Chapter 8

LAST DAYS OF TRAVEL.

September 30.—For the last fifteen days we have been living once more the life of otium cum dignitate common to the travelling Englishman in Cashmere. Basking in the sun, taking the daily row upon the river, eating fruit, and buying trash in the city, have been our principal occupations and amusements.

About the 20th of the month an English general officer arrived, and was received with all honours, including a salute of heavy ordnance, which was happily unattended with loss of life or limb. A dance and grand review were also given in his honour; so that the arrival made quite a stir, and came fairly under the head of an event in the valley. At the review the Maharajah was decorated with unusual grandeur, and as he and his guest rode down the line together—the latter in a plain blue frock, and the other in all his cloth of gold and jewelled splendour—never were simplicity and display more strikingly placed in contrast.

The general’s medals and crosses, however, appeared to have a greater interest and importance in the Maharajah’s eyes than their intrinsic value could have commanded for them, and, during the marching past of “The Army,” he kept continually poking his finger at them, and pointing them out to the courtiers who were gathered about his chair. The general, at the same time, was employed in explaining how many thousands the British Army consisted of, and how vastly superior it was to all other armies whatever, not even making an exception (as I thought he might fairly have done) in favour of the “Invincible Forces,” then and there manfully throwing out their feet before him to the martial strains of “Home, sweet Home!” After the last of the army had marched past, the general, with an energy little appreciated by his friends in cloth of gold, jumped up, and, begging permission to manœuvre the troops himself, went off to throw the unfortunate colonel commanding into a state of extreme consternation, and to frighten the few English words of command he was possessed of, fairly out of his head.

In the early mornings my chief amusement had been to watch the colonel in question preparing both himself and his troops for the approaching spectacle, and very sensibly he went through the performance. He was arrayed on these occasions in the full dress of a green velvet dressing-gown, worn in the style affected by the ferocious ruffian in small theatres, and, in place of a bugler, was accompanied by a pipe-bearer. This aide followed him over the battle-field, wherever the exigencies of the service required, and supplied him with whiffs of the fragrant weed to compose his nerves at intervals during the action. Their united efforts, however, although slightly irregular in appearance, were attended with full success, for, with the help of ten rounds of ammunition, the troops, even when handed over to the tender mercies of the “Foreign General” got through their ordeal very creditably; and, as they shot nobody, and did nothing more irregular than losing their shoes upon the field, the event passed off smoothly and pleasantly, and to the satisfaction of all concerned.

Here we met an old Sikh acquaintance of the road, who informed me that he had taken service under the Maharajah. Next day he paid us a visit, by appointment, and expressed himself highly delighted with his entertainment; smoking and drinking, however, not being lawful in society to the Sikhs, we could do but little in the character of hosts, beyond letting him talk away to his heart’s content, and with as little interruption as possible. He told us his entire life and history, in the worst of English, and we affected to understand the whole of the narration, which, perhaps, was as much as any host could have been called upon to do under the circumstances. The old gentleman’s dress was extremely gorgeous, and contrasted rather strongly with our own woollen shooting-jackets and general exterior. He wore a turban of purest white, entwined in endless folds round a light green skull-cap; his waistcoat was of green velvet, embroidered, and richly bordered with gold. His pyjamas—striped silk of the brightest hue—fitted his little legs as tightly as needle and thread could make them, and his lady-like feet were encased in cotton socks and gold embroidered slippers. Over all this he wore a green and gold silk scarf of voluminous proportions, and of that comprehensive character which an Eastern scarf, and in Eastern hands, alone is capable of assuming. Round his wrists were massive gold bracelets, but of other trinkets he had few; and the enormous ear-rings, so usually worn by his race, were not among them. His long grey beard and almost white moustache were, perhaps, the only ornaments his fine old head required. The last time I had seen him, he was arrayed entirely in scarlet and gold, and he had, no doubt, a large reserve of dresses and jewellery; but, in spite of his tinsel and gilding, he appeared a perfect little Eastern gentleman, and the only one I had met as yet in our travels. After expressing a great desire to open a correspondence with us, which, considering the small number of topics we possessed in common, was rather a strange wish, the old gentleman and his retinue took their leave, and we had seen the last of Beer Singh Bahadûr and his glorious apparel.

October 1.—Busily employed to-day in packing away our possessions, and making final arrangements for again taking the road.

Paid a visit to Saifula Baba, the shawl merchant, whose dignity was considerably upset by a cold in his head, and bought a few specimens of his trade, though not sufficient to raise his spirits entirely above the influenza. The approaching winter, and the evacuation of the territory by the principal rupee-spending community, seemed a source of great unhappiness to the sun and silver-loving natives.

Their houses seem but badly adapted to keep out cold, and their efforts at heating them are frequently attended by the burning down of a whole nest of their wooden habitations.

Their chief means of artificial warmth seems to be an earthenware jar covered with basket-work, which each native possesses and carries about with him wherever he goes.

This, which is called a Kangree, is filled with charcoal, and, as the Cashmeerians squat down upon the ground, they tuck it under their long clothes, where, until they again rise, it remains hidden from sight, and forms a hot-air chamber under their garments. [32] Among other artists I discovered a native painter, rather an uncommon trade in these parts, from whom I obtained some original designs, illustrating, with uncommon brilliancy, the very common ceremonies of Hindoo and Mahomedan Shadees, or marriage processions, and other manners and customs of native life.

After getting together everything we required for the road, and clearing out the whole of our possessions, much to the inconvenience of several large standing armies of fleas, we finally took our departure in two boats, manned by twelve boatmen, and started for Baramoula, on the road to Muree and the plains.

October 2.—After making but little progress during the night, we discovered in the morning that our boats were rather too large for the river, in its present weakly and reduced state. Every ten minutes we found ourselves aground upon the sand and mud, and the cooking boat behind us followed our example, while the river ahead showed no prospect whatever of deepening. The Manjees, under the circumstances performed wonders in the nautical manœuvring line. Jumping overboard incessantly, they called upon Peer Dustgeer, their favourite patron saint, to aid them in their difficulties, and shrieked and screamed till the whole place resounded with their cries.

Sometimes the saints were stony-hearted, probably not being in a humour to be shouted at, and then the entire body of silky-skinned darkies would set to work, laughing and shouting, to clear away the bar of sand. Their paddles forming in this operation, very effective substitutes for spades and shovels, with much difficulty we reached the lake, and about nine o’clock arrived at Baramoula.

Here the river ceases to be navigable, and abandons itself for a short time to irregular and wanton habits, before finally sowing its wild mountain oats, and becoming the staid and sedate Jhelum of the Plains. Unlike some rivers, the Jhelum contains more water in the middle of summer than at other times. Its principal resources are the snows, and these mighty masses are so wrapped up in their own frigid magnificence that it requires a good deal of warm persuasion from the sun to melt their icy hearts to tears.

October 3.—Took the road once more, and started for Muree. Our train was increased by a couple of volunteer native travellers, who were glad of our society in order that they might get clear of the Maharajah’s dominions with as little questioning as possible. Our coolies numbered twenty-six, so that altogether our forces now reached to thirty-eight. After a fine march, we halted at Nowshera, where the dashing river afforded us an exciting swim before breakfast. Coming out of the water, however, I had the ill luck to slip upon a treacherous rock, and, falling heavily on my side, and so over into the rapid stream, had some difficulty in fishing myself out again, and was very near taking an unpleasantly short cut to the Plains. In the evening, when the cook came to inspect the larder for dinner, it was discovered, that, with an unusual want of presence of mind, a newly-killed sheep had been left by mistake in the boats for the benefit of the already overpaid boatmen. This was the third animal we had lost, from various causes, during our travels, and the mishap most seriously affected the success of our dinner arrangements for the day.

October 4.—Found great difficulty in getting up this morning after my fall, and still more in walking three miles, which I had to do before finding a pony. The view was beautiful the whole way; but we had been so gorged with scenery of all sorts and kinds, that rugged passes, shady dells, waterfalls, &c., however precious they may become in future recollection, were almost thrown away upon us for the time being. Breakfasted under the pine trees, near an ancient temple, and halted at Uree, where there was a baraduree for travellers. Except, however, to very dirty travellers indeed, it would be of little use. While descending a very steep part of the road, my saddle suddenly slipped over the pony’s round little carcase on to his neck, and, nolens volens, I came to the ground, the pony remaining in a position very nearly perpendicular, with his tail towards the heavens and his head between my legs, in which predicament he luckily remained perfectly quiet, until the bhistie, coming up behind, set us both on our proper extremities once more.

October 5.—Started for Chukothee, and thinking, in an evil moment, to walk off the effects of my late mishap, I essayed the fifteen miles on foot.

Long before reaching half way, however, I began to look about for anything in the shape of a pony, that might appear in sight; but, none being forthcoming, I was obliged to finish as I had begun, and at last reached our destination, a snug little village, buried in fields of yellow rice upon the hill-side. On the way, I fell in with a fine old Mussulman Zemindar, trudging along on his return to Delhi, from paying a visit to Sirinugger.

Being an unusually talkative old gentleman, we fraternized by the way, and he told me that he had been to see the civil commissioner of his district, now acting as commissioner in the valley, to make his salaam, relative to a “jageer,” or Government grant of certain villages to the amount of some three thousand rupees per annum, which he had succeeded in obtaining on account of his loyalty during the recent mutiny.

Of this three thousand rupees, it appeared that only one thousand would come into his own pocket, the remainder being payable as rent, &c. to Government.

His son had also a jageer of twelve thousand rupees, so that both he and his family were loyal and well to do in the world. His ideas of Cashmere were rather amusing. He appeared to think it a miserable spot enough, compared to his own land, and the only advantage he could hit upon, was, in my estimation, quite the reverse, viz: that Sirinugger was very hot in the middle of summer.

The rice he had a supreme contempt for. It was not to be compared with the Indian rice, and the Cashmeeries he pooh-poohed, as being no judges whatever of its qualities, and, in fact; not fit to eat rice at all. He seemed quite unable to understand my walking when I could ride; or, indeed, why I should leave such a charming country as India to be uncomfortable in Cashmere, without even having any jageer business to transact as an excuse.

Our coolies, being an unusually miserable crew, we got breakfast about two P.M. To-day our tent lamp finished its erratic life, according to the Dhobie’s account, by self-destruction! That good for nothing piece of charcoal had, however, doubtless dashed the solid cut-glass globe, which formed the chief glory of the instrument, against a rock, while thinking of his hubble bubble, and his little blackamoors at home.

The lamp had got over all the difficulties of the road from Lahore to Ladak and back, and had been quite a peep-show to half the natives of Thibet, who were never tired of regarding their multiplied countenances in the numerous cut circles of the glass shade, so that we felt quite grieved at its melancholy loss. Our water bottle also to-day finished its existence, and the table came into camp a bundle of sticks; so that everything seemed to betoken the approaching dissolution of the expedition. The farm-yard consists of five ducks, all strangers, and a pet sheep, and the khiltas look haggard and dilapidated in the extreme. The musical cock, alone, of old friends still survives, but he appears in weak health, and his constitution is evidently undermined by the changes of climate it has undergone. We were here worried by a party of strolling mountebanks from the Punjab, who persisted in horrifying us by making two young girls and three boys, all apparently entirely destitute of bones, stand upon their heads, and go through similar performances on the grass. The girl actually pattered a measure with her feet upon the back of her head, and the proprietors seemed utterly unable to account for our apathetic disregard of so extremely talented and interesting a performance.

October 6.—Left for Hutteian, about fifteen miles off. Ponies being scarce, I had to walk part of the way; but the sepoy, pitching by chance upon our friends, the Punjabees, triumphantly carried off a stout little animal of theirs for my use. Before mounting, however, I was mobbed by the tumbling family, en masse, who went on their knees in their solicitations to be exempt from the seizure of their property. Finding me obdurate in retaining the pony at a fair valuation, with “the army” to bear me out, they proceeded to diplomatic measures to gain their end. First, a very small child, choosing a stony place in the path, suddenly stood upon her head, and proceeded to form black knots with her body. Finding that this only caused me to threaten her father with a stick, they produced a blind girl, who threw herself half naked at my feet and cried by order. The poor creature had lost her sight by the small-pox, and I had remarked her the day before patiently toiling over rocks and broken paths with one little child in her arms, and another half leading, half obstructing her, endeavouring to guide her footsteps down the rocks. She, however, got no immediate benefit from the pony of contention; so, giving her some money to console her in her forced misery, I still remained inexorable. After this, the encampment broke up, with all its pots and pans, cows and fowl, &c. and took to the road, leaving me in undisturbed possession of my new conveyance. The weather began to astonish us a little to-day, by a renewed accession of October heat. Still the climate was delightful. Morning and evenings always cool, and sometimes cold, and a bright cheery blue invariably over head, while a refreshing breeze made music through the pine trees, and waved the golden ears of rice.

Encamped under a spreading sycamore, at the junction of two mountain streams. To-day a new order of bridge appeared, consisting merely of a single rope, the passengers being tugged across in a basket. From its appearance it was rather a matter of congratulation that we were not called upon to cross it.

October 7.—Being Sunday, we made a halt, and enjoyed a refreshing bathe in the stream, and a rest from the toils of the road.

October 8.—Left “Hutteian,” and, winding along the valley, arrived, by a steep ascent, at Chukar, a little village boasting a fort and a small nest of Sepoys. It also owned a curiously dirty, and consequently saintly Fukeer, whom we found sitting bolt upright, newly decorated with ashes, and with an extremely florid collection of bulls, demons, &c. painted about the den he occupied. On the road I again picked up the old Mussulman, who seemed delighted to chat, and gave me an account of the part he had played in the mutiny.

He appeared frequently to have warned his Commissioner that an outbreak was about to take place, but without his crediting the story; and when it actually did occur, the latter fled from his station at Lahore, and took shelter with a friendly Risaldar until the storm should blow over. From thence he sent for the old gentleman, my informant, and “Imam Buksh” forthwith mounted his camel and came with five and twenty armed followers to his assistance. While here, a party of rebels came searching for English, and Mr. Buksh narrated how he went forth to meet them, and proclaimed, that they might kill the Englishman if they would, but must first dispose not only of himself, but also of his five and twenty followers. Upon this they abused him, and asked him, “What sort of a Mussulman he called himself?” and denounced him as a “Feringee,” or foreigner.

The rebels, however, finally went off, and the Commissioner and his family, by Imam Buksh’s further assistance, succeeded in escaping all the dangers of the times. For this service it was that the old gentleman had just received his jageer of two villages, now some years after the occurrence of the events.

He appeared to think very little of the Maharajah’s rule, and was of opinion that the people were miserably oppressed, paying, by his account, two thirds of the produce of their lands to the Government. This was in kind, but, where the revenue was taken in coin, a produce of about fourteen pounds of grain was subject to a tax of two rupees. On the subject of the cause of the mutiny in India, he said that greased cartridges certainly had nothing to do with it; for the rest, why, “It was the will of God, and so it happened.” To induce him to argue on the possibility of the mutiny having been successful, I found to be out of the question. “It was the power of God which had prevented the rebels from gaining over us, and, in the name of the Holy Prophet and the twelve Imams, how then could it have been otherwise?” As to the probability, however, of there being another mutiny, he admitted that he thought there would be one, but that, as long as we maintained justice, no other power could hold the country against us. On my asking him if we did not maintain justice in the land, he said no, and adduced the fact that in every case brought before the courts an enormous amount of bribery goes on among the Rishtidars, and other understrappers, whereby the man with most money wins his cause. No Englishman, he thought, could take a bribe, but he seemed to be under the impression that those in authority were aware of the system being carried on by those beneath them. He admitted that he knew of one native who would not take a bribe! and dwelt largely on the subject, as if it were a wonderful fact, which I have no doubt it was.

In the evening we presented Mr. Imam Buksh with some of our sheep, which delighted his heart immensely, and he spent the entire evening in cooking and eating it, together with a perfect mountain of chupatties, which he manufactured with great care and deliberation.

October 9.—Left our camp very early, and had a sharp ascent up the mountains. A considerable descent again, brought us to the village of Mehra, where we pitched our tents, once more within sight of the territories of India.

October 10.—Marched into Dunna, our last halting-place in Cashmere. It is situated nearly at the summit of the frontier range of hills, and commanded a most extensive view of the mountains of Cashmere and Cabul, besides those on the Indian side.

October 11.—Took a last fond glance towards “the valley,” and descended by a very steep and difficult path to the river Jhelum, which forms the boundary between the two territories. Here a couple of queerly-shaped, rudely-constructed boats, with two huge oars apiece, one astern and one at the side, formed the traveller’s flying bridge. Into one of these the whole of our possessions and coolies, &c. were stowed, and we commenced the passage of the stream.

This we managed by, in the first instance, coasting up the bank for several hundred yards, and then striking boldly into the current; and it was amusing to see our well-crammed boat suddenly drawn into the rapid stream and whisked and whirled about like a straw, while a nice calculation on the part of the skipper, and a good deal of rowing and shouting on that of the sailors, enabled us to touch the opposite shore not very far below the point from which we had started. One last lingering look at Cashmerian ground, a step over the side, and we were once more standing upon the territories of Queen Victoria, and in the burning land of India—happily, however, still six days’ journey from the Plains.

October 12.—Marched up the spur of the Muree Hill to Dewul, where we found a room in a mud fort converted into a halting-place for travellers, reached by a series of break-neck ladders, and looking very much like a cell in a prison, with its two chairs and clumsy wooden table. Here we found a little amusement in the arrival of the Chota Sahib, or “small gentleman,”—otherwise the Assistant Civil Commissioner of the district,—to review the fort and its dependencies. On the first tidings of his approach, the Thanadar immediately turned out the entire garrison, consisting of twelve military policemen, called “Burqundaz,” or “Flashers of lightning!” These soon appeared in their full dress of crimson turbans and yellow tights, and, shouldering their “flint-locks,” proceeded to perform a series of intricate evolutions, by way of practice for the rapidly-approaching inspection. When the great little man did arrive, there was, we thought, a good deal of irregularity among the troops, such as laughing in the ranks and treading on toes, &c. However, the only point the inspecting officer dwelt upon was the absence of uniformity in dress, caused by the deficiency of two pairs of yellow tights among the lightning flashers, otherwise he appeared perfectly satisfied, and all went off well. After his review he invited himself to our dinner-party, and honoured our repast with the further addition of a kid stew. He turned out to be one of the ex-Company’s officers, a subaltern of eighteen years’ service, fifteen of which had been spent away from his regiment on the staff. He was with his corps, however, when it mutinied, and escaped without much difficulty. The unfortunate colonel of the regiment, finding that none of his men would shoot him, had done so with his own hand. He gave it as his opinion that the cartridges were the cause of the mutiny; but allowed that his regiment was in a bad state of discipline some time before, and that all the native corps were known to be disaffected years before the event occurred, both by the officers present and those absent upon staff employ. Altogether, after the Chota Sahib had thoroughly discussed both the mutiny and the dinner, we were left under the impression that there was quite sufficient cause for the disaffection of the Bengal army without ever arriving at the vexed question of greased cartridges at all.

October 13.—Marched early into the Hill Station of Muree. Not being yet quite in walking trim, I had pressed a mule into the service, who carried me in good style as far as the entrance to the town. Here, however, he seemed suddenly to remember that we had each a character to support, and, stopping short, he utterly refused to budge another step. Not being willing even to be led, I finally abandoned him to his own devices, and walked on to the Commandant’s bungalow, where I found my companion already hospitably received, and comfortably seated at breakfast, discussing kidneys and beefsteaks, and such like unwonted delicacies of the Muree season.

After getting somewhat over the novelty and discomfort of being again in a house with doors and glass windows, and other inconveniences, we sallied out to inspect the station.

Like its confrères of the Hills—Simla, Kussowlie, &c. Muree was a prettily-situated little settlement, with houses scattered about entirely according to the freaks and fancies of the owners, and with utter disregard of all system whatever. The Mall was a fine one, and its gaily-dressed frequenters, in jhampans and palkees, &c. were of the unmistakeable stamp of Anglo India in the Hills. Two or three of the ladies, however, were bold enough to walk, and looked none the worse for being divorced from their almost inseparable vehicles, and unattended by their motley crowd of red, and green, and variegated bearers.

October 14.—Spent a quiet day among the hospitalities of Muree, and became gradually accustomed to city life. Going to church seemed rather a strange process, and the building itself was but a bad exchange for the grander temples which we had frequented for so many Sundays.

October 15.—Laid our dak by doolie to Lahore, and, with our hospitable entertainer to guide us, started at five P.M. by a short cut, to meet our new conveyances.

Reaching the main road, we once more packed ourselves away in our boxes, and, the sun soon setting his last for us upon the Cashmere mountains, left us to make our way down to the miserable plains as fast as the flaring and spluttering light of a couple of pine torches would allow our bearers to patter along.

From this, until we reach Lahore, we are accompanied by an incessant shuffle shuffle of naked feet through the dusty road; jabbering and shouting of blacks, flickering of torches, bumping of patched and straining doolies against mounds of earth, glimpses of shining naked bodies, streaming with perspiration, as they flit about, and the whole enveloped in dense and suffocating clouds of dust, which penetrate everything and everywhere, and soon become, in fact, a part of one’s living breathing existence; occasionally, outstripping our procession, a vision passes, like the glimmer of a white strip of linen, a stick, and a black and polished body, it rushes by like the wind, and disappears in the gloom of dust and night, and, in a second, her Majesty’s mail has passed us on the road! As we near the plains this vision undergoes a slight change, and takes the form of an apparition of two wild horses tearing away with a red and almost body-less cart; this also goes by like a flash, but gives more notice of its coming, and our torches, for a second, light up the figure of a wild huntsman, with red and streaming turban, who sits behind the steeds and blows a defiant blast at us as he also vanishes into the darkness. About seven miles from Muree, we halted for dinner, and made renewed acquaintance with that interesting object—the Indian roadside chicken.

October 16.—Arrived early at Rawul Pindee, and breakfasted at seven, apparently off guttapercha and extract of sloe leaves. On again immediately, and reached Gugerkhan bungalow at seven P.M. hot, apoplectic, and saturated with dust.

The room smells thoroughly of the plains; an odour, as it were, of punkhas, mosquitoes, and mustiness, not to be found elsewhere, and entirely unexplainable to uninitiated sufferers.

The chicken, whose “fate had been accomplished,” died as we entered the yard, and was on the table in the fashion of a warm spread eagle in fifteen minutes! After this delicacy is duly discussed, the doolies are emptied of dust, the bedding laid down, and jolt, jolt, creak, creak, grunt, grunt, on we go again, until sleep good-naturedly comes to make us oblivious of all things. The kahars, or bearers, however, take a different view of life, and at every relief a crowd of sniggering darkies assemble, on both sides, with applications for bukshish. At first one hears, “Sahib, Sahib!” in a deprecating tone of voice, mindful of sudden wakings of former Sahibs, sticks, and consequent sore backs, then più forte, “Sahib!” crescendo, “Sahib, Sahib!” and then at last, in a burst of harmony, “Sahib pûrana Baira kûtch bukshish mil jawe?” [33] and the miserable doolie traveller, who has been, probably, feigning sleep in sulky savageness for the last ten minutes, makes a sudden dive through the curtains with a stick, an exclamation is heard very like swearing, only in a foreign language, and the troop of applicants vanish like a shot, keeping up, however, a yelping of Sahibs, and Pûrana Bairas, and Bukshishs, until the new bearers get fairly under weigh, and have carried their loads beyond hearing. None but those who have been woken up in this manner from a comfortable state of unconsciousness, to the full realities of doolie travelling in Indian heat and dust, can form an idea of the trial it is to one’s temper; and, from my own feelings, together with the sounds I hear from my companion’s direction, I can testify as to the relief that the use of foreign expletives affords under the affliction.

October 17.—Arrived at Jhelum about eight A.M. to all intents and purposes dust inside and out. Flesh and blood can stand no more for the present, and we resolve to halt here for the day. The weather appears quite as hot as when we started, and the wind comes in, hot and dry, and makes one feel like a herring of the reddest; while an infernal punkha is creaking its monotonous tune, as it flaps to and fro in the next room, making one again realize to the full, “the pleasures of the plains.” We begin, in fact, to discover that the thorns which were not forthcoming on the Cashmere roses are too surely to be found elsewhere.

October 18.—Reached Goojerat at cock-crow; thus completing a distinct circle of travel through Bimber, Sirinugger, Ladak, Kushtwar, Muree, and back to our present halting-place, from whence we had originally branched off.

October 19.—A dusty night’s work brought us at two A.M. to Goojerwala. Here we found that there was no bungalow between us and Lahore, and, consequently, no chance of either a wash or breakfast should we go on; we therefore chose loss of time in preference to loss of breakfast, with the addition of a day under a broiling sun, and halted until the authorities should awake to feed us.

October 20.—Reached Lahore before sunrise, and got our letters and papers from the post once more. Afterwards we laid our dak for Cawnpore, and made all arrangements for a start in the evening.

October 21.—Arrived at Umritsur about three A.M., and remained in our coaches until sunrise, when we set off for a stroll through the city. This we found the cleanest, if not the only clean, town we had seen since landing in India. The streets were well drained and built, and were guarded by a force of yellow-legged, red-turbaned Punjabee policemen, who were provided, like their brother blue-bottles at home, with staves and rattles instead of the more usual insignia of sword and shield. The houses were almost all decorated, outside and in, with grotesque mythological and other paintings, such as Vishnu annihilating Rakshus, or demons of various kinds, or wonderful battle-pieces, wherein pale-faced, unhealthy-looking people, in tailed coats and cocked hats, might be seen performing prodigies of valour, assisted by bearded and invincible Sikh warriors of ferocious exterior. The shops were built with verandahs, and the piazza character of some of the streets, in conjunction with the unusual cleanliness, gave one a very agreeable impression of Umritsur and its municipal corporation, whoever that body may be. The inhabitants are principally Sikhs, fine-looking men generally, with long beards turned up at either side of their faces, and knotted with their hair under the voluminous folds of their turbans.

October 22.—Out at four A.M. to explore the great durbar, or head-quarters of the Sikh religion in the Punjab. Entering through a highly decorated archway in the kotwalee, or police station, we came upon an enormous tank, with steps descending into the water on all sides, and planted around with large and shady trees. In the centre of this rose the temple of the Sikhs, a light-looking, richly-gilt edifice, the lower part of which was constructed of inlaid stones upon white marble. From this to one side of the tank, a broad causeway led, decorated with handsome railings, and lamps of gilt-work upon marble pedestals. Along this, crowds of people were passing to and fro, arrayed in every possible variety of costume and colour. Sikhs, Hindoos, Mussulmen—men, women, and children, crowded together like bees in a hive. Round the edges of the tank were handsome buildings, minarets, &c. with trees and gardens attached to them; and that, towards the causeway, was divided in two by a fine and richly-decorated archway, in the upper part of which a party of patriarchal old Sikhs were squatted on their haunches, discoursing the affairs of the nation. This whole scene opened upon our view at a glance. The sun had as yet scarcely appeared over the horizon, and the reflection of its light shone faintly upon the gold-work and ornaments of the central building, tipping it and the lofty minarets with rosy light, whilst the rest of the buildings remained shrouded in the morning haze. With the incessant bustle of the thronging, brightly-vestured crowd, and the accompaniment of the wild discordant tom-toming of a band of turbaned musicians, it formed a scene which almost persuaded one to put once more confidence in the brightly-coloured descriptions of the “Arabian Nights.” While waiting for sun-rise, we ascended one of the minarets, from which we had a curious bird’s-eye view of the tank and surrounding city at our feet, while the plains lay stretching away before us; the horizon level and unbroken, as if it bounded in the ocean. From this we had also a private view of the manners and customs of the natives. Just below us was an early morning scene in the life of a Sikh gentleman. He was sitting up in his “four-leg,” on the open court of an upper story, which formed his bed-room, while his attendants were offering him his morning cup of coffee, and otherwise attending to his wants. In one corner, another Sikh gentleman, with one arm, was having a brass vessel of water poured over him, and a number of similar vessels stood upon a sort of rack, ready for the master of the house to have his bath.

Scattered about the foot of the bed, which had a grandly decorated canopy, was a deputation of white-robed Sikhs paying their morning visit, or having an audience upon some matter of business. These by degrees got up and went out, each making a profound salaam as he passed the bed. One of them only, the old man called back, and with him, as he sat upon the “four-leg,” he had a long and confidential talk. This evidently was the medical adviser, and, judging by the dumb-show of the interview which ensued, the Sikh, as evidently, was the victim of a cold in his fine old nose, which he had doubtless caught from sleeping in the open air. After this we repaired to the kotwallee again, and, getting a pair of slippers in exchange for our boots, descended to the durbar and mingled with the crowd.

Although we were inadmissible in boots, no objection whatever appeared to be made to the entrance of Brahminee bulls; for we found a number of them walking about the mosaic pavement with as much confidence and impunity as if the place belonged to them.

In the building we found a collection of Sikh padres, or “gooroos,” sitting behind a massive volume richly cased in cloth of gold and silver, while squatted around under a canopy, were the Sikh faithful, offering their presents of cowries, chupatties, balls of sweetmeats, and showers of yellow and white necklaces of flowers. The book was the original law of Gooroo Gurunth Sahib, which they had just finished reading, and, as we entered, they were commencing to cover it up again, which they did, with great pomp and ceremony, in a number of cloths of various patterns, after which they distributed the votive offerings among themselves and the people present, and held a sort of banquet over the sweets and flowers. In the midst of the proceedings, a very fine specimen of the race of Fukeer came in, and presenting an offering of the smallest, laid his head upon the ground before the book, and, without a word, took himself off again. He was girt round the loins with a yellowish-red cloth; his body, from head to foot, was covered with ashes. The hair of his head was matted together in strips, like the tail of an uncared cow, and reached to his waist. A shallow earthen pot was his hat, and over his shoulders hung two large gourds, suspended by a cord, while in his hand he carried a long staff, covered over with stuff of the same kind as that round his waist. Such was the figure which entered among the gaily-dressed multitude in the saintly durbar; and, although to the assembled people there appeared nothing whatever either strange or unusual in the arrival, to us, who were looking on, the contrast between the unclad dirty mendicant, and the pure white vestments of the Sikhs around, rendered it a most striking and remarkable apparition.

On entering, he had removed the earthen pot which formed his hat, and, one of the two gourds which were round his shoulders having fallen to the ground in the act, it was amusing to see him pause for a second, and anxiously examine whether any compound fracture had taken place in the precious article of his very limited dinner service. One extremity of the building we found was occupied for Hindoo worship; so that fraternity and equality, worthy of imitation seems to be the order of the day among the religions of Umritsur. The interior was richly decorated with gilding and mirrors, &c., but was little worthy of remark in comparison with the richness of the exterior effect. Presenting a “bukshish” to the expectant padres who guarded the sacred book, we left them to their devotions, and betook ourselves once more to our bungalow.

October 23.—Travelling all night, we reached Jullunder at six A.M., and, after breakfast, again started for Loodianah, where we dined. We here again crossed the Sutlej, but, the water being low, boat navigation was dispensed with, and a shaky bridge, and about two miles of sandy river-bed, completed the passage.

At Loodianah we were stormed by a host of merchants, with pushmeena and other soft matters, who were rather disappointed at finding we had come from the birth-place of such like manufactures. Some of the local shawls, however, or “Rampore chudders,” were beautifully fine and delicate, and seemed worthy of inspection.

October 24.—Reached Umballa at eight A.M., and started again shortly after. Our horses to-day were most miserable caricatures, and it was with difficulty we managed to progress at all. The last stage was accomplished at a walk; and what with this and the delay caused by a couple of sandy river-beds, we only reached Kurnaul at ten P.M. The miserable condition of the horses was accounted for by the enormously high price of grain and the absence of grass, in consequence of the want of rain. The general topic, in fact, is now the failure of the rains, and consequent apprehensions of a famine throughout the land. “Atar” is here eight seers the rupee, or in other words, flour sells at one shilling and ninepence a stone—an enormous price in these parts.

October 25.—Sunrise found us still half-way to Delhi, and we stopped to breakfast at the little bungalow of Ghureekulla. Here we found a fine old Khansaman, who gave us an account of the incidents of the Mutiny which came under his notice. He had received a flying party of two hundred men, women, and children, who arrived at dead of night, some on horses, some on foot, and all worn and haggard by their march from Delhi, from which they had escaped. These he took care of, and supplied with food until the following day, when they departed, without, by his own account, giving him anything, either as pay or reward. He afterwards assisted others also, and received about one hundred and twenty rupees, one way or another, for his services. At present he receives six rupees a month, with whatever he can pick up from travellers; not a very large amount in the out-of-the-way little jungle station of Ghureekulla.

October 26.—Passed through Delhi by moonlight, and reached the bungalow at one A.M. At gun-fire we emerged from our locomotives, and went to explore the king’s palace. In spite of the late lesson on the subject of sepoys, we found the gates of the fort held entirely by native guards, and a very small body of Europeans located within the walls. After rambling through the place, and discovering that its only beauty lay at present in its exterior, we went to the Jama Musjid, a fine mosque of red granite, inlaid in parts with white marble. The cupolas, of great size, were entirely marble, and the minarets, also of marble, were closely inlaid. The place had been only recently handed over to the Moslems after its late seizure, and was not as yet used for worship. Ascending one of the minarets, we had a fine view of the city of the Great Mogul dynasty, with its minarets and ornamented streets; and in the distance we could discern the positions occupied by our besieging force, when the last of the kings was brought so rudely to the termination of his reign.

October 27.—Reached Koel, or Allyghur, at eight A.M. Started again at five, stopping on the way to inspect the Jama Musjid, and a very fine old tower, probably of Buddhist or Jain origin, which was covered over with ancient inscriptions. Just as the Muezzin was calling to evening prayer, we again resumed our monotonous order of travel, and branched off towards Agra to visit the famous Taj Mahul.

October 28.—Reached Agra at two A.M., and finding the bungalow full, had to go to the hotel. At sunrise we drove out to the Taj, and here, I think, for the first time, we were not disappointed in the difference between reality and description. The entrance to the gardens in which the Taj is situated was beautiful in itself, but one sight of the main building left no room for admiration of anything besides.

It is situated on the banks of the Jumna, with a fine view of the magnificent fort, with its mosque and minarets, and is entirely of pure white marble, inlaid with stones into shapes of flowers and arabesques, &c. At each corner rises a white marble minaret, like a pillar of snow, beautifully decorated and carved, but unsullied by a single line of any other colour whatever. The interior is profusely inlaid with minute stones of considerable value, and is lit by carved marble windows of the most beautiful design imaginable. In the centre, surrounding the tomb of Mûmtaz and her lord, is a marvellous white marble screen, in the form of a polygon, carved like perforated ivory, and also inlaid with minute stones of every shape and colour. [34] The queen, in whose honour the tomb was built, occupies the very centre of the enclosure, Shah Jehan’s tomb being on one side of it, and larger in size, which rather spoils the symmetry of the space.

Exactly underneath the tombs, in the main body of the building, one descends to a marble vault, where there are two others precisely similar in shape, but without any inscription or ornament whatever, and under these latter the mortal remains of the famous Shah Jehan and Mûmtaz repose in peace. Over the queen’s tomb, in the very centre of the interior, a single ostrich egg was suspended by an almost invisible thread, probably to shadow forth something of the meaning of the “Resurgam” affixed to monuments elsewhere. On either side, without the mausoleum, are two buildings facing inwards, one of which is a mosque, built in red granite and white marble; and the whole are profusely ornamented with carvings in marble, which would take an age to examine thoroughly, and which produce an effect quite incapable of being adequately portrayed by either pen or pencil.

In one of these edifices, among the inlaid work and arabesques, and not far from the mortal remains of the departed King and Queen, we found a curious and interesting inscription, which seems to have been hitherto unmentioned by the many travellers who have visited the sacred spot. It was prominently placed and easily decipherable, being in unusually large letters, and in that character which might be called the “Uneiform,” of which so many valuable specimens exist in all parts of the known globe.

It ran thus:—

IN MEMORY OF VALENTINE’S DAY.

The sentence appeared unfinished, and one or two words were probably required to complete the sense, but from similar existing records there could be no difficulty in filling in the missing syllables.

It was curious, however, to reflect what the feeling could have been that stayed the writer’s hand, and prevented him from finishing his graceful tribute to the mighty dead.

Mûmtaz, from whose name the word “Taj” is derived (the letter “z” being incapable of being pronounced by many natives except as a “j”), was the daughter of the famous Noor Jehan’s brother Asoph Khan. Shah Jehan followed his queen in A.D. 1665, and was laid in the building which he had himself originally designed in her honour alone.

With Noor Jehan and Jehangeer the case was reversed. The conqueror of the world ended his career in A.D. 1627, and the partner of all his Cashmerian wanderings, and many adventures, who wore no colour but white after his death, finally rejoined him in a tomb which she had raised to his memory at Lahore.

Having paid due homage to the beauty of the far-famed mausoleum, we went to the Fort, and, after visiting the Ram Bagh, the Ikmam Dowlah, and the various palaces built by Akbar Shah, once more took the road, and were soon again galloping through the dust, morning bringing us to the bungalow of Bewah. From this we again made for Ghoorsahagunge and Cawnpore, and by rail to Allahabad, there completing a circuit of travel extending to between two and three thousand miles:

“In heat and cold We’d roved o’er many a hill and many a dale, Through many a wood and many an open ground, In sunshine and in shade, in wet and fair, Thoughtful or blithe of heart as might befall Our best companions, now the driving winds, And now the trotting brooks and whispering trees, And now the music of our own quick steps With many a short-lived thought that passed between And disappeared.”

And now but one day more remains of our six months’ leave. The 31st of October sees us again fairly in the hands of the authorities. Brothers in arms, who during our absence have been having “all work and no play,” receive us with warm and disinterested welcome. The Q.M.G. is hauled away in triumph by a swarm of fellow black-legs to glad the squaw-like partner of his sooty bosom. The last remnants of the expedition are fairly broken up, and already the days when we went gipsying have passed away “a long time ago.”

ROUTE.

Miles. Miles. Miles. Allahabad Vernagh 11 Peer 16 Cawnpore 120 Islamabad 15 Nowbogh 9 Ghoorsahagunge 72 Sirinugger by water Kukunath 10 Etawah 73 Gunberbull ,, ,, Atchabull 8 Kurga 72 Kungur 11 Islamabad 6 Delhi 51 Gundisursing 12 Sirinugger by water Kurnaul 73 Soonamurg 14 Baramoula ,, ,, Umballa 45 Foot of the Hills 9 Nowshera 8 Kalka 40 Pandras 24 Uree 15 Kussowlie 9 Dras 8 Chukothee 15 Simla 40 Tusgam 14 Hutteian 14 Hureepore 20 Chungun 12 Chukar 9 Kalka 29 Pushkoom 10 Mehra 6 Umballa 40 Waka 13 Dunna 6 Thikanmajura 36 Khurboo 10 Puttun 6 Jullundur 61 Lamieroo 12 Dewul 9 Umritsur 59 Nurila 16 Muree 11 Lahore 35 Suspul 14 Rawul Pindee 37 Gugerwalla 39 Egnemo 10 Gugerkhan 30 Goojerat 30 Ladak 18 Jhelum 37 Bimber 27 Chunga 18 Goojerat 31 Serai Saidabad 12 Hemis 2 Gugerwalla 30 Nowshera 11 Ladak 20 Lahore 39 Chungas 11 Pitok 4 Umritsur 35 Rajaori 12 Egnemo 14 Jullundur 59 Thanna 12 Suspul 10 Loodiana 32 Burrumgulla 11 Nurila 14 Umballa 71 Poshana 6 Lamieroo 16 Kurnaul 45 Peer Punjal 9 Khurboo 12 Ghureekulla 36 Poshana 9 Waka 10 Delhi 36 Aliabad 11 Pushkoom 13 Allyghur 79 Heerpore 13 Thambis 14 Agra 50 Shupayon 6 Sankoo 16 Bewah 82 Ramoon 9 Sooroo 12 Ghoorsahagunge 79 Sirinugger 14 Among the Mountains 11 Cawnpore 72 Wuler by water Ditto 14 Allahabad 120 Islamabad ,, ,, Sucknez 11 Atchabull 6 Bragnion 14

Parts of the country not having been at the time correctly mapped, these distances are in some instances approximations only.

THE RELIGIONS OF CASHMERE AND THIBET.

During all our wanderings, whether in India, Cashmere, or Thibet, the most striking feature throughout, was the outward display of religion and the prominent part which religious forms of worship take in the every-day life of the people. Monuments and temples everywhere bear testimony to the universal belief in a Supreme Being; and Hindoo, Mussulman, and Buddhist alike, by numberless prayers and frequent offerings, confess their desire to propitiate His power and to cultivate His favour.

Every little village has its “Musjid” or “Shiwala,” and everywhere, and at all hours, votaries of the different sects may be seen, in the fashion they have learnt from childhood, openly remembering, at least, their Creator.

The naked Hindoo, with loosened scalp lock and otherwise closely-shaven head, stands in running water, and with his face upturned to the sun apostrophises the Divine Essence, whose qualities and attributes he has alone been taught to recognise, through the numberless incarnations of his degenerate creed. Five times a day the Mussulman kneels in open adoration of his Maker, and, doffing his slippers, repeats, with forehead to the ground, the formula laid down for him by the only Prophet he has learnt to believe in. The Buddhist, too, mutters his “Ûm mani panee” at every turn, and keeps his praying wheel in endless motion, with entire confidence in its mystic virtues, and fullest faith in the efficacy of those forms which he has thus been taught to follow from his cradle.

Each worships after the fashion of his fathers before him, and each, by the dim illumination of his own particular light, fancies himself upon the true path, and is able plainly to perceive his neighbour groping in the outer darkness.

Seeing all this, and turning in imagination to other lands, it is curious to consider that the Church which possesses the only Lamp of Truth, and who by the help of its light pronounces all these zealous worshippers alike, to be but “Infidels and Turks,” and says to all, in language not quite so polite as that of Touchstone, “Truly, shepherds, ye are in a parlous state,” herself makes no such public demonstration of her faith. To an Eastern infidel travelling in the West, she would even appear, to outward eye, a tenfold greater infidel than her neighbours. Except on one day in seven, he would seldom find a place of public worship open to his gaze, while the Name which he himself has learned to reverence to such a degree that every scrap of paper that might chance to bear it, is sacred in his eyes, he might hear a thousand times, and perhaps not once in adoration; and while it commences every action of his own life he would there find it utterly excluded from its accustomed place. Even the form of parting salutation, which in almost all lands—Infidel and Heretical—greets him in the name of God, would, in Protestant England, fall upon his ear with no such signification. While the benighted Hindoo greets his parting neighbour to the present day with “Khûda Hafiz”—God the Preserver—the Englishman’s “Good-bye,” like well-worn coin, has changed so much by use, that now, no stranger could discern in it any trace whatever of the image with which it was originally stamped.

And although the comparison between the apparent creeds of East and West is truly that between a very large proportion of faithful professors of a false religion and, to outward eye, a similarly large proportion of unfaithful followers of the true religion, it is interesting to form some idea of the different systems which have existed for so many ages, and which, though proved alike by reason and revelation to be of human origin and unequal to the wants of human nature, have yet maintained their influence to the present day, and hold among their votaries still such zealous worshippers of an unknown God.

The oldest of all these religions appears to be that of the Hindoos. The Vedas, or Scriptures, date as far back as the Books of Moses, 1100 B.C.; and previously even to their then being committed to writing by the Sage Vyasa, they are believed to have been preserved for ages by tradition. The primary doctrine of the Vedas is the Unity of God. There is, they say, “but one Deity, the Supreme Spirit, the Lord of the Universe, whose work is the universe.” “Let as adore the supremacy of that divine Sun, the Godhead, who illuminates all, who recreates all, from whom all proceed, to whom all must return, whom we invoke to direct our understandings aright in our progress towards His holy seat. What the sun and light are to this world, that are the Supreme Good and Truth to the intellectual and invisible universe; and as our corporeal eyes have a distinct perception of objects enlightened by the sun, thus our souls acquire certain knowledge by meditating on the light of truth which emanates from the Being of beings; that is the light by which alone our minds can be directed to the path of beatitude.”

Every Brahmin must pray at morning and evening twilight in some unfrequented place, near pure water, and must bathe daily; he must also daily perform five sacraments, viz., studying the Vedas, making oblations to the manes of the departed, giving rice to living creatures, and receiving guests with honour. As to the doctrine of a future state, they believe in the transmigration of the soul, but that between the different stages of existence it enjoys, according to merit or demerit, years and years of happiness in some of the heavens, or suffers torments of similar duration in some of the hells. The most wicked, however, after being purged of their crimes by ages of suffering, and by repeated transmigrations, may ascend in the scale of being until they finally enter heaven and attain the highest reward of all good, which is incorporation with the Divine Essence.

Like more enlightened systems of religion, the Hindoo faith has degenerated from the purity originally inculcated. The Monotheism, though still existing, has been almost smothered by a system of innumerable incarnations; by means of which the attributes of an unseen Deity were to be brought to the understandings of the ignorant; and, as might be expected, the hidden symbol has been almost lost in the tangible reality. The later Scriptures, or Pûranas, are believed to have been compiled between the eighth and sixteenth centuries, A.D.; and though still upholding the existence of a Supreme Being, by whom all things are composed, they introduce a variety of incarnations and divinities almost innumerable. Of these, the three principal are Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva, representing respectively the creating, preserving, and destroying principles; and their wives, Sereswutee, Lukshmee, and Dewee. These latter are the active powers which develop the principles represented by the triad. The divinity most commonly portrayed however, though not publicly worshipped, is Gunesh. Almost every dwelling has her effigy rudely painted over the entrance; and she is invoked at the beginning of all undertakings, and is the remover of all difficulties. Her peculiar appearance is accounted for by the fact of her having been killed at an early period of life by Siva, who cut off her head, and, afterwards relenting, replaced it with the first that happened to come to hand, which turned out to be an elephant’s!

Gunesh was produced by the intense wishes of Dewee, and is now appealed to at the commencement of almost every act in Hindoo life.

The following invocation to this “household god” will give some idea of the position she holds in public estimation. It is taken from the “Prem Sagur,” or Ocean of Love, a history of the life of Krishna, a son of Vishnu, who, with Siva and Dewee, or Mahadewee, monopolises almost the entire public respect and adoration:—

“Oh elephant-faced Deity, obviator of difficulties, of exalted fame resplendent, Grant as a boon, pure language, wisdom, and felicity may be much promoted. Thou on whose two celestial feet the world is gazing, worshipping both day and night, O mother of the universe, grant unto me, remembering thee, true skill and utterance.”

The “Ocean of Love” gives a full account of the various incarnations of Krishna, the favourite divinity of the Hindoos, and opens with the scene of his birth. Kans, his uncle, has placed guards, in order that the child may be killed at his first appearance, it having been predicted that Kans himself is to fall by the hands of Krishna. The Cashmerian artist—whose powers of colouring were his chief recommendation—has depicted the moment when Vasadeo and Devakee, the father and mother, viewing Krishna, with long-drawn sighs, both begin to say, “If, by some means, we could send away this child, then it would escape the guilty Kans.” Vasadeo says, “Without destiny none can preserve him; the writing of Fate, that only will be accomplished.”

Destiny being propitious, the guards fall asleep upon their posts, as shown in the accompanying design, and another child is substituted for Krishna. He is afterwards brought up as a herdsman, and spends his childhood among the milkmaids of Braj, upon whom he plays all sorts of tricks. “One day the divine Krishna played upon the flute in the forest, when, hearing the sound of the instrument, all the young women of Braj arose in confusion, and hastened and assembled in one place. The dark-blue Krishna, with body of the hue of clouds, stood in the midst; and such was the beauty of the fair ones, as they sported, that they resembled golden creepers growing from beneath a blue mountain!”

The description of the state of the world, on Krishna’s appearance, is given by the saintly Shukadeo to King Parikshah—“O King, at the time of the divine Krishna appearing, in the minds of all such joy arose, that not even the name of grief remained. With joy the woods and groves began to bear fruits and flowers, their verdure still increasing. The rivers, streams, and lakes were filled with water, and upon them birds of every kind were sporting; and, from city to city, from house to house, from village to village, rejoicings were celebrated. The Brahmins were performing sacrifice; the Regents of the ten divisions of the horizon rejoiced. Clouds were moving over the circuit of Braj. The deities, seated in their cars, rained down flowers; the holders of the magic pill, the celestial musicians, and heavenly bards, continually sounding drums, kettledrums, and pipes, were singing the praises of the divine virtues; and, in one direction, Urvasee, and all the celestial dancers, were dancing. In such a time, then, on Wednesday, the eighth day of the dark half of the month Bhadon, at midnight, while the moon was in the mansion of Rohanee, the divine Krishna was born, of the colour of clouds, moon-faced and lotus-eyed, with a girdle of yellow cloth passing round his loins, wearing a crown, and arrayed in a necklace of five jewels, produced from the elements of nature, and with ornaments set with gems, in a four-armed form, sustaining the shell, the quoit, the mace, and the lotus he presented himself.”

Krishna afterwards espouses a fair lady, of the name of Rûkminee, and the marriage is thus poetically described. Rûkminee has written a letter, filled with love, and sent it by the hand of a Brahmin, to the Root of Joy, Krishna:—“The Brahmin having arrived at Dûarika, perceives that the town is in the midst of the ocean, and on the four sides of it there are great mountains and woods and groves, which add beauty to the scene. In these were various kinds of beasts and birds, and the limpid lakes were filled with pure water, and lotus flowers were blooming, upon which swarms upon swarms of black bees were humming. To the distance of many miles orchards, containing an endless variety of fruit and flowers, extended; along these enclosures betel gardens were flourishing. The gardeners, standing at the wells, were singing with sweet strains; and, working waterwheels and buckets, were irrigating the high and low grounds.”

Beholding this beautiful scene, and being gladdened thereby, the Brahmin, still advancing, beholds that “on four sides of the city are very lofty ramparts, with four gateways, in which folding-doors, inlaid with gold, are fixed, and, inside the city, houses of five and six stories high, of silver and gold, adorned with jewels, so lofty as to converse with the sky, are glittering. Their minarets and pinnacles are gleaming like lightning, and banners and pennons of many colours are fluttering. The warm fragrance of perfumes was issuing from windows, air-holes, and lattices. At every door were placed pillars of the plantain-tree, with fresh shoots, and golden vessels. Garlands and wreathed flowers were festooned from house to house, and joyful music was sounding. From place to place, the recital of the Pûranas and discourse about Krishna was kept up. The eighteen classes were dwelling in case and tranquillity.”

On hearing the Brahmin’s message, the warder says:—“‘Great sir, be pleased to enter the palace; the divine Krishna reposes, in front of you, on a throne.’ Krishna, descending, bows to him, and shows him much respect, and those attentions which a man would show to his friend. Having applied fragrant unguents, and caused him to be bathed and washed, he partakes of food, possessing the six flavours. Afterwards he gave him the betel leaf, made up with areca nut, spices, and chunam; and having perfumed his body with saffron and sandal wood oil, and arranged his dress, and put upon him a necklace of flowers, he conducted him into a palace adorned with jewels, and caused him to repose in a fair curtained bed, studded with gems.” After sleeping profoundly, the Brahmin awakes, and relates his mission. Krishna goes to claim his bride, and orders his charioteer, Darak, to prepare his chariot. Darak quickly yokes four horses. Then the divine Krishna, having ascended, and seated the Brahmin, departs from Dûarika to Kundalpore. On coming forth from the city, behold! “on the right hand herds upon herds of deer are moving, and in front, a lion and lioness, carrying their prey, are advancing, roaring.”

Having seen this auspicious event, the Brahmin, having mentally reflected, said, “Sire, from beholding, at this time, this good omen, it appears to my mind that, just as these are advancing, having accomplished their object, just so you will return, having effected yours.” Arrived at Kundalpore, he finds preparations made for the marriage:

“Swept were the streets, the crossings o’er-canopied, and with perfumes sprinkled and sandal oil; Clusters were formed of flowers of white and of red, and interspersed with cocoa-nuts of gold. The green foliage, fruits, and flowers, were in profusion, and from house to house flowering wreaths. Banners and pennons and flowers, in golden tissues, were suspended, and well-fashioned vessels of gold And in every house reigned joy!”

“As for Rûkminee, with agitated frame, she gazed in every direction, as the moon is dimmed by the morn. Extreme anxiety showed in the heart of the fair one; she gazed, standing in a lofty balcony; her frame was agitated, her heart most sad; she drew deep sighs. While, through distress, tears rain from her eyes, she says, “Why has not Krishna arrived?” When the marriage-day dawns, she sends, by a Brahmin, to Krishna: “Receptacle of favour,—When two hours of the day remain I shall go to perform worship in the temple of Dewee, to the east of the city.” Her companions and attendants, arriving, first filled a square place in the courtyard with pearls, and spread a seat of gold set with pearls, on which they caused Rûkminee to sit, and anointed her with oil by the hands of seven married women whose husbands were alive. Afterwards, having rubbed her with fragrant paste, they adorned her with sixteen ornaments, and put on her twelve trinkets, and having arrayed her in a red boddice they seated her, fully adorned. Then the young Rûkminee, accompanied by all her handmaidens, went, with the sound of music, to perform her devotions. Screened by a curtain of silk, and surrounded by crowd upon crowd of companions, she appeared among the swarthy group who accompanied her as beautiful, as amid dark blue clouds, the moon with its company of stars!”

Having arrived at the temple of Dewee, the royal maiden, having washed her hands and feet and sipped water, proceeded to offer sandal oil, unbroken grains of rice, flowers, incense, lamps, and consecrated food, and with earnest faith performed the worship of Dewee according to the prescribed ritual.

“After which she fed women of the Brahmin caste with delectable food, and having attired them in fair garments, she drew a mark on their foreheads with a mixture of rice, alum, turmeric, and acid, and having caused to adhere some unbroken grains of rice, she received their benediction. Hearing from an attendant that Krishna has arrived, the Princess is filled with ecstatic delight, so that she cannot contain herself; and leaning on the arm of an attendant, in a graceful attitude, remains slightly smiling, in such a manner that no description can express her beauty. The guards become fascinated and remain immoveable. With trembling frame and coy of heart she finally departs with Krishna.”

The domestic life and appearance of Krishna and Rûkminee is still further characteristically described in the imaginative pages of the “Ocean of Love:”—“Once on a time, in a palace of gold, studded with jewels, a gem-adorned bedstead, with curtains, was spread, on which a bedding white as foam, and adorned with flowers, with pillows for the cheek and for the head, continued to exhale perfumes. On all four sides of the bed vessels containing camphor, rose-water, saffron, sandal oil, and other ingredients, were placed; various kinds of marvellous pictures were delineated on the walls on all sides. In recesses, here and there, flowers, fruits, sweetmeats, and confections were placed, and all that could be required for enjoyment was at hand. Clothed in a petticoat and a full loose robe of dazzling splendour, embroidered with pearls, and a sparkling boddice, and a long refulgent wrapper, and wearing a glittering veil, covered with ornaments from head to foot; with red lines drawn across the forehead, having a nose-ring of the largest pearls, ornaments for the head, earrings, ornamental line at the parting of the hair, marks between the eyebrows, ornaments for the ears and forehead, a necklace composed of circular pieces of gold, a string of gold beads and coral, a breast ornament, a necklace of five strings and of seven, a pearl necklace, double and triple bracelets of nine gems, armlets, wristlets, and other kinds of fastenings for the arm; bangles, seals; seal rings, a girdle of bells, rings for the great toe, toe ornaments, anklets, and other ornaments of all kinds studded with jewels; the moon-faced, tulip-complexioned, gazelle-eyed, bird-voiced, elephant-gaited, slim-waisted, divine Rûkminee, and the cloud-coloured, lotus-eyed Krishna, ocean of beauty, splendour of the three worlds, root of joy, wearing a diadem like the crest of a peacock, and a necklace of forest flowers, a silken robe of yellow hue, and a scarf of the same, were reposing, when, all of sudden, the divine Krishna said to Rûkminee, ‘Listen, fair one,’” &c.

Krishna afterwards takes 16,100 wives, and always at early dawn, one would wash his face, another would apply a fragrant paste to his body, another would prepare for him and give him to eat food of six flavours, another would make nice betel, with cloves, cardamums, mace, and nutmegs, for her beloved. “Each produced a daughter fair as Rûkminee; each ten sons, brave sons were they! 161,000 and all alike, such were the sons of Krishna!”

Such is part of the history of the favourite divinity of the benighted Hindoo as related in the flowery pages of the “Ocean of Love,” and the history may be, more or less, read in the every-day scenes of Indian life which pass around one.

The description of Rûkminee, strange as it is, corresponds with many other fair portraits in the Hindee; witness that of “Oonmadinee,” the daughter of “Rutundutt”:—

“Her beauty was like a light in a dark house—her eyes were those of a deer, her curls like female snakes, her eyebrows like a bow, her nose like a parrot’s, her teeth like a string of pearls, her lips like the red gourds, her neck like a pigeon’s, her waist like a leopard’s, her hands and feet like a soft lotus, her face like the moon, with the gait of a goose, and the voice of a cuckoo!”

More apparent even than in the earthly nature of the Hindoo’s conception of the Divine attributes, the falsity and the human origin of his Faith may be seen in the effect it produces wherever it is allowed to obtain undivided sway. Combining dirt, idleness, and religion together, the Hindoo Fukeer, attired in the minutest rag of raiment, at times in none at all, wanders from place to place, and with long and matted hair, blood-shot haggard eyes, and scowling visage, fancies himself upon the path which leads direct to Paradise.

Attenuated to the last degree, he suffers all extremes of heat and cold, sleeps upon a bed of ashes, and sits moodily beneath the burning mid-day sun, lives on charity while scorning usually to ask for alms, and bears the reputation of a saint while reducing himself to the very level of the beasts that perish.

Something of the cheerful feelings which actuate these religious mendicants may be found in the following passage:—“He may be called a wise ‘Jogee,’ or ‘Fukeer,’ who has dried up the reservoir of hope with the fire of austere devotion, and who has subdued his mind, and kept the organs of sense in their proper place; and this is the condition of persons in this world, that their bodies undergo dissolution, their heads shake, and their teeth fall out. When men become old, they walk about with sticks, and it is thus that time passes away. Night succeeds day, and year succeeds month, and old age succeeds childhood, and we know not who we are ourselves, and who others are; one comes and another departs; and at last all living creatures must depart. And, behold! night passes away, and then day dawns; the moon goes down and the sun rises; thus does youth depart, and old age comes on, and thus Time pursues his course: but although man sees all these things, he does not become wise. There are bodies of many kinds, and minds of many kinds, and affections or fascinations of many kinds, and Brahma has created wickedness of many kinds; but a wise man, having escaped from these, and having subdued hope and avarice, and shaved his head, and taken a stick and water-pot in his hands, having subjugated the passion of love and anger, and become a ‘Jogee,’ who wanders and travels about with naked feet to places of pilgrimage, obtains final liberation. And, behold, this world is like a dream.”

The derivation of the word “Fukeer,” and an illustration of the disposition of the mendicant race, is given in a Persian tale, called the “Four Dervishes.” The story was originally narrated to amuse a king of Delhi, who was sick, and was afterwards done into Hindostanee by a Mussulman author, who styles himself, “This wicked sinner, Meer Ammun of Delhi.”

The speaker, a certain prince, who aspires to the title of “generous,” has built a lofty house, with forty high and spacious doors, where, at all times, from morning to evening, he gives rupees and gold mohurs [35] to the poor and necessitous, and whoever asks for anything he satisfies him. “One day a Fukeer came to the front door and begged. I gave him a gold mohur; again he came to a second door, and asked for two gold mohurs. I passed over the matter, and gave him two gold mohurs.

“In this manner he came to every door, and asked for an additional gold mohur each time, and I gave him according to his request. Having come to the fortieth door, and received forty gold mohurs, he came in again by the first door, and begged afresh.

“This appeared to me a very bad action on his part. I said to him, ‘O avaricious man! what sort of mendicant art thou, who knowest not the three letters of “Fukur” (poverty), according to which a Fukeer should act?’ The Fukeer said, ‘Well, O liberal person, do you explain them to me.’ I replied, ‘The three letters are f, k, and r. From f comes “faka” (fasting); from k, “kinaüt” (contentment); and from r comes “reeazut” (abstinence). He is not a Fukeer in whom these qualities are not. Oh, avaricious creature! you have taken from forty doors, from one gold mohur to forty. Calculate, therefore, how many you have received. And, in addition to this, your avarice has brought you again to the first door. Expend what you have received, and return and take whatever you ask for. A Fukeer should take thought for one day; on the second day there will be some fresh bestower of alms.’ Having heard this speech of mine, he became angry and dissatisfied, and threw all he had received from me on the ground, and said, ‘Enough, father; be not so warm; take all your presents back again. Do not again assume the name of “Liberal.” You cannot lift the weights of liberality. When will you arrive at that day’s journey?’

“When I heard this I was alarmed, and with many solicitations asked him to forgive my fault, and to take whatsoever he wished. He would not accept my gifts at all, and went away saying, ‘If you were now to offer me your whole kingdom I would not receive it from you.’”

This studied indifference about a matter of more than a thousand pounds, though perhaps not often exercised upon so large a scale, is just that which these wandering fanatics display towards every offering they receive, and in every action of their useless lives. Whatever may be said against them, however, their profession of poverty and suffering is no mockery, as was that of the well-fed “monks of old,” whose reasonings were something similar on religious points.

The Fukeer soliloquizes: “The condition of our being born is, that our griefs are many and our pleasures few, because this world is the root of misery. What happiness, therefore, has man? If any man should climb to the top of a tree, or sit down on the summit of a hill, or remain concealed in water, yet death does not allow him to escape. At the most, man’s age is a hundred years, half of which passes away in night, half of the other half is expended in childhood and old age; the remainder is spent in altercation, separation from those we love, and affliction, and the soul is restless as a wave of the sea. No one who has come into the world has escaped from affliction. It is vain to fix one’s affections on it, and therefore it is best to cultivate and practise religion.” And so, as a remedy for the evil which he has discovered to exist upon the earth, and to work out a successful escape from it, he sits himself down in dust and ashes, and, mistaking the sign-post, adopts the path which leads him furthest from the point he wishes to arrive at.

As the Hindoo is the most ancient of religions, so the Buddhist is the one which is professed by the largest portion of the human race. It is the religion of Burmah, Ceylon, China, Siam, Thibet, and Russian Tartary, and is computed to claim as many as three hundred and sixty-nine millions among its Votaries. [36] “Gautama,” or “Sakya mounee,” its founder, was born in Bengal about the seventh century before Christ. Yet India at present contains no modern temples of its worship, and no native of India, that I have ever met, knew anything of its founder, or was even acquainted with the term “Buddha,” or “Buddhist.” Its doctrines are the most curious of those that have ever been promulgated, and appear even now to be scarcely understood in all their ramifications. According to original Buddhism, there is no Creator, nor being that is self-existent and eternal. The great object is the attainment, in this life, of complete abstraction from all worldly affairs and passions, and the ultimate result, of entire annihilation. Like the Hindoo, the Buddhist believes in transmigration of souls, and until utter annihilation is reached, he is doomed to shift his earthly tenement, from form to form, according to the deeds done in the flesh. It is, therefore, the great object of all beings, who would be released from the sorrows of successive birth, to seek the destruction of the moral cause of continued existence, that is, the cleaving to existing objects or evil desire. It is only possible to accomplish this end by attending to a prescribed course of discipline, and by fixing the mind upon the perfections of Buddha. Those who after successive births have entirely destroyed all evil desires are called “Rahuts,” and after death the Rahut attains “Nirwana,” or ceases to exist. The actual meaning of the word “Rahut,” is “Tranquillity,” and it appears to be the same word which is used on a small scale, to express the soothing qualities of that far-famed Eastern sweetmeat, the Rahut-lûkma, or “Morsels of tranquillity.”

The Buddhas themselves are beings who appear after intervals of time inconceivably vast. Previous to their reception of the state, they pass through countless phases of being, at, one time appearing in human form, at another as a frog, or fish, &c., in each of which states they acquire a greater degree of merit.

In the birth in which they become Buddha, they are always of woman born, and pass through infancy and youth like ordinary mortals, until at the prescribed age they abandon the world and retire to the wilderness, where they receive the supernatural powers with which the office is endowed. Their highest glory is that they receive the wisdom by which they can direct sentient beings to the path that leads to the desired cessation of existence.

The Buddhism of Thibet appears to be an innovation on the original system of religion. It was introduced into the country about the seventh century of our era; and although Sakya mounee, who is supposed by the Thibetians to have lived one thousand years before Christ, is still believed to be the founder of the present system, the Delai Lama, at Lassa, is regarded as an incarnation of Buddha, and is the supreme infallible head of the whole Thibetian religious community.

The original tenets, too, have been modified, and the modern Scriptures have been adapted to three different capacities of mankind—viz. the lowest, mean (or middle), and the highest. The principles thus declared are as follows:—

“1. Men of vulgar capacity must believe that there is a God, a future life, and that they shall therein reap the fruits of their works in this life.

“2. Those that are in a middle degree of intellectual and moral capacity, besides admitting the former position, must know that every compound thing is perishable, that there is no reality in things, that every imperfection is pain, and that deliverance from pain or bodily existence is final happiness.

“3. Those of the highest capacities, besides the above enumerated articles, must know that, from the body to the supreme soul, nothing is existing by itself, neither can it be said that it will continue always or cease absolutely, but that everything exists by a dependant or casual connexion.” [37]

One cause of the extension of the religion of Buddha appears to be the broad basis upon which admission to the priesthood has ‘been placed. No one can become a Brahmin except by birth, but the privileges of becoming a Lama are open to all who are willing to receive them upon the conditions implied in their acceptance. The principal duties to be attended to, by one about to become a priest, are thus laid down:—“He who, with a firm faith in the religion of Truth, believes in Buddha, shall rise before daylight, and, having cleaned his teeth, shall then sweep all the places appointed to be swept in the vicinity of the ‘Vihara,’ or monastery; after which he shall fetch the water that is required for use, filter it, and place it ready for drinking. When this is done, he shall retire to a solitary place, and for the space of three hours meditate on the obligations of his vow. The bell will then ring, and he must reflect that greater than the gift of 100 elephants, 100 horses, and 100 chariots, is the reward of him who takes one step towards the place where worship is offered. Thus reflecting, he shall approach the ‘Dagoba,’ where relics of holy men are placed, and perform that which is appointed; he shall offer flowers just as if Buddha were present in person, meditate on the nine virtues of Buddha with a fixed and determined mind, and seek forgiveness for his faults, just as if the sacred relics were endowed with life. He shall then meditate on the advantages to be derived from carrying the alms-bowl and putting on the yellow robe.” The injunctions on the priesthood relative to their abstracting their thoughts and desires from all earthly matters whatever, are of the strictest nature. “The door of the eye is to be kept shut. When the outer gates of the city are left open, though the door of every separate house and store be shut, the enemy will enter the city and take possession; in like manner, though all the ordinances be kept, if the eye be permitted to wander, affection for worldly objects will be produced.” A story is told of a priest named Chittagutta, who resided once in a cave, upon the walls of which the history of Buddha was painted “in the finest style of art.”

The cave was visited by some priests, who expressed their admiration of the paintings to Chittagutta, but the devotee replied that he had lived there sixty years and had never seen them, nor would he, except for their information, ever have become aware of their existence. There was near the door of his cave a spreading tree; but he only knew that it was there by the fall of its leaves or flowers; the tree itself he never saw, as he carefully observed the precept not to look upwards, or to a distance!

The priest of Buddha must possess but eight articles: three of these are matters of dress; the others, a girdle for the loins, an alms-bowl, a razor, a needle, and a water-strainer. The bowl receives the food presented in alms; the razor is for shaving the head; the needle keeps his yellow wardrobe in order; and the water-strainer is the most serviceable of all, for “if any priest shall knowingly drink water containing insects, he shall be ejected from the priesthood.”

The Dagobas, or shrines of relics, which abound in such numbers in Thibet, have also been found in India and other countries. Some of them when opened have been found to contain what appears to be remains of a funeral pile, also vessels of stone or metal, and, occasionally, caskets of silver and gold, curiously wrought. “Some of these have been chased with a series of four figures, representing Buddha in the act of preaching; a mendicant is on his right, a lay follower on his left, and behind the latter a female disciple.” This somewhat describes the appearance of the stone-carved figures at the monastery of Hemis. [38] These caskets have been set with rubies and chased with the leaves of the lotus. Besides these have also been found small pearls, gold buttons, rings, beads, pieces of clay and stone bearing impressions of figures, bits of bone, and teeth of animals, pieces of cloth, &c. The images are sometimes recumbent, at other times standing upright, with the hand uplifted in the act of giving instruction. Sometimes they have three heads and six or more arms.

In order to form clear and accurate ideas of the religion of Buddha, it would be necessary to study a vast number of volumes, some of them contradictory and of very doubtful authority, and the result would appear hardly to compensate for the trouble, so altered has modern Buddhism become from ancient, and into so many different systems has it been divided in the many different countries in which it is professed. Among its doctrines there is much that is virtuous and true. It preaches benevolence and goodwill towards men, but enjoins no active efforts to prove the sincerity of such goodwill. It requires its members to “confess their sins with a contrite heart, to ask forgiveness of them, and to repent truly, with a resolution not to commit such again. To rejoice in the moral merit and perfection of human beings, and to wish that they may attain beatitude; further, to pray and exhort others to turn the wheel of religion, that the world may be benefited thereby.” Its general aim seems to be to overcome all emotions and preferences of the mind, and all that would disturb its repose and quiet. It seeks to destroy the human passions and not to regulate them; and with faith in Buddha only as its aid, it succeeds about as well as might have been anticipated.

Between these two religions of Brahma and Buddha, that of the “Jains” sprang up, apparently a heresy from both. It has nearly died out in India, though many ruins of its temples remain. The Jains agree with the Buddhists as to the transmigration of souls, and carry their respect for life to the still greater extent, that besides a strainer to remove all animalculæ from the water they imbibe, they carry a broom to sweep away the insects from their path. They differ from the Brahmins in repudiating their minor incarnations and gods, as the following translation will serve to show:—“A rajah, of the name of Gondshekur, had a minister, Abhûechund, who converted him to the Jain religion. He prohibited the worship of Vishnu, and all gifts of cows, land, and balls of flour and rice, and would not allow any one to carry away bones to the Ganges. One day the minister began to say, ‘O great king, be pleased to listen to the judgments and explanations of religion: Whosoever takes another’s life, that other takes his life in another world. The birth of a man after he has again come into the world does not escape from this sin; he is born again and again, and dies again and again. For this reason it is right for a man, who has been born in the world, to cultivate religion. Behold! Brahma, Vishnu, and Mahadeo, being under the influence of love, anger, and fascination, descend upon the earth in various ways; but a cow is superior to them all, for it is free from anger, enmity, intoxication, rage, avarice, and inordinate affection, and affords protection to the subject; and her sons also behave kindly to, and cherish the animals of the earth, and therefore all the gods and sages regard the cow with respect. For this reason, it is not right to regard the gods—in this world, respect the cow. It is virtuous to protect all animals, from the elephant to the ant, and from beasts and birds to man. In the world there is no act so impious as for men to increase their own flesh by eating the flesh of other creatures. They who do not sympathise in the griefs of animated beings, and who kill and eat other animals, do not live long on the earth, and are born lame, maimed, blind, dwarfs, and humpbacked, &c.; and it is a great sin to drink wine and eat flesh; wherefore to do so is improper. The minister, having thus explained his sentiments to the rajah, converted him to the Jain religion, so that he did whatever the minister said, and no longer paid any respect to Brahmins, Fukeers, Jogies, Dervishes, &c., and carried on his government according to this religion.”

Next among the religions of the East, whose outward observances so forcibly attract attention, comes that of the Moslem—“The marvellous reformation wrought by Mahomet and the Koran in the manners, morals, and religious feelings of so many millions.”

Mahomet, in truth, although “The False Prophet,” would appear to have been a considerable benefactor to his species. The Arabs, at the time of his birth, were sunk in idolatry and the worship of the stars, while their morals were under no control either of law or religion. The Prophet’s aim appears, in the first instance, to have been, to secure a system of orderly government, and at the same time to gain, for his own family, a dignity which should be exalted beyond all fear of competition—the dignity of lordship over the holy city of Mecca. This was then held under no higher tenure than the sufferance and caprice of the Arab tribes. To perpetuate this lordship by assuming an hereditary and inviolable pontificate was Mahomet’s first idea, and at a banquet given to the whole of his kinsmen he revealed his scheme. They, however, rejected his appeal, and he then proclaimed himself as an apostle to all, and setting aside existing forms and traditions proceeded to a higher flight of ambition. For election by blood, he substituted election of God; and assuming a direct revelation from on high, he, by force of an ardent and ambitious will, carried out his project even at Mecca itself, where, to all who visited his shrine, he preached without distinction. From the powerful opposition brought against him, Mahomet was at last obliged to fly; but before doing so, and casting off the high position he held among his own tribe and kinsmen, he assembled his followers together on a mountain near Mecca, and there, without distinction of blood or calling, he enrolled them as equal followers in one community, and entered with them into a solemn and binding agreement. “That night Mahomet fled from Mecca to Medina, and then took its rise a pontificate, an empire, and an era.” This hegira, or “flight,” is believed to have occurred on the 19th June, A.D. 622 [39] but has been variously stated; it is, however, the era now in general use among no less than one hundred and sixty millions of people.

Although himself an undoubted impostor, and the Koran a manifest forgery, Mahomet would appear to deserve a larger share of appreciation, or at least of charitable judgment, than he usually receives.

“He was one richly furnished with natural endowments, showing liberality to the poor, courtesy to every one, fortitude in trial, and, above all, a high reverence for the name of God. He was a preacher of patience, charity, mercy, beneficence, gratitude, honouring of parents and superiors, and a frequent celebrator of Divine praise.” The great doctrine of the Koran is the Unity of God, and in this creed Mahomet himself seems to have been a sincere believer. “Its design was to unite the professors of the three different religions then followed in Arabia—who for the most part were without guides, the greater number being idolaters, and the rest Jews and Christians, mostly of erroneous and heterodox belief—in the knowledge and worship of one eternal and invisible God, and to bring them to obedience of Mahomet as the only prophet and ambassador of the truth.” The “fatiha,” or opening chapter of the Koran, is said to contain the essence of the whole, and forms part of the daily prayers of all zealous Mussulmans. It commences with the formula pronounced at the beginning of their reading on all occasions whenever an animal is slaughtered for food, and upon the undertaking of all important actions whatever:

“In the name of God, the merciful, the compassionate. Praise be to God, the Lord of the Creation, the all-merciful, the all-compassionate! Ruler of the day of reckoning!

“Thee we worship, and Thee we invoke for help. Lead us in the straight path—the path of those upon whom thou hast been gracious, not of those that are the objects of wrath or that are in error.”

The Moslem faithful pray five times in the twenty-four hours: in the morning before sunrise, at noon, before sunset, after sunset, and before the first watch of the night: and that these observances were not originally instituted merely that their prayers might be seen before men, would appear from the injunction which lays down that “what is principally to be regarded in the duty of prayer, is the inward disposition of the heart, which is its entire life and spirit, the most punctual observance being of no avail if performed without devotion, reverence, attention, and hope.”

Prayer was held by Mahomet to be the “pillar of religion” and the “key of paradise,” and in the performance of it, his disciples are enjoined to lay aside their ornaments and costly habits, and all that might savour of either pride or arrogance.

Its observance, however, at five stated times appears to be nowhere mentioned in the Koran, although the custom is now an essential part, and the most noticeable and characteristic feature of Mahomedanism.

Saints and sinners join equally in the form. A crime just committed, or one in immediate contemplation, in no way interferes with the “five-time prayers,” and the neglect of them amounts to an abnegation of the Faith. The summons to prayer was originally only one sentence, “To public prayer.” Mahomet, however, afterwards bethought himself that a more elaborate and striking call would be an improvement, and the present “Azzan,” or call to prayer, was introduced.

While the matter was under discussion, Mahomet being unable to decide upon any suitable form, a certain Abdallah dreamed that he met a man arrayed in green raiment carrying a bell. Abdallah sought to buy it, thinking it would just suit the Prophet for assembling together the Faithful. The stranger, however, replied, “I will show you a better way than that; let a crier call aloud—

“Great is the Lord! great is the Lord! I bear witness that there is no God but the Lord; I bear witness that Mahomet is the Prophet of God! Come unto prayer, come unto happiness— God is great! God is great! There is no God but the Lord!”

Mahomet, learning the particulars of Abdallah’s dream, believed it to have been a vision from on high, and sent his servant forthwith to execute the Divine command. Ascending to the top of a lofty house, this first of established Mûezzins, on the earliest appearance of light, startled all around from their slumbers with the newly-adopted call, adding to it, “Prayer is better than sleep! Prayer is better than sleep!” And ever since, at the customary five hours, have his successors thus summoned the people to their devotions.

Concerning the future state, the Mahomedan believes that all will be examined at the day of Judgment as to their words and actions in this life.

“Their time, as to how they spent it; their wealth, by what means they acquired it, and how they employed it; their bodies, wherein they exercised them; their knowledge and learning, what use they made of them,” &c. “They enter Paradise, however, not by their own good works, but by the mercy of God. At that day each person will make his defence in the best manner he can, endeavouring to find excuses for his own conduct by casting blame on others; so much so, that disputes shall even arise between the Soul and Body. The Soul saying, “Lord, I was created without a hand to lay hold with, a foot to walk with, an eye to see with, or an understanding to apprehend with, until I came and entered the Body: therefore punish it, but deliver me.” The Body, on the other side, will make this apology, “Lord, thou createdst me like a stock of wood, being neither able to hold with my hand, nor to walk with my feet, till this Soul, like a ray of light, entered into me, and my tongue began to speak, my eye to see, and my foot to walk: therefore punish it, but deliver me.” Then shall the following parable be propounded:—“A certain king having a pleasant garden, in which were ripe fruits, set two persons to keep it, one of whom was blind, and the other lame—the former not being able to see the fruit, nor the latter to gather it. The lame man, however, seeing the fruit, persuaded the blind man to take him on his shoulders; and by that means he easily gathered the fruits, which they divided between them. The lord of the garden coming some time after, and inquiring after the fruit, each began to excuse himself; the blind man said he had no eyes to see it with, and the lame man that he had no feet to approach the trees. Then the king, ordering the lame man to be set on the blind, passed sentence on them both, and punished them together.

“In like manner shall be judged the Body and the Soul.”

Such are some few of the religious tenets of those among whom one’s lot is cast while wandering in the East. Sunk for the most part in ignorance, and held as infidels for wanting faith in what they never heard, they nevertheless attract attention chiefly by their Faith, and by their zealous worship of the Being, whom, although in darkest ignorance as to His attributes and laws, their original creed would teach them to believe the one Eternal God.

Some idea of the number represented by these different sects may be derived from the following table:—

{ Buddhists 369,000,000 Asiatic Religions { Hindoos 231,000,000 { Mussulmen 160,000,000

{ Roman Catholics 170,000,000 Christians { Protestants 80,000,000 { Greek Church 76,000,000

Jews 5,000,000 Other Religions 200,000,000 [40]

And when we reflect how great is the proportion of those who sit in darkness, and that “even all who tread the earth are but a handful to the tribes that slumber in its bosom,” it is but natural to consider what our own belief would bid us hold as to the future destiny of so large a portion of the human family.

At the same time, the question, “Are there few that be saved?” not having been answered eighteen centuries ago, would appear to be one to which no definite reply was intended to be rendered, and which might well be left till now unanswered, by those who hold the religion of Faith, Hope, and Charity. When, however, the Church to which we belong boldly affirms, in words which as the public profession of its faith, should be beyond all doubt or misconception by either friend or foe, that none can be saved but those who hold the Catholic Faith, as she would have them hold it, then, at least, we may fairly consider the matter so far as to doubt whether the answer thus forced upon us is one which, even on such high authority, we are bound to accept. Before, at least, concurring in a solution of the question which, thus virtually bringing it within the limits of a simple arithmetical calculation, would summarily dispose of so many millions of the human race, we may remember that some things have been taught as possible which men, and even saints, may deem impossible; and, before attempting to reduce “goodwill toward men” to human and determinable proportions, we may also remember that “good tidings of great joy” were promised to all people, and that they may possibly prove therefore to have in some way benefited even those who have never heard them with their mortal ears.

Meanwhile, in the matter of “Turks and Infidels,” we may perhaps learn something even from an Infidel creed, and, borrowing a definition from the religion of Islam, may be allowed to hold with it, that

“Truly to despair of the goodness of God—this is ‘Infidelity.’”

APPENDIX A.

THE TEMPLES OF CASHMERE.

Extract from “An Essay on the Arian Order of Architecture, as exhibited in the Temples of Kashmír,” by Capt. A. Cunningham. “Journal of the Asiatic Society,” Vol. XVII.

The architectural remains of Kashmír are perhaps the most remarkable of the existing monuments of India, as they exhibit undoubted traces of the influence of Grecian art. The Hindú temple is generally a sort of architectural pasty, a huge collection of ornamental fritters, huddled together with or without keeping; while the “Jain” temple is usually a vast forest of pillars, made to look as unlike one another as possible, by some paltry differences in their petty details.

On the other hand, the Kashmirian fanes are distinguished by the graceful elegance of their outlines, by the massive boldness of their parts, and by the happy propriety of their decorations.

They cannot, indeed, vie with the severe simplicity of the Parthenon, but they possess great beauty—different, indeed, yet quite their own.

The characteristic features of the Kashmirian architecture are its lofty pyramidal roofs, its trefoiled doorways, covered by pyramidal pediments, and the great width of the intercolumniations.

Most of the Kashmirian temples are more or less injured, but more particularly those at Wantipúr, which are mere heaps of ruins. Speaking of these temples, Trebeck says: “It is scarcely possible to imagine that the state of ruin to which they have been reduced has been the work of time, or even of man, as their solidity is fully equal to that of the most massive monuments of Egypt. Earthquakes must have been the cause of their overthrow.” In my opinion, their overthrow is too complete to have been the result of an earthquake, which would have simply prostrated the buildings in large masses. But the whole of the superstructure of these temples is now lying in one confused heap of stones, totally disjointed from one another.

I believe, therefore, that I am fully justified in saying, from my own experience, that such a complete and disruptive overturn could only have been produced by gunpowder.

The destruction of the Kashmirian temples is universally attributed, both by history and by tradition, to the bigoted Sikander. (A.D. 1396.) He was reigning at the period of Timúr’s invasion of India, with whom he exchanged friendly presents, and from whom, I suppose, he may have received a present of the villainous saltpetre.

As it would appear that the Turks had metal cannon at the siege of Constantinople in 1422, I think it no great stretch of probability to suppose that gunpowder itself had been carried into the East, even as far as Kashmír, at least ten or twenty years earlier—that is, about A.D. 1400 to 1420, or certainly during the reign of Sikander, who died in 1416.

Even if this be not admitted, I still adhere to my opinion, that the complete ruin of the Wantipúr temples could only have been effected by gunpowder; and I would, then, ascribe their overthrow to the bigoted “Aurungzíb.”

“Ferishta” attributed to Sikander the demolition of all the Kashmirian temples save one, which was dedicated to Mahadeo, and which only escaped “in consequence of its foundations being below the surface of the neighbouring water.”

In A.D. 1580, “Abul Fazl” mentions that some of the idolatrous temples were in “perfect preservation;” and Ferishta describes many of these temples as having been in existence in his own time, or about A.D. 1600.

As several are still standing, though more or less injured, it is certain that Sikander could not have destroyed them all. He most likely gave orders that they should be overturned; and I have no doubt that many of the principal temples were thrown down during his reign.

But, besides the ruthless hand of the destroyer, another agency, less immediate, but equally certain in its ultimate effects, must have been at work upon the large temples of Kashmír. The silent ravages of the destroyer, who carries away pillars and stone, for the erection of other edifices, has been going on for centuries. Pillars, from which the architraves have been thus removed, have been thrown down by earthquakes, ready to be set up again for the decoration of the first Musjid that might be erected in the neighbourhood. Thus every Mahomedan building in Kashmír is constructed either entirely or in part of the ruins of Hindú temples.

TAKT I SULÍMAN.

The oldest temple in Kashmír, both in appearance and according to tradition, is that upon the hill of “Takt i Sulíman,” or Solomon’s Throne. It stands 1,000 feet above the plain, and commands a view of the greater part of Kashmír.

The situation is a noble one, and must have been amongst the first throughout the whole valley which was selected as the position of a temple. Its erection is ascribed to Jaloka, the son of Asoka, who reigned about 220 B.C.

The plan of the temple is octagonal, each side being fifteen feet in length. It is approached by a flight of eighteen steps, eight feet in width, and inclosed between two sloping walls. Its height cannot now be ascertained, as the present roof is a modern plastered dome, which was probably built since the occupation of the country by the Sikhs. The walls are eight feet thick, which I consider one of the strongest proofs of the great antiquity of the building.

PÁNDRETHÁN.

This name means the old capital, or ancient chief town. The name has, however, been spelt by different travellers in many different ways. “Moorcroft” calls it Pándenthán, “Vigne” Pandrenton, and “Hugel” Pandriton.

The building of this temple is recorded between A.D. 913 and 921; and it is afterwards mentioned between the years 958 and 972, as having escaped destruction when the King Abhimanyú—Nero-like—set fire to his own capital.

As this is the only temple situated in the old capital, there can be very little, if any, doubt that it is the very same building which now exists. For as it is surrounded by water, it was, of course, quite safe amid the fire, which reduced the other buildings to mere masses of quicklime.

Baron Hugel calls the Pándrethán edifice a “Buddhist temple,” and states that there are some well-preserved Buddhist figures in the interior. But he is doubly mistaken, for the temple was dedicated to Vishnú, and the figures in the inside have no connexion with Buddhism.

Trebeck swam into the interior, and could discover no figures of any kind; but as the whole ceiling was formerly hidden by a coating of plaster, his statement was, at that time, perfectly correct.

The object of erecting the temples in the midst of water must have been to place them more immediately under the protection of the Nágas, or human-bodied and snake-tailed gods, who were zealously worshipped for ages through Kashmír.

MÁRTTAND.

Of all the existing remains of Kashmirian grandeur, the most striking in size and situation is the noble ruin of Márttand.

This majestic temple stands at the northern end of the elevated table-land of “Matan,” about three miles to the eastward of Islámabád.

This is undoubtedly the finest position in Kashmír. The temple itself is not now (1848) more than forty feet in height, but its solid walls and bold outlines towering over the fluted pillars of the surrounding colonnade give it a most imposing appearance.

There are no petty confused details; but all are distinct and massive, and most admirably suited to the general character of the building.

Many vain speculations have been hazarded regarding the date of the erection of this temple and the worship to which it was appropriated.

It is usually called the “House of the Pandús” by the Brahmins, and by the people “Mattan.”

The true appellation appears to be preserved in the latter, Matan being only a corruption of the Sanscrit Márttand मार्त्तण्ड, or the sun, to which the temple was dedicated.

The true date of the erection of this temple—the wonder of Kashmír—is a disputed point of chronology; but the period of its foundation can be determined within the limits of one century, or between A.D. 370 and 500.

The mass of building now known by the name of Matan, or Márttand, consists of one lofty central edifice, with a small detached wing on each side of the entrance, the whole standing on a large quadrangle surrounded by a colonnade of fluted pillars, with intervening trefoil-headed recesses. The central building is sixty-three feet in length, by thirty-six in width.

As the main building is at present entirely uncovered, the original form of the roof can only be determined by a reference to other temples, and to the general form and character of the various parts of the Márttand temple itself.

The angle of the roof in the Temple of Pándrethán, and in other instances, is obtained by making the sides of the pyramid which forms it parallel to the sides of the doorway pediment, and in restoring the Temples of Patrun and Márttand I have followed the same rule.

The height of the Pándrethán temple—of the cloistered recesses, porch pediments, and niches of Márttand itself—were all just double their respective widths. This agreement in the relative proportions of my restored roof of Márttand with those deduced from other examples, is a presumptive proof of the correctness of my restoration. The entrance-chamber and the wings I suppose to have been also covered by similar pyramidal roofs. There would thus have been four distinct pyramids, of which that over the inner chamber must have been the loftiest, the height of its pinnacle above the ground being about seventy-five feet.

The interior must have been as imposing as the exterior. On ascending the flight of steps—now covered by ruins—the votary of the sun entered a highly-decorated chamber, with a doorway on each side covered by a pediment, with a trefoil-headed niche containing a bust of the Hindú triad, and on the flanks of the main entrance, as well as on those of the side doorways, were pointed and trefoil niches, each of which held a statue of a Hindú divinity.

The interior decorations of the roof can only be conjecturally determined, as I was unable to discover any ornamented stones that could with certainty be assigned to it. Baron Hugel doubts that Márttand ever had a roof; but, as the walls of the temple are still standing, the numerous heaps of large stones that are scattered about on all sides can only have belonged to the roof.

I can almost fancy that the erection of this sun-temple was suggested by the magnificent sunny prospect which its position commands. It overlooks the finest view in Kashmír, and perhaps in the known world, Beneath it lies the paradise of the East, with its sacred streams and cedarn glens, its brown orchards and green fields, surrounded on all sides by vast snowy mountains, whose lofty peaks seem to smile upon the beautiful valley below. The vast extent of the scene makes it sublime; for this magnificent view of Kashmír is no petty peep into a half-mile glen, but the full display of a valley sixty miles in breadth and upwards of a hundred miles in length, the whole of which lies beneath “the ken of the wonderful Márttand.”

The principal buildings that still exist in Kashmír are entirely composed of a blue limestone, which is capable of taking the highest polish—a property to which I mainly attribute the beautiful state of preservation in which some of them at present exist.

Even at first sight one is immediately struck by the strong resemblance which the Kashmirian colonnades bear to the classic peristyles of Greece. Even the temples themselves, with their porches and pediments, remind one more of Greece than of India; and it is difficult to believe that a style of architecture which differs so much from all Indian examples, and which has so much in common with those of Greece, could have been indebted to chance alone for this striking resemblance.

One great similarity between the Kashmirian architecture and that of the various Greek orders is its stereotyped style, which, during the long flourishing period of several centuries, remained unchanged. In this respect it is so widely different from the ever-varying forms and plastic vagaries of the Hindú architecture that it is impossible to conceive their evolution from a common origin.

I feel convinced myself that several of the Kashmirian forms, and many of the details, were borrowed from the temples of the Kabúlian Greeks, while the arrangements of the interior and the relative proportions of the different parts were of Hindú origin. Such, in fact, must necessarily have been the case with imitations by Indian workmen, which would naturally have been engrafted upon the indigenous architecture. The general arrangements would still remain Indian, while many of the details, and even some of the larger forms, might be of foreign origin.

As a whole, I think that the Kashmirian architecture, with its noble fluted pillars, its vast colonnades, its lofty pediments, and its elegant trefoiled arches, is fully entitled to be classed as a distinct style. I have therefore ventured to call it the Arian order—a name to which it has a double right; first, because it was the style of the Aryas, or Arians, of Kashmír; and, secondly, because its intercolumniations are always of four diameters—an interval which the Greeks called Araiostyle.

EXTRACT FROM VIGNE’S “TRAVELS IN KASHMÍR.”

The Hindú temple of Márttand is commonly called the House of the Pandús. Of the Pandús it is only necessary to say that they are the Cyclopes of the East. Every old building, of whose origin the poorer class of Hindús in general have no information, is believed to have been the work of the Pandús. As an isolated ruin, this deserves, on account of its solitary and massive grandeur, to be ranked not only as the first ruin of the kind in Kashmír, but as one of the noblest among the architectural relics of antiquity that are to be seen in any country. Its noble and exposed situation at the foot of the hills reminded me of that of the Escurial. It has no forest of cork-trees and evergreen-oaks before it, nor is it to be compared, in point of size, with that stupendous building; but it is visible from as great a distance. And the Spanish sierra cannot for a moment be placed in competition with the verdant magnificence of the mountain-scenery of Kashmír.

Few of the Kashmirian temples, if any, I should say, were Buddhist. Those in or upon the edge of the water were rather, I should suppose, referable to the worship of the Nágas, or snake-gods. The figures in all the temples are almost always in an erect position, and I have never been able to discover any inscription in those now remaining.

I had been struck with the great general resemblance which the temple bore to the recorded disposition of the Ark and its surrounding curtains, in imitation of which the Temple at Jerusalem was built; and it became for a moment a question whether the Kashmirian temples had not been built by Jewish architects, who had recommended them to be constructed on the same plan for the sake of convenience merely. It is, however, a curious fact, that in Abyssinia, the ancient Ethiopia, which was also called “Kush,” the ancient Christian churches are not unlike those of Kashmír, and that they were originally built in imitation of the temple, by the Israelites who followed the Queen of Sheba, whose son took possession of the throne of Kush, where his descendants are at this moment Kings of Abyssinia.

Without being able to boast, either in extent or magnificence, of an approach to equality with the temple of the sun at Palmyra, or the ruins of the palace at Persepolis, Márttand is not without pretensions to a locality of scarcely inferior interest, and deserves to be ranked with them as the leading specimen of a gigantic style of architecture that has decayed with the religion it was intended to cherish, and the prosperity of a country it could not but adorn.

In situation it is far superior to either. Palmyra is surrounded by an ocean of sand, and Persepolis overlooks a marsh; but the temple of the sun in Márttand is built upon a natural platform at the foot of some of the noblest mountains, and beneath its ken lies what is undoubtedly the finest and the most prononcé valley in the known world.

We are not looking upon the monuments of the dead. We step not aside to inspect a tomb, or pause to be saddened by an elegy. The noble pile in the foreground is rather an emblem of age than of mortality; and the interest with which we perambulate its ruins is not the less pleasurable because we do not know much that is certain of its antiquity, its founders, or its original use.

APPENDIX B.

THE MYSTIC SENTENCE OF THIBET.

Explication et origine de la formule bouddhique:—“Om mani padmè hoûm” Par M. Klaproth. “Nouveau Journal Asiatique.”

Les Tubétains et les Mongols ont perpétuellement cette prière dans la bouche. Les mots de cette inscription sont Sanscrits, et donnent un sens complet dans cette langue. En voici la transcription en devanagri:—

ओं मणि पद्मे हुं

“Om” est, chez les Hindous, le nom mystique de la divinité, par lequel toutes les prières commencent. Cette particule mystique équivaut à l’interjection, oh! prononcée avec emphase et avec une entière conviction religieuse. Mani signifie le joyau; Padma le lotus. Enfin Hoûm est une particule qui équivaut à notre “Amen.” Le sens de la phrase est très clair; “Om mani padmè hoûm” signifie “Oh! le joyau dans le lotus, Amen.” Malgré ce sens indubitable, les Bouddhistes du Tubet se sont évertués à chercher un sens mystique à chacune des six syllabes qui composent cette phrase. Ils ont rempli des livres entiers de ces explications imaginaires.

Cette formule est particulière aux Bouddhistes du Tubet.

Selon l’histoire de ce pays la formule Om mani padmè hoûm, y a été apportée de l’Inde vers la moitié du 7e siècle de notre ère.

La legende suivante traduite du Mongol contient des détails sur la conversion du Tubet par le dieu Padmá pani, [41] et sur l’origine des six syllabes sacrées, Om mani padmè hoûm. Ce dieu est appelé en Sanscrit “Avalokites’ vara” ou “le maître qui contemple avec amour;” ce que les Tubétains ont rendu par “le tout-voyant aux mille mains et aux mille yeux:” Les Chinois on traduit le nom par “celui qui contemple les sous du inonde.”

“Autrefois, quand le ‘glorieux-accompli’ (Sakya mouni ou Buddh) séjournait dans la forêt ‘d’Odma,’ il advint un jour, qu’étant entouré de ses nombreux disciples un rayon de lumière de cinq couleurs sortit tout-à-coup entre ses deux sourcils, forma un arc-en-ciel, et se dirigea du côté de l’Empire septentrional de neige (Thibet). Les regards du Bouddha suivaient ce rayon, et sa figure montra un sourire de joie inexprimable. Un de ses disciples lui demanda de lui en expliquer la raison, et sur sa prière le glorieux-accompli lui dit:

“‘Fils d’illustre origine! dans le pays qu’aucun Bouddha des trois âges n’a pu convertir, et qui est rempli d’une foule d’êtres malfaisans, la loi se lèvera comme le soleil et s’y répandra dans les temps futurs.

“‘L’apôtre de cet Empire de neige âpre et sauvage, sera le Khoutoukhtou’ (Padmá páni).

“Après que ‘Sakya mouni’ eut prononcé ces paroles, un rayon de lumière, éclatant comme un lotus blanc, sortit de son coeur et illumina toutes les régions du monde et se plongea dans le coeur du Bouddha infiniment resplendissant. Alors un autre éclat de lumière sortit du Bouddha resplendissant et se plongea dans la mer des fleurs de Padmá (lotus), et y transmit cette pensée du Bouddha, qu’il s’en élèverait et qu’il en naitrait un Khoubilkhan [42] divin, destiné à la conversion de l’Empire de neige.

“Le Roi Dehdou qui était parvenu à participer à la béatitude de l’empire de Soukhawatee, voulant un jour offrir au Bouddha un sacrifice des fleurs, dépêcha quelques-uns des siens aux bords de la mer des Padmá (Lotus), pour y cueillir de ces fleurs. Ses envoyés aperçurent dans la mer une très grande tige de Lotus au milieu de laquelle il y avait un bouton colossal entouré d’une foule de grandes feuilles, et jetant des rayons de lumière de différentes couleurs. Les envoyés en firent leur rapport au roi, qui, rempli d’étonnement, se rendit avec sa cour sur un grand radeau à la place de la mer où se trouvait cette tige merveilleuse.

“Y’étant arrivé, il présenta ses offrandes et prononça la bénédiction; le bouton s’ouvrit alors des quatre cotés, et au milieu apparut l’apôtre de l’empire de neige, né comme ‘Khoubilkhan.’ Il y était assis, les jambes croisées, avait mi visage et quatre mains; les deux mains antérieures étaient jointes devant le cœur, la troisième de droite tenait un rosaire de cristal, et la quatrième à gauche une fleur de Lotus blanche, qui penchait vers l’oreille.

“Sur sa figure, dont l’éclat se répandait vers les dix régions du monde, se montrait un sourire qui pénétra dans tous les cœurs.

“Le roi et sa suite portèrent le ‘Khoubilkhan’ au palais, en poussant des cris de joie et entonnant des hymnes. Le roi se rendit devant le Bouddha éternel et lui demanda la permission d’adopter pour fils, le ‘Khoubilkhan’ né dans la mer de lotus. Mais sa demande ne fut pas agréé et il apprit, la véritable origine de ce ‘Khoubilkhan.’ Le Bouddha infiniment resplendissant posa alors sa main sur la tête de celui-ci et dit ‘Fils d’illustre origine! Les êtres qui habitent l’âpre empire de la neige, qu’aucun Bouddha des temps passés n’a pu convertir, qu’aucun du temps futurs ne convertira, et qu’aucun du temps présent n’a converti, le seront par la force et la bénédiction de ton vœu. C’est excellant; c’est excellant! Khoutoukhtou! [43]

“‘Aussitôt que les habitans de l’âpre empire de neige te verront et qu’ils entendront le son des six syllabes (Om mani padmè hoûm) ils seront délivrés des trois naissances de mauvaise nature, et trouveront la béatitude par la renaissance comme êtres d’une nature supérieure. Les esprits malfaisans de l’âpre empire de neige, ainsi que tous les êtres donnant des maladies ou la mort, aussitôt, Khoutoukhtou, qu’ils te verront et qu’ils entendront le son des six syllabes, ils quitteront la fureur et la méchanceté qui les anime, et deviendront compatissans.

“‘Les tigres, les panthères, les loups, les ours et autres animaux féroces, aussitôt, O Khoutoukhtou! qu’ils te verront et entendront le son des six syllabes ils adouciront leurs hurlemens, et leur fureur sanguinaire se changera en douceur bienveillante. Khoutoukhtou! ta figure et le son des six syllabes rassaiseront les affamés et calmeront la soif des altérés; il tombera comme une pluie d’eau bénite, et elle remplira tous leurs desirs. Khoutoukhtou! tu es l’être gracieux destiné à annoncer la volonté du Bouddha à cet empire de neige.

“‘Selon ton example, un grand nombre de Bouddhas s’y montreront, dans les temps futurs, et y répandront la foi.

“‘Les six syllabes sont le sommaire de toute doctrine et l’âpre empire de neige, sera rempli de cette doctrine par la force de ces six syllabes—

Om ma ni pad me houm.’

“Après cette consécration, le Khoutoukhtou s’agenouilla devant le Bouddha, joignit les mains et prononça le vœu suivant: ‘Puissé-je être en état de pouvoir faire parvenir à la béatitude les six espèces d’êtres vivans dans les trois royaumes! Puissé-je, avant tout, conduire sur le chemin du bonheur, les êtres vivans de l’empire de neige (Thibet).

“‘Loin de moi le désir de retourner dans mon Empire de joie, avant d’avoir achevé l’œuvre si difficile de la conversion de ces êtres. Si une telle pensée, produite par le dégoût et la mauvaise humeur, s’empare de moi, que ma tête se fende en dix parties, et mon corps, comme cette fleur de lotus, en mille.’

“Après ces mots, il se rendit dans le royaume de l’enfer, prononça les six syllabes et détruisit les peines des enfers frois et chauds. De là il s’éleva au royaume des animaux, prononça les six syllabes et détruisit la peine que leur produit la chasse. Puis il se rendit dans l’empire des hommes, prononça les six syllabes et détruisit la peine de la naissance, de l’âge, des maladies et de la mort. Il s’éleva après à l’empire des génies du ciel, prononça les six syllabes et détruisit l’envie qui les tourmente pour se disputer et se combattre. Enfin, il aborda le grand Royaume de neige (le Tubet).

“Ici, il aperçut la mer d’ ‘Otang’ comme un enfer terrible, et il vit que derechef, plusieurs millions d’êtres y’étaient, bouillis, brûlés, et martyrisés.

“Le Khoutouktou se rendit au bord de la mer et dit: ‘Oh! que tant de milliers d’êtres qui se trouvent dans cette mer, où ils souffrent des tourmens inexprimables par la chaleur, le froid, la faim, et la soif, puissent rejeter loin d’eux leur enveloppe funeste et renaître dans mon paradis commes êtres supérieures. Om mani padme houm!’

“A peine le ‘Khoutoukhtou’ avait-il prononcé ces mots que les tourmens des damnés cessèrent; leur esprit fut tranquillisé, et ils se virent transportés sur le chemin du Bouddha. Le Khoutoukhtou ayant ainsi rendu propres à la délivrance les six espèces des êtres vivans dans les trois royaumes du monde, se trouva fatigué, se reposa et tomba dans un état de contemplation intérieure!

“Après quelques temps il vit qu’à peine la centième partie des habitans de l’empire de neige avaient été conduits sur le chemin de la délivrance. Son âme en fut si douloureusement affectée qu’il eut le désir de retourner dans son paradis. A peine l’avait-il conçu, qu’ensuite de ce vœu, sa tête se fendit en dix et son corps en mille pièces.

“Le Bouddha infiniment resplendissant lui apparût dans le même moment, guérit la tête et le corps fendus du Khoutoukhtou, le prit par la main et lui dit: “Fils d’illustre origine! Vois les suites inévitables de ton vœu; mais parce que tu l’avais fait pour l’illustration de tous les Bouddhas, tu as été guéri sur-le-champ. Ne sois donc plus triste, car quoique ta tête se soit fendue en dix pièces, chacune aura, par ma bénédiction, une face particulière, et au-dessus d’elles sera placé mon propre visage rayonnant. Cet onzième visage de l’infiniment resplendissant, placé au-dessus de tes dix autres, te rendra l’objet de l’adoration.

“‘Quoique ton corps se soit fendu en mille morceaux, ils deviendront, par ma bénédiction, mille mains qui représenteront les mille Bouddhas d’un âge complet du monde (en sanscrit Kalpa), [44] et qui te rendront l’objet le plus digne d’adoration.’”

Cette légende nous explique, non seulement l’extrême importance que les Bouddhistes du Tubet attachent à la formule “Om mani padmè hoûm,” mais elle nous démontre aussi que son véritable sens est celui que j’ai donné plus haut: Oh! le joyau dans le lotus; Amen! Il est évident qu’elle se rapporte à “Avalokites’ vara” ou “Padma pani” lui-même, qui naquit dans une fleur de lotus. [45]

ÛM MANI PANEE.

As will be seen by the foregoing extract from M. Klaproth’s explanation, the mystic sentence, instead of being as I have represented it, is in reality, “Om mani padme houm,” or, in a form of spelling more English, if not more intelligible, “Om muni pudmay hoom,” and the meaning, supposing its derivation from the Sanscrit to be beyond doubt, would, as therein translated, be, “Oh the jewel in the Lotus, Amen!” Almost every traveller who has mentioned the inscription in question appears to have followed M. Klaproth’s pronunciation as above; but this, although the one actually given by the value of the Thibetian letters, is certainly not that in use by the people among whom it is chiefly, if not alone, to be found. This I can vouch for, as the words were so incessantly in the mouths of all to whom I applied for information, that I had ample opportunity of hearing and remembering their sound; and having written them on the spot in the Persian character, the pronunciation would not be open to the misapprehension or uncertainty to which, after the sounds themselves had been forgotten, the English form of spelling might have rendered them liable. [46]

A form, however, different from both these, is given by one who, with the exception perhaps of M. Hue, had better opportunities than most others for ascertaining the meaning of the words and hearing their actual pronunciation: this was Captain Turner, who was nominated by Warren Hastings, in the year 1783, to undertake an embassy to the Court of Thibet, at Lassa.

He, however, makes no mention of the Sanscrit translation above given, and confesses his inability to obtain, even at the head-quarters of Thibetian Buddhism, a satisfactory explanation of the origin or import of the sentence. The following account, taken from Captain Turner’s Report on his Mission, may be of interest, as it explains the circumstances under which an event so unusual as an embassy to the Court of Thibet was agreed to by the Grand Lama.

In 1772, a frontier warfare having broken out between the “Booteas,” dependants of Thibet, and the English Government, in consequence of the aggression of the former, Teshoo Lama, at the time regent of Thibet and guardian of the Delai Lama, his superior in religious rank, united in his own person the political authority and the spiritual hierarchy of the country, subservient only to the Emperor of China. The Lama, interested for the safety of Bootan, sent a deputation to Calcutta, with a letter addressed to the governor, of which the following is a translation:—“The affairs of this quarter in every respect flourish. I am, night and day, employed in prayers for the increase of your happiness and prosperity. Having been informed, by travellers from your country, of your exalted fame and reputation, my heart, like the blossoms of spring, abounds with satisfaction, gladness, and joy.

“Praise be to God that the star of your fortune is in its ascension! Praise be to Him that happiness and ease are the surrounding attendants of myself and family! Neither to molest, nor persecute, is my aim. It is even the characteristic of our sect to deprive ourselves of the necessary refreshment of sleep, should an injury be done to a single individual; but in justice and humanity, I am informed, you far surpass us.

“May you ever adorn the seat of justice and power, that mankind may, in the shadow of your bosom, enjoy the blessings of peace and affluence.”

The Lama then enters into the subject of the disturbances between his dependants and the British Government, and concludes:—“As to my part, I am but a Fakeer; and it is the custom of my sect, with the rosary in our hands, to pray for the welfare of all mankind, and especially for the peace and happiness of the inhabitants of this country; and I do now, with my head uncovered, intreat that you will cease from all hostilities in future. In this country the worship of the Almighty is the profession of all. We poor creatures are in nothing equal to you. Having, however, a few things in hand, I send them to you as tokens of remembrance, and hope for your acceptance of them.” [47]

The Lama being in this unusually agreeable frame of mind, the British Government yielded without hesitation to his intercession.

The governor himself readily embraced the opportunity, which he thought the occurrence afforded, of extending the British influence to a quarter of the world but little known, and with which we possessed hardly any commercial connexion.

In 1774 a deputation was sent to carry back an answer to the Lama, and to offer him suitable presents. It was furnished also with a variety of articles of English manufacture, to be produced as specimens of the trade in which the subjects of the Lama might be invited to participate. The result was, that in 1779, when the Lama visited the Emperor of China at Pekin, desirous of improving his connexion with the Government of Bengal, he desired the British envoy to go round by sea to Canton, promising to join him at the capital. The Emperor’s promise was at the same time obtained to permit the first openings of an intercourse between that country and Bengal, through the intermediate channel furnished by the Lama.

The death of both the Lama and the envoy, however, which happened nearly at the same time, destroyed the plans thus formed.

Soon after the receipt of the letters announcing the Lama’s death, intelligence arrived of his reappearance in Thibet! His soul, according to the doctrines of their faith, had passed into and animated the body of an infant, who, on the discovery of his identity by such testimony as their religion prescribes, was proclaimed by the same title as his predecessor.

Warren Hastings then proposed a second deputation to Thibet, and Captain Turner was accordingly nominated on the 9th January, 1783.

His mention of the sculptured stones and inscription is as follows:—

“Another sort of monument is a long wall, on both faces of which near the top are inserted large tablets with the words ‘Oom maunee paimee oom’ carved in relief. This is the sacred sentence repeated upon the rosaries of the Lamas, and in general use in Tibet. Of the form of words to which ideas of peculiar sanctity are annexed by the inhabitants, I could never obtain a satisfactory explanation. It is frequently engraven on the rocks in large and deep characters, and sometimes I have seen it on the sides of hills; the letters, which are formed by means of stones fixed in the earth, are of so vast a magnitude as to be visible at a very considerable distance.”

M. Hue’s account of an explanation of the formula, which he received from the highest authority at Lassa, is as follows:—“Living beings are divided into six classes—angels, demons, men, quadrupeds, birds, and reptiles. These six classes of beings correspond to the syllables of the formula, ‘Om mani padmè houm.’ Living beings by continual transformations, and according to their merit or demerit, pass about in these six classes until they have attained the apex of perfection, when they are absorbed and lost in the grand essence of Buddha. Living beings have, according to the class to which they belong, particular means of sanctifying themselves, of rising to a superior class, of obtaining perfection, and of arriving in process of time at the period of their absorption. Men who repeat very frequently and devotedly ‘Om mani padmè houm,’ escape falling after death into the six classes of animate creatures, corresponding to the six syllables of the formula, and obtain the plenitude of being, by their absorption into the eternal and universal soul of Buddha.”

One traveller only I have been able to find who mentions the sentence as I have done. M. Jacquemont writes, in his “Letters from Cashmere and Thibet,” in 1830:—“I am returned from afar; I have often been very cold; I have had a hundred and eighteen very bad dinners: but I think myself amply recompensed for these trans-Himalayan miseries by the interesting observations and vast collections which I have been able to make in a country perfectly new. The Tartars are a very good sort of people. It is true that to please them I made myself a little heathen after their fashion, and joined without scruple in the national chorus, ‘Houm mâni pani houm.’ ”

Judging by the system of spelling he has adopted in other instances in his letters, this would be nearly—as regards the two main words—the same pronunciation as I have given. He however, in another part, follows it still more closely, and at the same time shows that he is aware of a translation which, although probably the true one, has no connexion whatever with the words as he himself actually represents them.

He says—“In Thibet they sing a good deal also—that is, one or two inhabitants per square league—but only a single song of three words—‘Oum mani pani;’ which means, in the learned language, ‘Oh, diamond water-lily!’ and leads the singers direct into Buddha’s paradise.

“But, though composed of three Thibetian words, it is evidently of Indian origin, and I have proved it botanically. The lotus is a plant peculiar to the lukewarm and temperate waters of India and Egypt. There is not one of its genus, or even of its family, in Thibet.”

The words, however, are not, as M. Jacquemont says, Thibetian, but Sanscrit; and, although one of the characters in which they are clothed is the current Thibetian, it would appear that neither their true pronunciation nor actual meaning is known to the people who thus make such frequent use of them.

The sentence itself is in the mouths of all. In the monastery of Hemis alone, probably as many as a hundred wheels are in continual motion, bearing it within their folds not less than 1,700,000 times. The very stones by the wayside present its well-known characters in countless numbers, and the hills repeat it, and yet to those into whose daily religious observances it thus so largely enters, it comes but as a vain and empty sound, without either sense or signification. The Lamas themselves, no doubt, believe that the doctrine contained in these marvellous words is immense, and the higher dignitaries of the Church may know their derivation; but, to the great majority, even the mystic meaning and dim legendary history which the true pronunciation and rightful origin of the words would bring to their minds, are unknown, and they are thus deprived of that large amount of comfort and consolation which they would otherwise derive from the glowing and all-powerful sentence—

“Oh, the jewel in the lotus, Amen!”

APPENDIX C.

A SKETCH OF THE HISTORY OF CASHMERE.

A Mahomedan Writer, “Noor ul deen,” who begins the history of Cashmere with the Creation, affirms that the valley was visited by Adam after the Fall; that the descendants of Seth reigned over the country for 1,110 years; and that, after the deluge, it became peopled by a tribe from Turkistan.

The Hindoo historians add, that, after the line of Seth became extinct, the Hindoos conquered the country, and ruled it until the period of the deluge; and that the Cashmerians were afterwards taught the worship of one God by “Moses;” but, relapsing into Hindoo idolatry, were punished by the local inundation of the province, and the conversion of the valley into a vast lake.

It would appear, from chronicles actually existing, that Cashmere has been a regular kingdom for a period far beyond the limits of history in general. From the year B.C. 2666 to A.D. 1024 it seems to have been governed (according to these authorities) by Princes of Hindoo and Tartar dynasties, and their names, to the number of about a hundred, have been duly handed down to posterity. Of the titles of these worthies, “Durlabhaverddhana” and “Bikrumajeet” will perhaps be sufficient as specimens. During these years, the religion seems at first to have been the worship of snakes, and afterwards Hindooism.

In the reign of Asoca, about the 4th century before Christ, Buddhism was introduced, and after remaining for some time, under Tartar princes, the religion of the country, was again succeeded by Hindooism.

The first Mahomedan king of Cashmere is believed to be “Shahmar,” who came to the throne in A.D. 1341, and during the succeeding reigns Thibet appears to have been first subdued, and was annexed for a time to the kingdom.

The next monarch, who appears notably on the stage, was “Sikunder,” who, influenced by a certain Syud Alee Humudanee and other religious fanatics recently arrived in the country, began to destroy the Hindoo temples and images by fire, and to force the people to abjure idolatry. Previous to this influx of zealots, the country was in a transition state as regards religion and Mahomedanism then began to make some head in the valley.

After this period nothing of very great importance occurred in the kingdom of Cashmere until the year 1584, when the great Akbar summoned the then king “Yûsûf Shah” to present himself in person at the court of Lahore. Finding his orders not complied with, he despatched an army of 50,000 men to enforce obedience, and Yûsûf Shah, preferring apparently to die than fight, delivered himself up, and was sent to Lahore.

The imperial army was afterwards, however, repulsed in attempting to subdue the country, and it was not finally conquered for two years, when Akbar, overcoming all resistance, took possession of the province.

The purity of the emperor’s motives in annexing the territory, and his opinion of his conquest, are amusingly shown in the following letter to his minister Abdûllah Khan:—

“On the mirror of your mind, which bears the stamp of Divine illumination, be it manifest and evident, that at the time when my imperial army happened to be in the territories of the Punjab, although I at first had no other views than to amuse myself with sports and hunting in this country, yet the conquest of the enchanting kingdom of Cashmere, which has never yet been subdued by monarchs of the age, which for natural strength and inaccessibility is unrivalled, and which, for beauty and pleasantness, is a proverb among the most sagacious beholders, became secretly an object of my wishes, because I received constantly accounts of the tyranny of the rulers of that region. Accordingly, in a very short time, my brave warriors annexed that kingdom to my dominions. Though the princes of that country were not remiss in their exertions, yet, as my intentions were established on the basis of equity, it was completely conquered.

“I myself also visited that happy spot, the possession of which is a fresh instance of the Divine favour, and offered up my praise and thanksgiving to the supreme Lord of all things. As I found myself delighted with the romantic bowers of Cashmere, the residence of pleasure, I made an excursion to the mountains of that country and Thibet, and beheld, with the eyes of astonishment, the wonders of the picture of Nature.”

This visit was in A.D. 1588.

The emperor then appears to have entered the valley by the Peer Punjal Pass, and to have been received with every demonstration of joy by the people in whom he took such a fatherly interest. The loyalty of his children, however, was but short-lived, for about the year 1591 he again writes to Abdûllah:—

“I must acquaint your Highness, that just at this time certain persons, under the predominance of an unlucky destiny, raised an insurrection in Cashmere and breathed the air of rebellion and dissatisfaction at the bounty of Providence.

“As soon as the intelligence of this tumult arrived, regardless of deluges of rain, I hastened away by forced marches, but before the troops could get through the passes and enter into that kingdom, certain Omrahs, attached to my interests, who had been obliged by compulsion to join in that rash enterprise, availing themselves of an opportunity, brought me the head of the rebel commander.

“As my forces were near, I visited a second time that ever-verdant garden, and gratified my mind and senses with the beauties of that luxuriant spot.”

With a view to keeping the capital in order, the Fort of Huree Purbut was built, about A.D. 1597, at a cost of over 1,000,000l.

Means were at the same time adopted of rendering the Cashmerians less warlike, and of breaking their independent spirit. To effect this, it is generally believed in Cashmere that the Emperor Akbar caused a change to be made in the dress of the people. Instead of the ancient, well-girdled tunic, adapted to activity and exercise, he introduced the effeminate long gown of the present day, a change which may have led to the introduction of the kangree, or pot of charcoal, now used in the valley.

During Akbar’s reign much was done towards the improvement of the province. The country was adorned with palaces and gardens, and various trees and shrubs were introduced and cultivated.

About the beginning of the seventeenth century, Akbar visited Cashmere for the third and last time, being succeeded, after a reign of fifty-two years, by his son Selim, or Jehangeer, A.D. 1605.

Jehangeer, during the early part of his reign, visited Cashmere many times, and the valley having been surveyed and brought to order by Akbar, nothing remained for his successor but to enjoy the delights of the country in company with his empress, the famous Noor Jehan. In 1621, and in 1624, he repeated his visit, when he built many summer-houses and palaces at Atchabull, Shalimar, &c., and in A.D. 1627 he visited the valley for the last time. He was succeeded in that year by Shah Jehan, who, in 1634, also visited his territories; and, besides improving the country by the introduction of fruit-trees, flowers, &c. from Cabul, he invaded Thibet, and taking the Fort of Ladak, annexed the country to Cashmere.

In 1645 he again visited the valley, and also in the following years, being accompanied by many poets and savants; among the former was a certain Hajee Mahomet Jan, a Persian, who composed a poem on the country; but the difficulties of the road appear to have impressed his mind rather more than the beauties of the scenery. He compares the sharpness of the passes to “the swords of the Feringees,” and their tortuous ascents to “the curls of a blackamoor’s hair!”

In 1657, Shah Jehan, being deposed by his son Aurungzib, was confined in the Fort of Agra for life; and in the year 1664 the new emperor also paid a visit to his Cashmerian dominions. Of this magnificent expedition, M. Bernier, the monarch’s state physician, gives an amusing and detailed description, purporting to be

“A relation of a voyage made in the year 1664, when the Great Mogul, Aureng-Zebe, went with his army from, Dehly to Lahor, from Lahor to Bember, and from thence to that small kingdom of Kachemere, or Cassimere, called by the Mogols the Paradise of the Indies, concerning which the author affirms that he hath a particular history of it, in the Persian tongue.”

“The weighty occasion and cause of this voyage of the Emperor’s, together with an account of the state and posture of his army, and some curious particulars observable in voyages of the Indies,” are thus given by M. Bernier:—“Since that Aureng-Zebe began to find himself in better health, it hath been constantly reported that he would make a voyage to Kachemere, to be out of the way of the approaching summer heats, though the more intelligent sort of men would hardly be persuaded, that as long as he kept his father, Chah-Jean (Shah Jehan), prisoner in the Fort of Agra, he would think it safe to be at such a distance. Yet, notwithstanding, we have found that reason of State hath given place to that of health, or rather, to the intrigues of Rauchenara Begum, who was wild to breathe a more free air than that of the Seraglio, and to have her turn in showing herself to a gallant and magnificent army, as her sister had formerly done during the reign of Chah-Jean.”

The Emperor appears to have made preparations on this occasion for a voyage of a year and a half.

He had with him, not only thirty-five thousand horse, or thereabouts, and ten thousand foot, but also “both his artilleries, the great or heavy, and the small or lighter.

For the carriage of the Emperor’s baggage and stores, no less than 30,000 coolies were required, although, for fear of starving that little kingdom of Kachemere,” he only carried with him the least number of ladies and cavaliers he could manage, and as few elephants and mules as would suffice for the convenience of the former.

Crossing the Peer Punjal, some of the ladies of the Seraglio unfortunately paid the penalty of their too ardent desires to show themselves off to “a gallant and magnificent army,” for “one of the elephants fell back upon him that was next, and he upon the next, and so on to the fifteenth, so that they did all tumble to the bottom of the precipice. It was the good fortune of those poor women, however, that there were but three or four of them killed; but the fifteen elephants remained upon the place.” The historian rather ungallantly adds, “When these bulky masses do once fall under those vast burdens they never rise again, though the way be ever so fair.”

On reaching the summit of the pass after this accident, the expedition appears to have encountered more misfortunes, for “there blew a wind so cold that all people shook and ran away, especially the silly Indians, who never had seen ice or snow, or felt such cold.”

Aurungzib appears to have remained three months in the valley on this occasion.

After his death there is no mention of his successors having visited Cashmere, and the local governors became in consequence, in common with those of other provinces of the tottering Mogul throne, little short of independent rulers. Under the tender mercies of most of these, the unfortunate Cashmeeries appear to have fared but badly.

In 1745, however, a series of misfortunes from another source burst forth upon the inhabitants of the happy valley. A dreadful famine first broke out, during which it is said that slaves sold for four pice (three half-pence) each. The famine produced its natural result, a pestilence, which swept away many thousands of the people; an eclipse also added to their terror, and storms of rain followed by floods carried away all the bridges.

In the year 1752, the country passed from the possession of the Mogul throne, and fell under the rule of the Dûranees, and during many years was convulsed by a series of wars and rebellions, and subject to numerous different governors. In A.D. 1801, Runjeet Singh began to come into notice, and, having consolidated the nation of the Sikhs, had, in the year 1813 become one of the recognised princes of India. In that year Futteh Shah entered into a treaty with him for a subsidiary force for the invasion of Cashmere. The price of this accommodation was fixed at 80,000l. yearly; but, before the expiration of the second year, the Lion of the Punjab, on pretence of the non-fulfilment of the treaty, invaded the valley on his own account at the head of a considerable army. He was repulsed, however, and forced to retreat to Lahore with the loss of his entire baggage. In A.D. 1819, encouraged by recent successes against Moultan, Runjeet Singh collected an army “as numerous as ants and locusts,” and invaded the valley a second time, and being successful, the country again fell under the sway of a Hindoo Sovereign.

It, however, remained for some time afterwards in a disturbed state; and for signal services against the rebellious frontier chiefs, who were averse to Runjeet Singh’s rule, Gûlab Singh (the late Maharajah) obtained possession of the territory of Jumoo, now included in the kingdom of Cashmere.

Runjeet Singh, dying in 1839, was succeeded by his son and grandson, successively, both of whom died shortly after their accession; and the state of anarchy and confusion which ensued among the Sikh Sirdars was terminated by Shere Singh being installed as Maharajah of Lahore.

Under his rule, in 1842, Gûlab Singh further brought himself into notice by reducing the kingdom of little Thibet with the army under Zorawur Singh, and on the termination of the Sikh Campaign of the Sutlej—Duleep Singh being established on the throne of Lahore—he was admitted, “in consideration of his good conduct,” to the privileges of a separate treaty with the British Government.

The result of these privileges was, that he was shortly afterwards put in possession, for “a consideration,” of the entire kingdom of Cashmere.

As indemnification for the expenses of the Sikh Campaign, the British Government had demanded from the Lahore State the sum of a crore and a half of rupees, or 1,500,000l. The whole of this amount, however, was not forthcoming, and it was agreed by Article 4 of the treaty of 9th March, 1846, with the Maharajah Duleep Singh, that all the hill-country between the rivers Indus and Beas, including the province of Cashmere, should be ceded to the Honourable East India Company, in perpetual sovereignty, as an equivalent for one million sterling.

Article 12 of the same treaty guaranteed to Gûlab Singh, in consequence of his services to the Lahore State, its recognition of his independence in such territories as might afterwards be agreed upon; and on the 16th March, 1846, the British Government, by special treaty, made over for ever, in independent possession to Maharajah Gûlab Singh and the heirs male of his body, the greater part of the territories previously mentioned in Article 4. In consideration of this transfer, the Maharajah was to pay to the British Government, within the year, the sum of seventy-five lakhs of rupees (750,000l.). To acknowledge the supremacy of that Government, and, in token of such supremacy, to present it annually the following tribute, viz.:—One horse, twelve perfect shawl goats of approved breed (six male and six female), and three pairs of Cashmere shawls.

Thus, “on the 16th day of March, in the year of our Lord 1846, corresponding with the 17th day of Rubbeeoolawul, 1262, Hijree, was done at Umritsur,” the treaty of ten articles, by which Gûlab Singh was raised to the rank and dignity of an independent ruler.

For seventy-five lakhs of rupees the unfortunate Cashmeeries were handed over to the tender mercies of “the most thorough ruffian that ever was created—a villain from a kingdom down to a half-penny,” and the “Paradise of the Indies,” after remaining rather less than a week a British possession, was relinquished by England for ever.

THE END.

NOTES

[1] Vide Appendix A.

[2] ROADS—I. There are four authorized routes for European visitors to Cashmere.

First. The principal road from the plains by Bimbhur and Rajâoree. This road over the “Peer Punjal” range is not open until May, and is closed by snow at the beginning of November: it is the old imperial route, and the stages are marked by the remains of serais.

[3] A hill conveyance something similar to a hammock, suspended from a pole, with straps for the feet and back, and carried by two bearers.

[4] M. Jacquemont, in his “Letters from Kashmir and Thibet,” carried away no doubt by the ardour of Botanical research, mentions having made a similar discovery, in the following glowing terms:—“The mountains here produce rhubarb; celestial happiness!”

[5] The Pass of the Peer Punjal is 13,000 feet above the level of the sea; the highest peak of the range being 15,000.

[6] Supposed to designate “The City of the Sun;” Sûrya meaning in Sanscrit “the Sun,” and Nugger “a City.”

[7] Cashmere seems to have been regarded for many ages merely as a source of wealth to its absentee lords or present governors, and to have suffered more than ever, since falling under the dominion of Hindoo rulers.

Of the first of this dynasty, who subdued and took possession of the valley in the year 1819, Vigne remarks, in his Travels, “Runjeet Singh assuredly well knew that the greater the prosperity of Kashmīr, the stronger would be the inducement to invasion by the East India Company. ‘Après moi le déluge’ has been his motto, and its ruin has been accelerated not less by his rapacity than by his political jealousy, which suggested to him at any cost the merciless removal of its wealth and the reckless havoc he has made in its resources.”

[8] The Tukt-i-Suliman, an old Hindoo temple, the throne of Solomon the magnificent, the prophet, the mighty magician, whom all pious Mussulmans believe to have been carried through the air on a throne supported by Dives or Afrites, whom the Almighty had made subservient to His will.—Vigne. The summit stands 1,000 feet above the level of the plain, and the date of its erection is believed to be 220 B.C. Vide Appendix A.

[9] “There is no God but God;” “In the name of God.”

[10] This was written without being aware that the native name of Mutton is a corruption of Martund, by which name the temple is also designated.

The meaning of Martund being in Sanscrit “the Sun,” additional grounds have thus been furnished for determining the origin of the ruin. Vide Appendix A.

[11] On this subject a good deal of difference of opinion seems to exist, and from Moore’s descriptions of the furniture of his terrestrial paradise, which have added so much to the fame of the valley, it appears probable that his “muse,” thinking it useless to search abroad for materials which existed in abundance at home, supplied him with what he supposed to be Eastern celestial creations, entirely from his native shores. Vigne, however, says, “I do not think that the beauty of the Kashmirian women has been overrated. They are, of course, wholly deficient in the graces and fascinations derivable from cultivation and accomplishment; but for mere uneducated eyes, I know of none that surpass those of Kashmir.” On the other hand, M. Jacquemont, who found “celestial happiness” in a plant of rhubarb, is unable to discover any beauty whatever in the Cashmerian ladies, and has no patience with his neighbour’s little flights of fancy in depicting their perfections. “Moore,” he writes, in his “Letters from India,” “is a perfumer, and a liar to boot. Know that I have never seen anywhere such hideous witches as in Cashmere. The female race is remarkably ugly.” Instead of adding to such conflicting evidence, I have endeavoured to subpœna a credible witness to speak for herself; and the right of private judgment being thus reserved to the reader, Gûlabie will no doubt be charitably dealt with, and will find her proper position somewhere within the limits of a “hideous witch” and a “celestial being.”

[12] This place is mentioned in the “Tûzûk Jehangeery,” or “Precepts of Jehangeer,” in a way which shows that the Conqueror of the World had not included himself among his victories.

The name appears on a Persian inscription as Wurnagh, but is called by the natives Vernagh, and is mentioned by Jehangeer in his journal as Tirnagh:—

“The source of the river Bhet (Jhelum) ((The Jhelum is called in Cashmere, Behat—a contraction of the Sanscrit Vedasta, which the Greeks slightly altered to Hydaspes.)) lies in a fountain in Cashmeer, named Tirnagh, which, in the language, of Hindostan, signifies a snake—probably some large snake had been seen there. During the lifetime of my father (Akbar) I went twice to this fountain, which is about twenty kos from the city of Cashmere. Its form is octagonal, and the sides of it are about twenty yards in length.

“I accompanied my father to this spot during the season of flowers. In some places the beds of saffron-flowers extend to a kos. Their appearance is best at a distance, and when they are plucked they emit a strong smell. My attendants were all seized with a headache, and though I was myself at the time intoxicated with liquor, I felt also my head affected. I inquired of the brutal Cashmeerians who were employed in plucking them, what was their condition, and they replied that they never had a headache in their lifetime.”

[13] The title of Noor-ûl-deen is also mentioned by Jehangeer in his Journal from Lahore to Cabul, and its origin is thus accounted for in his own words:

“Now that I had become a king, it occurred to me that I ought to change my name, which was liable to be confounded with that of the Cæsars, of Rome.

“The Secret Inspirer of thoughts suggested to me that, as the business of kings is the conquest of the world, I ought to assume the name of Jehangeer, or Conqueror of the World; and that as my accession to the throne had taken place, about sunrise, I ought therefore to take the title of Noor-ûl-deen, or the Light of Religion. I had heard during the time of my youth from several learned Hindoos, that after the expiration of the reign of Akbar, the throne would be filled by a kin, named Noor-ûl-deen. This circumstance made an impression on me, and I therefore assumed the name and title of Jehangeer Badshah.”

[14] These ruins appear to be in the greatest dilapidation of any in the valley. The date of their erection is believed to be A.D. 852.

[15] See Appendix A.

[16] Vide Appendix A.

[17] These monuments would appear to be of the kind designated Chod-tens and Dung-tens, which have been thus described:—“In the monuments which are dedicated to the celestial Buddha, the invisible being who pervades all space, no deposit was made; but the Divine Spirit, who was light, was supposed to occupy the interim. Such are the numerous Chod-tens in Tibet dedicated to the celestial Buddha, in contradistinction to the Dung-tens, which are built in honour of the mortal Buddhas, and which ought to contain some portion of their relies, real or supposed. The first means an offering to the Deity, the latter a bone or relic receptacle. In the Sanscrit these are termed Chaitya and Dagoba.”—Cunningham.

[18] This appears to have been one of the Dagobas or bone-holders, which are erected either over the corse of a Lama or the ashes of some person of consequence. “The tribute of respect is paid in Tibet to the manes of the dead in various ways. It is the custom to preserve entire the mortal remains of the sovereign Lamas only. As soon as life has left the body of a Lama, it is placed upright, sitting in an attitude of devotion, his legs being folded before him, with the instep resting on each thigh, and the sides of the feet turned upwards. The right hand is rested with its back upon the thigh, with the thumb bent across the palm. The left arm is bent and held close to the body, the hand being open and the thumb touching the point of the shoulder. This is the attitude of abstracted meditation.

“The bodies of inferior Lamas are usually burnt, and their ashes preserved with the greatest care, and the monuments in which they are contained are ever after looked upon as sacred, and visited with religious awe.”—Turner.

[19] جو خُدا كريگا سو كويِ نہين كريگا‎

[20] “Tibet may be considered the head-quarters of Buddhism in the present age, and immense volumes are still to be found in that country (faithful translations of the Sanskrit text), which refer to the manners, customs, opinions, knowledge, ignorance, superstition, hopes and fears of a great part of Asia, especially of India in former ages.”—Csoma de Kőrös, Preface to Tibetan Grammar.

[21] These stones would appear to be peculiar to Thibet, although the sentence inscribed upon them has been occasionally discovered elsewhere. Mention of it is thus made in the Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal:—“On the main road from the Valley of Nipal to Tibet stands a diminutive stone, ‘Chaitya.’ Upon this is inscribed a variety of texts from the Buddha Scriptures, and amongst others the celebrated Mantra, or charmed sentence of Tibet. The system of letters called Lantzá in Tibet, and there considered foreign and Indian, though nowhere extant in the Plains of India, is the common vehicle of Sanscrit language among the Buddhists of Nipal Proper, by whom it is denominated Ranjá, in Devanagri रंजा.

“Ranjá, therefore, and not, according to a barbarian metamorphosis, Lántzá, it should be called by us, and by way of further and clearer distinction, the Nipalese variety of Devánágrí. Obviously deducible as this form is from the Indian standard, it is interesting to observe it in practical collocation with the ordinary Thibetan form, and when it is considered that Lántzá or Ranjá is the common extant vehicle of those original Sanscrit works of which the Thibetan books are translations, the interest of an inscription traced on one slab in both characters cannot but be allowed to be considerable. The habit of promulgation of the doctrines of their faith by inscriptions patent on the face of religious edifices, stones, &c., is peculiar to the Buddhists of Thibet. The Mantrá is also quite unknown to the Buddhists of Ceylon and the Eastern peninsula, and forms the peculiar feature of Thibetan Buddhism.”

[22] This was the only explanation of the mounds of inscribed stones which I was able to obtain from a native source; and some foundation for the story may be traced in the legend—which will be found in Appendix B—upon which M. Klaproth has founded the only explanation of the mystic inscription, which I have been as yet able to discover.

By the Lamas themselves I never heard these mounds alluded to otherwise than by the words “Mani panee.” Cunningham, however, who had ample opportunity of ascertaining their meaning and origin, terms them “Manís” (in another form of spelling, “Munees”), and thus describes them:—“The Maní—a word naturalized from the Sanscrit—is a stone dyke, from four to five feet high, and from six to twelve in breadth; length from ten or twenty feet to half a mile The surface of the Maní is always covered with inscribed slabs; these are votive offerings from all classes of people for the attainment of some particular object. Does a childless man wish for a son, or a merchant about to travel hope for a safe return; each goes to a Lama and purchases a slate, which he deposits carefully on the village ‘Maní,’ and returns to his home in full confidence that his prayers will be heard.”

[23] This was in all probability intended to represent the form of the lotus. Vide Appendix B.

[24] Of this custom Turner remarks, alluding to Thibet Proper:—“Here we find a practice at once different from the modes of Europe, and opposite to those of Asia. That of one female associating her fate and fortune with all the brothers of a family, without any restriction of age or numbers. The choice of a wife is the privilege of the elder brother; and singular as it may seem, a Thibetan wife is as jealous of her connubial rites as ever the despot of an Indian Zenana is of the favours of his imprisoned fair.”

[25] “As the inscription of course begins at opposite ends on each side, the Thibetans are careful in passing that they do not trace the words backwards.”—Turner.

[26] This is Mount “Everest,” which has been called, the King of the South. The King of the North, “Nunga Purbut,” is 26,629 feet above the level of the sea.

[27] Vide illustration, Hemis Monastery.

[28] The only information I here again received was “Ûm mani panee!” The wheel consisted of a roll of the thinnest paper, six inches in diameter, and five and a half in width, closely printed throughout with the eternally recurring words, which all appeared so ready to pronounce and none seemed able to explain. The roll was sixty yards long, and was composed of a succession of strips, one foot nine inches in length, and all joined together. The whole was inclosed in a coarse canvas cover, open at both ends, and marked with what was no doubt the official seal of the particular society for the diffusion of ignorance at Lassa, from which it had originally emanated. Each of the strips contained the mystic sentence, one hundred and seventy times, so that I was thus at once put into possession of all the valuable intelligence to be derived from “Ûm mani panee,” repeated between seventeen and eighteen thousand times. Vide Appendix B.

[29] The origin of this divinity is probably derived from the legend of Khoutoukhtou, which will be found in Appendix B.

[30] The most remarkable of these were “Ser” and “Mer,” otherwise called “Nanoo” and “Kanoo;” respectively 23,407 and 23,264 feet above the level of the sea.

[31] The true version of the story appears to be that Gûlab Singh had quarrelled with the Rajah of Cashmere, his rightful master, and entered into the service of the Rajah of Kushtwar. After about three years, hearing that Runjeet Singh was preparing an expedition against Cashmere, he went to him and offered his services. Being accepted, he was successful against his old enemy, and took possession of the country for Runjeet Singh; after which he wrote to the Rajah of Kushtwar, falsely telling him that the Maharajah was going to send a force against him also. The Rajah and his people prepared for resistance, and Gûlab Singh then forged a paper containing an invitation from the chief men in the army of Kushtwar to the Maharajah, encouraging him to come forward and invade the country.

This paper Gûlab then forwarded to the Rajah himself, with a note, in which he told him that it was folly to talk of resistance when the chief men of his country were opposed to him. The Rajah, who had been in possession of Kushtwar for twenty-seven years, was completely deceived, and repaired, by invitation, with only a few followers to Gûlab’s camp. Here he was kept for three months upon an allowance of 10l. a-day, which was afterwards reduced to 10s., and Gûlab Singh in the meantime took possession of Kushtwar without opposition.

[32] The value which a Kashmirian sets upon his Kangrí may be known by the following distich:—

“Oh Kangrí! Oh Kangrí! You are the gift of Houris and Fairies; When I take you under my arm You drive away fear from my heart.”

—Vigne.

[33] “Won’t the old bearers get something, your honour?”

[34] According to M. Voysey, in his Asiatic Researches, “A single flower in the screen contains a hundred stones, each cut to the exact shape necessary, and highly polished; and, although everything is finished like an ornament for a drawing-room chimney-piece, the general effect produced is rather solemn and impressive than gaudy.

“In the minute beauties of execution, the flowers are by no means equal to those on tables and other small works in Pietra dura at Florence. It is the taste displayed in outline and application of this ornament, combined with the lightness and simplicity of the building, which gives it an advantage so prodigious over the gloomy portals of the chapel of the Medici. The graceful flow, the harmonious colours, combined with the mild lustre of the marble on which the ornamentation is displayed, form the peculiar charm of the building, and distinguish it from any other in the world. The materials are Lapis Lazuli, Jasper, Heliotrope or blood stone, Chalcedony, and other agates, Cornelian, Jade, &c.”

[35] A coin of the value of thirty-two shillings.

[36] Hardy’s “Eastern Monachisms.”

[37] Csoma de Kőrös.

[38] Vide page 202.

[39] Muir’s “Life of Mahomet.”

[40] M. Dietrici.

[41] Padmà pâni, fils céleste du Bouddha divin du monde actuel, est, dans cette qualité, entré en fonction depuis la mort du Bouddha terrestre Sakya mouni, comme son remplaçant, chargé d’être après lui le protecteur constant, le gardien et le propagateur de la foi bouddhique renouvelée par Sakya. C’est pour cette raison qu’il ne se borne pas à une apparition unique comme les Bouddhas, mais qu’il se soumet presque sans interruption à une série de naissances qui dureront jusqu’à l’avénement de Maitreya, le futur Bouddha.

On croit aussi qu’il est incarné dans la personne du “Dalai Lama,” et qu’il paraîtra en qualité de Bouddha, le millième de la période actuelle du monde.

Le Tibet est sa terra de prédilection; il est le père de ses habitants, et la formule célèbre: Om mani padmè hom, est un de ses bienfaits.—Rélation des Royaumes Bouddhiques, par Chy Fa Hian, traduit par M. Remusat.

[42] Le mot Khoubilkhan, en Mongol, désigne l’incarnation d’une âme supérieure.

[43] Khoutoukhtou, en Mongol, signifie “Un Saint Maître.”

[44] Le plus petit “Kalpa” est de seize millions huit cent mille ans, et le grand “Kalpa” est d’un milliard trois cents quarante-quatre millions d’années.

[45] Je ne l’ai encore trouvée cette phrase dans aucun ouvrage chinois ou japonais, et notre savant collègue M. Bournouf, m’a dit aussi qu’il ne l’a jamais rencontrée dans les livres palis, birmans et siamois.

[46] اُم مانِپانِي‎

[47] Amongst these were sheets of gilt leather, stamped with the black eagle of the Russian armorial; talents of gold and silver, bags of genuine musk, narrow cloths of woollen the manufacture of Thibet, and silks of China.