, and their elongated muzzles are
very like pigs’ snouts. The Hindoos take them very young, put rings in their
noses, and pull out their biggest teeth; after which the wretched animals become
very docile; but, as they get older, they fall-a prey to a depression which soon
kills them. They are made to dance the same dance which seems special to bears
all over the world; but the most curious part of the entertainment is the pretended
fight which takes place after the dance between the bear and his keeper. After
receiving a blow of more than ordinary severity, the animal seems to lose all
patience, and, rushing at his keeper, enfolds him in his terrible embrace. Man
and beast roll over together, uttering loud cries and moans; but, at a sign from
the keeper, the bear releases him, and resumes his former position. This little
drama is always very effective when seen for the first time; and it may be added
that, in spite of the buffalo-hide which the keeper wears, and the submissiveness
of the bear, the latter sometimes takes the matter aw s¢rieux, and squeezes him to
death before the spectators have time to interfere.

Our caravan left the bungalow at Jhansi on the roth, at four o’clock; and,
preceding it to the village of Barwa, we galloped across the arid plain in the
company of two sowars, our horses’ hoofs rattling over the granite soil, which is
covered at intervals with large blocks of stone; and the dreary landscape only
broken by a few clusters of acacias or thorn-bushes on the banks of the nullahs.
An hour’s riding brought us in sight of the famous Betwa, and from an elevation
we looked down upon its limpid waters leaping between a chaos of rocks sixty feet
below us. The stream, which is nearly 2000 feet broad, is shut in by high and
steep banks; and at this season of the year the waters were very shallow and the
current scarcely perceptible. We forded it just as the sun was sinking beneath
the heights of Jhansi; and the deep blue water, flowing amidst the granite boul-
ders, looked as if it were covered with iris-tinted blocks of ice, while the opposite
bank seemed to be radiant with fire: and over this delicious landscape reigned
the most complete stillness, broken only by the clatter of our horses’ hoofs.
AN AERIAL CAMP. 345

The Betwa is the most important river in Bundelcund. It has its source near
Bhopal, and it runs into the Jumna, not far from Humeerpoor, after a course of
360 miles. The inhabitants of Central India look upon it as their sacred stream,
and from Oorcha to Raici its waters gre very pure, and excellent to drink.

On the opposite bank the scenery improved at once, and the soil, irrigated by
the outfall from the Barwa Lake, was richly cultivated, while the villages were
buried in the foliage of the mango-trees.

We passed in front of a handsome temple, with a high sculptured tower, the
style of which is that of the ninth and tenth century. It is very similar to the
temple of Vrij at Chittore; and it is consecrated to the monkey-god, Hunouman,
so far as I could gather from the statue which adorns its front.

Night had set in by the time we reached Barwa, where we were informed
that the usual halting-place of the sahibs was in an ancient castle upon the banks
of the Lake Barwa-Sagur. A native showed us the way there, and, halting at the
entrance, advised us not to go in alone, as the place had the reputation of being
haunted by robbers and beasts of prey. Determining therefore to await the
arrival of our retinue, we went into what was used as a guard-room when the
castle was a fortified place; from which we could only just make out the outlines
of the castle, from the black mass of which the crenellated towers soared upwards
into the sky. But the hours went by, and there was no sign of our caravan
coming; so, finding our patience exhausted and our appetite unsatisfied, we sent
our sowars into the village for some milk and bread. They were absent more
than an hour, having no doubt provided for themselves, but they brought back
with them some provisions for us. Our escort, having lost its way in the ravines
leading to the Betwa, did not arrive till midnight.

Having lighted torches, we began by visiting the apartments of the castle.
The ground floor consists of large vaulted rooms, the large windows of which look
out upon a deep precipice near the lake; and a winding staircase leads to the
first floor, the rooms of which were tenanted by large bats, which the English call
flying foxes. These hideous animals flew about in all directions when disturbed by
the light of our torches, flapping their great wings in our faces, and making off
through the corridors with shrill cries. Upon the second floor we found some
smaller and more comfortable apartments, which, as the tables and chairs attested,
had been used by picnic parties from Jhansi. These rooms at the top of the palace
are partly surrounded by a terrace overlooking the lake; and to our great surprise,
and just as I was about to give orders for our baggage to be brought up, I saw
the whole caravan, horses and camels included, come out on to the terrace; the
explanation of this startling fact being that there is a wide stone road which,
‘winding round the rock upon which the castle is built, leads right up to the
second storey. Our camp was soon installed in its aérial abode, and a good dinner
obliterated the recollection of our inconveniences during the day.

Lake Barwa-Sagur is two miles long by one broad; but it is, correctly speaking,
a jheel, or artificial lake formed by damming up a small tributary of the Betwa.
It is situated in the midst of a plain encircled by a small chain of hills, some of
which have peaks the shape of a pyramid.

The bund, or dam, which keeps its water from flowing away, is half a mile
long; it is about forty feet high, and from thirty to forty feet through. Near the

.
lake there are a great number of steps leading to the water; and the terrace is

a
fe INDIA,

4

3

planted with a double row of large trees, which form a very handsome walk. It
is supposed that Birsing Deo was the creator of this remarkable work ; but
popular opinion in Bundelcund attributes everything to this great sovereign, and
it is probable enough that the lake was made at an epoch anterior to his.

The usefulness of works of this kind is made very apparent here, for all the
country below the lake is very fertile, while above it the land is barren and the

vegetation parched. The castle stands upon the side of a hill, at the foot of

 

THE “BUND” OF LAKE BARWA-SAGUR.

which the torrent, now driven back into the jheel, used to make its way. Itisa
singular building, having nothing Hindoo about it; and, with its large round
towers and its many-windowed facades, it would not be out of place upon the
hills that overlook the Rhine. The position which: it occupies is very well
chosen, as it commands a view of the whole country, from the Betwa to Oorcha.
The next day I went with my gun along the shores of the lake, having seen with
my glass from the top of the castle large flights of wild-fowl in the small pools
upon the other side. My path lay through the leafy alleys of the bund; and,
BIRSING LAKE, 347

after stopping to look at the small summer palace of the kings of Oorcha, I
penetrated into the jungle which runs along the shores of the lake. Hundreds of
wild-fowl with the brightest of plumage were disporting themselves amidst the
lotus-leaves, but I reserved my ammunition for the ducks. Obliged to take a
roundabout way to avoid a piece of bog, I suddenly found myself in front of a
small temple half buried beneath the briars and the lianas. It was a very gaunt
building, about fifteen feet high, flanked by a portico supported by unfinished
columns. Four chapels, which did not contain a single idol, abutted upon this
portico, and the roof of each chapel formed a small pyramid surmounted by a
large stone slab. All around, half buried in the ground, lay large blocks of
marble, some of them covered with sculpture, and belonging, no doubt, to other
temples now in ruins. This small edifice is very interesting, and deserves to be
studied by archeologists. From the style of its pillars and the arrangement of
its chapels, it clearly belongs to the earliest Jain epoch.

Leaving the temple, I continued my walk, and was fortunate enough to come
upon a large flock of wild geese luxuriating at the extremity of a small piece of
ground bordering the pool. These birds are always very wild and difficult to
get at, but I managed to shoot a very large one, and made a good bag before
returning to the castle. Everybody was so pleased with our encampment that I
determined to pass a few days at this charming spot; and the beauty of the lake
and of the country around it, and the mildness of the season, were alone sufficient
to excuse our indolence.

. We spent the first day in rowing upon the lake and beneath the luxuriant
shade of a small wood that skirts the bund. All the Barwa territory is traversed
by minor streams which are imbibed by the rice-plants, or form pools near the
jungle; and these marshes are the abode of numbers of snipe, which swarm
amongst the reeds.

In the evening the village lads treated us to a regatta on the lake; their
canoes being the hollowed trunks of trees, which they propel with the paddle,
and the prize a wild goose which I had wounded in the morning, and which had
taken refuge in the centre of the jheel. The pursuit was a very long one, for the
poor goose dived well; and in the ardour of the chase several of the barks were
upset—a fact which made me rather uneasy, but I was told that there were not
many crocodiles in the lake. At last the wretched goose was hunted down and
brought back to the shore in triumph. These geese are very like our own, of
about the same size, but rather longer in the neck; the plumage white, with
black feathers in the wings, the head crested, and the beak yellow.

Night set in before our return to the castle, which was brilliant with light,
throwing into strange relief the figures of our camels and servants, and reminding
us of the palaces hidden in forests which we read of in fairy tales.

The next day I was awoke by a vast noise, and, going out upon the terrace, I
found all the men in a great state of excitement, gesticulating and shouting at the
top of their voice. After some difficulty I Gacueerel that one of the camel-
drivers, trusting’ to the exceptionally safe position of the encampment, had
neglected to tie up his two camels, and that the latter, attracted by the smell of
the woods, had strayed away into the plain below. One had come back in the
morning, but the other had been killed by a tiger, and was found dead beneath a
tree. At first sight there was nothing to indicate the manner of its death. The
348 INDIA.

camel lay stretched out at full length, with its throat gaping open and its flanks
torn, and all around were traces of the jackals and hyenas which had taken part
in the feast; but farther on we discovered tracks of what must have been either
a tiger or a large panther.

The bungheeas of the village soon flocked to the spot, hoping to have another
such feast as we had witnessed at Duttiah, but I drove them off. We determined,
however, to avenge the camel’s death, and for this purpose left the body as a bait
for the tiger, who was pretty certain to come back and finish his meal.

In the course of the day, I arranged a hiding-place in the branches of a large
tree about thirty paces from the dead camel; and, at nightfall, Schaumburg and
myself, with two sowars, took up our positions there. It was one of those splendid
nights of the Indian spring; the fresh air sweet with the perfumes of the blossoms
which hung in heavy festoons from the branches of the mango-trees, and the sky
glittering with the stars, which reflected their light in the tranquil waters of the
lake. The jackals soon put in an appearance, deafening us with their howling,
and fastening eagerly upon the carcase. About one in the morning the jackals
and hyenas suddenly made off: they instinctively felt the approach of their
master. For a quarter of an hour, the only sound to be heard was a crackling
in the wood, and the tiger appeared at the edge of the thicket. He advanced
slowly, snuffing the air, and, having reassured himself that all was secure,
bounded forward upon his prey, and attacked it with subdued growling. At
that moment the moon rose over the extremity of the lake, and lighted up the
strange scene. At the foot of a fig-tree, the white branches of which stood out
against the sky, the tiger and his victim formed a fantastic group; around was
the gloomy and silent forest; and, in the distance, the black mass of the forest
rising above a cluster of trees silvered by the moonlight. For some time we
looked on at the spectacle; but a crackling of the branches in our retreat
attracted the tiger’s attention, and, with a bound, he disappeared into the jungle,
our shots failing to take effect. The men rushed down from the castle with
torches ; but, though there were a few splashes of blood upon the leaves, it was
easy to judge by the impetus with which he bounded off that we had not avenged
the camel’s death.
CHAPTER XXXIII.

OORCHA.

Oorcha, the former Capital of Pundelcund.—The Boundélas Kings —The Palace of Flowers.—
' The Citadel and the Palace.—The Temple of Chutter Bhoje——The Tomb of Birsing Deo.—
Preparations for a Féte.—Katchmair,—The Dog and the Policemen.

ORCHA, the former capital of Bundelcund, is about eight miles
from Barwa-Sagur, and nearly the same distance from Jhansi.
Its ruins still cover a large rocky eminence upon the left bank
of the Betwa; and its citadel stands upon an island separated
from the mainland by a narrow and deep arm of the river.

It was not till 1531 that Pretap Hrad, tenth descendant of
Hourdeo Sing, founder of the Boundéla tribe, settled in the Betwa island. Con-
fident as to the future of the new city, he built a wall five miles in circumference ;
its population increased rapidly, and it soon ranked as one of the greatest towns
in Central India.

Madhikar Sih, grandson of Pretap, was renowned for his excellent system of
government. He gained the friendship of the great Akbar, and provided Oorcha
with important edifices; but this calm and prosperous reign was soon eclipsed by
the brilliant career of his son Birsing Deo. Ascending the throne in the first
half of the seventeenth century, this prince, taking advantage of the indifference
of the Padishahs, made himself celebrated by his incursions upon the fertile pro-
vinces of Malwa and of the Jats, and extended the dominion of the Boundélas
from the Jumna to the Vindhyas. His cold-blooded cruelty and his reckless
daring made him the terror of Central India, and earned for him the name, still
preserved in history, of dang, or bandit. Akbar’s old age was saddened by the
secret schemes of his sons to obtain the right of inheritance to his throne. Birsing
Deo took the side of Prince Selim, who was afterwards the Emperor Jehanghir,
and thus obtained a pretext for giving free course to his ambitious designs. He
surprised Abdul Fazel, the minister of Akbar, and the greatest historian that
India has ever produced, near Gwalior, and, after having had him massacred in
cold blood, sent his head to Prince Selim. Jehanghir, when he became emperor,
was anxious to retain the goodwill of his formidable ally, and confirmed him in
possession of the lands which he had ravished. Henceforward Birsing’s ambition
seems to have been gratified, and he devoted the rest of his reign to the internal
organisation of Bundelcund. The country was provided with fine buildings, roads,
bridges, and dykes, while the capital was made rich with monuments of great

splendour.

 
350 INDIA.

Oorcha was then at the summit of its splendour; its population increased
rapidly, and the frequent visits of the emperor made it the central point of
attraction. But its fall was destined to be as rapid as its rise. Birsing’s
successor, Jajhar Sing, not following the adroit policy of his race, had the
temerity to attack the Mogul power outright; and, defeated and dethroned,
he was replaced by his brother Pehar, who was a creature and a vassal of the
Delhi court.

This sealed the fate of the Bundelcund empire, and the Mahrattas dealt it its
death-blow. The crown of Birsing is now parcelled out among numerous petty
States; and Oorcha, deserted and abandoned, is nothing but a township in the
raj of Tehri, where a few hundred peasants vegetate beneath the shadow of
its palace. Thus we have an instance of a city between whose foundation and
complete abandonment there is an interval of only three centuries.

Though not very ancient, it contains many subjects of great interest for the
traveller. Built all at one period by a young and powerful race, it has a distinc-
tive character peculiar to itself. Everything in it is imposing, full of originality,
and boldly conceived ; and its palaces and its chief temple bear comparison with
the masterpieces of the great Hindoo schools of architecture.

On the 14th of February we left Barwa-Sagur, and, after two hours’ march
through the dense forests on the banks of the Betwa, we reached the walls of the
ancient capital. The great gate with its pointed arch, which was formerly used
as an entrance to the city, has been walled up, and the passage now used is
through a narrow postern-gate. The first parts of the city through which we
went were but mere heaps of ruins overshadowed by large acacias. Here and
there were cultivated tracts of ground which showed that, even in the days of its
splendour, the city did not cover all the space within the walls which Pretap
Hrdd had allotted to it. The ground was rocky and somewhat undulating, and
upon the crest of the hill there were no remains of any importance. From it,
however, all the marvels of Oorcha may be seen. Upon the other side of the
orchards, which form a small forest, extends the long line of palaces stretching
towards the river and forming a junction with those upon the island; and above
them, and suspended, as it were, over the terraces of the palaces, stands out the
vast mass of the temple of Chutter Bhoje. One is especially struck by the vast
number of these buildings which are still upstanding. It is difficult to regard
them merely as a suite of buildings intended for a Court: they look like a city
of palaces. Our guide took us through long and narrow streets bordered upon
each side by the high walls of the gardens; and he brought us to a halt at a
door, the panels of which are of wood, and bordered with long festoons of the
hop-plant. After knocking repeatedly, and causing the echo to resound through
the dead city, a servant opened the door, and without making any remark
motioned us to enter; when we found ourselves in a beautiful garden known as
Foull Baugh (the Garden of Flowers). The flower-beds, and the thick groves
composed of all the fruit trees of the tropics, were surrounded by well-paved
walks, and at the end of the garden stood the Palace of Flowers, a tasteful
pavilion which is a true type of the Boundéla style. The ground floor of the
palace has a verandah supported by twenty-four columns of red sandstone, form-
ing a large open room. Over the verandah is a terrace, to which the first-floor
apartments give access; and this terrace, which was no doubt for the use of the
THE PALACE OF FLOWERS. —

ladies of the palace, is encompassed by a low wall. The second floor has a cage-
shaped balcony, which sets off the building considerably; the flat stone roof
being crowned by a small dome in the Boundéla style, with a great deal of

|

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THE PALACE OF FLOWERS, OORCHA.

 

moulding about it, and flanked by four small chatris. The servant, after having
done us the honours of the palace, showed us the cellars, which are very large,

and derive their light from small gratings.
This small palace, which dates from the sixteenth century, was the residence
53 INDIA.
of King Madhikar Sah, who, being very fond of hydraulics, had a whole network
of conduits excavated beneath the soil of the garden, supplying water to thou-
sands of pipes which were placed beneath the flowers, and upon the different floors
of the palace. Two water-towers, the shape of which, reminding one of factory
chimneys, somewhat mars the general beauty of the place, conduct the water into
the conduit-pipes from the Betwa; and the waters are still played on great
occasions: but many of the pipes are choked, and supply but little. The Foull
Baugh, the only inhabited building in Oorcha, is maintained by the rajah of Tehri
for the accommodation of European visitors.

At the rear of the palace of Madhikar extend the vast buildings of the Raj
Mahal (royal palace), constructed by King Oudey Sing. The front of the build-
ing looks upon a large court surrounded by galleries; it has lost its coat of
painted stucco, and its naked walls of granite are nearly concealed by a mantle of
creepers. The centre is occupied by a balcony, with columns of red sandstone ;
and the interior contains some fine vaulted rooms, which, however, are now
tenanted only by enormous bats.

To complete this first group of palaces, which covers a considerable space of
ground, I must make mention of another palace rather more to the west, which
possesses a magnificent garden studded with fountains, and which is beyond
doubt the most modern edifice in Oorcha.

The present town consists of a single street of old houses, all in a more or
less dilapidated condition, and extending from the Foull Baugh to the bridge
which connects the citadel with the town. This bridge, built in the seventeenth
century, during the reign of King Pirthi Sing, is a remarkable work of art. The
granite platform, with its wide roadway, is flanked by high parapets with small
recesses looking over the water, and its narrow arches rest upon massive piles of
granite.

The extremity of the bridge is terminated by small turreted bastions, which
guard the entry to the eitadal ; which has a very imposing appearance with its
long line of loop-holed walls and pointed battlements. It embraces the banks of
the river upon both sides of the bridge, but without concealing the enormous mass
of the Boundéla palace, the fagades of which, intermingled, so to speak, one with
the other, are crowned by lofty domes and countless chatris. To the left are
visible the enamelled cupolas of the palace, built by Birsing Deo for the Emperor
Jehanghir, which is a replica of the palace which he built at Duttiah; the centre
being occupied by the pavilions of King Pirthi, which, in spite of their heavy
appearance, are known as the Nautch Mahal, or Palace of Crystal; and to the
right are the massive buildings of the zenana.

The interior of these palaces is very interesting, containing amongst other
chambers the throne-room of Birsing, in which the rajahs of Tehri Oorcha, the
chiefs of the Boundéla Confederation, are still crowned. The great and small
apartments and the queen’s rooms are also worth visiting, though there is nothing
of any special importance to call for detailed description.

Behind the palace are vast outbuildings, barracks and stables, which attest the
former splendour of the Oorcha Court. Here, as at Duttiah, the succession of
Birsing has been found too onerous by the present princes, and, excepting one or
two pavilions, the palace is deserted.

Recrossing the bridge, a road to the left of the village soon brought us to the
TEMPLE OF CHUTTER BHOZE. 353

temple of Chutter Bhoje, which is the glory of Oorcha. The first impression one
feels is admiration for its wonderful style, and more especially for the magnitude
of its proportions ; and this feeling is enhanced by its splendid situation upon the
summit of a gigantic pedestal fifteen feet high. There is nothing of the pagan
temple about it, while the absence of ornament and the dimensions of the nave
might cause it to be taken for a Christian place of worship. It is built in the
shape of a Latin cross, but, in contradistinction to Christian churches, the top of

i aa

 

z S & S SS
WS te 1g HAR SRR Fine SS

TEMPLE OF CHUTTER BHOJE, OORCHA.

the cross is towards the entrance, and the elongated part towards the altar ; in
other words, it is a cross reversed. = eet
A large flight of steps leads up to the porch, which forms a pavilion projecting
from beyond the main front; and the doors, very wide and lofty, are crowned by
a Jain arch, and flanked by two recesses. The original attic has disappeared, and
has been replaced by a heavy modern pavilion, which spoils the general’ effect.
Behind these outer buildings extends the main front, divided into four storeys by

large ogives, and flanked by two square towers ‘which are capped by once
354 INDIA,

steeples. Two similar towers are at the other end of the temple, and the flat
roof of which they form the four corners has in its centre a large round cupola
with a small lantern at its summit. Besides these there are two steeples, one
about a hundred and the other a hundred and fifty feet high.

The granite terrace upon which it is constructed is very massive, and forms,
so to speak, one solid slab nearly fifty feet high, without any interstice whatever
at its base. This temple was built by Birsing Deo in the seventeenth century.

From this we proceeded to the lower part of the town, which is built along
the slope of the platform down to the banks of the Betwa, in the shape of an
amphitheatre. These quarters appear to have been destroyed by some terrible
cataclysm, for the streets are half buried beneath the crumbling ruins, and the
few houses still standing can boast only of gaping walls and falling roofs. The
Boundéla soldier who served me as guide through these ruins asserted that the
town had been partially abandoned when it was flooded by the waters of the
Betwa, which swept away everything that the war had spared. I do not know
how far this statement is correct, for the town is some height above the level of
the river; but it is not impossible in a country where the rivers, suddenly swollen
by the monsoon rains, flood the neighbouriny lands to a great distance.

To the south of the city stretches the important necropolis of the Boundéla
dynasty. It consists of a group of splendid monuments, large chapels with graceful
spires, extending in a straight line along the rocks which border the stream.
Somewhat isolated from this group is the tomb of Birsing Deo, a gigantic
mausoleum, quite in keeping with the fierce and mighty warrior who reposes
beneath it. It is a large square block, flanked by two massive towers, and
crowned by an enormous dome, of which a portion only is still extant. There is
not the least sculpture or ornament upon the facades, which are merely set off by
a series of recesses. P

At this point the Betwa, emerging from the forest, leaps over a barrier of
rocks which obstruct its course, and its foaming waters find their way into a calm
and limpid pool below the cascade.

One may mount to the summit of the mausoleum of Birsing Deo, though the
ascent is somewhat dangerous. From the top there is a magnificent panorama ;
the river winding its course through gloomy forests which stretch back to the :
horizon, the haunts of the tiger and the bison.

The exploration of the wonders of Oorcha occupied the whole day; and
subsequently Schaumburg took some general sketches, while I photographed the
various buildings. These operations we extended over several days, during which
we set up our headquarters beneath the verandah in the Palace of Flowers; and
at this season of the year the pomegranate and lemon trees were covered with
blossoms.

While we were still at Oorcha, I learned that Colonel Meade, the Governor-
General's Agent for Central India, would halt for a few hours at Barwa-Sagur.
I sent on my letters to him by a messenger, and received in return not only a
very polite reply, but letters of introduction to the various agents of Central India.
Henceforward we travelled beneath the xgis of this high authority, and never
met with the smallest obstacle. I gladly, therefore, embrace this opportunity of
thanking him for his kindness.

February 20th—We left Oorcha to regain our camp, which I had sent on
KATCHNAIR. 355

ae to the Has of Ka ate hnair, on the road to Nowg and we found our
ee . a et ow in fro ad ee villa belonging . the rajahs of Oorcha,
ery comfortably lodged within the hou and in the course

f

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:

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of the ata isit from the ean vs village, who lent me of his
boats to ee mn the aan en aunareares iret ail

kinds if aildtoal se eden 1 ay eee eae remarkable variety of the water-hen
with purple plumage,

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356 INDIA.

At nightfall, on the eve of despatching our men towards Alipoura, our next
place of encampment, I found that the leather bag in which I generally carried
my provisions for the route had been stolen. The theft was not intrinsically very
important, but I made a sharp complaint about it to the chief of the village, who
promised to institute a search. I believed the bag was irrecoverably lost, but it
was sent on to me at Nowgong a week afterwards, accompanied by a large roll of
parchment, stating that the bag had been discovered some distance from the
village, in the possession of the culprit, who was a dog. The letter went on to say
that the dog had been duly punished, and that the bag had been sent on from
post to post, as the attestation of each policeman on the route would prove to me.
I have thought it worth while to record this fact, for, though insignificant of itself,
it shows how much respect is paid to all Europeans who have an official title, or
who are supposed to have one—a respect which descends to the smallest details.
Thus, in districts where there was no post-office, I have had my letters following
me from place to place for a month, out of the sheer anxiety of the villagers to
be obliging. 2

 

FROM NOWGONG TO CHUTTERPORE,
CHAPTER XXXIV.
STATE OF CHUTTERPORE.

Jagheer of Alipoura.—Nowgong.—A good Samaritan Lady.—Chutterpore.—Our First Salute.—
Rajnuggur.—The Royal Camp.—The Holi Fair—Meeting the Maharajah in the Fair
Field.—The Indian Silenus.—Festivals and Ceremonies.—The Durbar.—Rajgurh,

A); EBRUARY 21st.—Leaving Katchnair in the morning, our
course lay for a few miles through the English province of
Calpee, annexed from Bundelcund in 1806. It is a fertile
district, which extends to the right bank of the Jumna; and
we passed two of its most important towns, Ranipoura and
Mhow, which are not a mile and a half apart. They are the
centre of a flotalichine manufacture of dyed cloth and other fabrics. Not far
from Mhow we forded the Dessaun, which is the principal tributary of the Betwa,
and at this point a large stream whose course lies through a fertile district.

Upon the other bank is situated the Jagheer of Alipoura, which lies impacted,
as it were, into the kingdom of Chutterpore. A march of three hours through a
hilly country with dense jungles brought us to Alipoura, the capital of this petty
State. It is a small town, half hidden in the ravines at. the foot of the hill on
which the castle of Alipoura is built. The chief of the State has the title of
jagheerdar, and possesses independent power, under the patronage of England,
over eighty-five square miles and nine thousand souls. To judge by the wretched
appearance of the surrounding country, his revenues must be very small. I had
a letter of introduction to him; but he was on a hunting excursion in the
mountains, from which he would not return till the next day.

Our camp was pitched in a small wood near the town, frequented by the
ill-fed pigs and dogs of the place, which did not seem to like our intrusion. The
men had just arrived, and the beasts of burden were evidently worn out; and
not till then did I discover that, being deceived by the Bundelcund coss, which
are double the distance of the Hindostan coss, we had been making forced
marches for the last two days. Thus our last march, instead of being twenty
miles, as I had calculated it to be, was in reality nearer thirty.

Our tents were pitched round a small temple of primitive structure, the
only monument in Alipoura. It certainly was a miserable place; and the
jagheerdar’s servants, in the absence of their master, were very insolent, so
that we had some difficulty in procuring the provisions we required, even though
we were made to pay very heavily for them. What made our men most indig-
nant was seeing that we had to buy our wood by weight, for everywhere in the

 
358 INDIA,
jungle it is supplied to travellers eratis, or at all events for a nominal price.
But at Alipoura wood is a monopoly of the jagheerdar, and his stewards sell
it very dear. ie

February 22nd.—Leaving our men to have a few hours’ rest, we started alone
for Nowgong, a small English station only a few miles off, where our guides told
us we should find a traveller’s bungalow. A two hours’ ride across a bare and
parched-up plain brought us to Nowgong, the houses of which, European in style,
are sheltered by a belt of trees; and I inquired for the bungalow: but my dis-
appointment may be conceived when I was shown four walls still surrounded
with scaffolding, the building being still unfinished. Hereupon I thought of
throwing myself upon the hospitality of the English Agent, to whom I had a
letter of introduction from Colonel Meade; but I learned that he was absent.

I now began to regret my precipitation, for our baggage would not arrive till
the evening; our only shelter was a large tree in the compound of the bungalow,
and we had nothing but a stick of chocolate for breakfast. While we rested
beneath the tree with our sowars, a European regiment defiled past us on its
way to the cantonment: but our travel-stained appearance attracted the attention
of the men, who no doubt looked upon us as loafers or worse, and the officers did
not seem to entertain a much better opinion of us. Soon, however, I saw an
elderly servant, wearing the red turban and the shoulder-belt with a silver shield
which is the livery of English functionaries, hastening towards us. He came
to say that Mrs. C——, the wife of the engineer of the camp, had seen us from
her bungalow, and, guessing our position, begged us to come and lunch with her ;
but, not liking to present ourselves in our condition, I sent to thank the lady
for her kind invitation, and to explain why we could not accept it. Thereupon,
resolved to be hospitable, whether we would accept it or not, she sent us out
some lunch, which we enjoyed in the shade of the tree. Our men arrived about
two o’clock, when, after dressing, we went to thank Mrs. C—— for her hospi-
tality; and there I met a gentleman whom I am proud to be able to count
amongst my most intimate friends. He had sent to us at Alipoura in the
morning, asking us to come and stay with him during our visit to Nowgong,
and had prepared for us a large tent, divided off into three rooms, in his garden.

We had intended to remain only a couple of days at Nowgong, but we spent
a week very pleasantly, being received with great hospitality by officers and
civilians alike. Moreover, my friend was a great archeologist, and he gave me
much information about the countries of Central India through which he had
travelled, and furnished me with an itinerary which would take me to all the
antique monuments in those districts; and further, in compliance with Colonel
Meade’s instructions, he gave me khureetas, or official letters, to all the rajahs
whose States I was likely to visit, and also wrote to each of them to announce
my arrival. In fact, his kindness was untiring, and it procured for us the greatest
hospitality during the remainder of our travels.

The first Court that we were to visit was that of Chutterpore, near Nowgong.
The king was absent, but he invited us to join him, and, after visiting his capital,
one of his travelling carriages took us to Mhow, within a mile and a half of the
English encampment, which, for reasons unknown to me, we were not allowed
to go through.

February 28th—Our departure differed very much from our arrival, and we
CHUTTERPORE. aoa

shall never forget the kindness of the English at Nowgong. We left on horse-
back, accompanied by our Gwalior sowars; and at Mhow we found the rajah’s
carriage, with an escort of cavalry, waiting for us.

The little town of Mhow is sitwated at the entrance to the defiles which
conduct to the high tablelands stretching to the river Keyn, and it is picturesquely
built, nestling beneath the wooded heights. A well-kept road cut out of the rock
mounts a rather steep hill, and debouches on the other side upon a large lake,
surrounded by a row of mausoleums; among which stands out the dome of the
cenotaph erected in memory of Chutter Sal, the first king of Chutterpore; and the
lake, fed by the watercourses of the overhanging hills, is protected by a bund,
the great antiquity of which is proved by recent discoveries of Jain relics.

Thence to Chutterpore the road lies for twelve miles across a wild stretch of
tableland, covered with thorn-bushes and stunted shrubs. The capital itself
stands in the centre of a narrow valley, which forms an oasis of verdure amidst
the barren peaks by which it is encircled. With its green meadows and clusters
of leafy mango-trees, the approach to the town reminds one of an English park ;
and amidst the greenery stand numerous temples, some of them very large, but
without any architectural pretensions: most of them are of modern date, the
walls being of brick with a coating of stucco: I was informed that, Hindoo and
Jain together, they number over two hundred.

Our carriage halted at the entrance to the town, in front of the Residence,
which was formerly inhabited by the Agent of Bundeleund, who has recently
transferred his quarters to Nowgong; and at the foot of the portico we found
several personages whom the maharajah had sent to receive us. As we alighted
we were saluted by a salvo of eleven guns; and my astonishment thereat was
mistaken for displeasure by the vukeel, who explained that, not knowing the
exact number which we were generally greeted with, they had fixed it at eleven,
but that for the future I had only to say how many I expected. It was in vain
that I endeavoured to persuade him that I did not expect any such honour: he
firmly believed that I was offended.

The Residence had been prepared for our reception; an English dinner was
served up in the dining-room ; and a courier was in attendance to announce our
arrival to the rajah, and to inform him when we might be expected to join him.
I was told that he was celebrating the Holi, amidst the ruins of the ancient
Kajraha, whose temples, dating back to a fabulously early epoch, are esteemed as
the greatest marvels in Bundelcund.

March 1st.—Accompanied by the vukeel, we paid a visit to the objects of
curiosity in the capital. These are not very numerous, for the town, though
large, is irregularly built and uninteresting. The palace itself is a modern
building, a hybrid mixture of the Italian villa and the Rajpoot castle—a combina-
tion of styles which, though not artistic, is by no means unsuited to the climate.
A large lake, with flights of stone steps and kiosks, extends up to the walls of
the palace on one side, and upon one of its banks is a relatively ancient Boundéla
palace, which helps to set off the whole pile. We finally inspected the College,
which is well managed and attended by a large number of students.

Chutterpore only dates from the close of the seventeenth century, it having
been founded in the reign of Aurungzeb by King Chutter Sal, whose predecessor
refused to recognise the Mogul empire, and sallied forth to ravage the valley of
ae INDIA.

the Jumna; but the Emperor Aurungzeb put a price upon his head, and he
was assassinated. His son, Chutter, then assumed the command, and waged a
desperate guerilla warfare against the Moguls. Gradually gaining ground, he
eventually made himself master of all Bundelcund, whereupon the brigand chief

 

THE TEMPLE OF KALI, KAJRAHA.

proclaimed himself rajah. It was then that he founded his capital of Chutterpore
amidst the forests which had served him for a hiding-place; and, imitating the
policy of Birsing, he took advantage of Aurungzeb’s death to have his sovereignty
recognised by the feeble Bahadour Shah. After his death, however, his kingdom
was soon broken up; the Mahrattas seized the provinces of Saugor and Calpee;
THE HOLI. 361

and, some years afterwards, other districts also were detached from the crown of
Chutterpore. The present maharajah reigns over twelve hundred square miles of
territory, and from two to three hundred thousand souls.

March 2nd.—We travelled the #wenty-five miles to the royal camp in the
carriage which had brought us from Mhow; the road traversing a wild tract of
country, a succession of small hills and ravines, half covered with jungles of
brushwood. It would be considered an impassable road for carriages in any other
country, but the coachmen in India are not very particular, and we rattled along
over the stones, making an occasional circuit to avoid one bigger than the rest.
We did not go by a single village, and it was only here and there that we could
discern a few wretched huts hidden amidst the woods. Five miles from our
destination the road ceased altogether, and we were compelled to alight; but this
contingency had been foreseen, for we found an elephant waiting to take us the
rest of the distance; and his paces seemed very easy after the jolting we had
just endured.

_The king was encamped upon the outskirts of Rajnuggur, a small town
protected by a citadel built above it. As we passed by the citadel, we noticed
that the guns were mounted upon the bastions, with the artillerymen at their
posts, and a few moments afterwards a salvo announced our safe arrival.

Our tents were pitched beneath the trees, and we had scarcely reached them
when one of the sirdars, accompanied by two choubdars with golden canes and a
long string of servants carrying fruits and sweetmeats, came to greet us on behalf
of the maharajah. The salvers holding these delicacies were laid at my feet ; and
after touching them with my right hand, and raising it to my forehead in token
of acceptance, I had them distributed amongst my men, together with a purse of
rupees which was upon one of the salvers. We then exchanged civilities with
the sirdar, who retired to acquaint.the maharajah with the result of his mission.

March 3rd.—Karly in the morning the king left Rajnuggur to celebrate the
Holi at some temples which are three miles distant. We started on the elephant,
and found the road crowded. with pilgrims on their way to the fair, which was
nearly at an end. Amongst them I recognised types of all the provinces of
Northern and Central India—Brahmins of the Ganges, Bengalees, Rajpoots, Jats,
and others, some of them making the great Hurdwar pilgrimage and coming from
the most distant regions of the Deccan. The pilgrim is nearly always accompanied
‘by his family: a donkey or a half-starved horse carries the old people and the
heavy luggage; the women and children carry the articles of household use ; and
the pilgrim alone walks unencumbered, in all his dignity as head of the family.

We soon came in sight of the long line- of royal tents, close to which was our
ownencampment. About a gunshot off, the crowd was amusing itself beneath the
shadow of large trees, above the thick foliage of which rose the summits of the
temples, the objects of the pilgrimage.

In my description of Oudeypoor, 1 have already spoken of the festivals and
ceremonies of the Holi: but there we saw only the saturnalia of a capital which
is justly renowned in India for its refinement and luxury ; whereas here we might
expect to witness the wild bacchanalia of the multitude, abandoning itself without
reserve to the license accorded by ancient tradition.

The legend itself is here stripped of all the poetical associations which the
Rajpoots have kept up. Holica is no longer the Goddess of Spring, imperson-
362 INDIA.

ating the reawakening of the Indian Nature: she is a female demon, typifying
the most shameless vice, who, springing from the head of Mahadeva, creates dis-
cord in Merou, the Brahmin Olympus. She even obtains the mastery over
Brahma and Indra, whom she inveigles into the most reckless adventures. The
gods supplicate her in vain to cease her wiles, but she only makes sport of their
entreaties. At last Brahma confers upon her twenty-four titles of honour, such
as Trigita and Dhoundia; and Holica, overcome with joy, sets them at liberty,
after having exacted from them an oath that they would celebrate her name each
year by festivals and wild saturnalia.

This bald recital of the legend will suffice to show that the Brahmins, seeing
the influence of Buddhism and Jainism, did not hesitate to distort the primitive
tradition and to appeal to the grossest instincts. It is no longer license tempered
by the sharp and delicate intellect of the Rajpoot ; the scene is one of unbridled
debauchery, carried on without an effort at concealment.

Thus, as we passed within sight of the fair-field on our return from explor-
ing the temples in the evening, it seemed as if we were approaching one of those
sacred groves known to antiquity, within the sombre depths of which the most
monstrous scenes were enacted. Countless bonfires, the flames of which shot up
above the trees, were surrounded by seething crowds, whose shrieks and yells were
half drowned by the beating of thousands of cymbals, gongs, and tom-toms.
Women and children were hurrying across the plain, vociferating hymns in honour
of the terrible Holica; and all around were being perpetrated deeds which form
the crown and glory of this ignoble divinity.

I was informed: that in former days numerous gallows-trees used to be erected
in the middle of the fair, and that men intoxicated with bang came and hung
themselves up to iron hooks, swinging themselves round and round until the flesh
gave way and let them fall to the ground. This ceremony, known as the
Parikrama, was prohibited by the rajah of Chutterpore, but it is still carried on in
other districts.

March 4th.—This morning the maharajah sent us the Holi-ka-mitai dish, in
which were cakes and sweetmeats that looked very enticing, though made of
plaster, sand, or some bitter powder—a sort of “ April Fool’s” dish. This day of
the year, like the first of April in Europe, is in fact devoted to various mystitica-
tions, most of which are similar to those we indulge in, though a few are very
original, notably the rupee trick. A rupee or a gold mohur is taken, and, after
a hole has been drilled in it, is nailed down in the middle of the road. ‘The first
person who comes along, seeing the glitter of the coin, stoops down to pick it up,
and his discomfiture is greeted with shouts of laughter by those who have played
the trick, and have been watching its success from behind a hedge.

The field in which the fair takes place forms a regular town of tents and
covered stalls; and in the vicinity of the lake they are pitched in a row upon
either side of a long avenue, for, in addition to its religious purpose, the fair is an
important centre of trade; and every variety of goods,: native fabrics, English
linen, carpets, pottery, boots, bronzes, toys, and arms of all kinds are for sale on
the rickety stalls. A motley crowd of men and women in their holiday attire
press round the fakirs; and jugglers display their religious fervour and dexterity
to the admiring assemblage. Here and there may be seen some of those “round-
abouts” which are in so much request at English fairs, and which have been
MEETING THE MAHARAYAH. 363

known in India from the earliest ages ; and beneath the trees are placed several
of the rough lay figures representing Holica to which I alluded in my description
of Oudeypoor.

The approaches to the temples@re densely thronged. The crowds press up
the steps leading to the portico, and, after having cast their pieces of money at
the feet of the idols, they congregate upon the terraces and gaze up at the indecent
sculptures on the facades, which some Brahmin guide explains to them in a way
calculated to gratify their obscene tastes. All the paths leading to the fair are
crowded with pilgrims who have been delayed on the way, or by the inhabitants
of the neighbouring villages who bring provisions for sale. The whole plain is
covered with people, and the noise is absolutely deafening.

About three o’clock the vukeel came to ask us to meet the king on the fair-
field, and brought with him four elephants to form our sowari. The king
obviously desired to provide a spectacle for the people; but, as he was personally
to take part in it, I could not do otherwise than comply with the invitation, more
especially as it would amuse the crowd, which had treated us very politely.
Accordingly we mounted one of the elephants, and, followed by several nobles
riding the three others, and escorted by our Gwalior sowars, we advanced in great
state towards the fair, preceded by choubdars of the rajah’s Court, and the crowd
falling back to let us pass. The rajah’s sowari, on the other hand, advanced to
meet us, and, as the two processions met, my elephant was brought beside that
ridden by the prince, who, in his state robes, was seated upon a cushion laminated
with gold. We exchanged greetings, and the rajah offered us his hand; after
which our elephant was wheeled round in a line with his, and the double pro-
cession moved off towards the temple.

This was my first meeting with the maharajah, whose guests we had been for
several days. He was a young man of about twenty-two, with delicate and
pleasant features, a long black beard, and soft eyes with an expression of melan-
choly that struck me at once. He speaks Hindostanee very gracefully, and
entered into a long conversation as to our travels, and, afterwards, as to his
kingdom and the customs of the country. He informed me that his ministers
made a large profit out of the fair through a tax upon the pilgrims and the sales
of goods; and this I could easily believe, for the pilgrims sometimes number
eighty thousand. He also pointed out to me that the female sex preponderated
in seeming, though not in fact, as the young men of inferior castes wear female
apparel on these occasions.

The crowd, to whom our presence was an unexpected attraction, pressed
round the sowari with deafening shouts of “Wah, Maharaj!” “Wah,
Sahiblog !”

Our conversation was interrupted by our arrival at a temple dedicated to
Chutter Bhoje, to whom the king had come to make an offering. The Brahmin
priests standing upon the threshold bestowed on us their benedictions, in return
tor which I gave them a few rupees; and, after this ceremony, a troop of dancers,
disguised as bayadéres, asked permission to perform betore us, which they did in
imitation of the attitudes of the bayadéres, accompanying their movements with
the-most disgusting couplets.

The procession moved on again; and, when night set in, the plain was bright
with a thousand fires, while the shouts and the singing grew louder and louder.
6 INDIA.

After accompanying the rajah to his tent, we were escorted back to our encamp-
ment by torch-bearers.
March 5th—The most remarkable incident of the day was a procession,
reminding one of the antique ceremonies in honour of Bacchus. The principal
figure in it was a fat merchant, who, after having been duly intoxicated, re-
presented the companion of Holica. Bestriding a small donkey, his face smeared
with ochre, a string of the most heterogeneous objects round his neck, and his
head covered with flowers, he moved along, held upon the donkey by two
staggering acolytes ; and behind him came the travesty of a royal parasol, made
out of the bottom of an old basket fastened on to a cane. His cortége consisted
of a drunken and vociferous crowd of half-naked men and women, who howled
and rolled themselves on the ground, like the chorus of the antique Silenus; and

 

THE INDIAN SILENUS.

naked children, decked with flowers, ran in front, blowing earthenware horns or
beating cracked tom-toms. In this order the procession traversed the méla, or fair,
swollen by all the vagabonds on its route, and assailed by a shower of harmless
projectiles, such as sacks of purple powder or rotten fruit. When it reached the
plain a halt was made, and the crowd danced round the pseudo-Silenus, indulging
in plentiful libations of the mowrah spirit.

This singular custom, as to the origin or purpose of which I could not obtain
any information, presents a remarkable analogy to the ceremonies of the Greeks,
the Romans, and the Persians, and even with the grotesque maniac’s festival which
was perpetuated down to the Middle Ages in France and England.

In the evening the Holi lay-figures are carried round the camp, and then
placed on an immense bonfire, which, after being steeped with oil and pitch, is
lighted midst the clashing of tom-toms and the shouts of the multitude. Then
begins around these bonfires an infernal dance of women, excited by the braying
RAF¥GURH. 368

of instruments, while the men rush into the flames and endeavour to snatch out
pieces of the burning idols. These dances last far into the night, and terminate
in orgies of the wildest description.

March 6th—Having fixed our departure for the next day, the maharajah
received us to-day at a farewell durbar ; at which we found him seated beneath a
dais, and surrounded by all his Court. When we had taken our seats beside him,
he asked us to prolong our visit, and offered to provide a hunting-party in the
mountains for us; but he accepted our apologies for being compelled to decline,
and bade us a friendly farewell. I left him, as much gratified with his amiable
manners as with his unlimited hospitality ; for it was evident that, though rather
reserved and timid in manner, he was sincerely anxious to promote reforms which
would tend to the good of his subjects. In a twelvemonth from this date, he was
assassinated by a man whom the reactionary party at his Court had employed to
get rid of him, so as to obtain possession of the Regency in the name of his son,
who was only a few years old; but, so far from serving their purpose, this crime
placed them more than ever beneath the power of England, the Regency having
been entrusted to an officer.of her army.

March 7th.—Before leaving the camp at the fair this morning, we received
from the king a splendid khillut of Indian shawls and costly weapons. He also
sent us two elephants and ten horsemen, who accompanied us as far as Punnah.
Thus our caravan had been swelling in size since we left Gwalior; and, judging
by the long file of camels and elephants, and the mass of footmen and horsemen,
it might have been supposed that I was some great rajah.

We travelled in a south-easterly direction across a rich plain partially covered
with woods, which reached to some forest-clad hills, behind which extended the
blue outline of the-ghéts of Punnah. The air was fresh and balmy, and the
country became more and more picturesque; and at Rajgurh we found a camp
that the king had prepared for us and for our retinue, with abundant provisions
for our wants.

Rajgurh is a small frontier town, two or three miles from the river Keyn,
which divides Chutterpore from the kingdom of Punnah. It stands upon the
slope of a small hill, which commands all the valley facing the Marwa defiles ;
and a dilapidated citadel and an old castle entitle it to the rank of a fortified town.

A splendid forest extends from the houses of the town to the mountain, of
which it hides all but the precipitous peaks. Amid the rocks is hidden a sacred
fountain, reputed to possess miraculous properties, which is reached by a wide and
handsome flight of four hundred and seventy-five steps. It originates in a small
basin, fed by the infiltrations of the overhanging grotto; and its water is clear,
but it has a sickly taste. In the centre of the basin is a lingam of Mahadera,
flanked by two idols of Hunouman and Parbatti, which are half worn away by
the water. A curtain of parasite plants hides the entrance to the grotto.

From the summit of the steps there is a beautiful view of the district watered
by the Keyn and of the gigantic bastions which surround Punnah, the classic
land of diamonds. The horizon seems covered with forests,—not scanty jungles,
but virgin forests, abounding with peafowl, their plumage glittering like emeralds,
while the calls and responsive cries from all the denizens of the woods are to be
heard on all sides.

In the evening I despatched a sowar to the frontier post of Punnah, to advise

the authorities of our early arrival.
CHAPTER XXXV.

STATE OF PUNNAH.

The Marwa Ghat.—The King’s Emissaries on the Frontier.—Interview with the Maharajah.—
The Diamond Mines,—The King’s Kitchen Garden.—Hunting Episodes.—A Hunting Cage,
—Rearing of Elephants.—Herd of Sambur.—Excursions to the Fortresses of Adjugurh and
Kalleenjur.

  

ae a ARCH 811.—The camp was raised at four o’clock in the morn-
; ing, and the caravan set out on its march towards Punnah.
On leaving Rajgurh the road plunges into the forest, so that
we pursued our journey in utter darkness as far as the banks
of the Keyn, where we were compelled to wait for daybreak.
Not that the stream is either wide or deep, for at this season
it is scarcely more than a middling-sized torrent, divided into several small branches,
babbling between enormous rocks; but its slippery bed, studded with deep holes,
renders the ford difficult to pass.

The Keyn has its source among the hills towards the Saugor territory,
and, after running two hundred and thirty miles, precipitates itself into the Jumna
at Chilatara.

After an interval of half an hour, the summits of the mountains were covered
with flame-coloured tints, and soon daylight spread over the narrow valley. We
were the first to cross the stream, on the opposite bank of which we awaited the
passage of our elephants and camels; which, owing to several mishaps, took a
good hour to accomplish ; and by that time day had fully dawned, revealing the
site in all its wild grandeur. Behind us towered the jagged layers of the ghats
of Punnah, extending their line of ramparts to the edge of the horizon ; and their
cloak of forest falling downwards in broad undulations to the banks of the torrent,
which noisily bursts from a fissure of the plateau.

These mountains compose the first buttress of the great plateau of Central
India; and they assume all those forms of peaked declivities and perfectly
horizontal summits which have gained for them the title of ghdts, or quays. At
this point they form the extreme north point of the Vindhyas, and stretch out in
a narrow spur as far as the junction of the Ganges and the Jumna.

Our party having at length reassembled, we moved onwards for some time
towards the north, seeking the entrance to the ascent of the Marwa ghat, the only
one leading to the plateau. The road, which is good and kept in order, would be
easily practicable for carriages if they could be conveyed across the Keyn. The
mountain here gives one the notion of a gigantic staircase, its sides being divided
into several storeys of small overlaying plateaux.
RECEPTION ON THE FRONTIER. 367

During the early part of the ascent the vegetation was poor and withered by
the sun; only a few large plane-trees, with their white candelabras, and some
small teak-bushes dotting the ravines; but as we got higher, especially when we
had attained an elevation of 400 feet above the plain, the vegetation became
abundant and vigorous, and assumed “a tropical character. Trees with enormous
trunks and thick foliage rose above an underwood of bamboos and plantains,
intermingled with creepers and runners, the mhowah, the mango-tree, the sal, and
several species of tulip plants; and everywhere depended long bunches of golden
or purple flowers and clusters of fruits. Troops of monkeys gambolled on the
high branches, in company with thousands of peacocks and birds of gay plumage ;
and ever and anon the thicket was noisily stirred by the deer. The road plunged
into these shades, whence it emerged again on a wall of naked rocks, commanding
alternately the beautiful plain we had just quitted, with the valley of the Keyn,
its fields and its villages, and the southern part of the chain, with its piles of
terraces, its forests, and all its network of ravines and defiles.

After an hour’s ascent we reached the ledge of the great upper plateau, where
a troop of Indians, accompanied by horses and elephants, occupied the middle of
the road ; being, in fact, the vukeels sent on by the Maharajah of Punnah to meet
us and to welcome us on the territory of his highness, and to escort us to the
capital. Accordingly in a small house close by they had prepared for us a repast
of milk, food, and confectionery. From this point the plateau slopes onwards very
slightly towards the west; the forest gets thinner, and opens on to a fine plain
interspersed with gardens, which extends as far as the capital, whose white domes
stand out in relief against a background of small red-coloured hills.

The difference between the temperature on the plateau and that of the valley
we had just left (which is only 1200 feet lower) was very marked. The cool air
agreeably distended the lungs, and one is easily tempted to brave the heat of the
sun with uncovered head. This, however should be carefully avoided, as the
effects of the sun’s rays are as fatal on the highest points, and even on the snows
of the Himalayas, as in the plains of Bengal or of the Deccan.

At a distance of a mile from the capital we perceived the dewan (prime
minister) of Punnah coming to meet us in an open carriage ; in which, dismounting
from our elephant, we took our places beside him, and were conducted to the camp
expressly prepared for us in a cool tope of mango-trees in proximity to the city.
A vast tent, covering a complete suite of apartments, drawing-room, dining-room,
and bed-chambers, had been specially reserved for us; and the furniture, though
simple, was comfortable and thoroughly European.

On alighting and following the dewan into this palace of canvas, our ears
caught the distant rumblings of the salute which announced our arrival in the
capital to the good citizens of Punnah. An English breakfast awaited us in the
dining-room ; and the dewan, after having installed us in our domain, discreetly
retired, wishing us a good appetite. Decidedly the palm for generous hospitality
must be rewarded to the Boundélas. I have already stated that we were indebted
for all these honours to the distinguished courtesy of the English authorities ;
and assuredly so gracious a reception was not due to our humble selves personally,
but rather was accorded to us in our capacity as French travellers.

Breakfast over, I took a turn round the camp, when I found that our people
had not been forgotten in the royal hospitality. Mussulmans and Hindoos were
368 INDIA.

abandoning themselves to the delights of a fairy banquet of pilau and curry, sent
to them from the Court.

Punnah is a town of great antiquity, owing its origin and its celebrity to the
diamond mines which surround it, and which are, perhaps, of the highest antiquity -
in all India; some even allege its identity with the Panassa of Ptolemy. Isolated,
however, as it is, on the summit of a tableland difficult of access, and encircled
by a mountainous region still in its native wildness, it has never occupied more
than a secondary rank among the cities of Central India. Since the grant of the
raj, or territory of Punnah, to Kishor Sing by the British Government in 1807,
however, its position has been ameliorated; and it now numbers about 20,000
inhabitants, including the workers in the mines. Its houses of freestone, built
with tolerable elegance, include several bazaars, irregularly grouped on undulat-
ing ground. It boasts of no monuments of any antiquity; but, by way of
amends, it possesses several temples and modern cenotaphs of a remarkable order.
The town itself rests on the adamantiferous soil which seems to extend over all
the eastern side of the plateau, and. the working of the mines begins at the
entrance to the suburbs.

In the afternoon we paid a short visit to the maharajah, whose palace has
quite a European stamp. It is a dwelling-place in the English style, containing
several fiat-roofed bungalows, surrounded with stuccoed colonnades, and broad
terraces connecting together the different pavalions. The interior itself has nothing
of the Indian type; and the saloon where the king received us was fitted up as a
study, with escritoire, bookcases, table, and easy-chairs. Moreover, we were
received with a homely simplicity that contrasted strongly with the ceremonial of
the morning. The dewan awaited us at the door of the palace, and conducted
us to the king, whom we found occupied in reading, and who advanced towards
us and received us with great affability. He is a stout man, with a jovial
countenance and features bronzed by the sun, and with none of the conventional
Asiatic arrogance of expression. Indeed, it is easy to see at a glance that,
understanding the position created for the rajahs of Bundeleund by English
dominion, he has preferred the character of a wealthy landed proprietor to
that of an insignificant princeling.

He wore the costume of the reformers of Bengal, the “ Young India” party—
cloth jacket and trousers, slightly embroidered, and a narrow-brimmed cap. The
heavy gold bracelets on the wrists and ankles alone reminded one that the rajah
is of the Rajpoot race; and to these may be added a magnificent necklace of
diamonds from his own mines, betraying the vanity of proprietorship. He is
decidedly a remarkable man. Well versed in English, and in two or three other
languages current in Hindostan, he possesses some notion of our practical
sciences, and governs his kingdom in a way that secures the esteem of all
Europeans.

With singular ial. at the time of the revolt of 1857 he did not hesitate
to send succour to the English, who were threatened in Bundeleund, and to him was
owing the relief of the garrison blockaded in Dumoh; which service the Supreme
Government rewarded by ceding to him some territory in Saugor and Bijawur.
He is the second king of Punnah, son of Kishor Sing, founder of the dynasty.
He is over fifty-five years of age, and has three sons, two of whom have attained
their majority.
e

THE DIAMOND MINE. 369

After a brief conversation he dismissed us, but not before making us engage
to devote some days to the inspection of his mines, his cutting workrooms, and
his cultivation of kitchen herbs, of which he is very proud, promising us in
compensation a day’s hunt in the foregt.

March 9th——The rajah sent a jemadar this morning to conduct us to the
diamond mines. ‘Twenty minutes’ walk across country, and we reached a small
plateau, covered with little heaps of pebbles, among which grew enormous clusters
of jessamine, whose myriads of blossoms embalmed the air. At the foot of a
knoll, slightly higher than the rest, stood some tatterdemalion soldiers; and on
the opposite side was a large open well, on the edge of which is fixed a noria
wheel, worked by four oxen. This was the diamond mine celebrated throughout
India; and the creaking of the wheel, and a few coolies passing to and fro carry-
ing baskets full of rubbish on their heads, constituted all that could be seen in
the way of operations in this important enterprise, to the production of an
irresistible impression of profound disappointment.

The body of the mine consists of a round shaft, from about thirty to forty
‘feet in diameter and sixty feet in depth. The alluvial soil it cuts through is
divided into horizontal layers one above the other, composed of fragments of gneiss
and carbonates, of an average thickness of thirty-five feet; and beneath this is
found the adamantiferous ore, a mixture of silex and quartz, lying in the middle
of a vein of red earth. To effect the working of the ore, a shaft is sunk on any
part of the plateau, and the fragments of ore that are met with are simply
extracted by hand.

Workmen descend to the level of the layer of ore by a sloping passage,
guarded by some soldiers. Half immersed in the water which the buckets of the
noria are insufficient to exhaust, they limit themselves to filling the straw baskets
with the clayey mixture, which is carried outside to be examined. A set of stone
troughs is ranged under a shed, and in these the ore is carefully washed; the
silicious residue being spread on a marble table, and consigned to the sorters,
who, with overseers watching them individually, examine the stones one by one,
dropping the refuse into a basket, and placing the diamonds aside. Much skill
is needed in this work of sorting, in the workman as well as in the overseer ; the
operation having to be executed with some rapidity, and the rough diamond being
with difficulty distinguished from amongst the silex, quartz, jasper, and hornstone
with which it is mixed.

This mode of working, it will be seen, is primitive enough; and it may be
safely asserted that no improvement has been introduced into it since the very
first discovery of the mines. Tradition relates that it was while digging a well
that some diamonds of a fabulous size were discovered in the soil, and the simple
process has since been adhered to. When the shaft is sunk, all the ore found at
the bottom of it is removed; it is then filled up again, and the, same operation 1s
recommenced farther on. This method is not only very costly, but it also
produces this lamentable result, that in excavating one square yard it is neces-
sary to displace a hundred; and thus the surface round it, twenty times more
considerable, is wasted. Besides this, the well itself is pierced on an extremely
primitive system, involving a great loss of time ; and it frequently happens that
the chosen spot does not contain a single particle of diamond ore. By reason of

the imperfection of the system pursued, these mines, which have-been worked for,
2A
370 INDIA.

twenty centuries, are still in an almost virgin state; and it is not too much to

say that, when the operations are conducted adequately, the results obtained will
be miraculous.

 

A DIAMOND MINE, PUNNAH.

The adamantiferous layer extends for a length of from twelve to twenty miles
to the north-east of Punnah. The most important mines, besides those of the
capital, are Myra, Etawa, Kamariya, Brijpoor, and Baraghari. It is very rarely,
DIAMOND.-CUTTING. 371

however, that any of these diamonds reach Europe. Those known here under
that name are, for the most part, Brazilian stones, which, after making the
journey to India, return thence with Indian cases and labels. The Punnah
diamonds are of great purity, and emig the most sparkling light; and their colour
varies from the purest white to black, passing through all the intermediate
shades—amilky, roseate, yellow, green, and brown. Their average weight does not
exceed five or six carats; but the Myra mine has produced one of forty-three
carats.

Notwithstanding all the disadvantages of the existing system of working, the
real revenue of the mines may be estimated at about double the official revenue ;
for, whatever may be the precautions taken, it is almost impossible, in a country
where corruption reigns amongst all classes, to prevent robbery in the mines to a
considerable extent.

The rajah sells his diamonds on his own account in Allahabad and Benares.
It is only a few years ago that he established workrooms in Punnah itself for
cutting the stones. Previous to that period the diamonds were sold in their
rough state. I do not suppose he can hope to rival the perfection of the Dutch
diamond-cutters ; but nevertheless the stones that come out of his workshops are
not to be despised. The diamond is cut and polished on a horizontal steel wheel,
laden with diamond-dust and oil, and put in motion by means of a pedal. The
workman holds the stone at the end of a sort of pencil-case, and presses it against
the wheel, so as to wear it off in facets. ‘The shapes that are the most highly
prized in the country are the rose, or the broad-faced brilliant. Generally
speaking, Indians care little for the numerous facets adopted in Europe.

March 10th.—To-day (Sunday), according to the English usage, we had to pay
respect to the Biblical rest; no explorings, no labours, under the penalty of being
looked upon as heretics. The king, however, sent us one of his carriages in the
course of the morning, for us to take a drive in the environs of the town. At
the foot of the hills which rise beyond the suburbs, a row of ponds, surrounded by
gardens, forms a delicious oasis, while numerous villas and some tombs lie hidden
beneath the thick cloak of verdure; and in one of these green avenues we met
with a young Boundéla noble, who invited us to visit his country house, situated
close by. It was a light stone pavilion, buried in a grove of pomegranate and
orange trees, in which a reservoir, with small canals, kept up an agreeable
coolness; and under the indented arcades of its verandah we partook of a light
repast, consisting solely of sweets, and an exquisite sherbet, composed of iced and
aromatised melons. .

The day passed as monotonously as possible; but in the evening, as a
compensation, the jungles to the east of the plateau presented the magnificent
spectacle of a conflagration. The close thickets obstructing the forest had been
fired; the clusters of bamboo flamed like bundles of fusees, and the burning
creepers hung from tree to tree in fantastic girandoles. These fires are very
frequent at this season of the year, being intentionally lighted by the Gounds.
The dryness of the underwood readily secures its combustion ; but the flames
rarely attack the trees that are full of sap; and the result simply is that this
imparts redoubled vigour to all this superfluous vegetation after the rains.

March t1th—-We had expected to start on a hunting excursion, but we have
been obliged instead to devote the day to examining the apartments of the palace,
jie INDIA.

and especially to admiring the royal kitchen-gardens, the king desiring to do the
honours of his plantations of cabbages and carrots in person. Nor let it be
supposed that the spectacle was indifferent to us. On the contrary, our eyes

 

THE RAJAH OF PUNNAH AND HIS SONS.

 

dwelt with pleasure on the rows of superb vegetables, of which our stomachs had
been so long deprived.

India is indeed poorly supplied with vegetables—a fact the more astonish-
ing that a considerable portion of the population lives on vegetable food. With
*

THE RAY¥AH’S LOCOMOTIVE. 373

the exception of two or three species of native vegetables, the Indian cultivates
little besides corn crops, rice, maize, wheat, barley, and millet forming the
chief substance of his food. Our European vegetables, however, grow perfectly
well, with irrigation, in many of the rggions of Hindostan; but up to the present
time they are the monopoly of the nobles or of the English. The potato alone
resists acclimatisation in these hot regions, and scarcely ever flourishes, excepting
on the high plateaux of the Nilgherris, the ghats, or the abutments of the Himalayas.
The absolute want of those vegetables which we consider indispensable for the
preservation of health, added to that of leavened bread, indeed, forms one of the
most intolerable privations of a long journey in the interior of India. The most
welcome present to the traveller therefore is the dali, or basket of vegetables and
fruits, which it is the custom to send as a token of welcome.

After our visit to the kitchen-gardens, the king expressed to me his wish to
have the portraits of himself and his sons taken. The apparatus accordingly was
conveyed to the palace, and I took a photograph which enables me to present the
reader with the likenesses of the royal family of Punnah.

March 12th.—To-day we started off to assist at the great hunt which has
been in preparation ever since our arrival. The place of meeting was at the
palace, where we found the king dressed in grey linen and wearing a hunting-cap,
which gave him the most comical look in the world. The preparations being all
complete, we issued from the palace, and on casting my eyes about for the escort,
carriages or horses designed for our conveyance, I perceived instead, in the centre
of the square, a road-locomotive, heated and ready to start. It was a small engine
which the king had obtained from Calcutta at a great expense, some years ago, to
enable him to present himself to his people in all the glory of modern civilisation ;
and his eyes sparkled with pride as he observed my astonishment. It was a
surprise he had reserved for me. However, we installed ourselves as best we
could in the narrow chariot hooked on behind the locomotive, which, after a
piercing whistle had been sounded, rushed off at full speed along the stuccoed
road which the king had made for his own especial use. Strange anomaly! To
set out on a tiger and panther hunt in one of the wildest regions of India, and
to be dragged along by a steam-engine. Imagine the stupefaction of those wild
Gounds—men scarcely advanced a step beyond the stony age—on seeing this
fiery chariot, with its plumes of smoke and its storm of sparks, advancing towards
their forest !

On the road, the king related to us all the mishaps which his wonderful
engine had already caused him. It was brought to him from Calcutta by an
English mechanic, who remained only a short time in his service. -After his
departure, no one being acquainted with its mechanism, it was left to rust until
an Indian, who had served as stoker on an English railway, came and offered to
manage it. He was appointed engineer to the king; but, on one of its first trials,
the engine, got up to a white heat by the intrepid Hindoo, set off, devouring space
with so much speed and uproar that the noble travellers, seized with panic, threw
themselves out of the chariot, and got covered with bruises; and it was well for
them that they did so, for about a hundred yards farther on the boiler exploded,
killing the unhappy engine-driver, who remained at his post. — Since that event
the engine has been repaired, and the king has had its machinery explained to
him, so that he may be able to superintend its operations.
374 INDIA.

The road along which the engine passed was narrow but well levelled. In
its construction they used a carbonate earth called kunker, obtained from the
banks of the Jumna, which has the peculiar property, when: once pounded and
mixed with water, of forming a composition of such great hardness that it would
even bear polishing like marble. The road broke off at a distance of a few miles
south of the town, on the borders of a small lake, where the king has one of his
summer residences; and there the elephants and the escort awaited us. Two
hours’ journey through those magnificent forests which we had already admired
on the banks of the Keyn brought us to the place of meeting for the hunt;
where we found a tent pitched for us, by the side of the pavilion reserved for
the king.

After breakfast, the king’s huntsmen brought us intelligence as to the probable
results of the hunt; they promised us wonders; but, in the absence of a tiger,
the great hunt had to be postponed to the next day. To-day, therefore, we had
to content ourselves with the hazardous luck of the thickets.

Letting the huntsmen disperse in search of the larger game, I set out alone
with a shikaree to kill a few green pigeons and birds of bright plumage that I
wanted to preserve. On my return, my guide induced me to visit a park of
elephants in the vicinity of our camp. It was a simple palisaded enclosure,
wherein about twenty young elephants were enclosed. The mahouts explained
to me the different methods of training to which they are subjected.

I need scarcely say that the royal corps de ballet followed us in our change
of place; for in this country there is neither festival nor ceremony in which
dancers and musicians do not take a part. In the evening, therefore, we had
the spectacle of a nautch by torchlight; when the great trees, whose dark depths
were revealed by the jets of flame, formed a scenic arrangement which the Royal
Academy of Music might well envy. It was truly a scenery befitting these
dances with their antique rhythms, and their bronzed dancers glittering with
gems.

While the nautchnis went through their classic répertoire before us, from the
dance of the Pandours to the “Taza-bi-Taza,” the king, who is a passionate lover
of hunting, narrated to us some of his cross-country exploits. I will record one
of these anecdotes, which does honour alike to the courage of this good prince (who
should not be mistaken for a mere worthless sham citizen) and to the filial devotion
of his son, the hereditary prince.

It is the custom in India for the princes and great nobles to venture on wild-
beast hunts only when surrounded by so many precautions that they scarcely run
a greater risk in killing a tiger than if they were aiming at him from the windows
of their palace. Like a true disciple of St. Hubert, however, the Rajah of Punnah
rejected all these precautions, and rejoiced in finding himself face to face with his
terrible adversary, and in trying his strength with him, without any other advan-
tage on his side than his own skill and coolness. In one of these encounters,
while he was, unattended, at the foot of a rock, awaiting a tiger that his hunting
scouts were driving towards him, the animal, already wounded, issued from a
thicket some paces off, sprang upon him, and overthrew him. The king’s life
was saved by the intervention of his eldest son, who, upon hearing his cries,
unhesitatingly rushed forward, threw himself upon the tiger, and despatched him
with blows from his dagger. From this terrible encounter the prince himself
HERD OF SAMBUR. 375

escaped with a few scratches. If we were to search the annals of India from
the remotest centuries, I think it would be difficult to find a similar instance of
devotedness ; an hereditary prince saving his father’s life, in a country where we
see so many chiefs struck down by the ambition of their successors.

This accident impressed the worthy monarch ; and, yielding to the persuasions
of his friends, he promised never to expose himself again so rashly. His lively
imagination, however, suggested to him a means of averting the danger, and at
the same time of keeping up the illusion. He directed the construction of a
cage with strong iron bars, and fixed upon wheels, iv which, while comfortably
seated, he could wait for the passage of the tiger, and strike him down with
impunity.

March 13th.—The ground included in the hdnkh formed a species of circus,
partly unwooded, to which the numerous ravines converge. The dry bed of a
torrent traversed its entire length, forming, as it issued from the valley, a narrow
defile embanked between high rocky walls; and this defile was the only outlet
left for the animals of the forest, who were thus compelled to pass under the
fire of the howdis ranged on either side of the rocks. The preparatory beating of
the woods had driven back all the game into the ravines which surrounded the
circus, and the beaters were now hemming in all the heights within a radius of
some miles. From early morn the shoutings and the noises of gongs and cymbals
roused the echoes of the forest. Not long after taking our post arrived the first
batch of animals; and they, evidently anticipating the danger in store for them
from our side, ran wildly from one ravine to another. Occasionally a wild boar
or a stag would attempt the passage; and, as we took our aim at them by turns,
some succeeded in escaping. After two hours of a massacre which continued to
increase in magnitude, the uproar approached us, and we perceived the Gound
beaters on the neighbouring heights gesticulating like demons. Suddenly a
rumbling noise, proceeding from the underwood round the circus, was heard above
all this uproar, and we seemed to be listening to a squadron of cavalry at full
gallop. The brushwood was violently sundered, and a herd of s&mbur issued
forth on to the sandy bed of the nullah.

The sAmbur is the great stag of India, and his size seems superior to that
of the common stag of Europe. The male has superb antlers, but the hind has
no horns. The coat is of a velvety brown on the back, and white under the belly.

The herd, numbering forty head, advanced towards us at full speed, making
the ground tremble under them; the males taking the lead with lowered heads.
I had barely time to cast even a glance at these superb animals, for in an instant
they were upon us. Shots were fired; but the herd cleared the defile, and were
lost to sight in the jungle—two stags, a hind, and one very young fawn being
left on the ground. Behind the simbur came, helter-skelter, troops of wild boars,
jackals, and hyenas, chased from their last intrenchments by our beaters, who
followed closely upon them, uttering savage yells; and, in a crisis like this, the
result of the hdnkh was enormous, reminding me of the famous massacre at Nahr-
mugra, in Oudeypoor; and, the battue over, the hunters hastily mounted their
elephants and started in pursuit of the wounded animals. Up to nightfall the
passes echoed with shots; and it was not until darkness set in that we all met
together round the bivouac.

March 15th.—Returned to Punnah, I resolved to leave my camp there, and
376 INDIA.

push on alone with Schaumburg, deviating northwards towards the fortresses of
Adjigurh and Kalleenjur.

We started on horseback, with four sowars accompanying us as guides; and,
leaving the road, which makes a considerable circuit, we followed the pathways
that intersect the forest, every moment having either to climb or to descend
giddy heights, and in some places finding the vegetation so luxuriant that our
horses could with difficulty open the way. At eight in the morning we caught
sight of the ramparts of Adjigurh, crowning the summit of a rock separated from
the chain by a deep defile; and we soon reached the foot of the ascent leading to
the fortress; seven half-ruined gates being ranged at graduated distances along
the acclivity. Arrived at the summit, we found ourselves surrounded by a
number of ruined edifices almost as considerable as those of Chittore: but, time
not permitting us to take a minute survey, we limited ourselves to visiting a very
fine group of Chandéla monuments, picturesquely situated on the borders of the
pool of Parmal; of which the most remarkable was a ruined edifice, half temple,
half palace, which our guide pointed out to us under the name of Parmal Ka-Baitké,
or the seat of the King of Parmal.

The principal edifices of Adjigurh date from the Chandéla period. Many of
them are attributed to Parmal Brihm, last king of the dynasty of the Chandéla
Rajpoots (1180). It is probable that, being driven out of the plain by the
Chohans of Delhi, he transferred his capital to Adjigurh; but the fortress had
existed already several centuries previously. Before leaving the town, we took
a glance at a very fine Jain temple containing a monolith Tirthankar more than
four feet high; and we continued our road through the woods as far as Kalleenjur,
which we reached in the full heat of the day, after a three hours’ ride.

The fortress of Kalleenjur is one of the most celebrated in the valley of the
Ganges. Long considered as impregnable, it was besieged by the English on
January 19th, 1812. They established their batteries on one of the buttresses
of the hill, called Kalinjari, whose position recalls to mind the small plateau of
Chittore, so fatal to the ancient capital of Meywar, and thence they were able
to bombard the fortress, until it was compelled to surrender after a severe
struggle.

The date of the foundation of Kalleenjur is unknown; but it is certain that
the hill on which it rests was looked upon as sacred from a remote period of
antiquity. Here, as at Gwalior, the abundance of the springs and the wild aspect
of the spot attracted to it, at an early period, the Jains, as the worshippers of
Dharma, or Uncreated Nature. They hewed for themselves recesses in the rocks,
which the piety of their descendants surrounded with temples and sumptuous
edifices; and the wants of the pilgrims brought about the creation of a city,
which, some centuries after, was transformed by one of the sovereigns into a
fortress. This fact is abundantly proved by the numerous antique sculptures
which are discovered in the foundations of the ramparts themselves.

Two ascents formerly led to the tableland of the plateau; but that on the
north, the most important, is the only one now practicable; and along it runs a
battlemented wall, interrupted at equal distances by fortified gates, seven in
number (which seems to be the sacred number). The first of these gates is a
triumphal arch raised by the Emperor Aurungzeb, in the seventeenth century ; the
others date from the foundation of the citadel. The ascent reminded me of that
KALLEENGUR. 377

of Gwalior; there was the same abundance of monuments, of reservoirs sunk deep
in the mountain, of bas-reliefs and sculptures.

Following the roadway which turns off to the left of the northern gate, we
came up first with a little excavationghewn out of the rock. This is the Siva-
Koti, or the chamber of Siva; the interior of which consists of a small square
room, with a flat ceiling; the sole ornament of the walls being shelved niches,
sculptured in the rock itself, exactly similar to those one sees in the modern houses
in India, which are used instead of cupboards. On one of the sides is a block
sculptured in the form of a bed, representing the couch of the god; and a small
door leads to a court, containing a pool of water and several sculptures.

This excavation may be taken as the type of fifty or sixty others to be found
on the hill; and its simplicity, and the total absence of idols, proved that it must
have been used as a dwelling-place by one of the earliest anchorites who came to
inhabit the hill, and it was probably not dedicated to Siva until near the tenth
century.

Our guide lighted a torch, and we followed him down a damp tube-like
passage. Half-way down, a ray of light pierces the wall, and through an opening
in it we saw the plain which extends at the foot of Kalleenjur; and it was easy
to calculate that the staircase corresponded with the external surface of the
plateau, separated from it by a small interval; and beyond this opening forty
steps more brought us to the entrance of a cavern. It is obvious that this cavity
is a natural one, and that man has added nothing to it. It is filled nearly to its
arched roof with water, which filters drop by drop through the crust of the plateau,
and wonderful properties are attributed to this water for the cure of leprosy and.
skin-diseases, as well as of mental affections.

We only reached Punnah on the day following, when, not to delay our
departure any longer, we hurried to pay our farewell visit to the maharajah ; who
received us with his usual simplicity of manner, and presented each of us with a
handsome ring set with a diamond obtained from his mines and cut in his own
workrooms.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
FROM PUNNAH TO REWAH.

Nagound.—Departure of the Scindian Escort.—A Hunt in the English Style.—The Rajah of
; Dourjunpore.—Rewah.

pragae ARCH 18THW—We left Punnah very early in the morning,
mounted on one of the rajah’s elephants, our people having
gone on before.
; The road to Rewah, which we now followed, strikes out
aa ieebaAa’ from the plateau by the south-east passes. The slope on this
ee" side is much less abrupt than towards the Keyn: the ground
rises at first, forming a chain of mounds of middling height, and then descends in
a succession of gentle slopes to the plain. The vegetation presented a less strik-
ing character ; the woods were thinner, and interspersed with spaces, either barren
_or covered with low jungle. Feathered game was to be found in abundance, and
from the back of our elephant we brought down jungle-fowls, peacocks, and even
rock-pigeons and black partridges of rather a rare species.

Towards seven o'clock we entered on a magnificent plain, perfectly bare, and
bounded on the south by a line of blue heights. This plain forms the Jower
layer of the great group of plateaux, covering Central India, which continues
piling up its tablelands from the valley of the Ganges to the highest point of the
Vindhyas of Bhopal and of Mandoo; and it advances towards the north as far as
the Jumna, which it overhangs with a line of vertical slopes, whence the streams
which water it descend.

The Maharajah of Punnah was anxious that we should be escorted up to this
point by one of his sirdars, who now quitted us only after having made the chief
of the village deliver to us all the necessary provisions for our use.

In the course of the evening we decided on starting for Nagound, from which
place we were still distant eight good leagues. Half-way on our march we
crossed the frontier line of the states of Punnah to enter upon those of Nagound;
and, owing to the slow pace of our elephant, it was midnight before we reached
the little capital; when we were conducted to the dak bungalow, which we found
provided with beds and furniture, which, if not sumptuous, at least were comfort-
able. We soon discovered that we owed it to the Rajah of Nagound that we
were not compelled to sleep upon the bare floors, for it seems the English
Government declines to furnish this bungalow, which is only occasionally used.
The prince, therefore, on hearing of our expected arrival, had the habitation put
into a fit state for our reception. There can be no doubt that the Boundélas
understand hospitality.

 
  
NAGOUND. a0

Nagound is the capital of one of the smallest principalities of Bundeleund.
Tt is a large village, void of interest, but in a good position in the centre of the
plain, at an equal distance from the mountainous region and the Jumna; and its
houses—for the most part of katcha, that is, mud mixed with straw—form several
large clean streets. Outside the town a small fort, standing on a mount, encloses
the king’s palace. It derives a certain degree of animation and some prosperity
from the establishment of
an English military station
in its neighbourhood, com-
posed of two regiments and
one battery of artillery.
It was completely razed to
the ground in 1857 by the
rebels, who massacred the
garrison.

Unfortunately we
learned on arriving that
Mr. Coles was absent on a
circuit, so that we should
have to await his return
to Nagound; but, however
cheerless the prospect was,
we had to resign ourselves
to it. For two months
past our escort had been
that provided for us by
the Maharajah Scindia at
Gwalior; and, although
given to us for an indefinite
term, it would be imposing
on courtesy to retain these
people any longer, especially
as they have a long return
journey to make; besides
which, we had already lost
two of the camels that had
been confided to us, the
country gradually becoming
unfavourable to these ani-
mals, and it was more than
time to send them back.
But we had to face a serious
difficulty,How are we to THE RAJAH OF NAGOUND.
replace them, the country
being destitute of all means of transport, and the Agent’s influence alone being
capable of procuring it for us? All these reasons combined, therefore, compelled
us to wait, although Nagound is an insignificant place, and the rainy season was
fast approaching.

 
380 INDIA.

The day following our arrival the rajah sent us two moonshees to appoint the
time for an interview; and they were followed by a row of servants carrying
presents of every description—sweets, fruits, fowls, and kids.

At two o’clock we proceeded to the palace, if such may be styled the rajah’s
residence, which is a simple bungalow, with tiled roofing, surrounded with wooden
verandahs, and placed in the centre of a bastioned enclosure. The rajah awaited
us on the flight of steps at the entrance, and received us with great affability.
He was an old man, with a smiling countenance and unaffected manners, and,
conversing freely with us, he did the honours of his simple dwelling-place in
person. He is said to be intelligent, energetic, and very watchful over the
interests of his tiny kingdom.

On returning to our bungalow nothing remained for us to do but to lay ina
stock of patience, and await the arrival of Mr. Coles.

This little station contained no more than fifteen Europeans, between officers
and functionaries ; but, when one leaves the jungle, nothing is so appalling as the
visits every stranger is expected to make on his arrival at an English ‘station.
Anglo-Indian etiquette obliges him to put on a black coat, collar, and cravat, and
brave the heat of the sun at one o’clock in the day. We therefore kept to our
bungalow, in the hope of escaping unobserved; but two travellers are far too
great a godsend in these wild regions to be allowed to break the rules in such a
way. After having expected our visit for a whole day, the officers sent their
senior to us, General B , who reproached us most courteously with our
unsociableness, and carried us off with him to the mess, where we were saluted
with no less kindly reproaches; and they managed so well that our stay at
Nagound remains one of the most pleasant souvenirs of my journey.

During the day we hunted the tiger and the sémbur in the neighbouring
mountains, our guide being General B , the most intrepid hunter in Central
India. The tigers he has killed may be reckoned by hundreds; and as to bears,
panthers, and the rest, he is himself ignorant of their number. He made us visit
his house, a thorough museum, the walls of which were hidden entirely by hunting-
trophies, while before the entrance stood the whitened skeleton of an enormous
elephant. The most curious object in his collection was a tiger-skin, thrown over
the back of a buffalo, and covering it completely. It belonged to a royal tiger of
prodigious size, which the general had killed in the neighbourhood of Nagound.
This brave hunter, after so brilliant a career, was destined in the year following
our visit to fall a victim to a terrible accident. While hunting near Nagound, in
company with the Prince of Schleswig-Holstein, he was seized by a tiger, which
shattered his thigh to pieces.

The evening found us assembled round the mess-table with our kind hosts,
whereat France was acclaimed by toasts in honour of our army and our flag; and
the first streaks of daylight often surprised us with the aspect of a regular battle-
field, where lay battalions of sparkling hock and champagne. Mr. Coles, too, had
been back several days, and yet we no longer thought of starting; indeed, he
insisted on our devoting some days to himself.

Even he could procure for us only two carts drawn by five oxen apiece, and
this only as far as Rewah; so that we were compelled to retain our Punnah
elephant. When I had completed our preparations I dismissed our Gwalior
escort. These good fellows, who had followed us so faithfully, were drawn up in

 

 
SUNSTROKE. wee

a row before the bungalow ; and 1 addressed a little speech of thanks to them, and
gave each of them a few rupees, remitting at the same time a letter to the jemadar
which would convey a report of their good conduct to the maharajah. Their
farewells were most affecting. Each man advanced to embrace our knees, and
taking our hand, which he placed on his forehead, addressed us as Mé-Béap,*
signifying that we have been yood masters to them. At last the line was formed,
and the caravan departed; but the “Salaam!” of the poor fellows still reached
our ears. We saw the quiet, patient camels which had carried us for three years
gradually disappear ; and reflected that they were the last we should see in India,
for their race is almost unknown in the eastern regions.

Our stay at Nagound was thus prolonged until the 24th March, when we lett
it on a lovely morning, mounted on our elephant. The road still bore towards the
south-east, running parallel with the mountains for a short distance, and then re-
entering a fertile country studded with large villages.

In spite of the heat, which had become stifling, we were compélled to continue
our journey several miles farther to reach our encampment near Dourjanpore.
I arrived at the camp half dead, and suffering from sunstroke ; my ears buzzing,
my sight failing me, and my tightly closed lips scarcely allowing me to breathe.
Iwas removed from off my elephant in a state of insensibility, from which I
recovered by the agency of small doses of brandy and wet bandages applied in
bed. For this once, at all events, I escaped simply with a fright. We had
committed an imprudence which often results fatally, in travelling for seven hours
fully exposed to the intense heat of the sun; which in these regions may be said
to have the sudden action of lightning, for men are struck by it with a rapidity
only equalled by electricity. Sometimes the patient lingers several months, and
succumbs at length, medicine having no power to stay the progress of the disease ;
but almost invariably a sunstroke is immediately followed by death. The only
remedy, on first becoming sensible of the attack, is to plunge the head at once
into water; when the danger ceases directly.

Our tents were grouped together under the thick foliage of a small wood,
across which coursed a pleasant stream that passes on through the town; and the
shade and the coolness of the water restored me completely, so that I felt capable
of continuing the journey.

In the evening the rajah’s favourite elephant made us spectators of his sports
while taking his bath in the stream, which his gambols almost caused to overflow;
and after the bath his mahout made him lie down on the bank, while, with a
paint-brush, he daubed him over with an oily mixture resembling polish. This
process is adopted to prevent the skin of the elephant from getting dry and
cracking during the great heats; and it is through ignorance of this indispensable
precaution that we always see the elephants in our Zoological Gardens presenting
so pitiable a sight.

We had many more miles to travel before reaching Rewah ; but our horses were
so worn out with the heat that the only resource left us is the Punnah elephant,
which poor beast also was so exhausted that we could not hope to accomplish more
than three miles an hour. We start, therefore, at midnight, so that we might be
deposited at our destination before the heat set in; and, not to lose the night's
rest entirely, I had a bed placed on the back of the elephant, on which we almost

* Ma-Bap literally means “ mother-father.”
a8 INDIA.
succeeded in finding comfort. When once reclining, with eyes closed, it is easy
to imagine oneself on board a vessel, the pitching and rolling of which the regular
swinging movement of the elephant exactly reproduces ; and when the early streaks
of dawn aroused us, we heartily agreed that this sleeping on an elephant was not
so very intolerable. During the night we had crossed a great bare plain; now the
ground, while still continuing even, formed large undulations; the country was
green, and dotted at intervals with large trees; the mountains of Punnah had
completely disappeared; and all that could be seen on the horizon was a pale blue
line, formed by the crests of the Kaimoors.

The road we took was well kept, and the trees formed a shady avenue above
it; and peasants’ carts and groups of workmen, following the same road as our-
selves, were signs of our proximity to the capital. The road broke off abruptly
on the edge of a precipice, beneath which bubbled the waters of the Beher; and,
a little higher up, a vertical wall of rocks barred the whole breadth of the bed of
the river, which, clearing this obstacle, forms an entire sheet of crystal, thirty feet
in height, which tumultuously dashes into the midst of a chaos of broken rocks,
from which it springs upwards again in clouds of foam. Overhanging the cataract,
the banks were perfectly perpendicular, and seemed to be crowned with temples
and gardens.

A steep road which leads downwards into the bed of the river, is continued
beneath its surface, thus facilitating the passage of the ford.

At a short distance from the opposite shore we found an excellent bungalow,
of a type until now unknown to us. It was modelled on the plan of establish-
ments of the same kind in Bengal, and contained several well-furnished suites of
apartments; and the English Government undertakes to maintain it, claiming only
one rupee per day from each traveller for his lodging. A peon, acting both as
guard and cook, is attached to it; and the frugal breakfast which he served us up,
and the good fold-up bedsteads, soon made us forget the fatigues of these two
successive journeys.
CHAPTER XXXVII.

BOGELCUND.

Bogeleund, its Extent, Limits, and History.—Legend of the Baghélas.— Bandougurh.—Character
of the Population.—The Dewan.—Rewah.—Its Palace——A Royal Speech.—Cataract of the
Tons.

SI OGELCUND, or Baghélakhound, constitutes, under the name
of Rewah, one of the most important independent states of
Eastern Hindostan. It occupies a surface of 9827 square
miles, and its population is estimated at 1,200,000. It
is enclosed between the provinces of Allahabad, Mirzapore,
Bundeleund, Korea and Saugor, and Nerbudda.

Geographically speaking, it comprises the whole of the plateau which sepa-
rates the Ganges from the source of the Nerbudda. The Kaimoor Mountains
cross it from south-west to north-east, dividing it into two slopes; and they form
a chain of not very conspicuous elevation, although some of their highest points
attain a height of 1500 feet. This chain unites the group of the Rajmahal
Mountains to the Vindhyas.

The northern slope forms part of the valley of the Ganges; it is a low
plateau, of extreme fertility, having a large population, almost exclusively Hindoo,
of gentle and industrious habits, and devoted to agricultural pursuits.

The southern slope forms the valley of the upper current of the Sdéne; the
ground is very irregular, and covered with forests and wilds extending as far as
Sumbulpore. This region, which is down to the present day almost entirely
unknown, must have served as a last place of refuge for the aboriginal races
which were found settled on Indian soil at the period of the first invasions; and,
if the theory be valid, it is here that we should meet with representatives of that
race of blacks, of the type termed negritto, which were the origin of the primary
race of the peninsula. The mass of the population is composed of Gounds, who
also present us, in greater purity than the Bheels, the type of the Sudra race,
which preceded the Aryan invasions. We shall presently have an opportunity of
studying this interesting tribe more closely.

The mere fact that, even up to the present day, it is as difficult for the
Hindoos of the plain as for Europeans to become acclimatised in this region of
Goundwana, affords abundant proof that these races which inhabit it are the
original natives, or have at least been settled there for thousands of years. The
forests which overspread it are infested with wild beasts, and all access to them is

 
384 INDIA.

still more surely prevented by the terrible malaria exhaled from their gloomy
depths.

The history of Bogelcund, so far as concerns that part of it occupied by the
land of the Gounds, is still enveloped in mystery. The northern provinces
formed part of the classic land of the philosophic religions of India; and it is
also known that the first Hindoo poems connected the Amar Kantak with the
great forest of Dundaka, which was regarded by the Aryans as the haunt of
demons and fabulous animals.

About the twelfth or thirteenth century a clan of Rajpoot-Shaloukyas took
possession of all the valley of the Séne, and gave it the name of Baghélakhound,
or land of the Baghélas; which the English, with their system of Indian ortho-
graphy, have transformed into its present name of Bogelcund.

The Shaloukya dynasty of the Souryavansi family reigned in Anhulwara
Patan from 1172 to 1294; when it was overthrown by Aladdin the Bloody,
Emperor of Delhi It is therefore probable that it was after the fall of their
empire that the Baghéla clan of the Shaloukyas found themselves compelled to
seek a new territory in the wild regions of Goundwara.

This supposition does not, however, agree with the tradition preserved at
Rewah, which explains the formation of the Baghéla tribe by the following
legend :-—

“ About seven hundred years ago a prince of the illustrious family of the
Shaloukyas reigned at Pélgurh, in Goojerat. He had already had one son, when
the gods were pleased to send him a second. At the birth of the young prince,
the oracles were consulted, according to custom; and great was the terror of the
rajah on learning that this child would one day be the cause of great wars and
disturbances in India. At his command the infant was abandoned in a neigh-
bouring forest infested by wild beasts. Some time afterwards, a holy Rishi,
passing by Palgurh, and hearing of the circumstance, resolved to find out what
had become of the body of the little prince. To his infinite surprise: he dis-
covered the child in a cavern, whither he had been carried by a tigress, who had
nourished him with her milk. The king, learning the miraculous manner in
which his son had been preserved, caused him to be brought back again to his
Court, and gave him the name of Baghéla, or son of the tigress. When he had
attained his majority, the young prince, renouncing all his rights, abandoned his
father’s Court, accompanied by a few faithful followers, and, after endless adven-
tures and innumerable combats, took possession of a vast kingdom, and established
his capital at Bandougurh.”

As the legend relates, the first capital of the Bogelcund was Bandougurh (the
closed city); which appellation it lost only at the commencement of the present
century, when the seat of government was transferred to Rewah.

It occupies a very strong position on the banks of the Sdne, to the south of
the Kaimoors, but it is now completely deserted. According to the accounts
given by the natives, it is a wonderful city, rivalling Ambir and Chittore in the
magnificence of its palaces and monuments: but it is difficult to ascertain the
exact amount of truth in these descriptions, because all access to the ancient
capital is jealously forbidden to Europeans, and not a single traveller, that I am
aware of, has ever yet penetrated its precincts. Notwithstanding the friendship
of the King of Rewah, I could not obtain the privilege of visiting it.
REWAH. 385

The kingdom of Rewah has been allied to the Indo-Britannic confederation
since the year 1812. The king recognises the supremacy of the Empress of
India. On the other hand, he is absolute sovereign in his states, the integrity
of which is guaranteed to him by England, and he owes no tribute of any
description.

The king’s revenues are small, considering the extent of his possessions ; they
scarcely exceed £200,000. This result must be attributed to the system of
tenancy employed throughout the whole kingdom. The Government is satisfied
with the contributions of the farmers, while these latter extort all they can from
the population. And yet, with the exception of the trans-Kaimooric zone, the
whole of the country is rich, and must yield large returns.

The army of Rewah consists of two or three regiments only, but with the corps
of the Purdasees and the Sebundees exceeds eight thousand men.

I have already stated that the population of the northern provinces is prin-
cipally Hindoo. The different castes have preserved their customs here in great
purity—a fact easily explained if we reflect on their proximity to Allahabad and
Benares, the sanctuaries of Brahminism. Nevertheless, a great number of Brah-
mins are found in the country who have abandoned the priesthood for agricultural
pursuits.

The Baghélas and some other clans represent the Kshatriya race, to which the
king and all the nobles of the kingdom belong; and these Rajpoot tribes, not-
withstanding their distance from the central branch, have faithfully kept up the
common manners and customs; their contact with the effeminate populations of
Bengal only depriving them of some of that pride, and perhaps that valour, which
characterised their brethren of the desert.

The commerce of the country is in the hands of the Jains and Vaishnavas of
Behar, who form with those of Bengal the powerful order of the Baboos. In the
southern provinces the heights are peopled by the Gounds, and the valleys by the
Goundas, a half-caste between the Rajpoots and Gounds, the Kolees and the
Hindoos. To the north of the Kaimoors, the climate is healthy, and the atmo-
sphere constantly agitated by winds and storms; towards the south, the tempera-
ture is unequal, cold in winter, suffocating in summer, and deadly in May and
October. ee

On my departure from Nagound, Mr. Coles had given me a khureeta * for the
Maharajah of Rewah ; this I caused to be taken to the palace on our arrival at
the bungalow. :

In the course of the day the dewan arrived in great state, sent by the king
to present his salaams and with a view to obtaining some information respecting
us. All the courtesy of the minister did not prevent me from discovering that
our presence caused him uneasiness; the fact of our being Frenchmen surprised
him considerably, and he scarcely knew what to think of the protection which
seemed to be accorded to us by the English authorities. 1 am fully persuaded.
that, without the khureeta of the Agent, the minister would have prevented us
from seeing the king. At last, after long tergiversations, and at the very
moment of taking leave, he informed us that the maharajah would expect us at
his palace to-morrow at four o’clock. Shortly afterwards a royal choubdar

* Khureeta, an official letter of recommendation, written upon parchment or a particular kind of

paper, and enclesed in a sachet of embroidered silk, sealed with the Agency seal. 26
386 INDIA.

brought a basket of fruit, and informed us that by the king’s order an elephant
was to remain attached to our service during the period of our stay.

The town, which extends about half a mile beyond the bungalow, along the
Beher, crowns a little height, which gave it at first a picturesque appearance;
but, on approaching nearer, we passed by creviced and ruined ramparts, and
entered upon a labyrinth of crooked narrow streets, bordered by houses of a
wretched style of architecture, most of them having walls composed of wattles,
and occasionally of dried mud, with roofings of irregularly laid tiles,—a vast
difference from the fine towns of Western India, with their solid stone walls, their
terraces, and their elegant colonnades. The contrast even becomes still more
striking as you advance towards the east; for example, at Moorshedabad, and
even in Calcutta, the native dwelling-places are no better than huts,

What most excited our surprise at Rewah was to see the bazaars almost.
deserted, the more so as the town contains at least eight thousand souls, and.is
the principal market-place of a wealthy district. It suffers much from the
absence of the Court, which followed the king to his favourite residence at
Govindgurh. Outside the town lies the aristocratic suburb, surrounded by an
enclosure, and comprising the palace, the courtiers’ houses, the barracks, and a
few bazaars; even here, however, there were the same sadness and solitude. At
the time fixed upon for our interview with the king, we proceeded to the palace,
which extends its hybrid facades along a courtyard, on to which open the stables
for the cavalry. The dewan received us at the entrance, and conducted us to the
hall of the durbar, a vast apartment, the walls of which were hidden by a pro-
fusion of gilding, incrustations in coloured glass, and ornaments of every descrip-
tion, in the style of the Sheesh Mahal, already described. Glass lustres hung
from the ceiling, which was painted to represent tapestry ; the teak-wood columns
of the verandah were chequered with bright colours; and at the end of the hall
was raised the throne, which consisted of an enormous velvet cushion, placed
against a monumental back, and supported by two golden lions, The ensemble
of this hall was not wanting in a certain degree of originality, and it must pro-
duce a fine effect when lighted up by the lustres.

The maharajah, who had not yet arrived, was coming from Govindgurh
expressly to see us, and would return immediately afterwards. The hours passed
by, and darkness began to invade the hall, when suddenly the doors opened, and
servants entered carrying torches, followed by the choubdars, who made their
gold sticks ring upon the pavement with the sacramental words, “ Maharaj!
Salaam !”

The king on entering advanced straight towards us. I was impressed at once
by his superb stature; yet his height of six feet and his proud countenance did
not suffice to impart majesty to his costume, which from turban to slippers was
of the purest canary tint of yellow; this was, however, the seasonable colour, the
Holi festival being on; and a fillet of the same shade, that covered his beard
completely and his face partially, aggravated the singularity of his equipment.
But, notwithstanding, it was easy for me to discover that I no longer had to deal
with the easy-going princes of Punnah and Nagound, but with a real Rajpoot,
fully sensible of all the importance of his rank and power.

Even here, however, the Rajpoot has had the finishing touches of civilisation ;
and the aristocratic manners of the Court of Oudeypoor have given place to those
THE KING OF REWAH. 387

of Calcutta. Having seated us beside him, the king addressed to us, in the
purest English, a discourse evidently prepared beforehand, in which, after em-
phatically expressing the pleasure he felt in seeing us, he represented that it was
the duty of a sovereign to load with honours those men of letters and artists who
came to study the beauties and resources of his country ; and on my communicat-
ing my astonishment at hearing him speak English so perfectly (which I knew
would gratify him), he answered me in these ors, which I cannot refrain from
reproducing in full :—

“ Without a knowledge of English an Indian prince must remain in ignorance
of the least progress of civilisation. Constantly hearing matters spoken of which
he cannot understand, and himself unable to seek for science in books, he is
compelled to follow in the beaten track left by his ancestors, with all its accom-
paniments of oppression and barbarity; and, unless possessed of more than
ordinary talents, he can only incur the disfavour of the Imperial government, and
finally the loss of his kingdom, If, on the contrary, he can personally keep pace
with the progress of European opinion, he is sure to be encouraged and supported,
and will thus succeed in bettering the condition of his subjects, and in increasing
his revenues.”

What can be said of sentiments so eloquently expressed? Unfortunately for
Rewah they are mere words.

This discourse was followed by the inevitable interrogatories about France, its
geography, its political and material importance, its government, and the like
topics. It was at a very late hour that the wtterpdn was brought; when the
king crowned us with garlands and invited us to come and spend some days at
Govindgurh. In short, it was the only way left to us for obtaining from the
king the means of continuing our long journey towards Bhopal.

“Before leaving Rewah, we visited the celebrated falls of the Tons, which are
situated some ae to the north, near the road to Allahabad. The river, on
reaching the limits of the plateau, dashes down from a height of four hundred feet
into the plain; and a magnificent landscape serves as a framework to this cataract,
the only one of any importance existing in Northern India.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
GOVINDGURH.

Mukunpore.—The Mhowah and its Properties—The Wolves.—Govindgurh, the Palace and the
Town.—First Hunting-Excurzion.—The Houdi and the Tiger,—Visit of the King.—The
Panther.—Battues in the Kairmoors.—The Valley of the Séne.—The Bundars, or Men-Apes,
The Djangal.—The “ Tofan.”’—The King’s Kutchery.

“N the 28th of March, accepting the Maharajah’s invitation, we
set out for Govindgurh, eleven miles distant from Rewah, at the
foot of the Kairmoors.

The country to the south of the capital presented a far
more cheerful appearance than towards the north and the west.

= The soil seemed covered with a fertile mould, and we no
longer met with those beds of sandstone whose level surfaces form small deserts
in the midst of the plains of Tons. The villages, too, displayed themselves
coquettishly on little heights, always adjoining a pretty jheel, and some cool
groves of mango-trees.

About half-way on our road we passed through the small town of Mukunpore,
which was for a short time the capital of the kingdom, before the occupation of
Rewah. The Holi was still being celebrated here; the streets were filled with
noisy crowds; and on the banks of a magnificent pool of water was raised the
obscene idol of Holica. The festival was held around it; and, to hear the cries,
of the mountebanks and the priests, the uproar of voices, and the piercing sound
of the reed flutes, which almost resemble the merliton (or reed-pipes), one could
imagine oneself at some féte in the environs of Paris.

On leaving Mukunpore the country changed its aspect; the ground rising in
sudden undulations, broken by ravines which ran surging on to the foot of the
Kairmoors, whose declivities now came into sight. Forests succeeded to the
cultivated ground, but they are almost entirely composed of productive trees, dye-
wood, fig-trees, and mhowahs.

I have not yet spoken of the mhowah, the tree pre-eminently belonging to
Central India, and having the same connection with these wild regions as the
cocoa-tree to the banks of the Indian Ocean. Providence has endowed it with
such wonderful properties that it supplies the primitive inhabitants of these
plateaux with all that the most industrious nations have obtained from the whole
united vegetable world.

The mhowah or mahwah (Cassia latifolia) is one of the finest trees of the
Indian forests. Its straight trunk, of immense diameter, bears its branches

 
THE MHOWAH. 389

arranged with regularity, and gracefully raised like the sconces of candelabra ;
and its dark green foliage spreads itself in dome-shaped storeys, casting a thick
shade all around it. Towards the end of February its leaves fall almost suddenly,
leaving the tree completely bare. The natives pick up these leaves, which they
use for many purposes, such as bedding, roofing, and head-coverings. Within a
few days of shedding their leaves, the candelabra become covered with astonishing
rapidity with masses of flowers, resembling small round fruit, and arranged in
clusters. These flowers are the heavenly manna of the jungle, and on their
greater or lesser abundance depends the prosperity or the misery of the whole
country. The petal, of a pale yellow colour, forms a thick fleshy berry, of the
size of the grape, which leaves room for the stamen to pass through a small
aperture; and, when fully ripe, this petal falls naturally. The Indians simply
attend to removing the brushwood from around the tree, and every evening the
fallen flowers form a thick bed, which is carefully collected. This shower
continues several days; and each tree produces on an average a hundred and
twenty-five pounds weight of flowers.

When fresh, this flower-fruit has a sweetish flavour, rather pleasant to” the
taste; but to this is added a musky, acrid, and almost sickening odour. The
natives nevertheless consume great quantities of it in this state, and they also
employ it in the manufacture of cakes, and in different sorts of nourishing food.
But the greater part of the crop is dried on osier screens. This operation causes
the fruit to lose its unpleasant flavour; it is afterwards made up into loaves, or
reduced to flour. By fermentation the mhowah flower produces a wine of an
agreeable taste, that must, however, be drunk while new; and by distillation a
strong brandy is obtained from it, which is considered by the Indians as the
most precious production of the tree, and which, when old, may challenge com-
parison with good Scotch whiskey. From the residue of the flowers a good
vinegar also is derived.

As soon as the flowers have disappeared, the foliage returns, and rapidly
covers the tree again; and then, in the month of April, comes the fruit to replace
the flowers, The fruit of the mhowah is of the same shape, but a little larger
than the fruit of our almond-tree. The shell is of a violet-tinted colour, covering
a smooth, hard, and woody envelope, in which is found a fine almond; which is
of a milk-white colour, with a delicate and rather oily taste. The Indians use it
for cakes and pastes, and by a simple pressure extract from it an excellent eating
oil, while the refuse serves for fattening buffaloes. This oil is already in large
demand in the commerce of Bombay, and promises to become a fruitful branch of
the export trade of the country. Finally, to wind up this enumeration of the
wonderful properties of the mhowah, let me add that its bark yields a woody fibre
used for making rough ropes, and its wood—easy to cleave, though uneven in
the grain—is invaluable in the construction of huts, as it resists the attacks of
the white ant.

Making a rapid summary of the preceding lines, we see that the mhowah
supplies a nutritious food in its flowers and fruit, besides yielding wine, brandy,
vinegar, oil, a textile material, and valuable timber for building. It will not,
therefore, be a matter of surprise that in the Vindhyas and the Aravalis it should
be ranked by the inhabitants as equal to the Divinity. The Gounds, Bheels,
Mhairs, and Mynas owe their existence to it. They hold their meetings beneath
Bae INDIA,

its shade, and under it they celebrate all the important events of life. On its
branches they suspend their rude votive offerings, lance-heads or ploughshares ;
and around its roots they spread those mysterious circles of stones which supply
the place of idols to them. They will fight, therefore, with the energy of despair
in defence of their mhowahs; and where the mhowahs disappear, the Bheel and
the Gound are seen no more. This precious tree is occasionally planted and
cultivated in the plain, but it grows naturally in the mountains.

At four o’clock we reached a fine mukkam, about half a mile distant from
Govindgurh ; where our camp was spread over a narrow glade, above which
mango-trees and mhowahs formed a dome of verdure. A little farther on began
the slope of the mountain, stretching on an imperceptible angle in a smooth

 

SUMMER PALACE OF THE MAHARAJAH OF REWAH, GOVINDGURH.

acclivity to its summit; and, on the opposite side, a deep ravine, the bottom of
which forms a small lake, separated us from Govindgurh.

Our people and baggage, transported by four elephants, arrived an hour after
us; and, while they were unloading the animals, I walked beneath the shade of
the mhowahs, whose branches were being pillaged by a tribe of langours. While
so engaged, I observed the approach of a wretched-looking, mangy, bald-coated
dog. Not caring for his company, I flung a stone at him, which caused him to
turn off across the brushwood, towards some neighbouring huts. Shortly, how-
ever, loud cries proceeded from that direction, and some armed peasants issued
forth, preceded by my “dog,” which turned out to be nothing less than a big
wolf. He had seized a kid, which he still held in his fangs, and, in spite of its
weight, passed by us with such rapidity that neither stones nor sticks could
intercept him. In fact, it is very hard to distinguish the Indian wolf from the
RECEPTION AT GOVINDGHUR. 391

half-tame dog that frequents the native villages. The form is the same; the
hide alone is less yellow, in which respect it greatly resembles the tawny wolf of
Poland.

The fact of the existence of wolves in India is not generally known. Travel-
lers, being entirely absorbed in tigers and other animals of the same species, have
neglected to mention these carnivorous beasts, which, though of a less assuming
type, cause quite as extensive ravages. Wolves are extremely numerous over the
range of Hindostan from the Vindhyas to the Himalayas. Never attacking men,
even when in packs, they penetrate into the villages and farms, and carry off
many children, dogs, and kids. They have even heen known to get into European
dwelling-places. 1 know a planter in Doab, whose child was carried off before
his own eyes by one of these wolves from the verandah of his bungalow; and, in
spite of the high premium which the Government has offered for every wolf’s
head, they are still far from having obtained the mastery over this scourge.

Towards evening, as we were about retiring to rest, we had a slight alarm.
A sudden whirlwind rushing down from the Kairmoors passed over our encamp-
ment, overthrowing the small tents of our men; and the kulassees of our own
tent just had ime to throw themselves on the ropes to prevent our being buried
beneath the khanats. These gusts of wind are of very frequent occurrence in
these regions, as we have shortly to experience.

March 29th.—We received a deputation from the palace, consisting of four
nobles who came to pay us the customary compliments; when, as usual, I had
to exhibit our stereoscopic views of Paris, and distribute some presents among
them. They were particularly delighted with the boxes of Eley’s percussion-caps,
which I gave to each of them.

In the afternoon we paid our visit to the maharajah; for which purpose we
had to cross the entire length of the town, if such a title may be awarded to a
confused mass of cane huts of the most provisional appearance. The streets of
the future capital are certainly wide and well designed, but the probabilities are
that the rajah’s project will not outlive him, and Govindgurh will in a short time
fall back again to the rank of a mere hunting-station. The principal entrance to
the palace is situated at the end of the great street. It is a fine triumphal arch
of marble, perforated with three small indented arches in the best Rajpoot style ;
and beyond this gateway lies a small courtyard, surrounded by fine facades, whose
effect is heightened by wide colonnades. It was an agreeable surprise to find all
the simplicity and elegance of the buildings of the sixteenth century in a perfectly
modern edifice; for throughout the eastern part of India the Rajpoot style of
architecture, so well adapted to the climate, has been abandoned in favour of that
hybrid kind introduced by the English, in which is found mingled every style—
the neo-Grecian of Munich, the Renaissance, and even the Gothic.

The prince received us in the fine verandah which serves as an audience-
chamber. Etiquette was still more scrupulously observed than on our first
interview; the nobles standing ranged on each side of the throne, and the king
radiant with jewels and decorations. Every one rose on our entrance, and the
king emphatically bade us welcome to Govindgurh. After an audience of a few
minutes, the essence of roses and the betel were brought. in, and we retired ; but
scarcely had we reached the staircase when a moonshee came after us, and
conducted us into a small saloon, where the king speedily joined us. He had put
392 INDIA.

aside all his glittering ornaments, and with them all his kingly majesty, for he
warmly pressed our hands, and frankly declared the pleasure our visit had afforded
him. Having had notice some time previous, through the agent at Nagound, of

COURTYARD OF THE PALACE OF GOVINDGURH.

 

our approaching arrival, he was impatiently awaiting us, in order to give us the
spectacle of a tiger-hunt. One of these animals was now in the ravines of the
Kairmoors, watched by the shikarees, who had cunningly decoyed them with some
propitiatory victims, and was destined to fall to-morrow by our bullets.
TIGER-HUNTING IN THE KAIRMOORS. 393

The maharajah then discharged the honours of his palace in person. Its
interior corresponds with the simplicity of its exterior; but, to make up for this,
the principal room, or grand saloon for fétes, attains to the very acme of bad taste
in its over-profusion of glass, gilding, and utterly incongruous ornamentation ; of
which, however, in our anxiety % humour our amiable host, we feigned the
greatest admiration.

March 30th.—The shikarees came in to give us notice to be in readiness for
the evening; and, at three o’clock, the hunting-sowari passed by our encampment,
the rajah reclining on a litter smoking his hookah, which a young page held by
his side, while the nobles, soldiers, and followers of every description crowded
around him. Mounting our mukna,* we rejoined the troop, and soon we are
ascending the mountain all together.

I have already remarked that at this point the Kairmoors present a gently
inclined slope, extending for a considerable distance without any break. The
extremely easy angle of this slope renders its ascent commodious on any part of
it; but the naked rock is covered with innumerable detached blocks of very
unequal sizes, through which the elephant can with difficulty open a passage.
The nature of the soil seems to me volcanic; for on all sides, between the blocks
and the crumbling stones, may be seen small castings of a black substance similar
to pitch when it is cooled, brilliant as jet, and which I should not hesitate to pro-
nounce Java, if its very formation did not seem to be, relatively speaking, of
recent date. On the whole surface of this slope nothing is to be seen but a few
stunted acacias, with here and there a sal growing in the hollows of the rocks,
where only a limited quantity of vegetable earth is to be found.

From a very slight elevation, a splendid panorama unfolded itself. The view
extended over the whole plateau, and the horizon towards the north appeared
uniformly flat; the forests formed a line some miles in depth at the foot of the
chain, and on the opposite side stretched the vast cultivated plains which surround
Rewah and Mukunpore; while, on the west, the sharp crest of the Bandair
Mountains were distinctly visible.

The king’s cortége wound picturesquely up the side of the mountain. The
royal palanquin, carried by eight men, in the midst of a group of servants holding
up parasols and fly-flaps made of y4k-tails, took the lead; then followed a long
line of elephants, with their hunting-houdahs and motley trappings; and these
were succeeded by men on foot, and the horsemen leading their horses by the
bridles, the animals leaping from rock to rock like goats.

We soon reached a fine plateau, covered with a rich vegetation; and on all
sides towered high rounded peaks, between which, some thousand feet below, we
caught glimpses of the lovely valley of the Séne. This river, which is one of
the chief southern tributaries of the Ganges, at this point becomes contined between
the Kairmoors and the buttresses of the Burgowa plateau. It descends from the
heights of the Amar-Kantak, where it has its source in the same group as the
Nerbudda. Its general course is towards the north-east, and, crossing Bogelcund,
falls into the Ganges near Dinapore, after a course of four hundred and sixty-five
miles.

Continuing our march across the plateau, we halted finally at the foot of one
of the cones surrounding us, leaving the hunters to reach the houdi alone and on

* Male elephant, without tusks, usually employed in hunting excursions.
394 INDIA.

foot ; and, after a laborious ascent of these declivities covered with underwood
and young trees, we reached the summit, which presented the appearance of a
vast funnel hung with verdure, its depths forming a small pool. (May not this
be an ancient crater?) We descended to the verge of the water in the profoundest
silence, and there at length we got to the houdi.

The lake, on the borders of which it stood, is the only place in the whole
mountain where the animals can find water. It is the rendezvous, therefore, of
all the denizens of the forest, and the tigers especially are attracted thither by the
double bait of water and an abundant prey. When one of them is signalled, he
is permitted the peaceful enjoyment of this paradise up to the day when he
becomes the object of an expedition like the present.

The houdi is brought to even greater perfection here than in Meywar. It is
quite a small habitation, containing rooms, and surmounted by a terrace. The
walls are battlemented, and their loopholes command a full view of the spot where
the animals are forced to come to water, the rest of the lake being surrounded by
a little wall which prevents all access to it.

In the principal room of the houdi we find a table and chairs, and a basket
containing refreshments and some bottles of Moselle, which are to supply us with
patience to await the arrival of my lord the tiger; it is, however, strictly for-
bidden to speak aloud or to smoke. A perfect arsenal of carbines, ranged along
the wall, are destined for our use and that of the king and the few nobles who
have followed us.

Darkness at length spreads over the little valley; the hours wear on till it
is past midnight: as yet nothing has stirred; but, towards one o'clock, the forest
seems to become animated ; presently some boars arrive, then stags; a little later,
a solitary simbur halts proudly at about thirty yards distant from us, his graceful
head crowned with magnificent antlers, reflected in the mirror of the lake, lit by
myriads of stars. But all these temptations do not make us forget the tiger we
are expecting.

As is always the case in these hunts by night, the most interesting moments
are those of expectation, when the hunter, momentarily unarmed, sees the whole
nocturnal life of the forest defile before his eyes. When the tiger appears, there
is another interval of excitement. Then the unfortunate animal, fatally condemned
beforehand, advances almost without any mistrust. A discharge is sent from the
houdi, and the tiger falls with a roar, his body riddled with bullets. This last
act, which appears to be the principal one, is not the most to be admired. For
my own part, I have always felt a sort of remorse in making one of eight to
assassinate a tiger from behind a wall two feet in thickness.

This time also, everything happens as I had foreseen: out of our number of
eight, the tiger has received five bullets, which fact does not, however, prevent
the courtiers from complimenting the king on his skill, as though he had been
the only one to fire.

On hearing the shots, the attendants arrive on the spot, bearing torches; the
carcase of the tiger is placed on a stretcher, and, remounting our elephants, we
return on our road to Govindgurh. At four in the morning, we found ourselves
in our tent, after a fearful run, mounted on our elephant, stumbling by torchlight
in the midst of the chaos of rocks I have already described. It is quite a
miracle that no accident has occurred, for I have a notion that, while we were
THE PANTHER. 395

drinking the Moselle in the houdi, the king’s attendants were doing honour to the
new wine of the mhowah.

This expedition is only the prelude to a series of battues which we are to make
during the following days in the vglley of the Séne.

March 3 1st—To-day, being Sunday, is devoted to rest, which, for that matter,
our night-excursion fully entitles us to.

Towards evening, the king honours our camp with a visit of ceremony, pomp-
ously carried in a litter ornamented with silver plates, and escorted by a regiment
of his regular infantry, and followed by an endless sowari of elephants and horse-
men. This unexpected visit throws our mukk4m into confusion; our people
rush about here and there, hurriedly putting on their turbans arid gala dresses.
We have scarcely time to arrange our few campaigning-stools and arm-chairs in
an imposing line, before the procession issues from the mhowahs. The king
alights from his litter at the entrance to the camp, and, leaning on my arm,
advances to take his place on one of our iron arm-chairs, making us sit on either
side of him, while the nobles and soldiers form themselves into a square.

Feeling really confused at all this display, I again repeat to the prince that
we are only simple travellers, and that nothing in our position calls for this
avalanche of honours; which gives him the opportunity for putting in another
fine speech. We then exhibit all our curiosities, photographs, and water-colour
sketches ; then the nautchnis execute their dances by torchlight, and finally a
few crackers and two fire-balloons are started off, bringing the ceremony to a
brilliant termination. The king, on taking leave of us, can imagine no better
way of expressing his gratification than to say to us, “You are my brothers; my
kingdom is yours,”

After his departure I perceive that, by his orders, an ample supply of
mhowah brandy has been distributed amongst our people, who are all in a sad
state of drunkenness. This state is, however, at the present moment common
to the majority of the Baghéla and Gound populations, who thus celebrate the
harvest of the precious flowers.

Scarcely is our encampment buried in silence, than I am awakened by cries
mingled with roars and smothered growls. I spring upon my gun, and the scared
servants crowd round the entrance of the tent. Under a tree, twenty paces off,
two panthers are tearing one of our dogs to pieces. With my eyes still heavy
with sleep, I can only send them a chance shot, which puts them to flight. We
find the dog at his last gasp; the unfortunate animal, tied to a tree, was unable
to escape. It was a fine spaniel.I had given me at Nowgong.

Panthers abound in the environs of Govindgurh, and in the neighbouring
plains; the winding irregularities of the rocks, the low thick tangled jungles,
affording them their most favourite haunts. The panther feeds almost exclusively
on animals of middle size, dogs, goats, and sheep, which it comes in search of in
the very midst of the abodes of men. It scarcely ever attacks men or larger
animals, but is infinitely more to be dreaded than the tiger, as it unites greater
courage to a far superior agility, springing upon the hunter as soon as it perceives
itself to be attacked; it also has the advantage of being able to climb up the
trees, and many a hunter has been dislodged from his place of ambush by these

vindictive animals. :
From the rst to the 4th of April we have grand battwes among the ravines of
466 INDIA.

the Sdne. We are encamped in the middle of the forest with all the Court.
The ceremony of our departure took place with great pomp; and we left Govind-
gurh in solemn procession, each one of us mounted on an elephant, with a
numerous retinue of servants carrying palms, besides musicians and singers.

My readers have already accompanied me in several of these hankhs ; I shall
not therefore stop to particularise the details of this one, which was in no respect
inferior to the others. The booty of these four days comprised, besides boars,
nilghaus, and stags in abundance, two black bears of a small species, some pretty
chikard gazelles, and a fine lynx.

The bushrangers employed on this hunting-excursion, twelve hundred in
number, belonged for the most part to the Gound race, with some Kolees and
Bhoumias of the East. I soon found out that a savage from the high plateaux
of the Sirgouja was amongst them, his presence having excited the curiosity even
of our apathetic companions.

Although situated geographically near to Bogelcund, the Sirgouja and its
mountainous groups are still almost entirely unknown to the dwellers on the
banks of the Sdéne and the Ganges. The poverty of the country, and above all
the pestilential emanations of its terrible malaria, have prevented any colonisation
movement from approaching these regions, which are still surrounded by the
mysterious veil of legendary fables.

Many a time since I had entered Bundeleund, I had listened of an evening
to our people round the bivouac talking of this frightful country, their fantastic
tales representing it to me as infested by the most formidable animals, elephants
and tigers of gigantic size, while the human race was only represented by crea-
tures having the appearance of apes, living in trees and shunning the eyes of men.
I had often conversed on this topic with Englishmen long settled in Central
India, and their opinion had been that these descriptions would seem to apply to
some large species of ape—some unknown anthropomorphites, possessing, like the
Hunouman ape, a certain degree of social organisation. In support of this hypo-
thesis, some travellers, who had passed through the country, asserted having seen
and even pursued some large apes, similar to the ourang of the Malay islands.

It may be imagined with what delight I learned that one of these men-apes,
or Bundarlokh, as the Indians call them, was within my reach, and about to
afford me some elucidation of this obscure problem.

One of the maharajah’s hulkaras brought this representative of the Bundars
to our camp. I was struck at once by his low stature, scarcely five English feet,
and, above all, by the length of his arms, which, united to the animal expression
of his wrinkled countenance, fully justified the title of ape given to him by the
natives. The low forehead disappeared beneath woolly tangled locks; the nose
thick at the extremity and flattened at the bridge; broad raised nostrils; small,
deep-sunken eyes, a fleshless chin; and to complete the ugliness of this mask, on
each side of the mouth wrinkles running in parallel lines, covering the cheeks.
This face, in spite of its ugliness, bore the impress of a profound sadness, which
had nothing of the savage in it. The body itself was of a shocking leanness; the
skin, of a reddish black, like tanned leather, hung in creases on the limbs; the
abdomen, sunk inwards as though withered up, bore in the middle a shapeless
protuberance covering the navel, and doubtless proceeding from the umbilical cord.

The presence of Europeans had considerably embarrassed the unfortunate
A SAVAGE FROM SIRGOUFA. . 397

savage, and it was impossible to extract the slightest information from him. The
Gound who accompanied him furnished us with the few details he had obtained
from the man himself. It appeared that this savage belonged to a tribe, of a hundred
head, inhabiting the forests
east of Sirgouja; that the
name of the race was Djan-
gal, which is only the deri-
vative of the world jungle,
and is applied by the In-
dians to all savages in gene-
ral; and that he had left his
tribe, driven away by the
famine which was decimat-
ing the country. These
details were, as may be
seen, of the vaguest descrip-
tion, and told us nothing.

My comrade made a
rapid sketch of the face
and profile of the Bundar,
and in the hope of attract-
ing him to Govindgurh,
where I had left my pho-
tographic apparatus, I or-
dered some rupees to be
given him. But the sight
of us, and our questions,
had so frightened him, that
he escaped during the
night, and could not be
found again. It is prob-
able that he had been
banished from his tribe for
some crime he had com-
mitted, and, after having
wandered miserably among
the valleys for a long time,
had made up his mind to
implore the hospitality of
the Gounds.

It was a pity that I ="
could not get a more faith- ee ~ e LAPLAW
ful likeness of him than -
a mere sketch, for I am
convinced that chance had
brought me face to face with one of the representatives of that interesting
Negritto race of India, which, after having at a certain period peopled all the
western coasts of the Gulf of Bengal, has now almost entirely disappeared. Some

 

 

A DJANGAL.
398 INDIA.

remains of them may certainly be found in the still almost unexplored group
which extends between the Sirgouja, Sumbulpore, and Singboum; but it is evi-
dent that only some few families of them still remain, who have taken refuge
in the most inaccessible places.

 

 

 

DANCING-GIRLS OF THE COURT OF REWAH.

 

On the 5th we returned to encamp again under the mhowahs at Govindgurh.
The maharajah had promised us for the 7th an elephant and four waggons drawn
by oxen, to conduct us as far as Bhopal.

During the night after our return we experienced one of those terrible
TERRIBLE HURRICANE. “399

hurricanes so common at this season throughout all the mountainous region.
The Indians give them the name of tofdn.

The tempest burst upon us with so much suddenness that our servants had
barely time to awake us; the canvas khanats were rent asunder, the stakes flew
up in the air, and the wind furiouslf*swelled under our tent. We rushed outside,
and at this very moment a typhoon of rain and dust, mingled with pebbles and
branches, hurled us to the ground, carrying me to some distance, stifled and bruised.
The darkness was so dense that it was only with difficulty, and guided by my
companions’ cries of terror, that I succeeded in gaining the tree at the foot of
which they sought shelter. :

Even here the hurricane enveloped us with its whirlwinds of warm rain and
stones, which take away our breath. Thunderbolts constantly ploughed the
ground, bursting through the darkness with great violet-coloured flashes. The
tempest brought us the sound of the cries of the unfortunate inhabitants of
Govindgurh, buried under the ruins of their dwelling-places, while, from the
mountain the roaring of the torrents reached our ears, accompanied by the
crashing of the rocks carried away by the sweep of the storm. We might
imagine we were present at the final cataclysm which is to swallow up our world.
For a whole hour the hurricane persisted in all its intensity, then suddenly
calm succeeded, and we are scarcely recovered from our emotion before the sky
appeared glittering with stars. We left the shelter beneath which, masters and
servants mingled in one group, we have passed through the tempest. Every one
sets to work; the kulassees raised up the tent, great fires were lit, the baggage
and furniture was withdrawn from the swamp in which it had sunk, and all was
restored to order.

Daylight discovered to us the extent of the ravages of the ¢ofén; on all
sides trees were to be seen uprooted, and rocks displaced. Govindgurh appeared
all in disorder, and the lake, yesterday quite dry, displayed a broad sheet of
water.

This terrible night had quite sickened us of Govindgurh, and it was with pleasure
we heard that nothing further prevented our departure. We went to pay our
last visit at the palace, where we found the king presiding at his kutchery or
state council. The ministers and the clerks, squatting round his chair, read the
official documents in a nasal tone, or scribbled interminable rolls of paper; while
at the end of the hall the nautchnis sang a sleepy tune. This mode of despatching
business is not without a degree of originality. The king, while he was talking
to us, interrupted himself to make some observation to the moonshee, who con-
tinued his report.

At last I presented him with some sistowtaphe I had taken of his durbar and
of the palace, and in return he offered us a very handsome khillut. We took
leave of each other with mutual protestations of friendship and remembrance.
CHAPTER XXXIX.

THE VALLEY OF THE TONS.

Amarpatan.—Principality of Myhere.—We receive the Rais of Myhere in Durbar.—Reception at
the Palace.—The Valley of the Tons,—Goundwana.—The keep of Elephants on the march.
—The Bungalow of Joukhay.—The Dacoits and Female Poisoners.—The Robber and the
Tguana.

b>) PRIL 8tu.—On our return to Rewah from Govindgurh, we had
to devote two days to choosing the oxen destined to drag the
four enormous waggons which were to carry our baggage to
Bhopal. The maharajah had provided us besides with a fine
elephant and an escort of six horsemen.

2 If the reader refers to the map of Kastern Rajesthan, he will
see that from Agra our road continued constantly in a south-eastern direction.
On leaving Rewah, we shall retrograde as far as Bhopal towards the south-west,
ascending thence straight towards the north, on Agra, thus tracing a perfect.
triangle in the heart of Central India.

We left the bungalow at Rewah at two in the morning, accompanying our
caravan ; but the slow pace of the oxen soon compelled us to leave our people and
the oxen behind us. The road was, however, excellent, being the great English
highway from Mirzapore to Jubbulpore,

The sun overtook us as we were in the middle of that monotonous plain we
had already crossed more northwards as we came from Nagound. A little farther
on, the ground began to undulate, and the Bandairs were distinctly visible on the
horizon. Towards ten o’clock, we reached the small town of Amarpatan, pictur-
esquely situated amidst groups of large trees and numerous ponds.

We had been told that we should find a dak bungalow at every stage of our
journey, but this promise proved erroneous at the very outset. Amarpatan
certainly possesses a small bungalow, but it is exposed to the four winds of
heaven, without furniture or servants, and isolated from the village. We were
therefore compelled to await the arrival of our waggons, but our uneasiness may
be conceived as the afternoon wore on and nothing was to be seen of them. At
last, at three o'clock, our caravan rejoined us, having taken nearly fourteen hours
to accomplish the twenty-four miles from Rewah to this place. How heartily we
already regretted those good camels of the West, with their long slow step, which
none the less gets over long distances in a short space of time. Other events had
occurred to add to the slow pace of the oxen: our caravan had fallen a victim to
those audacious thieves who infest all the highways of Central India. The

 
MYHERE., "got

servants having fallen asleep, they carried off during the march, and almost from
under their very bodies, several of our packages, fortunately of little value, but
amongst which were comprised all the possessions of my good Déri, the faithful
bearer, and almost director of the caravan. The grief of the unfortunate servant
on waking to find himself robbed of all his clothes, besides all his little savings, was
so great that his comrades had some difficulty in preventing him from starting there
and then in pursuit of the thieves. In short, it was a sorry beginning for us all.

April oth—Having started from Amarpatan at daybreak, we now entered
the little state of Myhere, the capital town of which we reached at eight o’clock.
Here we found a good dik bungalow, which compensated us for the hovel of the
previous night.

Myhere is a small town of from six to seven thousand souls, picturesquely
situated at the foot of the Bandair Mountains, at the entrance to the valley of the
Tons. This latter forms a narrow defile, divided in a straight line by the group
of the Vindhyas, separating the Kairmoors from the Bandairs, and making a point
of communication between the valley of the Ganges and the upper course of the
Nerbudda. It was a naturally made passage for the railroad destined to unite the
Deccan and Hindostan ; the English took advantage of it, and it is here that the
line from Jubbulpore to Allahabad now runs.

This narrow valley, with the wild heights that overhang it, constitutes the
kingdom of Myhere, which is calculated to have a surface of 1026 square miles,
with a population of a hundred and twenty thousand inhabitants, Hindoos and
Gounds. The sovereign bears the title of rais, which is inferior to that of rajah,
and he recognises the English protectorate.

The formation of :a railroad across the principality, and the establishment of
a station at the capital itself, cannot fail to create large outlets for the productions
of this little country. The young sovereign’s intelligence is also highly spoken
of ; he was-the means of bringing the railroad through his states, by making a gra-
tuitous concession to the company of all the ground it required for the purpose.

The Agent at Nagound had given me a khureeta for the prince, and as soon
as we arrived at the bungalow I had it sent to the palace. In return, I received
the visit of the baboo Bengali, who filled the office of minister and secretary at
the little court. He came to submit to us the programme for our interview, as pro-
posed by the prince. According to his own wish, the rais was to pay us the first
visit at our bungalow, and we were to return his visit the same day at the palace.

Notwithstanding some objections which I made, the baboo courteously insisted
that this arrangement for the visits should hold good ; so nothing remained for us
to do but to prepare for the reception of the royal guest. It is true that we had
now become quite accomplished in the art of durbar ceremonies since we left
Baroda. With one of the carpets of our tent, and the bungalow chairs ranged
according to the rules of etiquette, the great verandah was speedily converted into
a durbar-room, while our servants and sowars, decked in their finest apparel,
represented the royal household.

At about four o’clock, the prince’s coming was announced to us, and we soon
saw him approaching, mounted on a fine white charger, and followed by a staff of
nobles and officers; two companies of Sepoys, after the English fashion, marched
on a little in advance, and these, if I mistake not, constituted the main body of

the regular army of Myhere. I went forward to meet the prince, whom I assisted
Z6
402 INDIA.

to dismount from his horse, and conducted to the seat of honour, while the nobles
of his suite took their places on the chairs.

The rais was quite a young man, of about twenty to two-and-twenty years of
age, with rather an ordinary-looking face, but full of intelligence. He wore the
Rajpoot costume. The young prince opened the conversation in excellent English,
and even, to my infinite surprise, added some few words of French. I found that,
having been entrusted during his minority to the charge of the English authorities,
he had received a highly finished education at the College of Agra, and left it
with all his diplomas. At the conclusion of the interview, in order to fulfil my
duties as president of a durbar to the utmost, I had the rose-water brought in,
and sprinkled the clothes of the rais and his nobles with my own hands.

An unknown spectator had been present at our durbar; this was the director
of the Jesuit establishment of Bombay, who, having been recently appointed to
the bishopric of Calcutta, was proceeding to his post by land, and had arrived
precisely at this moment at the bungalow. The manners and customs of
Rajasthan not being much known in the English presidencies, the surprise of the
worthy prelate on witnessing our reception of the sovereign of the country may be
imagined.

In the evening we were conducted to the palace in palunquins, escorted by
massalchees bearing torches. The baboo and the king’s uncle conducted us to the
durbar, where the rais awaited us in state, seated on a velvet throne, surrounded
by his great dignitaries. His reception of us was marked by the extreme of
courtesy. He begged us so graciously to devote the next day to him, that I was
obliged to give him the promise of countermanding our departure, which was to
have taken place this very evening.

April 1oth.—Accompanied by the baboo, we visited the town, which offered
nothing remarkable. It is surrounded by a high battlemented wall, apparently
of ancient construction; its houses are for the most part built of kutcha,
or raw brick; the streets are kept very clean, and a few bazaars create a
centre of some animation. Its commerce consists principally in gum-lac and
other produce of the neighbouring forests, of which I shall speak again presently.
The palace itself is only a tolerably considerable group of bungalows in the
English style—small pavilions with stone verandahs, surrounded by carefully ©
kept gardens, interspersed with pieces of water. The interior is arranged with great
simplicity, excepting some few state rooms, which are rather richly decorated.

Not far from the town, in one of the ravines of the Tons, there is an interesting
group of ancient cenotaphs, recalling to mind by their elegance the Rajpoot
monuments of Meywar, only on a smaller scale. Like these last, they consecrate
the sites of the suttees or funeral piles of the Bachéla princes.

In the course of the day I saw the rais, and it was agreed that we should
pass the evening together. In consequence of this arrangement, towards evening
we proceeded to the palace, after having sent on our people towards the next
halting-place. The prince, accompanied by a few of his personal friends, awaited
us in the garden, where we remained chatting on different subjects for some time.
Thence we passed into one of the halls, where we found a sumptuously laid table,
spread with a dinner in the European style. The prince and his attendants left
us alone, wishing us a good appetite, and only returned at the dessert to empty
some goblets of champagne with us. After dinner, we took our seats on the
VALLEY OF THE TONS. 403

divans of the verandah, and while smoking our hookah witnessed a rather barbarous
nautch, which was however replete with local colouring. During these entertain-
ments, which were prolonged to a very late hour, the servants constantly handed
round sherbets, made of iced fruits, mangoes, dates, pineapples, &c. Finally some
fireworks, sent off from the banks of*the lake, brought the féte to a suitable close.
We took leave of the young prince, expressing ourselves deeply sensible of his
affable reception of us. ge eye

April 11th,—It was two in the morning when we left the palace of Myhere,
so mounting our elephant at once we commenced our march without returning to
the dik bungalow. It was a superb night, the air cool and the sky brilliant with
stars, so we advanced rapidly on our road, still keeping to the English highway,
which was perfectly well kept and bordered by magnificent trees.

 

CENOTAPHS IN THE VALLEY OF THE TONs.

The first streaks of dawn enabled us to enjoy a little of the picturesque
landscape we were passing through. Having already penetrated into the heart of
the defiles of the Tons, we passed along the Bandair Mountains, whose slopes,
covered with forests, rose gently from the bottom of the valley, striking upwards
abruptly near the summit in a ridge, resembling a rampart.

On the opposite side, at a distance of a few miles, the rounded peaks of the
Kairmoors were visible; below us the valley displayed its rich cultivation,
surrounded by clusters of gigantic fruit trees and its numerous villages, which
appeared enveloped in a bluish smoke. Nothing disturbed the calm which reigned
in this peaceful valley; it was a delicious sight, of which the freshness of early
morning in no way diminished the beauty.

At six in the morning we reached Goundwara, where our camp was
already installed near a deserted bungalow. Notwithstanding its name, which
404 INDIA.
sienifies “habitation of the Gounds,” the village contains but few representatives
oP. this race, and they are banished amongst the ranks of the pariahs, méters, and
bunghis. The inhabitants are Hindoo Boundélas, and they displayed great
eagerness to furnish us with provisions.

My chief anxiety at the end of each march was for the elephant, which was
personally confided to me by the Maharajah of Rewah. It is neither a slight
responsibility nor a trifling matter to have to keep and maintain an elephant for
a whole month or two. The reader can judge of this by the following particulars,
which may interest him. :

The daily ration of an elephant on the march is composed of from twenty to
five-and-twenty pounds of wheat flour, which is kneaded with water, and to which
is added a pound of ghee, or clarified butter, and half a pound of coarse salt.
This is made into cakes of one pound each, simply baked on an iron tray, and
these are given to the animal in two separate meals. This ration is absolutely
indispensable in order that the elephant may not decline in strength when he has
to perform Jong marches every day. But, to ensure its being given him, the best
precaution for the traveller to take is to be himself present at his meals, other-
wise the mahout (conductor) and his family will make no scruple in stealing a
portion from it for their own food.

These flour cakes provide the elephant with his regular meals; but they are
far from sufficing him entirely, and in the intervals he absorbs an amount of food
quite in accordance with his immense size. This additional sustenance is furnished
to him by the branches of several trees, and principally of the bur (Ficus indica)
and the peepul (Ficus religiosa). He is taken to the jungle, where he chooses and
plucks off for himself the branches most suited to him. He does not eat them at
the time, but loads on his back the provision necessary for the day, and brings it
home to the camp. He throws away the leaves and the wood, eating nothing but
the bark. It is a curious sight to see with what dexterity he removes the whole
bark of a branch, however small it may be, with a single stroke of the finger
which is placed at the end of his trunk.

In the many pools of water which abound near the villages of Central India
a marshy grass is found, after the month of April, which grows up in abundance,
and attains the size of a sabre-blade; the botanists calls it Typha elephantina, and
the elephants prefer it to the boughs. They are also very fond of sugar-canes,
but this is too heating a food for them.

It requires several people to take proper care of an elephant, and for this
reason the mahout usually takes his wife and children with him on a journey.
The animal should always be placed under the shade of a thickly leaved tree, and
on a dry ground, without his trappings. A simple cord tied to one of his hind
legs, and held fast by a stake, is sufficient to keep him to the spot, for a docile
animal never attempts to break away from this slight restraint. Morning and
evening he must have his bath; and, before he sets out on his march, his forehead,
ears, paws, and every part of his body susceptible of cracking under the influence
of the sun must be anointed with grease.

The elephant is often seen to make balls of earth, generally of red loam, and
then swallow them. It is a natural remedy which they instinctively employ
against intestinal worms, to which they are very subject, and its result is a
violent purging.
THE DACOITS. 405

I need not dwell on the astonishing sagacity of these intelligent animals, so
many travellers have furnished proofs of it. It will not be a matter of surprise
that the elephant should observe the coincidence between the presence of the
traveller and the additional care of, which he becomes the object, and in con-
sequence show him signs of strong attachment. You are sure each time you
approach him to be greeted by some friendly cry; he obeys your slightest
movement, and takes especial care during the march to put aside or to break the
branches that might strike you.

April 12th.—Past Goundwara, the defiles stretch out for another seventeen
miles’ distance towards the south ; the valley becomes more and more narrow, and
arrives at an average width of a mile and a half.

Having commenced our journey during the night, we reached by day the
small town of Sowagunga. The thanadar, or chief of the district, having received
orders from the rais, awaited us on our passage, and escorted us as far as the
village of Joukhay, which marks the southern limit of the principality, Throughout
the whole distance we travelled over, the country unites to a varied and picturesque
landscape the appearance of a fertile and well-cultivated soil. At Joukhay, the
mountains become suddenly lowered towards the east, and the railway issues on
to the tablelands which extend as far as Jubbulpore, over forty miles southwards,
while to the west the Baudair Mountains are divided by several valleys, through
which runs the road to Saugor.

At the distance of a mile and a half from the frontier, at the turn of the
Jubbulpore and Saugor roads, stands a fine house, isolated and half hidden by a
curtain of trees. This is the bungalow of Joukhay, built about twenty years ago
by the Rajah of Bijéwur, who at that time owned all the surrounding country.
This prince, a great friend of the Europeans, was succeeded by a young man
sixteen years old, who, forgetful of the paternal counsels, was amongst the first to
throw himself into the insurrection of 1857, in which he was distinguished for
his obstinate animosity and cruelty. As soon as the revolt was crushed, the
young rajah fled to the neighbouring mountains, where he lived by brigandage up
to the year 1860. At length, betrayed by a traitor, he was imprisoned in the
citadel of Allahabad, and condemned to transportation to the Andaman Islands ;
but, on receiving the news of his sentence, he hanged himself with his turban to
the bars of his cell. I have already stated that the rajahs of Bijawur were the
eldest branch of the reigning family of Myhere.

At the bungalow of Joukhay we have an interesting meeting with a family
of Dacoits, who have come to instal themselves there on the look-out for some
windfall near the travellers’ house. The Dacoits are an association of thieves and
brigands, which made its appearance many years ago in Central India; they are
probably the descendants of those Thugs, or stranglers, who have been so much
talked of; or rather they are Thugs who have abandoned their old system, which
had become too well known, for one more perfected and modern. The Dacoits do
not strangle their victims for the empty pleasure of offering a sacrifice to the
black Kali, but they pillage and massacre with equal frenzy.

Some of these bands have adopted a method of action which is still more
indicative of the contact of civilisation; they choose to work upon the great
English roads, at those points where they pass through wild and deserted regions.
But the solitude and isolation of the traveller do not suffice to banish that awe
406 INDIA.

with which the English laws and police inspire them, and this is one of the
means they employ to get over the obstacle in a certain measure. The band
choose a place of meeting near a bungalow, and then send on some scouts to it,
who generally consist of one or two old men accompanied by a young girl of
great beauty. The old men perform the easy character of poor pilgrims journeying
towards some distant sanctuary; the young girl penetrates into the bungalow on
the pretence of begging, and there she succeeds admirably in rousing the attention
of the traveller, speaks to him, and generally obtains with ease every information
respecting the road he is about to take. It naturally happens that the pilgrims
are following the same track, and the day after the traveller finds the people
he had remarked at the next halting-place. The absence of mistrust in the
European, and the fine eyes of the young girl, tend to facilitate the aim of these
cunning thieves. Some evening the traveller and his servants are thrown into a
death-like slumber by a narcotic drink; the Dacoits arrive on the spot at the
signal agreed upon, and when the poor dupe wakes in the morning his baggage,
jewels, and money have disappeared, together with the interesting family of
pilgrims. These instances, as I have related them, have occurred twice to my
own knowledge; but they are more frequent than is imagined, for in most cases
the victim, ashamed of the trap he has allowed himself to fall into, accepts
his misfortune as a lesson, and takes good care not to acquaint the authorities
with it.

These expeditions are a mere pastime to the Dacoit, but he willingly attempts
more perilous adventures. Entirely naked, with his body oiled, and supple as a
serpent, he slips into apartments and underneath tents, defying all vigilance.
More than twenty times they have been known to follow a European regiment on
its march, and come several times running to steal, even in the very tents of the
officers. The Dacoit never uses his arms against the dreaded Sahib except at the
last extremity, but with the Indian he is less scrupulous; he will always kill, and
sometimes will burn a dwelling-place, merely to steal a trifling article. I could
cite thousands of examples in proof of the ravages exercised by these brigands,
who in a few years have spread themselves like a hideous plague-spot over all
Northern India, flourishing at the present day in Bengal in the very heart of the
Presidency. Their crafty tricks and means of operating surpass all that our most
fantastic romancers have ever imagined.

The use which they make of the large Indian lizard, or iguana, merits remark.
This animal, which sometimes measures more than a yard in length, is endowed
with great strength, and possesses the faculty of clinging by means of its claws
armed with suckers, to a smooth surface, and of keeping itself suspended to it
with marvellous tenacity. The Dacoit, when he has a high wall to scale, pro-
vides himself with one of these animals, of middling size, and, having tied a cord
round the middle of its body, throws it over the wall; the animal sticks to the
stone, and thus forms a living cramp-iron, holding the cord by which the robber
has but to hoist himself up.

I need scarcely say that, having been long ago put on my guard, the Dacoit
mancuvres round the bungalow of Joukhay interested me without causing me to
run into any peril; so, finding themselves discovered, they noiselessly decamped
during the day.
CHAPTER XL.

GOUNDWANA.—PROVINCE OF DUMOH AND SAUGOR.

Geographical and Historical Sketch The Gounds.—From J oukhay to Burtulla.— Wealth of the
Forests of Goundwana.—The Taloukdar of Koumari,—Bison Hunting.—Dumoh. - Sir
Richard Temple.—The Lake of Puturia, —Saugor.—The Serpent- Charmera. —Moses’ Rod.
—Rahtgurh.—The Brinjarrees,

NDER the name of Goundwana, or country of the Gounds, is
comprised that vast region of tablelands which surrounds all
the upper course of the Nerbudda, oe which, lying between
74 and 80° longitude and 20° 10’ and 24° latitude, covers
almost mathematically the entire centre of the Indian peninsula.

x It is bounded on the north by the Bundelcund, Bogelcund, and

Sirgouja ; on the east by Sumbulpore and the land of the Khounds; on the south
by Berar and the states of Nizam; on the west by Kandeish and the land of the
Bheels. It constitutes at the present day the largest part of the new English
government of the Central Provinces.

Its general configuration presents a series of tablelands of about twelve
hundred feet in height, not very considerable in extent, and with a generally even
surface, separated from each other by deep sunk valleys, which, excepting those
of Nerbudda and Taptee, are watered only by torrents. These tablelands may
be divided into three different groups. The first, on the east, includes the cluster
of the Amarkantak, whose highest points reach to an elevation of 3500 feet
above the sea: from this cluster three rivers take their source—the Nerbudda,
which turning westward loses itself in the Gulf of Cambay; the Sdne, which joins
the Ganges ten miles above Dinapore; and the Maha Nadi, which flows into the
Gulf of Bengal.

The second group is formed by the central chain of the Vindhyas. The
third, and most considerable, is comprised in the long line which, under the
names of Satpoora, Boundeh, Mahadeva, and Kaligong mountains, crosses the
Goundwana from east to west. The climate of this region is one of the most
deadly \in all India, and, what is remarkable, its effects are especially formidable
on the tablelands. Notwithstanding these disadvantages, it is a magnificent
country, exceedingly rich and fertile, which civilisation will soon learn how to
appropriate to itself.

The Goundwana, like all wild regions, has no history; it was still almost
entirely unknown to the Indians themselves some centuries ago. We have no
authentic document respecting it anterior to the seventeenth century.

 
408 INDIA.

The legends preserved by the Gounds describe this race to us as having had
its origin a the country which it occupies at the present day ; no notion has been
tracad of a former migration, as in the traditions of the Bheels and the Kolees.

 

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GOUNDS.

They may therefore be considered up to now as the aborigines of Central India,
increased and modified by the tribes of the Kolees and the Bheels driven back
amongst them by the movement of invasions.

The first invasions, as later those of the Aryans, doubtless passed round this
GOUNDWANA. 409

inaccessible cluster, while it is pretty nearly certain that none of them overran it.
Nevertheless, after the Mussulman conquest, the Rajpoots, seeking everywhere for
new subjects and new territories, penetrated into the country, but they only came
in small numbers, less as conquerors, than as colonisers, and, allying themselves to
the Gound race, created a certain number of small kingdoms in the land. From
that period, the country became open to Indian colonists, who came by degrees
and established themselves along the Nerbudda and the Taptee, occupying all the
valleys, and leaving the higher lands to the aborigines. Under Akbar (155 5),
the country of the Gounds was still comprised in those fabulous regions inhabited
by apes and lions. At length the Maharatta movement put an end to the little
Gound kingdoms, and the Bhouslas reigned from Nagpore to Jubbulpore. After
the Bhouslas, the supreme power passed to their heirs, the English, who contented
themselves with occupying the towns of the plain, and showed great contempt for
their new territory. In consequence of this, notwithstanding a long period of
English occupation, the country still remained entirely unexplored until 1860.
The initiative work of a man of whom I shall speak presently, Sir Richard Temple,
brought about a complete revolution after that period, and at the present day this
region, which had remained wild and untouched up to our generation, is on the
road to become one of the most flourishing provinces of the britannic empire.

The Gounds still constitute at the present day the majority of the population.
I have already mentioned above that their traditions represent them as having
occupied the land from time immemorial, and on the other hand they appear to
have been specially free from invasions; we ought therefore to find in them one
of the purest types, if not of the primitive inhabitants of India, at least of that
race which overran it at the most distant period of time.

After this brief survey of the people of Goundwana, I must say a few words
about the Khounds, who have up to now been so strangely confounded by all
travellers with the Gounds. The Khounds earned for themselves a gloomy
celebrity by their meriahs, or bloody human sacrifices. They are blacker than the
Gounds, and have no affinity with them either in language or religion, and approach
much nearer to the Negritto type. Their name of Khound is derived from the
radical Sanscrit word Khé, and signifies mowntaineer.

April 13th.—On leaving the bungalow of Joukhay, we quitted the superb
Jubbulpore road for the bad caravan tracks which lead over the Vindhyas
towards Saugor. This was our entrance into Goundwana, although ever since
Myhere we had been passing through a country inhabited by the Gounds.

For twenty miles we crossed an unwooded tableland, slightly undulated ; it
is the last layer of the series extending from the Jumna to the central chain of
the Vindhyas, whose ridges rose at a short distance from our road, towards the
south. The landscape is monotonous; but still, at distant intervals, vast cultivated
spaces spread themselves round large Hindoo villages of picturesque appearance.
Near each of these villages are to be found ancient ruins, remaining as evidences
of the civilisation introduced on the extreme frontiers of Goundwana by the
Buddhist missionaries some centuries previous to our era.

Towards eight in the morning we reached the town of Burtulla, near which
we found an excellent bungalow. Ever since the beginning of the month the
temperature had gone on in an ascending scale; to-day my thermometer marked
34° at one o'clock in the common room of the habitation, and 48° on the verandah,
410 INDIA.

where a hot wind was blowing. For the next two months, we had to face the
most terrible season in India, and that too in one of the unhealthiest regions ; but
it was impossible to recede, for we were on the point of attaining the most
important object of our journey, the ruins and monuments of Bhilsa.

In the course of the evening, some clouds, drifted along by a south-westerly
wind, fortunately brought us some beneficent showers.

April 14th—On leaving Burtulla, the road proceeds in the direction of one
of the chains of the Vindhyas, running from north to south, and crosses it by a
series of very steep ascents and descents, coming closely one after another. As
far as the village of Rajpoora, which we passed at daylight, the jungle was thin
and low; but it was soon exchanged for a magnificent forest, whose large trees
formed a dark canopy of verdure, sheltering an inextricable tangle of bamboos,
shrubs, and tall grass, from which sprang those fine creepers which twine them-
selves round the very highest branches. Monkeys and birds of bright plumage
animated this superb scenery.

Notwithstanding their high style of beauty, these forests are far from rival-
ling the picturesque vegetation of the Ghats of Malabar or of Konkan, but they
equal and even perhaps surpass them in the wealth of their productions. Among
all the specimens of the vegetable kingdom of which they are composed, from the
grass or the shrub to the gigantic tree, there are few which do not possess some
useful property.

The feature which chiefly characterises these forests of Northern and Central
India is the sdi (Shorea robusta), a fine tree, with tall straight trunk and thick
dark green foliage. Besides a wood which is much valued for the construction’
of railways, it produces abundant quantities of a resin much sought after in com--
merce under the name of didk. Unfortunately the improvidence of the Gounds
is here once more displayed, for in order to obtain a larger yield, they destroy the
tree by making an incision all round it.

The different species of gums and resins which have become of late years the
object of an active trade with the Europeans may be ranked amongst the first pro-
ductions of these forests. Next to the dhak and dhammar resins are found the
baboul and the sirsa (Acacie arabica et speciosa), which yield the gum arabic of
commerce ; the kheir (Acatechu), producing the astringent known as cachou; the
salei (Boswellia thurifera), a shrub whose odoriferous resin is employed by the
Indians as an incense, and whose Sanscrit name of labana has caused it to be
identified with the olibanum of the ancients. Next to these natural juices is
found in great abundance the stick-lac of commerce, produced by insects, who
deposit it on the branches of the patés and wild plum-trees in large quantities.

The other essences worthy of observation are the majestic simoul (Bombax in-
dicum), whose seeds are covered with a textile silky fibre, capable of replacing
cotton for various purposes; the kowr, which boasts of the same properties, and
yields besides a resinous wood which is used for torches; the ebony tndou,
invaluable for cabinet-making, and bearing a pulpy fruit much relished by the
natives; the nim (Melia aziderach), whose shoots and leaves have very powerful
febrifuge qualities, and whose seeds yield an excellent oil; the jamalkota, which
gives the pharmaceutic croton oil; and the koukla, and nermali, of the genus
Strychnos, which produces the terrible nux vomica. If we add to this list the
dm, or wild mango, the bur, the tamarind, the palds, the teak, the numberless
THE TALOUKDAR OF KOUMARI. aver

species of fig-trees, and the mhowah, of which my readers already know the
properties, it will be seen what inexhaustible resources these forests provide for
their wild inhabitants. And besides all this, I purposely omit the endless
enumeration of useful plants which grow spontaneously in the glades and under
the shade of the large trees—such as the tikwr, which produces the nourishing
fecula, arrowroot, the muhwal, with its woody fibres, &c,

For several hours we journeyed on in the midst of this grand spectacle, at
long intervals coming upon some wretched Gound huts, or primitive workings of
charcoal-burners. The slopes became lower, and we reached a well-cultivated
valley, in the midst of which, on a slight elevation, rises the town of Koumari.

The sun already dart-
ed his burning rays upon
us, impelling us to seek
a more comfortable shelter
than that afforded by our
tent, in the village it-
self. The villagers con-
ducted me to the habita-
tion of the taloukdar of
the district—a descend-
ant of the Gound rajahs.
This good man received
us perfectly well; but his
dwelling-place, which the
peasants term a palace,
was nothing more than a
large farm, crowded with
servants and live-stock; so,
fearing to cause him tco
great an inconvenience,
I fell back on the hospi-
tality which had been
offered me on the way
by the worthy Rajpoot
who represents the Eng-
lish authorities in this
place. The station-house THE TALOUKDAR OF KOUMARLI,
was an Indian building,
very cleanly kept, where they gave up for our use a large room, which for comfort
and coolness was all we could possibly desire. It was the first time during
my travels that it has happened to me to stay in the very heart of a village
and in an Indian habitation.

During the day the taloukdar came to pay us a visit. He was a fine man,
still young, who might serve as a type of the superior class of Raj Gounds. He
tried to imitate, but with little success, the courteous manners of the Rajpoots,
although he was not wanting in a certain natural distinction. He gave me some
interesting details about the Gounds and the surrounding country. On closing
the conversation, he proposed to take me, if I could spare time, to a bison hunt

 
ie INDIA.

on a plateau at some miles’ distance from this place, and I hastened to accept so
attractive an offer.

The gaur, or Indian bison, is one of the most remarkable animals of the
Indian fauna. Although it is to be met with in all the forests from Cape Comorin
to the Himalayas, it is only to be found in large numbers in the central zone. The
name of gaur, which has become its scientific denomination,* is only applied to it
by the natives of the Terai Hepalais ; in the other parts of India it is errone-
ously called jungli khowja or bhainsa, which is equivalent to “buffalo of the
jungle.” The European hunters have christened it the Indian bison, and this
appellation, besides being that most in use, seems better justified than either the
native or the scientific terms. The gaur has absolutely no analogy with the wild
buffalo, which inhabits the same parts; it has a far nearer affinity to the
American bison t than to the ordinary bull.

The head, which is short and square, is surmounted by a broad high forehead,
covered with bunches of long reddish hair. The muzzle is strongly developed,
and of a rose-coloured or light grey tinge ; and the ears are smaller than those of
the bull. The horns, instead of being round at the base, are oval, and much
flattened, bending towards the back part of the head, and then turning upwards
in a sharp point, forming an arch. The neck, short and thick, issues from
beneath a fleshy hump which overtops the shoulders, and extends to the middle
of the back. This hump is one of the peculiarities which brings it nearer in its
resemblance to the American bison. It is generally covered with nearly black
hair, longer and more abundant than that which covers the rest of the body, the
prevailing tinge of which is a warm chestnut. The natives use the skin which
covers the hump in the manufacture of shields, which they assert to be sabre
proof. We must also remark the whiteness of the legs from the hoof to the
knee, which has obtained for the bison the epithet of “gaitered” from the
hunters. The average height observed among these animals, when completely
developed, is from fifteen to sixteen hands.

The bison inhabits the higher regions of Central India: during the daytime
the herds keep to the tablelands or to the small thickly wooded defiles, where
there is a spring or a piece of water to be found ; in the night they go to graze
on the high grass of the nullahs or the young shoots of bamboo, which is a great
dainty to them. Every herd is composed of ten to fifteen cows with their calves,
accompanied by some young bull, which appears to direct the troop. The old
bulls, excepting in the rutting season, live completely in solitude.

The bison would seem to have an imperfect sight, but it has an extremely
keen sense of hearing and of smell, which renders it difficult to approach. Some
hunters have represented it as one of the most terrible animals of the forest,
rushing upon men or elephants as soon as it perceives them; but to say the
truth, although the bison does not seem to fear the attack of any animal, not even
of the tiger, yet it is timid, and only becomes dangerous when it finds itself
driven to bay, or when it is exasperated by a wound; then its rage and tenacious
ferocity know no bounds, and more than one ill-fated hunter has fallen a victim
in similar encounters.

April 15th.—Early in the morning the taloukdar, accompanied by some of

* Bos or Gaveus gaurus.
t Bos americanus, also wrongly called buffalo.
BISON HUNTING. 413

his attendants, came to fetch us at the station-house. We set out immediately,
and after a short gallop found ourselves once more in the forest we passed through
yesterday. A long run across a wild and deserted region brought us to the

THE INDIAN BISON,

 

summit of a terrace with steep sides, whence we commanded an extensive view of
the whole country towards Dumoh. We alighted here to partake of a frugal
breakfast, and to vive the shikarees an opportunity of reconnoitring the herd
which has been signalised to the taloukdar. They soon returned, and then, leav-
414 INDIA.

ing our horses behind, we quitted the plateau and penetrated into the dense
thicket which covered one of its declivities. The heat was oppressive ; it was
ten o’clock; the sun burned the ground, and pierced through the foliage which
hung droopingly from the branches. According to our guides, it was a favour-
able time for approaching the bisons, who, overcome by the heat, were sleeping
in the thicket. I cannot help making the reflection that, in order to profit by
this moment, we were exposing ourselves very rashly to the attacks of an April
sun, At last, after much wearisome exertion and numerous scratches, we reached
the edge of a narrow ravine, forming a small amphitheatre, at the bottom of which
grew quite a forest of gigantic bamboos. To reach this cover, which conceals the
bisons from us, we should have to descend a slope for a distance of about fifty
yards, on which some naked shrubs would afford us but a poor shelter. Without
making this attempt, we took up a position at the entrance to the ravine, while
one of the shikarees made the circuit of the cover to drive the herd towards us,
We soon perceived the man on the opposite slope, but the bisons had already
scented him; the bamboos were violently shaken, and like a flash the herd
appeared before us, the cows with lowered heads at full gallop, breathing noisily,
the young ones leaping with fright. They passed before us like an avalanche;
our shots were fired simultaneously ; one of the animals, doubtless hit, halted for
a moment, and I fired another shot, which only had the effect of making him
start off again. But while the others disappeared in the distance the wounded
animal stayed behind, halting finally some five or six hundred yards’ distance
from us. We were soon close upon it, and a bullet brought it to the ground;
unfortunately it was only a young bull, with budding horns, but nevertheless it
was a splendid booty. The taloukdar, stimulated by this success, wanted us to
continue our pursuit ; but I was sufficiently contented with the result, and was
longing to regain Koumari as quickly as possible; to seek repose, after this terrible
run, in the cool koti of the hospitable gendarmerie.

April 17ti—Taking advantage of a splendid moonlight, we crossed by night
the chain of the Piperia Ghat, which separates Koumari from Dumoh. The road
keeps to the heights the whole length of the way; the spots we passed are of
the greatest wildness, the ground bare or covered with brushwood, and intersected
by ravines and narrow valleys. Yielding to drowsiness, I fell asleep on our
snug houdah without mistrusting the rays of the perfidious planet which was
illuminating our pathway. Dawn awakened me to find myself completely
blinded, through the effects of what might be termed a moonstroke; and I felt
all the symptoms of regular ophthalmia. In this pitiable plight I arrived at the
bungalow of Dumoh, where a few strong tea-baths restored my sight. It appears
that similar accidents are common. The moon does not always deprive you of
sight only, but often occasions swellings of the entire face, accompanied by illness
and fever. The natives, well acquainted with these effects, never sleep in the
open air at night without covering the face with some tolerably thick material.

Soon after our arrival, we received a visit from Mr. R———, Commissioner of
the province, who, having had notice of our coming through a friend; came to
offer us hospitality, and obliged us to instal ourselves in his charming residence.

Dumoh is the chief town of the English province of that name, and forms
part of the administration of the Central Provinces. The town contains only
twelve thousand inhabitants, and most of the houses are of pis¢; but still its
THE INDUSTRIAL MUSEUM. * ars

busy bazaars, clean and well-kept streets, the great number of public edifices
which ornament it, the new buildings rising up on all sides, denote an unusual
degree of prosperity, which it owes entirely to the system of government intro-
duced by Sir Richard Temple.

Among the institutions foundef by Sir R. Temple must be mentioned the
Industrial Museum, which is to be found in every town of the Central Provinces.
At Dumoh it was the Commissioner who did the honours for us. By the side of
the instruments and machines I remarked specimens of all the productions of the
country, whether cultivated or wild, with an explanation in the native tongue of
the best means for their utilisation. It was a thorough innovation, which I was
assured had already produced excellent results, Nor were the arts overlooked,
for I found some caskets, some native bronzes, and, finally, some antique sculptures,
among which was a magnificent monolith boar,

The office for the distribution of the premiums paid to the natives for every
wild beast’s head is also placed among the buildings of the Museum. When the
hunter makes his declaration of the result of his expedition, he has to deliver up
the skins of the beasts killed by him. On witnessing the fruit of one year’s
premiums for this district alone, the spoils of tigers, bears, and panthers piled in
bales, it was easy to form an idea of the profusion of wild beasts contained in the
entire extent of Goundwana. The provinces of Saugor and Dumoh, as well as of
Bhopal, were at one time infested by numbers of lions of the Asiatic species. It
is well known that these lions are distinguished from their African brethren of
the same species by the small size of the mane in the male. The reason of their
disappearance in Central India is yet unexplained, but it is supposed that the
advances of civilisation have driven them back into the almost unexplored forests
which spread beyond Amarkantak. Two, however, were killed some years ago, to
the south of Dumoh itself.* The only parts of India where a limited number of
them may be found are:Kattywarf and the desert of Thoul.

April 19th—On leaving Dumoh we returned to the wild zone. The ground
was stony, and covered with low jungle, to which the heat had already imparted
a cheerless and desolate appearance. For several hours we journeyed on, without
coming across a single habitation or any trace of a human being. The group
of the Vindhyas still continued towards the west in gentle undulations, only
letting a few insignificant. peaks overtop the level of their tablelands ; the
height of which, however, was more than two thousand feet above the level of
the sea.

Within ten leagues of Dumoh, we reached the bungalow of Puturia, pic-
turesquely situated under the shade of large trees, on the brink of a little marshy
lake, in which aquatic game was abundant, and I made a plentiful provision of it
for ourselves and our servants. For the first time I killed a sards, a bird I had
hitherto respected. The sarfs, or Antigone crane, is one of the largest birds of
India; his size being superior to that of the Arghila, or “Philosopher Bird,”
which our Zoological Gardens have familiarised to Europe. Covered with a
smooth and silky plumage, of a beautiful pearl-grey shade, he carries, on a long

* A Calcutta newspaper announced in the year 1868 that a lion had been killed in the neighbourhood

of Allahabad.
+ It is believed that no tiger has ever been killed in Kattywar ; lions only are found there, and they

are called by the natives oontia-wdg, or camel-coloured tigers. —Ep.
416 INDIA.

straight neck, a delicate head capped with red, and armed with a short, pointed
beak, The thickness of his long feet in no way detracts from the elegance of
his walk. The Hindoos adopt the saras as the emblem of conjugal fidelity, and
with good reason, They are always to be met with in pairs; and if one of them
happens to be killed, the survivor will not abandon him, but flies above the
hunter who carries off his companion, uttering piercing cries in a truly lamentable
tone. The Mussulmans, less poetic, set much value on the flesh of the bird,
although it is black and tough: its breast, if properly prepared, might just
tolerably imitate beef. During the night the lake of Puturia became a rendezvous
for all the wild beasts in the neighbourhood.

April 20th.—After a long march we encamped this morning on the banks of
the Bedsi, a charming river, whose limpid waters flow between high, narrow banks
hung with verdure.

Near our tents the Bedsi was spanned by a fine suspension-bridge thirteen
feet in width and two hundred and fifty feet long; being the first specimen
of the kind built in India. To Presgrave, the engineer who was entrusted with
its construction in 1828, belongs the singular credit of having accomplished this
delicate work with the aid of native workmen alone, and of employing only the
iron of the country. I must add that this district possesses in great abundance
a very rich species of ore, lying on the surface of the earth, and from which is
produced iron the most valued in all India ; and we may well be surprised that
this source of wealth should never yet have been turned to account.

In the evening we accomplished the distance which divided us from Saugor,
where we arrived at midnight; and a luxurious bungalow, for which we were
again indebted to Sir R. Temple, enabled us to give some days’ rest to our servants
and beasts of burden.

Saugor is the chief town of the province of the same name, ceded to the
English in commutation of subsidy by the Peishwa in 1818. As its name
suggests,* it is situated on the borders of a magnificent lake, where it displays
itself picturesquely in the form of an amphitheatre, on a small height crowned by
the ancient citadel and the palace of the Peishwa; and its bazaars are the centre
of a busy trade. At the distance of a mile and a half from the Indian town lie
the extensive cantonments appropriated to an English regiment, one of sepoys,
two batteries of artillery, and a squadron of cavalry. The houses of the officers
and civil functionaries, the tribunals, prisons, arsenals, and churches, constitute a
thoroughly European city; and, thanks to its indefatigable governor, neither
boulevards nor squares are wanting. There is even a vast public garden, with
grottoes, cascades, &c.

By a lucky chance we found several officers of the Nowgong garrison at
Saugor, who, with graceful courtesy, did the honours of the town and its environs
for us. At a distance of two leagues from the cantonments lie the ruins of the
ancient Saugor, which still cover the heights of an isolated plateau, but afford no
object of special interest. During our stay at the bungalow we received a visit
from two sdpwallahs (serpent-charmers), who trade in reptiles. Among other
rare species they offered us a specimen of the gouldbi or rose serpent, the skin of
which is variegated with coral tints; and another, the head and tail of which are
so much alike as to be distinguished with difficulty. Not finding any cobra di

* Sagur, which the English have converted into Saugor, signifies lake, or lacustral.
SERPENT-CHARMERS. 4ly

capello in their collection, I mentioned the fact to them. “What would be the
use of troubling ourselves,” they said in reply, “with a serpent which we
can get whenever it is needed? Do you wish for one? The very yard of your

»

gee

Fhigae

ALbG

 

bungalow will furnish it!” My curiosity was excited, and I defied them to find
me a serpent in the short space of time they seemed to think necessary. One of

the sépwallahs immediately divested himself of his clothes, all save the lungouti;
2D

SERPENT-CHARMERS.
ae INDIA.

and, seizing his towmril, or charmer’s flute, he invited me to follow him. On
reaching the back of the bungalow, where the ground was covered with briars
and stones, he placed the instrument to his mouth, and produced from it some
piercing sounds, intermingled with softer modulations, while with his body bent
forwards he narrowly scanned the vegetation. After a moment he pointed out a
spot to me; and, on looking towards it, I sawa serpent’s head issuing from beneath
a stone. With the rapidity of a flash of lightning the charmer dropped his instru-
ment, and, seizing the reptile with marvellous skill, flung it into the air, and
caught it by the tail as it was falling to the ground. On examining it, it turned
out to be only a harmless adder. The sdpwallah continued his search with
impassioned gestures bordering on the comic; and in less than a second the
toumril dropped, the reptile was flung into the air and descended, when the
Indian, with triumphant coolness, presented to me the tail of a frightful cobra
over three feet in length. The hideous reptile struggled; but with a rapid
movement the charmer seized him by the back of the head, and, opening his jaws,
showed me the terrible fangs which distil death. This proved that there was no
trickery, for the serpents which the charmers carry about with them are always
fangless. He then took a pair of small pincers, and carefully drew out every
fang, thus rendering the reptile powerless to harm. Nevertheless, whether by
accident or from bravado, he received a slight puncture, and the blood flowed from
one of his fingers; but without any emotion he sucked the wound forcibly, and
applied a small black porous stone to it, which he represented to be an antidote
against the bite of the cobra. I bought a piece of him; but, on analysing it, I
found that the stone was nothing more than a calcined bone of very fine texture.
After this cobra hunt, the sipwallahs made us witness all the tricks which they
perform with the serpents. There is one especially which bears a striking
resemblance to the famous miracle of Moses before Pharaoh. The juggler,
having no other garment on him but the lungouti, chose a serpent of a harmless
species, and placed it ostensibly in a basket, which he covered with a lid. He
then rose and flung his arms about, the while muttering some cabalistic words
which his companion accompanied on a tambourine. Suddenly he armed him-
self with a flexible wand, which he whirled for some minutes above his head, and
then suddenly flung at our feet, where it arrived in the form of a serpent. In’
spite of the closest attention on two repetitions of this feat, I could not detect the
moment when the wand was exchanged for the serpent. The trick is executed so
rapidly that credulous people would swear the transformation was real. The
most plausible explanation of it is that the charmer, while pretending to place
the serpent under the lid of the basket, slips it in the folds of his lungouti,
where the reptile, doubtless already trained, coils itself up and remains motion-
less; after which all he has to do is to effect the substitution of the serpent for
the wand under the eyes of the spectator; and this he effects by simultaneously
flinging behind him the wand, which his comrade secures, and throwing down
before him the reptile concealed on his person. The execution of this feat does
not, however, demand more astonishing skill than that he had already exhibited
in the cobra hunt, where he had to seize with the rapidity of lightning the
. of the reptile, which offers barely a few inches to hold on by out of its
ole.

The two charmers I had to deal with were not ordinary men, and were re-
RAHTGURH. 419 ‘

garded by the natives with great veneration ; yet two rupees paid them for this
two hours’ exhibition seemed, in their eyes, a splendid remuneration.

April 24th.—After an interval of rest, and with a fresh supply of oxen,
we again set out on the road towards Bhopal. Our course during the morning

 

witOlBR An?

BRINJARREES.

lay across a charming country, interspersed with wooded hills, smiling valleys,
and fine plains. <a

At Rahtgurh we found a bungalow, and made a halt. Rahtgurh is situated
on the steep banks of the beautiful river Bhina, which is crossed at this point by
a superb viaduct; and it commands a fine panorama. At the distance of about
420 INDIA.

half a mile towards the east stands the ancient citadel of Rahtgurh (Castle of
Night), with its battlemented ramparts, its gates, and its ruins of palaces and
temples; at its foot lies the little town, surrounded with trees and cultivation.
The plain is enclosed by grand mountains, whence sprang high columns of smoke,
causing them to resemble so many volcanoes; they were the burning jungles,
surrounding us during the night with a circle of flames. During the day
we witnessed the passage of a caravan of Brinjarrees. Few sights are more
picturesque than these caravans on the march, with their thousands of oxen, and
their escorts of men of warlike aspect and strangely attired women. The whole
family is there; the infant being slung to the back of its mother, and the young
children perched on the milking cows, which carry besides all the household
utensils. To the old man, who is a member of the council, is reserved the
honour of mounting a starveling pony. They are said to practise the abduction of
male children and female infanticide. Their utility as carriers is incontestable, and
has earned for them the protection of the English Government, which constantly
employs their services. They are fated, however, to see their occupation mono-
polised by the railroads at no very distant period, when they will be compelled
to abandon their wandering life. They are reckoned as numbering at the present
time some hundreds of thousands; but, to say the truth, these figures have never
yet been confirmed by any regular census.

On attentively considering the type of these Brinjarrees, their manners and
some of their customs, such as the necromancy practised by the women, their
primitive marriage ceremonies, and the practice charged against them of stealing
children, many travellers have persisted in recognising them as the parent branch
of that wandering race which, under the names of Bohemians and Zingaris, have
spread themselves all over Europe. Whatever may be the probabilities in favour
of such an hypothesis, this interesting question can only be solved by a minute
observation of the customs of the Bohemians of Europe, and especially by the
study of their idioms and their legends ; all of which are researches still remaining
for the most part to be undertaken.
CHAPTER XLI.
THE VALLEY OF BHILSA.
Bhilsa,—Ruins of Gharispore.—How there may be Tépe and Tépe.—Asoka and the Fair Devi.

—The Hill of Oudghiry.—Grotto and Inscription of Sanakanika.—The Varaha Avatar.—
Vishnu and Mahadeva.—The Dwelling-place of a Tiger.—A terrible Neighbour.

=) PRIL 25TH.—Leaving Rahteurh, and crossing the fine bridge
f over the Bhina, we passed from English territory to that of his
Scindian highness; and, to make us appreciate the change all
t the more, the excellent road we had followed from Saugor gave
t place to a wretched pathway, which, starting capriciously across
the ploughed land or the stony jungle, ascended in a direct line
the steepest slopes of the mountains which obstruct the horizon. On quitting
the valley, we soon penetrated into the midst of these heights, covered with
wood and peopled by some tribes of Gounds; and, after a wearisome march of
four hours, we reached the southern side of the group, and sighted the valley of
Bhilsa, with its magnificent plains, its five rivers, and its picturesque girdle of
mountains displayed before us. The islets of large trees which surrounded the
villages stood out in strong relief against the even ground; and, in the very centre
of this immense circus, rose an enormous stone cube, resembling the mausoleum
of some Titan. This was the rock of Loharghur, the “iron citadel” which
commands Bhilsa.

Bhilsa! With the exception of some few learned men, who in all Europe has
ever heard of the name? Yet it is the name of a place that may justly claim
to rank with the most celebrated spots on the globe. For it is in this obscure
valley of Bhilsa, buried in the heart of the Vindhya solitudes, that a miraculous
chance has preserved to us the first authentic monuments of Indian civilisation,
or rather, I may say, the original types of the architecture of the whole of the
extreme East. Nor do I think I exaggerate in placing these monuments on an
equality with those most renowned in Egypt and Assyria. Do they not present
to us, in an incomparable series of basso-relievos, a faithful and highly finished
picture of the life, manners, and civilisation of India twenty-five centuries before
our own? Was it not amongst their innumerable inscriptions that the ingenuity
of a Prinsep, the Champollion of India, found the key to the enigma in which all
the first centuries of Indian history were involved? From the high point on
which I stood, I could take in at.a glance all those eternally celebrated places
which surround Bhilsa as with a splendid glory. To the north lay Beesnuggur,
the beloved city of the great Asoka; to the west, the rocks of Oudghiry with
their sacred grottoes, Sanchi, the wonder of all India, and Satdhara and Sonar! ;

  

 
422 INDIA.

to the south, Bhojpour and Andher, cities of tombs, where rest the ashes of the
first apostles of Buddhism; and lastly, at my feet, modestly displaying its huts
and ruins, on a bare rock, was the ancient Gharispore.

Tearing myself away from this contemplation, I rejoined our party, which
had got already to the foot of the mountain. On the borders of the forest a fine
lake, stocked with ducks and flamingoes, in which the houses of Gharispore are
gracefully reflected, came to view; and on the opposite side of the village, at the
foot of a perpendicular height, stood a comfortable bungalow.

So far back as three centuries before our era Gyaraspore, the modern Gharis-
pore, was a flourishing city, and formed part of the empire of Magadha; and it
passed in tuyn from the kings of Malwa to the Touars and the Chandélas, until,
after a long and wearying series of vicissitudes, it became in the eighteenth
century a simple dependency of the Mahrattas. The poor city is now nothing
more than a village; but, testifying its ancient magnificence, it still possesses
some remarkable ruins, without counting its innumerable bas-reliefs, statues, and
sculptures, which stand out everywhere from among the walls of its huts, from
the inner casing of its reservoirs, and even from the pavements of its streets.

First, within a few yards of the bungalow, towers a ruin of exquisite elegance,
consisting of four pillars with depressed angles, covered with delicate sculptures,
with cylindrical shaft, supporting a stone ceiling encircled by a frieze of bas-
reliefs. These four columns formed the centre of an ancient Jain temple, of
which the gate of the sanctuary, a very jewel of sculpture, still remains.

In the neighbourhood of this ruin, distinguished by the natives under the
name of Pourana-Mundil, is to be seen another temple in the same style, but in
a far better state of preservation. It is a small edifice, divided into three leaning
chapels, surmounted by a pyramidal dome; and its exterior presents a perfect
profusion of small statues, unluckily much damaged by atmospheric action. The
facade is preceded by an elegant peristyle, supported by four pillars in the same
style as those of the Pourana-Mundil; and four figures, back to back, supporting
the architrave with their hands, form the capital. As to the facade itself, it is a
wonderful embroidery, which the sculptor has loaded with all the riches of Jain
architecture. Let us take for example one of the gates opening on to the peri-
style. In the centre of the pediment, facing the spectator, a deity, mounted on
a chariot, is driving ten horses at a gallop, sculptured entirely out of the stone.
At each angle grins a mask, full of expression, and connected by festoons of
flowers ; and from the sides depend delicious garlands of flowers, and genii carved
in relief, terminating in a cord of censers with chains, while the threshold it-
self bears several roses, and is flanked by genii brandishing fly-flaps. In each
chapel is enthroned a seated Tirthankar, who has occupied for centuries the place
that before him was occupied by a Buddha. It is in fact proved that even in
this valley, the most flourishing sanctuary of Buddhism, Jainism reigned supreme
even in the fourth century.

In the village itself several interesting monuments are still in existence;
amongst others a very curious triumphal gate, which seems to me to be a copy
of the famous gate of Sanchi. It consists of two square pillars, supporting super-
posed architraves, separated one from the other by small pilasters; the middle of

the upper architrave being crowned with a mitre similar to that worn by the
Vaishnava divinities.
“

BHILSA., 423

On the southern front of the hill stands another temple of great antiquity.
At this point the rock forms an almost perpendicular wall, descending to the
bottom of the valley. The temple itself leans against it, and rests on a terrace of
Cyclopean structure, over eighty feet in height, which fronts the rock like a
bastion. Here we found an eminently Buddhist work. The general order of its
architecture, the arrangement of its ornaments, and the design of its basso-
relievos ‘presented a perfect analogy to the Vihara at Gwalior. The plan, how-
ever, reminds one of the Jain style. The inner hall is surrounded by. columns
supporting a fine dome of concentric links; and against the wall, towards the
end, stand a great number of statues of colossal dimensions, the largest measuring
not less than seventeen feet in height. All these idols represent the Tirthankars ;
and their presence, as well as their antiquity, affords another proof of the short
duration of Buddhist supremacy. The natives to this day give this temple the .
name of Madhou-Deo-Ka-Busti, or the sanctuary of the god Madhou, which was
one of the names applied to Krishna.

April 27th—From Gharispore to Bhilsa, we traversed a long tract of fertile
and well-cultivated land, in which magnificent plantations of tobacco and poppies
were especially conspicuous. At Bhilsa we found every one prepared for our
arrival. In a short time we received a visit at our bungalow from the Souba,
the representative of Scindia, accompanied by the Faujdar (military commander),

.the Dewan (civil director), and all the functionaries of his little Court. The
governor, after presenting the customary dalis, informed me that, in accordance
with the instructions he had received from Gwalior, he placed himself entirely at
my disposal. All I asked him was to provide me with the necessary guides for
my exploration of the neighbouring ruins; but the Mahratta jurisdiction, it
seemed, terminated at the Oudghiry hills, and the tépes were in the territory of
her Highness the Begum of Bhopal. Nevertheless the Souba offered to furnish
me with the necessary guides, and even insisted on adding four soldiers from his
garrison to my escort. It may be remembered that our troop already formed a
very respectable contingent; but, fearing to offend the worthy Souba, I was
obliged to accept his four soldiers. I could not then foresee the consequences
that were to ensue from their presence in my camp.

Bhilsa is the chief town of one of the richest districts of Malwa, part of the
kingdom of Scindia. Under the name of Bhadravati, it was the capital of an
important state, several centuries before our era. The Hindoo annals mention
one of its kings, Yavanasva, of the Lunar race, who reigned 1400 years B.C.
This prince possessed a horse of dazzling whiteness, endowed with wonderful
faculties, and considered as the palladium of the kingdom. The celestial animal
was carefully kept on the summit of the inaccessible rock of Loharghur; but, in
spite of these precautions, the Pandoo* heroes succeeded in carrying him off, and
sacrificed him.t

* The five Pandoo, or Pandava, brothers, the heroes of the Mahabharata. It is believed that they
flourished in the fifteenth century before Christ.

+ The Aswamédha, or horse-sacrifice, was practised by the first Aryans, and continued to be a custom
in India until the period of the Mussulman invasion. This sacrifice could only be accomplished by a
supreme king, and thus was a mark of his supremacy over all the other princes of India ; and it may be
affirmed that the rite was the cause of the fall of the Hindoo empire, by the continual rivalries it excited
among the princes. The epic poem of the Mahabharata contains, in its fourteenth book, the Aswa-
medhika Parva, a description of the rites of this sacrifice.
424 INDIA.

Towards the seventh or eighth century, Bhadravati was raised from its ruins
by a Bheel chieftain, who surrounded it with walls, and gave it the name of
Bhilsa. When, in the year 1230, the Emperor Altamsh took possession of it, it
was the seat of a Rajpoot prince of the Chohan clan. It was not, however,
finally wrested from the Hindoos until the year 1570, under Akbar; and in
1806 the feeble Mahmoud yielded it up to the Mahrattas.

The ancient city now consists only of ruins. It is owing to the fanatic zeal
of Aurungzeb that no ancient monument is now to be found in it. In the
simple mosque which he caused to be built with the stones of pagan sanctuaries,
it is barely possible to discover some fragment of the ancient sculptures, though
the current story is that the foundations of the mosque cover innumerable idols
which the iconoclast Alumgheer had caused to be buried there.

The eight or ten thousand souls forming the present population occupy
beyond the old walls a large suburb of gloomy appearance, whose houses, built of
pisé, are grouped without regularity along muddy lanes. A tolerably important
trade, however, is carried on there, sustained chiefly -by the famous opium of
the district, and a tobacco celebrated throughout Rajasthan for its excellent
quality. The only curiosity in Bhilsa is a superb cannon of the time of Jehan-
ghir, which lies, I know not for what reason, on the ground of a small square in
the suburb. It is a splendid piece of bronze, nineteen feet and a half in length,
with a bore of ten inches. The bronze is carved over its entire surface with
raised ornaments of a remarkable design, and the trunnion-rests issue from heads
of monsters. .

This gigantic cannon is the pride of the citizens of Bhilsa, and innocently
contributes to the hoaxing of the traveller. Of those who at rare intervals adopt
this route, whether officers or functionaries on circuit, there is not one who, as
soon as he arrives at the bungalow, does not hasten to inquire about the way to
visit the famous ruins which Cunningham has made known under the name of
the tépes of Bhilsa. The first native he meets with offers to guide the impatient
tourist ; and, after a quarter of an hour’s walking among the lanes of the suburb,
they arrive at the square adorned by the cannon of Jehanghir; when the Indian,
exhibiting the piece with pride, exclaims, “This is the tope of Bhilsa.” ‘There-
upon the traveller generally gets angry; but he is in the wrong. Tope in the
present dialect means cannon, while the monuments which the Europeans call
tdpes are only known by the natives under the name of bihtd.* The dépes, how-
ever, are situated some miles from Bhilsa, in the territory of Bhopal.

A little to the east of the town, as I have before noted, stands the imposing
mass of the Loharghur, a block of sandstone of great height, whose naked and
perpendicular sides and horizontal summit form an almost perfect cube, resem-
bling some Titan’s monument. The summit is reached by a narrow ascent in a
very dilapidated state, but nothing is to be seen there but the drinking-trough of
the wonderful horse of Yavanasva, As a compensation, however, we enjoyed a
magnificent panorama of the valley from this spot, which has the advantage of
enabling the archeologist to form an idea of the respective positions of each
group of monuments he will have to visit.

The day after my arrival at Bhilsa, I received the Begum’s firmans through
the medium of the English Agent at the Court of Bhopal, as well as the invita-

* Bihtd, literally, a heap, or pile, or eminence.
HILL OF OUDGHIRY. 425

tion addressed to me by the princess to come and visit her capital. Major Wil-
loughby Osborne had had the kind forethought to add to this package a detailed
plan of the valley of the tdpes, accompanied by some directions; and both plan
and directions, I thankfully acknow]edge, were of the greatest use to me in my
explorations. Within a short distance of Bhilsa is the site occupied by the ancient
city of Beesnuggur, or Vessnagara, founded by King Rukmangada in the Dwapoor
Youk, or age of copper, that is to say, one million three hundred thousand years
ago. The Indian annals fortunately afford us, besides this fabulous notion, a
more precise date, which proves that, as early as the third century B.c., Bees-
nugegur was a large and flourishing city. Indeed, during the reign of his father
Bimbasara, in the year 274 B.C., Asoka, while proceeding to his seat of govern-
ment at Oujein, stopped at Beesnuggur;* where he married the fair Devi,
daughter of the chief of the municipality, and who must have been the mother of
Mahendra, who introduced Buddhism into Ceylon. The city extended from the
confluence of the Betwa and the Besali to the hills of Oudaya Ghiry, that is to
say, a length of about two miles; and over the whole extent the plain still
exhibits heaps of stones and foundations of walls: but no monument worthy of
interest is to be found there. The confluence of the Betwa and the Besali is
regarded as a triveni, or place of junction of three rivers; the third river being
formed by the rain-water; and a much-frequented fair is still held there, the
origin of which dates back to the fabulous Rukmangada. Here the Betwa flows
over a bed formed of large slabs of sandstone, of very picturesque appearance,
while some pretty modern temples are gracefully grouped on the promontory
formed by the two rivers. The Brahmins of these temples possess an ancient
purwana, which interdicts fishing over a radius of some miles; the fish therefore
swarm at the entrance to the ghat; and, when they hear the voice of the priests,
they may be seen crowding in shoals, and springing out of the water to receive a
few grains...

April 29th.—To the west of Bhilsa, on the left bank of the Betwa, extends
the little range of the Oudghiry, or Oudaya Ghiry, “ Mountain of the Rising Sun.”
It is a group composed of white sandstone, about a mile in length, rising gradu-
ally from south to north, where its highest point scarcely exceeds a hundred and
eighty feet. The rock is horizontally stratified in thick and compact layers; and,
easy to work in the quarry, it acquires, from contact with the air, a hardness
which renders it equal to marble. It thus unites all the most favourable qualities
for the excavation of subterraneous chambers.

The eastern slope of the hill forms a sunken curve, in the centre of which are
the principal excavations and sculptures; a small pond surrounded by large trees
lies close by ; and its cool and shady banks afforded an excellent spot for camping.

I proceeded first to the temple of Sourya, the sun-deity, which is a small
cubical apartment, hewn in the mass of sandstone ; its sides are twelve feet in
depth and two and a half in height; its walls are bare, and still show marks of
the chisel; and a small square niche constructed at the extremity contains a very
simple altar, where a lingam of Siva has replaced the original idol. The entrance
opens on to a verandah formed by an overhanging projection of the rock; and
light pilasters and a few fine sculptures frame the doorway, which is small and

* The Buddhist annals also give this city the name of Chaityaghiry, or the Chaityas city, doubtless on
account of its proximity to the valley of the Tépes, or Chaityas.
426 INDIA.

rectangular; but the fagade has no ornament except a row of empanelled bas-
reliefs covering the basement of the wall. On the first panel is seen a warrior
with his hair gathered up, leaning on a round shield ; the second bears on it an
image of the sun-deity holding a sceptre and a wheel; the third represents
Vishnu triumphing over the buffalo demon, or the struggle between the Aryans
and the aboriginals. Above these sculptures we read the following inscription:
“Completed on the eleventh day of the bright half of the moon of the month
Stravana, in the year 82, by the great King Sanakanika, son of the Maharajah

i

 

’ ye

a

THE VARAHA AVATAR, AT OUDGHIRY.

Vishnu Daca, grandson of the Maharajah Chagalika [who was himself] son of the
supreme monarch, the king of kings, Chandra Goupta, beloved of the gods.” This
important inscription fixes the date of the excavation of the temple at the year
160 of our era, and irrefragably establishes the origin of the caves of Oudghiry.
To the left of the temple of Sourya the rock bears a magnificent sculptured
group, nine feet in height and eighteen in length, representing the Varaha Avatar,
or the metamorphosis of Vishnu into a wild boar. According to the Hindoo
legend, the god took this form to raise the earth above the waters which covered
it. This remarkable composition much surpasses, both in execution, modelling,
TEMPLE OF MAHADEVA, 427

and design, all the later works which are found at Ellora, ‘Ajunta, and other
parts of India. The principal figure, Varaha, is nine feet in height; the god,
firmly planted with one hand on his hip and the other on his thigh, is preparing
to. make the effort by which he is to qaise the world. The attitude is well studied.
The boar’s head is attached to the shoulders like the head of an antique Mino-
taur; and to one of the bowed tusks which project from the jaw is suspended a
small naked woman, exquisitely modelled. Two genii are placed at the feet of
the god; one is the serpent Atisécha, the other a figure which cannot be recog-
nised from its state of mutilation; while behind him a page holds a parasol. This
group of statues is almost entirely detached from the quickstone in which it has
been sculptured. The background of the picture is in bas-relief, and represents,
in its lower part, the sea peopled with monsters, and above it a celestial choir,
composed of a hundred little musicians, ranged in three rows one above the other,
with the same symmetrical exactitude as the soldiers in one of Epinal’s pictures.
The reader will find all these details in the engraving which represents this
masterpiece of ancient Indian sculpture.

To the left of the Varaha Avatar the rock contains several small chambers ;
but we return to inspect the other curiosities of Oudghiry. We first passed
before a monolith temple, half buried in the ruins, the roof of which is crowned
by a round stone in the form of a table, about twenty feet in diameter; whence
a staircase leads to a narrow corridor, along which are ranged a great number of
excavations and sculptures. One of these latter is a colossal group of Vishnu
sleeping on the serpent Sechnaga, and carrying Brahma on a lotus-flower.

Passing this staircase, I kept along the foot of the hill, which here forms a
perpendicular wall, until I reached the subterraneous temple of Mahadeva. This
is the most spacious one on the whole hill. The inner hall occupies a surface of
about fifty square yards, and is a little more than nine feet in height, and in the
centre four pillars with indented capitals support the arch of the roof. The
temple is now dedicated to Siva, or Mahadeva; but an inscription scrawled on a
pillar by a pilgrim in the year 1036 proves that at that period it was still conse-
crated to Vishnu. This date is of great importance, as it decides the date of the
definitive triumph of the worship of Siva over that of Vishnu. The gate of the
temple, narrow and low, is surrounded by a triple frame of pilasters and bas-
reliefs of remarkable execution; and the frieze bears a very curious bas-relief, of
workmen manceuvring long levers to raise a stone. In front of this gate there
once stood a portico, whose arch has fallen in, leaving only two graceful columns
standing. ,

Just above the temple of Mahadeva the hill forms a perpendicular escarp-
ment a hundred and eighty feet high; and in the upper part of this wall open
the ancient cells of the Sramanas, communicating with each other by means of
giddy pathways.

In short, the excavations of Oudghiry offer nothing that can be compared to
the wonders of Karli or Ellora. They might even be passed by unobserved, if
their incontestable antiquity did not place them among the first types of the
subterranean temples of India. On the other hand, the sculptures which accom-
pany them bear traces of affinity to those of Sanchi, and far surpass other works
of the same kind.

After exploring the entire circumference of the hill, and visiting a great
428 INDIA.

number of grottoes, I climbed to the summit, where over the whole surface of the
plateau I found vestiges of the ancient quarries whence the materials employed

at Sanchi and Beesnuggur were procured.
While turning over these stones, I placed my foot on a black cobra, and only

TEMPLE OF MAHADEVA, OUDGHIRY.

 

escaped a mortal wound by a desperate spring. I had barely recovered from this
shock when, perceiving at a short distance off a large opening in the rock, which
seemed to me to lead to some ancient quarry, I entered it; but the moment I
crossed the threshold I heard the cries of my guides warning me of danger. On
A TERRIBLE NEIGHBOUR. * 429

looking round I was struck with terror, for the ground seemed literally strewed
with bones and carcases, some dried and others still bleeding. I was in the
dwelling-place of a tiger! Motionless, and convulsively clutching my gun, I
strove to pierce with my eyes the darkness which concealed the farther end of
the grotto; but, luckily for me, the master of the establishment was absent, and
I prudently beat a retreat. My reappearance was greeted by the hurrahs of my
brave companions, who had discreetly kept at a distance, and who urged me to
leave the place: but before following them I could not help gazing on the
delicious spot which commanded the entrance to the grotto. At my feet extended
a narrow valley covered with thickets, in the midst of which wound the Besali,
now rushing noisily over rocks, now slumbering under the shade of large trees ;
and before me, one above the other, rose wooded hills as far as Sanchi, whose
ancient chaitya exhibits its bald crown above the trees. Verily this tiger had
shown a true artist’s taste in the choice of his abode.

On my return to the encampment, the villagers related to me the exploits of
my lord the tiger, and urged me to rid them of him. But the heat had become
so overwhelming that I scarcely knew how to contrive to bear the temperature
of my portable laboratory,—indeed, what will always remain inexplicable to me
is how, in such a centre, I ever succeeded in preparing the plates with wet
collodion,—it is impossible to form an idea of the suffering and fatigue each one
of the photographs I took at this period of my journey cost me ;—that, when
night came, I only thought of getting to my narrow iron bed, to seek a little rest
there, leaving to others the honour of purging the country of the monster who
devastated it.

Nevertheless, on the second day after our arrival, an accident occurred which

caused me to repent, rather late, of my apathy. Night had already set in, and,
with the exception of some sentries, all in the camp had fallen asleep, when one
of our waggoners, pressed by thirst, rose and went to drink at the neighbouring
pond. Once there, the coolness of the water tempting him, he advanced knee
deep to sprinkle his body with it. The little pond, almost dried up, afforded
only one spot easy of access, and it was exactly that on which the waggoner
stood. He had been there several minutes, playing with the water, when he
fancied he heard a slight noise behind him, but he continued his amusement
without heeding it. It was our neighbour the tiger, however, coming, after some
copious feast, to assuage his thirst at the pool. As the peaceful proprietor of the
place, he waited some time for the Indian to give him room; but at last, losing
patience, and provoked at this want of good breeding, he approached and, pushing
the man aside with his paw, began quietly drinking. More dead than alive, the
waggoner, recognising his terrible companion, remained motionless where he had
fallen; the friendly stroke of the paw had, in fact, frightfully torn his arm; and
he waited patiently till the tiger had departed to give free vent to his yells, In
an instant all the camp was astir, and we soon discovered the luckless waggoner,
-who, still lying in his original position, seemed half stupefied. In the intense
excitement of the moment Schaumburg and I, springing to our guns, started with
a few men on the track of the tiger ; but he was too prudent an animal to consent
to wait for us, after all that uproar. We watched for him the next day at the
entrance to his abode, but with no better success ; and as for the waggoner, he
recovered after a few days’ nursing.
CHAPTER XLII.

SANCHI.

The Buddhist Tépes, their Origin and Transformation.—Power and Decline of Buddhism in
India.—The Monastery of Sanchi.—The Great Chaitya.—The Tépe of Kasyapa.—The
Dacoits pillage our Camp.—A Village of Hostages,—Justice in the Jungle.

@) EFORE passing on to describe the Buddhist topes of the valley
of Bhilsa, I think it necessary to give some explanations as to
the nature and origin of these edifices, which have no analogy
with any of the types known in Europe.

The name of tépe, now universally adopted by archeologists
is a derivative from the words thoupo in the Pali language, and
stowpa in Sanscrit; both of which mean literally a heap, a mound or eminence, a
tumulus. The tépe in reality is only a regularly constructed tumulus, imitating
the form of a massive hemispheric dome, placed in the centre of a circular platform
of variable height.

Two kinds of tépes are known,—the Chaitya, which is a simple altar dedicated
to Buddha; and the Daghoba, a funeral monument raised upon the relics of
Buddha, of his disciples, or of the dignitaries of his Church. Many authors have
asserted that the origin of this species of edifice dated only from the time of
Sakya-Mouni (543 B.c.); but it seems to be proved at the present day that, far
from being posterior to Buddha, this style constitutes one of the most ancient types
of religious architecture.

The first monument of which men grouped together in societies could conceive
was the funeral monument. At first, doubtless, it was the stone rolled on the
tomb of the hero who, by some useful invention or by some great exploit, had
raised them above the level of animals; and custom requiring that each one
should add his pebble or stone, and this pious usage becoming perpetuated from
generation to generation, the humble mound became a hillock, Such was the
origin of the tumulus—a rough, shapeless heap, similar to what we find amongst
all primitive nations, and such as the savage tribes of Asia and America still erect
before our eyes. Keeping pace with the progressive march of human knowledge,’
the tumulus at length attained to a regular form, and became ¢épe among the
Indians, as it elsewhere became cairn or pyramid. Then by degrees, tradition
getting dim, the primitive hero took his place among the demi-gods; and his
tomb was transformed into an altar and an idol. This idolatry, however, preserved
all its original simplicity, the people coming at certain periods and decking the

 
BUDDHIST TOPES. 43x
tépe with drapery and garlands, and invoking the saint’s name while they made
processions around its base. These ceremonies were regulated by no definite
ritual; no priest presided over them; and in process of time the Brahmins,
absorbed in their metaphysical controversies, abandoned the practice of this
antique worship to the people. Sala, desiring to win over the inferior classes
to himself, comprehended all the advantage of uniting himself with the popular
superstitions. He encouraged these customs, and, incorporating them in his
doctrines, recognised as primeval Buddhists the saints venerated by the people.
When preaching to the people of Vaisali, he personally exhorted them “to keep
up, to respect, and to revere the chaityas, and to make offerings to them as in the
past;” and elsewhere, discoursing with Ananda, his favourite disciple, he says,
“The thoupo is raised to the manes of the Chakravarta kings at the crossway of
four high roads;” which further proves to us that the tope was already an
attribute of royalty. Lastly, in his final conversation, he repeats to Ananda “that
it is meritorious to raise ¢houpos on the relics of the saints,” adding that “those who
should come and pray beside the tépes raised to his memory should be born again
in heaven.” The worship of tédpes, thus blended with Buddhism, became one of
its distinctive signs. On the death of Sakya, ten great cities of Magadha disputed
the possession of his relics, for the purpose of placing them in tépes; and soon his
monuments were spread over the whole of India.

Until this period none of the existing religions of India had raised any
monuments, the very nature of their doctrines forbidding it: but the adoption of
tépes by the Buddhists demonstrated to all of them the importance of this external
feature of religious worship. From that day religious architecture was created ;
and we shall see in what manner the opponents of Buddhism contrived to profit
by the type which was offered them.

The first tépes, before and after Sakya, were perfect hemispheres. Thus, in
the Mahawanso,* we find the King Dutthagamini (B.c. 160) inquiring of bis
architect what form he intends giving to a Chaitya. The architect, taking a little
water in his hand, throws it on the liquid contained in a golden goblet, and, pointing
to a hemispheric bubble of air floating for an instant on the surface, says, “I will
give it that form.”

From the second century before Christ the primitive hemisphere was elevated
on a circular basement, but slightly raised. | This, some centuries later, reached a
height equal to the radius of its circumference, and attained, in the sixth century,
the dimensions of its diameter. At this latter period the tépe had the form of a
cylindrical tower, crowned by a hemispheric skull-cap. These successive changes
may serve to establish at a glance the approximate date of the erection of any of
these monuments. The first topes were generally surmounted by a square altar
(ti), bearing an open parasol, the ancient,emblem of sovereign power. After the
death of Sakya, his disciples, desirous of exalting him above his ‘apocryphal
predecessors, placed three parasols on his Daghobas instead of one; the first
representing the kingdom of heaven, the second the dominion of the world, and
the third the triumph of the spirit freed from matter. These parasols, of
stone, were at first placed side by side; later on they were superposed, and this
rendered it necessary to consolidate their pavilions with light pilasters, which
formed a delicate tower of several storeys; and finally they were content with

* « Mahawanso,” Buddhist annals of Ceylon. Turner’s Translation.
#33 INDIA.

representing them by a massive cone, the links of which alone recalled the ever-
increasing number of superposed parasols. Such was the origin of the primitive
spire, which was the starting-point of that remarkable style of architecture of
which the Kheerut Khoumbh of Chittore, and the minaret of Koutub at Delhi,
represent the highest degree of perfection. While the Brahmins servilely imitated
the tdpe in its latest transformation, converting it into a heavy and massive type
of edifice well represented by the temples of Orissa, the Jains, with more graceful
intelligence, created the ellipsoidal tower which still so perfectly characterises the
architecture of India; and they arrived at this result by grouping several cylindrical
tépes in clusters.

But it was not in India alone that the tépe furnished the basis of religious
architecture. It was destined to become the prototype of all the monuments of
the extreme West, of the Malay islands, of Mongolia and Thibet, up to the borders
of China, and even as far as Japan. While in India, however, the hemisphere
rose and was transformed into a tower, beyond the Ganges it was lowered go far
as to disappear totally, and to be replaced by its ¢2, or spire, transformed in its
turn into the gigantic cone which characterises the monuments of Indo-China and
Thibet.

After this rapid account of the origin and transformations of tdpes, I probably
should speak of the religion itself which had made them its symbol; but the
dogmas and history of Buddhism have already been explained by me more than
once. I may add, however, that in my opinion the time has not yet come when
we can judge with perfect impartiality of the doctrine of Sakya-Mouni. Before
condemning it, it should be disentangled from the obscurities which still envelop
it. As yet we have no evidence in support of the famous theory of annihilation
which has been so much dwelt upon, and with which he has been specially
reproached. It seems to me impossible that he who first in all the world raised
his voice to proclaim the complete equality of all men, and to urge the love of
their fellow-creatures, patience, and humility, should have had no nobler aim to
propose to humanity. What is beyond doubt is that Buddhism, a religion pure
in its origin, became rapidly corrupted. Seeking only influence and success, its
priests burdened it with all the superstitions which fell in their way, and which
they found it better policy to attach to themselves than to oppose.

Another enigma still remains to be solved, and that is the cause of the
disappearance of Buddhism in the very country where it originated. The triumph
of the doctrine of Buddha was never complete in India, because it came in contact,
on its first appearance, with anciently established religions which had taken deep
root in the country. Under the reign of Asoka, it was able to attain a high
degree of splendour; but its fall was already foreshadowed. It had owed its
success to its humility; and its power was its destruction. The clergy became
over-powerful, devouring the soil, and causing kings to tremble ; equality became
an empty word. Its adversaries therefore leagued themselves together. The
Brahmins and Jains made every possible concession to the people. They absorbed
primitive fetishes, exalted the lowest passions, and created new divinities; and
then, calling to their aid the warlike races of the desert, with one simultaneous
effort they overthrew the stately edifice of Buddhism.

In the eighth century some sects still existed ; but three centuries later, hated
by the Jains, and despised by the people, they disappeared in a final cataclysm,
SANCHI, 433

on which history is silent, but whose ruins, disinterred from the bowels of the
earth, still reveal to us at the present day its frightful horrors.

* * * * * * *

Sanchi was the seat of one of the principal Buddhist establishments in India
from the time of Sakya. The first Pafi annals give it the name of Chaityaghiri,
or Mountain of the Chaityas; whence we may infer that it already possessed,
before the coming of Buddha, some popular tépe which had procured for it this
appellation. About the year 400 Bc. the community of Sanchi had become
sufficiently powerful to give rise to the seventh Buddhist schism, known under
the name of the schism of Chetiya. In the fifth century of our era, the Chinese
Fa-Hian visited Sanchi, and mentions it briefly. At this period the country was
in the possession of King Vaishnava of Sanakanika, whose capital rose at the very
foot of the sacred hill. A century later, the Jains drove the Buddhists from
Sanchi, and occupied the monastery—a fact which explains why the Chinese
Hiouen-Thsang, who travelled over all this part of India, makes no mention of so
famous a spot. It is not known at what period the hill was completely
abandoned ; but this desertion must in any case date back many centuries, for
the present inhabitants have not preserved any tradition connected with the
existence of the monastery itself: but it is probable that, in the midst of the
crisis of the tenth century, the valley was invaded by the Bheels of Malwa, and
returned to its state of barbarism. Yet, after all, it is impossible to account for
the miraculous chance which caused the monuments of Sanchi to escape the fury
of the victorious Brahmins and the vandalism of the Mussulmans. In 1822,
some Englishmen, travelling over the country, discovered them, and shamefully
pillaged them on the plea of archeology.

On the morning of the 2nd May we removed our camp from Oudghiry to
Sanchi, where we settled ourselves near the village, under the shade of the remains
of a sacred grove, which surround a large pond now dry, with stone sides and
broad stairs, dating from the Buddhist period. A beautiful smooth turf extended
from our tents to the foot of the sacred hill, which presents a perpendicular face
covered with a cloak of verdure; and on a low bare ridge abutting against this
rampart lie the few miserable hovels of modern Sanchi, which is forced to join
itself to the hamlet of Kanakhera in order to form a village.

The hill of Sanchi, which is situated on the left bank of the Betwa, is isolated
from the small chain of the Sonari, and is composed of a red sandstone of hard
and compact substance. The western slope forms a very gentle declivity, termin-
ating at a certain height in four tiers of plateaux, separated from each other by a
wall of rocks. The last plateau is three hundred feet above the level of the plain,
and commands the eastern slope, which forms an almost perpendicular escarpment.
The principal Buddhist edifices cover the two upper plateaux.

Immediately upon my arrival, I lost no time in climbing the little goat-path
leading to the village on the summit of the hill; and, crossing a denuded plateau
at the corner of which stands a small temple, I reached the foot of a staircase
guarded by two colossal statues; and there I found myself in the presence of the
Great Tépe. a

How can I describe the impression produced by this stately mass, rising
proudly in the midst of temples and colonnades, with its gigantic enclosure and

sculptured portals? All is grand here, all mysterious; the eye recognises no
2E
434 INDIA.

outline with which it is familiar; and the mind becomes confused in view of
these mighty memorials of times which hardly reveal themselves to us from
behind their veils of legends. A rapid description will enable the reader
to appreciate the importance of the sight I had the good fortune to con-
template.

The Great Tépe is a hemispheric dome, about ninety feet in diameter, placed
on a cylindrical basement fifteen feet in height, with a projection of nearly four
feet round the base. This projection, which forms a circular terrace reached by a
flight of steps with double balusters, was used for the perambulations of the
faithful who came to strew flowers or lay offerings on the tépe. The mass of the
tdpe is composed of large-sized bricks arranged in regular layers; and the exterior
casing is of slabs of white sandstone, two feet in thickness.

The sorry archeologists of 1822 effected on the southern side a deep breach,
which gives a perfect insight into its construction ; and by means of this breach
it is easy to reach the summit of the dome, which is level like a terrace. It was
formerly surmounted by a beautiful altar, which was also destroyed by these
mischievous antiquarians. Among the fragments which lie on the summit are to

be found portions of the two

+, superposed parasols which sur-

haiti maounted the altar. These para-

= sols were stone discs, six feet

in diameter; and the altar

itself was surrounded by a
massive Buddhist balustrade.

The different excavations
ee = ees made in the interior of the
Y/ a) tdpe have not brought to light
ae Li ue Z mn any relic; whence we must

COLONNADE OF THE GREAT TOPE OF SANCHI. conclude that it was a Chaitya
dedicated to the Adi-Buddha,
or Creative Spirit. From the form of the tépe, and its interior appearance,
the Chaitya must date from the sixth century B.c., perhaps even before
the time of Sakya. As for the outer casing of stone, it dates only from the
reign of Asoka (260-222 B.c.); at which period also we must fix the erection
of the Cyclopean colonnade which encircles the Chaitya, imparting to it one of
its grandest characteristics. This colonnade, which forms a slightly elliptical
enclosure, leaving a cloister nine feet in width round the basement of the tope,
belongs to a peculiar style, characteristic of the primitive architecture of India,
to which Cunningham has given the name of “Buddhist railing.” They are
monoliths with cut sides, nine feet in height, and six and a half inches in thick-
ness, They are connected together by three bars placed one above the other, and
support a heading composed of massive architraves, rounded at the summit. All
these pieces are simply fitted one in the other like parts of a framework; and
it is evident that the whole is merely a copy of an open-worked fencing.

This colonnade, erected during the reign of Asoka, affords us a striking
instance of the great movement instigated by that prince in favour of Buddhism.
Public subscriptions were opened in the principal cities to collect the necessary
funds for the decoration of the Chaitya of Sanchi; and wealthy private indivi-

 

  
    
     
  
      

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BD spat sing

Yi Soe
UY, Y WY
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SSS GRA BRS

 

   
 

     
   
  

 

  

SS CS

   
 

SS

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THE LAT. aoe

duals, municipalities, and communities hastened to contribute thereto. As an
acknowledgment of. these gifts, and to perpetuate their remembrance, the monks
inscribed the names of the contributors on the stones of the colonnade itself ;
and it was the number of these inscriptions, in which we always find repeated the
word “ Danam ” (signifying “ gift of”), which enabled James Prinsep to reconstruct
the ancient Pali alphabet, the tradition of which had been entirely lost.

Among the embellishments dating from the same period I must mention the
four statues of Buddha placed in the interior of the enclosure so as to face the
four entrances, which are situated according to the cardinal points; and also the
two magnificent lats which stand to the north and south of the tépe.

Like the tépe, the /dé or latti* is one of the earliest types of monument
conceived by men. At first it was the simple post, or dead trunk, planted in the
earth to mark a boundary, or to recall some glorious or tragic event; and the
post was succeeded by the stone, raised as we find it everywhere on the whole
surface of the old world, and lastly by the column. It is under this latter form
that we find the lat used by the Aryans. The column, a cylindrical monolith,
was always erected separately, and served to inscribe the edicts of the sovereign,
the dogmas of religion, or the records of a reign. It was only at a much later
period that they thought of utilising them and increasing their number to support
an arch, even if this were ever done in India, for it is a curious fact that the
architects of the country have always preferred to this ancient column type
the low square pillar which they had copied from the roughly squared beams of
their huts.

The Lions’ Lat, at Sanchi, is a magnificent specimen of this style. It was a
cylindrical shaft, polished, and without a pedestal, measuring about thirty feet ;
surmounted by a cupola-shaped capital, three feet in height; above which a
circular plinth, encircled by sacred ducks in relief, served as a pedestal for four
lions seated back to back. These animals may be considered as rivalling the
masterpieces of Grecian statuary ; Cunningham indeed asserts his belief that they
are the work of Grecian artists, sent to the court of Asoka by Ptolemy Philadel-
phus II. The total height of the lat, including the lions, was thirty-seven feet.
It now lies broken in several fragments beside the southern gate.

The northern lat had the same dimensions, but rested upon a square pedestal,
and bore a life-size statue of the Emperor Asoka. The shaft, with the exception
of the basement, has been carried away by the peasants, for whom it provided
the materials for their sugar-mills; the capital and the statue surmounting it still
lie on the ground.

Under the reign of Satakarni, third king of Magadha, of the Andhra dynasty
(19-37 of the Christian era), a new religious movement came to add to the
embellishments of Sanchi. Four ornamental gates were erected before the
entrances of the colonnade of the great Chaitya. These marvellous triumphal
arches, admirably sculptured, and covered with delicate bas-reliefs, form at the
present day the most interesting portion of the ruins of Sanchi ; and it may be
said, without exaggeration, that since then Asiatic art has produced nothing to be
compared with them.-

The design of these gates is of the extremest simplicity. The basement,
formed by two vertical monoliths, supports a third monolith, placed horizontally ;

* Literally, a staff or post.
436 INDIA.

and above this architrave two small pilasters, placed on a line with the lower
pillars, support a second horizontal monolith. The same arrangement is repeated
with a third architrave, which forms the heading of the gate. The different pieces
composing each gate are simply fitted in like carpenters’ work, by means of tenons
and mortises. This shows that the architect chose his model from a monument
in wood. He probably copied the light constructions erected during the festivals,
on which garlands and lamps were suspended.

The gates of Sanchi are the only specimens of this style which we find in
India; but, if the Jain architects have abandoned this original system, it has
followed Buddhism in all its peregrinations, firmly taking root by its side M.,
Humbert tells us that in Japan the ¢oris are the special characteristics of all the
places dedicated to religious worship; and it will be sufficient for the reader to
glance at the engravings which represent these Japanese toris, to recognise that
they owe their origin to the gates of Sanchi. The same observation applies to
the Chinese triumphal arches.

It now remains for us to speak of the bas-reliefs which decorate the gates.
These bas-reliefs cover the four sides of the pillars and architraves. They repre-
sent the principal scenes in the life of Buddha, religious ceremonies, processions
or royal cortéges, sieges and battles; and a series of more unpretending but
doubly precious pictures reproduce the interiors of palaces, apartments with their
furniture, and kitchens with their accessories, and, finally, dances and gymnastic
exercises. A detailed description of them, for which unfortunately I cannot find
room, would of itself form a complete picture of the history and life of the Indian
people during the centuries which preceded the birth of Christ. These bas-reliefs
unite a wonderful execution to great elegance of design ; and they are all the more
distinguished from everything else that Asiatic art has produced, because the
artist has limited himself to portraying what he had before his eyes simply and
delicately, without being compelled to have recourse to mythology for those
exaggerated forms or attributes which, after his time, were destined to become the
basis of Hindoo sculpture.

The capitals of the pillars are composed of groups of statues highly em-
bossed. These groups are varied at each gate. At the northern and eastern
gates they are composed of elephants in their harness, their riders bearing
floating banners; at the southern gate, recumbent lions; and at the western,
dwarfs, standing back to back, and supporting the architrave with their hands.
The extremities of the architraves are rounded in a close volute, bearing a statue
of a winged lion or an elephant. The projection formed by the first architrave
on each side of the gate is upheld by a design of incomparable elegance ; it is a
half-naked dancer, holding herself suspended by the arms to the branches of a
tree. This statue measures three feet. The body, fore part of the figure, and all
the details are admirably carved; the physiognomy has all the marks of the
Turanian type—the flattened nose, the eyes drawn in at the corners, and the
face wider than long; and the head-dress, carefully represented, rivals the most
eccentric masterpieces in this style. Small pilasters form a frame to statues of
cavaliers, which fill up the intervals between the architraves. Finally, on the
summit of the gate are ranged the emblems of Buddha and of Dharma, six feet
in height. The emblem of Buddha, a wheel carried by four elephants, occupies
the centre; and on either side stand two chaori (fly-flap) bearers, life-size.

©
a

EMBLEMS OF DHARMA. 437

Dharma, or concrete Nature, the second person in the Buddhist Trinity, is
represented by an emblem, of which I give a sketch; its basis being a monogram

...formed by uniting together the six Pali letters which distinguish the several
powers of Nature. .

This emblematic monogram has been supposed to bear a striking analogy to
the Greek and Egyptian emblems, such as the caduceus, &c.; but, without
desiring to approach this subject of discussion, I will point out another curious
coincidence, which may serve to elucidate some obscure details of the revolution
which overthrew Indian Buddhism. One of the most venerated sanctuaries in
India is the temple of Juggernaut, which stands on the verge of Orissa. In this
temple is exposed a statue of similar form, which is an object of adoration to the
Hindoos of all sects; and, strange to say, this idol, which represents Krishna, is
none other than an emblem of the Buddhist: Dharma, almost precisely identical
with that of Sanchi. Thus we have here a positive proof of the subterfuge

‘employed by the Brahmins to entice the people to them. They preserved the

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

EMBLEM OF DHARMA AT SANCHI. EMBLEM OF DHARMA AT JUGGERNAUT.

Buddhist idols, and made Buddha a simple incarnation of Vishnu. The tradition
of the present day asserts that the bones of Krishna are still preserved in this
idol of Juggernaut ; and moreover, during the feasts of which it is the object, the
distinction of castes is temporarily abolished ; and these two facts, so opposed to
the principles of Brahminism, prove that the idol and the festival of Juggernaut
are very clearly of Buddhist origin. ;

Of the four gates of Sanchi, that at the northern side is the only one which
afforded us all these details in an almost perfect state of preservation. The
eastern gate is less complete; and as for those on the southern and western sides,
which were pulled down through the malice of the villagers, they exhibit no
more than a picturesque heap of ruins.

Thus the Chaitya of Sanchi represents, down to the present day, the succes-
sive work of the six centuries immediately preceding Christ. It occupies the
centre of a little plateau, levelled and rectified by buttresses in masonry. One
of the great sides of this court rests upon the escarpment of the upper layer ; the
438 INDIA.

three others form a terrace, and overlook the foot of. the hill ; and several temples

and topes decorate its angles.

These topes are all of small dimensions, and belong

 

EAST GATE OF THE GREAT TOPE OF SANCHI.

. the Daghoba style. One of them, situated at the north-east angle, contained.
the relics of Saripoutra and Mangdalayana, the two most illustrious disciples of
*

THE TOPES OF SANCHI. 439

Sakya-Mouni; and its date was as early as the fifth century p.c. It had an
enclosure with portals similar to that of the Chaitya; but it is now greatly.
dilapidated ; in fact, it has preserved only one of its gates. The temples, which

RUINS OF THE WEST GATE OF THE GREAT TOPE.

|

i ‘

 

’
M 4 me

Wy i

are: merely small chapels accessible by elegant porticos and containing beautiful
statues’ of Buddha, are comparatively modern, belonging to the fourth or fifth

century.
On the south-eastern side of the Chaitya stands a picturesque ruin, half hidden
8 INDIA,

by a thick cloak of creepers ; a double row of square monoliths, twenty feet high,
and still supporting some fragments of an arch. These pillars are the remains of
a Buddhist nave, which terminated in a semicircular apsis which is still definable ;
and it is the only existing specimen of a Chaitya temple built of materials brought
to the spot. All those which have survived to the present day belong to the sub-
terranean style, such, for example, as the magnificent naves of Karli and Ajunta.

On the eastern side of the court rises a little plateau, surrounded by a terrace
of masonry work. This is the highest point of the hill, which the buildings of the
great monastery entirely covered. The facades ranged along the sides of a vast
courtyard are still visible, and the cloisters and doors of the cells may even be
distinguished amongst the heaps of rubbish.

The Buddhist monks had made an admirable choice for their place of retreat,
The courtyard of the monastery itself commanded a superb panorama, on the east
their view extended over the whole
valley of the Betwa from the vast
lake of Bhoje to the walls of the
great Bessnagara ; and. on the west
they saw at their feet all the glories
of the sacred hill, from the great
Chaitya to the tdpe of Kasyapa.
On the eastern side of this court-
yard still stands a fine temple,
enclosed between two wings of cells ;
the sculptures of which present a
striking analogy with those of the
temple of Madhou at Gharispore and
of the Vihara at Gwalior. It dates
from the sixth century, and was
probably erected by the Jains at the
period when they took possession of

BUDDHIST FUNERAL URN FROM THE TOPE OF the hill.
SONARI.

 

Turning back, I crossed the court
of the Chaitya, and descended a stair-
case hewn in the rock, which brought me to a third plateau. This one was far more
extensive than the two I had already visited, but it was covered with an almost
impenetrable thicket which rendered it difficult to explore. However, it possesses
only some small and much-ruined tépes and a few small viharas. On the banks
of a dry pond I observed a great number of diminutive tépes,—stone posts, from
two to three feet in height, generally bearing small figures of Buddha, which the
faithful came and placed as votive offerings round about the sacred spot. Some
of these are decorated with strange sculptures, and they are to be seen by hundreds
on the hill. Among the curiosities of this plateau I ought not to omit a monolith,
which lies on a little hillock by the side of the road leading from the great Chaitya
to the tépe of Kasyapa. It isa stone vase, rather over three feet in height ; and,
according to the account of the Chinese traveller Fa-Hian* (399 B.C.), in it was

preserved the branch of a fig-tree which Buddha had planted in the earth after
having broken it off with his teeth. .

* “ Fo-Kive-Ki.” Laidlaw’s Translation.
THIEVES. 441

Another staircase leads from the fourth plateau, which forms the first layer of
the hill; and here is found, in the midst of other unimportant ruins, the tope of
Kasyapa. It is easy to see at a glance that this tdpe is posterior to the great
Chaitya; its dome, thirty-six feet in Giameter, has a cylindrical plinth of three
feet; and its circular basement forms a projection of six feet of equal height.
The base is surrounded by a Buddhist colonnade with four entrances without
portals; and the pillars, instead of being smooth, are ornamented with bas-reliefs
and medallions. The excavations made by Cunningham in this tdpe led to the
discovery of antique urns, containing relics of Kasyapa and nine other great
dignitaries of the third Synod; and the inscriptions upon these urns refer the
building of the tépe to the year 220 before our era.

Round the foot of the hill are still to be found numerous ruins, ponds,
temples, lats, &c.

The group of Sanchi thus gives us two tdpes of first-rate dimensions, besides
twelve of smaller size, a Chaitya temple, three monasteries, and a considerable
number of chapels and statues.

‘In spite of the constantly increasing heat, and the danger to our health from
any further prolongation of our stay in the jungle, I would not leave Sanchi
without having minutely taken some of the dimensions of its monuments, and
executed a series of photographs of them. This labour employed me for eight
days: and I passed nearly all this time in my laboratory, installed near the great
Chaitya, from which I issued half suffocated to find myself struck by the terrible
rays of the sun at its zenith. Once I was interrupted in my work by a panther,
who came and carried off one of my dogs in broad daylight, and within twenty
paces of my laboratory: but I had the pleasure of killing him the next day, at
the very foot of the tépe of Kasyapa.

The heat, the deleterious miasmata of the jungles, and the wild beasts were
not destined, however, to be our most formidable enemies. Up to this time I had
passed through India in the most complete security. 1 ought scarcely to have
mentioned our little skirmish with the Bheels, and the ridiculous attack upon us at
Kishengurh. Thanks to the precautions which I had never omitted, and the
formidable escorts which accompanied me, I could consider myself safe against all
surprise: but Sanchi reserved a cruel disillusion for me on this point.

The barbarous state of the country, and the want of civility in the inhabitants,
had caused me to use double vigilance since we had been encamped near the hill.
When evening came, I myself placed the sentinels about our tents, caused fires to
be lighted, and rose several times during the night to ascertain the state of the
camp. The village of Sanchi-Kanakhera furnished me, according to custom, with
a guard of ten or twelve chowkeydars, which was renewed every evening. These
men, who were chosen from among the heads of families, were authorised to
repulse any nocturnal aggression that might be made upon the camp; and they
served as hostages given by the village, which is responsible in case of robbery for
the losses sustained by the travellers.

On the evening of the 6th, having made my usual rounds, I retired to rest,
after placing my chronometer and its chain in a heavy steel box of English make,
which I pushed under my bed, not going to sleep, however, without first verifying
the state of my rifle and revolvers, which were within reach. Towards midnight
a slight noise awakened me; but, as nothing seemed to be moving either in the
442 INDIA,

tent or outside, I dozed off again. An hour later I was startled out of my sleep
by a noise apparently proceeding from the head of my bed. I sprang to my arms,
but the tent, lighted by a small lamp, presented nothing unusual. I then went out
with my gun, took a turn round the camp, and returned to my little bed, laughing
at my own fears. As soon as it was daylight I had the chowkeydars summoned,
and they assured me they had remarked nothing extraordinary during the night.
Quite reassured, I made my preparations to go as usual to my laboratory, when I
soon discovered that a box containing stereotype plates was missing, and at the
same time ascertained the disappearance of the steel box. Forthwith all my
servants in great excitement set about searching in the neighbourhood of the
camp; and after an hour’s hunting they brought me back the box broken open by
blows from a pickaxe, and bereft of its contents. This was a heavy loss to me.
Besides a valuable watch and a thousand rupees in silver, it contained a very fine
collection of diamonds and jewels presented to me by various rajahs; and, more-
over, bills of exchange on the bankers at Bhopal for a very large amount. I found
myself completely plundered.

I sent word in haste to the Bhopal magistrate of the district, who arrived
the same day at Sanchi, with a strong escort of scribes and gendarmes. His first
act was to put the chowkeydars in irons, and to seize all the population of the two
hamlets, men, women, and children. These unfortunate people were all penned
into an enclosure of stakes and cords to await their examination. The next day
an express sent from Bhopal informed me that the Government of the Begum
declared itself responsible for the crime, and would indemnify me for my losses,

A judge from the capital came to preside at the court. The villagers
were examined one after another, but denied all participation in the robbery. At
last a poor child, eight years old, frightened at the terrible whip of the sepoys,
pointed out four of our chowkeydars as the guilty parties. These wretched men,
when brought before the tribunal, allowed themselves to be lacerated by the whip
rather than confess; nevertheless, the proofs were overwhelming. One of them
had been placed by me at the very spot where the thief had effected an entrance
into the tent by cutting the canvas with his knife, while another had been seen
by one of my servants during the night on the spot where the strong box had
been found; but nothing could wrest a confession from him.

Some days afterwards the bills of exchange, of the value of which tbe thieves
were ignorant, were found near the village; and the Begum’s Government in-
demnified me for my loss; but nothing could replace for me the memorials to
which I attached so great a value.
CHAPTER XLIIL.

FROM SANCHI TO BHOPAL.

Sagacity of an Elephant.—Piplia-BijoliThe Tépes of Bhojepore.—Andher.—The Tdpes of

Sonari.—Satdhara,—The Horses of Sahapore.—Legend of Shakasiam. —Bhopal.—The Moti
Bungalow. -

O finish our exploration of the valley of Bhilsa, we had still
to visit the ruins of four Buddhist settlements—Bhojepore,
Andher, Sonari, and. Satdhara; and the two first compelled us
to go out of our way about twenty-five miles towards the east.

On the oth of May we left Sanchi, and, recrossing the
Betwa, followed the right bank. The village of Piplia-Bijoli,
whereat we were to encamp, is hidden Solin the mountains which bound the
valley on the east, round the base of which a passable road conducting to it
winds; but our Gound guide thought proper to shorten the distance by making
us cross the neck of the mountain. Our brave Rewah elephant quickly climbed
the tolerably gentle slopes overlooking the valley, but on the summit the dried
jungle was so thick that it became almost impossible to advance. Venting
curses on our guide, we with great difficulty reached the opposite side of the
plateau, where we found ourselves facing a precipice the sides of which descend
almost perpendicularly for about fifty feet. A path, scarcely practicable for
pedestrians, over the different windings of the rock, presented itself to us. It
seemed utterly impossible that an elephant should venture on this mere goat-

walk; the mahout, however, assured us that his animal would accomplish it. I

was of opinion that the elephant should be allowed to attempt the task alone, but

from the tone.in which the mahout said to me, “Do not fear, Sahib!” it would
have been ridiculous for me to let the two Indians who followed us suppose that

I had less courage than this man, who was compelled to remain at his post.

After a thousand admonitions shouted at him by his driver, the elephant com-

menced his perilous descent. To see with what care he balanced his body! To

observe the dexterity with which he put his four feet together on blocks scarcely

large enough to hold them! The only sign of agitation he exhibited was a

slight tremor which agitated his whole body. The rock, of reddish sandstone,

projected huge masses suspended over the abyss, on which we were compelled to
step; and before venturing on these blocks, the elephant convinced himself
whether they were capable of bearing him by weighing on them with his fore
legs repeatedly, without, however, risking the equilibrium of the rest of his body,
which was thrown backwards. We were only a few feet above the bottom when.
the mahout, impatient at these delays, raised his pike to strike the elephant ;
and at the same instant the enormous stone over which he was urging him,

 
444 INDIA.

yielding to the repeated efforts of the intelligent beast, got detached, and rolled
down with a crash. A moment more and we should all have perished in a
frightful fall: the wonderful sagacity of our elephant had saved our lives,
Arrived at the bottom of the descent, I gazed at the rampart of stone which rose
behind us; assuredly the sun must have made us lose our wits for us to have
risked our lives so madly. These fifty or sixty feet had taken us forty minutes
in the descent; and we found our people at Piplia, already installed, and very
uneasy at the delay.

The ruins of the ancient Buddhist settlement of Bhojepore cover the summit
of the hill directly above the village of Piplia. This hill presents nearly the
same arrangement as that of Sanchi, forming a gigantic staircase composed of
four steps of even surface, and with vertical facings leading to a perfectly level
plateau ; the latter covered with the foundations of walls, some feet in height,
which scarcely permit one to distinguish the traces of the ancient constructions.
In the midst of these heaps of ruins stands a curious group of masonry; stone
walls sloping visibly backwards, like a broken piece of a pyramid, the angles
being flanked by square towers embedded in the mass. The facades have an
extent of ninety feet, and are twenty-four in height. A staircase penetrating
the wall leads to the summit; where, on one of the sides, rises a sculptured
frontal, near which lies a remarkable statue of Buddha. At a first glance it
might be supposed that this massive terrace had served as a basement to the
temple, the ruins of which are visible; but one has only to examine the
sculptures and the inscription which ornaments the foot of the statue to see that
they date only from the sixth century, while the terrace appears contemporaneous
with the tépes which surround it, and which are traced back to the third
century B.c. In addition to this, a little farther on, stands a similar construction
without any trace of a temple on its summit. In their present state, it is diffi-
cult to understand the meaning of these enormous masses of stone, which are to
be found among all the Buddhist settlements of the valley. May they not have
been simple platforms where the pontiffs of Buddha assembled during the
festivals, and whence, surrounded by their congregations, they addressed the
people, and exhibited the sacred relics to them ?

The plateau has six more tdpes; of which the most important rises in the
centre of a square court surrounded with walls; the dome, about fifty feet in
diameter, resting on a cylindrical plinth of four feet, and standing in the midst
of a circular terrace five feet high. Another, placed in an adjoining court,
measures thirty feet in height. Cunningham found in it several funeral urns,
unfortunately without inscriptions, and in one of these a charming model of a
tépe in rock-crystal. :

On the three lower steps may be counted thirty-four more tdpes, all in the
Daghoba style; but none of them afford traces of sculptures or colonnades.

From Piplia-Bijoli, I made an excursion to the Andher group, situated three
miles towards the east on the summit of steep peaks. This group consists only
of three topes, of which the largest is about forty-eight feet in diameter at the base
of the hemisphere, and must measure twenty-four feet in height; surrounded bya
Buddhist colonnade six feet high, decorated with medallions and fine bas-reliefs.
These topes have supplied an interesting collection of funeral urns, containing
relics of the most celebrated propagators of Buddhism in the time of Asoka,
a

THE TOPES OF SONARI. 445

which enables us to fix the date of their erection at the third century before the
Christian era. One of the Andher urns bears a short inscription traced in ink ;
which must be the most ancient inscription of the kind we are in possession of.

On the 11th we passed over again to the left bank of the Betwa, and
encamped near the village of Sonari. Sthis village is backed picturesquely by a
hill covered with forests; and the valley, which is very narrow, exhibits tine
plantations of mango and date trees. The name of Sonari is only a corruption of
Souvarnari, or the “golden wheel.” It is probable that, in the time of the
Buddhist dominion, the town which occupied the same site possessed a lat, sur-
mounted by the wheel, the emblem of Buddha, such as we find many specimens
of on the bas-reliefs of Sanchi.

The tdpes are situated at three-quarters of a mile’s distance from the village,
on the borders of a wild ravine abounding in springs. There are eight of them,
all in the Daghoba style, and of hemispheric form. The principal one is a
massive dome, forty-eight feet in diameter, with a cylindrical plinth of three feet,
and a circular terrace six feet high; the base surrounded by a Buddhist colonnade
of six feet, of which only a few pillars remain; and among the ruins are to be
seen several of those mysterious constructions familiarised to us at Bhojepore.
The relics and inscriptions found at Sonari trace the creation of this establish-
ment to the third century B.c.

Three miles to the north of the village is found the group of Satdhara, com-
posed of six Daghoba tépes, and one Chaitya tépe; the latter, however, now only
a shapeless mound half hidden under a layer of earth and brushwood. It was
almost equal to the great Chaitya of Sanchi, and must have measured a hundred
and twenty feet in diameter at the base, and more than forty-eight feet in height ;
and on its summit are still. to be found fragments of the altar and colonnade
which crowned it. The site of this establishment is one of the most picturesque
in the valley of Bhilsa, the tdpes being ranged on the borders of a precipice
beneath which flows the Besali.

On the 14th, after eighteen days devoted to exploring the different groups of
tuins in the valley of Bhilsa, we began our march towards Bhopal, from which
we were now only some eighteen miles distant. It was time for us to think of
reaching our quarters for the monsoon: the jungle fever raged in our camp; and
our men did not conceal their weariness of this journey of more than five months.

Our road inclined towards the south-west, and led us in a diagonal line across
the little valleys watered by the tributaries of the Betwa. The country had a
wild and desolate appearance, the low jungles and the forests depriving it of all
trace of culture. Here and there we came across some miserable villages, chiefly
peopled by Gounds.

Half-way on the road to Bhopal, near a miserable hamlet, a little enclosure
was pointed out to me, in which were contained about forty statues arranged in a
circle. These statues, in red sandstone, represented horsemen; and the horses were
covered with richly sculptured saddle-cloths. Unfortunately most of the busts of
the horsemen were shattered, and, what is a singular fact, no traces of them remain.
The few peasants on the spot could give me no information about these statues ;
but I could not help being struck by their resemblance to the equestrian statues
which the Scythians, and after them the Tartars, raised on their tombs: but
how can we explain the presence of a Tartar necropolis in the heart of India ?
446 INDIA.

One of the Bhopalese gendarmes of our escort gave me some explanations on
this point. It seems that the legendary genius of these wild valleys is a hero of
the name of Shakasiam, a true knight-errant, a great redresser of wrongs and pro-
tector of the weak. The peasants depict him as a man of high stature, cased in
iron and armed with a long lance; who at night gallops over mountains and
valleys, mounted on a steed as black as ebony: and woe to the evil-doer he may
meet on his way, for he infallibly pierces him with-his lance. The following,
however, is the legend most popularly received: “ A poor farmer, who had visited
the neighbouring town to sell his corn, was returning home with the fruit of his
labours. Night was drawing on, and he was already trembling at having to
venture alone into the forest, when a soldier, who had followed him, came up and
proposed to escort him. The peasant refused at first, pointing out to the soldier
that, being armed, he might, when once in the forest, murder and rob him.
‘May Shakasiam stand between us!’ exclaimed the soldier, raising his hand,
This invocation calmed the presentiments of the farmer, and they both journeyed
on in company. But scarcely were they in the forest, before the ruffian, springing
on the peasant, threw him down on the ground, and took his purse from him.
Then, jeering at the unfortunate man, who reproached him with his perfidy, he
said to‘him, ‘ Where then is thy Shakasiam ? why dost thou not call him to thy
aid?’ No sooner had he uttered these words, than the gallop of a horse echoed
through the canopy of the forest, and the soldier tried to escape; but the lance of
the horseman had already pierced him through. The farmer, prostrate on the
earth, raised his eyes, but Shakasiam had disappeared, and the ruffian lay gasping
out his last breath beside the purse.”

It is probable that this legend had its origin in the unknown persons who
erected the circle of horses. In any case, it has a tone of chivalrous poetry very
rarely found in the legends of the Indian people.

After four hours’ march, the hills got lower, and we issued upon a fine
plateau, distinguishing at the same time on the horizon the picturesque outlines
of Bhopal. The city spreads itself in the form of an amphitheatre, on the declivity
of a hill, the foot of which is bathed by a fine lake surrounded by a circle of
large trees. Looking down upon the red-roofed houses and groups of palace
terraces, two gigantic minarets shoot proudly upwards, like two arms raised
towards heaven ; and here and there bulb-shaped domes may be seen rising, sur-
mounted by the golden crescent which characterises the mosques; but no pagoda’s
spire, no pagan temple, pollutes the proud Mussulman city, one of the last
bulwarks of Islam in Hindostan.

On approaching the city, the country assumed a smiling appearance; fine
vegetable cultivations and vast gardens surrounding elegant palaces formed a cool
zone of verdure extending to the ramparts of the city; and at the first toll-house
we found the moonshee, Hussein Khan, the queen’s secretary, who was appointed
to receive us. Without allowing us to enter the city, he made us cross the
suburb of Jehangheerabad, and so conducted us to a charming habitation, whose
name, Moti Bungalow, reminded us of Baroda. It is an elegant pavilion,
surrounded by a fine garden, and situated on the banks of the lake on the oppo-
site side to the city; and its interior is arranged and furnished in the European
fashion. The moonshee did the honours of the place, and begged us in the name
of the Begum to consider this residence as our own during the period of our stay.
CHAPTER XLIV.
BHOPAL.

The Begum Secunder.—The Nawabs of Bhopal.—The City, Bazaars, Lakes, and Citadel.—Jehan-
gheerabad.—A Visit to the Doolan Sircar.—Madame Elizabeth de Bourbon.—The Bourbons
of Bhopal.—The Féte of Mohurum.—The Fair of Futtehgurh.—The Jogees.—Sehore.

“N the day following that of our arrival at Bhopal we were
admitted to a private audience of her Highness the Begum
Secunder. An equipage from the Court came to fetch us from
the Moti Bungalow, and took us to the palace, which is situated
at the extreme end of the town, at the foot of the citadel. The

* grand vizier and the dewan received us at the entrance; and we
ascended the great staircase and entered the great hall of the durbar, whens the
queen awaited us. Rising at our appraaeh, she advanced towards us, and,
courteously shaking hands with us, invited us to seat ourselves beside her on
the divan.

The Begum is a woman of about fifty years of age. Her thin face, lighted
up by a pair of intelligent eyes, expresses such a singular amount of energy that
one must be aware of it beforehand in. order to realise the fact that a woman is
before you. The costume itself aids the illusion; tight-fitting pantaloons, an
embroidered jacket, and a poniard at the belt, have, as a whole, anything but a
feminine appearance. Her gestures and manners still less remind one of her
sex; on the contrary, they reveal the sovereign and the autocrat accustomed to
find everything yield to his all-powerful will; but I must add at once that this
majestic -haughtiness lasted for only a few moments, and soon gave way to a
gracious and winning affability.

It may be said that the Begum Secunder is, in every respect, one of the most
remarkable types that India has furnished us with in this century. Daughter of
the last Nawab, on attaining her majority, she established her claim to the vacant
throne; but the English, interfering, as usual, in all the disputes about succession,
gave their preference to her husband, Jehanghir. At his death she imposed
herself as regent, in the name of Shah Jehan, her daughter, who was still a
minor; and, rejecting as absurd the Mussulman rules of the Purdah, which
condemned her to govern only from behind a curtain, she presented herself to
the people with uncovered face, dressed in the costume of the princes, and
proudly seated on her horse. From that moment she firmly grasped the reins
of the state, and set to work to concentrate in herself alone all the responsibility
and all the power which Asiatic customs yield only to the ministers. After

 
448 INDIA.

having skilfully, and without any rupture, put aside the troublesome intervention
of the English, and conciliated the goodwill of her rivals, she undertook the work
of reform she had so long meditated. By dint of economy, she succeeded in
paying off in ten years a debt of eighty lacs,* and raised the revenues of the
Crown from twelve to thirty lacs. The country, through her care, soon became
covered with roads of communication, and the dykes, to which it owes its fertility,
were restored or repaired; she then reorganised her small army, instituted a new
-judicial system, and created a police. The indifference of her predecessors had
allowed the best land to pass by degrees into the hands of the feudal nobility,
Using as a pretext the exactions perpetrated by the barons, she constituted herself
the defender of the peasant, and resumed her right of high justice; and in a few
years her legal confiscations reunited the greater part of the alienated property to
the Crown. During the space of ten years she worked twelve hours a day, and
displayed an administrative ability which the English themselves termed wonder-
ful. She superintended in person the execution of her orders, travelling over
all the provinces of her kingdom on horseback, living in her tent, and going into
the midst of her population to seek for the information she required.

The revolt of 1857 interrupted her in the midst of her labours. Her position
was full of peril—finding herself, as she did, placed in the heart of the revolted
countries, with the most brilliant offers made to her in order to win her over to
the cause of the insurrection. Without hesitation, however, she placed herself by
the side of England, repressed the seeds of revolt which had begun to manifest
themselves in her very palace, and, assembling her little army, marched in person
to the aid of the English. This skilful policy gainec her a considerable increase
of territory, besides numerous marks of esteem which Queen Victoria and. the
British Government were pleased to lavish upon her; and in 1859 her daughter,
having attained her majority, abdicated in her favour, when she became by right,
as well as in fact, the true sovereign of Bhopal.

Her work of reorganisation was completed, but she wished to go still further.
Attacking the ancient prejudices, she forbade the commerce in slaves and the
institution of eunuchs, and established schools and orphanages in every centre of
the population ; and, having thus brought her small territory out of its obscurity,
she has succeeded in placing it in the first rank among the kingdoms of Rajasthan,
by giving it an unusual political importance, and, at the same time, an internal
prosperity which even the countries governed by the English might envy.

The States of Bhopal extend over a surface of 6764 square miles, and
contain a population of about 670,000 inhabitants. They partly cover the
tablelands bordering the northern banks of the Nerbudda, and partly stretch
over the beautiful and fertile plains of Eastern Malwa.

The foundation of the Mussulman kingdom of Bhopal dates only from the
seventeenth century. In the reign of the Emperor Aurungzeb, Dost Mohammed,
of Affghan origin, was sent as governor to Malwa and the provinces of the
Nerbudda. On the death of the emperor, following the example of the principal
Mogul satraps, he declared himself independent, and succeeded, by means of a
series of odious crimes, in taking possession of part of the country which had
remained in the hands of the Hindoos; and he transported his capital from
Islamabad to Bhopal, which, since the time of Bhoje, had sunk to the rank of a

* The lac of rupees is equal to £10,000.
THE BEGUM. 449

small town. He caused great works to be executed, strengthened or replaced
the dykes which partly envelop the hill with a belt of lakes, and surrounding it
with an enclosure, that extended to and was connected with a citadel placed on
the height, converted it into one of the strongest military posts in India. It
was then that he assumed the title of Nawab, which his successors have since
borne.

In 1813 the little State was nearly swept away by the Mahratta whirlwind,
and was only saved by the energy of the vizier Mohammed, cousin of the reigning
prince. Bhopal, invested by a powerful army of 50,000 men, resisted during
nine months with a garrison which did not exceed 10,000 men. The city, closely
blockaded, meanwhile was a prey to all the horrors of famine. The inhabitants
soon had no other nourishment than dogs and horses, to which they added the
bitter-tasted seeds of the nims, which grew in abundance along the ramparts.
At last the vizier had only two hundred available men remaining, and a scanty
quantity of ammunition, when the Mahrattas, impatient of the resistance offered
them by the place, which they. had reckoned on. taking without any difficulty,
raised the siege. The vizier judged with some reason that, having saved the
State, he deserved to retain the management of it. He therefore deposed his
cousin and assumed the title of Nawab, which thus passed to the younger
branch.

_ In 1816 he left the throne to his son, Nuzzer Mohammed, who distinguished

himself by his brilliant qualities, but was accidentally killed by his nephew,
after a reign of two years. The only daughter of Nuzzer, the present Begum,
was at the time only a few months old; the regency was therefore divided between
the prince’s widow and a Christian minister of French origin, to whom I shall
refer presently.

Our first interview with the Begum lasted several hours, during which she
related with much enthusiasm her own history and that of her ancestors, as I have
just briefly sketched them. Then, without pausing, she made me undergo a long
examination on the Indian States which I had visited, on the customs of their
Courts and their policy ; plying me with fresh questions almost before I had had
time to reply to the last. She next apologised for not being able to introduce us
to her daughter, Shah Jehan, whom her husband kept shut up in the harem, and
compelled to a strict observance of the rules of the Purdah; which gave the
Begum an opportunity for declaring these customs to be absurd and ridiculous.
To make amends for this, however, she sent for her granddaughter, Sultana
Jehan, a lovely child of eight, who ran forward to embrace and salute us in the
European fashion. :

The Begum did not allow us to depart until I had explained to her what
were my plans for the rainy season ; whether I intended wintering at Bhopal as
I had done at Jeypore, and in such case how long I thought of staying ; and
when I declared my intention, should she permit it, of profiting by the bad season
to pass some months at her Court, she desired to settle at once what we should
do during that period. It was decided that we should reside at the Moti
Bungalow, and that during all the time of our stay we should consider ourselves
as the Begum’s guests. At length the servants brought the ewers; the queen
herself sprinkled us with rose-water, and we retired enchanted as well as

astonished by our first interview.
25
450 INDIA.

The next day Hussein Khan, the queen’s secretary, came to instal us
definitely at the Moti Bungalow. The apartments were newly furnished, and
a numerous establishment of servants and a special guard were placed at our
disposal, besides several horses, two carriages, and an elephant.

The same day I sent back to Rewah the escort and the elephant which the
Maharajah had given us.

 

HER HIGHNESS THE BEGUM SECUNDER.

The charming residence allotted to us by the Begum, is situated at the end of
the suburb of Jehangheerabad, from which it is separated by beautiful gardens
planted with large trees, which encircle it with verdure. To the south and east
the view extends over a barren and desolate valley, strewed with stones and
brushwood, and a long chain of bare mountain ridges with rounded outlines. The
THE {UMMAH MUS{ID. 45t
landscape towards the west forms a delicious contrast to this gloomy spectacle ;
and the blue and limpid waters of a fine lake spread like a splendid mirror, in
which the mountains and the long line of forts and gardens which ornament its
banks are reflected. This lake entirely covers the eastern front of the city, while
only a road passing along the high dyke which confines its waters serves to con-
nect it with the suburb of Jehangheerabad. The city itself is built in the form
of an amphitheatre, on the eastern slope of a rocky hill. Thick walls, crowned
with battlements and flanked by towers, but without either moats or banks, form
an enclosure about two miles in circuit; and access is had to the interior by
numerous gates, all having a peculiar stamp, with their elegant pointed arch, their
Attic guard-house, and their towers.

The entrance to the city is formally interdicted to strangers, even to Europeans,
who can only enter with a permission from the queen; but it is scarcely necessary
to add that these orders did not affect us, who were the guests of her Highness.
On the contrary, whenever we approached the gate, mounted on our elephant, the
guard turned out to render us military honours.

I have already said that the present city is of modern construction ; therefore
it can hardly be expected that any very important monuments should be found in
it. It is very irregularly built; yet its narrow and crooked streets, lined with
high houses with their verandahs of carved wood and numerous small towers
pierced with narrow windows, all blackened by age and smoke, present a most
picturesque coup-d'eil. :

Each district has its mosque, which sometimes is merely a little paved yard,
with a plain wall containing the sacred niche, and sometimes, on the contrary,
is an imposing edifice of grand proportions surmounted by elegant minarets.

The Cathedral Mosque, or Jummah Musjid, stands in the centre of the city.
It is placed on the summit of a massive terrace of red sandstone, surmounted by
arcades and. colonnades, to which access is had by superb stone staircases. The
mosque itself is a fine edifice, built in a simple style, and crowned by an enormous
dome of bulbous form, flanked by two smaller domes; and at each corner of the
facade, tower two octagon minarets, surmounted by a light cupola.

The approaches to the Jummah Musjid constitute the most interesting part
of the capital. It is there that the jewellers’ shops, the mercers’, the pastrycooks’,
the armourers’, and the cafés are assembled ; and a noisy and picturesque crowd
fills these narrow streets from morning till night. The half-naked Gound, with
his hatchet on his ‘shoulder, elbows the austere Moulvi with his long white beard
and carefully arranged garments. There may be seen the Brahmins, shining
with grease; the loquacious Banyans; the fierce and ragged Purdesees ; fine
young men from Persia or Affghanistan; and Beloochees, with their red-brick
faces, and tawny hair waving like a lion’s mane. In the midst of all this crowd,
the Bhopalese may be recognised by his graceful deportment and delicately cut
features framed by a silky beard. He wears the usual Mussulman costume—
the embroidered toque, or the turban placed on one side, the close-fitting tunic
and pantaloons, the yellow slippers embroidered with spangles; carries his sabre
in an effeminate manner, wrapped in a muslin shawl, and exhales as he passes
the perfume of rose-water and sandal-wood, with which his flowing hair is always
impregnated. : ;

Our elephant can scarcely open a way through this crowd, in spite of the
452 INDIA.

warning noise of the heavy brass bell which shakes at his side at every step he
takes. At length escaping from all this noise, we found ourselves in a dark
street shut in between the lofty facades of the nobles’ palaces. Here all is
silent; no lounger is seen; and on the stone benches near the doorways lie
sleeping armed men in strange accoutrements, in which the steel gauntlet and
the morion oddly clash with the carbine, the rifle, and large horse-pistols. At
the end of this street a few turnings brought us in front of the Moti Musjid
(Mosque of Pearls), which the Begum is having built. This edifice gives some
notion of what Indians are still capable of doing—even now, after so many
centuries of decay.

The Moti Musjid would be considered a grand monument for any period and
in any country. The basement is a magnificent terrace, measuring about one
hundred and eighty feet in length, ninety in width, and thirty-six in height;
and on one of its sides a flight of forty steps, extending the whole length of the
facade, leads to a monumental doorway opening upon the court which forms the
summit of the terrace, and which is surrounded by colonnaded cloisters intersected
by graceful pavilions which join the facade of the mosque. This latter, which is
still incomplete, will be surmounted by three domes, one of which will be of
gigantic dimensions and flanked by minarets of great height. The fagade as well
as the domes are to be encased in white marble.

Behind the Moti Musjid extend the vast buildings of the queen’s palace. The
principal structure overlooks a large square, and is perforated by arcades of a
rather graceful style.

Continuing to ascend the hill on which the town is built, we reached the
citadel of Futtehgurh, which crowns its summit, and the bastions of which
command a very fine view of the city and the lake which extends towards the
south. This lake, called Bhopal Tal, covers a much more considerable surface
than the lake of Jehangheerabad. It measures about four and a half miles in
length, and a mile and a half in breadth, and washes the base of the lofty moun-
tains between which it is confined. Its creation is attributed to a certain Bhé
Pal, a minister of the celebrated King Bhoje, who reigned in the sixth century.
It is fed by the waters of the Besali, which are confined by a cyclopean dam;
and its overflow supplies the lake of Jehangheerabad.

Our visit to the city ended, we returned to the Moti Bungalow by the wretched
suburbs crowded together beyond the ramparts to the north.

During the first days of our stay at the Moti Bungalow we received visits
from the principal personages of the Court, who came to make their salaams to
us, bringing us presents of fruits and sweetmeats; and one day when I was
surrounded in this way by a numerous company, smoking the hookah and sipping
sherbet, great was my astonishment on hearing my bearer, who officiated as
choubdar, announce with a loud voice, “PAdri Sahib!” * The next moment I
saw a young man enter the room, wearing the costume of a Catholic priest. All
the company rose (for Mussulmans always show the greatest respect for the habit
of our clergy), and I advanced towards the priest, who, to my great surprise,
immediately addressed me in French. What a surprise !—a Frenchman at
Bhopal! When every one was seated the priest said to me, “On hearing of
your arrival I should have hastened to come and see you, for it is long since I

* “My lord the priest.”
MADAME DE BOURBON. 453

had the pleasure of meeting with fellow-countrymen, but I was compelled to
delay my visit for a reason you will easily understand. I reside here in the
capacity of chaplain to Madame Elizabeth de Bourbon, a Christian princess who
holds the first place in the kingdom aftgr the Begum. This lady greatly hoped
that you would have gone to see her soon after your arrival, and she waited for
you impatiently. Being only her servant, I was myself obliged to defer my visit
until she should herself authorise me to seek you. To-day I am sent by her to
tell you that she will expect you at her palace to-morrow, at whatever hour you
may ehoose to appoint.”

I listened to the priest
while he spoke, but with-
out being able to believe
my ears. My wanderings
had doubtless been fruit-
ful of many unexpected
events, but to arrive at
Bhopal and find a French
priest chaplain to a Chris-
tian princess, and to hear
that this princess was the
most important personage
in the kingdom, and bore
the name of Bourbon,—
this seemed to me to verge
on the fabulous, and I |
looked at the worthy ec-
clesiastic, asking myself
whether there were not
some mystification under
it all. However, at last
I agreed to accept the in-
vitation of the mysterious
princess, and he left us to
carry the news to her.

When he was gone, I
questioned the Bhopalese
nobles who were present,
and they confirmed the
words of the priest. The
princess numbered now some sixty-six summers; she was called Bourbon Sirdar,
or Princess Bourbon. It was also true that she was very rich, possessed
important fiefs, and held high rank among the great vassals of the Crown.
My curiosity was greatly excited, and the next morning I mounted the
elephant, accompanied by Schaumburg, and proceeded to the residence of the
princess. ,

We stopped at a palace of modest appearance, but of vast dimensions, and
were received by a number of armed domestics, who, after having assisted us to
dismount from our elephant, conducted us to a large saloon on the first floor,

 

MADAME DE BOURBON.
454 INDIA.

where the Bourbon Sirdar awaited us. The princess came forward to meet us,
and warmly pressed our hands. I was at once struck by her type, which is
eminently European, and by the clear yellow tint of her skin. Could it be that
I saw a countrywoman before me? And by what strange concatenation of
circumstances did she occupy so high a position in Bhopal? After undergoing
the usual interrogatories, which the princess did not spare me, I questioned her
in my turn, and elicited from her the most singular details as to the origin of her
fainily.

The following, according to the account given me by the princess and the
testimony of the celebrated General Malcolm, is the history of this French family
transplanted to India.

During the reign of the great Akbar, towards the year 1557 or 1550, a
European named Jean de Bourbon arrived at the court of Delhi. He described
himself as a Frenchman, and claimed descent from one of the noblest families of
that country. He related that, having been made prisoner by some Turkish
pirates while on a voyage accompanied by his preceptor, he had been carried
captive into Egypt. This event occurred in 1541, at which period he was fifteen
years old. Once in Egypt, the young man by his pleasing qualities won the
favour of the sovereign, who made him join his army; and, in a war with the
Abyssinians, he was again taken prisoner. His character of Christian, his
intelligence and education, soon earned a certain position for him in the country;
and he was enabled, by means of some pretext, to reach the shores of India in one
of those Abyssinian vessels which at that time kept up a constant correspondence
with the west coast. Having landed at Broach, and heard high praises of the
splendour of the court of the Great Moeul, he deserted the Abyssinian fleet, and
went to Agra.

The Emperor Akbar, to whom the young European related his history, was
taken with his graceful manners and intelligent appearance, and offered him an
appointment in his army; and soon afterwards, he created him master of the
artillery. Loaded with honours and riches, the Prince Jean de Bourbon died at
Agra, leaving two sons, the fruit of his marriage with a Georgian slave in the
palace; and the eldest of these two sons, Alexander de Bourbon, or Secunder
Bourbon, became the favourite of the Emperor Jehanghir, who granted him the
hereditary office of Governor of the Palace of the Begums, besides the important
fief of Sirgurh.

The Bourbons retained their position at the court of Delhi until the invasion
of India by Nadir Shah. The last governor of the palace was Faradi Bourbon ;
whose son Salvador abandoned the service of the Padishahs, and retired to his fief
of Sirgurh in Malwa, where he assumed the title of nawab, or sovereign prince ;
and in 1794 his successor, Bhoba Bourbon, known under the name of Nawab
Mussuah Ragou Khan, was dethroned by a French adventurer in. the service of
Scindia. This Frenchman, who, by a strange coincidence of destiny, overthrew
the throne of the Indian Bourbons almost at the moment of the fall of their French
namesakes, was that Captain Fantéme whose descendants I had met with at the
Court of Bhurtpore.

Shortly after the loss of his principality, Bhoba Bourbon was assassinated at
the Court of the Rajah of Narwar, and his son, Enayet Mussuah, or Chohar
Bourbon, took refuge with his clan at the Court of the reigning prince of Bhopal..
€

THE BOURBONS OF BHOPAL. 455

Vizir Mohammed gave him the command of the citadel, and granted him a
considerable hereditary fief as a reward for his services.

In 1816 Balthazar de Bourbon, surnamed Shahzahad Mussuah, or the Christian
prince, became first minister of the Stages of Bhopal; and two years later the
accidental death of the sovereign gave him the regency of the kingdom. It was
to him that this little country owes the impetus which caused it to attain in a
few years a remarkable degree of prosperity. Seeing it threatened on all sides by
the Mahrattas, Balthazar was one of the first to offer his alliance to the English.
General Malcolm was then campaigning in Malwa, and was not a little astonished
to receive propositions of alliance from an Indian prince styling himself a
representative of the Bourbons of France. In his celebrated work on Central
India, Malcolm dwells at length on this singular meeting, and paints to us in the
most flattering colours the superior intelligence and splendid countenance of the
Christian prince. Balthazar died in 1830, leaving all his titles and rights to
his widow Elizabeth de Bourbon, surnamed the Doolan Sircar, and to his nephew
Bonaventure Bourbon, or Bourbon Mussuah.

The descendants of Jean de Bourbon form at the present day a clan of about
four hundred families, three hundred of which are settled in the kingdom of
Bhopal, and acknowledge Madame Elizabeth as their suzerain. _ They bear the
name of Frantcis, a corruption of the word Frenchman, and have remained firmly
loyal to their Christian faith.

I cannot describe my astonishment and surprise on hearing this account, -
which the princess gave me. I then recollected the incident of the Durbar
at Agra, where I had fancied I heard the name of Bourbon pronounced
amongst the names of the princes and nobles assembled on the occasion; and
I learned that the Dooldn Sircar had accompanied the Begum, her suzerain, to this
ceremony.

The worthy missionary who was present at our interview assured me that an
escutcheon, bearing the fleur-de-lis roughly painted on it, which had belonged to
Jean de Bourbon, was preserved in the family treasury. He added besides that
Jean had represented himself at the Court of Akbar as Lord of Barri and Mergurh,
and that these names might very possibly be a simple corruption of the French
words Berri and Mercceur.

To those whom it may interest I leave the task of deciding whether this Jean
de Bourbon belonged to the French family of the Bourbons, whether he was some
illegitimate son of the famous Constable who lived about that time, or whether he
was only an impostor. But even in the latter case he could not have the epithet
“common” applied to him, for it must have been a man of high descent and rare
talents who could thus raise himself to so distinguished a position at the Court of
Akbar, which was at that time perhaps the most brilliant and the most civilised
in the world; and it is still more surprising to see the descendants of this man
maintain themselves to the present day in a rank scarcely inferior to royalty,
while at the same time they remained faithfully attached to the name, customs,
and religion of their ancestors.

To return to our interview. The Doolan Sircar, after all these explanations, :
expressed her delight at seeing in us her fellow-countrymen, and made us promise
to keep up a frequent intercourse with her palace during our stay.

We arrived at Bhopal during the Mohurum. This festival, which F have
456 INDIA.

already described to my readers in the early chapters of this narrative, is cele-
brated in honour of the first day of the Mussulman year. We knew that the
Shiite Mahometans made it the occasion for noisy ceremonies, in which the
martyrs, Ali and Hussein, assassinated by Omar, are glorified. I did not, there-

 

x ROH
JOGEES.

fore, expect to find a repetition of these ceremonies at Bhopal, where the Mussul-
man population belongs to the Sumite sect, and holds the Shiite heretics and their
superstitions in abhorrence; and yet I never saw the Mohurum celebrated in
any place with greater pomp.
THE MUHURUM AT BHOPAL. 457

For several days the heights commanding the town presented a most curious
sight; there the festival of the Mohurum was held. Hundreds of stalls were
sreoted on the slopes of the citadel; and in the evening the crowds were chiefly
collected on the spot where numbers of acrobats were performing eccentric exer-
cises. In the midst of this crowd I could indulge myself freely in studying the
people of Bhopal. The mass of the population was eminently Hindoo, the men
wearing the dress of thick white linen which distinguishes the country people;
and the women, the bodice opening on the abdomen, and the large plaited petti-
coat falling to the knees. Nearly all the Mussulmans seemed to belong to a
superior class; they could be recognised by their handsome tunics, embroidered
in gold and silver, their elegant toques of spangled muslin, their valuable arms
ostentatiously displayed, and especially by the grave and haughty air with which
they made their way through the crowd. No Mussulman woman was to be seen ;
but, on the other hand, troops of bayadeéres, draped in dazzling silks and powered
with jewels, filled the avenues of the fair, trailing behind them their long panta-
loons, like court mantles, and followed by a regular train of musicians and bullies
armed with long rapiers; while a vast number of young men, dressed in female
costume, rivalled the dancing-girls in their finery, and overwhelmed the passers-
by with jests and puns. This strange masquerade reminded me of what I had
already witnessed elsewhere, and it is probable that. the Indian Mussulmans have
borrowed this custom from the Hindoos. In contrast with this gay and brilliant
crowd, I remarked groups of religious mendicants of a frightfully sinister descrip-
tion. They were the jogees, who, completely naked, and with flowing hair, walked
about uttering cries, and executing a species of danse Macabre. In. the midst of
their contortions, they brandished fone sharp-pointed poignards, of a peculiar form,
and ornamented with small steel chains; and occasionally one of these fanatics
plunged his poignard into his body, chiefly near the breast, ribs, arms, and thighs,
and only ceased his stabs when, to calm his seeming fury, the loungers who
surrounded him had thrown him a sufficient quantity of coppers. These wretched
men, streaming with blood, were hideous to look upon, and I could not understand
how they could inflict such wounds upon themselves without danger, to their
lives ; but Hussein Khan, who accompanied me, pointed out that the weapon he
struck himself with was fashioned in such a manner as only to cause wounds of
little consequence, the blade being excessively pointed, and perfectly conical.
“ Besides,” he said, “those people take good care to strike themselves only in
parts where there is little danger, and the wounds are nearly always skin-deep
only.”

A little farther on, keeping at a respectful distance, I remarked a group of
half-naked Gounds, who gazed upon all this tumult, and glittering of silks and
jewels, with large scared eyes. At the end of the space occupied by the fair, a
caravan of Beloochees had established themselves with their small low tents of
brown woollen material, and their large, thickly coated camels. They brought
with them to the fair dried fruits, apricots, figs, and apples, strung in long
chaplets, of so tempting an appearance that the Bhopalese eagerly purchased
them. The fifth day of the festival marks the close of the Mohurum, and the
crowd transfers itself to the banks of the great lake, which, as if by enchantment,
becomes covered with stalls and tents. Each one present religiously brings a
tabout, a little temple made of paper and tinsel, representing the tomb of the
458 INDIA.
martyrs, and proceeds to throw it with loud cries on the waters of the lake,
which soon appears strewn all over with these little domes floating on the

surface.
Towards evening the grand procession of the tabouts, also called here tazeeas,

 

MUSSULMAN WOMAN OF BHOPAL.

takes place. Some of these are real edifices, measuring twenty feet in height,
and are carried across the city by elephants. The cortége is formed on the
square before the palace, and descends the great street of the bazaar surrounded
by crowds of people in a state of the greatest excitement, carrying banners, pikes,
SEHORE. 459

and censers. Cries of “Din! Din!” (religion), “Hussein! Hussein! Ala! Ha
Doula!” echo without ceasing; and now and again the report of guns or of
petards bursting adds to the deafening uproar. In front of the cortége walks a
richly dressed man, who personates ghe husband of Fatima, the prophet’s
daughter. He advances staggering, supported by. other fanatics, foaming at the
mouth, and seemingly a prey to an attack of epilepsy. Night sets in, and
thousands of torches with their red light add to the fantastic character of the
scene. Above this shouting crowd, like one of those infernal sarabands imagined
by Les Callot, one seems to see the high towers of the tazeeas suspended in the
air like mystic temples, glittering with gold and tinsel, and borne with grave
and solemn step by the elephants, who look like living pedestals, half lost in the
shade. The procession halts on the borders of the lake, and everything subsides
into darkness and silence.

Some days after the Mohurum, we left Bhopal to go to Sehore, where the
English ambassador resides, having received an invitation to pass some days with
him; and, the Begum having kindly placed a travelling-carriage and relays of
horses at our service, we were enabled to perform the distance of twenty-two
miles, which separates Sehore from the capital, in a few hours.

I have already mentioned that Bhopal is situated on the borders of Gound-
wana and Malwa. We had scarcely left the city, going in a western direction,
before the landscape suddenly changed its aspect. The wild and barren valleys
of the lands of the Gounds gave place to magnificent plains extending to the
very limits of the horizon without presenting the slightest irregularity of surface.
The vegetation also changed its character; the fields were covered with millet,
rice, and poppies, while here and there rose clusters of dwarf date-trees, sole
representatives of that magnificent family of palm-trees with which the interior
of India is so poorly endowed, in spite of the contrary opinion which still prevails
in Europe.

Sehore is a small insignificant town which, after having been during several
years one of the principal English stations in Malwa, had to be abandoned on
account of its extraordinarily unhealthy climate. Situated in a hollow, and over-
run by several currents of water, which give excessive vigour to its vegetation,
it is devastated by fevers of a pernicious nature.

The residence of the English Agent is situated at a short distance from the
town, in the centre of a magnificent park laid out in the English fashion; and,
like all habitations of the same kind, it is a real palace, supplied with all the
comforts which can render life endurable in so unhealthy a country. In the
park itself stands an elegant Gothic chapel in red sandstone, built from the plans
of the present occupant.

I will not dwell on the gracious reception we met with from Major Wil-
loughby Osborne and his charming wife. The few days we passed with our
amiable host and hostess survive as one of the pleasantest memories of my
journey in Central India.
CHAPTER XLV.
THE COURT OF BHOPAL.

The Monsoon.—Life at Bhopal.—Evenings with the Begum.—Coffee and the Hookah.—The
Cathacks.—The Ege-Dance.—The Man with the Iron Skull.—Interview with Shah Jehan.—
Death of Oumra Doula.—A Visit of Condolence.—The Tofan.

E were back at Bhopal in the first days of June. Clouds were
already beginning to appear on the horizon, and soon the
yearly deluge brought us torrents of rain. The sides of the
surrounding mountains were furrowed by the impetuous tor-
rents which, spreading themselves over the plains, carried
away the roads in many patts, and communication with the
city itself became almost impossible during the first fortnight. We were
definitely prisoners in Bhopal, and reduced to a state of inaction during three
months at least.

It must be confessed that the Begum had done everything to render our prison
not only supportable, but even agreeable. The Moti Bungalow had undergone
numerous modifications during our absence at Sehore, which had converted it into
a charming residence in the European style; the spacious garden which separates
it from the lake had been cleared of the exuberant vegetation which encumbered
its paths, so as to permit us to take short walks in it during the intervals of re-
spite granted us by the rain; and a numerous establishment of servants, a detach-
ment of soldiers, horses, and elephants, had been placed at our service, and formed
round our habitation a singularly animated little colony.

The first rains came in torrential abundance, exceeding everything of the kind
that we had yet experienced at Bombay and Baroda; but, on the other hand,
they did not bring with them, as at Jeypore, the terrible hot winds. During
several days the thunder never ceased rumbling, constantly furrowing the clouds
with splendid violet flashes of lightning, and the peals burst forth one after
another with a stupendous crash, like a continuous discharge of artillery.
Thunderbolts fell several times, but without causing serious damage, and the
electricity often played on the surface of the ground, displaying singular pheno-
mena which would have deeply interested a chemist.

At the end of a fortnight, however, during which time it seemed as though
we were witnessing one of those cataclysms which must have accompanied the
formation of our earth, the grey canopy above us broke in several places, the
sky gradually became blue, and we were able to venture as far as the Begum’s
palace.

 
LIFE AT BHOPAL. 461

One would have thought that, while we had been shut up in our habitation,
the country had been touched by some magic wand. The vast bare stony plain
was covered with a magnificent carpet of verdure, like the grass of an English
park; the trees, but lately grey and withered, now spread out thick pavilions of
beautiful foliage; and the mountains, “washed by the streams, shone out in the
bright tints of their biue granite and rose-coloured sandstone. But the picture
was not everywhere equally smiling. The suburb of Jehangheerabad presented a
sad aspect of ruins; a great number of houses had fallen, the bridges had dis-
appeared, and the roads were no longer any better than dried beds of torrents.

Our reception at the palace was particularly cordial: the Begum was especi-
ally enchanted at our having partly adopted the elegant costume of the nobility
of her Court; and she immediately gave orders to the raj-durzi, or royal tailor, to
prepare us several costumes.

From that day we became constant guests at the palace. I passed the day
talking with the queen on the gravest questions, passing in review the institu-
tions of the different countries of Europe, their productions, their wealth, and the
manners and customs of their inhabitants; and I was astonished to see the
rapidity with which she seized the slightest details, and compared them with the
institutions of her country. Everything relating to the public health, industry,
and commerce interested her far more than political questions; which to her were
limited to the fact of two powers, England and France, exercising their supremacy
over all the countries of the globe, with the exception, however, of Turkey, whose
sovereign was the recognised lord of all Islam.

When the weather permitted, the queen rode on horseback, escorted by us;
and, attended by the first minister and a small staff, she visited the. principal
establishments of the capital. The hospitals, schools, and orphanages were the
objects of our first visits; and she made me examine all the organisation of these
establishments, asking my opinion, which I always gave cautiously, not consider-
ing myself sufficiently competent to propose reforms which the queen, with her
usual vivacity, would have had executed directly. Often, too, when returning
from one of these rounds of inspection, we dismounted from our horses, at the
foot of the steps of the great mosque, and took our places in one of the kiosks
overlooking the bazaar; whence we commanded a view of all the picturesque
tumult of the crowd.

The queen, in fact, never wearied of giving me curious details. She taught
me how to recognise the different nationalities, and communicated to me the
precise value and commercial importance of this or that product, and the revenues
it yielded to the Crown; and other such information.

The moollahs of the mosque generally came and took their places near us in
the kiosk, and entered into religious discussions with me. It was curious to see
with what ardour these worthy priests argued on the most trivial questions; yet
some of them displayed real knowledge, and spoke with tolerable moderation of
Christianity, for which indeed it was notorious that the queen entertained a strong
sympathy. She often left me alone with the moollahs, and, when we took our
departure from the mosque in their company, we continued the learned conversa-
tion in the house of our friend Hussein Khan, who always welcomed our arrival
with the same demonstrations of satisfaction. As soon as one of his servants
announced our approach to him, he ran to his door to bid us welcome, sprinkling
sie INDIA.

our beards and clothes with rose-water; after which hé made us sit in the
verandah overlooking the garden; coffee and the hookahs were brought to us’;
and the moollahs resumed the discussion of the disputed points of the Mussulman
religion. :

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MOOLLAHS OF BHOPAL.

 

 

The whole day, it will thus be seen, was devoted to serious matters; but the
evening was reserved for amusements of every description. We arrived at the
palace after our dinner-hour, and found the few intimate friends who composed
THE ROYAL HOOKAH. * 463
the usual circle of the Begum assembled in the great saloon on the first floor ; all
grave men, with white beards and high titles; the first minister a remarkably fine
man, of very shrewd intelligence, who possessed great influence over the Begum ;
an uncle of the queen; some feudal lords, and, finally, our worthy friend Hussein
Khan. While awaiting the arrival $f the queen, who passed some hours every
day'in her daughter’s harem, we played games of chess and pucheesee.

Towards eight o’clock the sharp sound of the choubdar’s silver stick echoing
on the pavement of the great gallery notified the approach of the queen, who soon
entered the hall in the midst of a bevy of young girls, her attendants, whom she
had freed like herself from the rules of the Eastern zenana. The charming little
girl, Sultana, glittering with gold and jewels, ran forward to embrace us; the
queen then seated herself on the throne of green velvet which occupied the end
of the hall; and all took their places on the divan according to the established
rules of precedence, my quality as guest entitling me to a place on the queen’s
right hand.

After they had handed round coffee, the servants brought in the royal hookah,
an enormous instrument, three feet in height, ornamented with precious stones;
the bowl of which, of vast size, was filled with gooracco, a mixture of tobacco and
aromas, upon which were heaped small red-hot coals. On the first evening the
arrival of the hookah was the occasion of an incident which made no small noise
at the little Court, and even in the city. The hookahburdar came and knelt
before the queen, and presented to her the rich amber mouthpiece terminating the
tube, which she placed to her mouth, and, after drawing some long puffs of the
tobacco, presented it to me. Such was the ceremonial; and without hesitation I
took the amber, and in my turn inhaled the odoriferous smoke. The pipe, following
the circle, passed from me to Schaumburg, and was afterwards presented to the
dewan (first minister); who accepted it hesitatingly, and towards whom all eyes
were directe!. It is well known that the Mussulmans, looking upon Europeans
as infidels, and consequently as impure beings, cannot touch anything that has
been polluted by their lips. The poor minister found himself placed in a grievous
dilemma. To refuse the pipe would be to insult us, and perhaps displease the
queen; to accept it was to disobey the precepts of Mahomet. At last, however,
temporal interests seemed to outweigh spiritual scruples; and the dewan, timidly
applying the amber to his lips, inhaled a slight puff of smoke; whereupon,
following his example, the other Mussulmans accepted the pipe without hesitation.
This calumet of peace, indeed, might easily have become a cause of discord: but,
as I did not care to see this scene renewed every evening, seeming thus to wound
voluntarily the religious scruples of these good people, on the following day I
begged the queen to allow us to bring our own hookahs for our use.

As soon as the ceremony of the hookah was over, the choubdars introduced
the people who were appointed to amuse us during the evening into the saloon.
There were nautchnis, male dancers, acrobats, and performers of tricks of every
description.

My readers having already witnessed with me more than one nautch, I shall
not return to the subject ; but it was the first time I had ever seen men in India
execute those dances which are everywhere reserved for women, and are considered
degrading to the stronger sex; though this surprised me less in a country where
the government has already been for two generations in the hands of women, and

   
464 INDIA.

is likely to remain so during two more. It was natural that the Begum, wishing
to raise the social level of women in her States, should think herself as
much at liberty to have a masculine nautch as other rajahs to have a feminine
nautch.

The male dancers, who are called cathacks, were fine tall young men, from
eighteen to twenty years of age; and, attired in a very rich costume, they executed
the very same dance as the nautchnis, with great agility and much grace. Still it
was rather a ridiculous spectacle to see those great, powerful young fellows balanc-
ing themselves to the sound of little bells, mad: executing poses plastiques with
their scarves. But is it, after all, more ridiculous than the pirouettes of our
opera-dancers ? see

Another dance, saactaly more graceful and iuiSecting: was the ege-dance.
This is not, as one might ia from the name, a dance executed upon these
fragile articles.

The dancing-girl, jeaeea in the ordinary female costume of the women of the
people, a bodice and very short sarri, carries on her head a wicker wheel of
tolerably large diameter, placed in a perfectly horizontal manner on the top of the
crown; and round this wheel threads’ are attached at equal distances, provided at
their extremities with a slip-knot, which is kept open by means of a glass bead.
The dancing-girl advances towards the spectators, holding a basket filled with eggs,
which she hands to us so that we may verify that they are real eggs and not
imitation.

The music strikes up a monotonous and jerking measure, and the dancer begins
turning herself round with great rapidity. Then, seizing an egg, she inserts it in
one of “the slip-knots, and with a sharp movement jerks it so as to tighten the knot.
By means of the centrifugal force produced by the rapidity of the dancer’s circular
movement, the thread holding the egg is stretched out so that the egg is placed in
a straight line with the prolongation of the corresponding spoke of the wheel.
One after the other the eggs are thrown into the slip-knots, and they soon form a
horizontal aureola round the head of the dancing-girl. At this point the dance
becomes more and more rapid, and the features of the dancer can with difficulty
be distinguished. It is a critical moment: the least false step, the slightest,
stoppage, and the eggs would be smashed one against another.

But, now, how is the dance to be interrupted? How is it to be stopped?
There is only one way, and that is by withdrawing the eggs in the same manner
in which they have been fixed there; and, in spite of all appearances to the con-
trary, this last operation is the more delicate of the two. The dancer must with
one single clear and precise movement seize the egg and draw it towards her; it
is evident that, if the hand were carelessly to place itself within the circle, it
would suffice for it to touch one of the threads only for the general harmony to
be suddenly broken. At last all the eggs are successfully withdrawn; the dancer.
stops abruptly ; and, without seeming in the least degree dizzy from the constant
whirling, she advances with a firm step towards us, and presents us with the eggs
contained in the basket, which are broken on the spot into a plate, by way of
proving the complete absence of all trickery.

Of the conjurors who thus passed before us in succession on our evenings at
the palace, one of the most singular was an individual who juggled in the most
extraordinary manner with sharp-edged tools; and let it be remembered that here
AN EXTRAORDINARY $UGGLER. 465

too it was very difficult to use deception, for the tricks weré executed with the
poignards or sabres of the company present. This man seemed indeed invulner-
able; although almost entirely naked, he pressed the sharp point of a sword against
his breast so as to bend the blade igto a half circle. At a given moment he

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THE EGG-DANCE.

placed himself on his back, and laid on his chest one of those thin leaves which
form one of the ingredients of the bétel; his acolyte then approached, armed with
a sabre the blade of which had been carefully sharpened, and with a formidably
aimed blow cut in half the bétel leaf placed on the juggler’s breast.

‘As these tricks had astonished the queen, the juggler engaged, if we would
26
466 INDIA.

grant him an exhibition by day on the square of the palace, to astonish us
still more.

The next day, accordingly, he executed certainly the most prodigious feats of
skill, passing over a narrow circle surrounded with sabre points, and walking upon
sharp blades. Then asking for some fresh cocoa-nuts, and throwing them into the
air, he let them fall upon his skull, whereon they were smashed as upon a rock,
Lastly, a waggon was brought, a heavy vehicle which two oxen could scarcely
drag; one of the guards’ lances was solidly fastened to the shaft, so as to present
its point at the extremity, and a certain number of the common people were
invited to get into the waggon, which the juggler, placing his naked skull against
the point of the lance, pushed forward thus loaded for about ten paces. After
this feat, of course, every one wanted to inspect his iron skull. The man com-
placently showed his head to each of us, and we were able to assure ourselves
that he had no other cuirass than the very thick skin which Nature had given
him for his share, but which, nevertheless, was stout enough to resist a pressure
that would have pierced through the body of an elephant.

It must not, however, be supposed that the evenings at the palace were always
devoted entirely to such material amusements. After the solemn ceremony of the
hookah and the coffee, we often went to sit on the verandah, or, if the weather per-
mitted it, on the high terrace, whence we commanded the panorama of the valley
and the lakes, lighted by the radiance of thousands of stars; when some clever
story-teller would relate some of the national legends to us, which he chanted in
strophes, interrupted by a series of exclamations, as in our sailors’ interminable
tales; or else one of the young nobles, accompanying himself on a sort of lute,
would sing the Taza-bi-Taza, and other poetry of the time of the Great Moguls.

Towards midnight or one o’clock the queen retired; our horses awaited us on
the square; and, accompanied by some soldiers of our guard, we galloped through
the solitary streets of the sleeping city. These men, armed with lances, riding by
our side; the houses with their fantastic outlines; our own costumes even, all
glittering with gold,—all seemed the effect of some dream which had transported
us back to the Paris of the Middle Ages. Arrived at the gates of the city, we
aroused the guards; the heavy doors were half opened, and our little troop
proceeded across the country towards our peaceful habitation.

A short time after our return from Sehore, the queen presented us to her
daughter, the Begum Shah Jehan. The princess, in obedience to the injunctions
of the Mussulman laws, of which her husband, Prince Oumra Doula, was a fanatic
observer, did not, however, exhibit herself to our eyes. She was separated from
us by a blind of fine straw, which permitted her to see us without being seen
herself; but at the end of the interview, which was tolerably long, and at which
the queen was present, the curtain was lightly raised to give passage to a slender
delicate hand with fingers covered with diamonds, which I pressed in mine in
Asiatic fashion. This was all we saw that day of the mysterious princess; and
the Begum Secunder did not allow the opportunity to pass without again expressing
all the aversion which this custom of the purdah, cutting off women so entirely
from the society of her fellow-creatures, inspired her with. But a very unexpected
event was soon to put an end to this position, so displeasing to the Begum, and
permit us to satisfy our curiosity. Some weeks after our interview, one of the
nobles arrived on horseback in great haste at the Moti Bungalow, to announce to
*

A VISIT OF CONDOLENCE. 467

us from the queen that the Prince Oumra Doula had been found dead in his bed
that morning. This news, the sirdar added, had diffused consternation throughout
the palace, for the prince was in the prime of life, and seemed to be of a robust
constitution. The ladies were confined,to their apartments, and received no visits
for two days; at the end of which I went to the palace with Schaumburg to pay
our visit of condolence to the Begum. Her highness received us with strong
demonstrations of grief, exclaiming, “It was written. Allah had so ordered it.
Oumra in dying leaves us only a daughter, and for years to come the kingdom of
Bhopal will be governed by the distaff. May the Almighty power come to the
aid of two poor inexperienced women!” Then, according to the Indian custom,
she sat herself on the ground, and, striking her breast, began reciting a sort of
litany in honour of the deceased. “Aie! Aie! how firm was his arm! And how
bright his eye! Aie! Aie! what wisdom!” We were alone with the Begum,
and this grief impressed us greatly. After some moments, I thought I might
address some few words of consolation to her. The sound of my voice seemed to
rouse her from her state of prostration; she suddenly rose, and, calling an
attendant, asked for the dewan. ‘The first minister soon arrived, and received
an order from the queen to conduct us himself to the palace of the princess
Shah Jehan. “You will console my daughter,” said the queen, on taking leave
of us.

Following the dewan, we proceeded towards the palace of Oumra, the facade
of which extends along one of the sides of the square of the palace. We were
introduced into a large room on the ground floor, which had been transformed by
the deceased prince into a sort of museum of European curiosities, and the walls
of which were hung with mirrors and pictures of every description, from the
engravings of Epinal to the paintings on glass of Parisian manufacture. In the
middle of this apartment stood a long table, on which were ranged side by side
the most heterogeneous articles—musical boxes, clocks, toys, and articles of
hardware.

The minister left us in this room, after having sent to announce our arrival
to the princess; and, in a few moments after, one of the doors opened and I saw
a young woman enter, dressed in the strange and almost masculine costume which
niakes the Bhopalese women resemble the young pages who appear on our theatres.
Imagining her to be one of the princess’s attendants, I advanced indifferently to
meet the young girl; but with a gesture full of dignity she stopped me, saying,
“Tam Shah Jehan!” I paused a moment in amazement, and bowed profoundly;
and my astonishment may be conceived on finding myself suddenly in the presence
of the princess whom I imagined to be still strictly confined to her harem.
Nevertheless, recovering somewhat from my surprise, I addressed my compliments
of condolence to her, telling her how, during the short time I had known Prince
Oumra Doula, I had learnt to esteem and even to like him. Without attempting
to feign the slightest emotion, the young princess put a stop to my praises, saying
with a slight shrug of the shoulders this simple word, “Kismet!” (“It was
written.”) Then motioning me to seat myself near her on one of the sofas, she
said abruptly to me, “So you come from Paris?” and I was compelled, without
taking breath, to give a description of Paris, its monuments and the manners of
its inhabitants. I could not get over my bewilderment, and was almost shocked
at this utter want of feeling; when the Begum Secunder arrived. She could not
468 INDIA.

help smiling on remarking my astonishment, and, having seated herself beside us,
said to me, “I mourn for Oumra Doula because I lose in him a faithful friend
and counsellor, but why should my daughter mourn? Does the prisoner regret
his gaoler?” Strange words these from the lips of an Asiatic! They are indeed
the condemnation of the worn-out custom of the sequestration of women, which
Mussulmans persist in keeping up in spite of the constant progress of civilisation
among them.

Still, from a regard for propriety, the Begums were obliged to exhibit before
the people a sorrow which they did not feel at heart; and, during a whole month,

 

THE PRINCESS SHAH JEHAN,

every féte and every amusement was to be suspended at the palace, and the
princesses were to remain secluded in their harem without receiving any visit
from without. At the same time, solemn public prayers had been ordered in all
the mosques.

The Princess Shah Jehan I should take to have been from five to six and
twenty years of age. Her face, which was of great beauty, and of a dull white
hue, was lighted by black eyes of a singular expression of pride and determination,
indicating that she would be a true daughter of Secunder. One thing alone dis-
figured her striking countenance, and that was the blackness of the teeth, corroded
and roughened by the abuse of bétel. She wore the singular costume of the
a

A CYCLONE. 469

Bhopalese ladies of the Court—close-fitting pantaloons of gold brocade, an em-
broidered jacket, and a light muslin toque; and at her side hung an elegant
poignard with jewelled hilt. On taking leave of us, she shook hands with each
of us in the English fashion, and appoigted to meet us, at the end of a month, at
one of the evening receptions of the queen; when she added that she would
no longer be compelled to hide herself like a poor slave behind a straw
curtain.

On the evening of this singular interview a frightful cyclone burst over the
city. As we issued from the palace, typhoons of dust swept the streets, scatter-
ing the crowd, which fled uttering the cry of “Tofin, tofan!” We put our
horses to a gallop, but, as soon as we had passed the gates, the wind began
blowing with such violence that I expected every instant to be unhorsed. At
last we reached the Moti Bungalow, where we found all the servants up and busy
solidly barricading all the outlets of the house. It was but just time, for the
cyclone approached rapidly, and soon its fearful gusts burst upon our dwelling.
The uproar was deafening. To the ceaseless rumblings of the thunder were added
the cracking of the falling trees, the howling of the unchained winds, and the
roaring of the lake, while every now and then a noise like a distant cannon-shot
told us that some house in the city had fallen a victim to the fury of the elements.
We expected every moment to see our bungalow share the same fate, for the walls
shook frightfully, and the tiles of the roof fell crashing to the ground. At last,
about two o'clock in the morning, a profound silence suddenly ensued; and
after waiting a few moments, we opened one of the doors; when the sky was
bright with stars, and the black mass of the cyclone was disappearing fast in the
distance. It would be impossible to conceive a more complete and sudden change,
the calm pure atmosphere being scarcely stirred by the faintest breeze.

The next day we were able to realise the effects of these few hours of
the cyclone’s visit. The greater part of the trees of our garden lay stretched on
the ground, and our bungalow had lost half of its roofing. But in the city the
disaster had been terrible; a great many houses had fallen, burying some of the
unfortunate inhabitants under their ruins.

The newspapers brought us the intelligence some time afterwards that this
same cyclone had destroyed a whole suburb in Calcutta.
CHAPTER XLVI.
THE COURT OF THE BEGUM.

The Bhopal-Tal.—The Dykes of Bhoje.—The Ruins of Bhojepore.—The Passage of the Betwa.—
The Great Khillut.—The Féte of the 15th of August at the Princess de Bourbon’s,—The
Kiladar and the Mussulmans.—Last Interview with the Begums. —Departure.

"| HE Court mourning threatening us with a month’s solitude, I
resolved to make an excursion with my companion in the
eastern part of the kingdom of Bhopal. It is true that the
monsoon was far from having reached its term, and the rain
might overtake us, and perhaps blockade us in some place far
from any town; but the violent cyclone of the preceding week
saeniied to have swept the air, and the sun shone in the midst of a clear and cloud-
less sky. We reckoned on being absent several weeks, and took all the establish-
ment of the Moti Bungalow with us, both servants and soldiers, besides five
elephants, one of which was for our own use, and the others to carry our tents,
furniture, and apparatus. I hoped to be able to cross the Vindhyas and reach
the valley of the Nerbudda beyond Hoshungabad ; and on my road lay the ruins
of an ancient city called Bhojepore, which were described to me as being especially
interesting, and near which I determined to make my first halt.

Having set out on our march on the 28th of July, at six o’clock in the
morning, after two hours’ journey we reached a little row of hills which form
the point of division of the waters of the Besali and the Betwa; and on the’
other side of which we entered upon a magnificent valley surrounded by moun-
tains of no great height, and covered with superb cultivation and smiling villages.
This plain, about three centuries ago, was one of the finest and most extensive
lakes in India.

According to tradition, a king named Bhoje, having seen his mother burnt
alive on the funeral pile of her husband, made a vow to stop the course of
nine rivers and ninety-nine watercourses, and to form a vast sea in her honour.
The magnificent valley of Bhojepore seemed to him to be exactly fitted for his
purpose. It was in fact traversed by the Betwa and eight of its tributaries, and
the numerous rivulets, which descended from all the surrounding heights, far out-
numbered the requisite quantity; and, to attain his object, he caused the defiles
of the mountain to be stopped by means of three dykes, sixty feet in height by
a width of forty feet, and extending over two miles. These dykes, composed of
enormous roughly squared blocks, piled regularly, without any mortar, are one of
the most gigantic works executed in ancient times; and in respect of their

  

 
*

RUINS OF BHOYEPORE. ; 4qi

proportions, and the amount of labour they must have required, they can be
compared only to the Pyramids of Egypt. The lake thus formed extended over
a length of thirty-five miles; and a width of twelve to fifteen miles, with a depth
which in some parts must have exceeded a hundred feet; and at certain points
of its surface appeared green island’, which at the present day are only the
summits of isolated hills, while the banks were covered with rich cultivation
and with large villages and towns, of which the most important must have been
Bhojepore.

In the fourteenth century, Hoshung Shah, king of Malwa, thinking that this
lake occupied too vast a space in his little kingdom, gave orders for a breach to
be made in the great barriers of the Betwa; when the waters rushed with
impetuous fury into this channel, and, carrying away part of the wall, inundated
all the lower valley of the Betwa, destroying the towns and villages in its course
even beyond Oorcha. The bed of the empty lake was found covered with a
rich black mould, admirably fertile. It soon became one of the richest districts
of India; and, down to the present day, bearing the name of Bhoje-ka-Tal, or
Bhopal-Tal, that is, lake of Bhoje or Bhopal, it does not contain less than three
hundred villages.

Our road took us over the summit of one of the dykes, still as intact as on
the day when it was completed; and, on measuring some of the blocks of which
it is composed, I found they were as much as nine feet in length. At the end of
this dyke, the quarry is still to be seen whence this enormous quantity of stone
was procured.

Bhojepore, the ancient capital, was situated on the northern bank of the lake;
and its ruins lie on the slope of a hill, at the foot of which flows the Betwa;
only a miserable hamlet representing the past.

The Betwa separated us from the village, near which our tents were already
pitched; but as its impetuous current prevented us from crossing it by a ford, we
were obliged to use a narrow canoe, formed out of the trunk of a tree, in order to
gain the opposite shore. This frail skiff was nearly carried away by the force of
the torrent to some rapids which we could hear roaring within a hundred yards
of us; and I inwardly made a vow never to trust again to the nautical talents of
the natives.

On our landing we were waited upon by the chief authority of the village,
the mahunt of the convent, who was installed in the Bhojepore-ka-mundil, the
celebrated temple which is the sole survivor of the great city of Bhoje. The
worthy superior came to bid us welcome, and invited us to visit the famous place
without delay.

The temple is situated on a high mount, part of which has been converted
into a terrace; and it is reached by a dilapidated flight of steps, overlooked by the
poor buildings of the convent; where, passing under a little doorway, we found
ourselves at once before the great facade. A vast pointed gap, the archwork of
which has partly disappeared, occupies the centre, leaving the interior of the
sanctuary visible; and the facade is very remarkable from the marked contrast of
its simplicity and mode of construction with the other monuments of India. Large
monoliths not measuring less than from thirty to forty feet in height, standing
side by side, form the exterior wall; both sides of which had no other ornament
than two heads of monsters, of graceful design, from which issued a chain ter-
472 INDIA.

minating in a bell. The chain and the bell are well known as being one of the
favourite adjuncts of Jain architecture.

I have said that the walls had no other ornament besides these sculptures, but
a short time since they were decorated with statues taken from another ancient
temple. A flight of a few steps leads to the threshold of the portal, and then
descends again to the base of the sanctuary, which slopes downwards. There you
face an altar of such gigantic proportions that it almost fills the entire temple.
It covers, in fact, a surface of forty-four square yards; and this enormous mais,
composed of three superposed granite monoliths, is finished by elegant cornices.

A staircase, concealed so as not to injure the general effect, leads to the
summit of the altar, in the centre of which stands a polished cylindrical stone
post, perfectly rounded at its summit, and, at the corners of the hall, four superb
monolithic columns support the roof of the temple. These columns are considered
by the Indians as marvels of their national architecture; and they maintain that
he who has never seen the Bhojepore-ka-khoumbas has seen nothing. It is,
indeed, impossible to conceive a more graceful form combined with so imposing a
mass. Each shaft, which rests on a pedestal two yards in height, is divided into
three equal sections; the first and the second are octagon, and the third has
twenty-four sides, which has the effect of adding wonderfully to the perspective,
and augmenting the apparent height of the columns; and the capital forms a
graceful campanile, whence issue heavy consoles, supporting the extremities of the
four massive architraves on which the roof rests. It is on this roof, a magnificent
concentric Jain dome, that the architect appears to have bestowed all the orna-
mental riches of which he has been so sparing in the rest of the edifice. Each
of the circles of the cupola is a continuous network of lace, flowers, fruits, and
arabesques, in the midst of which sport innumerable figures of musicians and
dancing-girls.

The central part of the dome has fallen in through the work of time, and now
the rains of heaven water the lingam of Mahadeo. Innumerable bees have hung
their honeycombs to the roof, which thus seems decorated with stalactites. These
busy insects fill the temple with their whirring and buzzing, and the visitor
hesitates at first to penetrate into such a beehive: but the priests reassure you by _
saying that they sting only the enemies of Mahadeo; and if only you have your
conscience at ease on this point, you may enter with impunity. It is certainly a
fact that during our visit a great number of them settled upon me, but without
doing me any harm.

The approaches to the temple are covered with the enormous stones of ruined
edifices ; and behind the monument is still to be seen the inclined plane by means
of which the architects of the fifth century raised the heavy monoliths into their
sockets. A little farther on, after passing through thorns and brushwood, we
sighted another ruined temple containing the monolithic statue of a Tirthankar,
twenty feet high; and as we advanced through the jungle, at each step we took
we found heaps of ruins and sculptured stones.

At a short distance from the village, the Betwa dashes with a roar across a
narrow defile, partly obstructed by the cyclopean remains of one of. the dykes of
Bhoje.

On my return from this exploration, I found my servants in great glee, the
mahunt having sent them several kids and some cans of milk. Nor did the
CROSSING THE BETWA. “473
worthy superior of the convent forget us, for on our dinner-table was a heap of
chupatees, flour cakes similar to pancakes, which the monks had made expressly
for us, with the finest ghee.

The evening was splendid, and the sky brilliant with stars; so we retired to
rest with the pleasant conviction that We hai left Bhopal for some time. "But the
monsoon is the season for sudden changes. We had hardly slept a few hours
before we were startled from our slumbers by a frightful uproar, and we saw our
tent shaken by a furious wind. In short, it was a repetition of the scene at
Govindgurh. Fearing to be smothered in the canvas of our habitation, we rushed
outside, and for a whole half-hour received at the foot of a tree a very disagreeable
shower, in which rain was mingled with broken branches and stones, swept along
by the wind, and dashing into our faces. We dared not to approach our tent,
round which the uprooted stakes, attached to their cords, were executing a terrible
whitligig.

At length the wind abated, but the rain continued pouring down in torrents ;
and when we regained our tent we found our beds and baggage swimming.
Fortunately our table had escaped from the deluge; and without taking any
further notice of the rain, which came in on all sides at the rent partitions, we
rolled ourselves in our blankets, and lay down on this not over-downy couch and
slept till morning.

The morning, alas! brought us no consolation. The sky was one unbroken
sheet of grey, and the rain fell without ceasing; and, what was worse, the
Betwa, overflowing its banks, rolled its yellow waters to the very foot of our
tent, threatening to sweep away our encampment. We had no alternative left us
but to return to Bhopal without delay; but how were we to cross the furious
torrent which barred our road? Schaumburg and I looked sorry figures in our
torn clothes, all covered with mud ; and we consulted about the means of getting
away from this unlucky spot; but how were we to cross the river? That was
the difficulty; from which I called upon my good bearer to rescue us. “ Nothing
is easier,” says he. “We must not even think of the boats, which could not
resist the force of the current; but we have three elephants, and they will carry
us with our baggage and tents to the opposite side.” How could our elephants
face such a stream? I sent for the mahouts, and they all declared that they were
ready to make the attempt rather than let us remain where we were, without
shelter from the rain.

As soon as the order was given every one set to work, and the tents were
raised and placed on the backs of the elephants, on which the men divided them-
selves. Schaumburg, myself, and the bearer mounted our favourite elephant, which
we used at Bhopal; and, when all was ready, our mahout urged his animal
towards the river. The sagacious beast approached the water, sounded it for a
moment with his trunk, as though to test the force of the stream, and then fell
back uttering two or three cries like the sound of a clarion, as if to protest against
our temerity. A touch with a pike on the crown of his head warned him, how-
ever, that we were not inclined to dispute about the matter; and, bravely resigning
himself, he dashed into the water. His heavy bulk seemed insensible to the
strength of the current, yet it was only by letting himself drift for a few hundred:
yards that he could reach the opposite bank. There he had already planted his
fore-feet on the ground, his crupper rounded, and we had arrived in port, when
474 INDIA.

suddenly his feet slipped, and he fell back heavily into the torrent, causing the
water to dash upwards above our heads. A terrible cry of anguish escaped our
lips, for we were lost! The elephant, bewildered and desperate, was floating
along, carried away by the stream, and we could even hear the roaring of the falls
of the Betwa in front of us. All at once the intelligent animal appeared to
stiffen his body, we felt him swimming; he left the bed of the current, and soon
we touched the bank. But there a fresh difficulty awaited us. We found our-
selves facing an almost perpendicular bank of clay, from eight to ten feet in height.
The elephant buried his feet in it, kneading the muddy earth; and, making it
yield under his repeated efforts, he at length succeeded in hollowing out a passage.
We had reached half-way to the top; the ground was almost within reach of
our hands, and below us was the torrent roaring, dashing down ten yards farther
off over the ruins of the dyke. A single false move of the animal would have
been certain death to us: but the elephant seemed to be as sensible as ourselves
of the imminence of the peril; and he worked on with incredible energy, excited
by his mahout, who caressed and supplicated him in touching accents. At times
the whole mass of his hide was convulsed with a nervous tremor, and he uttered
low plaintive cries. At last, after a quarter of an hour’s labour, the elephant’s
back reached the level of the ground, when we leaped on the bank, and, relieved
of our weight, he soon after rejoined us.

It may be imagined with what feelings of gratitude I embraced the brave
animal to which we owed our lives. Thus for the second time, in less than three
months, the sagacity of an elephant had saved us from a terrible catastrophe.

Our attendants remained silent and motionless on the Bhojepore side of the
stream, watching the drama with terror. I had formally forbidden them to
attempt the passage at the same point we had crossed from; and, acting upon the
information of a peasant, I ordered them to go up the stream of the Betwa a
mile or two farther on, to a part where its bed was much shallower.

After giving our elephant time to rest, we resumed our march, but we were
not yet at the end of our troubles. The rain, which had ceased for a short time,
began falling again with fresh violence as we were crossing the mountain, and
this time accompanied by thunder and lightning. Never before had I witnessed _
such electric discharges as these. We were literally enveloped in the thunder,
and a blue light seemed to cover the water that poured in sheets down the rocks.

At last we issued from the mountain, and left the storm behind us; but in
the plain fresh difficulties awaited us. Our elephant sank deep in the soaked
earth, and torrents barred our road. It may be imagined in what a state of fatigue
and disorder we were, having eaten nothing but a little cold meat since the day
before, when at half-past twelve at night our elephant deposited us at the Moti
Bungalow. We had taken twenty hours to travel over sixteen miles. Let this
serve as a salutary lesson to travellers disposed to be rash enough to brave the
monsoon in the Indian jungle.

The month of August was one of the rainiest I had ever witnessed, and it
kept us confined to our bungalow, rarely permitting us an excursion out of doors.
During all this time we had only two opportunities for getting a little relaxation
—once at the féte of the 15th of August, at the Doolan Sircar’s, and again at the
féte of the Cocos.

Father T

 

, missionary and chaplain to the Princess de Bourbon, having
FETE TO THE FRANTCIS PEOPLE. ” 475
been questioned by the princess as to what day was consecrated in France as
a national holiday, could think of nothing better than the date of the 15th
of August; and thus the Imperial féte was carefully kept every year by the
Doolin Sircar. The féte of the Napoleons observed by the descendants of the
Bourbons !

A high mass with a Te Deum first assembled all the members of this
interesting community, who offered up fervent prayers to God for France, that
mystic land which they look upon as their cradle. Both men and women came
to this solemnity in their best attire. The men had nothing in their costume
to distinguish them from the Mussulmans. Those who wore turbans kept them
on their heads during the divine service, while those who wore toques or caps
devoutly took them off. As for the women, their costume consisted of a long,
thickly plaited petticoat, and a cloak of white linen without any ornament, in
which they enveloped all the upper part of their persons, letting nothing be seen
of their faces but their fine large black eyes. They were, however, separated
entirely from the men, who seemed to observe towards them all the rules of
Mussulman etiquette.

After mass, all the Frantcis people were assembled in a vast hall of the palace,
where a copious repast was provided for them by order of their suzerain; and the
sirdars and nobles of the family took their seats at a banquet in the European
fashion, served in the grand saloon and presided over by the princess. We were
among the guests at this feast, and our presence was not the least interesting
feature of the féte to the worthy Frantcis. Those who arrived from their distant
provinces gazed at us with eyes full of astonishment, doubtless wondering within
themselves whether it were really true that high and mighty white gentlemen,
such as we were, could possibly belong to their caste.

At the end of the repast, the Bordeaux wine which I had obtained permission
from the princess to have brought on the table, loosened their tongues, and
heightened the interest which was expressed in our behalf; and the toast, which
was courteously proposed in our honour by the Sircar’s nephew, Merban Mussuah,
or Dieudonné Bourbon, was received with unanimous applause. This amiable
young man told us that my arrival had been considered by all these Frantcis
as a good omen; that it was the first opportunity they had had of seeing a
sahib of their caste; and he believed he was interpreting the wish of his aunt
and of all her subjects in inviting me to look upon Bhopal as my country, and
the Frantcis as my brethren. In reply, I embraced Merbin and the Doolan,
saying that I considered the Frantcis as my brothers, and that, if I did not
remain with them, I should not forget to inform my countrymen in France that
there existed in India a small group of people who remembered their French
origin with pride, and had received fraternally with open arms the French traveller
who had come to visit them.

The day closed with a second banquet, after which there was the inevitable
conflagration of petards and Bengal fire, and the not less inevitable nautch.

The next day, August 16th, all the Hindoo population of Bhopal had their
holiday in celebration of the supposed close of the monsoon. I have already
detailed the ceremonies observed at this festival, under the head of Bombay ; but
must explain that, as the cocoa-tree is unknown here, and the cocoa-nut consequently
a rather expensive fruit, the people content themselves by assembling in picturesque
476 INDIA.

groups on the banks of the lake, and throwing into the water, as offerings, earthen-
ware pots in which blades of wheat have sprung up ; and that fakirs who take up
positions in the crowd mark every one present on the forehead with the earth
mixed with ashes, though for what purpose I could not understand.

In recording that during all this month we had no amusements, I forget what
was provided for us by the guests who shared with us the hospitable shelter of
the Moti Bungalow. ‘hese guests were no other than thousands of reptiles and
insects, which, being driven from the gardens by the rain, had sought refuge in
the roof and subsoil of our dwelling. Their presence of course was somewhat
annoying, but the continual hunts we had with them slightly broke the monotony
of our days, and an enthusiastic naturalist doubtless would have esteemed it a
lucky chance.

I question if the reptile department in the Jardin des Plantes could ever
boast of a more varied and interesting collection. To begin with, our apartments
swarmed with lizards, large and small, which walked impudently over the walls
and ceilings; and, if we happened to raise a mat or a carpet, we were sure to find
scorpions of all sizes and colours, scolopendra, centipedes with venomous stings,
and black hairy spiders of most respectable dimensions. As for serpents, not a
day passed without discovering some black cobras, whip snakes, and other species;
and we might easily have filled a vast number of jars if we had only had the
spirits of wine.

With the month of August the official mourning of the court ceased. A grand
soirée was given at the palace to inaugurate the return to the usual mode of life,
when the princess Shah Jehan showed herself for the first time to the courtiers
with uncovered face; and the next day, to the utter amazement of all fervent
Mussulmans, she passed through the city in masculine attire, proudly mounted on
horseback. Shortly after we received a visit from Hussein Khan, who was the
bearer of an official message from the queen, the meaning of which I was at first
unable to understand, so largely were the good secretary’s phrases intermingled
with Oriental flowers of rhetoric; but the Begum, it seems, flattered by our
adoption of the Bhopalese costume, had conceived the project of presenting us
with a khillut of honour, to which a Court dignity was attached. I refused at
first, remarking to Hussein Khan that these honours which the Begum designed
for us might give offence to the English authorities, who up to this time had so
courteously granted us aid and protection, and who might suspect us of ambitious
designs little befitting simple travellers; but I finally complied, on the express
condition that the ceremony should be of a strictly private character, which
could raise no difficulty from without; and the Begum herself, whom I saw the
same evening, assured me that everything should proceed according to my wishes.

On the morning of the appointed day, the raj-durzi came to try on the
glittering costumes which the queen had ordered for each of us for the occasion.
They consisted of long tunics of green silk gauze embossed with gold, vast
petticoat pantaloons of crimson satin embroidered with silver, kumurbunds,
or cashmere belts, of violet and gold, cloaks of deep scarlet-coloured cashmere
embroidered with gold and silver, and, to crown all, toque diadems in fine gold.

Having arrayed ourselves thus gorgeously, Schaumburg and myself, accompanied
by Hussein Khan, took our seats in one of the Court equipages. Everywhere
the people crowded along the road, greeting us with sympathetic salaams; and
DEPARTURE FROM BHOPAL. “477

on the steps of the palace we are awaited by a deputation of Bhopalese nobles,
headed by the dewan; who helped me to alight from the carriage, and taking my
elbow in the Oriental fashion, as though he feared my strength might fail me,
supported me as I mounted the grand staircase. In the hall of the durbars the
queen was seated on a raised throne,*surrounded by the high dignitaries of her
Court. She wore the royal costume, nearly similar to our own, as well as the gold
toque with four plumes, and the collar and stars of the Order of the Star of India.

On seeing me approach, she rose, and, presenting me with a firman in its
envelope of embroidered silk, said in a resounding voice, “ Welcome, Sirdar Rous-
selet Sahib Shemsher Bahadour!” I bowed respectfully, and took my place at
her right hand, and after Schaumburg’s reception we all sat down. The hookahs
were now brought in, and soon the queen placed a ring set with a large diamond
on my finger, repeating with emphasis the full title she had conferred upon me,
Then the utterpin was handed round, and we took our departure with the same
ceremonies as were observed on our arrival.

My readers may perhaps think that I dwell at too great length on an incident
that I might even have passed over in silence. But I am merely giving a faithful
description of the results of my travels; and I must repeat that at Bhopal, as in
the other Indian courts or in the English cities, I never considered the reception
I obtained as addressed to myself personally. On Indian princes as on English
officers my chief claim was in the character of a French traveller; whereas the
marks of sympathy and the honours which were paid me were all addressed to
that great French name of which I am but the humblest representative.

‘The month of September passed very pleasantly in every description of fétes,
and in excursions to Sehore and the environs; yet it was with satisfaction that I
saw the end of the monsoon approaching, and with it the moment when I could
resume my journey, so long suspended.

My intention was to set out immediately and reach Gwalior by way of Malwa
and Omutwara, without touching at Indore, a town which every traveller has
described ; and, though the queen pressed me to stay another month, I was im-
patient to start. I was obliged, however, to check this impatience when Major
Willoughby Osborne assured me that the roads would be absolutely impracticable
until the end of October, and advised me, if I did not wish to have a renewal of my
mishap at Bhojepore, to stay quietly at Bhopal until the first days of November.

On the 30th October, having sent on our servants and baggage before us, we
went to pay our farewell respects to the Begum; when we found her surrounded
by Madame Elizabeth de Bourbon, Shah Jehan, Sultana, the dewan, and all our
friends. Why should I recall this separation? It was one of the most painful
that I had experienced in all my travels. I had become sincerely attached to
this noble and intelligent woman, and was happy in the friendship shown to me
by all these worthy people. Our carriage, surrounded by horsemen who executed
a curious fantasia around it, mounted the hill; and we were accompanied by
Hussein Khan, who desired to be the last to shake hands with us. We reached
the summit; the city, the lakes, and, deep in the valley, the Moti Bungalow lay
spread at our feet; and then with a last pressure of the hand of Hussein Khan, a
last look at Bhopal, and all the memories of the past six months crowding on the
memory—en route! The horses started at a gallop, and our train descended
towards the plains of Malwa.
CHAPTER XLVII.
MALWA.

A Journey in a Caléche.—Passage of the ParbuttiitAn Inhospitable Rajah,—Nursingurh,—
Bioura,—The Great Trunk Road.—Goonah.—Sipri.—The Chopaya,—The Dak-Ghari.—-From
Charyhbdis to Scylla.—Gwalior,

“N seeing us arrive in the sumptuous equipage provided for us by
the Begum, the first words of Major Willoughby Osborne were,
“ Why, you cannot be thinking of travelling in that frail vehicle ?”
“ Yes, certainly,” I answered; “I am very comfortable in it, and
mean to remain in it as long as I possibly can.” “ Well,” re-
° turned he, “you will not go very far. You do not know, per-
haps, that at this time of the year the rich heavy soil of Malwa is so saturated
and softened by the rains that the elephants and camels cannot pass over it. For
the same reason your carriage, light as it may be, will be embedded in the mud at
the very first stage. You will not have gone five miles before you will be
obliged to come back. The evil would be less if you were going on a regularly
traced route; but, with the itinerary you have indicated to me, you have many
miles to accomplish without even a pathway for carts; you will have to go straight
across country ; you will have to pass more than twenty nullahs and two large
rivers, and cross an almost impracticable defile in the hills of Nursingurh. It
will be impossible for you to get through it all!” “Well, that remains to be
proved. The carriage is light, solid, and capable of resisting more than one
jolting. I have people with me. J am determined to make the attempt.”

After a day passed with our kind hosts, who endeavoured to detain me until
the roads had become practicable, I consulted my map, and despatched my
servants to the village of Koundwah, eleven miles north of Sehore. The next
morning, November 3rd, we got into our carriage, and, bidding a last farewell to
our friends, were soon carried on at-the full speed of our four horses.

For a distance of five or six miles we had a fine road, which serves as a
promenade for the inhabitants of Sehore, and whirled onwards at a splendid pace.
It was a new and pleasant sensation for us to see the beautiful, well-cultivated
plains spreading before us, interspersed with magnificent clusters of trees shading
pretty villages with their tiled roofs: but suddenly the fine road broke off abruptly,
and we found a freshly dug field before us; which our horses bravely encoun-
tered ; and, when we had surmounted this first difficulty, we arrived at a tolerable
pathway. A short distance farther on, however, a fresh difficulty awaited us.
This time the obstacle seemed insurmountable; it was a nullah, a sort of torrent,

 
*

PASSAGE OF THE PARBUTTI. 479

deeply embanked between clayey perpendicular sides. Should we have to abandon
the carriage, and verify the Major’s prognostications ? My horsemen soon decided
to the contrary, for they galloped towards a hamlet, the houses of which were
visible through the trees, and we saw them returning, bringing with them about
forty robust villagers. The horses were taken out, and we crossed the nullah on
their backs, while the carriage was dragged by the villagers.

Once more we seated ourselves in our equipage, and after half an hour’s gallop,
accompanied by fearful jolting, our horses stopped before our tent, the large
conical top of which rose at the foot of a magnificent fig-tree. On the opposite
side of a murmuring stream were grouped the houses of the little town of Kound-
wah, whose thanadar furnished us with everything necessary for ourselves and for
our numerous suite.

November 4th.— We left Koundwah very early in the morning, in our
caléche, accompanied by our servants and baggage. ‘The road, if such a term can
be applied to a wretched pathway, was in a pitiable state; and at nine o’clock
we reached the banks of the Parbutti, which at this point was too deep and the
current too rapid for us to think of crossing the ford with our carriage; we were
therefore compelled to seek assistance from the inhabitants of a neighbouring
village, who hastened to our aid, bringing with them about thirty gurhas, the
light spherical pitchers which the women use to fetch water from the spring.
These gurhas were coupled together, and solidly attached to poles in such a
manner that their orifices were uppermost; and the men, entering into the water,
made a sort of raft of it, on which they placed the carriage, in which they
invited us to seat ourselves; and in this manner, pushed forwards by the arms
of these good people, our vehicle glided smoothly over the water, and reached the
opposite shore. The construction of the raft, and the passage of the river, did
not take more than half an hour.

At eleven o’clock we arrived without further hindrance at the village of
Kourawar, where we pitched our tents in the middle of a grove of wild date-trees.
These date-trees, of a dwarf species, are the sole representatives.of the palm-tree
family on the high plateaux of Central India. They grow spontaneously on all
dry soils, and rarely attain a height of more than nine or ten feet. ‘he fruit
has but slight analogy with the date; it is floury and insipid, although the natives
carefully gather it in. The sap is also collected, and produces a sort of sourish
wine.

Scarcely was our camp installed before the arrival of the Prince of Nur-
singurh, son of the rajah whose territory we had entered upon crossing the
Parbutti, was announced to us. The prince, being out on a hunting-excursion,
professed a desire to profit by this chance meeting to present us his salaams. I
suspected, however, that he was sent to meet us by his father, an old fanatic, who
has a horror of Europeans. I advanced to meet the prince, a fine young man of
proud and insolent appearance, and conducted him into our tent ; when, after the
exchange of a few trifling civilities, the young Rajpoot concluded by asking me
whether we proposed honouring Nursingurh with a visit. On receiving an
affirmative reply, he tried to make me alter my intention by painting the
kingdom and capital of his father in the darkest colours. To this I answered
that we were now only a.day’s march from Nursingurh, and therefore it would be
impossible for us to go back; and I added that I proposed paying my respects to
480 INDIA.

his father, the Maharajah, who must have been made aware of our coming
through the English Resident at Sehore. Thereupon, rising abruptly, he took
leave of us, and one of my servants heard him muttering, “Those dogs shall
never enter Nursingurh.” This was the first time that such a reception awaited
me on Indian territory, especially from the Rajpoots.

Breakfast-hour, however, had struck long ago; and as the prince’s visit had
prevented me from attending to our requirements, I despatched my old bearer to
the village to beg the patel to send us some provisions and the forage we were in
need of, enjoining him particularly to mention that everything brought to our
camp should be paid for. In ten minutes my messenger returned, with his
clothes torn, and covered with bruises. He reported that on entering the
village he found the prince seated on a bench at the door of the patel’s house,
surrounded by about twenty ragged soldiers; and that he approached the patel,
who was standing near the prince, and, after saluting the latter, humbly presented
my request—doubtless too humbly, for the prince, rising, cried out, “Go and tell
your master that we have nothing to do here with him or the like of him ;” and,
applying some coarse epithets to myself, added, “if he wants provisions, let him
come and fetch them himself, and it is I who will give them to him.” My
poor bearer, not daring to bring me back this message, repeated his application ;
upon which two of the prince’s followers threw themselves upon him, struck him,
and pursued him with blows of their scabbards until he was out of the village.

The insult was flagrant, and I could not allow such a provocation to pass
unnoticed. I had only to make a sign, and my Bhopalese sowars, who had
listened with indignation to the bearer’s tale, were in the saddle in an instant,
and Schaumburg and myself, mounting our horses, placed ourselves at their head.
Before starting, I begged them all to use moderation, and throwing the responsi-
bility of what might occur on the prince, I proceeded in the direction of the
village. In this manner we reached the village, but found it deserted. Suddenly,
however, a big man issued hastily from one of the houses, and prostrated himself
before my horse. “Oh! my good lord,” he cried, “I am the patel; you shall
have everything you wish, and without paying either. The prince was no doubt
drunk,—forgive him; but on seeing you arrive, he fled with his servants.” I
quieted the patel, telling him that we were only harmless travellers, and required
but one thing of him, which was, that he should provide us, at the prices of the
bazaar, with the provisions we were in need of. Upon this the worthy man rose,
still trembling, and, calling his servants, who had prudently hidden themselves,
he soon collected the corn, forage, milk, and wood we wanted. If any one had
seen us at that moment issuing from the village, escorting a troop of peasants
laden with provisions of every description, we should certainly have been taken
for a band of marauders making their levies, rather than peaceable travellers
returning from marketing.

In the evening we received the visit of the fat pAtel, who, by way of ingrati-
ating himself, came to offer us guides, and advised us to send on our servants and
baggage the same evening towards Nursineurh, so as to find them installed to-
morrow morning before our arrival. We followed his advice, and, keeping only
two horsemen with us, passed the night tolerably well in our caléche.

November 5th.—¥rom Kourawar to Nursingurh it is scarcely sixteen miles,
but it would be impossible to find a more abominable road. At last, after four
2

NURSINGURH. 481

hours of toil, we reached the foot of the mountains behind which the city of the
Omut Rajpoots is concealed; and our astonishment may be imagined on finding
our servants prostrated with fatigue, and on hearing that the guides given by the
patel of Kourawar had led them about all the night across the plain, and had left
them in the morning at a distance of more than seven miles from the road they
should have taken.

We wended our way wearily together up the hill, which is guarded at several
points by half-ruined walls; and, on arriving at the summit, we saw the city at
our feet, lying in the hollow of a delicious valley, on the borders of a superb lake
shaded by large trees, in which were mirrored the many towers of the royal
chateau crowning the crest of a slight eminence. Shunning the inhospitable city,
we planted our tents on the opposite bank of the lake, on the verge of a superb
forest; but immediately upon our arrival we received a visit from the dewan,
who came with a supply of provisions for us, and to apologise for the bad
reception we had met with at Kourawar. According to his account, we had been
the victims of a misunderstanding ; having been mistaken, not for Europeans, but
for noble Mussulmans of Bhopal, a country with which Nursingurh was on very
cool terms. I accepted these explanations for what they were worth, but refused
the invitation sent me by the rajah to come to his palace.

Nursingurh is one of the capital towns of Omutwarra. The Omut Rajpoots,
natives of Meywar, formerly followed the trade of camel-drivers, and, emigrating
from Meywar in the fifteenth century, established themselves in Malwa. It was
only towards the period of the decline of the Mogul power that two of their
chiefs made themselves independent and divided the country between them; the
first, Mohun Sing, establishing himself at Rajgurh; the second, Purseram, at
Nursingurh. The Omuts, till recently, held q very inferior rank among the
Rajpoot tribes; but one of their rajahs having obtained the hand of a princess of
Oudeypoor, the alliance ennobled them, and they are now considered as belonging
to the higher caste.

November 6th—Our recent fatigues and disappointments entitling us to at
least. one day’s rest, we passed to-day on the banks of the lake of Nursingurh,
under the shade of the great trees. The weather is deliciously cool; we .are
entering upon that mild Indian winter which is without doubt the finest spring
that reigns in any quarter of the globe.

During the day one of our elephants afforded us the occasion for an exciting
chase. His mahout having taken him down to bathe in the lake, the intelligent
animal profited by the opportunity to get loose, and, after ridding himself of his
driver, indulged himself in the wildest gambols, plunging and executing tumbles
worthy of a porpoise; but, when it was time for him to return to land, the animal
turned a deaf ear to all exhortations, and the men were obliged to get boats, and
go in pursuit of him. It was only after an hour’s chase that they succeeded in
driving him back towards the bank, where he landed at last. Instantly the
mahout’s son, a boy of eight, came from behind a tree where he was hidden, and
seized the elephant by the tail. Feeling himself caught, the enormous beast
remained motionless, and patiently awaited the arrival of his mahout, who brought
him back to our camp, after administering to him the merited correction.

November 7th.—We left the inhospitable valley in the course of the morning,

our road lying across the mountains which overlook it towards the north; and our
2H
482 INDIA.

horses climbed the rocks like goats, dragging after them our carriage, which every
moment threatened to be smashed to pieces.

The plain only gave us crevices and quagmires in exchange for the rocks;
but we could already sight Bioura in the distance, where we consoled ourselves
that we should find the English roads again, and be at the end of our troubles.
But that was not to be yet; for at the moment a sinister noise was heard;
our axletree had just broken; and lo! we had foundered in view of the harbour.
Taking out the horses, and mounting astride them, we reached Bioura in pitiable
plight.

Luckily for us, Bioura was a little town where civilisation is represented by a
post and telegraph office, the director of which, a baboo of Bengal, seeing us pass
by on our harnessed horses, hastened to offer us his services. All we asked of him
was a wheelwright and a bungalow. He promised us the one, and pointed out to
us the other, near which we found our suite already installed.

November gth.—Our carriage having been more or less well repaired during
the course of yesterday, we started afresh on our journey, and this time saw a, fine
road winding on before us, which, coming southwards from Bombay, goes on
northwards towards Agra. It was the south-west branch of the famous Grand
Trunk Road, which places Calcutta in communication with the different presidencies;
and I may now therefore congratulate myself on my obstinacy, for we shall roll
along to Gwalior like real pachas.

Having set out at eight o’clock, we travelled for ten miles over a slightly
undulated country dotted with villages and cultivation, and halted to take
breakfast at a small bungalow, picturesquely situated on the banks of the
Goraperchar. The English were engaged in building a very fine bridge over this
pretty river, which though of inconsiderable width, and at the present moment
dwindled to the size of a poor stream, rises during the rainy season to a breadth
of ninety feet, and interrupts all communication.

Our servants having preceded us in the morning, we found breakfast ready
prepared at the bungalow; and, after the repast, our suite set out again on their
march, while, to give them time to reach the evening stage before us, we passed
the afternoon taking our siesta and in hunting the wild ducks of the Goraperchar. .
At four o'clock we got into our carriage, and crosssed the river at the ford. A
few miles farther on, the road wound among beautiful hills, behind which we
came again upon fine cultivated plains, studded with clusters of fruit trees, and
broken by little wooded eminences of a most picturesque appearance; and near
the village of Binagaum we perceived our camp installed round a little bungalow,
situate on the summit of a little mount. On alighting we found our dinner ready
served ; which drew from Schaumburg, on taking his place at the table, the observa-
tion that this was the real way to travel.

November 1oth.—After Binagaum, we passed through a wooded and hilly
country, halting to take breakfast, as yesterday, in a bungalow which stands on
the banks of the Parbutti. This river, the same we crossed some days ago, is
wide and deep at this point, but a ferry-boat which connects the two banks
allowed us to pass without obstacle. In the evening we encamped at the bunga-
low of Hawan, near the village of that name; at the distance of a few miles from
which stands a high rock, crowned by the ramparts and ruined palaces of Ragoo-
ghur, the ancient capital of the Rajpoot kings of Kytchwara, celebrated for its
GOONAH AND SIPRI. 483

heroic resistance to Dowlut Rao Scindia. Kytchwara, which comprises all the
surrounding districts, forms part of the kingdom of Scindia.

November 11th.—From Hawan to Rhotéah we had a march of twenty miles,
broken, as on the preceding days, by #halt at a bungalow situated half-way on
the road, and which happens, strangely enough, to lie as before on the banks of a
river, the Chowpett, which we afterwards had to cross.

November 12th.—-We left Rhotéah early in the morning, with sharp cold.
The country, which had not ceased rising since we left Bioura, became more and
more wild and hilly. Dense jungles, covering hills which each moment became
higher and more jagged, succeeded to the cultivated lands. The road wound at
the bottom of ravines, climbing and descending extremely steep declivities, which
our horses had more reason to complain of than ourselves, for during the whole
time we looked down upon a lovely panorama of wooded defiles, peaks, and
rounded heights losing themselves in the already distant plains of Kytchwara.
While crossing one of these passes, we had an unpleasant encounter. A magni-
ficent royal tiger, doubtless roused from his slumbers by the noise of our wheels,
rushed across our path within a few yards of our horses, who, at this apparition,
set off in a wild and perilous gallop, which we succeeded in stopping with much
difficulty. These forests are, in fact, overrun with wild animals of every descrip-
tion, chiefly tigers, who have by degrees driven away the few inhabitants.

On issuing from the mountains, we entered upon a fine, well-cultivated plain ;
in the midst of which, surrounded. by gardens, lies Goonah, a small but important
town, headquarters of one of the soubahs of Scindia, and the station of an English
regiment.

November 13th.—Ten miles from Goonah, we stopped at the bungalow of
Bahdowra, situated at the foot of a picturesque fortlet, the residence of a Rajpoot
Thakour, a tributary of Scindia. On the other side of the hill lies the town,
which is of mean appearance, and surrounded by very dilapidated walls.

The Thakour, having heard from one of the soldiers of our escort that we had
been the guests of the Maharana of Oudeypoor, came to present his respects to us
‘at the bungalow. He was an amiable old man, full of intelligence, and acquainted
with all the historical legends of the province.

The same evening we continued our journey as far as the bungalow of Hatel-
pore, which we found occupied by the officers of the 26th regiment of infantry,
on their road to Abyssinia to carry on the war against Theodore ; and these gentle-
men, informed by our servants of our position, invited us to dine with them, and
made us pass an evening as delightful as it was unexpected.

November 15th—Yesterday and to-day have been taken up in crossing
monotonous plains, to reach Sipri, the chief town of a soubah of Scindia, and one
of great antiquity, surrounded (as by a belt) with magnificent ruins of a fine style,
denoting its ancient splendour. I could no longer retain the escort provided for
me by the Begum without taking undue advantage of her courtesy. We were
now a long way from Bhopal, and only sixty-five miles from Gwalior. 1 began,
therefore, to cast about for some other local means of conveyance for continuing
my journey; and, although the only resources which Sipri could offer were: a
chopaya for myself and my servants, and a cart for my baggage, I resolved on
seriding back the Bhopalese escort next day. It was not without hesitation,
however, that I made this decision. The reader may remember my unhappy
experience of that instrument of torture called a chopaya; and I feared the violent
484 INDIA.

contrast that would ensue upon leaving our comfortable caléche. However, we
should have to face the difficulty at last; and the traveller in India should be
philosophical enough to get used to.these sudden changes of fortune. This
evening, therefore, I took leave of my good companions from Bhopal, of whom I
can speak only in praise since my departure thence.

November 16th.—When our chopaya arrived before the bungalow, absolutely
the vehicle did not look amiss ; and with its body painted sky blue and ornamented
with flowers and grotesque divinities, and its little sculptured columns, it would
not be out of place in a museum. Its team of large white oxen, harnessed with
red cloths, also gave it a vague resemblance to the chariot which, according to the
legend, carried our rois fainéants over the streets of Paris; but let me confess
that, quite insensible to all its picturesque exterior, we busied ourselves principally
in arranging the interior, and padding it comfortably. The body of the carriage
eight feet in length, and about five in width, was figuratively divided into two
parts, the hinder section, stuffed with mattresses and cushions, forming a vast bed,
on which we should be able to sleep comfortably enough. This was the bedroom ;
while the fore part, in which were placed a table firmly strapped, our guns and
instruments, and two straw easy-chairs, with a sea-lantern hanging from the roof,
formed the sitting-room.

These preparations occupied the whole of the day; and, as we intended
travelling night and day without stopping, we got into our chopaya at nightfall
and left Sipri.

November 17th.—The night has been comfortable in spite of the jolting; and,
roused by the first streaks of dawn, I left my ambulating bed-chamber. Our
oxen at that moment were slowly mounting a difficult ascent which winds over
low hills covered with jungle; and on all sides echoed the merry calls of the
partridges, who, planted in the middle of the road, seemed to care but little about
our approach. JI brought down some of the too-confiding birds, as well as a
species of large bustard, which I surprised quietly nibbling the grass in a hollow;
and this game provided us with our breakfast, which we stopped to prepare and
eat in the little deserted bungalow of Garaghit, situated in the midst of a scenery
as naked and desolate as could possibly be imagined. During the short halt, our
oxen ate their provender of millet straw, after which we continued our journey.

If it were not for the slowness with which we progress, this mode of travel-
ling would not be without its charm. The oxen go on their slow pace of about
two miles an hour, and the shouts and imprecations of our driver have no effect
in making them alter it, Still, when we have to descend a hill, the animals,
propelled by the heavy vehicle, take to a gallop, and the machine slides down
with a rapidity all the more disquieting as the bottom of the road is always
broken by some little torrent which runs bubbling under a slight foot-bridge.
During this time we follow the carriage on foot, with pipes between our teeth,
and guns on our shoulders,

The weather was cool and dry, and the exercise far from being disagreeable,
as we amused ourselves from time to time by pursuing an antelope or some
curious bird. Another amusement consisted in counting the milestones we passed,
and calculating the rapidity or rather the slowness of our journey.

Towards evening the landscape resumed a certain beauty; the variations
of the ground began to get accentuated ; and we soon entered upon some very,
pretty mountains, crossed by the river Chota Parbatti, a small tributary of the
THE MAIL-CART. 485

Sindh Boundéla; which near the bungalow of Mohana, where we halted to dine,
plunges over the rocks, forming two or three fine cascades.
At the dik bungalow, we met with civilisation again in the form of a good

bed and a tolerable cuisine; and these appreciable advantages induced us to give
°

THE MAIL-CART.

 

ear to the advice of the khansamah of the place, who, hearing our complaints,
persuaded us to let our servants continue their journey with the chopaya and the
baggage, and to travel ourselves by the mail, which would pass the next ae
thus permitting us to have a good night's rest in bed, and reach Gwalior in = ew
hours. The post-office agent, who resides near the bungalow, leading us to believe
486 INDIA.

that we should be able to get places in the vehicle, I accepted the proposal of the
khansamah, and we remained at Mohana.

November 18th.— Here is the post, gentlemen!” cried out the peon, early
in the morning; and scarcely were we out of our rooms when we saw a curious-
looking team of four horses down the road, galloping at full speed, and drawing
behind them a light box painted red, perched on two immense wheels, and
executing the most fantastic springs, as though a spirit of emulation possessed it
to rise over the horses’ heads. In a twinkling the cart was before us, the horses
taken out, and fresh ones brought and put to. “Quick, gentlemen!” exclaimed
the courier, a tall, meagre, bony Indian, wrapped in an old red cloth tunic, which
left his long, thin naked legs exposed. I mounted beside him, and Schaumburg
sat behind on the other half of the box. “ Hold tight!” was the policy. I clung
to the sides, and we were off, tearing along at full speed, hurried away by the
furious gallop of our horses, who seemed to have run wild. The cart sprang; it
leaped ; it seemed to me every moment that I was going to fly into the air. I
wanted to speak, but it was impossible to open my mouth. The Indian, impassible,
and almost upright on his seat, showered his whip about the horses. Ascents,
descents, narrow bridges, all were passed in this giddying and tumultuous gallop.
I could scarcely even glance at the country; piles of bare grey rocks, where
neither a tree nor a house was to be seen.

At last we reached a relay, and I profited by this moment of respite to ask
if he intended going on always at the same pace. “Burra Sahib ka hookum!”
he replied; “it is the order.” My question was certainly absurd, for the post
cannot go slowly: but in India it travels more than rapidly; it goes at a mad
pace. Every day horses and couriers break down, but what of that? The letters
must arrive; another courier picks up the despatches, and continues the journey.

Off we went again, passing several relays in the same manner. I felt I could
not endure the torture much longer; the shocks and the joltings were so violent
that I could not hold my pipe in my mouth. At one of the descents we were
galloping down at furious speed, we perceived some carriages before us obstructing
the road. The courier contented himself with blowing twice on his trumpet;
and the carriages had barely moved out of the way before we went by, grazing
them as we passed. I recognised our chopaya. “Stop!” I said to the courier, “I °
will get down ;” but he answered that “the post only stops at the relays.” How
much did I then regret the snug chopaya, padded with comfortable mattresses,
and the slow pace of our oxen! It was indeed a case in which we may say we
had shifted from Charybdis to Scylla.

At the next relay they announced that we were only six miles distant
from Gwalior, which is hidden by the hills seen towards the north. I acquired
patience from the information; and soon, in fact, from the top of a declivity
we suddenly came in sight of the pretty Lushkar lying at the bottom of the
valley, with its glittering palaces, green gardens, and ancient fortress proudly
crowning the rock. It was ten months since we had left it, and it seemed like
meeting an old friend.

At last our sufferings terminated. Our horses were brought to before the
travellers’ bungalow ; and we got down bruised, worn out, and bent double, and
vowed that we should never again be caught tearing along Indian roads on a
mail-cart.
CHAPTER XLVIII.
GWALIOR.

The Camp at the foot of the Fort,--Morar,—The Fooll Bagh.—Durbar of Scindia.—Marriage
of the King’s Daughter.—A Glance Backwards.—The Dak-ghari.—Agra,

FT may be remembered that in the month of January we had
rare merely passed through Gwalior, devoting a few days only
yeep , to the exploration of its celebrated fortress; but as this visit
was to be the last, I resolved to prolong it sufficiently to be
able again to examine carefully all its magnificent monuments,
a=: and to study a little more closely the court cf Scindia, which

I had barely glanced at.

In order to pursue my studies quite freely, the day after our arrival I left the
dak bungalow, and came and established my camp on the banks of the Sawunrika,
which winds through the old city, passing along the eastern side of the rock on
which the fortress stands. It would have been difficult to find a grander or more
picturesque spot. In front of our tent, and separated from us by the deep bed of
the river, lay the city, with its two large minarets, its ancient edifices, and its
gardens surrounding the base of the rock—a superb pedestal 300 feet in height,
crowned with temples and palaces; while in our rear extended a fertile plain,
slightly undulated, and crossed in every direction by long lines of trees.

I shall not speak again of the wonders of the citadel, having already condensed
the result of my previous labours at Gwalior. A few days after our arrival, I paid
a visit to the English Resident at Morar, who had succeeded Major Hutchinson
since the month of January. This officer, who received us with the same kindness
as his predecessor, informed me that the Maharajah was then at Agra, but that he
would present us to him on his return, for I was anxious to thank the prince for
‘the service he had rendered us in supplying an escort as far as Punnah.

Meanwhile Colonel Meade, the Governor-General’s Agent for Central India,
arrived at Morar. It will doubtless be remembered that it was to this distin-
guished English officer that we owed the kind reception which had greeted us
throughout our journey. Circumstances had prevented me hitherto from making
his acquaintance; I hastened therefore to profit by this opportunity to express
my sincere gratitude to him.

His arrival in the little colony, of Morar was the signal for fétes, to which we
were kindly invited; and, as our camp at the foot of the fortress was becoming
somewhat uncomfortable from the tolerably sharp cold at nights, his Highness’s
vukeel placed the little palace of Fooll Bagh at our disposal; a charming residence

 

 
488 INDIA.

buried in the midst of orange-trees, where we immediately installed ourselves. In
its vicinity stood a very fine monument which had escaped me at the time of our
first visit, an elegant mausoleum of the Mogul period, covering the ashes of the
sage Mohammed Ghose, one of the favourite counsellors of the Emperor Akbar ;
and close at hand also was a rather fine ruined mosque, the courtyard of which
was crowded with curious tombs ; one of these containing the remains of a celebrated
singer, Tan-Sein, and being shaded by a nim, the leaves of which, according to
popular belief, have the property of giving voice.

 

THE MAUSOLEUM OF MOHAMMED GHOSE, GWALIOR.

The state dinners, the balls and fétes of every description, given at Morar by
the European society were things we had long been deprived of; so that it was
with some difficulty that I succeeded in finding my dress-coat, much creased and
faded, at the bottom of one of my trunks, which all the skill of a native tailor
could scarcely make presentable. Moreover, my felt helmet contrasted awkwardly
with this dress—the eminently distinctive emblem of civilisation. Still these
small details did not prevent us from participating in all the fétes, nor even from
forgetting that time was passing and we were still in Gwalior.
A ROYAL MARRIAGE. “489

We had at last, however, made up our minds to start, when, on the 6th
December, his Highness returned to Gwalior, and we were presented to him the
next day by Colonel Daly.

Accordingly, in the afternoon of the 16th we mounted an elephant, and
proceeded to the old palace. The str€ets were thronged with a noisy crowd in
holiday attire, come to share in the largesses that were to be distributed at the
ceremony of the marriage of the Maharajah’s daughter ; and in their midst might
be seen, passing and repassing, the gala rutts, covered with bright draperies, and
drawn by fine white oxen with gilded horns ; numberless elephants sounding their
great bronze bells ; and cavalcades of. nables and high functionaries.

From the level of the great terrace of the palace, where all the ladies and
the officers of the camp of Morar, including Colonel Meade and the other repre-
sentatives of the English Government, were assembled, we enjoyed a most
picturesque spectacle. The horsemen of the Huzrut Paga—the royal guard—
were drawn up in line, and restrained the crowds who pressed towards the palace
courtyard to witness the passage of the high dignitaries. These last arrived
dressed in their richest apparel; the nobles and officers on horseback, covered
with diamonds, rich armour, and valuable fabrics, caracoling on their plumed and
harnessed coursers, and surrounded by their squires and men-at-arms; and the
ministers and officers of state, heavy and corpulent, dressed in white muslin, and
turbaned with red, seated in splendid palanquins, wherein they reclined with all
the ease and dignity becoming such eminent personages.

The Brahmins had decided that the religious ceremony was not to commence
until the sun had reached to within three fingers’ breadth distance from the
summit of the mountains bounding the horizon to the west; and a little before
this solemn moment arrived the bridegroom’s cortége appeared on the square in
the midst of the acclamations of the multitude. The young man, a prince of the
royal house of Scindia, was seated, blazing with gold and precious stones, in a
houdah of the shape of a temple with gilded domes and pillars, borne by an
elephant of gigantic size, also covered with a dazzling profusion of valuable
fabrics, plumes, and ornaments of precious metals; and a noble, mounted on the
croup of the elephant, waved a hand-screen of peacocks’ feathers, issuing from a
golden handle incrusted with precious stones, above the young prince’s head.
Behind this group, worthy of the fairy-like descriptions of the “ Arabian Nights,”
came the elephants carrying the Brahmins, chanting the sacred hymns with hands
raised towards heaven. Then followed the servants, bearing on their shoulders
large gilded wooden cases surmounted by bouquets of artificial flowers, containing,
or supposed to contain, the inestimable treasures composing the young princess’s
wedding gifts.

And now, one of the vukeels of the palace coming to solicit our attendance
at, the celebration of the religious ceremony, we descended into one of the inner
courts, which was covered over by a vast tent and filled by a close crowd of
Brahmins, naked to the waist, and displaying on their broad, large abdomens the
sacred triple cord. All these priests shouted like madmen, and only paused at
intervals to fling into the midst of the hall where the bridal couple were seated a
regular hailstorm of grains of wheat, millet, and rice. This style of benediction
is not without its originality and its mystic meaning; the bread, represented by
the grains of wheat, being as indispensable to man as the water employed in our
490 INDIA.

religious ceremonies. By freely elbowing the crowd, we managed to clear a way
through it, and to reach the king, who was standing in a corner of the courtyard,
looking less gloomy and careworn than at our last interview.

There was a moment’s pause; and an old Brahmin recited in a nasal voice
the verses of the Shastras relating to marriage; whereupon all the spectators
uttered a great shout, applauding loudly, and the marriage was concluded.

We were then conducted towards the young couple, whom the crowd had
prevented us from seeing before. They were both seated on an Indian throne of
red velvet. The prince, about sixteen years of age, glittered with diamonds, and
wore above his turban a sort of diadem in gold; and as for the princess, a child
of ten, she was so completely enveloped in stuffs of cloth of gold, her head,
nose, and ears bore such a profusion of jewels, that it was scarcely possible to
distinguish her delicate little brown face and large, timid, black eyes.

After making our salaams to the young couple, we returned to the terrace,
where a sumptuous collation was prepared for us, served up in one of the kiosks;
and we subsequently witnessed a nautch, which was followed by grand fireworks.
Then the first minister distributed the pin and rosewater to us in person, placed
thick chains of jessamine and roses round our necks; and we returned each to
our respective dwellings.

Two days after this ceremony, we went for a battue in the mountains round
about Gwalior with General C and some officers. ‘The chief object of this
excursion was to kill some panthers which had for some time past signalised
themselves by their depredations. We succeeded, it is true, in despatching two
of these terrible animals, and that only after a combat which might have been
fatal to one of us; but the principal result of our hunting expedition was a
considerable number of jungle fowl, pahartecter, and some very fine antelopes.

Returned to Gwalior, we were at last about to start on our journey; but
Christmas-day—the day so dear to the English—was approaching; and they
used this as an inducement to detain us. It would be so pleasant, they said, to
assemble once more, after so many years, at this family festival round a good
table, at which the Homeric plum-pudding would appear decked with a branch
of real misletoe sent direct from England for the occasion. We allowed ourselves
to be tempted by these dazzling visions, and remained; with the inward resolve,”
however, to start without fail on the 27th. If my readers should feel surprised
at our inactivity, I must beg them to recollect that at the very beginning of this
narrative I said to them, “I am not one of those travellers who gallop through a
country as though urged onwards by some mysterious spur; who, always hurried,
see nothing, and who, when arrived at their journey’s end, themselves wonder
what could have been the cause of their haste. If three years are not sufficient
for me to visit India, I will devote four or even five years to it; but at least I
shall have seen something.” our years have in fact passed, and I am not yet
at the end of my task; but the most difficult part is accomplished. If the reader
will refer to the map of Central India he will see that, having started from
Gwalior and returned to the same spot, I have, during the last year, traced out a
complete circle, which has carried us through regions which no traveller had
described before me. Thus we have passed over in succession the whole of the
Deccan, Goojerat, Rajpootana, and finally Central India, properly so called; and
we now have remaining before us all the vast northern region, which, enclosed

 
THE DAK-GHARI. * gor
between the superb slopes of the Himalayas and the first spurs of the Vindhyas,
forms that magnificent valley of the Ganges, Hindostan, or the land of the
Hindoos, the cradle of the most ancient civilisation of the world, and even at the
present day the most densely populated and the most thoroughly cultivated part
of the globe. ®

But here we shall be able to abandon the camel and the elephant for the’
locomotive, and, in the capacity of tourists, to complete a journey which until
now has offered us all the difficulties and all the attractions of an exploring
expedition.

Civilisation, however, in the form of the railway, has not yet reached Gwalior.
This we should find at Agra; and as we had already passed over part of this
road, which is not very picturesque, I was anxious to get over the interval as

 

THE DAK-GHARI.

quickly as possible. Of course there could be no question now of a chopaya,
even with camels, or of a mail-cart. I still had too vivid a recollection of my
first experience of these improved means of transport. It remained for us to
make trial of the dik-ghari, a sort of post-chaise very popular in Hindostan, It
is a sort of square coach, drawn by two thin hacks, which the post has to renew
every six miles. One person can instal himself in it pretty comfortably, and
two may even sleep in it commodiously. The dak-ghari, therefore, I adopted,
and hired two carts for our servants and baggage. ?

After taking leave of all our pleasant hosts at Morar, we started from our
palace of Fooll Bagh at ten o’clock in the morning of the 27th December, and at
the outset were convinced that our horses, which were guaranteed by the post to
do ten miles an hour, could accomplish only five or six at the utmost. The day
passed monotonously along the bare and desolate road, shaded only by very
492 INDIA.

slender telegraph-posts ; yet, when I saw Norabad and its ancient bridge, Chaneda,
our encampment of last January, and, finally, the superb Chumbul, which we
crossed by a bridge of boats, during a magnificent sunset, I regarded them as old
acquaintances. There is, perhaps, as great a charm for the traveller in revisiting
places he has once passed through, and which so are surrounded by a thousand
souvenirs, as in exploring unknown horizons.

We put up for the night at the bungalow of Dholepore. I immediately sent
our salaams to the Maharajah, and received in return a visit from our good friend
the dewan Gungadhar Rao, who was deputed by the prince to invite us to spend
a few days at Dholepore. Of course I did not comply with this very kind invita-
tion, which proved at least that our first stay had left no unpleasing memories ;
and, after a good night’s rest, we started again in our coach, at six o’clock in the
morning. /

After halting for breakfast at Mannia, we continued our journey across these
monotonous plains, enlivened by scarcely a single tree. At last, about midday, we
saw an ivory globe shining like a star appear on the horizon, which we saluted
as the cupola of the Taj, from which, according to our driver, we were still eight
miles distant ; and within an hour we were galloping through the streets of Agra,
where we pulled up at the bungalow of our good friends the G——, who were
all assembled in the verandah to welcome us.
CHAPTER XLIX.
FROM AGRA TO DELHI.

The T4j.—On the Banks of the Jumna.—Secundra.—The Tomb of Akbar.—Muttra.—The Legend
of Krishna.—The Upper Doab.—Aligurh.

ae Y first concern on arriving at Agra was to pay a visit to the
‘aj. I think I was this time even more impressed than before
by the imposing grandeur of the wonderful monument; and, as
- several matters of business detained me in the town for a week,
: I resolved to come and stay at the Taj. The English have

arranged a series of apartments in one of the annexed parts of
the mausoleum, which are placed at the service of travellers on their application
being sent in to the commissioner of the province. In the course of the day, on the
31st December, we entered our new habitation; and, when the gates of the
garden were closed to the public at four o’clock, we were the sole proprietors of
this fairy-like corner of the universe.

After having been accustomed for years past to tread the marble floors of the
Indian palaces, I experienced a strange sensation on finding myself alone in the
midst of this accumulation of treasures. It seemed as though our presence
here was a profanation. What would that proud Empress of India, the great
Mumtazee-Mahal, have said if she could have risen from beneath the tomb whose
incomparable magnificence had been ordained with her last breath, and have seen
the very terrace of the mausoleum occupied by two curiously attired men, speaking
in a strange tongue, seated in long rocking-chairs, and drinking from large glasses
the liquor abhorred by the prophet ?

‘he two men were Schaumburg and myself; night had fallen, and we had
come to seat ourselves on the edge of the terrace overlooking the Jumna; and the
two glasses, the sight of which would have shocked poor Mumtazee, had been
filled in honour of that moment which no traveller can witness the approach of
without emotion—the close of one year and the beginning of another. When
once he has become inured to a wandering and adventurous life, it is this day
alone of all the year which conjures up before him the picture of his distant
home, his family and country, and the dear friends from whom so many wide
horizons separate him. But how strong and how vivid the picture appears! How
the old memories come crowding one upon another! How the heart sinks, and
the courage begins to fail! Tears force their way to the eyes and roll down in
silent streams. It is the traveller’s offering to his native land, and to all the dear

absent ones.

  
494 INDIA.

I shall always remember these last hours of the year 1867, and the first
hours of 1868. Schaumburg and I had remained seated on the terrace absorbed
in a silent reverie, from which we were roused only for an instant at midnight by
the arrival of our servants bringing us an enormous bouquet, with their good
wishes. At our feet rolled the silver waters of the Jumna, in the broad still
surface of which the sky mirrored its thousands of glittering stars; and behind
us, beside us, above us, towered the Taj, a mystic monument of love, displaying
its immaculate whiteness beneath the pale light of the radiant planets. Not a
sound disturbed our solitude, excepting when a slight breeze blowing across the
river bore to us at intervals the echoes of an English orchestra celebrating the
beginning of the new year at some mess-table, or the sad and monotonous sounds
of the brass cymbals of a small encampment of bayadéres lying on the banks,
We continued silent and thoughtful, half inebriated by the sublime spectacle and
by the perfume of the jessamine and the orange and the wilderness of flowers
which surrounded us. At last, at three o’clock in the morning, still silent, we
regained our rooms. But every one who has travelled widely and for a long
period, far from what we call civilised countries, knows as well as I do that the
true traveller, he who believes in and desires to accomplish a useful task, neither
can nor should give more than a few brief moments to feelings and reminiscences ;
and therefore, by the advent of morning, we had already shaken off our reveries,
and were discussing more eagerly than ever about the road we were going to take,
not in the direction of France, but still farther onwards towards the north of
India.

Our first destination was to be Delhi; and I decided that for our journey
thither we should not avail ourselves of the railway at least as far as Aligurh,
but follow the old road, which would enable us to visit Secundra again, and see
the holy Muttra and the places surrounding it, which have been rendered famous
by Krishna.

In the course of the morning, while walking among the ruins of palaces
which adorn the banks of the Jumna below the Taj, I witnessed a strange. and
touching scene. I was about to descend one of those ghats, or great’ stone
staircases which lead to the river, when a plaintive song, interrupted by sobs,
struck my ear. I approached softly, and, hiding myself completely behind a
tree, saw an old and poorly clad woman sobbing, with her: face hidden in her
hands, seated on the steps of red sandstone. At the foot of the staircase, on the
brink of the water, stood two young Hindoo girls, one of them naked to the
waist, standing upright with her arms raised to heaven, and singing in a strangely
plaintive tone one of those cradle songs with which Indian mothers lull their
infants to sleep. As she sang, she took flowers from a basket, and let the bright-
coloured leaves fall into the water. I could not make out the meaning of this
strange ceremony until, leaning forward, I perceived a sort of small wicker raft
floating on the water, on which lay the dead body of an infant. This explained
the spectacle. The poor mother, some nautchni, unable to pay the expenses of a
funeral pile to consume the remains of the poor little creature, had resolved to
confide them to the sacred waters of the Jumna; and she was there, accompanied
by her sister and mother, bidding her infant a last adieu. She was accom-
plishing no rite; her heart alone had inspired her with the idea of singing the
usual song once more to the poor little one; and, with a not less touching

*
FROM AGRA TO SECUNDRA. 495

inspiration, she was there throwing over the frail body leaves from those flowers
which were true emblems of its brief existence; while her sister, leaning over the
water, held the little raft, reluctant to abandon the tender prey to the monsters
of the stream. -

After a short interval devoted to the contemplation of this thrilling picture, I

withdrew without letting the poor women suspect that I had been a witness of
their grief.

 

GATE OF THE GARDEN OF SECUNDRA.

I passed a week at the Taj in the most delightful manner, sketching, making
photographs, and thoroughly imbuing my mind with all these beauties which I
was about to leave, perhaps for ever. On the 9th of January we left Agra, with
only two servants and some luggage, having sent on all our encumbrances to
Delhi by rail. A half-famished camel which I succeeded in ‘hiring, and two
horses, had to take us as far as Hatras, where we should get the railway.

An hour’s gallop over a splendid macadamised road, bordered by large trees,
and along which at wide intervals were ranged curious tombs, surmounted by
496 INDIA.

effigies of horses in red sandstone, took us to the village of Secundra. This spot,
insignificant with regard to its population, which certainly does not exceed a
hundred souls, is, nevertheless, venerated throughout all India, as well by Mussul-
mans as by Hindoos, as being the place where repose the remains of the Emperor
Abkar—the greatest Eastern monarch who ever held in his grasp the destinies of
the vast Indian empire.

His mausoleum, one of the wonders of India, stands in the centre of a large
and splendid garden, surrounded by a quadrangular enclosure formed by a high
battlemented wall; the principal entrance being in the southern front of the
enclosure. It is a magnificent monument, of a grand and severe style of archi-
tecture, that by itself merits a visit from the traveller. It opens under a massive
square pavilion, the facades of which, pierced by a lofty pointed arch, slightly
rounded, are ornamented with mosaics, or rather incrustations in coloured marble,
for the flowers and the arabesques which compose it are on a scale proportioned
to the whole of the monument; and the terrace of the pavilion is crowned by
light kiosks in red sandstone and four elegant white marble minarets. Passing
through this doorway, we found ourselves on a fine flagged passage, at the end of
which rose the astounding mass of the mausoleum. Three other roads, similar to
this, each joining the centre of one of the facades, divide the garden into four
equal parts.

The mausoleum itself is a strange edifice, which can be compared to nothing
which exists of the same class in any other part of India; being a sort of
pyramid, divided into four storeys of different heights, and resting on a square
raised basement, pierced on each of its sides by a large Moorish arch. The first
three storeys of the pyramid are masked by rows of kiosks of pink. sandstone, of
extreme elegance of design ; and the upper storey is surrounded by a wall of white
sculptured marble, supported by light chatris of the same material. The reader,
however, has only to glance at the engravings to comprehend this original
arrangement, the beauty and grand effect of which the pen alone is powerless to
describe.

A long, vaulted, dark, narrow passage leads from the principal entrance of the
mausoleum to the crypt, which contains the tomb, a plain marble sarcophagus,
without any ornament, scarcely visible in the pale light struggling through the
little openings in the dome. Here, under the stone, sleeping the eternal slumber,
lies Akbar, great grandson of Tamerlane, one of the mightiest intellects the world
has ever produced; the man under whose reign India, united in a single empire,
attained a degree of prosperity which has never been surpassed. This simple
tomb, however, is not destined to be profaned by the vulgar gaze. The official
sarcophagus, round which the multitude comes to pray, is in the open air, on the
very summit of the pyramid. It is a slab of white marble, a perfect gem of
carving, on which, in the midst of a network of arabesques, stand out in relief the
ninety-nine names which are used in the Mussulman religion for invoking the
Most High. From this last terrace we enjoyed an extensive view of all the
surrounding country—vast uniform plains, where the yellowish sand is seen at
wide intervals in the midst of a dark green vegetation, through which the Jumna
winds irregularly ; and to the south we espied the high walls of the fortress of
Agra appearing above the trees, overlooked by the airy domes of the Taj and the
Mosque of Pearls,

°
MAUSOLEUM OF AKBAR. * 497

The mausoleum of Secundra is the work of several reigns. Akbar himself
caused the pavilion of the entrance and the basement, to be constructed ; his son,
Jehanghir, imposed the storeys of red sandstone; and Shah Jehan added its marble

UPPER STOREY OF THE MAUSOLEUM OF AKBAR, SECUNDRA.

Wr
AT

onl

f

a

 

coronet to the edifice. And it is easy to recognise the characteristic style of the
different periods in each of these separate parts. One of my predecessors, twenty
years ago, said with reference to this mausoleum, ‘ ‘T had hitherto imagined that the

Aleoar of Seville and the Alhambra of Granada had afforded me the purest type
21
498 INDIA.

of the art which people agree in calling Saracenic ; but I was mistaken, for I find
that art represented here by nobler conceptions and infinitely more important
works. And from these specimens we may assert that a Saracenic school existed
which not only was not inferior, but which equalled the Greek and the Gothic
schools.”

Near Akbar’s mausoleum, beyond the enclosure, stands a vast ruined cenotaph,
enclosing the tomb of the emperor’s Christian wife, the Begum Marie; and we
installed ourselves during the few days required for its examination in a pretty
little bungalow which the English have raised in the middle of the garden.

On the 15th we took to our horses again, and, following a fine large road’
crowded with carts and pedestrians (no other, indeed, than the Grand. Trunk
Road, the principal artery the English have established through their possessions,
for uniting all the different branches of communication), we pushed onwards as
far as the village of Farah, where a native caravanserai—not very clean, be it
said—afforded us shelter for the night. The next morning we reached the
bungalow of Muttra in a few hours.

Muttra is one of the principal towns of Hindostan ; and, though it has greatly
declined from its ancient splendour, it has still a noble appearance, viewed from
the banks of the Jumna, along which it extends in the shape of a crescent, dis-
playing its lofty terraced houses and innumerable temples against the side of the
steep banks, the base of which seems to be covered with stone kiosks and broad
flichts of stairs descending to the water's edge.

From the remotest antiquity, certainly from twenty centuries before Christ,
Muttra has been a large and important city. It was here that in the fifteenth or
sixteenth century before our era the hero Krishna, the most popular divinity in
the Hindoo Pantheon at the present day, was born; and, under the name of
Mathurah, all the great Sanscrit poems describe his beauties and his glories to us.
But, without going back to the fabulous ages, we know that at the period of the
first Mussulman invasion, in the eleventh century, it could still boast of being one
of the wealthiest religious capitals in the world. When the conqueror Mahmoud
of Ghuzni took possession of it in 1017, he was amazed himself at the splendid
sight it presented. Writing to one of his generals, the fierce Mussulman gave a
curious description of the holy city, which history has preserved to us. :

“This wonderful city,’ he says, “contains more than a thousand edifices, the
greater part of which are in marble, as firmly fixed on their foundations as the
faith of the true believers ; and in this number I do not include the temples of the
infidels. If we calculate the money all these monuments must have cost, it would
be no exaggeration to estimate it at several millions of dinars; and it may be
added that such a city could scarcely be built in the space of two centuries. In
the pagan temples my soldiers found five golden idols, the eyes of which were
formed by rubies worth 50,000 dinars. Another idol had as an ornament a
sapphire weighing 400 niskals, and the image itself yielded, when melted, 98,300
niskals of pure gold. Besides these we found a hundred silver idols, representing
as many camel-loads.”

At the present day Muttra is one of the principal cities of the -English
province of Agra, and an important cantonment for troops; yet, notwithstanding
all its misfortunes, it has continued to retain in the eyes of the Hindoos the first
rank, after Benares, among the holy cities of India; and during the whole year
IMPERTINENT MONKEYS. 499

pilgrims flock to it by thousands from the most distant countries of the peninsula.
It is a spectacle to see the crowds, morning and evening, when the sun begins to
gild the fagades of the temples and palaces, thronging the ghats on their way to
immerse themselves in the sacred waters of the Jumna, the Yamouna of the
Sanscrit poets. Men and women up to their waists therein, their faces ecstatically
raised towards heaven, then accomplish the mystic rites of purification by which
both body and soul become cleansed from all their stains.

These crowds, notwithstanding their fanatic enthusiasm, are very tolerant.
Europeans and infidels of all sorts circulate in the midst of them with impunity,
witnessing and even criticising the religious ceremonies without any one seeming
to care about it. In scarcely any other place except India, and there amongst the
Hindoos only, have been found at all times the most absolute religious liberty
and tolerance united to the most unbounded fanaticism. This explains the
creation of so many different religions, which have always existed side by side in
an almost perfect harmony. If Buddhism alone was driven out by force, it was
because it alone was a religion of proselytism, desiring dominion over and the
destruction of other sects.

One of the things which most struck me as soon as I set foot in the crooked,
steep lanes of the city was the immense number of apes, which are seen on the
terraces of the houses, the awnings of the shops, and even in the midst of the
footpaths. These apes, of the Gibbon species, of a russet colour, with the breast
and hind parts of a carmine hue, made the most grotesque and. impertinent
‘grimaces at the sight of our European costumes; and they even carried their
insolence so far as to run after us as though they meant to attack our calves.
These malicious animals seemed to be conscious of their sacred character, and
showed no degree of fear at the threats I made them with my cane. I should
have taken good care, however, not to strike them, being too well aware of the
unhappy fate of two poor English officers some years ago, who, having wounded
one of these apes, were pursued by the populace and thrown into the river, where
they perished before help could reach them.

The principal bazaar seems to be the general rendezvous, not only of the apes,
but also of all the animals which Brahminic piety maintains in the city. Gibbons
with long hairy arms, langours with their black faces, and pigeons and paroquets
swarm on the awnings of the shops, leaping, flying, shrieking, and grimacing in
the midst of the crowd, and even going so far as to steal the fruits and seeds
which the shopkeeper lazily defends. Add to these whole herds of oxen, and
zebus, with their weighty humps of fat shaking on their backs, walking with a
slow, majestic step, gently putting aside with their horns the people who come
in their way, or lying down in picturesque groups across the middle of the
street, and you will have some idea of the strange picture which this bazaar
presents.

Everything at Muttra recalls the memory of its most distinguished son.
Nothing is to be seen on the temples but statues of Krishna under different
forms; the very walls of the houses are covered with rough and gaudy paintings
representing the exploits of the hero. Here he is seen, while yet a child, strangling
the python that ravaged the country; there, as the true Indian Hercules, he is
striking down monsters, or holds on his finger the mountain he one day rooted
from the earth to shelter himself from the rain. But the favourite scene, which is
500 INDIA.

found depicted at every step, is that which represents him, when a poor young
shepherd, making the young peasant g¢ cirls of the Pradja dance beneath a tree to
the sound of his “flute.

Among the numerous divinities which fill the Hindoo Pantheon, Krishna is
certainly the most interesting, not only from the veneration of which he is the
object to the present day, but because he has the advantage, shared with him by
Rama, that it is possible to trace in him an origin founded on historical tradition.
Everything proves that he was one of those adventurers, such as all primitive
times have produced, whose chivalrous and amorous exploits soon became the
theme of popular legend. According to this legend, which, strangely enough, the
Brahmins have not succeeded in disfiguring completely, Krishna belonged to a
tribe of Yadavas, wandering shepherds, living in tents, and selling the produce of
their flocks at the different villages. These Yadavas, as their name and their
mode of living indicate, were Yats; and it is curious to note that this god, at the
present day an eminent Brahmin divinity, belongs by his origin to a race which
could have no pretensions to the name of Aryans.

At the period of the birth of Krishna, the Yadavas were encamped near
Muttra, and seem to have kept up friendly communication at that time with the
heads of the city. The young hero passed his infancy hereabouts, performing
many wonderful exploits. He had reached the age of adolescence when the
people of Muttra revolted against their king. Krishna led the movement; killed
with his own hand the tyrant who had usurped the throne, and installed the
rightful sovereign in his stead. Some years later, the father-in-law of the usurper
marched against Muttra with a formidable army; when Krishna, not thinking
himself powerful enough to resist this attack, assembled the Yadavas, and, crossing
Rajpootana, established himself in Goojerat, where he founded the city of Dwarka,
on the western coast of the peninsula.

It appears that the kingdom enjoyed the greatest prosperity for several
years, until, on the occasion of a festival, a dispute arose among the chiefs,
which soon degenerated into a bloody conflict; and during the battle a violent
earthquake swelled the waves of the sea, which swallowed up both the city and
the combatants.

At a time when the prejudices imposed by an aristocracy jealous of its”
privileges kept men inexorably in the social condition occupied by their ancestors,
the extraordinary fortune of Krishna, rising from the humble condition of a
shepherd to the rank of a king, was likely to create a deep impression among the
lower classes of the people; who had the greater reason to applaud this victory,
and to preserve its tradition, as the hero did not belong to the race of the
conquerors, but was a child of the conquered race, of those wandering Turanian
tribes which the Aryans had supplanted.

His memory was from the first, as it is at the present day, carefully treasured,
especially by the women, fascinated by the rather coarse gallantry of the young
hero, which was ever the mainspring of his exploits. It was thus that the
simplest incidents of his existence became indelibly fixed in tradition ; how, as a
child, he had stolen a jar of butter from his mother, and been whipped as a
punishment; how, as a youth, he used to carry off the clothes of the young milk-
women as they were bathing in the Jumna; how, as a young man, he succeeded
in charming the hearts of these same young milkwomen by his soft speeches, by
a

LEGEND OF KRISHNA. 501

his talent on the flute, and by the elegance of his movements while dancing under
the shade of the nims. Krishna was, in fact, the most perfect type of the brave
but somewhat boastful adventurer, poet, and romancist when the mood was on
him, ready to rush rather to an amorqys rendezvous than to a combat, which the
populace of all ages has loved to immortalise. Moreover, in the present instance
the hero, after his coup de main at Muttra, dies obscurely as he had lived, not in
some epic combat, but in a drunken brawl, in which the elements by chance
intervened to add a touch of grandeur.

By what revolution did the name of this vulgar hero, of somewhat loose
morals, succeed in dethroning that of the austere Vedic divinities, and becoming
an object of worship to all the people of the north of India? It is to elucidate
as far as possible this important question, which cannot fail to interest my readers,
that I have just rapidly sketched the origin of this popular deity.

Towards the close of the death-struggle, which lasted during the first eight
centuries of our era, between Buddhism and Brahminism, the Brahmins, in order
to win over the masses to their cause, resolved on revivifying their worship, the
abstract notions of which were no longer understood, by converting the popular
heroes into avatars——incarnations of the ancient Vedic divinities.

If we reflect that the very centre of this struggle between the two religions
was this part of the valley of the Ganges rendered famous by this joyous child of
Muttra, it will be understood that the Brahmins could find no embodiment better
adapted to their new principles than Krislina, and that it was not difficult for
them to make the multitudes believe that this man, the thorough personification
of the instincts, failings, and qualities of the lower classes, was no other than an
incarnation of the supreme and invisible Being, the eternal Vishnu. But, what
is far more strange, it is proved at the present day that the Buddhists on their
part endeavoured to attach Krishna to their religious belief by making him a
Buddha, under the name of Juggernaut, or Lord of the World.

The process employed by the Brahmins to transform the hero completely into
a divinity requires that a few words should be devoted to it, the more so as,
among the innumerable myths which innovators grafted on popular tradition, it is
impossible not to recognise many details borrowed from Christianity.

It is thus that the birth of Krishna, so simply related in the legend, was
surrounded with mystery; evidently it was thus the son of a shepherd became
the child of a princess of royal blood; and that the Rajah Kansa, who was
destined to be dethroned by the hero, was made to play the part of Herod,
renewing the massacre of the innocents, in order to rid himself of his future
rival, who had been revealed to him by a prediction. His slightest acts are
similarly distorted and explained. Thus Krishna, in stealing the garments of the
bathing-girls, only intended to make them sensible of their immodesty ; but, in
spite of this, there are some favourite passages of the legend which even the
Brahmins themselves have been unable to convert into exploits, as where Krishna
and his comrades, having stolen a bundle of linen from a poor washerman, were
much embarrassed how to put on the rich costumes, of which they, being poor
peasants, did not know the use, and were obliged to send for a tailor to instruct
them, to whom Krishna, as a reward, granted the remission of his sins. It is
easy to understand, therefore, how the worship of Krishna, with all its license
and inconsistencies, might rapidly gain an influence over the minds of a people
502 INDIA.

crushed and condemned to a life of austerity, and under the dread of eternal
punishment with the Buddhist monks, who, grown overweeningly powerful, con-
cealed their own depravity and debaucheries in the recesses of the splendid viharas
of Hindostan.

At this new name of Krishna, all the oppressed and all the ambitious among
the masses arose ; and in a few years, as it were in an instant, the colossus called
Buddhism, which had seemed to be so solidly rooted in the soil, disappeared for
ever from India, and from the face of the land which had given it birth, nurtured
its crowth, and in its excessive toleration endured it for ten centuries after it had
become corrupted and turned oppressor.

After leaving Muttra, to which place we devoted four days, I had still two
other celebrated spots to visit in this land of Vradja, immortalised by Krishna,
viz., Goverdhun and Bindraban.

Goverdhun is a tolerably large market-town, situated fifteen miles west of
Muttra, on a little rocky eminence parallel with the chain of Mewat. The
surrounding country is flat and well cultivated.

It was at Goverdhun that Krishna passed part of his infancy ; it was here that,
when only eight years old, “he uprooted Mount Goverdhana, and, placing it on his
forefinger, held it spread out in the form of a parasol over his comrades and their
flocks, when they were overtaken by a violent storm.” Goverdhun is, therefore, a
venerated halting-place in the pilgrimage all good Krishnayas have to perform,
and the piety of the faithful has accumulated a considerable number of temples
on the spot. Besides this, the Yat kings of Bhurtpore, who consider themselves
as having sprung from the race of the deity, have made Goverdhun their con-
secrated place of burial, and each sovereign has erected here for himself a superb
cenotaph. Among the most important monuments is that of Souraj Mull, the
founder of the modern power of the YAts in the valley of the Jumna—an elegant
edifice of marble and yellow sandstone, in that fine modern style of which the
palace of Digh and the tomb of Buktawar, at Ulwur, are the most perfect types.
The cenotaph is picturesquely situated on the border of a pretty piece of water,
which is surrounded by numerous temples and chatris standing out in relief against
a screen of magnificent trees. «

On the other side of the town stands another edifice in the same style, the
mausoleum of the King Balder Sing, an elegant pavilion raised on a terrace
surrounded by chatris, between two fine pieces of water; of which one, though
sloping downwards from the other, is continually dry. According to the legend,
Krishna, after dancing with the milk-girls, came to quench his thirst at this pool ;
which, having been then emptied at a draught, has remained ever afterwards as
he left it.

From Goverdhun we proceeded towards Bindraban, which is situated about
fifteen miles to the north-east.

Bindraban occupies on the right bank of the Jumna an almost analogous posi-
tion to that of Muttra. It is an important town, and, like Muttra, a great object
of pilgrimages. The population is almost exclusively composed of Brahmins ;
the temples are almost more numerous than the dwelling-houses of the people ;
and the rajahs of the north-west of India here maintain sumptuous palaces, which
they come and inhabit during the annual fétes in honour of Krishna. Many
of these palaces and temples are ancient, but the greater number have undergone
THE DOAB. 503

repairs which have completely disfigured them. There is still, however, a very
curious edifice of the ninth century to be admired, built on the plan of a Latin
cross, with a lofty nave, and decorated with numerous idols.

Here, too, memorials of Krishna, abound. Devotees plunge themselves in the
water on the very spot where the god killed the terrible python, Kalya Naya,
which infected the sacred stream, and ravaged the land of Vradja, and which we
may doubtless recognise as a personification of one of those Aryan barons, who,
commanding from their fortresses the course of the river, levied a tax on the
navigators, or organised thence their predatory expeditions against the villagers.
Outside the town they also worship a venerable nim, under which the hero made
the young peasant girls dance to the sound of his flute. According to the Brah-
min legends, Bindraban was also one of the favourite resorts of the god Rama.
who came there accompanied by his faithful Hunouman, the ape-god, to pass the
fine summer days; and, in honour of this circumstance, the Brahmins keep such
an immense number of apes in the town that they really form the majority of the
population.

On the 23rd January we returned to Muttra, and left it the same day to
proceed towards Hatras, where we rejoined the Delhi railroad. For the first
time we crossed the Jumna, which forms the boundary between Rajasthan, or the
land of the Rajahs, and Hindostan, or the land of the Hindoos; and our first step
took us at once into one of the most celebrated provinces of ancient India, that of
the Dodb, a long and narrow slip of country extending from the north-west to
the south-west, between the Jumna and the Ganges. The name of Dodb perfectly
characterises this position, being derived from the two words, dé, two, and db,
waters (“the two rivers”). It was in a peninsula of this character that the
Brahmin settlers came and established themselves twenty centuries before Christ ;
these vast plains, covered with a fertile alluvion and producing excellent corn
crops, being perfectly adapted to their agricultural habits. , Abandoning the
conquest of the more hilly countries, which were defended by brave populations,
to the warlike Kshatryas, the Brahmins transformed the Doab into the land of
the church; and here they peacefully devised and developed those religious laws
which were destined to become afterwards the laws of all India.

At the present day the Brahmins still form the majority of the population of
the ancient Brahmavarta; but many of them have lost their sacred character, and
have fallen to the rank of simple husbandmen. It is a strange fact that the
type of the Do&b peasantry is far from recalling their illustrious origin; they
certainly are not all Brahmins, but doubtless spring from a mixture of the sacer-
dotal caste with the ancient proprietors of the soil—the Yats. A still more
remarkable fact is that this country, so richly cultivated, and that, too, for
probably forty centuries, still remains stationary at the agricultural processes
of the primitive ages. A piece of rough-hewn wood, simply reinforced by a
conical piece of iron, still serves for a plough: and the peasant is ignorant of the
spade, pickaxe, and harrow; he still contents himself with a hoe, with which he
turns over the soil and breaks the clods. Wherever water is within reach,
irrigation is employed, and the crops are very abundant. The land is intersected
besides by numerous canals, some of which date back from fabulous ages, or from
the Mahometan dominion, but the greater number of them are the work of the
English. The British Government has spent enormous sums for the canalisation.
xa INDIA.

of the Doadb, and thereby has considerably increased the prosperity of the
country.
Of late years the peasantry of this province, encouraged by the Government,

 

 

PEASANTS OF THE DOAB.

have devoted themselves especially to the cultivation of cotton, and this textile
material has now become almost the most important production of the Do&b. Thus,
at every village we passed we sighted the machine-house, to which the peasants
HATRAS ROAD RAILWAY STATION. 505

pring their cotton to press or to sell. These presses are of the most primitive
description, and worked by hand ; and their harsh, grinding sound, accompanied
by the song of the labourers pushing the wheel in cadence, may be heard from
a great distance. They generally gelong to native or European houses, who
in this manner centralise the cotton harvest of each village, which they buy
directly from the peasants at a large profit. The establishment of these agencies
in the principal lucalities is as profitable to the peasant as it is to the merchant,
and seems to have created, in a short space of time, a substantial source of
affluence in these districts; whereas, before, the cotton, prior to its transfer from
the peasant to. the merchant, had to pass through the hands of twenty inter-
mediaries, who doubled the price, without profit either to the grower or to the
buyer.

   

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en abeR LR z a Pe ee eT

THE MAUSOLEUM OF AKBAR, AT SECUNDRA.

After a journey of five hours we arrived at the station of Hatras Road, where
we took the rail. The station-master happened to be absent, and was represented
by a Bengalese baboo, whom our arrival threw into a state of excitement, which
was aggravated by his inability to procure us the necessary van for conveying
our horses as far as Aligurh, where we intended stopping to pay a visit to a
friend. He promised us, with endless protestations of fidelity, to take care of our
horses and servants during our absence, and to send them on to us by the next
day’s train to Delhi.

We soon heard the whistle of the locomotive; the train stopped at the
station, and we once more entered a railway-carriage, not without pleasure and some
emotion. It seemed to me as though the touch of some fairy’s wand had trans-
ported me to Europe. I stretched myself on the soft seats, and passed in review
all the details of the compartment as though a railway-carriage were a new object
506 INDIA.

to me; and for the first time I felt rather ashamed of my travelling costume,
which I saw reflected in a handsome glass hung over the cloak-holders. To add
to the illusion, we at that moment were passing at full speed over a flat country,
parcelled out in multicoloured fields, sprinkled with fruit trees, which might be
taken as well for Beauce as for the Doab.

At the end of an hour and a quarter we were at Aligurh. Our friend, having
had notice of our coming by a telegram, was waiting for us with his carriage at
the station, which is at a short distance from the town, and he took us to his
house, situated in the middle of a large and pleasant garden.

Aligurh is a little provincial town, guarded by an ancient fortress, now con-
verted into a prison; but it is the great centre of the cotton trade of the northern
Doab.

The next morning we again took to the railway. The country was as
monotonous and, uniform as before. The line turns off towards the west; and
beyond the sandy horizon of the banks of the Jumna we saw rising before us the
imposing outlines of the old imperial city, the great Delhi. A few minutes more,
and we crossed the Jumna, over the magnificent tubular bridge; we passed the
ancient fortress of Selimgarh; the train stopped; “Delhi! Delhi!” shouted the
guard; and we were in the capital of the Padishahs.
CHAPTER L.
DELHI.

Delhi compared to Rome.—lIts Position.—Indrapéchta,—Shah Jehan’s Town.—The Jummah
Musjid.—The Imperial Palace.—The Throne of Peacocks.—The Imperial Baths,—The Street
of Chandni Chowk.—The Cashmere Gate.—The Kal4-Musjid.—A Piece of Advice to Tourists.
—Experiences of a Photographer in India.—A Bath d la Mogole.—The Ulcers of Delhi.

HE name of Delhi shines out with incomparable brilliancy in
the history of India,—indeed, of all Asia. Around it are
concentrated all the glories and magnificence of that country
the echoes of which sufficed to inebriate the European world
during long centuries, and which, inflaming the ardour of
adventurers, launched Columbus on the track of the New

World, and urged Vasco di Gama, more fortunate than his rival, to face all the

horrors of the Cape of Tempests.

There is but one city in the world which can dispute the palm of so much
glory with Delhi, and that city is Rome, the capital of the old European world, as
Delhi was during so many centuries that of the Asiatic world. And even Rome,
the Eternal City, as it proudly styles itself, can scarcely measure its twenty-five
centuries against the haughty Indrapéchta, the capital of the Aryan empire fifteen
or twenty centuries before our era. While Rome presents to us the spectacle
of a city gradually rising until it became, through the ambition of its citizens,
mistress of the world, Delhi seems to have played an entirely different part.
Founded by invaders who were strangers to the soil of India, she was disputed
and taken possession of alternately by the different conquerors who were attracted
by the splendours of the sacred peninsula; and by a strange superstition, which
is still accepted at the present day, she became the palladium of India, and the
destinies of the whole peninsula were allied to hers. It was thus that the English
were never considered to be legally masters of the land until their standard floated
over the towers of Delhi.

To write the history of Delhi, therefore, would be to write the history of
India; and we certainly shall not attempt even a slight sketch of the plan of
that gigantic work, which still remains to be entirely constructed. A few words,
however, on the different phases of existence of the great city will enable the
reader to follow us with greater profit in our exploration of the wonders heaped
together in this single spot through so many centuries ; and these we will endeavour

to present to him rapidly. -
The most ancient historical legends of India mention three cities, Madhanti,

 
508 INDIA.

Hastinapoora, and Indrapéchta, which succeeded each other on the site now
occupied by modern Delhi. The last of these, Indrapéchta, the name of which
has remained attached to the modern city by the orthodox Hindoos up to the
present day, was founded, according to their extravagant chronology, in the year
3101 before the Christian era ; and among the heroes of the great Indian epic
poem, the Mahabharata, is found the name of Youdishtéra, who reigned over
Indrapéchta in the fifteenth century before Christ.

Apart from the fabulous epopee, we see the name of Delhi appear in the year
57 BC. as a new city founded on the already ten-century-old ruins of Indrapéchta
by King Dilvu, whose dynasty fell after an era the prosperity of which is attested
by the splendour of the monuments it has left us. This city, abandoned in its
turn, fell to ruins, and, being rebuilt in 736 by Anung Pal, became the capital of
the Touar empire; but the successors of this prince again left Delhi for Canoyj.
Raised from its ruins by Anung Pal II. in 1060, it was successively destroyed
and rebuilt by Vicala Déva in 1152, and by the Sultan Koutub in 1193.

Having become the capital of the great Mussulman empire in India, Delhi
was transported, at the caprice of each new dynasty, to new sites; and in the
course of this peregrination, which only terminated at the foundation of the
modern city by Shah Jehan in 1631, the migratory city bestrewed with its ruins
a plain of thirty miles along the banks of the Jumna. In no other place in the
world, not even in Rome itself, does there exist so enormous an assemblage of
ancient monuments collected in one spot. The plain of Delhi deserves to be
regarded as the national archeological museum of India, for it displays side by
side the finest existing specimens of the different styles of architecture of the
country, from the time when the Hindoos first used cut stone, up to the period
nearest to our own days.

The exploration of this magnificent and unequalled collection seemed to me
to be a worthy crowning-point to the long series of studies I had up to this time
devoted to the monuments of Rajasthan and Hindostan. After Delhi, the
countries towards which I was about to direct my course would offer me but few
and insignificant subjects for research, that is, of this description. I therefore
resolved, although the field had already been frequently overrun by my prede-
cessors, to devote at least a month to the ancient capital of India. I do not,
however, intend to make my readers participate in these labours. The reproduc-
tions of my photographs, which I am happy in being able to present to them,
accompanied by brief descriptions in the course of my journal, will permit them
to appreciate the noble beauty of the monuments of which they are the object,
and to comprehend my enthusiasm in view of this accumulation of wonders, in
itself a complete volume, in which all the records of the great history of India
appear traced out as upon so many pages.

January 25th—On getting out of the railway-carriage at the station of
Delhi, we found a sort of small omnibus, which took us to the travellers’
bungalow. The introduction of railways has not yet brought about the opening
of an hotel for Europeans, so that, comparatively speaking, the numerous tourists
who come from Calcutta are obliged to become acquainted with the ancient
institution of the dik bungalow, the use of which, out of countries traversed only
rarely by travellers, it is difficult to understand. Not that I intend to depreciate
the system of bungalows, owing them as I do such a debt of gratitude; but to
THE ¥UMMAH MUSYZID. * 509

see one of these modest dwelling-places in the midst of a populous city, con-
siderably influenced by a long European occupation, and especially to see it on
getting out of a railway-carriage, gave me the impression which a tent fixed for the
accommodation of strangers in the heart of Paris would produce. My disappoint-
ment at not finding an hotel only pféved to me how quickly I was resuming the
notions of the civilised man, and that the few hours I had just passed in a train
had made me forget the long years during which I had marched along the roads
of India on the back of a camel or an elephant, expecting no other resting-place
than the tent wearily carried behind us, My disappointment, however, was of
short duration, for, besides having the pleasure of finding all my campaigning
paraphernalia, tent, horses, and servants, which had preceded me several days
before, comfortably installed beside the bungalow, I discovered to my satisfaction

 

THE JUMMAH MUSJID.

that the travellers’ dwelling had been, contrary to the usual custom, placed in the
very centre of the modern city, within easy reach of all the curiosities it con-
tained. On the one hand, I saw the rose-coloured sandstone walls of the
imperial palace towering with their indented battlements; and on the other, at
the end of a large square, stood the imposing mass of the great mosque, darting
upwards towards the sky its two tall marble minarets.

After taking possession of the room which was allotted to us by the rules at the
rate of one rupee per day, I left the bungalow, and, accompanied by Schaumburg,
proceeded towards the mosque, the sacred Jummah Musjid, one of the monuments
which the Mussulmans of Central Asia and of India most venerate and admire.
This edifice, entirely composed of red sandstone, is raised upon an immense
terrace, to the summit of which three magnificent pyramidal staircases lead, each
510 INDIA.

terminating in a monumental doorway. We then found ourselves in a fine
marble-paved court, surrounded with cloisters of singular lightness and elegance,
and ornamented in the centre with a fountain of a winding shape, designed for
the ablutions of the faithful. At the end of this court, the broad facade of the
mosque extends. Itis composed of a long row of low narrow arches, on each side
of a lofty doorway, in the form of a pointed arched niche; and three white marble
domes, with black mouldings, much too large in proportion to the moderate height
of the facade, crown the edifice, which is flanked by two superb minarets, stripped
longitudinally with white and pink, and elevating a delicate cupola of white
marble in the air to a great height. The whole effect is grand and imposing;
and, notwithstanding some defects, we may agree with Fergusson that the great
mosque of Delhi is the masterpiece of Indo-Mussulman religious architecture:
but what no description can do justice to—and even engraving itself is powerless
to assist it—is the incomparable effect produced by the vivid though severe
colours which clothe every part of the building, when they are illuminated by
the glorious sun of India. The dark red of the galleries, the black and white
marbles of the facade, the whiteness of the domes crowned by glittering golden
pinnacles, and the rose-coloured stripings of the minarets, stand out against the
blue background of the sky without any crudeness, but rather ‘with a severe
harmony, proving the care with which the architect had combined and matched
the varied shades, and skilfully calculated their effects, according to the different
parts of the edifice they were connected with.

The interior of the mosque is of luxurious simplicity. Its roof, pillars, and
pavement, of the purest white marble, are embroidered with fine and delicate
arabesques carved in the stone; and, on the walls, slabs of black marble bear
short inscriptions in praise of God, and in memory of Shah Jehan, the founder of
the mosque. Formerly no European could penetrate into the interior of the
mosque; but since 1857 this interdiction has been removed. An old moollah
courteously did the honours of the temple, and invited us to mount to the top of
one of the minarets to enjoy the view to be seen thence. The spectacle really
compensated for the fatigue we underwent in mounting the two hundred and odd
steps of a staircase so narrow as barely to admit the passage of a man.

Seated beneath the little marble cupola, my eyes wandered over one of the
most interesting panoramas I have ever had the opportunity of contemplating.
At my feet lay the modern city, Shahjehanabad, as the Indians call it, with its
terraced houses, among which wind the narrow streets thronged with a busy crowd,
and with its many mosques and its palaces now either deserted or converted into
barracks ; and beyond the ramparts stretched a vast level plain, of a sandy appear-
ance, bounded on the west by a line of greyish rocks, and on the east by the bed
of the blue Jumna. Scattered over the plain were groups of edifices, domes,
columns, and pavilions, whose outlines faded away on the horizon to the south;
above which rose a narrow point I could distinguish only with the help of the
guide, being in fact no other than the colossus of this expanse, the gigantic
Koutub.

After a tolerably long stay in our aérial observatory, we once more reached
the pavement of the court; where the moollah, with an air of great mystery, pro-
posed to show us the precious relics which have obtained for the mosque its fame
of sanctity. He led us into a small nook, the door of which, carefully bolted,
THE IMPERIAL PALACE. “gtr

opened to us by the keeper only on the promise of a rupee honorarium, On our
admission, the old priest solemnly opened a sort of gilt tabernacle, and took from
it a silver case which he slowly unscrewed, piously muttering the name of Allah.
At last he placed before us a hair, some inches in length, stiff and red, set in a
silver tube. “The beard of the holy” prophet!” he said, bowing reverently. This
hair, according to tradition, really came from Mahomet’s beard; and the relic is
the glory of Delhi, while it is the envy of all the Mussulman cities, for it is only
Medina, Cairo, and Constantinople which possess anything so precious. Next the
priest exhibited to us a sandal, a camel-hair girdle, and several portions of the
prophet’s garments; the presentation of each of these relics being accompanied by
numberless genuflexions, which would have inspired strange reflections in him
who was the object of them if he could have seen them. What would Mahomet,
the fierce iconoclast, the disdainer of idols and relics, say could he see his faithful
followers yielding to trifling objects those marks of veneration which are due only
to God? Away! After overthrowing the masterpieces of the Greeks and Romans,
and prohibiting even the very outline of an animal creature in your temples, all
his orders and commands have eventuated in having a miserable hair and a shape-
less sandal raised in the sanctuary as divine! Man is born a fetishist, and ever
returns to his fetish.

After having restored these different objects to the tabernacle, they showed us
relics of another description. These were indeed true relics, which one could
regard only with respect; they were venerable dusty manuscripts; amongst
which, in the first rank, figured a Koran in fine characters, written under the
dictation of Mahomet by the hand of his son-in-law Im&m Hussein; and I also
saw an elegant copy of the Koran in Arab characters by one of the sons of the
Emperor Shah Jehan.

To finish the day, not having time to continue our visit to the city, we
emerged by the south-western gate, and strolled over the sands of the Jumna.
Seated on the banks of the river, we saw the sun gilding its domes and minarets
and enveloping the whole of its magnificent outline in a flaming light. Night was
fast approaching, and it was with some trouble that we succeeded in reaching the
gate, in the midst of a deafening concert struck up by the jackals, who, emboldened
by the darkness, rose from every turn of the road.

January 26th.— Early in the morning we proceeded to the imperial palace,
a vast citadel with high ramparts of pink sandstone, occupying almost the entire
eastern part of the city; and whose exterior appearance strongly reminds one of
the great fortress of Akbar at Agra. The elaborately constructed walls, orna-
mented with raised bands and indented battlements, overlook a wide deep moat,
which the English have partly masked by some earthworks. In the centre of
each of the fronts of the quadrilateral stands a fine gateway flanked by small
towers, and crowned with kiosks with marble domes; and a sort of bastion, into
which a portal encircled by slender minarets opens, defends each of these gate-
ways. These fortifications, a real monument of art, formidable in past times, but
insignificant at the present day, belong to the best period of the great Indo-
Mussulman art of the reign of Shah Jehan.

It was not without emotion that I crossed the threshold of the noble citadel
of the great Moguls, so long inaccessible to vulgar mortals, and which no one
could approach in former times without first bowing to the earth. This palace
512 INDIA.

long was the wonder of the world, and the receptacle of dazzling Asiatic mag-
nificence.

I recalled to mind those descriptions which were judged to be fabulous, and
yet were so truthful, given by my fellow-countrymen Bernier and Tavernier, who
in a few precious pages, written in a simple and natural style, have left us pictures
of these pomps of the court of the Great Mogul, which they had been able to
gaze upon, and which had left a dazzling impression on their minds. Tavernier,
however, as a jeweller, was less likely than another to let himself be easily dazzled,
and yet his narrative seems borrowed from some fairy tale. Crowds of soldiers
and courtiers, splendidly attired; the tumult of palanquins; plumed horses ;
elephants with houdahs of ivory and gold; slaves bearing rich parasols,—such
was the sight which met the eye of the stranger as he approached the gate of the
imperial palace, the very walls of which were almost hidden beneath the folds of
the khanats of embroidered fabrics and the long state banners. Scarcely had they
penetrated into the enclosure when the scene became like fairyland. Marble-
paved courts, ornamented with many fountains, and groves of orange and other
valuable trees were encircled by palaces with marble walls resembling ivory, and
displaying from between their indented arcades perfect rivulets of gold, silver, and
precious stones.

How times are changed, and how different was the sight which now met my
gaze! English soldiers with quaint helmets of plaited straw, dressed in sun-
jackets, filled the vast guard-house, and their guttural tones rang through the
pointed arches of the roof. We then passed through the great gate, and behold!
we were in the interior of the citadel. Alas! ugly, hideous barracks obstructed
the horizon on every side; all that survived was a long pavilion, whose festooned
arcades have been carefully walled up with bricks, so as to form frightful square
windows furnished with wooden shutters. This poor pavilion, the ancient Naobut
Khana of the emperors, was conspicuous even under its English disguise amid the
barracks which boldly displayed their symmetrical rows of brand-new bricks.
Assuredly it would have been more charitable to have obliterated it entirely.

I was about to retire sorrowfully, not caring to carry so sad an exploration
any farther, when I perceived a soldier running towards me. “There it is, sir,’
he said, pointing in an opposite direction to that I was pursuing. “What is
there?” inquired I. “The palace.” “The palace?” “Yes, sir, all that remains
of the palace of the old rajahs. It is worth seeing; and, if you gentlemen would
like to follow me, I will show it you.”

We followed our guide, and, doubling the Naobut Khana, we found ourselves
in a second court, at the extremity of which stands a very fine palace in the
Mogul style, unfortunately disfigured in the same way by brick partitionings.
This was formerly the Dewani-Am, or hall of state audiences; a vast hall, the
roof of which, decorated with mosaics, was supported by numerous elegantly
shaped columns. None of these splendours are now visible: the ceilings have
been coated with whitewash, and clerks are installed in the offices which fill this
part of the palace at the present day. In one of the halls are still to be seen
the throne and the marble dais where the emperor took his seat. On leaving the
Dewani-Am, we crossed a spacious square, also lined with modern buildings, and
reached the Dewani-Khas, the celebrated throne-room.

This pavilion was the wonder of the palace; and, although stripped of its
THE DEWANLKHAS. 513
principal treasures, it is still a perfect gem. Seen from the exterior, it is a larce
kiosk of white marble, of great simplicity ; but its interior is of unheard-of
richness: the pillars, the arches, and the cordons of the roof are worked in

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THE DEWANI-KHAS, PALACE OF DELHI.

marvellous arabesques designed with precious stones incrusted in the marble;
and the sun playing through the arcades on these delicious mosaics seems to give
life to these airy garlands of flowers of lapis-lazuli, onyx, sardonyx, and a thousand

other precious stones.
2K
514 INDIA.

Here we must refer to Tavernier’s narrative, to form an idea of what this hall
must have been in the days of Mogul splendour. The ceiling, he relates, was
encased in a tissue of gold and silver, of admirable workmanship ; which he, as a
jeweller, valued at the enormous sum of twenty-seven millions of francs. Heavy
silken draperies, confined by chains of gold, made a framework to the arcades
spanning the circumference of the hall; and, finally, in the centre stood the
wonder of wonders, the famous Throne of Peacocks. This throne, of massive.
gold, measured six feet in length, four feet in width, and formed a sort of estrade,
the back of which, covered with delicate enamelling, spread itself out in the form
of a peacock’s tail; and a dais in solid gold, bordered with a long thick fringe of
fine pearls, and resting upon twelve golden columns, covered the rear of the throne,
the front of which was sheltered by two immense velvet parasols embroidered with
pearls, with gold handles inlaid with diamonds. This masterpiece of goldsmith’s
art had been executed bya French goldsmith, Austin of Bordeaux, attached to the
court of Shah Jehan, and had cost, according to Tavernier’s calculation, a hundred
and fifty millions of francs. It was taken from the emperors of Delhi in 1739
by Nadir Shah of Persia.

To the left of the Dewani-Khas lie the private apartments of the emperors
—a long suite of halls and rooms, with inlaid marble walls; pretty courts,
ornamented with reservoirs and fountains, and elegant kiosks closed in with light
marble lacework.

Not far from the private apartments are the Akbary Hummoum, or imperial
baths, the best preserved and most interesting portion of this immense palace. It
is well known what an important share of Oriental existence is occupied by the
baths. It is there that the listless Asiatic passes the most agreeable moments of
his day; we need not therefore be astonished at the luxury and refinement dis-
played in every detail of the imperial baths; nothing seems to have been spared
to render them the most charming spot in the whole palace. We first entered
some small circular rooms, lighted by a narrow opening placed in the centre of
the cupola-shaped roof; the floor of which, paved with white marble, was covered
with delicate mosaics representing flowers strewn irregularly. In the centre of
each room was either a bath or a sort of sofa on which to receive the inhalations,
invariably of marble inlaid with precious stones; and on every side wound the
bronze pipes which conveyed water of different degrees of heat, and steam. A
Mussulman guide, who led us through the rooms of the palace, supplied me with
the several details of the imperial bath. The city, however, possesses at the
present day an establishment where the tradition of the Mogul baths is still
preserved, and where I can convince myself by experience of their much-boasted
delights.

On leaving the Akbary Hummoum, we visited the Moti-Musjid, the Mosque
of Pearls, where the emperors came to perform their devotions. It is a small
chapel, a perfect gem of carved ivory, but with nothing of the imposing severity
which characterises its namesake of the palace of Agra. We then passed through
the spacious grounds formerly occupied by the fairy-like gardens of the palace, so
often sung of by the Mogul poets, and where now only a few sickly trees, half
buried in the ruins, remain standing.

Leaving the palace by the great gate of the Padishahs, we saw a magnificent
wide and straight street stretching out before us-—a sort of boulevar 1, planted
THE STREET OF CHANDNI CHOWK. 515

with trees, and lined with handsome, regularly built houses. This was Chandni
Chowk, the glory and pride of Shahjehanabad, as the natives commonly call
modern Delhi. This street, which is really very fine, passes through the city in a

HINDOO BANKERS OF DELHI.

Ml
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straight line from the great gate of the palace to the gate of Lahore ; and it is here
that the chief tradesmen of Delhi are to be found. The shops, resembling square
recesses, of almost uniform dimensions, are crammed with valuable and curious
articles——Cashmere shawls, Bashampore gauzes, arms from the Punjaub, carved
516 INDIA.

baskets from Shekawattee, and lacquer work from Scinde. Farther on are the
bankers, who, without seeming to dread their mutual vicinity, occupy a long row
of adjoining shops. Then come the shoemakers, renowned for their prow-shaped
shoes embroidered with silk, and their elegant Turkish slippers; the hatters, who
make the golden toques of the Mirzas and the citizens’ light caps, and who arrange
the strangely fashioned turbans distinctive of each caste; goldsmiths, exhibiting
jewels of a workmanship as delicate as it is artistic; pastrycooks, displaying their
tempting cakes, which they knead and bake in presence of the public; &c., &e. ;
each one of these different trades forming a sort of group almost entirely separate
from the other.

Although the English have deprived Delhi of its title as capital, and have
made it a dependency of the government of the North-Western Provinces, it has
none the less continued to be regarded by all the Indians as their capital. There
is, besides, no other city, except Lahore, which can be compared to it in real
importance. Its money market is still the chief one in all Southern Asia, and its
bankers extend their business connections as far as Muscat, Cabool, Ladak, and Yar-
kand—that is to say, over Arabia, Affghanistan, Thibet, and Turkestan. Thus the
crowds which fill the street of Chandni Chowk at all hours of the day form a most
interesting study. The type best calculated to arrest attention in the first instance
is that of the natives of Delhi. Both Hindoos and Mussulmans are remarkable
for a degree of elegance and care for their personal appearance, which denotes the
influence of the long stay of the Mogul Court in this city. Their countenances
are lively and intelligent, and they are courteous and affable towards strangers,
although it is perhaps as well not to reckon too much on these very superficial
qualities with regard to Europeans. Their women also are very elegantly dressed ;
the Hindoo ladies in a coloured sarri and plaited skirt, and the Mussulman in loose
vests and pantaloons gathered in at the ankle. After the natives of Delhi come
the Affshans, Beloochees, and representatives of almost all the races inhabiting the
valleys of the Punjaub and the slopes and plateaux of the Himalayas.

On reascending the Chandni Chowk, we passed a sort of guard-house of modern
construction, insignificant enough in itself, but the name of which alone is sufficient
to make every inhabitant of Delhi tremble. It is the Kétwali, or native town-
hall; in front of which the guilty defenders of the city were brought in 1857,
after the taking of the city by the English, and were there executed.

Passing the Kétwali, we entered another fine large street, which cuts the
Chandni Chowk at right angles, and soon reached the gate of Cashmere. ‘The
English have left it in the state to which it was reduced after the siege and
capture in the great rebellion ; the creviced casemates, and stones starred by the
shock of the balls, being still visible. The ramparts surrounding modern Delhi
date from the reign of Shah Jehan; but, being built of granite, and protected
by a deep moat and a high embankment, they still form a tolerably formidable
system of defence. The walls occupy a circuit of seven miles, and have twelve
gates.

From the Cashmere gate a road lined with trees leads to the English civil and
military cantonments, situated a mile and a half to the north. We returned to
the city, and strolled across the narrow crooked bazaars, crowded with people, which
radiate round the Chandni Chowk ; but we met nothing worthy of notice in our
walk, unless, indeed, we may mention the Kala Musjid, or Black Mosque, a dark
ADVICE TO TOURISTS. 517

building of curious architecture, which stands at a short distance from the Turco-
man gate. This mosque is the only edifice anterior to the reign of Shah Jehan
enclosed at the present day within the walls of the city.

On returning to the bungalow after our long excursion, we found the entrance
to our apartment invaded by a regular swarm of tradesmen, prepared to offer us
the curiosities of the capital for sale. The verandah, on which the dealers
exhibited their wares, presented the appearance of a regular bazaar; shawls, stuffs,
antelopes’ horns, weapons, caskets, faus, bronzes, and statuettes being displayed in
the most picturesque and tempting disorder. Nevertheless, resisting all their
temptations, we relentlessly sent away all these greedy speculators, who, profiting
by the inexperience of tourists, rob them with impunity, selling them articles at
rates ten and even twenty times in excess of those current in the bazaar. To
qualify the tourist who is not sufficiently acquainted with the language of the
country and the customs of the bazaar to encounter these unscrupulous inter-
mediaries, the best plan is to beat down the price of the articles offered to him
according to this standard. His offers will evoke ironical laughs and torrents of
exclamations at first; but the dealers, after carefully packing up their precious
trinkets and leaving him, will soon return and yield up their goods at the prices
offered, though not without pulling their beards and wringing their hands in
token of despair, and protesting against bargains which their poverty alone
compels them to accept.

Among the dealers who came to the bungalow at Delhi there was one class,
however, that merits greater indulgence from the tourist, and which I certainly
accorded to them; I mean the miniature-painters. These artists (for among them
there are a few who deserve this title) execute very pretty copies on ivory of the
principal monuments of Delhi and Agra; and their prices comparatively are very
reasonable, since their works, although of remarkable finish, have never been much
liked by English tourists. They are, for the most part, descendants of the painters
formerly attached to the Court of the Moguls; and they have preserved by tradi-
tion the portraits of the principal personages of that dynasty, which they repro-
duce in the form of very pretty miniatures. A not less interesting fact is that
some very curious and very correct copies of the principal monuments of Mecca
are found amongst their works.

January 27th—The morning was devoted to photography. Followed by the
servants with my apparatus, I repeated my yesterday's excursion ; but this time I
did not return home until I had fixed on my plates all the principal monuments
of the city.

One thing that impressed me during the whole course of my travels was the
extreme obligingness with which the Indians everywhere accommodate themselves
to the sometimes imperious requirements of the photographer. Their curiosity
never borders on indiscretion ; and, as soon as they perceive the apparatus directed
towards a certain point, they are very careful not to disturb the operation in the
smallest degree. A movement ora sign from the photographer is sufficient to
stop the crowds in a street for several minutes ; and if he wishes to animate his
scene by the introduction of special figures, the passers-by will always yield good-
humouredly to his fancy. This is a fact worthy of notice, and it seems to me
that it is a very characteristic proof of the gentleness and tractability of the
Hindoo people. Without wishing to make ill-natured comparisons, I should like
518 INDIA.

to ask the painters and photographers who travel in France whether they ever
found the same consideration and civility amongst our peasants.

On returning from my photographic rounds I was conducted to the Mogul
baths, to enable me personally to acquire experience of this much-vaunted method
of ablution. These baths really differ very little from the Turkish baths. The
bather is first introduced into a series of chambers, heated at increasing tempera-
tures; the attendant then, after sprinkling him with a jug of tepid water, which
seems icy, lays him on a marble table, and lathers his body all over with soap,
shampooing and kneading it until the bather is in a complete state of exhaustion.
He is then enveloped in a warm blanket and placed on a sofa, where, after an
hour’s sleep, he finds himself refreshed; but the sensation is delusive, for the
rough process leaves him but little fitted for any occupation during the remainder
of the day. It is, in short, a hygienic system excellently well adapted, doubtless,
for the idle and drowsy Asiatic, but not much to be recommended to the Euro-
pean, who is accustomed to an active life.

Delhi, situated in the midst of large plains watered by numerous rivers, enjoys
a healthy climate. Its winters, which are cool and agreeable, can only be com-
pared to the finest days of our spring, while the summer really is not insupport-
able, except during the brief period when those terrible hot winds blow, of which
my readers have had my experience under the head of Jeypore. Delhi is, how-
ever, afflicted with a very strange evil, which makes it one of the most dreaded
places for the English officers and functionaries. This evil, known by the name
of the “ Delhi ulcer,” is caused by a special infection of the drinking-water. Any
one who drinks this water, even once only, after a certain period, sometimes even
after a long time has elapsed, will see appearing on different parts of his body
real ulcers, extremely difficult to cure. These ulcers have no analogy with the
Guinea worm or the ringworm produced by various waters in India and other
countries ; they are positive sores. The only way to avoid the contagion is to
submit the water destined for purposes of food to the process of boiling, Gene-
rally speaking, strangers making only a short stay in Delhi will not trouble them-
selves to take these precautions, and they are wrong; for I myself knew at
Calcutta a person who had been attacked by the malady, although, in a few
hours’ stay at Delhi, he had drunk only a glass of water. According to native
belief, this evil made its appearance after the taking of the city by the English in
1857; and it more especially attacks Europeans, who are thereby, according to
fanatics, branded for their impiety by the hand of Allah.
CHAPTER LL

THE PLAIN OF DELHI,

The Town and the Palace of Feroze.—Asoka’s Needle.—The Citadel of the Pourana Kila—The
Affghan Mosque.—The Tomb of Houmayoun.—An Impertinent Hyena hunted in my Bed-
room.—Nizam-ood-deen.—Arab-Ka-Seraii— lhe Mausoleum of Suftur Jung.—Circles and
Gnomons.—A Night in a Tomb,—An Extempore Nautch.

4] ANUARY 31sT.—We commenced to-day our explorations of the
fA) «plain of Delhi;—a vast necropolis, strewed over many square
miles with the ruins of nine cities which successively bore the
same name.

Early in the morning Schaumburg and I mounted our horses,
and left the town by the southern gate, or Delhi Durwaza.
Within a few yards of the ramparts we entered upon the field of the dead, and
our horses’ hoofs returned a dull sound on the hard uneven ground, a strange
accumulated mass of bricks and fragments of stone and cement, beneath which
sleep so many generations. It is here that formerly stood, great and populous,
the imperial city founded by Feroze, one of the most enlightened princes the
Affghan dynasty ever produced. On one side its ramparts were mirrored in the
blue waters of the Jumna; on the other its suburbs, traversed by several canals
of soft water, extended to the westward hills. But he who styled himself the
Scourge of God, the fierce Tartar, Tamerlane, came with his hordes in 1398; and,
on the spot where the superb Delhi of the fourteenth century had stood, he left
only a mass of ruins on which even the grass refuses to grow. One single edifice
resisted the fury of the lame conqueror.* It was the palace of Feroze, which to the
present day raises its bare skeleton, full of imposing grandeur, in the midst of this
solitude which once was a city.

The palace, in which the natives see an ancient citadel, and which for that
reason they call Feroze-Ka-Kota, is a building of very original character. It is
composed of four square terraces, superposed in the form of a pyramid, each side
having a considerable number of arches; at the corners of each storey were placed
pavilions surmounted by cupolas, of which only two specimens remain; and, to
crown the whole, from the summit of the terrace springs a magnificent monolith,
thirty-seven feet in height. In the days of its splendour this palace, with its
great facades overlaid with stucco and painted in bright colours, its broad terraces,
its blue enamelled domes, and its stone spire encased in an envelope of gold, must

 

* It is known that the great Tartar conqueror, who brought fire and bloodshed throughout all Asia
from 1370 to 1406, was lame from his birth.
520 INDIA.

have presented a coup-d’@il as strange as it was admirable, and it must have
powerfully impressed the barbarous companions of Tamerlane when they gazed
at it for the first time. The stone needle which surmounts the palace of Feroze
is one of the most interesting and curious monuments of ancient India, for in it
we see one of the stone columns which the Buddhist emperor Asoka caused to be
erected in different parts of his empire towards the year 250 before the current
era; and what gives it a still greater interest is that archeologists consider these
columns as the first attempts made by the Indians to employ cut stone in their
architecture.

This column, or lat, is a monolith of red sandstone, of cylindrical form, gradu-
ally tapering towards the point. It measures thirty-seven feet in height, and ten
feet four inches in girth at the base; and on its carefully polished surface are
seen several inscriptions, which have for centuries defied the ingenuity of learned
Arabs and Europeans. The principal one treats of the publication of one of the
religious edicts of Asoka, written in Pali, and deciphered for the first time by the
illustrious Oriental scholar, Prinsep. The Mussulman historians of the reign of
Feroze relate that the prince ordered this lit, which had stood amongst the ruins
of a pagan temple situated on the banks of the Jumna, to be removed and. con-
veyed at an enormous expense to Delhi, where it was placed at the top of the
imperial palace; and under the name of Minar Zirin, or Column of Gold (it had
been covered with sheets of this metal), it was long regarded as the palladium of
the empire. It is difficult to understand how it was spared by Tamerlane, who
merely stripped it of its rich covering.

Near the palace of Feroze stands a large mosque, of a simple and severe style
of architecture, which has also escaped the general ruin. °

For a whole hour we wandered through the rooms of the palace, the arches
of which, formed of a bluish granite, and joined together by a cement of extreme
solidity, are even now very strong; and, after having taken a photograph of the
whole, we set out again on our road.

Now for a quarter of an hour we plodded wearily through heaps of ruins and
broken pieces of walls, and at last reached a fine granite gateway relieved by
bands of red sandstone, which marks the entrance to the city built in 1415 by
the Emperor Dadlat Lodi, close to the very site of the Delhi of the Emperor
Feroze, that had been destroyed some years before by Tamerlane. This city
disappeared in its turn; and the citadel alone remains, picturesquely perched on
a little eminence which formerly constituted its centre; a fine large pathway
leading to the ruined gate of the fortress, which at the present day bears the
name of Pourana Kila, or Old Fort. Passing through a handsome gateway flanked
by the guard-house, we found ourselves in a vast enclosure, half occupied
by a poor Hindoo village, above which were visible the lofty cupolas of the
ancient edifices. The most remarkable of these is the Kala Musjid, or Black
Mosque, a fine specimen of Affghan architecture ; a long narrow edifice, surmounted
by three massively shaped domes, and presenting a fine facade perforated by five
pointed arches of different heights. The body of the edifice, in red sandstone,
is set off by bands and roses of white marble, covered with delicate sculptures ;
but the inner halls have no ornament save a few graceful marble ‘idlas, pointing

out to true believers the direction of Mecca. Fine mosaics, now much damaged,
formerly decorated the ceiling.
MAUSOLEUM OF HOUMAYOUN. 521

Near this mosque stands a rather handsome stone pavilion, which was used
as a library by the Pathan emperors. It was here that Houmayoun, who after a
long exile had just recovered the throne of his father, perished miserably by fall-
ing from the top of a ladder, upon which he had mounted to reach a book from
the shelves of his library. This prince, the true founder of the dynasty of the
Great Moguls, rests in a superb tomb to the south of the Pourana Kila, which we
visited on leaving the old fortress.

 

MAUSOLEUM OF HOUMAYOUN, PLAIN OF DELHI.

This mausoleum is one of the noblest monuments on the plain of Delhi. Its
imposing mass of white marble and rose-coloured sandstone, surmounted by a
dome of great beauty, rises in the middle of a vast terrace, occupying the centre
of a garden full of flowers, encircled by graceful kiosks of red stone ; and under
the broad cupola lies the simple and unornamented tombstone which covers the
ashes of the first of the Moguls.

We passed the rest of the day at the mausoleum of Houmayoun. One of
the kiosks of the garden, transformed into a bungalow by the English, afforded us
522 INDIA,

a comfortable lodging for the night; and our servants, who had already preceded
us thither in the morning, served up a dinner, to which the high wind that had
blown all day, and the fatigue of our excursion, imparted a savoury relish.

In the evening an incident occurred which threw our party into great excite-
ment. We were quietly smoking our cigars on the terrace of the mausoleum,
when I saw the servants running and calling for help, while at the same time,
before the open door of our bungalow, our dogs were struggling like mad creatures,
and barking at some invisible object. “A panther in monsieur’s bedroom!” cried
my bearer, trembling with fright, as he approached me. We rushed towards the
bungalow in hot haste; but on the way I recollected that all our guns were in
that very room. What was to be done? The servants, who had remained
behind, entreated me not to go farther; the dogs kept on barking furiously; and
I could distinctly hear a low growling in answer to their cries. It would have
been dangerous to risk oneself in that direction unarmed; especially as the
presence of a panther would not have been a surprise, for these animals abound
in the neighbouring mountains, and must certainly extend their excursions as far
as the Jumna.

After a moment’s deliberation, seeing that the mysterious occupant of our
apartment did not make up his mind to come out, I caused some rags to be
soaked in oil, and, setting light to them, placed them at the end of a stick, with
which I advanced towards the door, in front of which the dogs had never ceased
to mount guard. On reaching it, I threw the flaming rags into the room; their
introduction was greeted from the interior with a strange giggling laugh, which
put our brave companions to flight; and in an instant the light discovered to us,
crouching almost under the bed, with its hairs bristling and large eyes glaring,
and showing its threatening fangs, a fine-sized hyena. The incident was con-
verted from the tragic to the ridiculous. On learning that it was only a hyena
the servants came running, and one of them, a syce, an able-bodied fellow, offered
to go, in the very face of this most cowardly of all carnivorous animals—rendered
still more timid by the sight of the fire—and fetch my gun, which lay ready
loaded against a chair pretty near the door. At one spring the gun was reached,
and placed in my hands, while the servants held their sabres and knives in
readiness. Surrounded by all these warriors, now full of daring, I had the dogs
removed and took aim at the animal; the shot was soon discharged ; and, before
the smoke had completely cleared away, I perceived the unfortunate hyena, who,
badly wounded, crawled to the door, where the sabres of the men soon despatched
her; and we retired to rest, not without laughing heartily over the emotions of
the evening and the episode of the hyzna-hunt in a bedroom.

February 1st—The mausoleum of Houmayoun forms the centre of a vast
cemetery spreading over the whole plain of Delhi, from the Jumna to the western
hills; and the tombs which compose this immense necropolis are of every descrip-
tion, from the modest tombstone to the massive edifice surmounted by a lofty
dome and covered with those bricks enamelled in such bright and delicate tints,
the secret of which is lost.

The principal group is ranged around the little village called Arab-ka-serai,
and interesting monuments abound there; but we shall limit ourselves to noticing
a fine mausoleum of the Pathan period (the fifteenth century), of a severe and
stately character, although covered with a profusion of charming arabesques, and

.
wo

MOSQUE OF NIZAM-OOD-DEEN. 523

a small mosque; which in any other place would be visited and admired, but
which are passed by unheeded among the many monuments which cover the
plain.

A little to the west of this group of tombs stands another group not less
remarkable, which surrounds the magnificent mosque erected in the fourteenth
century by the Emperor Toghluk, in honour of the Mussulman saint, Nizam-ood-
deen. The great Mogul families disputed the possession of the ground sanctified
by the presence of the celebrated missionary of Islam, and the graves are ranged
side by side, as in one of our European cemeteries. On these large marble flag-
stones, surrounded by elegant balustrades wonderfully carved, we may read some
of the most illustrious names of India, of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries,
such as the Emperor Mohammed Shah, the Princes Ali, J ehanghir, and others.
While strolling through this cemetery I read the following curious inscription on
one of the tombs :—“TI desire that my grave should have no pompous monument
upon it. The simple grass will be a far better covering for the remains of the
short-lived Jehanara, the poor in spirit, the daughter of the Emperor Shah Jehan.”
This Jehanara is one of the most touching types which appear to us in the dark
history of the India of the seventeenth century. Daughter of the celebrated Taj
Bibi and of Shah Jehan, she followed her unhappy father—deprived of his sight
by his son’s order—to his prison, and, disdaining the offers of marriage which
her beauty attracted, remained to his last hour the guardian angel of the poor
old man. It is singular to find her name placed by the side of that of Christ on
her tombstone; and the theory is, not that she was a Christian, but that she
belonged to a Mussulman sect, very numerous even at the present day, which
places Jesus in the first rank of the prophets, and gives Him the title of Spirit of
God, or the Holy Presence.

Beside the mosque of Nizam-ood-deen there is a curious piscina of water of
great antiquity, supposed to have been one of the numerous reservoirs formed by
the Emperor Asoka, in the third century before our era, of which mention is made
in the Pali inscription of the l4t surmounting the palace of Feroze. The reservoir
of this piscina, formed of blocks of stone carefully cemented, is filled with a limpid
water, completely shaded from the sun, and kept at a very icy temperature, by
the high walls of the edifices which overhang it. This water is supposed to
possess miraculous properties, and pilgrims come and devoutly plunge themselves
into it in spite of its excessive coldness; and the prize of a few annas will tempt
the boys of the village to take a formidable header from the top of an adjoining
terrace into the reservoir.

Keeping onwards towards the east, we reached the mausoleum of Suftur Jung,
which faces the postal road leading from Delhi to Koutub. This tomb, although
modern, is one of the finest ornaments of the noble museum of Indian architecture.
It worthily closes this unequalled series of monuments which thus mark all the
transitions of Indian art from the third century before our era. The dome of
white marble, of great purity of design, points its golden pinnacle a hundred feet
from the ground, and covers a magnificent hall, containing the state cenotaph of
Suftur Jung. In a vault beneath this hall lay the ashes of the mighty ruler,
under a simple mound of earth; for, as the inscription at the head tells us,
“ however great and pompous man may be in the presence of his fellowmen, he is
small and humble before God.” This sentiment of humility in the sight of God,
524 INDIA.

and of pride before man, is always carefully expressed on the tombs of the
Mussulman kings of India.

A little to the north of the mausoleum of Suftur Jung stands a group of still
more interesting ruins. They are the remains of the great astronomical obser-
vatory founded by the learned King Jey Sing of Jeypore, of whom I have already
spoken at length to my readers. Of this edifice nothing now remains but the
shell, so to say; for the instruments have long since disappeared, and with them
the scientific men who animated them, and had made this spot one of the most
celebrated temples of astronomy in the world. On all sides stand buildings of
eccentric forms—circles, gnomons, parabole, ellipses—the whole occupying an
enormous space, and erected on a truly gigantic scale. The principal erection is
an immense equatorial sundial, to which Jey Sing had given the name of Semrat
Yantar, or the King of Sundials. The hand designed to throw the shade on the
dial forms a triangle. In front of this gnomon is a building of singular form,
having a spiral staircase in the centre, the walls, arranged in concentric half-
circles, serving as gnomons to dials indicating the meridians, separated by a fixed
angle from the meridian of the observatory ; and to the east and west of the great
equatorial observatory are two vast circles in masonry, from sixteen to eighteen
feet in height and of an immense diameter, the contemplated arrangement of
which considerably puzzles visitors. In the centre of each circle stands a column,
from the base of which diverge thirty stone radii, extending at regular intervals
to the line of circumference. Each radius and each space forms a sector of six
degrees ; the whole forming the three hundred and sixty degrees of the circle.
Opposite the point where each radius terminates, two windows open in the wall
of the circle, arranged in two storeys, to which lead stairs contrived in the masonry.
These openings, as well as the radii, are divided by a series of geometrical lines,
so that the shadow of the pillar thrown on these divisions indicates the sun’s
azimuth; and the altitudes and the azimuth of the moon and stars could be
observed in the same manner. The utility of these two circles, which enabled the
Indian astronomers to carry on their observations simultaneously, and consequently
with great precision, may be understood by this brief explanation.

I lingered till rather a late hour among these curious ruins to take some _
photographic views; but, unfortunately, the three plates that. I took were broken
during my return journey to Europe. Night overtook us in the midst of our
labours ; and, having all my servants with me, I determined to seek a resting-place
for the night on the plain; by which means we should be enabled both to dispense
with our tent, and to avoid returning to Koutub, which was some miles distant.
We started on our search, and soon found, near Nizam-ood-deen, a fine Pathan
mausoleum, the spacious chambers of which would afford a comfortable shelter, as
well for ourselves as for our servants and horses.

Our iron beds were set up, the camp-table was fixed on its legs, and the lamp
lighted ; and so the tomb of the brave or ferocious Pathan cavalier was transformed
into a decent bedchamber. Our servants brought some fowls, rice, and milk from
the neighbouring village; and soon the bright and cheerful bivouac blaze lighted
up with its broad reflection the old cupola, striped with bands of blue and gold
enamel. While our dinner was being prepared, I reflected sadly that this
improvised picnic in a tomb would be the last scene of the free and happy life in
the jungle that I had led now for four years, and to which I was about to bid
REFLECTIONS. 525

farewell, doubtless for long. I left the room; and there lay the plain bare and
silent before me, bathed in that soft zodiacal light which the sun leaves behind
him, as though he could not endure to forsake the beloved earth ; the clear sky
sparkled with myriads of stars; and at intervals the jackal uttered his piercing
ery, which was responded to from alf* points of the horizon by a thousand jeceiug
yells of diabolical rhythm. z

This spectacle, so calm and grand, touched me; the savage cries echoed
harmoniously on my ear. A few more days, mused I, and the locomotive will

a ears
Se
2

 

BAYADERE OF MEWAT.,

carry me far away from all this, across a country which will still be India,
but India of modern civilisation—India with hotels, railway-stations, and manu-
factories ; and each turn of the wheel will take me nearer to that native land
which is so dear to me,. but will bear me far from this land which is also dear to
me—this Rajasthan to which I am bound by so many memories and so many
friendships.

He who hag not lived this life of the jungles, the life of free air and liberty,
with its clcse communion between man and an almost virgin Nature, with its
526 INDIA,

dangers, its adventures, and its hardships, can form no idea of the heaviness of
heart felt by those who, having once experienced it, are about to bid adieu to it
perhaps for ever. The farewell cannot be uttered without sorrow and reluctance;
but the traveller, like every one else in the world, has duties to accomplish ; and,
if he thinks only of running over the world in search of personal gratifications, he
acts the part of a mere egotist; his toil is useless; he is no better than an
ordinary adventurer, profitless to himself and to society.

My readers must pardon these reflections. They faithfully depict my feelings
on that particular evening, as for an instant I deliberated whether I should not
turn my back on France and the civilised world, and plunge back once more into
the midst of the deserts I had only just left.

“Dinner is on the table!” announced the khansamah.

A plague on melancholy! Man is not born to find his happiness only in
the midst of jackals and hyenas. There are other and higher enjoyments which
France reserves for those who appreciate her, or who know how to deserve
them.

It was decreed, however, that the evening should end merrily. After dinner
we received the visit of a troop of conjurors and bayadéres, who, happening to
be encamped in the neighbourhood on their road to Delhi, got scent of our
presence, and came to solicit the honour of giving us a representation. The
proposal was agreed to; soon the cymbals and tom-toms made the old arched
vaults ring again; and by the flickering flames of the torches, filling the place
with light and smoke, the handsome girls, naked to the waist, executed the
antique dances of Rajasthan. The picture was a strange and fantastic one, well
worthy the pencil of a Rembrandt. To them succeeded the men, regular bandits
of Mewat, who, sabre in hand, performed a strange fantasia, intermingled with
yells.

At last we had to think of retiring to rest; the performers departed, and
every one sought his bed, while the hyaenas and the jackals kept their diabolical
chorus round our place of refuge.

\
CHAPTER LILI.
KOUTUB.

’ Alladeen’s Gate.—The Koutub.—The Great Mosque—The Galleries of Pirtwi-Raj.—Dava’s
Lat.—The Legend of the Serpent.—The Tomb of Altamsh.—Mehrowli.—The Citadel of
Toghluckabad.—A Good Cousin.

St, EBRUARY 2np.—At the southern extremity of the plain of
Delhi, marking the limit of its immense field of ruins, stands the
stately triumphal column erected in the very centre of the last
Hindoo capital by the Mussulman conqueror, Koutub-Oudin-
Eibeg.

Situated on a slight eminence, this column, commonly called
the Koutub, is visible from all parts of the plain, over which it towers majesti-
cally. I was not a little eager to have a closer inspection of this colossus, round
whose base are crowded some of the finest monuments of India, and towards
which, for some days past, my companions had been constantly turning their
glances, unable to comprehend why I lingered near ruins which had no interest
in their eyes; but I should advise any traveller who may follow in my footsteps
at Delhi to imitate my example, for, after once seeing the group of monuments
of the Koutub, he can bestow only an indifferent glance on all the rest.

A good road took us from our lodging in the mausoleum, which we left at an
early hour, straight to the Koutub. We soon reached a sort of bushy garden,
the dark green masses of which presented a strong contrast to the reddish tints
of the bare and desolate plain; and in the middle of an open space, surrounded
by fine trees, we found an excellent bungalow, established by the English
Government for the accommodation of travellers. After an interval of time just
sufficient to enable us to take possession of our rooms and have the tents set up
for our attendants, we hastened to the Koutub.

A narrow pathway, bordered with pomegranate and guava trees, all inter-
laced by a trellis-work of flowering jessamines, buried itself in the thicket, and,
keeping along this pathway, we soon got to the rear of a shallow ravine overrun
with vegetation, at the end of which appeared the lofty column, its rose-coloured
mass standing out straight and grand against a deep blue sky. Reclining on
the grass, under the shade of the trees of this wood, which might with justice be
termed a park, we contemplated the ensemble of the ruins for a few moments
longer before approaching nearer to them. In no other spot, perhaps, has Nature
united herself so gracefully to the works of man. Generally speaking, ruined
cities are gloomy and desolate; it seems as though the very ground were stricken

 
528 INDIA.

by the curse that had fallen on the unhappy city. Here, on the contrary, all
was fresh, gay, and charming, while the air, refreshed and perfumed by a thousand
flowers, echoed with the merry songs of the birds. It was not necessary to feel
the enthusiasm of the historian or the archeologist to enable one to admire both
the coolness of the oasis and the magnificence of the wonders it contained.
Descending the back of the ravine, through heaps of ruined remains of terraces,
we stood at length on the threshold of the enclosure of the Koutub, in front of
Alladeen’s Gate, which was erected by the Sultan Ala-ood-deen, the wonderful
beauty of which might have inspired the celebrated author of the Wonderful
Lamp; the genie of the Roc could have created nothing more fairy-like. The
work of the Moors of Spain, in the Alhambra of Granada, is not to be com-
pared to this perfect gem of architecture. Here it is the stone itself, a red sand-
stone relieved by stripes of white marble, which gives the colouring; and the
delicate arabesques which cover it on all its sides are carved and inlaid: while,
at Granada, the whole effect is obtained by a combination of bright colours and
gildings, simply spread on ordinary brickwork. Moreover, there is no part of
the Moorish Alhambra in which we can find the same purity of outline, and
grandeur of proportions, that characterise in so high a degree the Gate of
Alladeen.

It forms a sort of square pavilion, perforated on each of its four sides by an
indentated arch, and surmounted by a very beautiful cupola; and the inner hall
is as richly decorated as the facades. We passed through this gate, and found
ourselves almost suddenly at the foot of the Koutub, which stands alone and
isolated in the centre of a beautiful paved court, proudly raising its head at a
height of two hundred and twenty-seven English feet.

Not one of our European monuments can give an idea of the impression felt
on standing for the first time before this colossus. The loftiest towers of our
cathedrals, those of Strasburg and Friburg included, always rest upon such
enormous basements, and terminate in such slender points, that their height
impresses one more by the statement of the figures which represent it than by
the effect itself. Here, on the contrary, the isolation of the building and the
simplicity of its outlines lend it the appearance of even larger dimensions than it
really possesses; and the architect himself has indulged his fancy for exaggerat-
ing the ordinary effect of perspective by giving the tower the form of a cylinder
lessened towards the summit, or of a portion of a very elongated cone, and by
dividing it into four storeys, diminishing in height as they are farther removed
from the ground. The diameter of its base is about forty-six feet, and of the
platform at the summit ten. Its ornamentation is singularly effective, although
very simple as a whole. Each storey, alternately covered with perpendicular,
round, or angular flutings, is surrounded by a broad girdle of flowers and
arabesques, and supports a massive balcony, covered with sculptures of great
beauty, standing out in strong relief from the tower. The entire building is of
red sandstone, with the exception of the upper part, which is encased in white
marble; and a fine winding staircase leads to the summit, which commands a
very extensive view of the plain, stretching to the north as far as modern Delhi,
and to the south reaching up to the environs of Bindrabad.

When the Mussulman general, Koutub-ood-deen-Eibeg, took possession of the
capital of the Rajpoot emperor, Pirtwi-Raj, he resolved to erect in the very centre
THE KOUTUB. 529

of the conquered city, in commemoration of his victory, a column which should
be an emblem of the triumph of Islam over Brahminism. By his command the
foundations of this tower of victory were laid in the year 1200; but the gigantic

DT
MO

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ee

 

THE TOWER OF KOUTUB, PLAIN OF DELHI.

¢

whdertaking, entrusted to Hindoo architects, was only completed twenty years
later, during the reign of the successor of Koutub-ood-deen. The two storeys
struck down by lightning in 1340 were erected again in 1368 by Feroze ITI.

: 21
£30 INDIA.

Such is the history of the tower of Koutub; but the Hindoos reject its
authenticity, and assert that the monument was raised, many centuries before the
appearance of the Mussulman, by a Rajpoot prince. It is certain that in respect
of its isolated position, and its division into storeys, it bears a far closer resem-
blance to the jaya-stamba, or columns of victory erected by the Hindoos, of
which the Kheerut Khoumb of Chittore is the pure type par excellence, than to
the minarets usually accompanying the Mahometan mosques. But there is
nothing surprising in the fact that the conqueror should have borrowed this
custom from the conquered, only giving it the characteristic stamp of Islamism;
and in this theory all can agree. The Koutub may be a jaya-stamba erected by
Hindoo architects, but on Mussulman plans.

As a good and faithful follower of Mahomet, the first care of Koutub was to
raise a temple in honour of the true God beside the column commemorating his
victory. He entrusted its execution to native architects, whom he first took care
to convert by main force, and he placed at their service the materials of the
pagan temples which had adorned the city. On entering the courtyard I was
struck by the resemblance it bore to the beautiful Arai-din-ka-Jhopra of Ajmere.
It was exactly the same arrangement—a fine court, surrounded by cloisters with
sculptured columns, preceding a large facade pierced by lofty Saracenic pointed
arches; and it also exhibited the same errors of the. architects. To avoid
repetition, however, I refer such of my readers as the subject may interest to
Chapter XVII. of my narrative, where I have already explained this circum-
stance.

The mosque of the Koutub is to that of Ajmere what the sumptuous cathedral
of one of our capitals is to the humble provincial church. The portals, colonnades,
and facades are of incomparable richness; arabesques, vases, and flowers covering
the walls and pillars in profusion. But, to the archeologist, all these beauties
fade before the monument which decorates the centre of the court—a simple iron
column, on which the tourist would scarcely cast a careless glance, but which is
none the less one of the wonders not only of India, but of the world.

It is a smooth cylindrical shaft of solid metal, from the pavement of the court
to the elegant capital which surmounts it measuring twenty-two feet. The reader
may say that this is not a matter to raise much enthusiasm; a column of cast
iron twenty-two feet in height is no great wonder. True; but this column is
sunk in the earth to a corresponding depth, which thus gives it an entire length of
forty-four feet. When I record that this gigantic piece of cast iron was moulded
in the fourth century of our era—that is, at a period when half the nations of

_ the world were ignorant even of the extraction of this metal—and when I add
that our own manufactories, with all their improved processes, only dared to
attempt a work as considerable as this for the first time about twenty years ago,
it will not be disputed that the iron column of Delhi may be classed among the
most marvellous works of antiquity. It is almost impossible to understand what
means the Indians could have employed in moulding and casting this enormous
incandescent bar, at a time when cranes and pestle-hammers were unknown.
The column bears a short inscription relating how King Dava, worshipper of
Vishnu, erected this monument in the year 317, to commemorate his victory over
the Bhalikas.

Here again the inscription contradicts the popular legend. According to the
LEGEND OF THE SERPENT. 531

latter, Anung Pal having possessed himself of all the northern part of India, a
learned Brahmin who lived at his court advised him to have a long iron nail
manufactured, and to bury it in the earth to a great depth, so as to pierce the head

it

lit

TRON COLUMN, MOSQUE OF KOUTUB.

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Sa

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of the serpent Séshnaga, which supports the world, and thus secure an eternal
duration to his dynasty. The nail was forged, and sunk into the earth on a spot
pointed out by the Brahmin. Some time after, tle wise counseller having left the
court of Anung Pal, the king began to be troubled by a multitude of doubts as to
532 INDIA,

the efficacy of the plan ordained by the Brahmin; he therefore caused the nail to
be withdrawn ; but what was the consternation of the king and all the spectators
on seeing its extremity tinged with blood! They hastened to replace the iron in
the earth, but this time the serpent was gone, and all efforts to fix the column
again were unavailing. The Pundit, arriving at this crisis, exclaimed, “O Rajah!
as nothing in the world could restore to this column the stability it has lost by
thy guilty curiosity, in like manner nothing can avert from thy dynasty its
approaching fall;” and, in fact, the Chohans soon after overthrew the empire of
the Touars of Delhi.

On leaving the mosque we yisited the tomb of the Emperor Altamsh; a
marvel of sculpture, the beauty of which the reader may realise from the engraving.
This tomb was erected in 1235, and it is the most ancient funereal monument
raised by Mussulmans in India. The roof, which was doubtless a dome, has now
completely disappeared, and the sun’s rays gild the elegant marble cenotaph of the
great emperor.

Such are the wonders (and I pass by in silence many other monuments of
less incontestable interest) which, grouped together in so narrow a space, make this
little point on the globe an unequal spot, to which nothing else can be compared.
I shall doubtless be accused of profanation. What of Nineveh and Karnak and
the Roman Forum ?—do you forget them? or have you never known them? it
will be said. I am far from wishing to attack the fame of these justly celebrated
places; I have gazed upon some of these ruins with all the emotion that so many
great memories were likely to create; but I confess to having stood unmoved
before the plastic beauty of three defaced columns, or those fragments of crumbling
brick walls in which the archeologist enthusiastically recognises the temple of
Fortune or the palace of Sardanapalus. How can those scattered ruins be
compared to this wondrous accumulation of the plain, where, in a space of some
hundred square yards, are found the tower of Koutub, Alladeen’s Gate, the colon-
nades of Pirtwi-R4j, the great mosque, Dava’s lat, and Altamsh’s mausoleum ?
These names and memories, it is true, awaken no sympathy in us; our history
knows them not: but ought we to pride ourselves on this indifference to the great
deeds and works of one of the most important branches of our Indo-European
family? Nay, should we not hope that the day is not far distant when our
young men will have to learn the history of the great people of Asia as well as
that of the little tribes of the Grecian peninsula ?

I shall not stop to record the daily memoranda of the week we passed in this
spot, where so many beauties attracted and delighted us; but the episode of this
too brief stay has always remained one of the most vivid and pleasing memories
of my journey. As soon as the day broke, we used to run through the thick
groves which now cover the site of the houses and bazaars of the departed city,
inhaling long breaths of the fresh and balmy air of the lovely month of February,
the finest of all months under an Indian sky. The cool, almost cold nights left
a veil of bluish mist over the open country in the early morning, which the sun
dispersed like floating ribbons round the tops of the trees, or massed in the bottom
of the ravines, creating a thousand strange mirages on the surface. Before the
heat of the day commenced, I installed my working-tent near the ruins, and busied
myself with my photographs, while Schaumburg fixed upon his water-colour paper
the dazzling hues of the lovely picture. Then at midday, extended at full-length
DAILY ROUTINE. 533

under the colonnades of Pirtwi- Raj, we passed the scorching hours gazing on that
little court, and evoking all the brilliant scenes of which it was the theatre, from
the time when King Dave, surrounded by his courtiers, sunk the sacred nail in

MOSQUE OF THE EMPEROR ALTAMSH.

iy

 

the earth, to the day when the lame Tartar, the unwearied Tamerlane, came here
and bowed down before Allah, bathing his knees in the blood which covered the
pavement of the temple; and beside the iron column a venerable old fig-tree spread
its centenarian branches over the court, which it filled with a luminous shade;
5 INDIA.

aged and unmoved spectators of the scenes which our imagination endeavoured to
recall to life. :

In the evening we left the shelter of the groves, and strolled among the bare
rocks as far as the ramparts of Lal-Kéte, the ancient Hindoo citadel—a stately
line of walls, whose perpendicular heights, leaning against the hill, could not
resist the saintly fury of the missionaries of the Koran. From this point we
could overlook the extreme limits of this plain so rich in memories. Before us
Mehrowli, the favourite retreat of Aurungzeb, and the refuge of the last of the
Mogul empresses, displayed its towers, its domes, and its chatris in the midst of
a cluster of trees on the slope of a little mount; beside us Begumpore, a modest
village, grouped its huts round a superb mosque of. the period of the Toghlucks ;
and finally, in the distance, to the south as well as to the north, the view faded
into an horizon of tombs, cenotaphs, and obelisks.

After Koutub there yet remained one ruined town for us to visit, in order to
complete the series of the ancient Delhis. This was Toghluckabad, the capital of
Shah Toghluck, situated on the banks of the Jumna. This prince, burning with
the restless love of change which has characterised all the Padishahs of India,
evacuated the city of Koutub, and established himself with his subjects on the site
which he had chosen for his new capital. But Feroze III., one of his successors,
in his turn deserted the town, and led its inhabitants farther north, where he
founded Ferozabad, which we had already visited.

The walls of Toghluckabad are built on a chain of rocks, and completely
surround a plateau five miles in circumference. These ramparts are massively
constructed of blocks of bluish granite; huge round towers rising from the base of
the hill support the walls, and impart a look of severe and imposing grandeur to
the long line of fortifications, which neither the ravages of time nor the vegetation
which covers it in many places have been able to eftace. All the works of
Toghluck are stamped with a peculiar sombre and Titanic appearance, faithfully
representing the prince, whom history has depicted at once as a distinguished
and refined man of letters and taste, and as a fierce and pitiless tyrant. On
entering the town by one of its fourteen gates, a stern and massive gateway, you
are struck by the grand though rude and heavy buildings of the city, which the
fancy of a single man created. Curiously enough it is not in the least Indian; ~
the embattled turrets, the thick walls, and narrow doors remind one rather of the
ruins of our feudal castles on a gigantic scale. A large lake, enclosed within a
continuous line of ramparts and forts, once bathed the walls of the town, which
it protected on the south from attack; but its waters have long since dried up,
leaving a fertile plain in the centre of which rises a rock, once an island, which
is connected with the citadel by a long bridge of twenty-seven arches. On this
rock, surrounded by a cyclopean wall, is the mausoleum of the Emperor Toghluk;
an edifice of extreme simplicity, the almost pyramidical inclination of whose
walls, combined with the Egyptian solidity of structure, renders it a true specimen
of that sovereign’s peculiar style of architecture. It is, however, a monument
worthy of a great warrior; everything about it is simple and grand; and it is
only to be regretted that it should have lost the original charm of its romantic
situation.

The mausoleum contains the cenotaphs of Toghluk IL, his wife, and his
successor Mahomed. The latter possesses an unenviable celebrity for cruelty in
A GOOD COUSIN. 535

the history of India. His nephew and successor, Feroze Toghluk, having witnessed
his acts of violence and oppression, sought out, after his death, all the people
whom his cousin had despoiled and maltreated; and, after having indemnified
them, he made them individually sign deeds of absolute pardon for all the ill-
-treatment they had suffered at the fands of the late king. He then collected all
these documents, and had them placed in Mahomed’s coffin, in order that at the
Last Judgment he might have these records of justification ready to hand. At
any rate, it was a fanciful but generous idea to efface the evil wrought by a man
during his lifetime, and to endeavour, even after his death, to let him profit by
the pardon of his victims.
CHAPTER LIII.

THE PUNFZAUB AND THE HIMALAYAS.

Paniput, the Battlefield of India——Kurnoul.—The Plains of the Puanjaub.—Thunnesir.—
Umballa.x—The Shawl Manufactories of Loudiana.—The River Beas.—Umritsur, the
Holy City of the Sikhs.—Lahore.—Peshawur.—The North-Western Frontier.—First View
of the Himalayas.—The Jampdn.—The Simla Paharis——A Summer Capital.—The Ascent
of the Himalayas.—Jacko’s Peak.—Meerut.—Agra.

a N the 14th of February we returned to Delhi, and I had already
commenced preparations for my intended excursion across the
Punjaub, when my companion fell dangerously ill. The jungle
fever, from which we had both suffered on more than one occasion,
now attacked him with such violence that it would have been
= impossible for him to continue the march for some time to come.
I therefore advised him to return by rail to Agra, where he would be sure to find,
with our friends the Gilmores, the reposé and care necessary to his recovery. In
spite of the great disappointment which he felt at not being able to accompany
me on my expedition to the north, he resolved to follow my advice, and left for
Agra on the 16th February.

On my return from the station, whither I had accompanied Schaumburg, I
went in search of some sort of conveyance to take me to Umballa, from which I
hoped to reach Lahore. The service of dék-gharis was in a state of disorganisation,
for they were on the point of opening a railway from Delhi to Lahore. Un-
luckily for me, therefore, I had no choice in the matter, but was obliged to content
myself with a wretched four-wheeled vehicle drawn by two hacks, which were
offered to me at a rather high price.

I started at five o’clock on the morning of the 17th. The horses went at a
good pace ; and, leaving Delhi by the Cashmere gate, we followed the high road
which runs right through the Punjaub as far as Peshawur. During the morning
we passed over interminable and monotonous plains, the bare and rocky soil of
which seemed to be unfit to produce any vegetation, and was occasionally covered
with a slight sprinkling of saline crystals, which at a distance had the appearance
of hoar frost; and only at long intervals we sped by large villages, surrounded
by belts of well-cultivated land. These are the results of irrigation ; the water
being brought by means of canals and water-wheels, the monotonous creaking of
which one hears issuing from every grove of trees. In fact, it is a part of the
country which the traveller would do well to pass through by railway. At two
o'clock we reached Paniput, where the country assumed a brighter aspect. The
fields and trees no longer disputed possession of the land with barren plains and

   
UMRITSUR, 537

rocks ; and the tender shoots of millet, sorghum, and other cereals already covered
the ground. Many a time has the fate of India been determined amid these
gardens in this beautiful district. And what a lovely battlefield does it present,
without rivers, ravines, or forests! It was here that Koutub in 1 193, Tamerlane
in 1397, Baber in 1526, Nadir-Sh%h in 1739, and Ahmed Dooranee in 1761,
each in his turn, changed the destinies of the mighty empire.

Paniput is a town of great antiquity, and contains some curious buildings and
monuments worthy of inspection ; but, as I wished to reach Kurnoul that evening,
we only stopped to change horses; and at six o’clock my vehicle set me down in
front of the bungalow of Kurnoul, situated in the English cantonments. ‘The
town, which is a short distance farther on, is hardly worth seeing, although it
possesses a fine mosque ; and it is, as Jacquemont says, the dirtiest town in India.

I continued my journey the following day, and passed through a country very
similar to what I had seen the day before; and at noon I reached Thunnesir.
Leaving my carriage at the relay, I hastened into the town, and, hurrying through
the bazaars, made my way to the celebrated lake of Khourkét, situated in the
vicinity of the walls. This lake is celebrated throughout the whole of Northern
India; the great battle between the Kouranas and the Pandavas, which forms the
subject of- the grand poem of the Mahabharata, having been fought on its banks.
I expected to find them covered with temples and ruins, but I was disappointed.
The lake is a fine sheet of water, about a mile long, containing an island which is
joined to terra firma by two ruined causeways; and there are some wide flights of
steps down to the water, in which numerous pilgrims were disporting themselves;
but there was no building of any importance.

The same evening I reached Umballa, which is one of the most important
commercial towns in the North-West of India. Its bazaars present a most
animated appearance, and overflow with all the sumptuous productions of the
East ; but the town itself has nothing worthy of remark. Accordingly I immedi-
" ately set out to find.a vehicle to take me to the extreme point which the railway
from Lahore to Delhi had as yet reaclied.

After passing through the monotonous country of Sirhind, on the 21st of
February I reached Loudiana, where I stopped to visit the factory recently insti-
tuted for the manufacture of shawls called Cashmeres. The workmen employed
therein are inhabitants of Cashmere, and the textile material is identical with that
used for the same purpose at Srinuggur ; so that the shawls of Loudiana are worth
as much as the real Cashmeres, and cost much less; in fact, most of the Cashmeres
sold in Europe come from the Punjaub, principally from Loudiana and Umritsur.

The following day I reached the Beas, and thence the railway conveyed me
to the celebrated Umritsur on the same day.

Umritsur is the holy city of the Sikhs; and there, in the midst of the beau-
tiful Lake of Immortality—the Umrita-sara—stands the basilica of marble and
gold, which the gooroo Ram Das built with the alms collected in a pilgrimage
across the Punjaub. The temple itself is a quadrangular edifice, built in a hand-
some style of Jat architecture, and crowned with a flat dome surrounded by
numerous little belfries ; and it is connected with one of the banks of the reservoir
by a wide causeway which, together with the temple, is composed of the most
beautiful white marble ; contrasting with which, the dome and belfries look like a

mass of gold.
538 INDIA.

With the exception of this temple, Umritsur possesses no monument worthy
of notice, though a visit to its bazaars will repay the traveller—especially the
quarter where are concentrated the manufactories of Cashmere shawls.

The railway took me in a few hours from Umritsur to Lahore, the ancient
capital of the Punjaub, which is at present the chief town of a vast English terri-
tory including, besides the Punjaub, Western Affghanistan and the lower valleys
of the Western Himalayas. Like Delhi and Agra, Lahore is full of monuments,
dating from the Mogul epoch and from the reign of Runjeet Sing; but, with the
exception of the tomb of Jehanghir, not one of these buildings can be compared
with those I have de-
scribed elsewhere. My
stay here was therefore
brief; and, resuming the
dak, I started for Pesha-
wur, the extreme limit of
English territory to the
north-west. It took me
three days to reach the
Indus, which I crossed
near Attok on a bridge of
boats, and I arrived at
Peshawur on the follow-
ing day. Here I could
examine that terrible Aff-
ghan frontier which none
can pass without inviting
certain death. I desired
greatly to extend my ex- ,
cursion to the famous
Khyber Pass, but I was
told it was impossible—
an English officer having
been assassinated in its
proximity only a few days
previous to my arrival.

I was very near Cash-

OLD SIKH. mere, but a fatality forbade

my access to the beautiful

country: the cholera was raging at the time in Srinuggur, and the English
Government had been obliged to establish a cordon sanitaire on the frontier,
suspending the distribution of the permits, without which Europeans cannot
enter upon the territory of the maharajah. The season, too, was not sufficiently
advanced to admit of my crossing with safety the high chain of the Pir-Pan-
djal, a formidable barrier of glaciers interposed between the burning plains of
the Punjaub and the cool valleys of Cashmere. I was therefore compelled to take
to the road towards Umballa, where I arrived on the roth of March. Here I
was very agreeably surprised to find Schaumburg, who, having succeeded in get-

 
A SUMMER CAPITAL. “539

ting rid of his fever, had hastened to join me; and on the 12th we set out on our
road towards Simla,

This town, which is little more than a large village, buried in a ravine of the
Himalayas, becomes during six months every year the capital of India. As soon
as the severe heat begins to be felt®in the plain, all the English official colony of
the Bengal Presidency hastily take the road leading to the fashionable sanitorium.
The Governor-General of India instals himself here with all his staff, and is very

 

BRIDGE OF BOATS ON THE INDUS.

naturally followed by his ministers with their departments. Calcutta then becomes
reduced to the rank of a mere provincial town, and from the end of March to the
beginning of October the name of Simla alone is seen displayed at the head of the
Official Gazette and of the viceregal decrees. This annual emigration of the
Government is one of the strangest things imaginable, and the expense it occasions
is very large. It is only a few years since that a railroad has passed over three-

quarters of the distance from the metropolis.
We hastened to visit Simla before the commencement of the fashionable
540 INDIA.

season ; and now being once more mere ordinary tourists, without any local rajah
to receive us with the firing of cannon, I not unreasonably dreaded the terrible
reckonings of the Himalayan hotel-keepers, who are renowned for their rapacity.
When I say no rajah was there to receive us, it is not that native princes are
wanting on the mountains: on the contrary, they are to be found in swarms;
every peak, with its four villages suspended to its sides, constitutes a miniature
kingdom: but their splendours faintly tempt us.

A carriage conveyed us in a few hours from Umballa to Kalka, a large village.
situated at the foot of the mountain; where the heights which unfolded them-
selves before us had as yet none of the astounding grandeur which the mind
always associates with the word Himalayas. They were fine mountains of
moderate height, covered with thick forests, in the heart of a fertile country; but
nevertheless, in the far distance, a noble line of ridges, on which the sun illumin-
ated the large white patches of the glaciers, showed us that we had attained only
to the lowest steps of this gigantic accumulation of mountains, whose vast system,
covering a surface equal to several times that of France, raises one of its mighty
crests, laden with snow, twenty-three thousand nine hundred feet above the level
of the sea.

Kalka within the last few years has become an important station, tourists
being compelled to stop here before undertaking the ascent of the mountain up to
Simla, which is many miles away; and there were no other means of getting over
the distance (but I assume that tlhe English have since commenced the works for
a railway ascending to Simla), except by ponies or the jampan.

The jampan is one of the specialities of the Himalayas, from Darjeeling to
Srinuggur. It is a sort of primitive sedan-chair; in short, a wooden arm-chair
placed between four double shafts, and sheltered by a light oilskin roofing; and
this vehicle is an advantageous substitute for the palanquin, which obliges the
traveller to remain in an uneasy attitude during the ascent. The porters placed
behind support the poles on their shoulders, and those in front bear them on their
arms, so that the seat maintains its horizontal position.

Schaumburg and I each got into a jamp4n, and we left Kalka amidst the
vociferations of our porters, who indulged themselves in a sort of grotesque race.

These good people are Paharis, a generic term applied by the Hindoos of the
plain to all mountaineers, without distinction of race or tribe. Short and tbick-
set, they are repulsively ugly. Their faces have all the characteristics of the
Mongol type; the flattened nose, framed in high cheek-bones which almost hide
the small eyes, slightly drawn at the corners; and the wide, well-furnished mouth
opening above a chin where the beard grows in thin irregular patches. At the
sight of these people we felt we had crossed the frontier, and were no longer in
India. In fact, we were entering Thibet—Thibet, over which it is true the
Hindoo has established his rule, but whose inhabitants are really brethren of the
tribes that people the plateaux of Ladak and of Great Thibet, and extend to the
very heart of China.

We had scarcely left Kalka before we ascended a fine road which wound
gently through the woods for about an hour until it reached a large plateau, where
we began to command a magnificent view both of the plain and of the chain itself,
A circular glance successively embraced the Sutlej, with Amballa and its uniform
plains; the Doab as far as Hurdwar; then the long line of the Sirmour moun-
CHANGE OF CLIMATE AND VEGETATION. 541

tains, all covered with woods and glaciers, which looked like white clouds; and,
finally, the celebrated peak of Jacko, showing us the site of Simla. But what
positively excited our ecstasies was the superb vegetation surrounding us. Surely,

 

{HE SALT MOUNTAINS OF RAWAL PINDI.

had just accomplished could not have
egions to a temperate zone! Instead
encompassed us ‘in the morning,

speculated we, the few hours’ journey we
transported us suddenly from the tropical r
of the palm-trees, taras, and mango-trees which
542 INDIA.

we were passing through a dark forest of firs; while at distant intervals appeared
oaks and plane-trees, and the slopes of the ravines were covered with rhododen-
drons and box. It was no longer India, but Europe.

How wonderful and beautiful it all seemed! Our eyes could not feast enough
on the sight of this vegetation, reminding us of our native land. To add to the
illusion, the villages we saw seemed to have been transported from some valley in
Switzerland or the Tyrol: the low wooden houses, with their stone-covered roofs,
were real chalets; and the temples near them, with their light-boarded bell-turrets,
approximated, as it were, both to the Chinese and Swedish types. By way of
climax to these various details, it was cold. It was hardly half-past two o’clock
when we entered Kussowli, and, in spite of the sun, I felt the keenness of the air,
which forced me to wrap myself in my travelling rug, and at times, on passing
through the shade, I actually shivered. Even the mountaineers we met at every
instant were warmly clad. They wore trousers and woollen vests, and some even
had a sort of black felt hat; while the women were clothed in thick garments,
on which they displayed brass and silver rings and a whole collection of
ornaments.

After passing Kussowli, the road was a constant succession of very steep
ascents and descents, revealing fresh beauties at every turn. Now it was a torrent
winding at the bottom of a narrow gorge, embedded between perpendicular rocks,
which we crossed on a light suspended bridge; and next a ravine decked with
flowers, over which hung large half-uprooted deodara pines, or a peaceful smiling
valley animated by a picturesque villave.

Towards six o’clock night began to set in rapidly, and with it arose a cold icy
wind, whistling in gusts, and every moment threatening to extinguish our torches.
My rug seemed insufficient: I wrapped myself in it as best I could, but without
being able to get warm. It was like entering Siberia, Our little party journeyed
on silently, picking our way cautiously along the road, which was dark as pitch
with the heavy shade of the trees. At last we perceived lights: it was Simla.
We had changed coolies twice on the road; but our porters exhibited their delight
none the less by their cries of “ Haré, haré, haré, bhai!” keeping time with their
quickened pace, and rousing all the echoes of the neighbourhood.

We were taken to the Royal Hotel, a fine spacious chalet, in which we were
soon installed before a good flaming fire, warming our limbs, which were completely
benumbed with the cold. The hotel-keeper, an Englishman, welcomed us as the
first visitors of the season, having arrived himself only a fortnight before; and he
assured us that he found the snow lying in the streets of Simla. With what
comfort, too, we retired to rest in the European fashion, in a good bed, with
blankets and sheets ;—yes, sheets! From the 12th March 1868, it was almost
exactly five years, to a day, since I had lain down between sheets, or had any other
couch than a folding bed, or bed of Indian reeds, only too happy to get either the
one or the other. On finding myself, therefore, in such a bed, watching the bright
fire flaming up the chimney, and reviewing the experiences of the day, I had to
pinch myself more than once to be thoroughly convinced that I was not asleep and
dreaming of my own country.

The next morning we were up at an early hour, and, after a sliht collation, left
the hotel. Before us, or rather at our feet,—for the hotel occupies an elevated
situation,—lay the native town, a mass of small wooden houses forming a rounded
: SIMLA., 543
group, the culminating point of which is occupied by the Anglican church, a

modest building, without any style or pretension ; and under the trees and among
the slopes were visible on all sides the elegant dwellings and bungalows of the

‘

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yes

S
.

iy wi ve

I. A An I

 

VIEW IN THE WESTERN HIMALAYAS.
great Indian functionaries. Then, on the opposite side of a deep ravine, rose
huge masses covered with dark vegetation, with soft-rounded contours, which were
piled one above another up to the beautiful line of the glacier which closed the
horizon.
544 INDIA.

The view was fine; it was even sublime and grand; but nevertheless it was
slightly disappointing. It was not quite all that one had pictured the Himalayas
to be; and our own Alps or Pyrenees afford scenes of equal beauty. It is fair
to remark, however, that we here were only at the first outworks of these giant
mountains; and, before passing judgment on the Himalayas, one should have
the opportunity of contemplating them from the depths of the valleys of Nepaul
and Sikkim. This pleasure was not in store for us; I therefore intend prudently
to reserve my appreciation for the day when it may at length be granted to me.

Simla was still very dull; the stream of emigrants had not yet begun their
invasion: so after having devoted some days to different excursions, to Jacko’s
Peak and the surrounding valleys, we returned to Umballa; this time, however,
taking the Subathou road, which is_infinitely more convenient than that of
Kalka.

From Umballa we returned to Delhi, whence we made a deviation to Meerut,
a large and important city situated in the centre of the Upper Dodb, in the
middle of vast bare plains as destitute of interest as the city itself; and on the
24th March we re-entered Agra for the third, and doubtless the last, time.
CHAPTER LIV.
THE LAND OF AOUDH,
Oude and Aotidh.—Cawnpore.—The Revolt of 1857 and Nana Sahib.—The Bloody Chamber.—

The Cistern and the Monument.—The Ganges,—The Pilgrims.—Lucknow.—The City.—The
Kaiser Bagh.—The Housseinabad Imambara,

eves

ae” ARCH 30TH.—To-day we set out definitely for Calcutta, but
: with the resolution of taking at least three months to travel
over the long distance which still separated us from that city.
We should now be traversing a region rivalling the most
=e * favoured countries of Europe in civilisation—the railway every-
ice “where at our disposal, and the hotels numerous; and as we
could dispense with the cumbrous appendages which were of such use to us in
Rajasthan, we sold our tents and horses, discharged our numerous servants ; and,
keeping only my old bearer Dévi, who is both major-domo and assistant photo-
grapher, and a khansamah, we proceeded with this modest train, long before
daybreak, towards the station of Toundla.

“Where are we going?” said Schaumburg, as we reached the station, for he
never was in favour of closely conning guide-books.

“We have the embarras du choix,’ I answered. “Allahabad, Benares,
Lucknow. We have plenty of celebrated and interesting cities to visit along
the East Indian line, and we have plenty of time as well. Let us keep faithful
to the principle we laid down from the outset,—never to be in a hurry, and to
begin at the beginning. Let us take our tickets for Cawnpore, and first of all
visit the land of Aofdh, and then decide about the rest.”

“Where do you find Aotidh?” rejoined my companion, rather confused at
having to confess his ignorance of geographical matters.

Many people in France would put the same question to me if I spoke to them
of Aotidh, who would be in no way embarrassed if I gave this country the name
of Oude. Have we not had the Queen of Oude in Paris? Precisely; but this
word, which the English write Oude, is pronounced by them Aoidh, and by the
Indians Aouddh; it is more rational, therefore, at once to write the word Aofdh,
as it is pronounced. The engine was puffing, and carrying us away across the
monotonous plains of the Dodb, while we were still continuing our discussion
on the pronunciation and orthography of the geographical names of India. This
is a very complicated question, in which every one is right and wrong at the same
time, and which is still far from being decided. The English, on arriving in the

country a century ago, adopted a system for transcribing the native words into
2M

  
546 INDIA.

European letters, which would have been a very feasible one for any other nation
whose language might have been more adapted for such a method—that of
phonetic orthography, or the transcription of words as the ear receives them.
Unfortunately, as all who have a knowledge of the English language will under-
stand, the pronunciation of this tongue is so entirely devoid of rules that each
vowel and syllable is articulated in a different manner, according to its position
in the word, or even according to simple caprice.

After a tedious journey we arrived at Cawnpore, which is one of the principal
towns of the ancient kingdom of Aotdh. Situated on the right bank of the
Ganges, in the centre of a vast agricultural district, it has great commercial
importance, and numbers not less than sixty thousand inhabitants; and the
English have established here a military station for seven thousand men. This
would be about all we should have to say respecting this town, and the tourist
would certainly not go out of his road to see its long, monotonous, and perfectly
regular tree-planted line of bazaars, breathing wealth and prosperity, but with
nothing picturesque about them, if the terrible events of which Cawnpore was
the scene in 1857 had not shed a sad celebrity over its name. There is one
name especially which will remain eternally connected: in human execration with
that of Cawnpore—that of the odious Nana Sahib, the despicable assassin of so
many innocent victims, who, escaping the just punishment of his crimes, is, if still
alive, now ending his days in concealment. It is not my province to retrace in
these pages the tragedy of Cawnpore, the news of which horrified all Europe in
1857; I have only to recall its chief details.

It is known that when the sepoys of the Cawnpore garrison revolted, Nana
Sahib, a Mahratta prince, put himself at the head of the insurrection. His first
act was to assassinate in cold blood a hundred and thirty-six unhappy Europeans
—men, women, and children, who, deceived by the sympathy he had always
displayed for the English up to that time, had come within his power. He then
came and besieged the garrison of Cawnpore, which had taken refuge, with the
women and children, in the military hospital, a slender brick building. The little
troop, consisting of about two hundred and fifty men, and as many women, never-
theless offered a courageous resistance from behind this fragile rampart to all the
attacks of Nana’s army. Finally, growing impatient of the time consumed by this °
unexpected resistance, Nana had recourse to a stratagem. He proposed to grant
to the English general the honours of war, boats to convey him with all his com-
panions to Allahabad, and provisions sufficient to maintain them up to that time.
These proposals were received with some degree of mistrust by the besieged ;
but, at an interview with General Wheeler, Nana Sahib having sworn that he
would faithfully observe all the stipulations agreed. upon, the capitulation was
accepted.

“On the morning of the 27th of June,” relates an eye-witness, “the women
and children and the wounded were conveyed on elephants to the wharf, where
about twenty boats, large and small, awaited them; and the healthy men arrived
on the same spot, after having defiled before the besieging army with their arms
and baggage. All having embarked, they joyfully rushed to the provisions which
had been prepared for them, and abandoned themselves to the course of the stream.
At that moment a battery, that had long been prepared on the banks, was un-
masked, and fired its grape-shot upon them. The smaller boats sank, others
THE MASSACRE AT CAWNPORE. * g47

ee

pe by Spann Only, the boat containing
General Wheeler succeeded in getting off by aa of hard rowing; it was cua
largest of all. Unfortunately, the haat ran aground at a short Gaines off; and
all “those who were on board, sixty Biropeans, twenty-five ladies, a little be, and
three young girls, were brought back prisoners to Cawnpore.”

All the men were massacred on the’ spot, before the eyes of Nana Sahib; and
as for the women and children, in number a hundred and twenty-two, including
the captures made from
the other boats, they were
shut up in the town-
dwelling of the terrible
Mahratta prince. After
nearly a month’s captivity,
on the eve of the British
troops approaching Cawn-
pore, these unfortunate
victims were delivered-up.
to the knives of their
assassins, and their still
palpitating bodies were
thrown into a well near
their prison. An English
officer has left us an
affecting description of the
place that witnessed this
horrible scene.

“We had scarcely
entered Cawnpore,” writes
he, “ when we ran to seek
for the poor women who ra
we knew were in the _ Mii tl

i : iy
bands of the tious Nexo;
their frightful execution.
Tortured by a_ terrible
thirst for vengeance, and
deeply impressed by the
thought of the atrocious
sufferings these unhappy
victims must have endured, we felt strange and savage ideas awakening in us.
Heated and half mad, we rushed to the sad scene of their martyrdom. The
coagulated blood, mingled with nameless remains, covered the floor of the little
room in which they had been locked, and reached up to our ankles. Locks of
long silky hair, torn shreds of dresses, little children’s shoes and playthings strewed
the : stained ground. The walls, all smeared with blood, bore traces of their horrible
agony. I picked up a small Prayer-book, on the fly-leaf of which were written
these affecting entries :—‘ June 27th, left the boats...... July 7th, prisoners

 

MEMORIAL AT CAWNPORE.
548 INDIA,

of Nana: fatal day!’ But these were not the only horrors that awaited us. Far
more horrible still was the sight of the deep narrow well, where the mutilated
remains of these weak and tender beings were heaped !” ~

Accompanied by the old soldier who acted as keeper of the garden which now
covers the scene of this frightful crime, a sergeant who had escaped the massacre
by a miracle, we passed in review all the memories of this melancholy drama:
the tree, covered by a superb cloak of creeping plants, at the foot of which the
English were massacred; the hut in which they defended themselves so bravely ;
and, finally, the well, which is now surmounted by a beautiful marble statue from
the chisel of the sculptor Marochetti, standing in the midst of a fine Gothic .
enclosure.

We then proceeded towards the Ganges, to see the spot where General
Wheeler and his companions fell victims to the ambush. A few minutes’ walk
brought us to the picturesque wharf, the Indian name of which, Suttee-Chaora-
Ghat, or the broad staircase of funerals, seemed to have been predestined. Still,
it is a charming spot ; magnificent sacred fig-trees spreading their long branches
above the handsome flight of stairs, the steps of which bury themselves beneath
the calm and limpid waters of the stream. :

But these dark souvenirs made me forget that it was the first time my eyes
had rested on the Ganges, the noble and majestic foster-father of Hindostan. Hail,
Father Ganges! Sri Ganga Jee! as its worshippers say. Is there a river in
the world that can rival it? Behold it here now, 954 miles from Calcutta, and
still its broad deep mass of intense blue rolls on slowly and majestically, filling
its vast bed of nearly half a mile in breadth. Still its course appears furrowed
by innumerable vessels and steamboats whistling past. There is no doubt but
that the Amazon, the Mississippi, the Niger, and some other rivers are navigable
over as considerable a distance, and display quite as startling masses of water;
but can these streams, known but yesterday, and impetuously dashing across
barbarous regions, be compared to this sacred river, so prodigal of its wealth,
whose waters have witnessed the soaring flight of Aryan civilisation, the first
footsteps of our arts, sciences, and religious worship? The word Ganges must
awaken in the most ignorant mind visions of fabulous riches, fantastic pagodas,
nabobs streaming with gold, and all that long procession of wonders, the distant
reflection of which alone in all ages fired the imagination of the inhabitants of
the humble West, from Cyrus and Alexander to our own navigators, who saw
nothing on all sides but Indies, either cis- or trans-Gangetic. Even in these
days, when a traveller returns from India, the first question asked of him is,
“ Have you seen the Ganges?” To have been in India and not to have seen the
Ganges would be an anachronism. It is truly a great and noble river, which
cannot be viewed for the first time without a certain degree of emotion.

After this pilgrimage to the Memorial Garden and to the Ganges, nothing
further remained to be seen at Cawnpore. Nevertheless, the town is of respect-
able antiquity, for a clan of Kshatryas assumed the title of Cawnpouriyana long
before the Christian era; but the monuments, if there ever were any in this plain,
on which it would be difficult to find a pebble, have completely disappeared since
the Mussulman occupation. The same evening, therefore, we crossed the Ganges
to get to the railway-station, recently established to connect this point with
Lucknow ; and soon the train bore us along over the smiling country of Aoddh.
LUCKNOW. ee

We arrive at our destination at nine o’clock, and a carriage took us to a good
hotel situated in the English cantonments.

March 31st.—There are few towns in India of which the first appearance
charms the stranger more than Luclgnow. A spacious park interspersed with fine
lawns of turf, in which a thousand little rivulets wind, surrounds the city on all
sides, while its innumerable monuments display their fantastic outlines above
the clusters of trees. Our earliest promenade among its bazaars in no degree
removed this favourable first impression. The streets are wide, regularly built,
and lined with good-looking houses with wooden balconies and flat terraces ;
fountains surrounded with trees ornament the principal cross-ways, and impart
an agreeable coolness to the air; the crowds pressing along the streets are cleanly
and picturesquely attired; the people are agreeable and prepossessing; and the
shops are crammed with articles which entice the eye.

Lucknow, or Lakhnau, according to the rectified orthography, bore the name
of Lakchanavati so far back as forty centuries ago, and was the capital of Laksh-
mana, brother of Rama. Although this antiquity is incontestable, the present
city is one of the most modern in India, and owes its existence only to the
creation of the Mussulman empire of Aotidh in the seventeenth century.

It was then only a plain provincial town, destitute of monuments; but the
kings of Aotidh, ambitious of eclipsing the capital of the Great Moguls, soon
raised it by their reckless outlays to a degree of splendour which was really
extraordinary ; though it is true that this splendour was entirely fictitious, and
that the immense buildings erected by these kings, if they surpassed those of
Delhi by their startling proportions, are far from possessing the same artistic
value. They are eye-deceptions, stage scenery, mere frameworks covered with
tiles and gilding, which a few years of neglect have sufficed to transform into
pitiful ruins.

The most important work of the kings of Aotidh is their palace, or rather the
vast assemblage of palaces, covering a great extent of ground, which served as
their official residence. The name borne by this vast royal city, Kaiser Bagh—
an eccentric union of the German word kaiser, emperor, and the Indian word
bdgh, garden—is an exact representation of this odd medley of architecture, which
sprang entirely from the brain of a French corporal, and in which an Italian
facade is seen framing Moorish arcades, crowned by the spire of a Hindoo temple
surrounded by Chinese bell-turrets.

The real author or instigator of the wonders of Lucknow was a French
adventurer whose history is worth relating. Claude Martin, or Martine, was a
poor Breton soldier, who, having been sent with his regiment to the French
settlement at Pondicherry, there attained his rank of corporal. It seems that this
elevated grade did not satisfy his ambition, for one fine day he left his regiment,
and plunged into the interior of the country. After a thousand adventures, which
he has disdained to transmit to posterity, Martin at length arrived at the court of
the King of Aofidh, and succeeded in obtaining the rank of captain in the royal
army. What means this obscure officer made use of to win his master’s favour,
no one can tell; but the fact is that, about the year 1 780, he added to his official
title of commander-in-chief of all the forces the not less valuable one of chief
favourite of the king. Martin, who had brought with him from France some
notions of architecture, inspired by the sight of our palaces, devoted himself to
ies INDIA.

the reform of Indian architectural art; and it is to him, or to his school, that the
greater part of the edifices which adorn Lucknow owe their origin. This inoffen-
sive mania is, to say the truth, the only thing the good man can be reproached
with ; for, having acquired an immense fortune, he employed it almost exclusively
in the foundation of schools. To him are owing the celebrated schools known
under the name of La Martiniére, which provide an excellent gratuitous education
for some thousands of children. In short, Frenchmen have no reason to blush at

 

PAVILION OF LANKA, IN THE KAISER BAGH, LUCKNOW.

the name of the benevolent corporal, and his charitable works deserve that he
should be forgiven for his sins against good taste.

It will not be expected that I should vive a detailed description of the Kaiser
Bagh. I shall limit myself, therefore, to presenting the reader with a sketch of
the pavilion of Lanka, one of its least ridiculous parts. As for the rest, I should
have to pass in review a collection of grotesqne mouldings, wire carcases, plated
balls, and all the most anomalous objects.

To the north of the Kaiser Bagh flows the charming river Goomtee, the most
sinuous stream of water in the world. Following the course of the river, we
THE GREAT IMAMBARA. 551

arrived at the ruins of the Residence, the old palace of the English Residents at
the Court of Lucknow. It was here, when surprised by the revolt of 1857, that
the European inhabitants of the city sought refuge, and the scanty garrison joined
them under the command of Sir Henry Lawrence. The Residence, a high, three-
storeyed brick house, was altogether unsuited for making a defence ; nevertheless, the
little troup valiantly sustained a siege there against considerable forces. The bombs
of the besiegers had reduced the house to a few fragments of smoking walls, and
Lawrence, with the greater number of the defenders, had fallen before the siege
was raised. In memory
of this heroic resistance,
the English have left the
ruins of the Residence
standing in the state in
which they were left by
Lord Clyde; and no~
monument could have
recorded more worthily
the courage of this hand-
ful of brave men defend-
ing themselves for months
in such a hovel.

A little farther on
stands the citadel, Mutchi
Bhowan, which is entered
by a very fine gate, highly
ornamented, the Roumi
Durwaza, or Gate of Con-
stantinople. Within the
walls of the little fortress
stands the real marvel
of Lucknow, the Great
Imambara, a vast edifice
placed on the summit of
a lofty terrace, and of
really grand appearance,
with its long line of walls
crowned by bell-turrets. It
was erected towards the
close of the eighteenth
century by the Nawab
Vuzeer Azof-ood-doulah. This prince, wishing to immortalise his name, invited all
the architects of India to compete in the erection of a monument, the plan of which
should surpass in beauty everything that had. ever been attempted before. The
architect Kai-fiat-oulla carried off the prize; and, while contemplating his work
at the present day, it is difficult to refuse him the praise of having well merited
it by the originality, grandeur, and boldness of his design.

At each corner of the great hall is a fine octagon cupola-shaped room. All
the chambers were formerly ornamented with gildings and rich paintings; but

 

RESIDENCE, LUCKNOW.
ees INDIA.

they are now converted into an arsenal. At a short distance from the fort of
Mutchi Bhowan is another rather remarkable mouument, though very inferior to
the Great Imambara. This is the Housseinabad Imambara, a large enclosure
which contains, besides the monument itself, a bazaar, a mosque, a model of the
Taj, and another of the Koutub. All this is brilliant with colouring and
ornaments, and really has a beautiful effect under the lovely blue sky of India:
but we must not examine it too closely ; we must rest satisfied with the general
appearance of the mass.

April 1st—This morning we set out to visit the masterpiece of our country-
man, to which he had given the name of Constantia. The good ex-corporal must
have needed a strong dose of patience, and of constancy too, to succeed in
composing this queer edifice. What trouble his brains must have gone through

 

THE PALACE OF CLAUDE MARTIN, LUCKNOW.

before bringing to light this strange accumulation of all known and unknown
styles; of Greek and Roman statues solemnly balancing their heads by means
of springs; lions with lamps in lieu of eyes; monsters, divinities, all that the
imagination of a parvenu could invent of grotesque magnificence. And yet here
again we may apply a judgment which would be true with regard to all the
monuments of Lucknow. Ridiculous as it is in its details, Constantia yet has
the stamp of grand originality on it as a whole. Its lofty facade, surmounted by
two arches placed crosswise, like the framework of a dome, is reflected in a fine
piece of water, from the centre of which springs a high column of the composite
order.

Claude Martin was buried in the middle of his palace; but the insurgents of
1857, forgetful of all the services he had rendered to their country and all
A SOIREE AT LUCKNOW. 553

the benefits he was still conferring on their. children, violated his tomb and
scattered his bones. The English avenged his memory.

On returning to the road leading to the town, across the magnificent park
which conceals the approach to it, we visited the tomb of Ghazi-ood-deen Hyder.
The building has nothing remarkable in it, although it is asserted to be an exact
copy of the tomb of Ali, son-in-law of Mahomet, the venerated saint of the
sovereigns of Aotdh; but in its interior is to be seen a curious collection of
miniature portraits of the kings and queens of this dynasty.

The inhabitants of Lucknow are generally of a mild and even effeminate dis-
position ; they are. great lovers of pleasure and amusements, and passionately
cultivate poetry and singing. When, therefore, our Mussulman host invited us
to a soirée at the house of one of his friends, where there was to be singing and
declamation, I eagerly took advantage of this rare opportunity for penetrating
into a native household. When evening came, we passed through the town with
him. Night had already set in; the streets were filled with a gay and noisy
crowd ; and the shops were brilliantly lighted by a number of oil lamps fixed in
little niches along the walls. Taking us into a dark lane leading from the
Huzrut Gandj, the boulevard of Lucknow, our guide stopped in front of a house of
modest appearance, the door of which was soon opened to us by one of those beauti-
ful children with the large expressive eyes and long black hair which characterise
this Oriental population. .

A precipitous staircase, more like a ladder, conducted us to the reception-
room on the first floor, which we found full of grey-bearded men and young men
elegantly attired. Every one rose on seeing us; and the master of the house
advanced towards us with a profusion of compliments, seeking for the most
refined Persian expressions to express his sense of the honour conferred by our
visit. But still we remained standing, while the company present kept going
backwards and forwards, looking as it were with a distressed air for some object
which could not be found. Thinking it was our presence alone which was
occasioning this confusion, I made inquiries of our host. “Alas!” he exclaimed,
“never having hoped to receive such illustrious visitors under my humble roof, I
neglected to provide chairs.”

“Chairs! Is that all? My friend and I are old inhabitants of India; and,
more than that, in our quality of Sirdars of Bhopal, we are even of your own
caste: a place on your carpet will do for us.” Every one was enchanted with
our reply; the company made amicable bows towards us to show that they
accept our confraternity ; and we sat on our heels, after having, according to the
custom, taken off our shoes, which in such a posture would be very inconvenient.
Our host could not refrain from murmuring every now and then, raising his hands
upwards, “Sahibs in my house, and on the floor too!” This last fact seemed to
upset all his notions of European etiquette. The hookahs were brought, and, after
a brief conversation, the master of the house turned towards one of the venerable
old men who were present, and said to him, “O friend! recite to us some of
the sublime poetry you so well know how to compose.” Without waiting to be
pressed, the poet drew a parchment from his bosom, and, swaying his body from
left to right, recited in a rather nasal tone a pretty ballad in Ourdhoo. It was a
legend of the Punjaub, recounting the exploits of Ronsaloo, the knight-errant,
when ke went to deliver the town of Lunga from the monster which devastated
554 INDIA.

it. One of the young men, having tuned his lute, played a soft accompaniment
to the poet’s recitative, while each stanza was interrupted by the admiring “ Wah,
wah!” of the company. After the poet came the turn of the singers. Their
voices were for the most part correct, and their accentuation clear, but they have
too great a predilection for prolonged head notes. And the music? it will be
asked; but on this I am not able to give an impartial judgment. I had now
lived the same life as the Indians for too long a time not to have become
accustomed to their music; and I listened to it with delight, always finding
traces in it of those sentiments of soft poetic melancholy which are the basis of
the Indian character, and are so much in harmony with the nature of the land.

The evening’s entertainments were prolonged to an advanced hour of the
night; refreshments were served; and every one gave a specimen of his talent
without needing repeated invitations. During the whole period of our stay no
woman was visible, but I am pretty certain nevertheless that the ladies of the
house had been curiously watching from behind their curtain all the episodes of
the evening. At length we retired, enchanted with the affability and politeness
of the inhabitants of Lucknow.
CHAPTER LV.

FROM CAWNPORE TO BENARES.

The Lower Doab.—Allahabad.—The Cantonments.—The Plain of Prayaga.—Thé Great Triveni.
—The Pilgrims of the Ganges Water.—The Column of Asoka.—The Palace of Akbar.—The
Subterranean Temple.—A Mussulman School.—An Indigo Factory.—Harvest and Manu-

facture of Indigo.—Mirzapore——The Fortress of Chunar.—The Throne of God.—Mogeul-
Serai—Benares,

4) PRIL 5TH.—After passing the last few days in examining the
curiosities of Lucknow and fixing them in our album, we returned
to Cawnpore to take the rail. From this point the line of the
East Indian Railway follows the right bank of the Ganges, not
leaving it again until it reaches Calcutta, that is, for a distance
of about six hundred and twenty-eight miles.

We apesmapliahed the distance separating us from Allahabad in six hours.
The country we passed through, the Lower Dodb, is one of the finest and richest
districts in India. It is a narrow flat tongue of ground confined between the
Ganges and the Jumna, whose waters meet at its extremity; and its whole surface
is covered with fine cultivation, and numerous villages half hidden amongst clusters
of enormous trees, which. give it a certain stamp that is very frequently wanting
in the plains of the west.

At the station of Allahabad we found a friend whose father owns a large
plantation in the neighbourhood, and who had come to fetch us, to instal us in
his town-house situated in the middle of the cantonments.

My readers are already aware that this word “cantonments,” which strictly
should be applied only to the quarters of the troops, is used here to designate the
English towns established in proximity to the great Indian cities. The canton-
ments of Allahabad are in fact a town in every sense of the word, for they contain
at the present day the largest assemblage of Europeans out of the three presiden-
tial cities. Certainly the houses separated from each other by such extensive
gardens, the streets lined with trees and broad as highroads, and the squares as large
as esplanades, give to this English town more of the aspect of the suburbs of some
great capital than of a town. Unfortunately it will not always be like this; and
Allahabad, which is now in my opinion the model of a European city, soon will
no longer be so lavish of its space, air, and verdure.

This city is destined to become in a very short space of time much larger than
it is now. No other city, indeed, could be so wonderfully adapted for a capital.
Situated at the point of junction of the Ganges and the Jumna, it commands the

 
556 INDIA.

great fluvial highways; and, being at an almost equal distance from Bombay,
Calcutta, Lahore, and Madras, it is the centre at which all the railways of the
great Indian continent meet; and finally its healthy though warm climate, and
its soil adapted for superior cultivation, give it such advantages over the present
metropolis that it is difficult to understand why the Enelish still persist in
ascribing this position to Calcutta, a city buried in a corner of their empire, in
the midst of pestilential swamps, which the sea and the cyclones are constantly
threatening to swallow up.

After breakfast Mr. C took us in his carriage to the confluence of the
Jumna and the Ganges, which is effected towards the east of the Indian city.
We soon saw a plain of white sand extending before us, encompassed by the
magnificent sheets of blue of the two rivers which form at their point of junction
a sort of lake, that is lost to view in the horizon in the midst of white banks
covered with palm-trees.

From the remotest antiquity this plain has been considered as the most sacred
spot by the Hindoos. It is here we find the great Triveni, the celebrated point
of junction of the three sacred rivers, the Ganges, the Yamouna, and the Saravasti,
(a mystic river which falls from heaven); the united waters of which three suffice
to wash out the most heinous sins. The admiration of the first Aryans may well
be understood as, advancing for the first time towards the west, they contemplated
these two noble rivers, each half a mile in breadth, flowing along and uniting in
the midst of this superb country. No scene like it had till then presented itself
to their gaze, either in rocky Affghanistan or in the sandy Punjaub, and they
might well think they had at that found here the paradise they had come in
ee of. One of their earliest cities, Prayaga, was erected on this white plain ;
it was the splendour of this city of which, several centuries after its foundation,
the Chinese Hiouen Thsang, who visited it towards the year 640, gives us
some glimpse. It contained even at that time numerous temples, topes, and
convents.

“To the east of the capital,” he writes, “two rivers meet together; and to the
west of this junction there is a plateau of from fourteen to fifteen leagues in
circumference, the ground of which is even and smooth. From ancient times
down to our own days, kings and great personages endowed with humanity and
affection come to this spot to distribute their benefits and their alms. This is
why it is called the great plain of almsgiving.” *

A vast multitude crowds on the banks of the two streams. Brahmins, installed
under immense parasols, receive the pilgrims, and guide them through all the
ceremonials of the great purification. All of them, both men and women, first
strip themselves of their clothes, retaining only a light scarf, which they wrap
about their loins; then the troop enters into the water up to their waists, and
each one devoutly begins cutting off locks of hair, which are carefully dropped
into the sacred stream, for each separate hair thus offered to the river obtains the
remission of a sin, even a mortal one. This first operation ended, the Brahmin
who directs the devotions places himself before the pilgrims, and plunges into
the water. Emerging therefrom, he repeats the plunge, and throws the water
towards the four cardinal points; and in all these operations he is imitated by

 

* “History of the Life of Hiouen Thsang,” translated by St. Julien, p. 120.
CONFLUENCE OF THE ¥UMNA AND GANGES. "59

the faithful with a regularity which imparts to this religious spectacle a very
comic character.

Among the pilgrims assembled here are to be found representatives of all the
Hindoo tribes of India, from Cape Comorin to Cashmere. These good people
travel with their families; sometintes half the population of a village, perhaps
five or six hundred miles distant, may form a party. The pilgrims generally
wear a uniform costume, composed of coarse linen dyed a red or orange-tinted
ochre, which prevents the rich from being distinguished from the poor: but the
latter are far more numerous; for, as among the Mussulmans who go to Mecca
by proxy, the rich pay to have the pilgrimage performed for them. There is still
another class of pilgrims who come to the Triveni of Allahabad to fetch the water
of the Ganges, which they hawk about in the villages. This water, placed in
small phials marked with the seal of the Brahmins of Prayaga, is used for the
lustrations recommended at certain periods by the sacred writings, and is sold at
a very high price.

To the west of the great Plain of Almsgiving stands the stately citadel built in
the sixteenth century by Akbar, the high red sandstone walls of which command
the passage of the two rivers. It is in this fortress that the only monuments of
any antiquity which escaped the iconoclast fury of the Mussulmans are to be
found. One of these is a very fine lat of Asoka, similar to that which crowns the
palace of Feroze at Delhi. It is a beautiful monolith of cylindrical form, slightly
tapering towards the summit, forty-two feet seven inches in height; with an
elegant band representing honeysuckles for its heading.

Near this column is another monument of still greater interest. It is the
foundation of a Buddhist temple, completely buried in the earth, which causes it
to be regarded by the Hindoos as a subterranean temple, and has obtained for it
the name of the Region of Hell. In its centre is the venerable trunk of a tree,
still green, called Achaja Bat, which is the object of great veneration; and in
which it is easy to recognise one of those sacred trees which the followers of
Buddha always placed in front of their temples: but it is somewhat difficult to
explain how this tree comes to be inside the temple, and how it maintains the
semblance of life after an existence of twenty centuries. In the midst of the
citadel there once stood one of the finest palaces in India, the favourite residence
of the Emperor Akbar; but modern bricks and mortar have so completely dis-
figured it that it is difficult to trace the elegant outlines of the ancient fagades.

From the-top of the ramparts there is an admirable view of the two rivers and
the surrounding country, extending in the far distance, overspread with a luxuriant
vegetation.

On leaving the fortress, we traversed the whole length of the Indian town,
which is mean and not over-picturesque. In the costume and type of the
inhabitants there is a sensible difference from those of the Hindoos of the west.
The men are of very dark complexion, tall, but of very slender make, and clothed
entirely in white linen. The women are occasionally pretty, but very dark skinned ;
they wear a long, full-plaited skirt, and wrap a narrow piece of cloth round the
bust, leaving the bosom bare, without any kind of corset.

On our way, we entered with Mr. C—— into a little school, the master of
which was a Mussulman, and had been an old servant of the family. About
twenty children were seated on the floor round the professor, who was making
558 INDIA.

them sing the Ourdhoo alphabet in chorus ; and each child had a slate before
him, which served for the practice of the difficult art of Persian and Nagari
writing. The schoolroom was in the verandah itself of the master’s habitation,
overlooking a small yard where the children play.

Hi II i |

Nt
l) HE IK \

MAHOMETAN SCHOOL, ALLAHABAD.

 

On our return from our excursion, a disagreeable surprise awaited us at Mr.
C——’s house. This habitation, which is but rarely occupied, had been invaded
by myriads of insects—fleas and mosquitoes, which the light of the lamp attracted
INDIGO MANUFACTURE. "  g59

from their repose and drove against us in close battalions. As we sat down to
dinner, we perceived that the table and our plates were black with these creatures,
which indulged themselves in such fantastic leaps and springs that we were
compelled to make up our minds to beat a retreat, and go and dine in the garden
by moonlight. It may be imagined*what a pleasant prospect all these thousands
of tormentors held out to us for the night; but luckily the skin of an old
traveller is encased against such attacks, and I passed a very good night, although
in a bed without mosquito-curtains or coverings,

April 5th.—Our friend’s factory is situated on the left bank of the Ganges,
facing Allahabad; and, in compliance with an invitation to pass a few days
there, we set out for it early this morning.

Arrived on the banks of the Ganges, we had to cross a beach of white sand,
about half a mile in width, on which the sun’s rays were reflected with blinding
intensity, and from which our carriage was extricated with great difficulty. A
bridge of boats thrown across the stream at a point about half a mile in breadth
conveyed us to the opposite bank, where we again found the white sand extending
along to the foot of high perpendicular cliffs. These cliffs form the real bed of
the river, which, during the rainy season, occasionally rises above them, and
devastates all the country lying along its banks. After half an hour’s ride
through a pleasant landscape, we reached Mr. C——’s bungalow, where a hearty
reception awaited us.

Our host’s residence was a perfect type of the English planter’s dwelling in
India. It was a large and very low brick-walled house, supporting an immense
pyramidal roof formed of a thick covering of maize thatching. Its exterior,
which was of extreme simplicity, conveyed no notion of the elegance and comfort
of the interior, which was composed of four handsome bedrooms, each with its
own verandah and bath-room, opening on to a large, richly furnished, square
sitting-room. A kitchen-garden, in which the principal European vegetables
are grown, surrounded the house, separating it from the work-buildings which
constitute the factory. It was in this edifice, which we visited immediately
on our arrival, that the. indigo-producing plant was submitted to the different
processes of its preparation. Unfortunately the harvest takes place only after
the rainy season, so we were unable to witness this interesting manufacture.
Our host, however, furnished us with so many details, that our regret was greatly
diminished.

“Tt is the young shoots of the humble plant you see around you,” he said,
“which provide us with the precious material for dyeing, and not the flowers, as
is commonly supposed. The gathering of these shoots is a very delicate operation.
When they have arrived at a proper degree of maturity, they must be speedily
removed ; aud each cutting must be executed with rapidity, and during the night,
for the sun would wither the branches, and deprive them of their properties. We
therefore require a great many hands; all the villages on my estate are placed
in requisition, The workmen are all dispersed in the fields at midnight ; and in the
morning the produce of the harvest is deposited in these stone troughs, which
have been previously filled with water. Then is the time for the sun to perform
its part. Under the influence of its rays the substances undergo a species of
fermentation; the water becomes coloured with variegated tinges, and rapidly
turns blue. After a space of about forty-eight hours, the liquid is drawn off from
560 INDIA.

the smallest troughs; it now emits a slightly ammoniacal smell, and the colour is
almost black. It is allowed to evaporate again, and is then placed in metal vats
heated by steam, in which, when the evaporation has ceased, a deposit of pure

INDIGO FACTORY, ALLAHABAD.

 

 

 

li

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|

ii

1 A
|

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indigo is formed. It only remains to dry this deposit, pack it, and send it to the
market at Calcutta.”

The situation of this indigo plantation is one of the most westerly in India;
but after this point, going on towards the east, vast districts are to be found in

i |

 
HINDOSTAN PROPER, 561

which this material forms almost the sole product manufactured. Tirhout, Upper
Behar, and Bengal are almost entirely in the hands of the indigo planters,

These details were quite new to me. There exist, therefore, in India, besides
the soldiers, public functionaries, and tradesmen, real planters established on the
soil and cultivating its riches. Their number, it is true, must be comparatively
limited ; but the mere superintendence of these field works implies an acclimatisa-
tion I had not thought the English capable of. And yet the planter’s life in these
parts has charms of which Europeans generally have little idea, For a man inured
to the heat of this climate, what finer existence could there be than this of reign-
ing lord over these vast fields, and over these mild and timid people? While on
the one hand he enjoys all the comforts of civilisation, he has on the other all
the advantages of a life in the jungles.: The railways are at his disposal ; the
forests are his hunting-preserves ; and, if he is kind and indulgent, he is sure to
be loved and respected by the populations.

The week I passed at the factory bungalow slipped away only too rapidly,
and it was with a truly sad heart that I bade farewell to Mr. C ’s charming
family..

April 14th.—On returning to Allahabad we took the rail again, and continued
our journey eastward.

The country we were now entering upon was Hindostan proper. The
inhabitants call it by no other name, and have themselves the appellation of
Hindostanis. According to their version, the name of Hindostan, which
European geographers apply to the whole of India, or at least to all India north
of the Vindhyas, belongs only to the middle part of the valley of the Ganges,
from the point where the river receives the waters of the Jumna to where, dis-
charging itself into several branches, it alters its eastern course to turn south-
ward across Bengal towards the ocean. This country, of rather limited extent, is
bounded on the north by Aofidh and Tirhout, and on the south by Bogelcund
and the mountains of Sirgouja. The capital of this sacred cradle of the Hindoo
race is Benares, towards which we were progressing. Speaking of this province,
Bishop Heber writes :——“ It is truly a country of wonderful wealth. In a space
of about two hundred miles we find six towns more populated than Chester ; two
—Patna and Mirzapore—more populated than Birmingham ; and one—Benares
—which is only inferior to London or Paris; and, besides these, myriads of
villages.” :

On leaving Allahabad, the railroad crosses the Jumna on a superb iron bridge,
over half a mile in length, supported by sixteen massive piers—one of the most
remarkable works of the kind ever executed; and, immediately after its transit
of this bridge, it turns abruptly to the east, and follows the right bank of the
Ganges. Soon we sighted the steep terraces of the group of the Rewah appearing
in the south, which, as we gradually approached, projected their buttresses as far
as the stream. On the extreme edge of this plateau, sixty-one miles from
Allahabad, the important mercantile city of Mirzapore is seen, leaning its houses,
temples, and large stone ghats against the escarpment, which commands the river
at this point from a height of about fifty feet.

‘We stopped at Mirzapore to accept the invitation of one of our Rajpootana
friends, Major M——,, who had made us promise to come and take a glance at

the thriving city, of which he was one of the judges. The town itself is certainly
2N

 
562 INDIA.

worth the trouble of a day or two spent upon it. Besides the numerous pretty
temples it contains, it possesses very interesting manufactories of carpets and
hangings; its streets are wide, regularly built, and planted with trees; and its
wharves present an animated and picturesque cowp-d’@il, hundreds of large barges
waiting there to load bales of cotton from all the neighbouring provinces.

The environs of Mirzapore also are charming. Our friend, the major, drove.
us in his break to Torah, a little village situated five miles south, near which a
pretty little river crosses one of the shelves of the plateau, forming a fine cascade.

April 17th—In spite of the railway, we got on only at a snail’s pace. To-
day we stopped again at Chunar, twenty-one miles only distant from Mirzapore.

Chunar is one of the celebrated fortresses in the valley of the Ganges.
Seated on the summit of an isolated rock, one of its sides being a perpendicular
cliff 146 feet high, and its base bathed by the stream, it was long reputed to be
impregnable; and, in fact, it has never been taken by assault. The ramparts
rest upon the very crest of the rock, which forms, over nearly the whole circum-
ference of the fort, a smooth slope offering an inclined angle of 45°; and this
peculiar arrangement suggested to the defenders of Chunar, from a remote
antiquity, the ingenious idea of using stone rollers, similar to those employed on
road metal, in the repulse of assaults; the rollers sliding down the declivity, over-
throwing and crushing the enemy in their passage. It was owing to this inven-
tion that Chunar was never stormed; and even at the present day it may be
doubted whether it would not repulse an attacking column. At all events the
English have kept up the tradition; and all along the ramparts may be seen
pyramids of these rollers of antique origin.

Most of the edifices which formerly occupied the fortress have been replaced
by a fine piece of turf, round which are ranged the bungalows of the garrison.
A portion of the ancient palace of the Hindoo kings is still, however, visible.
It is a sombre and massive building, in the centre of which is sunk a well of
immense depth. This spot amid the blackened walls of the old habitation is’
regarded by the Hindoos as the most sacred in all the world. It is a small court
almost entirely overspread by the thick foliage of a sacred fig-tree. At the foot
of the tree lies a slab of black marble, polished but unornamented, upon which
(as tradition has it) the eternal, invisible god—he whose name, Otim, is only
pronounced in a whisper, the all-powerful master of both gods and men—seats
himself during nine hours of each day. Neither idol nor sculpture disturbs the
stern aspect of this court. Only on one point of the wall is seen a circle enclosed
in a triangle—a mystic symbol, of which the Hindoo has forgotten the meaning.
Within this enclosure all men become equal ; there are no longer either castes, or
Brahmins, or pariahs ; all alike must prostrate themselves with their faces in the
dust before the invisible majesty of the deity present.

The town of Chunar extends picturesquely to the foot of the fort, its terraced
houses interspersed with gardens. At a short distance from the town stands a
superb mausoleum in the Mogul style, covered with delicate sculptures, raised to
the memory of two Mussulman saints, Kassim Soliman and his son. In the
evening we took the rail again, and only reached Benares at nine o’clock, after.

having had to change carriages at Mogul Serai, whence the little branch serving
this line turns off.
CHAPTER LVI.

BENARES,

Historical Sketch.—An Excursion on the Ganges.—The Wharves.—The Observatory of Jey Sing.
—The Nepaulese Pagoda,—The Ghat of the Funeral Piles.—The Mosque of Aurungzeb.—
Interior of the City.—The Golden Temple.—The Well of Truth_—_The Dourga Khound.—
The Monkeys’ Paradise.—Brahmins and Beggars.— Preaching in the Open Air.—The English
Town.—Sarnath.—Hiouen Thsang.—The Antelope Wood.—The Festival of Ganesa.—Sacred
Bayadeéres,—The Rajah of Benares.—The Palace of Ramnuggur.

|N treating of Delhi I compared that town to ancient Rome, the
great capital of the European world; and it is still to Rome,
=) but to Christian Rome, the capital of the Catholic world, that
mg “ae compare Benares, the holy city, the religious capital of the
Brahminic and Buddhist world. But whereas Christian Rome

: . dates its true splendour only as far back as ten centuries at
the utmost, and at the present day it maintains its sway over only two hundred
millions of believers, Benares has shone with uninterrupted splendour for more
than thirty centuries, and still has its name revered by over five hundred millions
of men—Brahminists of India, and Buddhists of Ceylon, Indo-China, China, and
Thibet.

The first king of Benares of whom history makes mention is alleged to have
reigned about twelve hundred years before the Christian era. The already ancient
city of Rajah Kasi—the Benares of the present day—-was the great centre of
philosophical and theological studies, and two great rival schools. The Brahmins
filled the city with their convents, colleges, and temples. They preached the
predominance of spirit over matter, but condemned the soul to an interminable
transmigration through thousands of existences. Their theological rivals, on the
contrary, were atheists and materialists, and refused to admit the immortality of
the soul.

It was in the midst of these’ tumults and dissensions which filled the holy
city that, towards the year 395 before our era, a young prince of the Kshatrya
race appeared, assuming to himself the mission of searching for the truth. His
name was Siddharta, but, on embracing the monastic life, he assumed the name
of Sakya-Mouni. After four years spent in studying all the different systems,
one after the other, the young philosopher one day left the holy city, alone and
obscure; and, halting in one of its suburbs, he began promulgating for the first
time the precepts of a new religion—sublime precepts which the world had never
heard before. It was at the foot of a tree, and before an audience of four beggars,
that Sakya, trampling under foot the systems of the Brahmins and the Souastikas,

 

 
564 INDIA.

proclaimed the equality of all men, of man and woman, of the slave and of the
rich, of the priest and of the beggar, in the sight of God, the Creator of the
Universe. It was then he taught men that their earthly existence was but a
trial imposed upon the immortal soul, and that it was by charity, the love of their
neighbour, and a pure and virtuous life that all were permitted to liberate them-
selves from the bonds of matter, and gain eternal life free from all restrictions.
Converted by this act in the life of the great prophet into the sacred city of
Buddhism, Benares was crowded with temples, convents, and splendid monuments;
and during several centuries pilgrims flocked thither, not only from all parts
of India, but also from the most remote provinces of China, Mongolia, and
Malay.

Then came the great religious revolution of the ninth century; Buddhisin
perished, and Benares once more became the city of Brahminism. It is a strange
fact that, in the midst of the unceasing succession of religions which have thrown
all India into confusion around it, this great city has never aspired to political
predominance, and was never the capital of a state of any importance, but,
abandoning temporal power to others, was content to exercise spiritual sway over
the whole of the vast Indian continent. Another not less surprising fact is that
after thirty centuries of splendour it has not a single monument of any antiquity
to present to the stranger. Amongst its innumerable temples it would be difficult
to find one whose date could be authentically fixed beyond three centuries. This
circumstance is explained by the frequency of the religious wars of which it was
the scene, in which the victor was each time eagerly bent on destroying all traces
of the vanquished.

On the day after our arrival we left our hotel, situated in the centre of
Secrole, the English town, and were taken to the Dasasvamédh Ghat, the wharf at
which the tourists usually embark to commence their visit to the holy city.

The ghat is situated at the western extremity of the large bend which the
Ganges makes at this point, so that we took in at a glance the whole view of the
town, standing in tiers like an amphitheatre on the right side of the stream. The
situation occupied by Benares has often been compared to that of Naples, and the
comparison is not without some accuracy. The bed of the stream, in fact, which
is half a mile in breadth, forms a sort of calm blue bay, in which the picturesque
facade of the city ranged along its banks is reflected like a crescent. We entered
an elegant gondola, and soon were gliding gently in front of the city, gazing on the
long succession of admirable pictures unfolding themselves before us. Seen at a
little distance from the river, the ghat of Dasasvamédh forms a picture no painter
could wish to heighten by a single touch. Its large flights of steps crowned by
small temples with their bristling spires have for their background, on the one
side, the stately masses of a group of palaces surmounting the crest of the plateau,
and on the other the plain and elegant facade of the Man Munder, the great
observatory of Benares, erected by the celebrated Jey Sing, of Jeypore.

A little farther on, for a length of two hundred yards, extends a complete chaos
of gigantic flights of steps, benches, and terraces, crowned by a line of palaces
leaning their fagades over the abyss. This is the result of a recent catastrophe :
the embankment upon which this enormous mass of stone rested, being worn by the
water, gave way, and carried with it all the buildings it supported; and so vast is
the disaster, that there is small probability of its ever being repaired. The Hindoo,
PILGRIMS BATHING AT SUNRISE. 565
however, is of a very accommodating disposition, and readily takes the will for
the deed. It was decided that a wharf should be built on this spot for the con-
venience of pilgrims. The wharf was built, and it broke down. What care they ?
The crowd does not stop to consider the matter, and, in the absence of the building
itself, is quite content with the tottering ruins.

The sun at the moment of our visit rose above the horizon, and its earliest
rays enveloped the innumerable spires in a fantastic conflagration. Its appearance
was greeted by the people thronging everywhere on the shore with a long murmur.

  
  

NMA OIEAN«A

 

WINDOW OF MAN MUNDER, BENARES.

It was the consecrated moment, when the pilgrim must plunge himself into the
water, still icy cold from the freshness of the night. Thousands of heads were
visible above the expanse of the stream, all turned motionless towards ee
resplendent planet, while at the foot of the ghits groups of young women who i
anticipated the sunrise hastened to escape the contact of the crowd, and ae

from the river wrapped in their white te cae caused to cling close

i 1 isplaying all the elegance of their contours.
a para S * diffce of singular shape; a lofty fagade of very simple
566 INDIA.

design supporting a roof of Chinese outline, crowned by a bell-tower glittering
with gildings. This is the Nepaulese Pagoda, the only temple dedicated to
Buddha that Benares contains at the present day.

We were now in the centre of the line of wharves fronting the Munikurnika
Ghat, the holy of holies, the place where funeral piles are incessantly burning,
destined to consume the bodies of all those to whom fate has granted the happi-
ness of ending their days in the sacred city. Happy, indeed, thrice happy those
whose mortal envelope here becomes a prey to the flames, for the soul will depart
directly from the spot towards paradise, where, if they have not been great
sinners, it will animate the body of some future Bralmin. This felicity is, there-
fore, eagerly desired by every orthodox Hindoo. Rich people, on the approach
of a serious malady, hasten to Benares in the hope of ending their existence at
the gates of paradise; and those surprised by death give orders for their bodies
to be conveyed thither sometimes from a distance of hundreds of miles, to be
burnt on the Munikurnika.

On landing at this wharf one is half suffocated by the dense fcetid smoke
which hangs over it like a bluish dome. On all sides the funeral piles send up
their long flames, and their cracklings are accompanied by sinister sounds. The
workmen of this dismal place, with their bodies naked and blackened by the
soot, like real demons, stir the fires by means of long bars of iron, or throw jars
of oil upon them. At each step we stumble over bones, and our feet sink deep
into the still warm human dust, which, heaped in this spot as it has been for
centuries, forms a layer of considerable depth.

Hosts of hideous beggars, cripples, and hunchbacks, assembled here, torment
you with their lamentable cries, and will not leave you until they have extorted
a few coppers. Every moment long processions of pilgrims appear on the
terrace of the wharf, which is backed by a picturesque line of temples. All
these people, as soon as they arrive, hasten to undress themselves, and plunge
into the sacred waters, after having paid the usual fee to the Brahmins, who stay
on the shore, squatting under large parasols, where they retail certificates of
purification, indulgences, chaplets, and amulets. One flight of stairs is specially
reserved for the women, who, sheltered by an imaginary wall, display themselves
in ingenuous nudity, plunging, frolicking, and letting their shouts be heard above
the uproar of cries and prayers. These nymphs of the Ganges are, however,
surrounded by a retinue of venerable matrons, whose unimposing aspect soon puts
the indiscreet European to flight.

Next to the Munikurnika Ghat, the banks are decorated by a long succession
of palaces, whose beautiful facades spring above immense flights of stairs. Every
rajah has his residence here, at which he comes to pass the great religious festivals.
One of the finest of these residences, the palace of the kings of N: agpore, rests on
a flight of a hundred stairs, made of enormous blocks of white sandstone.

At the extremity of this noble row of palaces stands the great mosque of
Aurungzeb, raising to heaven its two slender minarets, which seem to proclaim
the triumph of the pure doctrine of Mahomet over the dark worship of Siva.
This mosque occupies the site of the famous temple of Vishnu, which the
Emperor Aurungzeb caused to be razed, and which was regarded by the Vaish-
navas as the sanctuary of their religion, marking the spot where Vishnu himself.
first appeared to man; and the Madhoray Ghat, a flight of a hundred stairs, whose
INTERIOR OF BENARES. 567

worn-out and deformed steps attest their antiquity, and which the Hindoos for-
merly ascended only on their knees when they went to prostrate themselves before
Vishnu, now leads to the mosque. The temple itself is small, and even insignifi-
cant, and makes one regret the wondrous building it replaced ; nevertheless, its
minarets, one hundred and forty-seven feet two inches in height, and only eight
and a quarter feet in diameter at the base, are considered marvels of architecture.
In spite of their slight diameter they contain a winding staircase of a hundred
and thirty steps, of which the authorities of the town have forbidden the ascent,
as for some years past the summit has considerably diverged from the perpen-
dicular.

But hitherto we have only considered the town, so to say, from a distance
and from the outside. It is now time for us to see what is hidden behind this
incomparable fagade of monuments, and to penetrate into the interior of the city.

I suggested a carriage for the excursion, but the idea caused our guide to

“smile. “You can enter Benares only on foot,” he said; “there is not a street
in the city wide enough for a carriage to pass through; few are capable of
admitting an elephant, and in the greater number the crowd is so compact that
neither horse nor palanquin could circulate freely in them.”

We reascended the river, therefore, and landed on the Ugneswur Ghat, close
by that of the funeral piles. Following our guide, we threaded our way through
the human ant-hill that covered the wharf, and, mounting interminable stairs, we
reached the plateau on which the city. stands.

A street, or, rather I should say, a dark narrow passage was before us; the
brick houses with lofty frontages interlaced their balconies above our heads, while
the shopkeepers’ flat baskets placed on either side of the road encroached upon
the path, already so narrow that three persons could not walk in it abreast. But
we soon reached a square of middling extent, where the crowd pressed in noisy
confusion round a little temple, the pyramidal spire of which was overlaid with
plates of gold. This temple is at the present day the holy of holies in Benares ;
and it is here that the Hindoos, forgetful of their ancient gods, Brahnia, Vishnu,
and Indra, come and prostrate themselves before the lingam of Siva, the emblem
of the ancient religion which they have borrowed from the wild inhabitants of
the jungles, and which is nothing more than the exaltation of the material
powers of Nature. This lingam, a plain stone post, is supposed to form part of
the very body of the deity; and, to ensure one’s entry into the Kai-las, the
Brahminic paradise, it is sufficient to have once in the course of a lifetime per-
formed the sacred rites before this object of adoration. The eagerness of the
crowd pressing round the fetish may, therefore, be understood.

Near the temple stands a building, upheld by numerous columns of elegant
shape, in the midst of which is sunk a narrow well, not very deep, and filled
with a stagnant greenish water exhaling a foetid smell. Here again pilgrims are
plentiful, and dispute over the disgusting beverage which the Brahmin draws for
them from the well, and makes them drink out of a silver goblet, after having,
of course, pocketed an appropriate remuneration. This holy well is the Gayan
Bowree, or Source of Wisdom. According to the legend, at the period when
the great quarrel broke out amongst the divinities of the Indian Olympus
about the possession of the: amrita, the beverage of the immortals, the fierce
Siva carried off the immense bowl, and emptied it at a draught; but in his haste
568 INDIA.

he let fall some drops of the liquid, which, falling on the earth, filled the well of
Gayan Bowree.

In its vicinity is another well, the Munikurnika, filled with a not less stagnant
water, supplied from the washings of the idols of the neighbouring temples. This
water possesses miraculous properties, and is also greedily swallowed by the pious
pilgrims.

Strange to say, the presence of a European, of an unbeliever, at the entrance
to these sacred spots was regarded with indifference, I might almost say with
kindness, by the crowd. Every one respectfully made way for us as we passed;
and numerous “Salam, Sahib!” greeted us, especially when, on issuing from the
Gayan Bowree, the news spread among the pilgrims that we had placed an offering
of two rupees in the hands of the Brahmins {or the idol.

Is there a people in the world more tolerant than this good and gentle
Hindoo people, who have been so often described to us as cunning, cruel, and
even bloodthirsty 2? Compare them for an instant with the Mussulmans, or even
with ourselves, in spite of our reputation for civilisation and tolerance. Only let
a Chinese or an Indian come and walk in our streets during a religious festival
or ceremony, and will not the crowd exhibit the most hostile feelings towards
him if his bearing should not be in conformity with the customs of the country ?
Will his ignorance excuse him? I doubt it. And in what country could such
a spectacle be witnessed as that which met my eyes that day in this square of
Benares? There, at ten paces from all that the Hindoo holds to be most sacred
in his religion, between the Source of Wisdom and the idol of Siva, a Protestant
missionary had taken his stand beneath a tree. Mounted on a chair, he was
preaching, in the Hindostani tongue, on the Christian religion and the errors of
paganism. I heard his shrill voice, issuing from the depths of a formidable shirt-
collar, eject these words at the crowd, which respectfully and attentively surrounded
him—

“You are idolaters! That block of stone which you worship has been taken
from a quarry ; it has been carved by a workman, and it is as inert and powerless
as the stone post leaning against the wall of my house.”

These reproaches called forth no murmur; the missionary was listened to
immovably: but his dissertation was attended to, for every now and then one of
the audience would put a question, to which the brave apostle replied as well as
he could. Perhaps we should be disposed to admire the missionary’s courage if
the well-known tolerance of the Hindoos did not defraud him of the greater part
of his merit; but it is true that this very tolerance is what most disheartens the
missionaries, one of whom once said to me, “Our labours are in vain ; you can
never convert a man who has sufficient conviction in his own faith to listen,
without moving a muscle, to all the attacks you can make against it.”

We had not rested since the morning, and I was looking about for a bench
to sit upon, when a Brahmin approached us, and offered: to take me to one of the
houses where I could rest myself, and at the same time enjoy the view of the
temples and the square. I passed upwards of an hour at the window of my
obliging friend without getting weary of contemplating the varied and picturesque
scene of the crowd. Among the numerous troops of pilgrims I recognised types
of all the different countries I had passed through: all wore their finest holiday
garments; and the women, bending under the weight of the gold and silver
“THE MONKEYS’ TEMPLE.” 569
ornaments which covered their bodies, slowly followed the men, bearing with
attitudes of infinite grace large brass trays laden with heaps of flowers, offerings
destined for the gods. Then from time to time there was a procession accom-
panying an idol placed in a palanguin, which came from some distant village to
prostrate themselves before Mahadeo, the God of Gods, or to dip in the water of
the Well of Wisdom. Zebus with pendant humps and plump limbs passed with
majestic steps through the crowds of pilgrims, who respectfully saluted them ;
and parrots and peacocks animated the terraces and the spires of the temples
with their bright colours and discordant cries, while reddish-tinted, short, thick-set
monkeys gambolled impudently on the porticos.

We continued our walk over the town; the streets of which, though every-
where of astonishing narrowness, were tended with a care that does honour to the
cleanly instincts of the Hindoos. These narrow streets were lined with little
stalls, where, amongst other curiosities, were displayed very fine pieces of silk
brocaded with gold, called Kincéb, which are one of the specialities of Benares ;
muslins of very fine texture ; and finally idols of brass and bronze, the astounding
variety of which would delight a collector.

The temples were very numerous, but nearly all of very limited dimensions ;
mostly being small chapels with walls covered with sculptures, preceded by
porticos with two columns, and surmounted by spires of great elegance.

We issued at length from the town, properly so called, and entered the suburbs,
which are intersected by large and regularly built streets, lined with handsome,
many-storeyed houses. Here carriages can circulate freely, and our guide soon
found us a caléche, with which we continued our excursion.

At a short distance from the suburbs, on the banks of a piece of water
surrounded by broad stairs, stands the great temple of Dourga Khound (the
fountain of Dourga), one of the most beautiful edifices in Benares, Europeans
generally denominate it “The Monkeys’ Temple.” These animals are, in fact,
kept here in considerable numbers; they fill the yards, and cover the walls; and
at the first step you take within their enclosure the grimacing groups surround
and assail you in order to obtain the usual offering——which means a rupee to
the Brahmin, and an ample distribution of parched corn to the quadrumana.
The temple, which is built entirely of stone, is suffused from base to summit
with red ochre, the tint ef which, resembling blood, is particularly pleasing to
the ferocious Dourga. The columns, the walls, the spires, and, in short, all the
exterior parts of the edifice are covered with a profusion of very finely sculptured
ornaments; and in the court preceding the sanctuary is placed a fine monolith,
supporting a monstrous figure. If we are to believe the Brahmins, this temple
dates from the eighth or ninth century.

From the Dourga Khound we regained Secrole and our hotel, passing across a
rich and verdant country, to which the lofty plumes of the palm-trees imparted a
very original character.

Secrole, the English town of Benares, has attained to considerable dimensions
during the last few years. Its bungalows, surrounded by gardens, are ranged
along fine avenues; it has several Christian churches, a large printing estab-
lishment, and, finally, a well-frequented university. In the courtyard of the
buildings of the university, a fine Gothic edifice, there has recently been erected
a monolithic 1At of Asoka, similar to those of Allahabad and Delhi, and to
570 INDIA.

that which formerly adorned the court of the temple of Vishnu destroyed by
Aurungzeb.

After devoting several days to the different works we had to execute at
Benares, we set out to visit the celebrated ruins of the vast Buddhist establish-
ment of Sarnath, situated eight miles from the town.

One of the most surprising things to the archzologist visiting India is to see
how this land, which was the cradle and once the most flourishing empire of the
Buddhist religion, is at the present day completely destitute of monuments
connected with that period. Thus, with the exception of the wonderful group of
Bhilsa, which miraculously escaped from the general destruction, we scarcely find
any but insignificant ruins to recall the sumptuous and flourishing reign of the
followers of Buddha. More than this, we should even be in ignorance of the
very principles of their architecture if the rocks of the Ghats had not preserved
its imperishable types in their dark excavations. Nor is it only the monuments
that have disappeared before the obstinate animosity of the Brahmins. The very
name of Buddha has been so carefully and scrupulously effaced from all the
legends and traditions that there is not a man living in all the vast Indian
continent who has the slightest suspicion that the religion ever existed in his
country.

If Buddhism had not crossed the frontiers of India and won over China,
Thibet, Indo-China, and Ceylon to its doctrines, it would have arisen and dis-
appeared again after sixteen or seventeen centuries of existence without leaving
the least trace of its passage. Certainly it would have been very difficult for
learned Europeans to retrace and reconstruct its doctrines from the scanty
documents now existing in India; and others besides them probably, misled by
modern legends, would have ascribed these few monuments to some special
Brahminic sect. But the Chinese and other nations converted to the doctrines of
Buddha, even after India had abandoned the faith, continued to look upon this
country as the specially sacred land; their books have preserved to us the
translations of the ancient sacred books of Buddhism; and their travellers have
left us in the narratives of their pilgrimages faithful pictures of the country and
of the events of which it was the scene. It is to Chinese and Cingalese literature
that we are indebted not only for our acquaintance with Buddhism, but even for
our discovery of the sites of its principal monuments and establishments in India.
The most remarkable of these books is the account of the journey of the Chinese
Hiouen Thsang, who travelled over India from the year 629 to 645; and we
have a translation of it by our eminent Chinese scholar, Stanislas Julien.

From the information supplied by Hiouen Thsang we are able to recognise in
the ruins of the village of Sarnath, near Benares, the famous religious establish-
ment regarded by the Buddhists as the principal seat of their faith; and such is
the correctness of the old Chinese traveller's descriptions, that by following out
the text of his narrative, and the measurements he gives, explorers have only had
to dig the earth to find traces of the monument or the object itself he had
described. It was Hiouen Thsang’s book which served me as a guide in my
excursion to the ruins of Sarnath.

Leaving Secrole, after an hour's drive towards the north-east, across a magni-
ficent and finely cultivated plain sprinkled with fruit trees, we perceived the first
tépe, to which some former travellers had given the name of Chékandi, but which
LEGEND OF GAUTAMA. 571

the natives only know under that of Louk Bthta. In it we recognised the
enormous tower, three hundred feet high, which first met the gaze of the Chinese
pilgrim on his way from Benares; for the crumbled tower forms at the present
day a complete hill of bricks, eregted to commemorate the visit made by the
Emperor Houmayoun to these ruins. At the foot of the little mount are ranged
seated statues of Buddha, discovered by Cunningham in the excavations made in
its interior.

Continuing our road, we passed a small wood of wild plum-trees, of great age.
This wood, celebrated in the religious annals of the Buddhists, seems to have
remained unaltered since the visit of Hiouen Thsang; and perhaps some of those
little trees, the gnarled trunks of which are of very slow development, may have
sheltered the venerable pilgrim.

The following is the lecend which has won for this insignificant shrubbery a
singular celebrity :—

“It was at the period when the last Buddha, passing through the innumerable
existences which were preparing him for the condition of human life, was alive
upon the earth under the form of an antelope, and was king of a tribe of these
animals. A rajah of Kasi, the ancient Benares, passionately fond of hunting,
daily ravaged the tribe over which Gautama reigned. The latter, grieved to see
so many useless murders committed, went and sought the king, and, on the
condition of his ceasing his excursions, engaged himself to provide him every day
with an antelope for his table. The king agreed to this, and chance daily decided
which animal should be sacrificed for the public good; but, the lot having fallen
one day upon a hind with young, the animal refused to yield herself to her fate,
protesting that her offspring’s hour to die could not in common justice have come
before it had seen the light of day. Gautama, touched by the mother’s lament,
took her place, and presented himself to the king to be killed: but, having heard
of what had occurred, the king felt ashamed of his barbarity ; and, directing the
divine animal to be brought, he prostrated himself before him, exclaiming, ‘O
sublime being! thou art a man under the form of an animal, while I am but an
animal in the shape of a man.’ He then freed the king of the antelopes from his
promise, and thenceforward forbade hunting in his dominions.”

On the opposite side of the wood lies the insignificant village of Sarnath, to
the north of which rises the stately tower which, according to Hiouen Thsang,
marks the spot where Buddha for the first time “turned the wheel of the law,”
that is, where he exposed his doctrines to the four beggars.

This structure now bears the name of Dhamek, a corruption of Dhurmka, or
the tépe of the Faith. It is a round tower, a hundred and ten feet high, and
ninety feet in diameter at its base. The lower part up to a height of forty-five
feet, is built of enormous blocks of sandstone, connected together by cramp-irons ;
‘and it is ornamented with sculptured mouldings, broken by niches which, though
now vacant, formerly contained statues. These sculptures are of very remarkable
nicety of execution and delicacy of arrangement. The remainder of the tower, a
massive cylinder of brick, was encased in a layer of stucco, and surmounted by a
large stone parasol, fragments of which have been found.

This monument is supposed to date from the fourth century of our era; and
it cannot be later than that period, for it was visited and described by a Chinese
traveller at the beginning of the filth century. Its shape, moreover, would hardly
ie INDIA.

admit of its being assigned to a more remote date. It will be remembered, too,
that I have already explained how the first tépes were perfectly hemispheric,
while the cylindrical tépes were only brought into use about the period of the

 

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TOPE OF DHAMEK, SARNATH.

first decline of Buddhism in India, that is to say, in the fourth century. Round
the tépe of Dhamek lie small mounds, in which excavations made according to, the
indications of Hiouen Thsang, led to the discovery of the ruins of the celebrated
RUINS OF THE MONASTERY OF MRIGADAVA. 573

monastery of Mrigadava. One of the most curious results of these excavations
has been the proof of the exact analogy between the plans of the viharas which
were erected and of those hewn in the rock ; except that here the cells and
chapels were arranged round a square court, while in the caves they surround a
chamber of the same form. It was also noticed that the monastery had been
pulled down at intervals of several centuries, and rebuilt on its own ruins. Its
final destruction took place towards the ninth or tenth century, when some public

IK FO aS a
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SCULPTURE ON THE TOPE OF DHAMEK.

insurrection surprised the monks in the midst of their peaceful occupations; as
witnessed by the fact that among the calcined beams of the roof, and beneath the
ashes, ornaments have been found by the side of household utensils, corn, parasols,
and furniture. The insurgents burned both the monks and the monastery ; after
which, their vengeance being accomplished, the Brahmins abandoned the accursed
spot, leaving to time the task of burying their victims.

To the west of the monastery lie three small pieces of water, which down to
the present time bear the names of Heron Tal (the Stag’s Lake), Chandra Tal
574 INDIA.

(the Silver Lake), and Naya Tél (the New Lake). “To the west of the convent
of the Antelope Plain,” says Hiouen Thsang, “are seen the pond where Tathagata
bathed, the pond where he washed his garments, and the pond where he cleansed
the sacred vessels. All three are guarded by sacred dragons, who keep them free
from the contamination of men.”

In the midst of this ground, consecrated by Buddhist legends, now stands a
Jain temple; and the priests I questioned assured me that the monuments, whose
ruins I was contemplating, had been erected by Jains of the Swetambara (slightly
clad) sect. This is another proof that this sect was instituted by Buddhists com-
pelled by persecutions to re-enter the Jain order, from which they had formerly
withdrawn themselves. During my stay at Benares I returned several times to
Sarnath, where I caused some excavations to be made, which to my great delight
brought me a very fine little figure in terra-cotta, several earthenware articles, and
a few fragments of bronze.

Towards the end of April we had an opportunity of witnessing one of the
most brilliant religious festivals celebrated in Benares—that of Ganesa.

This deity, whose name and some of whose attributes recall the god Janus
of the Romans, is one of the most popular divinities of modern India. He is the
emblem of wisdom, of prudence, and of commerce; and his presence wards off
dangers; for which reason he presides over the doors of houses of business. All
contracts open with the invocation of Ganesa, which is sometimes reduced to a
simple sign, the form of which resembles the trunk adorning the face of the god.
In fact, Ganesa, the son of Siva and Parvati, is always represented in the form of
a short fat man, provided with four arms, and having an elephant’s head; and at
the foot of his throne appears a mouse, his favourite courser. According to’ the
legend, he was the handsomest and most amiable of the sons of Siva; but this
jealous and irritable god, having one day surprised him in Parvati’s apartment,
struck off his head with a blow of his sabre. Siva soon regretted his anger, and
tried to restore his son to life, but the head had disappeared, having been carried
off by a dog. The deity then chose a young elephant, whose head he cut off and
placed upon his son’s shoulders.

The festival of Ganesa is celebrated with extraordinary magnificence at
Benares, where this deity possesses at least two hundred sanctuaries. Early in the
morning processions are formed in front of each temple. An effigy of the god,
made in terra-cotta expressly for the occasion, painted and ornamented with
gilding and tinsel, is placed in a velvet palanquin surmounted by a richly
embroidered dais; priests and musicians surround the idol; and the cortége
moves on slowly towards the river. Before them advance the richly robed
bayadéres, dancing a solemn measure and waving their scarves. These bayadéres
are young girls who have been widowed before becoming wives, whose families
dedicate them to the service of the god to avoid seeing them become ordinary
nautchnis. They lead a very retired life, at least to all appearance, and never
dance except in the temple or at religious ceremonies.

The numerous processions soon arrive on the quays, which then present a
truly fairy-like scene. The crowds, dressed in their holiday attire, group them-
selves on the broad stairs of the ghats, the steps of which are not visible for the
unceasing streams of Brahmins and bayaderes surrounding the idols; and the
river itself is covered with thousands of boats gaily adorned with flags. These
THE RA¥AH OF BENARES. 575

boats are long skiffs, some with sails and some with oars. Their prows rise erect
out of the water, and terminate in the figure of a bird or a quadruped ; the centre,
and sometimes the stern, being covered by a light pavilion supported by elegant
gilt pillars. The idols, with the Brahmins and bayadéres, take their places in the
boats, which are ranged in order, and defile before the quays; and the songs and
noise of instruments, and the clamours of the crowd fill the air. The procession
on the water continues until sunset; when, immediately upon the disappearance
of the resplendent orb, tle boats come to a standstill, and the idols are solemnly
flung into the waters of the sacred stream. But the festival does not terminate
there. The quays soon become full of light, fireworks burst out on all sides, and
boats ornamented with lanterns line the vast bay in every direction. Now it is
that the Europeans and the wealthy Hindoos in their turn enter their boats, and,
taking with them nautchnis and musicians, proceed to take part in the night
féte, and enjoy the unrivalled spectacle afforded by this scene, worthy of the
Indian Venice.

Benares, although an English town, nevertheless possesses its rajah, a
' representative of the ancient race of the kings of Kasi. This prince has, however,
only the bare title of king, without any of its attributes; and he contents
himself with enjoying like a true nobleman the very handsome fortune the
English have left to him. His palace, situated on the right bank of the Ganges,
a league above the city, is a very picturesque group of edifices, crowning a
large wharf washed by the stream. I should have much liked to see this prince,
who is said to be very intelligent and amiable; all the more for his being the
first English rajah (they are so designated to distinguish them from the independent
sovereigns) I had met on my travels; but he had been absent for some days
on a journey, and I had to be satisfied with inspecting his fine residence of
Ramnugguyr.
CHAPTER LVII.
BEHAR.

The Bridge of the Séne—Behar, the Ancient Magadha.—Patna.—Ancient Palibothra.—The
Mineral Waters of Sita-Khound.—The Kurruckpore Hills.—Sultangunge.—The |Buddhist
Monastery.—The Island of Dévinath_—Bhagulpore.—The Idol of Mandar.—The Legend of
the Shepherd.—The Rajmahal Hills.—Sontals and the Malers,—A Sontal Village.—Gaya,
—The Caves of Behar.

heat became so intense that we had to hasten to reach Calcutta,
lest the journey, even by rail, should be impossible. The
month of May is the most terrible season in Bengal, and all
the public funtionaries and officers who are not detained by
- their business hasten to get to Simla, Mussoorie, Nyna Tal, and
the other sanitoria of the Himalayas. How heartily did I regret that, instead
of following their example, I should be compelled at such a season to set out
towards the unwholesome plains of Behar; but I had no alternative. To return
to the Himalayas would be to lose six months, and in six months I hoped to be
in Paris.

At nine we crossed the Sdéne on a magnificent tubular bridge, a masterpiece
of modern engineering. From our carriage we could see the blue and limpid
water of this splendid stream spreading itself eighty feet beneath us in the middle
of a sea of white sand, above which towered like palaces clusters of tara palm-trees,
their straight smooth trunks supporting thick roofs of foliage.

On the other side of the river we entered Behar, the ancient empire of
Magadha, whose name recalls the innumerable Viharas which formerly overspread
this province. One would think the stroke of a magic wand had transported us
into the midst of an enchanting landscape. ‘The richest and most exuberant
vegetation succeeded to the poverty of the plains we had just crossed., Palm-trees
and mango-trees, half hidden by thick curtains of climbing plants and creepers,
rose in the midst of extensive rice-fields of an emerald-green tint; while bananas,
date-trees, plantations of the oily-leafed pan, and fields of flowering poppies
surround the villages. We had returned to the tropical India we had lost sight
of since we left Bombay.

At eleven we stopped at Patna, the capital of Behar, which extends its vast
districts, intersected with marshes and gardens, over a length of eight miles on
the right bank of the Ganges.

The latest researches of archeologists have finally. established the identity of

 
TOWN OF PATNA. , 577

modern Patna with the ancient Palibothra, the capital of the Mauryas emperors,
visited by the Greek ambassadors of the successors of Alexander; but the town
possesses nothing to recall those great memories. Its small and dirty bazaars are

CORN-CHANDLER OF PATNA.

 

 

lined with frightful brick buildings, side by side with paltry bamboo huts. On
the other hand, vegetation seems everywhere to dispute space with men; palm-
trees are growing on all sides, and the roofs of the houses are hidden under festoons

of creeping plants.
20
578 INDIA.

I halted at Patna, however, merely to start thence on an excursion southwards
as far as Behar and Gaya. I was anxious to take note of the principal Buddhist
antiquities of the province, and to retrace the route of Hiouen Thsang through
the sacred region of the Viharas. In a fortnight we returned from this expedition,
which was of purely archeological interest, and, taking the rail, were conveyed in
a few hours to Monghyr.

The town is seated on a sort of promontory commanding the Ganges. It is
chiefly inhabited by European planters, and its pretty houses, surrounded by well-
kept little gardens, give it a very pleasant character. At a short distance to the
east, little hills of insignificant height project their steep cuttings down to the
brink of the river, forcing it to make frequent curves. They form the extreme
point of the vast range of the Vindhyas; which we had thus traversed from one
extremity to the other, that is from the land of the Bheels to the Ganges. To
the south of Monghyr, however, they assume greater proportions, and form the
picturesque chain of the Kurruckpore hills, that extend between Behar and the
mountainous region of the Terai jungle.

These mountains, whose highest ridges do not exceed fourteen hundred feet,
are covered with vast forests, in the midst of which, in miserable hovels, live
savages of the Kélee race. Mineral springs are reported to be found here in
abundance. Those nearest to Monghyr are situated at about five miles’ distance,
and are dedicated to Sita. Their waters, to which the Indians attribute wonderful
virtues, spring from the rock with a temperature between 70 and 80 degrees, but
they do not apparently contain any active salt in solution.

From Monghyr, leaving the railroad for a time, we embarked in a large
native boat, which took us in a few hours, by the help of wind and current, to
Sultangunge, where a kind indigo-planter had offered us hospitality. His
bungalow, the only European habitation in the country, is situated on the summit
of an eminence on the right bank of the streain, and its position is extremely
picturesque. There we commanded a view of the Ganges, which, in its course
westward, expanded into the aspect of a sea, with a rich and verdant country
spreading on all sides round it; and at the very foot of the eminence lay the sacred
island of Dévinath, a curious mass of granite needles crowned by a Hindoo temple.
The rocks bear numerous images on their surface, whose rough execution and
primitive style attest their antiquity.

Sultangunge, now a simple agricultural village, must once have been of great
importance, for quite recently a large Buddhist monastery has been discovered in
its neighbourhood. The excavations made in the centre of the court of the
Vihara have brought to light a magnificent bronze statue of Buddha, measuring
nine feet in height. It is one of the finest existing specimens of antique Hindoo
art.

From Monghyr we proceeded by rail to Bhagulpore, a small English town,
also on the right bank of the Ganges.

South of Bhagulpore, in the centre of the vast plain separating the Kurruck-
pore from the Rajmahal mountains, stands an isolated peak of a singular shape,
to which the natives have given the name of Mandar. Mr. H. , our obliging
host at Sultangunge, proposed to accompany us on an excursion to these moun-
tains, which, he said, were very curious, and with the hope of coming across one
of the numerous tigers which infest the vicinity.

 
MOUNT MANDAR. aes

‘We started on horseback from Bhagulpore very early in the morning, and
reached Mount Mandar at eleven o’clock, dying with thirst and half roasted by
the sun. At the foot of the mount, however, a good luncheon awaited us under
the tent which Mr. H—— had tagen the precaution of sending on the evening

IDOL OF MANDAR, NEAR BHAGULPORE.

 

before by two of his elephants. After the heat of the day had subsided, we
proceeded to explore the peak, a mass of bare granite that rises almost perpen-
dicularly to a height of 600 feet. Our first steps introduced us to numerous

traces of human work, showing that this spot, now so deserted, must have been
580 INDIA.

in ancient times the object of frequent pilgrimages. All around were fragments
of sculptures, and on the borders of a small nearly dried-up pond lay overthrown
columns. Thence a staircase, hewn in the rock, ascended the mountain, and at
about half-way to the top led to an excavation occupied by a colossal head.
This head, roughly carved in the solid rock measures about fifteen feet in height ;
it is placed on a sort of platform, and wears a primitive diadem with festooned
edge. The period to which this figure dates back is totally unknown. The
Indians themselves have no veneration for it, considering it to be the work of the
Sontéls or the Kolees. On the summit of the hill stands an insignificant little
modern temple.

On returning to our tent, I consulted Hiouen Thsang’s book, which had for
some time past been an infallible guide, searching to see whether the scrupulous
Chinese traveller had mentioned Mount Mandar and its colossal idol. And, sure
enough, the excellent pilgrim relates, under the division of Champa (modern
Bhagulpore), that according to a local legend, a shepherd, having penetrated into
one of the caverns of the forest, found some marvellous fruit there, which he
stole; and, as he was on the point of issuing from the cavern, he perceived a
genius who was guarding its entrance. To conceal his theft, he hurriedly
swallowed the fruit; his body immediately became enlarged, and filled up the
opening to the cave. “In course of time,” says Hiouen Thsang, “it has gradually
turned into stone, but has retained its human shape. This stone exists to the
present day.” Herein I think it is easy to recognise the idol of the Mandar; the
antiquity of which would therefore date back to the first centuries of our era, if
not earlier, since its origin was unknown even in the seventh century.

While I was engaged in these archeological researches, our companion, Mr.
H , was busy discussing with the natives, who were to beat the woods for us.
Some officers from Dinapore, who had recently come to hunt in the plain near
the Kurruckpore Mountains, having had the good fortune to kill two tigers, our
shikarees were of opinion that we should start in an opposite direction, that is,
towards the Rajmahal Mountains, if we desired to enjoy the same sport. We
passed the night therefore at the foot of Mount Mandar, and the next moming,
before daybreak, proceeded towards the Rajmahals, which spread their line of
ridges about ten miles to the east.

The Rajmahal Mountains, which are sometimes supposed to form part of the
range of the Vindhyas, compose a completely isolated group of that chain, and
belong to an absolutely distinct geological formation. They extend in a northerly
direction on the western frontier of Bengal from Birbhoum to the Ganges. They
are inhabited by the Sontals—a primitive race which seems to belong to the same
family as the Gounds—and by the Malers, a tribe of a still more primitive type.
The Sontals are industrious, and, unlike the other aboriginal races, occupy them-
selves with agriculture ; and they inhabit villages which are generally composed
of about a hundred huts, very elegantly built of plaited bamboo, with rounded
roofs and verandahs. Of a proud and intrepid nature, they seem very jealous of
their independence, which they have defended many times even against the
English themselves. Their costume is of the simplest description—a turban,
and a piece of linen round the loins, for the men; and a -piece of stuff rolled
round the legs and the bust, for the women, who adorn themselves besides with
innumerable necklaces of glass and of shells (cowries) and heavy brass bracelets.

 
THE SONTALS. 581

: The religion of the Sontals is a coarse naturalism. Wooden beams, squared
o tani with red ochre, supporting a sort of rough lingam, are their idols;
they offer up sacrifices of buffaloes, and more frequently still of goats. The

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SONTALS.

priest, or sacrificer, strikes off the head of the animal with a single blow of a long

knife, and then sprinkles the idol and the people present with the blood of the

he villages and near their idols, they raise light

victim. At the entrance to t
platforms of bamboo, on which they place trophies of the animals of the forest.
582 INDIA.

They are bold hunters, and in recent years have destroyed the numerous herds of
elephants which infested the mountain and ruined their harvests.

The Sontadls are divided into tribes, under the rule of elected chiefs, who are
aided by a council of elders in the administration of public business. Their
number at the present time is calculated at eighty-five thousand.

The Malers, who inhabit the higher parts of the Rajmahals, are very inferior
in physical and moral qualities to the Sontals, who, having been themselves
expelled from the plain by the Thibetian and Aryan races, have driven them into
the most inaccessible parts of the mountain.

We established our camp not far from a small Sontal village, and the inhabi-
tants speedily signalled to us the presence in the neighbourhood of several of the
animals we were in search of.

The months of April and May are, as I have before remarked, the most
favourable for tiger hunting. The intense heat which characterises this season
soon drying up the rivulets and pools of the forests, the tiger is forced to abandon
his winter quarters and to descend into the valleys for the purpose of quenching
his thirst at the wells or jheels of the villages. He then usually settles his abode
in some ravine full of underwood, in which he passes the day in sleep, and
which he does not quit until towards sunset, to choose his prey from among
the herds led to water. An adult tiger usually kills an ox every four or five
days.

The village of Daragaum, near which we were encamped, had lost four oxen
in this manner during the last fortnight, carried off by two tigers who had
fraternally chosen for their residence a ravine distant about a mile therefrom.
The shikaree, or chief hunter of the village, had indeed attempted to dislodge
them from their haunt, but the want of trees in its vicinity had prevented him
from lying in wait, and he dared not to venture on foot among the thick under-
wood which surrounded the nullah. During the day we went with the shikaree
as far as the ravine to examine its approaches and arrange our plan of attack.
It was a sort of wide hollow, with moderately steep slopes running down from a
wood, and its extreme end was intersected by some little pools of limpid water
shaded by thick groves of “ wait-a-bit bush” and bamboos. It was here that the
two tigers were concealed. Having carefully examined the ground, we saw that
no tree thereabouts was situated so as to favour the plan of a fixed ambush;
and, on the other hand, to penetrate on foot amongst the underwood would have
been mad temerity. We therefore resolved to employ the two elephants we had
brought with us, and to attack the tigers the next morning.

Up to this time I had hunted tigers only by means of an ambush, or in a
battue, with the exception of one occasion at Nagoda; on which I accompanied
General B—— on the back of an elephant; for the latter system of hunting
demands a thorough acquaintance with the habits of this terrible feline animal.

“It is generally imagined,” says Captain Forsyth in his remarkable work on
_ hunting in Central India, “that it is sufficient to mount an elephant and go into
the jungle where a tiger has been signalled, to be sure of finding him and killing
him; but this is a profound mistake. Several hunters mounted on elephants, and
beating in a line across the forest, may certainly meet with tigers in this way, and
slaughter them, especially if aided by a line of native beaters. But there is no
species of hunting in which a more thorough knowledge of the habits of the animal,
TIGER HUNTING WITH THE ELEPHANT. 583

or more perseverance and skill, are necessary than in the pursuit of a tiger with
a single elephant.

7 On entering the jungle for the first time, it is impossible to avoid experiencing
a certain degree of trepidation, so complete is the persuasion that tigers will be
seen at every step; and it is only after fruitlessly passing whole days in searching
for them that the little danger these animals present in the jungle begins to be
realised. During the ten years I passed wandering on foot over.the districts of
Central India most infested by tigers, it only happened to me three times to meet
with these animals when I was not seeking them. In fact, if we except the
places inhabited by the man-eating tigers, which are always known, there is no
danger in crossing the jungle. Many hunters affect to disdain the use of elephants
in the pursuit of the tiger, and talk much of the exploits accomplished by them
in meeting him face to face. As a general rule, nine-tenths of the tigers which
are asserted to have been killed on foot have been struck from the top of some
high-perched ambush. From this manner of hunting it results that the tiger
generally is only wounded; and the real danger then is to follow him to his
retreat—a danger most sportsmen take care not to brave. The few hunters who
have made it a point of honour only to attack the tiger on foot always end by
being killed, or by getting a wound that effectually cures them of their rash
folly. A man on foot, in the midst of a dense thicket, is defenceless against the
tiger. It is impossible for him to distinguish anything at even a few yards’
distance in front of him; and he is himself at the mercy of the animal, which
can completely hide itself at will, or circumvent him without awakening his
attention. It must not be supposed, however, that tiger-hunting on the back
of an elephant does not offer any danger. The hunter is exposed to the attacks
of the tiger, which often succeeds in overthrowing the elephant, or in starting him
panic-stricken through all the obstructions of the forest.”

We fortunately had Mr. H——— with us for our guide. He had repeatedly
hunted both the tiger and the elephant, and was as eminent a sportsman as the
officer whose interesting remarks I have just quoted. The two elephants, more-
over, he had brought had been tested in frequent encounters, and we could rely
on their calmness and courage.

During the night the tigers approached our camp several times, and we could
hear them calling each other. At daybreak we left our tent, and proceeded slowly
towards the ravine, accompanied by the shikaree. Mr. H—-— was mounted on
one elephant, and I on the other, and each animal was driven by a mahout. We
started early in the hope of meeting one of the animals out of his lair; but al-
though the sand of the nullah which passes near the village, and the bed of which
we were following, bore numerous recent footprints, the tigers had already re-
entered the thicket. We therefore continued our progress slowly towards the
ravine; the arrangement being that I should remain with the shikaree on one
side, while Mr. H—-— went round by the nullah, and, descending the opposite
slope, dislodged the tigers. I had scarcely reached the limits of the wood
extending along the ravine when I perceived one of them, at a distance of a
‘hundred paces before me, walking along at a quiet measured pace. Just as I
was on the point of aiming, the animal disappeared behind a bush. | It happened
‘that at that very instant Mr. H——— appeared on the opposite height; and the
tiger, having caught sight of him, issued from the thicket, and advanced stealthily,
584 INDIA.

with his tail lowered, precisely in my direction. I was about sixty paces from
him; and, taking aim, I sent him a ball in the ribs while the animal, who had
not sighted me, turned his head to follow the movements of my companion.
Uttering a terrible roar, he sprang in the air, and re-entered the thicket. My
mahout urged his elephant onwards, and we were soon in the bed of the nullah,
whence we could see the tiger, two hundred yards away from us, escaping towards
the wood. Mr. H——, who had been watching his movements and had anti-
cipated him, stopped him with a shot. The wounded tiger, seeing himself
surrounded, marched straight towards my companion; whereupon his elephant,
dreading the encounter, suddenly turned round and took to flight: but the
infuriated brute soon came up with him, and with one bound clung to his hind
quarters. A shudder ran through me: I thought our friend was lost. A few

 

 

TIGER-HUNTING WITH THE ELEPHANT.

yards only divided us, and the mahout urged my elephant forward by his cries,
when Mr. H , firing full in the face of the tiger, rolled him over to the ground.
He was a thoroughly desperate animal, for, rising again, he rushed this time upon
my elephant, which had at length arrived on the scene of action; but, even as he
made his effort to fasten on to its leg, I shattered his back with a ball, and he fell
back expiring. We severally gave him another ball, however, to make quite sure
of his death.

Dismounting from my elephant, I went up to my friend, and, shaking him by
the land, congratulated him on having so coolly met the first attack of the tiger.
We then examined our victim. He was a thorough royal tiger, in the prime of
life; his coat, of an orange colour, was marked with superb black and white
stripes; and from the muzzle to the extremity of the tail he measured rather
more than three yards, which is a good moderate size for an adult tiger. Our

 
GAYA, , 585

elephants proclaimed their delight even more noisily than our huntsmen. The
enormous beasts came to scent the carcase of their dead enemy, and turned it
over with their trunks, uttering hoarse cries accompanied by a regular flourish
of trumpets. é

The second tiger had prudently slunk out of the ravine during the hubbub,
but the next day Mr. H—— and Schaumburg surprised him at about three miles’
distance from the village.

A few days afterwards we had the rare luck to kill a couple of bears in a
wood adjoining our camp. The bear of the Rajmahals is smaller than that of
Cashmere; his fur is long and black; and his paws, which are very large, are
armed with claws of. a formidable length. Nevertheless, it is an inoffensive and
even a useful animal, for it feeds chiefly on rats and insects, and sometimes on
roots.

On the 26th May we returned to Bhagulpore, having killed during our excur-
sion, besides the two tigers and two bears, a fine sAmbur stag, five ravine deer,
several antelopes and wild boars, and a quantity of birds. We here took leave
of Mr. H——, to whom we were indebted for our last hunting-excursion in
India.

This excursion occupied a fortnight. I successively visited all the celebrated
spots of this holy land of Buddhism: Rajeriha, the favourite resort of Sakya; the
cave of Hansa Taur, where the first synod assembled; Pawapouri, where the
divine prophet died; and Gaya, where beneath the sacred tree he resisted for
forty days- the demon Maya (illusion), and overthrew him. Unfortunately, in
most of these places the ruins only present mounds of bricks, generally shape-
less, on which at long intervals lie some fine fragments of sculpture; and there
the archeologist alone, by following and comparing the Chinese and Cingalese
texts, can succeed in discovering the chaityas, the tépes, and the viharas, whose
astonishing magnificence and prodigious number made this fine land a vast sanc-
tuary and monastery. It is only by reanimating these ruins with the aid of
Hiouen Thsang and Fa Hian that I could hope to give the reader an adequate
idea of all these places, which have played so important a part, although so little
known, in our own philosophical and religious history, as well as in that of India.
But space fails me to enter now upon such a subject. I shall content myself
with saying a few words on Gaya and the caves of Behar.

Gaya, after having been one of the centres of Buddhism, is now a place of
Brahminic pilgrimage, as celebrated as Benares or the temple of Juggernaut.
More than a hundred and fifty thousand pilgrims go there every year to bathe in
the sacred waters of the Phalgoo, which winds at the foot of the rock, and especi-
ally to prostrate themselves before the footprints of Vishnu in the famous temple
of Vishnu-Pad. This temple, rebuilt only a few years ago by Queen Ahélya
Bhai of Indore, on the site of a very ancient edifice, is situated in the middle of
a regular labyrinth of courts, temples, and convents of very singular appearance.
Europeans are not always admitted to gaze upon the celebrated footmark left by
Vishnu on the rock when descending upon the earth to crush the demon
Gaya.

The scene presented by the crowds around this temple surpassed all that I
had ever yet seen at Poshkur, Benares, and other similar places. The unfortunate
pilgrims uttered howls of ecstasy; men and women pushed and squeezed to get
586 INDIA.

near the sanctuaries, to which the Brahmins permit entrance only on payment of
a fee.

At a little distance south of Gaya are the ruins of the celebrated Buddhist
establishments which had been erected round the famous peepul of Buddha, The
Brahmin pilgrims still adore this tree, or that which has replaced it in succession
in the same spot for two thousand five hundred years. The existing one is
scarcely more than two or three hundred years old, and does not seem likely to
live much longer, having lost nearly all its branches. It stands at the top of a
terrace, the authentic Buddhist origin of which is easily recognised by the frag-
ments of the balustrade surrounding it, which repeats the style of Sanchi; and
before the sacred object stands a brick temple, which Cunningham believed to be
the edifice raised by Asoka about the year 250 B.C.

The grottoes, or chambers hewn in the rock by the hand of man, are very
numerous in the environs of Gaya and Behar, and are of singular archeological
interest, as being the most ancient monuments of the kind ever hewn in India.
They are for the most part only small cubic rooms, cut with great labour in the
rock, which is syenitic granite, and. are completely destitute of ornament: one
only, the Lomas-Richi Cave, in the hill of Baraba, exhibits some sculpturings on
its fagade; and in general their inner walls are completely polished—a_peculi-
arity not observed in any other grottoes in India. Among them are some dating
from a very remote antiquity, long previous to Buddhism. Of this number is
the cave of Sattipani, situated in the hill of Baibarghiri, near Rajgriha, which
had attained antiquity even so far back as the time of King Adjatasatra, who
chose it as the place of assembly for the first Buddhist synod, on the rst of July
of the year 543 before our era. In the facade still may be seen the holes in
which were inserted the beams of the hall built at the entrance to the cave, for
the accommodation of the five hundred prelates who composed this celebrated
assembly.
CHAPTER LVIII.

BENGAL.

A Night on the Railroad.—Bengal.—Rajmahal.—The Ruins of Gaur.—Moorshedabad.—The
Bengalese.—The Nawab Nazim.—The Plains of the Delta—Burdwan.—The Maharajah.
—Pandouah.—Shah Soufi’s Pike-—Chandernagore.—The French Colony.—The Triveni of
Hooghly.—Chinsurah.—Calcutta,

E took our tickets at Bhagulpore for Azimganges, the station
for Moorshedabad. As the train left at two in the morning,
we were placed in one of the comfortable sleeping-carriages
which the East Indian Railway has recently introduced on its
lines. These carriages contain only two compartments, in each
of which there is but a single seat, the movable back of which
takes off, and, being fastened by straps, forms a sort of couch of the same de-
scription as the beds used in ships’ cabins. On the opposite side of the carriage
are two closets—one for the toilet, the other for convenience. By paying a
slight addition to the price of the ordinary places, you may thus travel sur-
rounded by all the comforts so essential in this country. I had, however, already
experienced the utility of this invention in a previous journey I made on the
East Indian line; but anxiety not to interrupt the course of my narrative forbade
reference to it earlier.

During my first stay in Agra, in 1866, I had written to Calcutta to have the
chemical materials and plates necessary in photography sent on to me from that
city. My letter not having reached its destination, I waited for the packet some
days; when, seeing nothing arrive, I. determined to go myself to Calcutta to
fetch those. articles, without which it was impossible for me to continue my
journey. Leaving Agra one morning at six, I arrived at Calcutta three days
afterwards, during the night; and, after a stay of twenty-four hours in the town,
I returned to Agra, thus accomplishing the entire distance in seven days and a
half. Thanks to the sleeping-carriages, I had been able to travel over this
immense distance with comparatively little fatigue—sleeping at night on a
comfortable little bed, and walking up and down in my carriage during the day ;
and, at stations unprovided with buffets, I found a servant who, when he had
taken the orders for my meal, telegraphed on to the next station, where my
breakfast or dinner awaited my arrival. ;

The Anglo-Indian Companies are making praiseworthy efforts to succeed in
rendering long journeys by rail possible even in summer. Thus travellers pro-
ceeding from Bombay to ‘Calcutta by the express trains now are accommodated

  
588 INDIA.

with carriages with cuscas swathed in mattings, which are kept moist by reservoirs
specially provided for the purpose. This moisture, enveloping the carriage, pre-
serves the temperature at a degree of coolness sufficient almost to extinguish the

 

 

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risk of incurring sun-stroke or apoplexy, at one time so frequent on these journeys.

But to return to our journey from Bhagulpore to Moorshedabad. After a
good night’s rest, passed on the seat of the carriage, I awoke to see the sun
already flooding with its rays the beautiful green plains which extend along a
MOORSHEDABAD. 589

picturesque little chain. of hills, notched out like sharp pyramids. We were
entering into Bengal Proper, and these hills were the extreme point of the group
of the Rajmahals. From this point the line, which from Agra pursues an easterly
direction, following the course of thg Jumna and the Ganges, turns off abruptly
and runs towards the south, parallel with the Hooghly, the extreme western
branch of the great network of the Lower Ganges.

We soon reached the station of Teen Pahar (the Three Mountains), so called
from the vicinity of three curious volcanic craters, one of which, it is said, shows
every now and again signs of activity ; and somewhat farther to the east is Raj-
mahal, the ancient capital of Western Bengal.

The Ganges reign paramount over this land, which it has itself created with
the clay it has brought down from Hindostan. Suddenly it issues from its bed,
inundates the plains, overthrows towns and ravages the harvests; and then, after
having made its fury duly felt by its unhappy subjects, it completely abandons
its old course, and opens for itself new paths towards the ocean through the
swampy, muddy land. There is therefore scarcely any part of Bengal which has
not, at some time or another, formed the bed of one of the arms of the Ganges.
Often, while digging in the middle of a rice-field several leagues distant from the
river, frameworks of boats are discovered, and even of vessels, which had sunk in
the deep waters that formerly covered the fields of the present day. It was
partly owing to one of these freaks of the Ganges that the famous Gaur, the
splendid capital of Bengal, fell in a few years from the greatest prosperity to
complete ruin. The river, after ravaging it, left it to flow at a distance from the
city ; and people now gaze with astonishment at its long lines of wharves, rising
with their flights of innumerable stairs from the midst of trees and bushes.

At ten o'clock we stopped at the station of Nulhattee, whence a short line
branches off to Moorshedabad.

This town, one of the most important in Bengal, extends for several miles on
either side of the Bhagarati, a great offset of the Ganges. Imagine an assemblage
of huts of the most wretched appearance, with walls made of straw matting
suspended to stakes, and with roofs of palm-thatch half battered in by the rain;
muddy streets without pavements, overrun with water and weeds, in which it is
scarcely possible to make a step without slipping ; and above the huts rising, at
intervals, high-terraced brick houses. To these add, by way of monuments, vast
buildings of strange design, wherein stately rows of columns enframe arched
Moorish windows; and the uniform blackness produced by the damp reminding
the traveller of the architectural perspectives of Pall Mall. Such is Moorshedabad,
and such are all the towns in English Bengal. What an immense difference from
the handsome bazaars, elegant dwelling-houses, and sumptuous palaces of the
towns of Rajasthan, and even of Hindostan! And to think that it is from such
specimens as these that many people, who have seen only Calcutta and some parts
of Bengal, presume to judge of all India !

And then the inhabitants! Here the contrast is perhaps more striking still.
I don’t know what impression the first sight of the Bengalese produces on the
traveller arriving from Europe; but, speaking for myself just come from the
interior of India, I must say that I stood bewildered at the sight of these people,
with their white togas, beardless faces, bare heads, and hair arranged in a fashion
like Romans of the Decline. How can the Bengalee, with his meagre slender
590 INDIA.

limbs, be compared with the fine robust Sikh, or the honest and loyal Rajpoot, or
the vigorous Hindoo? He has nothing of the Aryan but his tongue, and only
little of the delicacy of feature; but, in all other respects, he is simply a close
relative of the Chinese family, as is the Burman.

In coming to Moorshedabad, I was especially desirous to see the Nawab
Nazim, the last descendant of the celebrated Nawabs of Bengal. I went, there-
fore, to the palace, and sent up our cards to the prince, accompanied by a short
note informing him who we were; but this exalted personage, doubtless mistaking
our intentions, sent word in reply that he could receive only officials. I had the
opportunity, however, of seeing the Nawab of Moorshedabad again, two. years
later, in Paris. ‘

Before going to Calcutta, I had still to try and visit the Maharajah of
Burdwan, one of those English rajahs whom chance and ill-luck had hitherto
prevented me from approaching. We took the rail again, therefore, for Burdwan.
On returning to the Nulhattee station, we reproceeded towards the south.
Nothing was now to be seen but vast and monotonous plains, covered with a
continuous carpet of verdure of an emerald green, and occasionally dotted with
large clusters of taras and palm-trees. The mango-tree, the peepul, and the nim,
those enormous-trunked trees, with their thick dark foliage so thoroughly charac-
teristic of the plains of the interior, had almost entirely disappeared. The villages
were masses of shapeless huts of palm-leaves, loam coated, and invaded on all
sides by the exuberant vegetation which surrounds them, half buried in the
numerous marshes. The sun striking the stagnant water of the rice-fields caused
columns of steam to rise from them, which formed a sort of bluish veil that
covered the ground, and faintly shaded the outlines of the trees. Water is
visible everywhere ; the labourer’s spade, turning over the clods of earth, discovers
large pools. All the ground of this vast delta is simply mud, barely covering an
immense stream with a dry layer of soil. In fact, two-thirds of Bengal is neither
land nor water, but a muddy compound, which only the tropical sun can succeed
in extracting from the liquid element. With any other climate Bengal would be
a mere unapproachable swamp; and from this continual struggle between sun
and water spring those miasmata which, aggravated by a vegetation of abnormal
richness, form a subtle poison. This poison is no other than the terrible Asiatic
cholera, which, originating on these green plains, has been conveyed by pious
Hindoos towards the western sanctuaries, and, thence carried by Mussulman
pilgrims to Mecca, has at last propagated itself as far as our own Europe. Cholera,
in fact, reigns permanently in these villages ; and, buried as they are in the rice-
fields, and stifled under creeping plants and the dark canopies of the palm-trees
residence therein, however short, proves fatal to the European.

Rice forms the wealth of these districts, and is almost their sole produce, its
long bright green clusters flourishing in the sodden earth, and its grains swelling
to an enormous size in the midst of the moisture. Each field is enclosed between
small dykes, a few feet high, designed to shut in the water; and their regular
lines give the plain the appearance of a gigantic draught-board.

On nearing Burdwan, we saw large clusters of palm-trees of majestic bearing,
their long leaves spread out like domes, and—our eyes contemplated them with
astonishment—cocoa-trees! Yes; cocoa-trees! the first we had seen since we
left the borders of the Gulf of Cambay. I never weary of admiring their broad
BURDWAN. 591

plumes swaying at the summit of a flexible trunk, like some gigantic rocket,
which, bursting, leaves a black train behind it. To have lived six years in India,
and then to go into ecstasies abéut a cocoa-tree, may seem a strange thing to the
reader. But perhaps he will be stil] more surprised if I tell him that the cocoa-
tree is common only on the coasts of India, that it grows only along the shores
in the narrow zone vivified by the sea breezes; and that beyond this, in the
vast interior of the continent, it is totally unknown, and regarded as a curiosity,
only to be reared at a great expense, and with much trouble, in the gardens of
palaces. From Baroda to this spot I had met with scarcely half-a-dozen cocoa-
trees; and all that the traveller. over the greater portion of Rajasthan and
Hindostan sees, in the shape of palms, are scanty date-trees, neither larger nor
more productive than those which tourists admire on the coasts of Provence. The
hotel at which we alighted at Burdwan is situated near the station; and imme-
diately on our arrival I wrote a few lines to the maharajah, begging him to grant
us an interview.

Burdwan, one of the principal towns of Western Bengal, is both the chief
town of an English district, and the capital of a dependent principality. The
district is politically under the control of the English Government, but it also
contains the large estates of the titular maharajah, who manages them in his own
way. There is not’ another district in all India richer or more populated, and
the dense numbers of its inhabitants exceed those of the most populous parts of
China. It is reckoned that, if all India were peopled in the same proportion as
the zillah of Burdwan, it would contain eight hundred millions of inhabitants,
instead of two hundred millions. The happy owner of. this magnificent land, a
real kingdom, is certainly the most fortunate sovereign in the world. He has
neither army nor judicial administration to keep up; no fear either of wars or of
revolutions; and, on the other hand, he enjoys. all the advantages of royalty-—
pompous titles, honours, and cannon salutes. This powerful potentate, more
sociable than his Moorshedabad colleague, in answer to my letter sent us his
English secretary with a carriage to conduct us to him.

Burdwan has less the appearance of a large and opulent city than of a
pioneers’ camp established in the middle of a forest. The huts, of even more
primitive aspect than those at Moorshedabad, are separated one from another by
dense thickets of cocoa-trees and arecas, projecting their long festoons of creepers
above the stagnant pools on which the broad leaves and pearly corollas of the
lotus, the sacred flower of the waters, lie spread; and the streets are wide, well-
kept alleys, above which the trees form a shady roof. The inhabitants, of the
purest Bengalee type, walk about almost entirely naked, their loins girt with
narrow cotton drawers, to which the rich add a tunic of transparent gauze; and
all go bare headed, with their hair dressed & la Romaine. Even the women wear
only a scanty white sarri, scarcely concealing the bosom, unrestrained by any
bodice.

The rajah’s palace, a vast building in the Anglo-Indian style, is situated in
the centre of a fine garden intersected by magnificent sheets of water. We were
received at the foot of the introductory steps by the prince’s kimdar, who, lead-
ing us across spacious rooms decorated with pictures and statues, and furnished
with thoroughly European luxury, brought us into a superb reception-room which
would do honour to any of our own most sumptuous national palaces.
592 INDIA.

Some minutes after our arrival the maharajah entered, and, advancing, shook
hands with each of us, bidding us welcome in perfect English, He was a man
of about forty years of age; and his rather homely features were intelligent and
pleasing. He wore the costume adopted by the reformers of the school of
“ Young India,” a European-fashioned frock-coat embroidered with gold, trousers,
and a high velvet cap of the prosaic shape honoured by the name of “ Greek.”
I shall presently have occasion to speak of this school of Young India, of which the
maharajah is one of the most eminent chiefs: here let it suffice to say that these
reformers aim at giving the Indian people civil and religious institutions which,
while preserving the national traditions, will be more in accordance with the
progress of modern civilisation. After a long and interesting conversation the
maharajah begged us to leave our hotel, and to accept a few days’ hospitality in
the habitation he has had built expressly for European visitors in the very centre
of his park.

This park, designed in the European style, has some views of great beauty.
The skilfully arranged groups of trees present an exquisite assemblage of plants
of the tropics and of temperate regions; rivulets wind on every side ; the expanses
of water are covered by a thousand birds, while deer, roes, and stags bound over
the turf ; and numerous kiosks and light chatris help one to enjoy at his ease the
beautiful scene. In one angle of the grounds are the elephants’ park, containing
about thirty of these animals, and a fine menagerie, in which the denizens of the
Indian forests are assembled—tigers, buffaloes, bears, apes, &c.

The maharajah returned our visit on the day following our arrival, and we
went out together in a carriage to visit a curious group of one hundred and eight
temples dedicated to Siva, which stand at the distance of a mile and a half from
the town, on the verge of a fine sheet of water. These temples are curious only
from their great number ; otherwise they are mere insignificant brick buildings.

After a few days’ rest at Burdwan we took the rail again. We now were
only seventy-four miles from Calcutta; but as we were in no hurry to reach the
town, at which our long journey would be terminated, we made another stop not
far from Burdwan, at the village of Pandouah, for the purpose of visiting some
celebrated antiquities.

Pandouah was, in 1339, the capital of the Brahminic kings of Bengal. At
that period, the Mussulman ambassador sent to that court by the emperor of
Delhi, Feroze Toghluck, being about to celebrate the birth of a son, invited his
friends to a banquet, in which he served up to them the flesh of an ox he had
secretly caused to be slaughtered. Not to offend the prejudices of the Brahmins,
he had the bones of the animal carefully buried; but unfortunately the jackals
unearthed the carcase, and the people, exasperated at the revelation, went to the
king to demand the life of the murderer of the ox. On the refusal of the sove-
reign, the fanatics attacked the residence of the ambassador, who succeeded in
escaping ; but the unhappy infant, who had been the unconscious agent of the
disaster, was taken and immolated as an expiatory sacrifice. The following year
Toghluck’s army marched against the king of Pandouah, who was defeated in a
pitched battle fought under the walls of the capital. The town itself was
invested by the Mussulmans, who took it only after a long siege. According to
the tradition, the citadel contained a pond, the miraculous waters of which
restored life to the soldiers killed in the contest; but the Mussulmans having

 
CHANDERNAGORE., : 593

succeeded in throwing a quarter of an ox into it, the sacred water was defiled,
and the Hindoos were forced to surrender.

To commemorate this battle of Pandouah, which gave them the superb empire
of Bengal, the conquerors raised a lofty tower of victory in the centre of the plain,
which is still visible at a little distance from the railway station. It is a cylin-
drical building, 120 feet high; and in its interior is placed a bar of iron, of the
same dimensions as the tower, and called Shah-Soufi-ka-Lat, or the pike of Shah
Soufi, the Mussulman general who gained the victory. At the foot of the tower
stands a fine mosque of gloomy and severe appearance, whose two hundred brick-
work cupolas produce some very curious acoustic effects.

The next train took us to the station of Muggra, near which is the ghat of
Triveni, one of the most sacred spots in Bengal. This triveni, or point of junc-
tion of three rivers, is like that of Allahabad, which my readers are already
acquainted with; only here, instead of marking the point where the Ganges, the
Jumna, and the mystic Sarasvati mingle their waters, it is supposed to indicate
the spot where these three streams separate, to flow separately towards the sea;
and in fact the Hooghly, or western arm of the Ganges, throws out here to the
right and the left two small canals which lose themselves in the inextricable
network of the delta. The ghat is a large and handsome flight of stairs over-
looking a very picturesque part of the course of the Hooghly ; and pilgrims come
here from very great distances, either to burn the bodies of their dead, or to purify
themselves in the trebly sacred waters. Not far from this spot are still to be
seen the ruins of a very ancient temple, as evidenced by the primitive form of
its doors and the originality of its ornaments. Towards the beginning of the
vulgar era, the neighbouring plain contained a large and prosperous city, the
celebrated Saptagrama (the city of the Seven Wise Men), one of the commercial
centres frequented by the Romans.

Re-entering our railway carriage, within an hour we came to a pause again ;
but this time on French ground, at Chandernagore. A few steps from the station
we perceived with emotion the tricolour flag proudly waving above the trees:
soon we were in the midst of fellow-countrymen and friends, and, for the first
time in the course of four years, heard the sound of the French tongue pronounced
by French lips. And yet, after this first emotion, which is always felt on setting
foot on ground sheltered by the national flag, we could not here avoid feeling
a heaviness at heart on casting a glance around. What! does this spot of earth
of a few square miles—this heap of low, dirty huts, invaded by water and
vegetation—represent all our Indian empire in the north? Dull streets without
life, bazaars without trade, a harbour without vessels,—such at the present day
is Chandernagore, which, in 1740, eclipsed Calcutta and governed Bengal. Why
does France persist in retaining this insignificant spot of ground? Is it to remind
us what we might have been in India, and of what we are? Is it for the military
importance of a place where treaties forbid us to keep more than fifteen soldiers ?
Would it not be better to efface all these melancholy souvenirs, and to withdraw
our flag from a locality in which it only receives humiliations? Unless, indeed,
the tribute of three hundred cases of opium, representing from 200,000 to
300,000 francs, which England pays us on the condition that we shall not

interfere with her monopoly, be deemed a sufficient compensation for these

humiliations.
2”
5904 INDIA.

Still, Chandernagore must be admitted to possess certain advantages ; such
as a very picturesque position on the right bank of the Hooghly, fine sites, and
a comparatively salubrious climate. If, therefore, it was resolved that we should
maintain this possession, at the very least these natural advantages should have

 

MOSQUE ON THE HOOGHLY, NEAR CALCUTTA.

been utilised. An unexpected opportunity occurred about fifteen years ago, when
the railway going up towards Delhi was being laid out, and Chandernagore was
proposed to be crossed by the line. A company was formed at Calcutta to con-
vert our colony into a sort of St. Cloud of the Indian capital: villas, a theatre,
CHANDERNAGORE. 595

and other places of amusement were to be built there; in a word, Europeans
were to be attracted to the spot, and to bring life into it; and, by way of com-
pensation, the company asked of the French Government the cession of the
ground necessary for the establishment of the line and of a station. The project
was sent to Paris to be submitted to the superior authorities, whence it returned
after a long delay. The Government consented to make the concession, but on
‘the condition that all the men employed by the company on the line and at the
station situated on French territory should be French. This was most ingenious!
And what was the result? The English company abandoned its project, and
made the line pass outside our territory; so that the railroad now carefully
avoids our colony, and the station, instead of being in the town, is two miles
away from it.

We were the object of a most agreeable and warm reception on the part of
the few officers composing the government of the colony, and among them we
passed several days which have left me the pleasantest of souvenirs. Accompanied
by Dr. M—-—, we made several interesting excursions in the neighbourhood :
to Hooghly, where there is a very curious mosque of quite a peculiar style; to
Bandel, where the most ancient Christian edifice in Bengal, a Catholic church
founded in 1599, is situated; and to Chinsurah, the ancient Dutch colony.
Finally, promising to return speedily to Chandernagore, we took the rail, and in
a few hours were in Calcutta.
CHAPTER LIX.

CALCUTTA.

The Town.—The Bazaars.—The Inhabitants.—The Baboos.—Young India.—The Brahmo-Soméj,
—The Churuk-Pooja.—Kalii—The Strand.—The Cyclones.—Excursion to Dacca.—J ugger-
naut:—The Ganges and the Brahmapoutra.—The Sunderbunds.—Diamond Harbour.—
Retrospective Glance.

HERE are few cities in Asia on which so much has been written
as on Calcutta, from the time of Jacquemont, whose letters give
us so delicate and correct a picture of Indo-European society
in this town, to the interesting description published by M.
Grandidier in the pages of the “Tour du Monde.” TI shall
therefore be very brief, and limit myself to pointing out some

particulars which may have escaped the observation of my predecessors.

When the traveller, arriving direct from Europe by sea, lands at Calcutta, he
cannot but be vividly impressed by the first view of the great Indian metropolis.
Emerging from the low ground, half inundated by water, which he has just crossed
on landing, he suddenly perceives a stately line of palaces surrounding an immense
esplanade; on all sides rise columns and belfries; enormous vessels crowd the
harbour; the busy crowds press on the quays; carriages and palanquins pass
backwards and forwards in picturesque tumult; in a word, everything reminds
him that he has before him one of the greatest cities in the world, the capital pf
an immense empire. Nor is the impression dissipated by his entry into the city.
He crosses squares that are worthy of London, and streets containing sumptuous
shops, lined with houses having the portals of Greek temples. But he soon leaves
all this magnificence: the streets change into muddy dark lanes ; and mean straw
huts, without any upper storeys, replace the palaces, and extend to the horizon of
the plain. Here, too, the districts are not distinctly marked as they are at
Bombay ; the hovel succeeds without interval to the palace.

The population itself is far from presenting the picturesque variety of types
which render Bombay so remarkable. With the exception of some Chinese and
Birmese, the inhabitants nearly all belong to the races of Northern India. Many
Hindostanis, Brahmins, and Marwaris are found, principally carrying on the money
trade; and the porters are, for the most part, natives of Orissa or of Birbhoim:
but the great majority of the people, and all the citizens, are Bengalese. As for
a titled aristocracy, it has long since disappeared and yielded its place to the
favourites of fortune.

The inferior classes merit Jittle notice. Ignorant and superstitious, they are

 
THE BABOOS. 597

especially distinguished by their defects—cowardice, cunning, and fanaticism; and
Indians generally may account for the libellous character ascribed to them, by the
fact that from study of the Bengalese the erroneous conclusion has been drawn
that all the nations of the vast Indian peninsula must answer to the same type.
The people of Calcutta are, in short, a sorry specimen of the Hindoo race ; but it
is not the same with the middling classes, who offer a very interesting subject for
study. Having been long in contact with Europeans, and being enriched by trade,
the Baboos (the appellation borne by the citizens of Bengal) have resolutely
entered on the path of progress, and placed themselves at the head of a movement

 

EUROPEAN HOUSE, CALCUTTA.

of renovation which may bring about the most happy results for the future
destinies of the Indian nation.

They readily recognised the fact that education would give them the most
powerful means of. attaining that equality which was denied to them by their
conquerors. They founded colleges, and set their children to the study of Euro-
pean sciences—medicine, law, and the practical arts; and very soon, to the great
astonishment of the English, the young Bengalees presented themselves in num-
bers ‘at the examinations for the Government situations, and they. were compelled
598 INDIA.

to authorise their admission. In a short time the Baboo element invaded the post-
offices, telegraphs, railways, tribunals, and administrations, as it had already
monopolised manufactures and trades. But the Baboos had thoroughly under-
stood that this progress could have no real importance until the day when they
should be freed from the thousand fetters of the Brahminic religion, and, more
difficult still, from the old social customs, more deeply rooted even than the
religious feeling itself.

To abandon Brahminism for Christianity would be a dangerous experiment,
as they would thus lose all influence over the masses of the population, The
Baboos chose a half-measure; instead of overthrowing, they reformed. One of
their number, Ram Mohun Roy, a philosopher well known and esteemed in
Europe, where he had travelled for some length of time, gave them the basis of a

 

LOW-CASTE BENGALESE.

new religion, the Brahmo-SomAj, which, while appearing to return to Vedism, was
in reality the adoption of certain modern philosophical ideas. The Brahmo-Somaj
recognises a single divinity, Brahma, the creating power; but leaves man all his
entire independence, and makes his future state depend upon his actions, and not
upon his religious practices. At present, however, it is only the outline of a
religion ; yet one to which its connection with ancient traditions, and a true
liberalism, promise a marked influence in the future of Bengal, nay, of all
India.

The Baboos had still another and more serious obstacle to remove, one which
they have yet succeeded only in shaking—that of the ancient customs. The
people had witnessed with indifference the formation of the Brahmo-Soméaj.
To their eyes it was only one sect more added to the three or four hundred
Hindoo sects; the. Baboos in any case kept to Brahma and the Vedas: but
‘YOUNG INDIA.” 599

Se ae known that they wanted to decree the equality of women, the
e es ion 0 girls, and the marriage of widows, their impassibility gave place to
indignation. Nevertheless, the most courageous members of the party, distin-

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MARWARI MERCHANTS,

 

guished by the title of Young India, went on to the end. They opened schools
for the girls, and several of them married widows. The period at which these
events took place signalised a mighty date in the history of India: it marked
the close of one era, and the opening of another.
600 INDIA,

In order to grasp the full significance of this true social revolution, it must
be known that, according to the Hindoo dogmas, women should be kept in
ignorance: the courtesan only should know how to read and write. As for the
widow, the religious law was inexorable for her. As soon as a woman had lost her
husband, her relations were bidden to take her and shave her hair; after which
they clothed her in the coarsest garments, and she was condemned to the hardest
labours of the household. Thenceforth she could wear neither silk, nor gold,
nor silver; she could not eat with her friends; she was compelled to be the
slave and servant of all. As for her marrying again, it was strictly forbidden to
her; and the man who might be hardy enough to offer her marriage would lose
lis caste and incur civil death. The widow formerly had a means of escaping
this life of torture; she could sacrifice herself as swétee—burn herself alive on
the body of her husband: but, after the English prohibited these sacrifices, the
poor woman had no other refuge from the severities of her people than the life
of a courtesan of the bazaar; she could not look to be even a nautchni.

Here, then, was a work of reparation and justice to invite the reformers.
It was no light undertaking to attack prejudices consecrated for nearly forty
centuries, and deeply rooted in the people; but its magnitude did not dishearten
these courageous men; and numbers of widows have been openly married to
honourable Baboos. We may henceforth look forward to the day when these
inhuman customs will have disappeared altogether.

The favourite divinity of the people of Calcutta is the bloodthirsty Kali, the
wife of Siva, the goddess of murder; whose altars formerly were sprinkled only
with human blood. Her idols are ewer represented surrounded by dead bodies
and skulls; in a word, there is no worship more odious or disgusting. It was
usually in the month of July or August that the great festival in honour of Kali
took place, when crowds assembled on a plain near the city, to assist at the
great ceremony of the Churuk-Pooja. .

This ceremony, the name of which signifies “to adore while turning,” con-
sisted of the following forms:—A sort of apparatus, similar to that used at our
fétes to make children go round on wooden horses, is fixed in the ground; and
at the end of each arm of this species of gallows hung a cord provided with
sharp-edged hooks, with which the fanatic votaries of Kali pierced their flesh.
The machine, being put in motion, carried the unfortunate creatures round as it
were in a whirlwind ; and they fell heavily to the ground where the weight of
the body and the rapidity of the movement at length tore away the. fragment of
flesh held by the hook.

The English Government having forbidden this custom, the fanatics now
content themselves with falling from a great height to the earth, lacerating their
bodies with iron hooks, and abandoning themselves to the wildest extravagances
to please the dark Kali. Happening to be at Calcutta at the time of the
Churuk-Pooja, I was invited by a Baboo to be present at the celebration of this
festival. The proposal did not fail to surprise me, but I accepted it without
remark. Great was my astonishment when, on arriving at the place where the
festival was held, I saw a respectable assemblage of Baboos occupying a circle of
chairs round a large piece of turf, in the midst of which rose a scaffolding
provided with trapezes, bars, cords, rings—in short, a complete gymnastic
apparatus. Soon after, a- number of boys and young men arrived, who very.
*

THE CHURUK-POOGA. Gor

cleverly executed some excellent feats of agility, under the direction of two
English soldiers. To the gymnasts succeeded an orchestra, also composed of
young Indians, who played us several pieces, and finally there came a chorus of

 

BRAHMINS OF BENGAL.

 

 

WG

 

children, who sang hymns in Bengalee. When the ee was ae
prizes were distributed to the children, who were afterwards invite to sit own
to a copious repast. “The greater part of these children,” said my ie aa
“belong to the poorest classes of the town, and yet there are numbers of young
602 INDIA.

Baboos among them. By providing for them pleasures and recreations which were
unknown to them before, we wean them from the sanguinary spectacles to which
they would otherwise have become attached; we elevate their minds, and prepare
them to become men. And this is how we celebrate the Churuk-Pooja.” It will
thus be seen that the Baboos of Calcutta deserve all sympathy from the Europeans.
Many of the English, however, alarmed at their increasing preponderance, treat
them with much contempt, and try to represent these reforms as vain ostentations,
Such is not my opinion. The Baboos are most steady and praiseworthy people;
and, if there is anything ridiculous about them, it is their name, which is as odd
in the Indian tongue as in French, and which I should advise them, while they
are about it, to change for one more euphonious.

I shall not speak of the life which Europeans lead at Calcutta. With the
upper English classes it is only a copy of high life in London; they dance, dine,
drink tea, and pay visits, tightly buttoned up in black coats, and wearing black
hats, exactly as they do in Belgravia. In the evening all the European -colony
display their toilettes and their equipages on the Strand, a short promenade with-
out trees along the banks of the river.

The Hooghly, the arm of the Ganges which waters the town, is nearly a mile
in breadth at this point, and lazily rolls its deep waters between low and not
very picturesque banks. Formerly innumerable corpses used to be seen floating
on its surface followed by flights of birds of prey, who tore them to pieces before
the very eyes of the passers-by. The English Government now prohibits the
inhabitants of the banks from throwing bodies into the stream; but, as the
practice was adopted only by those who were too poor to pay the expenses of a
funeral pile, they had to establish a sort of municipal pile, an immense tower,
whereon a brazier is constantly flaming, destined to devour the remains of the
poor wretches. On the right bank of the river, at a little distance above the
town, lie the magnificent Botanical Gardens with which the famous Hooker
endowed Calcutta, and which are without doubt at the present day the finest and
most spacious in the world. There may be found assembled together, not in
greenhouses but in the open air, and planted in the ground, the wonders of the
African, American, Asiatic, and Oceanic Floras. The principal curiosities are a
baobab of Senegal, the trunk of which does not measure less than thirty feet in
circumference ; and an Indian banyan, which overspreads a circumference of half
a mile with its numerous pilasters. Unfortunately, this last tree was seriously
damaged by the great cyclone of Calcutta.

The cyclone! What a sinister echo this word has in the great Indian
metropolis! No scourge exists that can be compared with it, and’ everything
trembles at its terrible power.

Every one has heard of the great cyclone which, in 1864, brought Calcutta
to within an inch of utter ruin. The wind, driving back the current of the
Hooghly with irresistible force, flung its waters from their bed like a moving
rampart, carrying with them the two hundred and forty vessels which were
anchored there, crushing them one against the other, and scattering desolation on
both banks of the stream. The atmospheric vortex, after this first calamity,
precipitated itself with diabolical rage on the unhappy city. At one stroke it
swept the poor districts of the natives, carrying away the huts, hurling their
fragments like dust to a distance, and snapping the flexible palm-trees like
A CYCLONE AT CALCUTTA. 603

straws. Next, leaving two hundred thousand unfortunate people without shelter
in a flooding rain, the scourge appeared to seek out more serious adversaries.
Battering against the heavy massive edifices of the European town, its furious
gusts, burst the walls with the power gf a thousand battering-rams, overthrowing
porticos and colonnades, twisting the iron balconies, and carrying off the roofs.
‘Then, at the moment when the trembling population had given up all hope of
safety, the phenomenon suddenly disappeared, calm was restored, and the poor
town was safe. But at what a price! Two hundred vessels lost or smashed ;
hundreds of palaces overthrown ; thousands of huts destroyed; and, what was far
more terrible than the millions represented by these disasters, twenty thousand
dead bodies lay in the city, and a hundred thousand in the neighbouring plains ;
on all sides villages swept away, and harvests destroyed over the whole extent of
Lower Bengal.

If this cyclone were but an accident, and an isolated occurrence, it might not
be so grave a matter after all; but not a year passes in which tempests less
tremendous, but not less alarming than this one, do not burst over the town.
There is no concealing the fact that Calcutta lies in the track of these phenomena,
and that it is doomed to fall a victim to their attacks, just like so many other
towns whose ruins cover the swamps of the Sunderbund.

During my stay at Calcutta I witnessed one of these cyclones, of lesser
violence. Since the previous evening the barometers had undergone tolerably
sharp oscillations, and at one o’clock in the afternoon the sky, in which a
brilliant sun had shone since the morning, became overcast with clouds with
astonishing rapidity. I was on the Esplanade, and immediately on these first
symptoms became aware of a great movement in the roadstead ; the vessels were
lowering their topgallant masts and yards, and seemed to be getting ready for a
struggle. Suddenly, on looking round me, I saw every one taking to flight, and
running as though pursued by some enemy. Nevertheless, the air was still
calm ; and I could scarcely understand this panic, when at the extreme end of the
Esplanade, on the side of Fort William, I distinguished a sort of cloud of greyish
dust, which advanced sweeping along the ground with rapidity. I took to running
in my turn, and with a certain degree of alarm, for I all at once found myself
absolutely alone in the vast plain, and I had to cross over several hundred yards
before I could reach shelter of houses. I was on the point of gaining one when
I heard cries behind me; and, turning round, at ten paces off I saw a palanquin
set down in the middle of the road; the porters had run away, and abandoned a
poor English lady, who in her fright did not know how to get out of her vehicle.
At the moment that’ I was about to render her assistance the dust overtook us; I
felt. myself enveloped and pressed by an invisible and irresistible force ; then my feet
left the ground, and I fell to the earth. When I half raised myself the dust had
disappeared, but the rain was falling in torrents, and the wind blew with a violence
which prevented me from standing upright. The poor lady happily had suceeded
in getting out of her palanquin, which the whirlwind dashed against the balus-
trade of the Esplanade, and she lay on the ground much frightened. I succeeded
in approaching her, half dragging myself along in a very ridiculous posture ; and
when I had raised her, we were able, by mutual help, to reach the Hotel Gallais,
which was in a neighbouring street. I had a great deal of trouble in getting
them to open to us, for all the doors and windows had been carefully barricaded.
nee INDIA.

For a quarter of an hour the violence of the wind continued on a progressive
scale; at last the walls began to vibrate in such an alarming manner that the
hotel-keeper assembled every one in a room that generally occupies the centre of
all the houses in Calcutta, and the very thick walls of which, cyclone-proof, were
built in such a manner as not to suffer in the event of the fall of the whole
edifice. Most fortunately we had not occasion for making trial of the solidity
of this last refuge: the wind lowered sensibly ; the rolling of the thunder, and
the dazzling brilliancy of the lightning which had accompanied the rain from the
beginning, ceased in their turn; and in a few moments a calm succeeded, and

ie
a ‘

i

 

 

 

y ————— <x
= TE z é = ce

WATER-CARRIERS.

the sky became blue and limpid again as though nothing had happened, The
streets, however, presented a mournful spectacle: tiles and branches of trees,
signboards, fragments of palanquins and garments, bestrewed them from end to
end. Amongst the rubbish might be seen hundreds of dead ‘crows, buzzards,
kites, and a few small birds which had not been able to resist the wind, and had
been dashed against the houses.

This disaster reminds me that I have forgotten until now to acquaint the
reader with the most celebrated of all the curiosities of Calcutta; I mean the
arghilahs, or adjutants.
ADY¥UTANTS. 605

There is, in fact, nothing that impresses a new-comer more than the sight of
these birds, as large as men, gravely walking amongst the crowds which throng
the streets, or ornamenting with their fantastic outlines the summits of all the
buildings. Their bald, mangy ie pierced’ by two little, round, red eyes,
support enormous pointed beaks like trumpets, capable of swallowing a whole
fowl, and furnished with violet-tinted pouches which act as antechambers to the
powerful stomachs. Place one of these heads midway between the shoulders of
a white body, on which two black striped wings close like arms crossed behind
the back; and set this body on two yellow legs of respectable length, and you
have the adjutant, which science has baptized with the vulgar name of bagged
stork.

The people, struck by the gravity of his walk and the thoughtful appearance
of his denuded skull, have given him the name of philosopher or adjutant. These
philosophers are a boon to Calcutta: their searching eyes never permit the
slightest dirt to remain for an instant in the city. In this damp, hot climate,
with the habitual filthiness of the inhabitants, and in so large a town, without
such auxiliaries no attention would be sufficient to keep the streets in a state of
even moderate salubrity. The law, therefore, protects them; and it is forbidden,
on penalty of a heavy fine, to molest them in any way. The arghilahs thus are
simply the commanders of a vast army of licensed scavengers of Calcutta, which
is composed of thousands of vultures, buzzards, kites, and crows; but the whole
crowd trembles before their terrible beaks, and the daintiest morsels are reserved.
for their prodigious stomachs.

Every year, at the season of egg-laying, these birds leave Calcutta for three |
months; but at the end of this period they faithfully return, to occupy each
one the post belonging to him-—a fact that has been proved by means of collars
with which some of them have been provided. One of these collar-bearers has
mounted guard for thirty years at the palace of the Viceroy.

I had fixed upon the month of September for the date of my return to
France: so, in order to profit by the two months I had before me, I did as I
had done at Bombay at the commencement of my journey; I established my
centre of operations at Calcutta, and thence made excursions towards the prin-
cipal points of the neighbouring provinces. My first object was the temple of
Juggernaut, where I arrived at the time of the great festival.

No line of railway yet connects Calcutta with Orissa, and the only means of
transport to be found are native carts and the post service of ddk palanquins.
It may be supposed that I did not hesitate long in making my choice. The
service of travelling palanquins is indeed better arranged in Bengal than in the
other presidencies, where a climate less enervating allows the use of horses or
carriages. At a moderate rate per mile, the ddék authorities here supply you with
a comfortable palanquin and eight porters, who are relieved every ten miles. At
night, a masalchi lights the way with a torch of rags steeped in oil. One may
thus traverse great distances without fatigue, at considerable speed, for the porters
scarcely take more. than two hours and a half from relay to relay. Bungalows
are found on the route, with hansamah and peon, where one stops for meals.

On leaving Calcutta the road goes westwards as far as Midnapore, then turns
to the south towards Balasore, where it runs at a little distance from the shore.
On all this journey one crosses monotonous plains, half drowned, covered with
 

606 INDIA.

fine rice-fields, and scattered with miserable Bengalese villages standing amidst
stagnant pools and charming groups of cocoa palms. Beyond Balasore, one
leaves Bengal for Orissa : the soil becomes thinner, hills appear on the west, and
the sea air is felt more refreshing.

The fourth day after quitting Calcutta I entered Cuttack, the capital of
English Orissa. At this insignificant town I only stopped as long as was
necessary to change my porters, and went on to Pouri, the sacred city of Jugger-
naut, situated sixty-two miles and a half farther south, on the sea-shore.

Pouri is but a collection of houses dirty and ill built, surrounding the famous
temple of Juggernaut. As at Poshkur, at Muttra, and Benares, its floating
population, formed of pilgrims from every point of the Indian peninsula, out-
numbers the inhabitants, The temple itself, which attracts this prodigious

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IDOLS IN THE TEMPLE OF JUGGERNAUT.

gathering of fanatics all the year round, has nothing very remarkable about it;
not, at least, for the European visitor, who may only contemplate from the
outside the summit of towers, whereof the base is hidden by a lofty crenelated
wall. Massive pavilions, however, which surmount the gates of this wall, give
one means of judging the ponderous and original style of its architecture, which
resembles that of the fine Jain buildings under a heavy and uncouth form.
Strange it is that this temple, looked on now by modern Hindoos as the holy
of holies, is the one surviving undisputable memorial which Buddhism has left in
Hindostan. This is the venerable sanctuary which received, in the division of
the relics of Sakya-Mouni, the tooth of Buddha, that relic of relics which the
Buddhists of Ceylon now boast themselves to possess. Not that the building
extant dates from an epoch so distant—at the most it belongs to the eleventh
or twelfth century—but the idol contained in it, before which the fanatic crowd

 
¥UGGERNAUT. bee

come to prostrate themselves, is nothing but a Buddhist symbol—that same

Dharma which tops the gates of Sanchi, whereof I have already explained the
significance, ,

 

CAR OF JUGGERNAUT.

Not only does the shape of the idol prove that the sanctity of this place
dates back to the time of Buddhist domination; the fétes celebrated there are
characteris2d by just those practices which distinguish Buddhism from Brah-
minism. These fétes, which take place in March or April, are marked by the
608 INDIA.

curious fact that all castes are abolished whilst they last, the lowest sudra finding
himself for the time equal with a Brahmin or a kshatrya. Moreover the statue
of Juggernaut, containing relics or bones of the god Krishna, is carried about at
this time in great pomp upon a sumptuous car, exactly as the Buddhists formerly
carried about the relics of their saints at the same period of the year. Abolition
of caste and worship of relics, the two fundamental dogmas of Buddhism, are the
chief features of the Juggernaut feast.

But the Brahmin fanaticism, thus forced to admit principles which it abhors,
has succeeded in stamping on these fétes a character that has nothing Vedic nor
Buddhist, by introducing the hideous butcheries of the procession of the Rattjatra.

These processions take place three times a year. The idol of Juggernaut is
set upon a car measuring twenty-six feet long, and as many wide, mounted on
sixteen wheels. The car is wood, plentifully covered with sculptures, and for
the ceremonies it is adorned with cloth of gold and costly stuffs. The ponderous
mass is set in movement by stout cables, to which thousands of pilgrims harness
themselves, stirred to madness by the sight of their god.

In the course of these processions, hundreds of wretched fanatics used to carry
their excitement such lengths as to throw themselves beneath the car wheels, and
so get crushed, to win the paradise which rascally Brahmins promised as the
reward of this sacrifice.

The English have now forbidden that bloody custom, and the procession is
escorted by mounted policemen charged to watch the vicinity of the car. In
these circumstances the illogical character of the Hindoo is well shown, its strange
mingling of cowardice and rashness. A man throws himself to earth before the
heavy wheel; he has made the sacrifice of his life; he has dared without a
shudder the horrible agony of a slow crushing, for the wheel turns with difficulty :
but an English inspector has caught sight of him; with raised whip he springs
at the poor wretch, who, on sight of the dreaded Hurapean, forgetting his own
vows and his courage, hastily. Jumps up and hides himself trembling in the
crowd, like a schoolboy discovered in committing a breach of rules. How shall
we explain this courage before a dreadful agony, and this fear before a trifling
punishment? The fact is seen, however, on each occasion ; unfortunately too, in
spite of all vigilance, every procession still makes its vierans

From Pouri I went to visit the temple of Kanarac, well known to sailors
under the name of the Black Pagoda, of which the high pyramidal tower is
beheld from the sea, rising alone in the midst of the flat and sandy delta of the
Mahawadi. This temple, built in 1236 by King Narsing Dee, must have been
one of the finest buildings in Orissa; nothing now remains but the porch,
surmounted by a pyramidal roof in stone, of imposing effect.

Returning towards Cuttack, I visited also the astounding ruins of Bhowaneshwur,
a magnificent group of temples dating from the tenth century. Not far from
thence are the grottoes of Oudghiri cae Khandaghiri, most interesting in an
archeological point of view, but of small size and alice execution. At a little
distance from the field of ruins of Bhowaneshwur, upon the banks of the river
Dayat, rises the famous rock of Asvastouma, which contains, besides several
interesting little grottoes, a superb inscription of one of the edicts published by
Asoka in 250 B.C. Indeed, all this part of Orissa is rich in precious monuments
of ancient Indian history.
SUNDERBUNDS. 609

On my return to Calcutta, I started this time towards the southern part of
the Delta, towards that ill-defined region which is no longer sea, and is not yet
continent, called Sanderband, and, in English, Sunderbund. A short line of
railway takes you to Port Canning, a harbour founded some years ago on the
Mutlah, one of the mouths of the Ganges, wider and more accessible than the
Hooghly. Notwithstanding this advantageous situation, the new town does not
seem destined to emulate Calcutta for many a long day. It appeared to me to
be a poor little borough, possessing a few timber-yards, in front of which one or
two ships were balancing in a melancholy manner.

At Port Canning I made an arrangement with the master of a large native
boat, who agreed to take me for a three days’ excursion through the meanderings

 

DIAMOND HARBOUR, AT THE MOUTH OF THE HOOGHLY.

of the Sunderbunds. Schaumburg and a single servant accompanied me ; and we
carried provisions with us for several weeks, providing against the chance of a
breeze carrying us out of the track, or even out to sea.

The first day we ascended a narrow canal of stagnant water, winding between
low, marshy islands, covered with thick jungle, above which a few cocoa-trees,
with their immense plume-like foliage loaded with fruit, rose like rockets into the
air, The banks of the canal were hidden by an inextricable maze of roots and
aquatic plants, rendering them almost unapproachable. Flocks of birds peopled
these fetid shores, and amongst them I distinguished the giant heron, the large
black stork, the arghilah, and the brown ibis, These huge wading birds, perched

like sentries on the abutments of the mangrove-trees, stared at us stupidly, as we

ves be killed with such stoicism that we soon had enough

passed, and let themsel
of the monotonous butchery. The water itself in certain places was covered by
2Q
610 INDIA.

hundreds of little divers and Brahmin ducks; and water-fowl, with purple or
indigo-tinted plumage, darted over the lotus-leaves. I shot a few; but each time,
before we could approach them, the bird suddenly disappeared, drawn beneath the
water by an invisible power. These game-stealers were no other than the crocodiles,
which swarm in these waters, but which, alarmed by the reports of our guns,
prudently hid under the surface.

Towards evening we had a proof of the abundance of these creatures in the
canals of the Sunderbunds. The master of our barge cast anchor for the night
near a wretched group of huts, where the men of our crew landed to cook their
meal; and near the landing-place I remarked a stockade formed of large stakes,
jutting out into the water, and completely surrounding a sort of drinking-trough.
The master explained to me that the natives were obliged to entrench themselves
behind this fortification when they had to fetch water or to wash their clothes, if
they did not desire to be carried off by the crocodiles. He assured me that these
cunning animals nevertheless find a way to baffle these precautions. They
penetrate into the interior of the stockade from the banks, conceal themselves
under the waters, and patiently wait until a woman or a child approaches; when
they spring upon their prey, seize it, and hasten to reach the open stream, dragging
it after them. A year never passes without the villages having to pay a deadly
tribute to the ferocious monsters.

Crocodiles are not the only enemies against which the inhabitants of the
Sunderbunds have to defend their wretched existence. The jungles which
surround them on every side abound in wild beasts of every kind; but tigers
especially are there in prodigious numbers. These animals swim easily from one
island to another, and sometimes they make a concerted attack upon the villagers,
who are then compelled to surround their dwellings with palisades and sustain a
regular siege. The natives, however, wage war to the knife against them. They
generally employ trenches filled with spikes of hardened wood, and, besides these,
use highly ingenious traps of quite an original make. Among these may be
specified the following.

They choose a young tree, strong and flexible, which they bend in the shape
of a bow, fastening the end by means of a cord to a stake fixed in the ground.
This cord bears the bait, which is so arranged that the tiger cannot touch it with-
out getting his head into a noose. At the least movement the animal makes when
once he is caught, the knot tightens, the cord attached to the stake is unwound,
and the tree, let loose, springs sharply up, carrying with it the tiger, who remains
pitiably suspended in the air. To prevent him from getting free, a sort of roller
of hardened wood is so arranged that, at the moment when the tree is unbent, it
slips along the cord, and violently strikes the part of the animal which is caught
by the slip-knot.

Since the English have tried to develop the cultivation of rice in the Sunder-
bunds, they have furnished the natives with strychnine, and several tigers have
perished by the poison. Their numbers, however, have as yet been scarcely
reduced, for during the night we heard a concert of hoarse roars round us on all
sides.

The inhabitants of the Sunderbunds bear the name of Molanghis. They are
in general very black, of short stature, and delicate constitution. Their chief
trades are the extraction of salt from sea-water, and fishing. Amongst the in-
SUNDERBUNDS. éri

pee fishes which people the waters of this country must be mentioned the
mango fish, so highly prized in the Calcutta market, ‘This fish, of a magnificent

golden-yellow colour, scarcely exceeds the size of a barbel ; lts white, boneless
flesh is of exquisite flavour. °

Wu. GRANU

 

NATIVE OF MADRAS.

For two days more we wandered over the network of the mouths of the
Ganges, sometimes crossing at full sail magnificent estuaries as wide as bays, some-
times, on the contrary, gliding along narrow canals, above which the trees inter-
laced their branches, forming shady canopies. We had visible proofs that parts
of the Sunderbunds were even at the present day on the high road to prosperity ;
612 INDIA.

and some islands whéreon Englishmen have established themselves exhibited
magnificent cultivation of rice, fine indigo, and sugar plantations.

A few days after my return to Calcutta I took the Eastern Bengal Railway,
which conveyed me over the whole extent of the Delta, and set me down at
Goalanda, on the right bank of the principal arm of the Ganges. The stream at
this point has scarcely a greater. breadth than at Monghyr, and slowly rolls its
waters between low and monotonous banks. The next day a steamer took me to
Dacca by the Dulasseri, one of the canals of the Delta. ~ The Dulasseri, although
communicating with the Ganges, no longer properly belongs to the plan of this
stream ; it forms the extremity of the great western branch of the Brahmapoutra,

Dacca did not fail to disappoint me. I expected to find remains worthy of
the great part it had taken during long centuries as the capital of Eastern Bengal,
but I saw only a few insignificant ruins. On the other hand, the modern city
presents the appearance of a great commercial centre; its bazaars are populous
and animated, and exhibit a curious mixture of races, the Indo-Chinese type being
met with almost in an equal proportion to the Hindoo type. Dacca, however,
marks the extreme eastern frontier of India. Some miles farther to the east, the
Megna, the great branch of the Brahmapoutra, marks the limit of the Hindoo
world, and the hills that are seen on the horizon have no other population than
the Koukis and the Louchais—all tribes of Indo-Chinese race and customs.

Thus I had this year traversed India in its greatest extent from west to east,
from the Indus to the Brahmapoutra. On the 30th August I returned to
Calcutta, and on the 1st September I went on board the Labourdonnais. After
six years of journeyings, labours, and fatigues, I was at last starting on thé road
for my own land, and bidding adieu to India. I had also to say good-bye to my
good and faithful companion, who was detained by fresh projects in the country.
My old bearer Dévi, the trusty servant who had followed me for two years
through so many good and evil fortunes, was there also, melted in tears, and
embracing my knees. At last the moment of parting arrived; the bell rang; I
saw Schaumburg and the old bearer pushing off in the boat, and waving me their
last adieu; then the screw struck the water, and soon Calcutta disappeared from
our sight. All day we descended the stream; the next morning we passed
Diamond Harbour; then the shores became distant and dim, and the land of
India vanished in the mists of the horizon.

During the six years I had passed in India, from 1863 to 1868, I had more
than accomplished the programme I had arranged for myself on my departure
from Paris. Including the ports I was to touch at during my homeward voyage,
Madras, Pondicherry, and Ceylon, there was scarcely a spot in the vast peninsula
that I had not passed over. I had by turns visited the presidency of Bombay,
the Deccan, Goojerat, the eighteen independent courts of Rajpootana and Central
India, the land of the Bheels and the Gounds, the Punjaub, the Western Hima-
layas, Hindostan, Aotidh, Behar, and Bengal. From Ootakamund to Simla,
from Peshawur to Dacca, I had traversed this immense country in every
direction.

In thus compendiously summing up the material results of my explorations
I am not actuated by the ambition of making an idle display of distance. I am
anxious rather to prove how far the success of my undertaking had surpassed
my greatest hopes. This success is referable in large measure to exceptional
RETROSPECTIVE GLANCE. 613

circumstances, which I feel it my duty to unfold to the reader who has kindly
accompanied me so far,

It has been seen that this journey, which I commenced as a simple tourist

 

 

PORTICO OF A PAGODA AT PONDICHERRY.

depending on his own resources, without any official support, was destined soon
to assume a very different character—one, indeed, more in accordance with the
high position of an accredited representative of a mighty Power. I was to
advance through these countries surrounded by numerous and imposing escorts,
614 INDIA.

followed by a complete warlike equipage, saluted on my entrance into the towns
by the firing of cannon, loaded with every honour, and received by all the
sovereigns with the most flattering eagerness, whereas I had only hoped to have
been able to devote myself quietly to my labours and studies.

 

SCENE IN PONDICHERRY.

 

Although I have resolutely limited the narrative of my journey to the plainest
statement of facts disclosed in all truth and simplicity, even passing over in
silence all adventures of a too romantic description, yet I fear that some of my
readers may have been tempted to believe that the author of this account
RETROSPECTIVE GLANCE. 615

possessed some high mission which he has kept secret, or some more than
ordinary means of fortune. This is not the case; and I wish to declare it. The
reception accorded to me during my stay in India was owing to very simple
causes, which it will be sufficient gor me to point out briefly. :

CINGALESE.

ip OO
1 Ld Hee

hae
i ae " A yg
a!
[pm

 

cs

 

In the first place, if we go back to the year 1863, when I undertook my
journey, it will be remembered that France had then, to-the eyes of strangers,
arrived at the apogee of her glory and power, and that her name might be said,

without boasting, to have filled the universe.
616 INDIA.

There is therefore nothing surprising in the fact that the sovereigns of India,
seeing'in me, certainly not the official representative of the great country then
admired and feared by all, yet a scientific traveller of that nationality, should have
been anxious to testify, by the honours they lavished upon this Frenchman, the
first who ever visited their courts, their esteem and respect for the name of
France. Thus my own humble and obscure individuality only received the marks
of respect intended for my country.

On the part of the English, the reception I obtained was neither less
sympathetic nor less courteous. No shade of suspicion or of jealousy intervened
to hinder my researches; on the contrary, I met everywhere with the heartiest
hospitality, the warmest cordiality, and even I must say with the sincerest support.
In the countries I passed through, most of the representatives of England were
officers of the Royal Army, and amongst them I found the deeply rooted memory
of those days, then not long past, and now so far distant, when English and
French fought side by side, and when the two flags proudly covered the world
with their mighty folds.

 

MOORISH MERCHANT, CEYLON.
VOCABULARY OF INDIAN TERMS USED IN THE COURSE
OF THIS WORK.

 

Abdd, « word of Persian derivation, meaning an
abiding-place. It is used in composition as the
terminal appellation of many Indian cities:
Allahabdd, the abode of God; Ahmedabdd, the
city of Ahmed. It also means fertile.

Amb, mango.

Anna, copper money, representing the eighth part of
a shilling, or of a half-rupee.

Attar-pdn, rose-water and pan soparee, used at all
durbars and ceremonies.

Ayah, nurse, lady’s maid, female servant.

Bagh, a garden.

Bahadour, brave, a title of nobility.

Bajree, a kind of millet.

Bang, a compound of opium and hemp-seed.

Banyan, or Bar-tree, the largest of Indian fig-trees.
This tree has the power of throwing down roots
from its lateral branches, which, if undisturbed,
tend to make the area covered by a single tree
of vast extent.

Baoli, a well, or cistern of cut stone.

Begum, a Mahometan princess.

Biggdree, porter or guide.

Bheestee, water-carrier.

Biri, a kind of cigarette.

Brahmins, Hindoos of the priestly caste.

Bulbul, the Indian nightingale.

Bund, a dyke or dam.

Bungalow, European residence.

Bungalow (Travellers’), establishments kept up by
Government for the accommodation of travellers
on postal routes, usually at intervals of about ten
miles ; there is « charge of one rupee per diem,
and there are regulations regarding the vacation
of apartments in favour of the next comer, after
twenty-four hours of occupation.

Bungheeas, sweepers, the lowest caste.

Burra, great ; a term usually applied to the prin-
cipal English Resident at a place.

 

 

Chaitya, a sacred place, containing objects dedicated
to the divinity—Buddhist.

Charpaee, bedstead.

Chaoree, the adit to a temple, also a fan of yak tails
used in ceremonies.

Chatri, pavilion on four columns.

Cheetah, this animal is trained for deer-hunting. It
has semi-retractile claws, and is the connecting
link between dog and cat.

’ Chiboutra, kiosk, frequently the principal place in a

square.

Chébdar, bearer of stick of office, ceremonial mes-
senger.

Choor, robber.

Chopattee, unleavened bread universally used.

Chopayd, a carriage on four or six wheels.

Choprassee, belted messenger.

Chota, small. :

Choutri, pavilion raised on numerous columns.

Chowkeydar, night-watchman.

Cobra di capella, the spectacled serpent, one of the
most deadly in India, called by the natives the
nag.

Compound, the land surrounding a bungalow.

Coss, a measure of distance, varying from one and
a half to nearly three miles.

Crore, one hundred lacs of rupees.
to ten thousand pounds.

Daghoba, Buddhist altar; also a depository for
relics. The Daghoba of Karli is 4 good speci-
men of this kind of monument.

Dak, the post ; administration of relays.

Dali, a basket of fruit, flowers, and vegetables.

Déva, God; the term Mahadeva, or Great God, is
specially applied to Siva.

Dewdn, principal minister of state.

Dhobee, washerman,

Dhotee, Hindoo clothing for the lower limbs.

Durbar, a court reception, in full dress.

A lac is equal
618

Durwaza, a door.

Durzi, a tailor.

Fakeer, religious mendicant, usually Mahometan.

Ferash, domestic and travelling servant.

Gadi, throne. Raised seat reserved for princes.

Gaum, a village.

Ghari, a carriage.
ghari, locomotive.

Ghee, clarified butter.

Ghir, ghiri, ghur, a mountain or fortress.

Ghdt, a quay, a flight of steps going down to water,
also a steep mountain side.

Gossains, religious beggars.

Ghur, house or residence.

Gurrha, water-vessel of earthenware.

Hamil, domestic servant, bearer.

Hankh, a “drive” for large game.

Houdi, a watching-place for game.

Houndi, a bill of exchange, letter of credit.

Housti, wrestling.

Howdah, a seat used for riding elephants.

Hulkara, a messenger, generally in livery.

Jains, a sect of Hindoos.

Jemadar, native military officer, or chief of ser-
vants.

Jhageer, hereditary estate.

Jheel, a swamp.

Jowar, grain ; this plant often attains eight feet in
height.

Jungle, uncultivated ground, forest.

Kalim, a reed used for making pens.

Kdmdar, a minister, or accredited agent.

Kangra, a rampart.

Khandt, the walls of a tent.

Khansamah, major-domo, purveyor.

Ahureeta, official letter, often of introduction.

Kiladar, commandant of a fortress.

Kittar, a bayonet-shaped dagger.

Fétwal, chief of local police.

Kowree, a small white shell, used as money amongst
the poorest people.

Arishnayas, worshippers of Krishna.

Ashatryas, Hindoos of the warrior caste.

Kutcherry, office.

Lac, equal to ten thousand pounds.

Langour, the largest monkey in the centre and
west of India.

Langouti, loin-cloth.

Lascar, servant in charge of tents.

Lét, monolithic column.

Lingam, mystic emblem of Siva.

Lota, copper or brass vessel used for washing, cook-
ing, and many purposes.

Maha, used in composition, signifying “great.” -

Mahal, a palace.

Mahout, elephant driver.

Mahunt, chief priest.

Maidén, a plain.

Mila, a fair.

Dék-ghari, post-chaise ; Ag-

 

VOCABULARY OF INDIAN TERMS.

Mohr, gold coin, worth about thirty-five shillings,
but rarely in circulation.

Moollah, Mahometan priest.

Moonshee, interpreter, teacher of languages.

Mukkém, Walting-place.

Mundi, turban.

Mundir, temple.

Musjid, mosque.

Musnud, throne.

Nakéras, gigantic drums.

Nautch, a dance performed by girls:

Nautchni, female dancer.

Nauwdb, Mahometan chieftain.

Nim, a forest-tree, common all over India; the
leaves are used medicinally.

Nuddee, a river.

Nullah, a small stream, often dry in summer, and
becoming a torrent in the rains.

Nuzzur, a tribute, or offering.

Péddishah, emperor. G

Palki, palanquin.

Péan, the leaf, which encloses the betel-nut, used at
all durbars and ceremonies.

Pénsopari, the leaf which is from a creeper, and is
aromatic, and the betel nut with some condiments
in combination.

Patel, head of village.

Peepul, sacred fig-tree.

-Peer, Mahometan saint.

Pehlwin, athlete, wrestler.

Peisa, copper money ; four pice make one anna.

Peishwah, head of the Mahratta dynasty.

Pie, the smallest copper coin.

Poor, used in combination with other words as a
terminal, signifying town: Oodeypoor, Jeypoor,
and many hundreds of others.

Pundit, a learned man.

Purdah, 4 curtain. A word generally used with
reference to the wonien’s apartments.

Purwéna, firman, imperative order.

Rais, prince.

Raj, kingdom, territory.

Rajah, king or sovereign.

Rana, the same ; but this title is not equivalent to
that of rajah in all cases.

Ranee, queen.

Rao, usually a title pertaining to royalty.

Rupee, the Government coinage, value about two
shillings ; there are, however, rupees from native
mints also of various values,

fussud, supplies on a march at halting-places.

futt, a covered carriage, drawn by a pair of bullocks,
commonly used by women,

Sahib, sir, gentleman.

Saivas, worshippers of Siva.

Salaam, salutation, ceremonial bow.

Sdmbur, the largest stag of the centre and west of
India

Sani, riding dromedary.
‘

VOCABULARY OF INDIAN TERMS.

Sdniwallah, keeper of riding dromedaries.

Sdpwallah, snake-charmer.

Sarri, women’s garment universally worn in civi-
lised parts of India.

Shigram, an oblong close carriage, to caray four
persons.

Shikaree, native hunter or beater.

Sheeahs, one of the two principal religious divisions
of the Mahometan religion. The Sheeahs reject
Omar, and recognise Houssein and Ali.

Sing, lion—a title frequently added to the names of
Rajpoots and Sikhs.

Sirdar, noble.

Sirkar, the state.

Sirkaree, belonging to the state.

Sirphéj, gold-thread embroidery used for turbans.

Soonees, one of the two principal religious divisions
in the Mahometan religion. They recognise
Omar, in contradistinction to the Sheeahs,

Soubah, governor of a province.

x

 

619

Soudras, Hindoos of the artisan class, agriculturists.
Sowar, horseman, usually a soldier.

Sowari, a procession, chiefly mounted.

Syce, horsekeeper, groom.

Syud, Mahometan, descended from the Prophet.
Tal, talao, lake. ;
Thakour, Rajpoot chief.

Thannadar, chief of a fortified place.
Tirthankar, Jain philosopher.

Tofan, violent storm, cyclone.

Tépe, sacred building, also a piece of ordnance.
Topee, hat, head-dress.

Tulwar, curved sword.

Tumdsha, representation, spectacle.

Vaichyas, merchant class.

Vaishnavas, worshippers of Vishnu.

Vakeel, accredited agent.

Vihara, Buddhist religious establishment.
Zemindar, hereditary occupier of the soil
Zenana, apartments of ladies of rank.

THE END.

PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE, HANSON AND CO.)

EDINBURGH AND LONDON.
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