Chapter 6
FATEHPUR-SIKRI: This royal but long-destroyed city is sacred to the memory of the Emperor Akbar, who built a gorgeous structure and selected the site through the advice of the renowned Saint Selim Chisti. He eventually abandoned it on account of its unhealthy location, and transferred the capital to Agra, where, as we have seen, he built a fort and the red palace. There is an unusually imposing gateway on one side of Fatehpur-Sikri, leading up to the mosque, but we made our entrance from the adjacent side; hence our first view was like that in the illustration. A large, five-story building to the left served as a recreation place for the ladies of the court, while back and to the left of this was seen the beautiful dome of the mosque, said to be almost a counterpart of the one at Mecca. So many and varied are the buildings in this fort that it is inexpedient to do more than allude briefly to them.
The three palaces of the Sultanas are notable for their beauty, variety, and wealth of ornament, the Sultanas being Miriam, the Portuguese Christian; Rakinah, Akbar's cousin; and the Turkish Sultana. The Emperor also has a suite of several rooms. The palace of Birbal, Akbar's prime minister, is, architecturally, the most perfect of any in the enclosure and was built for his daughter. The rooms allotted to the Zenana are spacious. Near the recreation building is the famous pachisi or chess board, similar to the one at Agra, where Akbar and his vizier, sitting opposite, marshalled the slave girls to and fro.
The plan of the mosque is unusual in its construction, and so is the massive gateway. Passing through the latter, an exquisite monument presents itself in the tomb of Selim Chisti, the venerable hermit saint, who lived a retired existence in a cave and yet who was the controlling force in Akbar's life. The place is simple, and displays such delicacy of skill in its composition as to excite admiration. It is surrounded by a beautiful white marble lattice-work screen, ornamented with brass, and the canopy over the tomb of the saint is inlaid with mother-of-pearl. The photograph is very effective, but, like many others, it has to be omitted (I have five hundred scenes of the tour). The public audience room is encompassed by cloisters. There is a treasury, a mint, a record office, and a building with three large rooms known as the Minchauli Anch, which is said to be the place where the Emperor played hide-and-seek with the ladies of the court; this is probably an erroneous statement.
The most unusual building is the Diwan-i-Khas, the council chamber. From the outside it seems to be two stories high, yet there is really but one story with a large central pillar which is surrounded by an immense circular capital. From this radiates four stone causeways to the corners of the room; these are enclosed by an open trellis with stone balustrades. The shaft of the pillar is finely carved, and all is in perfect condition, due to careful restoration. It is said that the Emperor sat in the centre of the pillar when he held a council, while the four advisers sat in the corners. Stone staircases lead to the roof, where a glimpse of the whole enclosure is afforded. A novel view is obtained down a stone-paved roadway, leading to a large court, at the north end of which is the deer minaret, or circular tower, seventy feet high, decorated with protruding elephants' tusks in stone. From the lanterns at the top, the Emperor is said to have shot antelopes drawn under the column by beaters employed for that special purpose.
Reading between the lines, one learns that Akbar was a very peculiar character, domineering and despotic, yet generous to the immediate members of his household and to his favorite courtiers,--he was very cruel, however, when they displeased him; very broad in his religious views; and although a devoted Mohammedan, he was tolerant of all religions, and there are accounts of religious discussions taking place, in which every shade of belief was represented. He decreed that his daughters should all marry Hindu princes.
Our guide told us that formerly there were underground passages and apartments, but he did not state, as did another guide to a party of tourists at Agra, that these apartments were for the disciplining and torturing of the members of the Zenana and even of his wives. Taking into consideration the attention he gave to the comfort and pleasure of the ladies of the court, as seen in the palaces and the large recreation building extant, this statement appears inconsistent, and so it is necessary to give him the benefit of the doubt. The "auto" ride back to Agra was accomplished without any broken limbs, and another red-letter day was ended.
Before leaving Agra one should either visit the Taj Mahal for a final look, or, from the Jasmine Tower of the palace, gaze through the intervening two miles of space to catch its shadowy outline as seen by Shah Jahan during those seven solitary years of vigil. I chose the latter method for convenience' sake, after visiting the bazars, and in consequence was rewarded with a never-to-be-forgotten view.
Delhi and Agra are indissolubly connected by their rulers and by historical events; in leaving them one feels as if never again would so much of unique interest be presented in the line of architectural skill and poetic sentiment.
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CAWNPORE, _December 24th_: We took a night train from Agra to Cawnpore, arriving there early on the morning of December 24th and stopping over a few hours to break the journey. Cawnpore is full of mutiny memories, and we visited some of the historic points, going first to the Ghat (steps) where cruel Nana Sahib burned, or murdered, a boatload of Englishmen; also to other scenes of horror. Then we went to the memorial well, and to the memorial church with its peaceful interior, which was being decorated with greens in true English fashion, for the service of the morrow, when "Peace and good will to men" would ring out, and for the time being mutiny memories would be forgotten. We drove to the park, where, as an accessory to a certain artistic building, there is to be seen an exquisite angel of carved marble, a memorial erected by the Government. Next, we visited some bazars of no special interest.
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LUCKNOW, _December 24th_: After luncheon, we took the train for Lucknow. On the way, Murray's "Lucknow" was re-read, and another mutiny chapter added. Lucknow is the capital of the province of Oudh. In 1813 the English conferred the title of king on the ruler, but, for reasons of distrust, withdrew it in 1856, and at the same time discharged eighty thousand high-caste soldiers,--an action which produced instant dissatisfaction and was one of the direct causes for the mutiny. We arrived at Wutzler's Royal Hotel in the late afternoon, and felt gladdened by the comfort and good cheer that awaited us,--a hopeful sign inasmuch as the morrow was Christmas Day. A drive to Wingfield Park and a visit to an exquisite tomb mosque ended the sight-seeing day.
Christmas without the usual morning service seemed peculiar, but the law of the majority in our party prevailed, and we drove instead to the Fort and Residency, the centre of interest since 1857. The awe and solemnity inspired by that visit, with the Christmas bells ever and anon breaking the silence, can never be forgotten. The Residency is situated in the centre of a large park which was the scene of a siege lasting from July 1 to November 17, 1857, three thousand men, women, and children, besides the military, being there for safety. The number of refugees was reduced to one thousand by September; the large rooms on the ground floor of the Government building, with two stories above and extensive subterranean rooms, made their stay possible, but involved great suffering and horrible death as the siege went on. The large banquet hall of the Residency near by was converted into a hospital. Both buildings are now in ruins. But the roofless Residency with a tangle of vines (and a decrepit stairway that leads upward) furnishes a fine view of the whole scene, which in its very quietness bespeaks bravery, endurance, and heroic suffering.
The buildings of Lucknow are not important, with the exception of the Jumma Musjid, the great Imambara with its fine gateway, court, and arcades. The Imambara Mosque has two minarets, and the great Imambara Hall, one hundred and sixty-three by fifty-three feet and forty-nine feet high, is one of the largest vaulted galleries in the world. The palaces of the late king of Oudh, the clock tower and other mosques and tombs, were visited, for, as usual, the persistent guide insisted on our seeing all the "sights" (exaggerating the descriptions, it always seemed, in proportion to their lack of importance), and it was "Memsahib this" and "Memsahib that." Christmas Day, with a June temperature, soon came to a close; the dinner was somewhat English in its many appointments, with its roast beef and plum pudding,--other home touches being added by our ever-thoughtful Director. There was good cheer, but we silently thought of home and the friends far away.
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BENARES, _December 26th_: Benares is the sacred city of India, and the river Ganges with the ghats is the point where thousands upon thousands of worshippers congregate, coming from every point where Hinduism prevails. We had anticipated revolting scenes, and were not disappointed, as the superstition of the devotees, the grasping conduct of the priests, and the disgusting practices in the name of so-termed religion all contributed to that end. We arrived during the afternoon of December 26th, going to the Hôtel de Paris. A drive was instantly proposed, and we were taken to the Maharaja's palace, with grounds laid out conventionally, the trees and shrubs representing peacocks and animals of different kinds. The palace was spacious but tawdrily furnished; it is noteworthy as being the home to which the Maharaja and his family repair whenever they feel the approach of death; there is a superstition among the Hindus that death must occur on the north bank of the sacred river Ganges, in order to become a monkey after death (monkeys are considered sacred); for if the demise occurs on the opposite side of the Ganges, one would surely become a donkey.
We next turned toward the celebrated Monkey Temple, a pretentious but inartistic structure of red sandstone, presided over by the monster wife of Siva, the Goddess Kali, who is seated on an interior shrine and almost terrifies the beholder by her demoniacal smile, her neck being wreathed with skulls. The Goddess of Blood demands a daily sacrifice, usually a goat and sometimes even a buffalo. At least twenty terrible-looking priests were in attendance upon her when we arrived and were ready to slay the inoffensive goat if money was forthcoming. We, however, declined to witness such a spectacle. Monkeys, disgustingly old and fat, were everywhere, and filled large trees surrounding the temple, two hundred at least being visible. Beggars, mendicants, and priests were abundantly in evidence.
In an attempt to throw some small coins to some children, I was nearly crushed, the crowd closing around me and separating me from my party, until a tall Brahman priest with a huge stick checked the mob and I escaped, to be admonished by the Director of the party, who declared that I must never repeat the experiment, however much my sympathies might be drawn upon by the scenes that impressed me.
The following morning we proceeded at 7 A.M. to the scene of all others in Benares, the bathing ghats. These are steps leading down from the plateau to the river on the banks of the Ganges and extending a distance of nearly three miles. Seated in a native small boat, we sailed leisurely up and down for hours, watching the unusual spectacle. The Brahman priests were everywhere (there being thirty thousand in Benares who live on the offerings of the pilgrims), some seated under umbrella-like canopies, some under tents, others bathing, and others performing certain sacred offices for the devotees who had come hither in state, on elephants or camels, by train or on foot, all intent on securing an increase of religious zeal. The crowds bathing in the sacred river are a continuous spectacle. There are piers built out into the stream for convenience, filled with pilgrims of every hue and variety of dress and undress, some simply wearing the loin cloth, which startled us at first, but now seemed the legitimate outcome of a lean purse and a hot climate.
In addition, there is a continuous refrain of voices in solemn supplication to one or more of the many thousands of Hindu gods, for it has been stated that there are two hundred thousand divinities in India. At one point there is a burning ghat, and one morning we witnessed the preparation for two cremations, one of a poor man and the other of the wife of a Maharaja. The two ceremonies differed little, except that the wood for the funeral pile of one cost a mere pittance, while the sandalwood for the latter cost six hundred rupees. The corpse is carried on a small litter, or bier, made of bamboo sticks (a man is robed in white and a woman in red), and deposited in the Ganges, feet foremost; care is taken that the whole body be immersed in order that purification may be complete. The relatives arrange the pile of wood, about eight logs being required. Then the body is transferred to the pyre, and the torch is applied by one of the family, the others sitting solemnly around in a circle. When consumed, the ashes are scattered in the river Ganges. It is a gruesome spectacle, however much it may be in the interest of sanitary science; but less so to me, who had witnessed the distribution of the bodies at the Towers of Silence in Bombay.
It will be seen that the principal commodity in Benares is holiness; but there is one creditable industry, namely, the manufacture of brass. Several shops were visited, but we liked the modern styles less than the old Benares brass with which we were familiar.
One thought was uppermost while in Benares; I had pondered over it before in our visit to India. It was that with the masses Hinduism to-day means superstition and idolatry, in spite of the fact that the earlier teaching was of a pure character. That the cultivated Hindus accept the practices and the priesthood is a mystery as subtle as the law of caste or the iron law of custom. It is a depressing thought, and causes a profound feeling of thankfulness that Providence placed us in a fairer land.
The missionary effort of England, America, and other countries has for years been directed toward changing the condition of the masses, but the law of caste is such that, to use a set phrase, if a man become a Christian, he is ostracized, even by the members of his own family, unless they too follow his example. He is also ostracized as regards any business he may follow, and the sacrifice he is forced to undergo seems almost too great for human endurance. Still, according to missionary reports, this sacrifice is frequently made, which is equivalent to true heroism. Naturally, the progress of proselyting is slower in India than in any other country of the Orient, but it is the consensus of opinion that a greater extension of hospitals in charge of so-termed missionaries and a greater extension of schools for the young are the leaven that will work satisfactory results in the future. Another reassuring sign is the establishment of the Central Hindu College at Benares by Mrs. A.B. Besant, the Theosophist. This is intended to elevate the Hindu youth, combining religious and moral education with mental and athletic development. We saw only the exterior of the building.
Four miles from Benares, at the site of the old Benares, called Sarnath, is a most interesting ancient monument known as the Tope of Sarnath. It is the best preserved of any in Bengal. It was erected in Deer Park to mark the spot sanctified by the presence of Buddha. It was explored in 1835 and found to be a stupa; but containing no relics, it was evidently intended to indicate the spot where Buddha first assumed his mission as a teacher. The tope consists of a stone basement ninety-three feet in diameter and solidly built of stone. Above the stone is brickwork rising to a height of one hundred and twenty feet from the plain. The lower story has niches evidently intended for a figure of Buddha, and below this is a band of sculptured ornaments of great beauty; it is thought from the evidences of ornamentation that in date it corresponds to the best period of Delhi. There is an interesting temple in the vicinity, and there formerly was a large Buddhist monastery. One also finds acres of mounds and debris indicating a large Buddhist foundation in the days when Buddha reigned supreme.
We left Benares for Darjeeling the evening of December 27th, and the prospect of a glimpse of mountain scenery in the famed Himalaya foothills, eight thousand feet above the sea, was exhilarating after the depressing scenes behind us.
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SILIGURI, _December 28th_: We arrived at Siliguri early the following morning, December 28th, and were at once transferred to the Darjeeling and Himalayan Railway (two-foot gauge with open cars), a triumph of engineering skill on account of the sudden and wonderful curves which continue from the beginning to the end and cause the famous Horseshoe Curve of the Pennsylvania Railway to sink into insignificance. The ride was exciting, as every bend revealed something new and startling. Leaving the plain of Bengal behind us, which is a feature of interest, we commenced the ascent; first through a jungle of cane and grass, both very high, where tigers, leopards, bears, deer, and the like have their home; and next through a forest with few familiar trees save the giant oak. Higher up the graceful bamboo is seen, and still higher fruit trees are plentiful; then small tea plantations appear, and a more peaceful landscape. Another bold curve and the glorious snow-capped Kanchanjanga range is in full view,--a perfect panorama, the atmosphere being clear and the sky almost cloudless. It was one of the supreme moments of life. We were now nearing Darjeeling, having made a gradual descent during the last half-hour.
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DARJEELING, _December 28th_: The Woodlands Hotel, picturesquely situated on the side of a lesser mountain, became our abiding-place for all too short a time. Darjeeling is beautifully located upon a ridge, seven thousand feet above water level. The mountain side is picturesque with its sprinkling of villas and bungalows, tall mountains towering up as a background. The average temperature is eighty degrees in summer and thirty in winter; hence it is a favorite resort. There is a sanitarium here, called "The Eden." The mountain views prove a great attraction; the Kanchanjanga range is seen beyond the intervening mountains, with a vast chasm in the foreground.
The Mall is the principal promenade, and winds around Observatory Hill, from which fine glimpses of the country are to be obtained. In the vicinity is St. Andrew's Church, with interesting tablets, and near by the summer residence of the Lieutenant-Governor of Bengal.
We were admonished to hurry our luncheon in order not to lose the opportunity of seeing the celebrated bazar of which we had heard so much, even in Bombay. I do not refer to the regular street bazar, but to a bazar at which crowds of peasants from different provinces congregate once a week for the sale of silver and turquoise jewelry, which is mostly exhibited on their persons, supplemented by a small bundle which is carried; but the transactions are very primitive and unlike those at any other bazar. Then there are the quaint things they wear,--artistic chatelaines with articles generally suspended and thrown over the shoulder, instead of worn around the waist, immense earrings, finger-rings, bracelets, and anklets; also large round silver pins for the hair, suspended between two long ornaments resembling an elongated corkscrew--all linked together with a narrow black ribbon tied in a bow. The wearing of this latter head ornament was very grotesque, and I bought one taken from the hair of a peasant, besides purchasing some other articles which now serve as a reminder of the quaint scene. The dress of the men, women, and children was peculiar, and varied according to their province, such as Bhutias, Tibetans, Nepalese, Pelaris, Ghorkas, and others.
Their shrewd faces were illuminated with smiles as they realized the success of a bargain which was doubtless far in excess of the value of the article purchased; or failing of a bargain their persistent attempts to secure one were amusing. As we walked around through the motley crowd, powerless to express ourselves except in the universal language of pantomime, with mountains all around us and the Kanchanjanga still in view, we felt as though we were a part of a play, it seemed so unreal. Later we visited the street bazars, all of them furnished with articles claimed to be antique. In the evening the proprietor of the hotel gave us an interesting description of scenes in Tibet, illustrated with lantern views.
The cold of late December now became intense, and it required some courage to be called at three o'clock in the morning for an expedition to Tiger Hill to see the sun rise. A half-hour after, nevertheless, saw our departure, and you would have smiled at the spectacle I presented, seated in a chair with six bearers (two for a relay), rugs and cushions piled around me, the crowning feature being a red blanket which, at the last moment, one of the bearers draped around my shoulders. It was moonlight when we left the valley. The view of each mountain and gorge was marvellous, so unlike daylight, as the moon ever throws elusive shadows about all things it touches. Before we reached our destination, the first streak of dawn was faintly outlined against the horizon, as if heralding the approach of some great spectacle, which soon came in shades of gold and pink; then bursting forth like a great ball of fire which illuminated the whole scene, even the distant Kanchanjanga range being suffused with a pinkish glow. We held our breath and were thankful, for the guide had told us that a perfect sunrise was a rare occurrence. Mount Everest, 29,002 feet high, eighty miles distant, and the highest peak in the world, as usual was but dimly seen. After the excitement of the morning, the hot coffee and rolls which were provided for us proved most acceptable. We lingered on for a half-hour, amused that even above the clouds human nature is the same, as every bearer produced rings or other trinkets for our inspection and possible purchase. The descent was made in the blinding sunlight, and indeed it was so warm that we laid aside our blankets, and we noted the different aspects which all Nature wore.