AKBAR.
AN EASTERN ROMANCE.
By
Dr. P. A. S. VAN LIMBURG-BROUWER.
Translated from the Dutch by
M. M.
With notes and an introductory life of the Emperor Akbar,
By
Clements R. Markham. C.B., F.R.S.
London:
W. H. Allen & Co., 13 Waterloo Place.
Publishers to the India Office.
1879.
INTRODUCTORY LIFE OF AKBAR.
The object of the Romance which is now presented to English readers,
in a translated form, is to convey a generally accurate idea of the
court of Akbar, the greatest and best native ruler that ever held sway
over Hindustan. The author, Dr. Van Limburg-Brouwer, was an oriental
scholar, who strove, by this means, to impart to others the knowledge
he had himself acquired, through the study of contemporary writers,
of the thoughts and habits of the great Emperor, and of the manners
and civilization of those who surrounded him.
If he has attained any measure of success in this attempt, his labours
will certainly have been useful, and his work deserves translation. For
on Englishmen, more than on any other people, is a knowledge of so
important a period of Indian history incumbent. This romance of Akbar
is, it is true, but a sketch, and is only intended to excite interest
in the subject. But if it has that effect, and leads to further inquiry
and research, it will secure the object with which it was written,
and will have done useful service.
"Akbar, an Eastern Romance," ("Akbar, een Oostersche Roman,") was
first published in Dutch, at the Hague, in 1872, the year before
the author's death. [1] A German translation appeared at Leipzig in
1877. [2] A native of Holland might not unnaturally undertake such
a work, for the best European contemporary account of the reign of
Akbar was written by a Dutchman, Pieter Van den Broeck. [3]
Students of Indian history are looking forward to the publication
of the Life of Akbar by Prince Frederick of Schleswig Holstein. A
really good biography of so great a ruler will be a work of the highest
importance, and the Prince's proved literary skill [4] and thoroughness
in research justify the anticipation that his Life of Akbar will be
worthy of the subject. The romance by Van Limburg-Brouwer, in its
English dress, will answer its purpose if it gives rise to a desire
for more full and complete information in a graver form, and thus
serves as an avant courier to the life of Akbar by Prince Frederick.
The epoch of Akbar is the one of greatest importance to English
students of the history of India, for two reasons. It is the period
when administration under native rule was best and most efficient,
and it is, consequently, the one with which a comparison with British
rule should be made. It is also the period of which the most detailed
and exact accounts have been written and preserved; so that such a
comparison will be reliable and useful.
A brief introductory notice of the great Emperor's life may, perhaps,
be acceptable to readers of Van Limburg-Brouwer's historical
romance. Akbar was the third Indian sovereign of the House of
Timur. Hindustan had been ruled by Afghans for two centuries and
a half [5] when Baber crossed the Indus and founded the Mughal [6]
Empire in 1525. Baber died in the Charbagh at Agra, on December 26th,
1530, and his son and successor, Humayun, was defeated and driven
out of India by the able and determined Afghan chief, Shir Shah,
in 1540. Shir Shah died on the throne, and was succeeded by a son
and grandson, while Humayun took refuge with Tahmasp, the Shah of
Persia. The restored Afghans kept their power for fifteen years.
The story of Humayun's flight is told by his faithful ewer bearer,
named Jauhar, who accompanied him in his exile. [7]
Jauhar tells us that, in October 1542, a little party of seven or
eight horsemen and a few camels was wearily journeying over the sandy
wastes of Sind, worn out with fatigue, and famished with thirst. The
fugitive Prince Humayun, his wife the youthful Hamida, [8] the ewer
bearer Jauhar, an officer named Rushen Beg, and a few others, formed
the party. Extreme misery had destroyed alike the differences of rank
and the power of concealing the true character. When Rushen's horse was
worn out, he insisted upon taking one which he had lent to the Queen,
a young girl of fifteen within a few days of her confinement. Humayun
gave his own horse to his wife, walked some distance, and then got
on a baggage camel. A few hours afterwards the forlorn wanderers
entered the fort of Amarkot, near Tatta, which is surrounded by a
dreary waste of sand-hills. Here, under the shade of an arka tree,
[9] young Hamida gave birth to a prince, who afterwards became the most
enlightened thinker, and the ablest administrator of his age. Akbar was
born on the 14th of October 1542. Jauhar, by Humayun's order, brought
a pod of musk, which the fugitive king broke and distributed among his
followers, saying, "This is all the present I can afford to make you
on the birth of my son, whose fame, I trust, will one day be expanded
all over the world, as the perfume of the musk now fills this room."
The fugitives then fled up the Bolan Pass, and the little Akbar
remained for some time in the hands of his turbulent uncles at
Kandahar and Kabul, while his parents took refuge at the court of
Persia. Then the wheel of fortune turned. Assisted by Bairam Khan,
a very able general and a native of Badakshan, Humayun fought his way
back into military possession of Lahore and Delhi, and died in 1556,
leaving his inheritance, such as it was, to his young son.
At the time of his father's death, Akbar was only in his fifteenth
year. He was then in the Punjab, with Bairam Khan, putting down
the last efforts of the Afghan faction. Bairam Khan became Regent,
and remained in power until 1560, when the young King assumed the
sovereignty.
In order to appreciate the full extent of Akbar's achievements,
it must be considered that he had to conquer his dominions first,
before he could even think of those great administrative improvements
which signalized the latter part of his life and immortalized his
name. In his first year he possessed the Punjab, and the country round
Delhi and Agra; in the third year he acquired Ajmir; in the fourth,
Gwalior and Oudh; and in 1572 he conquered Gujrat, Bengal, and Bihar;
but it took several years before order could be established in those
countries. Orissa was annexed to Akbar's empire in 1578, by Todar
Mall, who made a revenue survey of the province in 1582. In 1581
Kabul submitted, and was placed under the rule of Akbar's brother,
Mirza Hakim. Kashmir was annexed in 1586, [10] Sind in 1592, and in
1594 Kandahar was recovered from the Persians. In 1595 Akbar commenced
a long war with the Muhammadan Kings of the Dakhin, ending in the
acquisition of Berar. These wars, which were spread over nearly the
whole of Akbar's reign, need not further engage our attention. But in
contemplating the reforms of this admirable prince, it must be borne in
mind that their merit is enhanced by the fact that most of them were
effected during troublous times, and at periods when there must have
been great pressure on his finances. He was a renowned warrior, skilled
in all warlike exercises, and an able and successful general. But
it is not these qualities which raise Akbar so far above the common
herd of rulers. His greatness consists in his enlightened toleration,
in his love of learning, in his justice and magnanimity, and in the
success with which he administered a vast empire. The excellence of
his instruments is one striking proof of his capacity and genius.
The commencement of Akbar's intellectual revolution dates from the
introduction to him of Faizi and Abú-l Fazl, the illustrious sons
of Mubarak. Their father, Shaikh Mubarak, traced his descent from an
Arabian dervish, of Yemen, who settled in Sind. The Shaikh was a man
of genius and great learning, and, having established himself at Agra,
gave his two sons excellent educations. Faizi, the eldest, was born
in 1545. He first went to court in 1568, at the age of twenty-three,
and soon became the Emperor's constant companion and friend. In 1589
he was made Poet Laureate, and he was employed on several diplomatic
missions. He was a man of profound learning and original genius. He
was loved by the Emperor, who was thrown into the deepest grief at
his death, which took place at the age of fifty, on October 5th,
1595. "Shaikh Jío," he exclaimed, "I have brought Hakim Ali with me,
will you not speak to me?" Getting no answer, in his grief he threw
his turban on the ground, and wept aloud.
Shaikh Abú-l Fazl, called Allami, the younger son of Mubarak, was born
on January 14th, 1551, at Agra. He zealously studied under the care
of his father; and in his seventeenth year, towards the end of 1574,
he was presented to the Emperor Akbar by his brother Faizi.
Owing to the birth of his eldest surviving son Salim, at Sikri, in
1570, Akbar had made that place a royal abode. He built a palace and
other splendid edifices there, and it became one of his favourite
places of residence. It was called Fathpúr Sikri. Thither Akbar
went after his campaign in Bihar in 1574, and there his intimacy
with Abú-l Fazl commenced. It was at this time that the memorable
Thursday evening discussions began. Akbar's resolution was to rule
with even hand men of all creeds in his dominions, and he was annoyed
by the intolerance and casuistry of the Ulamas or learned men of the
predominant religion. He himself said, "I have seen that God bestows
the blessings of His gracious providence upon all His creatures
without distinction. Ill should I discharge the duties of my station
were I to withhold my indulgence from any of those committed to my
charge." But he invited the opinions of others on religious points,
and hence these discussions arose. Akbar caused a building to be
erected in the royal garden of Fathpúr Sikri for the learned men,
consisting of four halls, called aiwán, where he passed one night in
the week in their company. The western hall was set apart for Seyyids,
the south for Ulamas, the north for Shaikhs, and the east for nobles
and others whose tastes were in unison with those of the Emperor. The
building was called Ibadat-Khana, and here discussions were carried
on, upon all kinds of instructive and useful topics.
Besides Faizi and Abú-l Fazl, there were many learned men in constant
attendance on the Emperor. Their father, Shaikh Mubarak, was a poet,
and a profound scholar. Mulla Abdul Kadir, called El Badauni, was born
at Badaun, in 1540, and studied music, astronomy, and history. He
was employed to translate Arabic and Sanscrit works into Persian;
but he was a fanatical Muhammadan, and in his "Tarikh-i Badauni,"
a history brought down to 1595, he always speaks of Faizi and Abú-l
Fazl as heretics, and all references to the speculations of Akbar
and his friends are couched in bitter and sarcastic terms. He,
however, temporized, and did not allow his religion to interfere
with his worldly interests. His history contains much original
matter. He also translated the great Hindu epic "Mahabharata"
in 1582, and the "Ramayana" between 1583 and 1591. Of the former
poem he says, "At its puerile absurdities the eighteen thousand
creations may well be amazed. But such is my fate, to be employed
on such works! Nevertheless, I console myself with the reflection
that what is predestined must come to pass." The Khwaja Nizamu-d din
Ahmad was another historian of Akbar's court. He also was a good,
but not a bitter Musalman. His "Tabakat-i Akbari" is a history of the
Muhammadan Kings of Hindustan from Mahmud of Ghazni to the year 1594,
which was that of his own death. Other historians of the reign were
Shaikh Illahdad Faizi Sirhindi, whose "Akbar-nama" comes down to 1602;
Maulana Ahmad, of Tatta, who compiled the "Tarikh-i Alfi," under the
Emperor's own superintendence, and Asad Beg, who related the murder
of Abú-l Fazl and the death of Akbar, bringing his narrative down
to 1608. The greatest settlement officer and financier of Akbar's
court was Todar Mall. There were also poets, musicians, and authors
of commentaries who were encouraged by the liberality of the Emperor.
Professors of all creeds were invited to the court of this enlightened
sovereign, and cordially welcomed. Among these were Maulana Muhammad,
of Yazd, a learned Shiah; Nuruddin Tarkhan, of Jam, in Khurasan,
a mathematician and astronomer; Sufi philosophers, fire-worshippers
from Gujrat, Brahmans, and the Christian missionaries Aquaviva,
Monserrato, and Henriquez.
The Thursday evening meetings at the Ibadat Khana, near the tank
called Anúptalao, in the gardens of Fathpúr Sikri, were commenced in
1574. Akbar was at first annoyed by the intolerance of the Muhammadan
Ulamas, and encouraged the telling of stories against them. Quarrels
were the consequence. On one occasion Akbar said to Badauni, "In future
report to me any one of the assembly whom you find speaking improperly,
and I will have him turned out." Badauni said quietly to his neighbour,
Asaf Khan, "According to this a good many would be expelled." His
Majesty asked what had been said, and when Badauni told him, he was
much amused, and repeated it to those who were near him. Decorum was,
however, enforced after this, and the more bigoted Muhammadans had to
curb their violence. But their feelings were very bitter when they
saw their sovereign gradually adopting opinions which they looked
upon as more and more heretical, and at last embracing a new religion.
El Badauni says that Akbar, encouraged by his friends Faizi and Abú-l
Fazl, gradually lost faith, and that in a few years not a trace of
Muhammadan feeling was left in his heart. He was led into free thinking
by the large number of learned men of all denominations and sects
that came from various countries to his court. Night and day people
did nothing but inquire and investigate. Profound points of science,
the subtleties of revelation, the curiosities of history, the wonders
of nature, were incessantly discussed. His Majesty collected the
opinions of every one, retaining whatever he approved, and rejecting
what was against his disposition, or ran counter to his wishes. Thus
a faith, based on some elementary principles, fixed itself in his
heart; and, as the result of all the influences that were brought to
bear on him, the conviction gradually established itself in his mind
that there were truths in all religions. If some true knowledge was
everywhere to be found, why, he thought, should truth be confined to
one religion? Thus his speculations became bolder. "Not a day passed,"
exclaims El Badauni, "but a new fruit of this loathsome tree ripened
into existence."
At length Akbar established a new religion, which combined
the principal features of Hinduism with the sun-worship of the
Parsís. [11] The good parts of all religions were recognized,
and perfect toleration was established. The new faith was called
Tauhid-i Ilahi, divine monotheism. A document was prepared and signed
by the Ulamas, the draft of which was in the handwriting of Shaikh
Mubarak. The Emperor, as Imam-i Adil (just leader) and Mujtahid, was
declared to be infallible, and superior to all doctors in matters of
faith. [12] Abú-l Fazl was the chief expounder of the new creed.
Had Akbar, as a private individual, avowed the opinions which he formed
as an Emperor, his life would not have been worth a day's purchase;
but in his exalted station he was enabled to practise as a ruler the
doctrines which he held as a philosopher. Or, as Abú-l Fazl puts
it: "When a person in private station unravels the warp and woof
of the veil of deception, and discovers the beautiful countenance
of consistency and truth, he keeps silence from the dread of savage
beasts in human form, who would brand him with the epithets of infidel
and blasphemer, and probably deprive him of life. But when the season
arrives for the revelation of truth, a person is endowed with this
degree of knowledge upon whom God bestows the robes of royalty, such
as is the Emperor of our time." The disputations came to an end in
1579, and Akbar held the new creed to the end of his life.
Meanwhile Akbar's learned men were engaged in compilations and
translations from Arabic and Sanscrit into Persian. The history called
"Tarikh-i Alfi" was to be a narrative of the thousand years of Islam
from the Hijrah to 1592 A.D. Akbar held that Islam would cease
to exist in the latter year, having done its work. The "Tarikh-i
Alfi" was intended to be its epitaph. It was chiefly written by
Maulava Ahmad, of Tatta, but Abú-l Fazl and others assisted. Faizi
translated the Sanscrit mathematical work called "Lilawati"; and,
as has already been said, Badauni, with the aid of others, prepared
translated versions of the two great Hindu epics.
But the most famous literary work of Akbar's reign was the history
written by Abú-l Fazl, in three volumes, called the "Akbar-namah." The
first volume contains a history of the House of Timur down to the
death of Humayun; the second is a record of the reign of Akbar,
from 1556 to 1602; and the third is the "Ain-i Akbari," the great
Administration Report of Akbar's Empire.
The first book of the "Ain-i Akbari" treats of the Emperor, and of his
household and court. Here we are introduced to the royal stables, to
the wardrobe, and kitchens, and to the hunting establishment. We are
initiated into all the arrangements connected with the treasury and
the mint, the armoury, [13] and the travelling equipage. In this book,
too, we learn the rules of court etiquette, and also the ceremonies
instituted by Akbar as the spiritual guide of his people.
The second book gives the details of army administration, the
regulations respecting the feasts, marriage rites, education,
and amusements. This book ends with a list of the Grandees of the
Empire. [14] Their rank is shown by their military commands, as
mansabdars or captains of cavalry. All commands above five thousand
belonged to the Shah-zadahs or Emperor's sons. The total number
of mansabs or military commands was sixty-six. Most of the higher
officers were Persians or Afghans, not Hindustani Muhammadans, and
out of the four hundred and fifteen mansabdars there were fifty-one
Hindus, a large percentage. It was to the policy of Hindu generals
that Akbar owed the permanent annexation of Orissa. [15]
The third book is devoted to regulations for the judicial and executive
departments, the survey and assessment, and the rent-roll of the great
finance minister. The fourth book treats of the social condition and
literary activity of the Hindus; and the fifth contains the moral
and epigrammatic sentences of the Emperor.
It is to the third book, containing the details of the revenue
system, that the modern administrator will turn with the deepest
interest. Early in his reign Akbar remitted or reduced a number of
vexatious taxes. [16] His able revenue officers then proceeded to
introduce a reformed settlement based on the indigenous scheme, as
matured by Shir Shah. The greatest among Akbar's fiscal statesmen was
Todar Mall, who settled Gujrat, Bengal, and Bihar, and introduced the
system of keeping revenue accounts in Persian. Next to him was Nizam
Ahmad, the author of the "Tabakat-i Akbari," who spent his life in
the Emperor's service.
From time immemorial a share in the produce of land has been the
property of the State in all eastern countries. From this source the
main part of the revenue has been raised, and the land tax has always
formed the most just, the most reliable, and the most popular means
of providing for the expenditure of the government. In Muhammadan
countries this land tax is called khiraj, and is of two kinds,
the one mukasimah, when a share of the actual produce was taken,
and the other wazifa, which was due from the land whether there was
any produce or not.
In Hindu times, and before the reign of Akbar, the khiraj in India
was mukasimah. The Emperor's officers adopted the system of wazifa
for good land, and carried the settlement into effect with great
precision and accuracy in each province of his dominions. Bengal and
part of Bihar, Berar, and part of Gujrat, however, appear to have
been assessed according to the value of the crops, the surveys of the
land not being complete. Akbar took one-third of the estimated value,
and he left the option of payment in kind to the farmers, except in
the case of sugar-cane and other expensive crops.
The lands were divided into four classes, with different revenue to
be paid by each, namely:--
1. Land cultivated every harvest, and never fallow.
2. Land lying fallow at intervals.
3. Land lying fallow for four years together.
4. Land not cultivated for five years and upwards.
The principle of wazifa was only applied to the two first of
these classes of land, and to the second only when actually under
cultivation. The lands of these two classes were divided into good,
middling, and bad. The produce of a bigah (5/8 of an acre) of each
sort was added together, and a third of that was considered to be the
average produce. One-third was the share of the State, as settled by
Akbar's assessment. Large remissions were allowed on the two inferior
classes of land. The settlements were for ten years. In about 1596
the land revenue derived from the fifteen subahs or provinces of
Akbar's empire was as follows:--
Rupees. [17]
1. Allahabad 53.10.677
2. Agra 1.36.56.257
3. Oudh 50.43.954
4. Ajmír 71.53.449
5. Gujrat 1.09.20.057
6. Bihar 55.47.985
7. Bengal 1.49.61.482
8. Delhi 1.50.40.388
9. Kabul 80.71.024
10. Lahor 1.39.86.460
11. Multán 96.00.764
12. Malwah 60.17.376
13. Berar 1.73.76.117
14. Khandeish 75.63.237
15. Tattah 16.56.284
------------
14.19.05.511
A later return, referred to by Mr. Thomas, gives Akbar's land revenue
at £16,582,440. Under his grandson, Shah Jahan, it increased to
£22,000,000, and Aurangzib's land revenue, in 1707, was upwards of
£30,000,000. [18]
On an average about a twentieth is deducted for jaghírs, or rent-free
lands, and sayurghals or assignments for charitable purposes.
The "Ain-i Akbari" of Abú-l Fazl is rendered valuable not only by
the varied information it contains, but also by the trustworthiness
of the author. Mr. Blochmann says that Abú-l Fazl has been too often
accused by European writers of flattery, and of wilful concealment
of facts damaging to the reputation of his master. He bears witness
that a study of the "Akbar-namah" has convinced him that the charge is
absolutely unfounded. Abú-l Fazl's love of truth, and his correctness
of information are apparent on every page of his great work.
The last years of the reign of Akbar were clouded with sorrow. His
eldest son, Salim, was dissipated, ungrateful, and rebellious, and
bore special hatred against his father's noble minister. The two
younger sons died early from the effects of drink. "Alas," exclaimed
Abú-l Fazl, "that wine should be burdened with suffering, and that
its sweet nectar should be a deadly poison!" [19]
In 1597 Abú-l Fazl left the court, and went for the first time
on active service in the Dakhin. He had been absent for more than
four years, when the rebellious conduct of Salim, the heir apparent,
induced Akbar to recall his trusty minister. His presence was urgently
needed. Abú-l Fazl hurriedly set out for Agra, only accompanied by
a few men. Salim thought this an excellent opportunity of getting
rid of his father's faithful friend, and bribed Rajah Bir Singh,
a Bundela chief of Urchah, through whose territory he would have to
pass, to waylay him. On the 12th of August 1602, at a distance of a
few miles from Narwar, Bir Singh's men came in sight. The minister
thought it a disgrace to fly, which he might easily have done. He
defended himself bravely, but, pierced by the lance of a trooper, he
fell dead on the ground. The assassin sent the head of Abú-l Fazl to
his employer; and Akbar, with all the diligence of his officers and
troops, was never able to secure and punish the murderer. His own
son was the greater criminal of the two, and in his memoirs Salim
confesses his guilt with unblushing effrontery. [20]
Mr. Blochmann thus sums up the career of Abú-l Fazl. "As a writer
he is unrivalled. Everywhere in India he is known as the great
Munshi. His letters are studied in all Madrasahs, and are perfect
models. His influence on his age was immense. He led his sovereign
to a true appreciation of his duties, and from the moment that he
entered court the problem of successfully ruling over mixed races
was carefully considered, and the policy of toleration was the result."
The great Emperor did not long survive his beloved and faithful
minister. Akbar died on November 10th, 1605, in his sixty-third year,
and was buried in the magnificent tomb at Sikundra, near Agra. There
his bones still rest, and his tomb is treated with all honour and
respect by the present rulers of the land. A new cloth to cover the
actual tomb was presented by the Earl of Northbrook, after his visit
to Sikundra in November 1873, when he was Viceroy of India.
Akbar's wives were Sultana Rajmihal Begum, a daughter of his uncle
Hindal, by whom he had no children; Sultana Sulimah Begum, a daughter
of a daughter of Baber, who was a poetess; Nur Jahan; and the Rajput
Princess Jodh Bai, the mother of Salim.
His children were Hasan and Husain, who died in infancy; Salim,
his successor; Murad and Danyal, who died of drink in the lifetime
of their father, and three daughters.
Akbar is described by his son Salim as a very tall man, with the
strength of a lion, which was indicated by the great breadth
of his chest. His complexion was rather fair (color de trigo
is the description of a Spanish missionary who knew him), his
eyes and eyebrows dark, his countenance handsome. His beard was
close-shaved. His bearing was majestic, and "the qualities of his mind
seemed to raise him above the denizens of this lower world." [21]
The Emperor Akbar combined the thoughtful philosophy of Marcus
Aurelius, the toleration of Julian, the enterprise and daring of his
own grandsire Baber, with the administrative genius of a Monro or a
Thomason. We might search through the dynasties of the East and West
for many centuries back, and fail to discover so grand and noble a
character as that of Akbar. No sovereign has come nearer to the ideal
of a father of his people. [22]
Akbar was the contemporary of Queen Elizabeth. He began to reign two
years before her, and outlived her for two years, but he was nine
years younger than the great Queen. He was succeeded by his son Salim,
under the name of Jahangir, who reigned from 1605 to 1627.
The native sources whence the story of Akbar's glorious reign are
derived, have already been indicated. To a considerable extent they are
accessible in an English form. The translation of the "Ain-i Akbari,"
by Gladwin, was published in 1800, and that of the historian Ferishta,
by General Briggs, in 1829. Elphinstone gives a brief account of
Akbar's reign in his history of India. In 1873 Blochmann's admirable
translation of the two first books of the "Ain-i Akbari" was printed
at Calcutta, for the Asiatic Society of Bengal. The work also contains
many extracts from El Badauni and the "Akbar-namah," and a perfect
mine of accurate and well arranged information from other sources.
In Volumes V. and VI. of the great work edited by Professor Dowson,
[23] the history of Akbar's reign is very fully supplied by extracts
from the "Tabakat-i Akbari," the "Akbar-namah," the "Tarikh-i Badauni,"
the "Tarikh-i Alfi," the work of Shaikh Nurul Hakk, and that of
Asad Beg. Mr. Edward Thomas, F.R.S., has published a most valuable
little book on the revenue system of Akbar and his three immediate
successors. [24]
The slight notices of Akbar by contemporary or nearly contemporary
Europeans are derived from reports of the Jesuit missionaries, from
those of the Dutch at Surat, and from Hakluyt's Voyages. As early as
1578 the Emperor had received a Christian missionary named Antonio
Cabral, at Fathpúr Sikri, had heard him argue with the Mullas, and
had been induced to write to Goa, requesting that two members of the
Society of Jesus might be sent to him with Christian books. In 1579
Rudolf Aquaviva [25] and Antonio Monserrat were accordingly despatched,
with Francisco Henriquez as interpreter. They were well received, and
again in 1591 three brethren visited Akbar's court at Lahore. Finally
a detachment of missionaries was sent to Lahore, at Akbar's request,
in 1594, consisting of Geronimo Xavier (a nephew of St. Francis),
Emanuel Pineiro, a Portuguese, mentioned by Captain Hawkins, [26] and
Benedek Goes, [27] the famous traveller, who went with Akbar on his
summer trip to Kashmir. Xavier and Goes also accompanied the Emperor
in his Dakhin campaign; and when Goes set out on his perilous overland
journey to China, that liberal monarch praised his zeal and contributed
to his expenses. This was in 1602. Xavier celebrated Christmas with
great solemnity at Lahore, and wrote a life of Christ in Persian,
which Akbar read with much interest. Accounts of the visits of these
missionaries to Akbar's court, and of their journeys, are to be found
in the Jesuit Histories. [28]
But the most valuable European account of the reign of Akbar was
written by Pieter van den Broek, the chief of the Dutch factory at
Surat in 1620. It was published, in Latin, by Johan de Laet, and
forms the tenth chapter of his "De Imperio Magni Mogolis" (Leyden,
1631). De Laet calls it "a fragment of Indian history which we have
received from some of our countrymen, and translated from Dutch into
Latin." [29] Mr. Lethbridge has supplied an English version in the
"Calcutta Review" for July 1873. [30]
Ralph Fitch is the only English traveller who has written an account
of a visit to the court of Akbar. [31] Accompanied by Mr. John Newbery,
a jeweller named William Leedes, and James Story, a painter, he reached
the court at Agra with a letter of introduction from Queen Elizabeth,
in the year 1585. Thence Newbery started to return overland. Leedes
entered the service of Akbar, settling at Fathpúr; and Fitch went on
to Bengal, eventually returning home.
Abú-l Fazl tells us, casually, that, through the negligence of the
local officers, some of the cities and marts of Gujrat were frequented
by Europeans. Two centuries and a half after his master's death,
these intruders held undisputed sovereignty not only over the whole of
Akbar's empire, but over all India, a vast dominion which had never
before been united under one rule. They approached from the sea, the
base of their operations is their ships, and not, as in the case of
Akbar's grandsire, the mountains of the north-west frontier.
If the balance of administrative merit is in favour of the English,
and this is not established, it in no way detracts from the glory
of the great Emperor. Yet we may claim that the islanders who now
occupy the place of Akbar are not unworthy to succeed him. The work
that is before us is more prosaic than was the duty of the puissant
sovereign. The charm of one central glory, round which all that was
great and good in India could congregate; the fascination of one ruling
spirit, combining irresistible power with virtue and beneficence;
the pomp and circumstance of a brilliant court--all these are gone
for ever. We have instead the united thought and energy of many sound
heads and brave hearts, working without ostentation, and achieving
objects of a magnitude and endurance such as no single brain of any
despot, how great soever, could even conceive.
"The old order changeth, yielding place to new,
And God fulfils Himself in many ways."
BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR.
The author of the romance of Akbar, Dr. P. A. S. van Limburg-Brouwer,
was the son of the Professor of Greek at Groningen. He was born
at Liege in 1832, and was a Doctor of Law, residing chiefly at the
Hague, and devoting himself to eastern and other studies. He held an
appointment in the office of the Royal Archives, and was for a short
time a member of the States General for the district of Trenthe.
With reference to his eastern studies, we find them bearing fruit
in the periodical literature of Holland during the last ten years
of his life. In 1863 Van Limburg-Brouwer contributed an essay on the
Ramayana, to the "Gids," a magazine published at Amsterdam. [32] In
1866 a historical sketch from his pen, entitled the "Java Reformers,"
appeared in the same periodical. [33] In 1867 he contributed three
articles, entitled, "The Adventures of an Indian Nobleman"; "The Book
of Kings: an Essay of Indian History"; and "The Vedanta: an Essay on
Indian Orthodoxy." [34] In 1868 he published articles entitled "Eastern
Atheism," and "A Cure for Beauty." [35] His metaphysical drama, "The
Moon of Knowledge," saw the light in 1869. [36] In the following year
he seems to have given his attention to Arabian lore, and published
two articles entitled "Poetry of the Desert," and the "Kabbala." [37]
Towards the end of his life Van Limburg-Brouwer commenced the study
of Chinese, and among the results of his labours in this field of
research was his article on "The Sage of the Celestial Empire, and
his School." [38] He was a man of extensive and varied learning,
endowed with a rich and fertile imagination, and with great powers
of expression. In his romance of Akbar, his most carefully drawn
character, and that on which he seems to have bestowed most thought,
is the Hindu girl Iravati. In her he endeavoured to portray his
conception of the class of devoted loving women of whom Damayanti is
the type; and Siddha Rama is evidently intended to be the Nala of a
later age. But he has bestowed equal care on his treatment of the more
difficult part of his subject, and has brought considerable ability
and much study and research to the task of presenting to his readers
a vivid and at the same time a life-like picture of that remarkable
prince round whom the action of the story centres, and of the two
brothers who were his devoted friends.
Akbar is the work on which Van Limburg-Brouwer's literary fame
will mainly rest. It was only published in 1872, the year before
the author's death. He died at the Hague, in his forty-first year,
on the 13th of February 1873. [39]
THE AUTHOR'S PREFACE.
The grand figure of the Emperor Akbar, the ruler of India during
the last half of the sixteenth century (1556-1605), for many reasons
appeared to me to be of such importance that I could not resist the
temptation of making him the chief person in a romantic sketch which
I now venture to offer to public notice.
Some readers may desire to be able to distinguish accurately between
what is, and what is not historical. For their benefit I give the
following explanation. To real history, besides Akbar himself, belong
his son Salim, the Wazir Abú-l Fazl, and his brother Faizi, Abdul
Kadir Badaoni, Rudolf Aquaviva the Jesuit, and a few others of less
note. Parviz belongs to history, but he bore another name. Nandigupta
is not a historical personage, but rather the type of a character often
met with in the history of India, and especially of Kashmir. Gorakh
and his Thugs are also types. Iravati was not a real person, but
the image of a Hindu woman as she is often met with in the ancient
dramas and legends of India. Many of the sayings and speeches placed
in the mouths of the characters in the romance are historical. For
reasons which may be easily understood, the events in the narrative
are made to deviate slightly from historical truth. In the days of
Akbar, for instance, Kashmir was no longer ruled by Hindu Princes,
although the people were entirely Indian. Again; the attempt of Salim,
concerning which many particulars are given, was not made during an
expedition against Kashmir, but against the Dakhin. Faizi was older
than Abú-l Fazl, and died before his brother's murder. Fathpúr lies
at a greater distance from Agra than would appear in the following
pages. In the characters and acts of the people there are also some
slight and unimportant deviations from historical fact.
The attempt has been made to follow the oriental forms, especially
in the conversations, so far as was possible without slavish
imitation. The poems, which are here and there woven into the
narrative, have been translated by me from the originals.
It is scarcely necessary to give here an exact list of the sources
which have aided in the composition of this work; nor is there much
to impart, on this subject, that would be new to the historian. He
knows well that the principal authorities for the life of Akbar,
for his institutions and ideas, are the writings of Abú-l Fazl and
Abdul Kadir, whence eastern as well as western writers have drawn
their information. The reports of the Jesuits of that period, though
often prejudiced, yet in many points supplement and illustrate the
works of native historians. It is also necessary to add that various
modern histories and books of travel have been used.
For what is purely Indian in this romance, Sanscrit literature, with
its many legends, dramas, and romances, has been made use of. For
the philosophical ideas of Akbar the best authority is his principal
opponent, Abdul Kadir. The Vedas, from which the Emperor borrowed
many of his ideas, have also been consulted.
One source of information merits special mention, as it is but
little known. That is, the reports on the country and people made by
merchants of our East India Company, who, shortly after Akbar's reign,
were established at Surat and Agra. Their letters are still preserved
in our colonial archives.
How accurate soever one may strive to be, yet in an attempt of this
kind there must always be the possibility of errors, especially in
the descriptions of places. If here and there mistakes have crept
into the text, the writer asks pardon in anticipation, and will be
grateful for any corrections.
The Hague,
October, 1872.
CONTENTS.
Page
Introductory Life of Akbar v
Biographical Notice of the Author xxxix
The Author's Preface xliii
Chapter I.--The Hermit 1
Chapter II.--Iravati 22
Chapter III.--Agra 45
Chapter IV.--Akbar 70
Chapter V.--A New and an Old Acquaintance 95
Chapter VI.--Salim 116
Chapter VII.--Secret Meetings 139
Chapter VIII.--A Tempter 161
Chapter IX.--The Weighing of the Emperor 187
Chapter X.--Surprises 209
Chapter XI.--"Tauhid-i-Ilahi" 230
Chapter XII.--Assassination 250
Chapter XIII.--Parting 265
Chapter XIV.--The Discovery 286
Chapter XV.--Amendment 305
Chapter XVI.--Faizi's Curse 322
Chapter XVII.--The Tomb 337
AKBAR.
CHAPTER I.
THE HERMIT.
The last rays of the setting sun shot through the sky in crimson
light, and were reflected back by the snows of Badari-natha [40]
and the sharp peaks of the Himálaya, while a soft south wind wafted
to the mountain tops the perfume of trees and flowers which all day
had hung over the valleys. For centuries and centuries had the rays
of the same sun lit up the same heights, and the perfume of flowers
had risen to the mountains, with no change and no disturbance; while
far in the distance men fought and struggled, mighty kingdoms rose
and fell, and thoughtful minds vainly sought the aim and reason of
the existence of the universe.
Towards the end of the sixteenth century of our era, when
Jelalu-dín-Muhammad, surnamed Akbar the Great, had raised the empire
of the Moghuls to the highest point of power and glory, the lofty
Himálaya, once the scarcely accessible abode of the Devas, [41] still
remained wild and inhospitable. These solitudes were scarcely ever
trodden by human foot, and seldom even did the cry of some passing
bird of prey, or the hum of dancing insects, break the intense and
almost audible silence.
Still the place was not so entirely deserted as a careless observer
might imagine. Nearly hidden in the long grass a tiger lay stretched
out, his coat flecked with black, dreaming in philosophical rest,
sometimes gazing upwards at the snow-crowned peaks, and then half
closing his eyes before the still vivid light. He looked down on the
lovely green valleys far below, stretching away until they met other
mountains rising into the clear sky, losing themselves and seeming
to melt and blend into the brilliant colours of the horizon. Of what
did he think? sometimes gazing upwards, sometimes looking down into
the depths below, perhaps in misty remembrance of the times when,
in another form, he reigned--a mighty rajah over luxurious Kashmir,
with vassals bowing before him and lovely women vieing with one another
for the honour of his notice. Or was, indeed, the royal beast nothing
more than a gigantic cat? a monster of the jungle? and not the lost
soul of some former proud and haughty ruler. He was now, in truth,
the king of the wilderness, where no rival dared to challenge his
rights. That he well knew his power, could be seen in the proud glance
he cast around him. But, suddenly waking from these day-dreams, he
sprang to his feet and listened. A noise, the sound of men's voices,
had fallen on his quick ear.
Though still at some little distance, a group of riders was descending
by the only accessible path in the mountains towards the valley. A
young and handsome man, whose proud carriage and rich clothing showed
that he was of noble birth, accompanied by another, older in years and
more gravely clad, and followed by two servants, formed the party. The
youth was mounted on a white Arab, small but powerfully built, and
of great speed. The older man rode a larger horse of dark colour,
while the servants bestrode rough but strong mountain ponies. The
youth wore a blue silk jacket ornamented with golden buttons, wide
trousers and red shoes, and a light cap with a long feather fastened by
a diamond. A short sabre hung at his side, and a jewelled dagger was
stuck into his richly ornamented girdle. In his right hand he held a
long spear. He was tall and well formed, and his complexion was fair,
being scarcely tanned by the sun's rays. His eyes and hair were dark,
and a brown moustache betokened, unmistakeably, that he sprang from
the Aryan race. His companion was a powerful, broad-shouldered man
of dark complexion, yet showing by his finely cut features that Aryan
blood also flowed through his veins. A thick curling beard nearly hid
his face, which was shaded by a white turban. His person was enveloped
in a long robe of dark but fine material, which reached nearly to his
feet, and was secured round his waist by a golden belt. He, also,
was armed with sabre and spear, and from his shoulder hung a small
round shield. The only clothing of the servants was a cloak thrown
round their dusky limbs, and many bright copper rings on their wrists
and ancles clanked against each other as they rode along. Short spears
and small shields were their only weapons.
It was easy to discover from their conversation who these travellers
were, whence they came, and the reason of their journey. The young
nobleman, Siddha [42] Rama [43], was the son of the First Minister
of Kashmir, entrusted by his father with important letters to the
court of the Emperor Akbar at Agra, where he was to take command of
a division of Rajput cavalry belonging to the imperial army. He was
accompanied by Kulluka, [44] his tutor, a Brahman of high descent,
a man of learning and a warrior, one who knew as well how to instruct
his pupil in the arts of war and martial exercises, as in the sacred
language with its classic and holy writings.
But before reaching Agra they had to visit a hermit in the mountains,
and then to make their way to Allahabad, where Siddha's uncle, in the
Emperor's name, commanded the fort at the junction of the Ganges and
Jamuna. There too was Iravati, his daughter, and the betrothed of
Siddha, counting the days to their coming and the meeting with her
future husband.
"But, honoured Kulluka," said Siddha, after having ridden for a time
silently by the side of his tutor, "you, who know the way, tell me
that we are close to the abode of Gurupada. [45] It may be so, but I
can see nothing that is at all like a cell. Is it possible that the
holy man has departed?"
"A little more patience," answered the Brahman, "and we shall soon
come to the turning, whence you will see the little wood in the valley
where Gurupada has built his solitary dwelling. But it seems to me
you might speak with more respect of one so venerable. You will,
however, learn that when you meet him."
"I intended no harm and no disrespect," rejoined Siddha. "But what
is that?" cried he, suddenly pointing with his spear towards the tall
grass on the mountain side, which was waving gently, though unstirred
by the wind.
Before his calmer companion could restrain him, the impatient hunter
had turned his horse into the long grass, and was hurrying towards
the spot where the movement had been seen. But before either Kulluka
or the servants could hasten after him, they saw him draw rein and
remain motionless, gazing before him.
All movement in the grass had ceased, not one blade stirred, and
not a sound was to be heard. Then again the grass moved and bent,
but much farther off, betraying the presence of a large glossy tiger
bounding away.
Siddha put spurs to his horse, and the next moment lay full length
on the ground. A hole, thickly covered with vegetation, had thrown
horse and rider. But both instantly recovered their footing.
"It is nothing, Vatsa," [46] he said to his servant, who had flung
himself from his pony and hurried to his master. "I have fallen softly
enough; nor, it is to be hoped, has any harm come to my horse."
On examination they found that the noble grey was as uninjured as
his headlong rider; but no sign of the tiger was any longer visible.
There was nothing left to be done but to spring into the saddle and
continue the interrupted journey.
Siddha rode silently by the side of his guru, not a little ashamed
of his foolish adventure, but the latter broke the silence by saying,
"That was but a childish trick, dear lad."
"Yes," replied Siddha, in a shamefaced tone, "I must have indeed
appeared ridiculous, rolling over in such a way."
"But," continued Kulluka, "that you could not help."
"No one can see concealed holes."
"What I mean is something quite different."
"What then?"
"That you will soon learn, if what I suspect is the case."
The smile that played round Kulluka's mouth at these words only
increased Siddha's curiosity; but his questions were interrupted
by their reaching a turn in the road where, spread out before them,
bathed in golden sunshine, lay another part of the valley.
"See there," said Kulluka, pointing with his lance to a thick clump of
trees below them, near which, like a silver thread, flowed a little
stream; "there lives Gurupada!" And, without more words, the riders
descended a steep declivity, following a path partly formed by nature
and partly by the labour of men, that led towards the plain.
Under the dense shade of trees stood a low building roofed with reeds,
and built with slight bamboos overgrown with creepers, more like some
resort of pleasure than the poor cell of a holy man passing his life
in penance. Behind was the dark jungle, in front an emerald lake,
reflecting back a hundred different tints, and bordered by blue and
white lotus flowers. The clear silver stream entered at one end and,
flowing out at the other side, continued its course to the lower
valleys just seen in the haze of the distance. Far away the ranges
of mountains rose like rocky giants to the heavens, their summits
never trodden by the foot of man.
For a moment our travellers remained still, lost in admiration of a
view at once so magnificent and so lovely. But quickly remembering
that they had reached the end of their journey, they dismounted and
entrusted the horses to their servants, while Kulluka advanced to
the dwelling, meaning to give notice of their arrival. But he might
have saved himself the trouble, for he had scarcely reached the door
when the hermit appeared in the threshold, followed by a servant who,
at a sign from his master, took charge of the visitors' horses.
Extraordinary was the impression which the sight of this recluse
made on Siddha. In his own country, among his mountains and forests,
he had seen penitents, self-denying holy men, wandering mendicants,
in numbers and of all kinds--some in foul and sordid rags, with long
bamboo staves in their hands and rosaries at their sides, some with
a cloth made of the bark of trees, others with no clothing, shaven,
and covered with ashes, their foreheads and breasts smeared with white
chalk: all supported by the strength of a boundless fanaticism. No
wonder that the young man, used to the most polished civilisation,
should have looked with the deepest contempt on such people; and in
spite of his respect for his tutor, who had always named the hermit
of Badrinath with veneration, he had expected but little from the
man who now stood ready at his door to receive them. All the greater
was the impression now made upon him by the tall and stately figure
advancing to them, with dignity but at the same time with an air of
friendly welcome.
He was an old man, in a dazzling white garment, with a few fine
locks on the otherwise bald head, and a heavy silvery beard, but
not in the least bent by the weight of years. His friendly though
proud expression showed plainly that he had been accustomed to give,
rather than to receive and obey, commands.
"You are welcome friends," he said, taking his two visitors by the
hand, who bent respectfully before him. "Welcome to my solitude. It
is indeed a pleasure to hear again of"--here he seemed to hesitate,
but proceeded in a firm voice, "of you and my country and people."
Before either Kulluka and Siddha could reply, their attention was
drawn to a low growl close to them, and in another instant, from
behind the building, a magnificent tiger appeared with slow and
stately tread, and drew near the three men, waving its heavy tail
from side to side. Instantly Siddha drew back a step, and laid his
hand on the dagger in his belt.
"Leave that plaything in its place," said Gurupada, laughing. "Do
not injure Hara." [47] Then, turning to the tiger, he called him in a
commanding tone, and instantly the powerful animal laid himself down
at his master's feet.
"Did I not tell you?" said Kulluka to Siddha, pointing to the
tiger. "Do you now understand why it was a foolish trick you played?"
"Pardon, honoured lord, pardon!" said Siddha, turning with clasped
hands to Gurupada, understanding that it was the tiger of the hermit
that he had given chase to. "Indeed I did not know."
"I understand," interrupted Gurupada, "you have been hunting Hara. That
has happened before, but has not always ended so well for the hunter
as for my four-footed friend here. For he can become angry, though he
has never harmed those who leave him alone. I have had him, as Kulluka
knows, ever since he was a small cub, and we are now well accustomed
to each other. Is it not so, Hara?" he said, bending towards the
tiger, that, half raising itself up, rubbed its broad head against
its master's hand. "And my friends," continued he, "are also his. See
now!" And Siddha, drawing near, laid his hand gently on its shoulder,
on which the tiger, looking alternately at both, laid down at Siddha's
feet, and leant its head against his hand. This time the young man did
not step back, but stroked the animal's head; nor was he startled when,
yawning, it opened its mighty jaws, showing rows of white sharp teeth.
"That is right," said Gurupada, as Hara returned to him. "I have
seen many older than you who would not have remained so calm. But
now let us think of other things. Travellers, after so long a journey
through a wilderness where there is not much to be found, must need
refreshment. Follow me." And, going before them, the hermit entered
his dwelling.
The interior contained nothing beyond necessaries, but all in most
perfect order, and arranged with elegance.
After the guests had rested themselves with him, on fine mats spread on
the floor, the servant, who had taken charge of the horses, brought
in some dishes of food.
The simple and easy tone in which the otherwise dignified hermit spoke,
showed that he was a man of the world, and soon gave confidence to
the Minister's son. Siddha answered Gurupada's questions respecting
his father, his betrothed Iravati, and his life in Kashmir, with
frankness mingled with respect. To his astonishment the hermit
appeared to know all that had happened in earlier days in Kashmir,
and showed himself acquainted with circumstances that must have been
a secret to all excepting those who had access to the most private
parts of the royal palace. Without doubt, in earlier years, Gurupada
must have been a trusted councillor of one of the princes. But
Siddha dared venture no indiscreet questions touching the hermit's
former rank. He remarked that Gurupada's conversation was cheerful,
and that he appeared perfectly content with his present station. Yet
at times, in talking over political events in the north, a dark cloud
momentarily crossed his noble countenance, as though the strong will of
the philosopher could not hinder a passing emotion from being visible.
It had become late, and night was drawing on, the moon throwing
her silvery light over the landscape which was visible through the
open bamboos.
"Now," said Gurupada, rising, "pardon me, noble Siddha, if with your
tutor and my friend I withdraw from the pleasure of your company. I
have much to say to him which for the present must be a secret, and
in which you probably would have but little interest. If you wish
to refresh yourself there is the lake, and to a bath in the open air
you are doubtless well accustomed."
The two elder men left the room together, and for long after Siddha saw
them arm-in-arm, walking up and down, deep in earnest converse. When
they returned it was time to go to rest, and the travellers were well
pleased to stretch their weary limbs on the sleeping-places prepared
for them.
Early the next morning, after a fresh bath and hearty breakfast,
our travellers were ready to continue their journey. While the horses
were being saddled, Gurupada drew Siddha on one side, out of hearing
of Kulluka, and said--
"Holy hermits, when young men visit them, are not accustomed to let
them depart without some instruction and advice. You expect, perhaps,
the same from me; but you are mistaken. I can add nothing to what
Kulluka, your wise and learned guru has doubtless already taught
you. The world you are going to seek, and life itself, must teach you
what remains. Still, one word, to which I will add a request. Do not
fear, when you enter the luxurious and magnificent court at Agra, to
take your part in all lawful diversions and amusements; and thus you
will learn to distinguish the real from the unreal. Think always of
what doubtless your tutor has often taught you, keep your conscience
pure, and take good care that no deed of yours shall ever give cause
of shame either to others or to yourself. But should it happen that,
in spite of your earnest striving to keep these precepts, the repose
of your conscience should be disturbed, and you wish for some friend
to whom you could open your heart, think then of an old friend of your
father and your tutor, and come to the Hermit of Badrinath. Will you
promise me this?"
"I promise it," answered Siddha, simply, but with manly earnestness,
as he folded his arms respectfully on his breast. With greater
friendliness than before, Gurupada took him by both hands, and pressed
them heartily.
The horses were soon brought forward, and the riders, after taking
leave of the hermit, sprang into their saddles, and, followed by the
servants, took their way from the jungle to the mountain path.
More than once Siddha looked back, casting a glance to where the figure
of the wise man was still visible between the trunks of the tall trees,
standing at the threshold of his dwelling, with the tiger by his side,
and then rode silently by his companion, buried in thought.
Suddenly, as though waking from a day-dream, he drew in his horse
with such force as almost to throw it upon its haunches.
"Kulluka," he exclaimed, "I never saw such a man as Gurupada." But at
the same time he coloured to the ears, thinking, but too late, that
this exclamation might not be very pleasing to his friend and teacher.
But he had needlessly alarmed himself. Kulluka's countenance expressed
unfeigned pleasure at the admiration of his pupil for his old friend.
"Indeed," he said, "it gives me great pleasure that you should so
think of him, and it speaks well for you."
"But," Siddha said, after a moment of silence, "who then is Gurupada?"
"Well," was the answer, "that you have seen for yourself--a hermit
of the Himálaya."
"Yes," replied Siddha, impatiently, "that I know well; but what was
he first, before he came here and tamed tigers?"
"He attempted to tame men," answered Kulluka, "but in that he did
not always succeed. But why did you not ask him yourself who he was?"
"Would that have been discreet,--should you have approved of that?"
"Certainly not, and you acted rightly in not violating the rights
of hospitality by indiscreet curiosity, even if it arose from real
interest and for that you deserve that your curiosity should be set
at rest. Gurupada gave me permission to recount his former life and
tell you his name. So listen!
"He was once a king."
"How now," said Siddha, a little disturbed, "are you going to tell
me a tale from Somadeva, [48] like those I heard so often from you
when I was a little boy?"
"Listen or not, as you will, to my tale," answered Kulluka, calmly. "He
was, I say, once a king, who, supported by good councillors, governed
his kingdom with wisdom and prudence. He had no children, only a
younger brother, a young man of great ability, to whom he was warmly
attached, and whom he had chosen as his successor when death should
take him, or when the weight of affairs of state should become too
heavy for him to bear. But the brother was ambitious, and, in spite of
some good qualities, he had not patience to wait his time. He allowed
himself to be led away by parties in the state inimical to the existing
government. First he intrigued secretly, and in the end he took up
arms against his brother and lawful prince. But he and his followers
were defeated, and brought prisoners to the capital. However, this
did not put an end to the insurrection. Disturbances still continued,
and the only means that remained to the king to suppress them was
by the death of his ambitious and dangerous brother, however dearly
he loved him, and by subjecting his followers to the same fate. But
by so doing his throne would be founded on the blood of his brother
and others; which might call endless feuds into life, to which there
could be no other end but the utter exhaustion of the kingdom. Yet
hardly anyone doubted that the king would, in the end, have recourse
to this now unavoidable measure. Suddenly, a rumour spread that he
had disappeared from the palace, and in all probability, though
not certainly, had fallen a victim to treachery. Since that time
he has never been heard of, and his brother, released from prison,
ascended the throne as the lawful heir, and has reigned ever since,
wisely retaining his brother's councillors at his side. Though not
ruling with equal wisdom, yet his reign has been fortunate, and peace
has been restored to his country."
Here, for a moment, Kulluka broke off his tale to look at his
companion and pupil, but his countenance showed neither astonishment
nor special interest.
"What you tell me," he said, "is simply the history of our present
king and his predecessor and elder brother Nandigupta, [49] which is
known to all, to me as well as to every other Kashmiri."
"Certainly," replied Kulluka, "the history of which I remind you is
well known. What is not known to every one, only to a few, is that
King Nandigupta did not fall through treachery, is not dead, nor was
he driven away. Of his own accord, and without the knowledge of his
brother, nor of any but a few most trusty friends, he took refuge
in a distant retreat, where by spreading a report that he had been
slain, he saved his brother from a shameful death and his country
from probable destruction."
"And so Nandigupta still lives," cried Siddha, "and he is----"
"As you doubtless have already guessed," answered Kulluka, "the hermit
we have just left; but you must hold his secret sacred. The secret
of his kingdom and his race is entrusted to your honour. The son of
his most faithful servant and friend should know it, and will know
well how to guard it."
"Why," asked Siddha, half dissatisfied, "did you not tell me this while
we were still there? I might then have thanked the prince for all the
benefits which, in the days of his greatness, my father and all our
race received at his hands. But, it is true, you had no right to speak
as long as he himself did not do so. But I still have an opportunity;
for Gurupada, if he will be so called, made me promise to seek him
if ever I should find myself in circumstances of difficulty and need
good advice."
"And you have done well in giving your promise," said Kulluka. "Keep
your word. Gurupada is better and wiser than any of us."
But Siddha scarcely heard. He was again immersed in thought. The
meeting with the hermit, and the discovery of his secret, made a deep
impression on him: that in the beginning of his journey he should have
met with a princely philosopher, who, possessing almost unlimited
power, and living in luxury, had willingly sacrificed all for love
of his brother and his country; and who, happy in the consciousness
of having done well, showed himself cheerful and contented with
his simple life in the wilderness, with no other companions than
a faithful servant and a beast of prey. Now he was on his road to
the court of the fortunate and far-famed ruler of a great empire,
who ruled his people more by wisdom than by the power of the sword;
who had at his disposal enormous revenues; and who might call himself
the ally of mighty princes in most distant countries, and protector
of all known religions in the world.
The good Siddha, who had been accustomed to pride himself somewhat
on his nobility and consequence, suddenly felt how small he was in
comparison with two such men. It was indeed difficult to decide which
was the greater of the two, and he wisely determined to suspend his
judgment until he should have seen the Emperor Akbar himself.
This decision brought him back to the next goal of their journey,
a visit to Allahabad, where his dearly loved bride--the beautiful
Iravati--awaited his coming. His countenance, which for some minutes
had been grave and earnest, brightened up, and striking spurs into
his horse, as a long flat piece of country stretched out before them,
he cried, joyfully, "Come, now for a gallop!" and darting forward,
Kulluka saw brandishing his light spear, and shouting the name that
carried off the victory in his thoughts--"Iravati!"
"Forward! forward, then!" muttered the Brahman to himself, setting his
horse to a gallop, "until the end is reached; for me it is almost done,
but for him the journey of life is only beginning. Oh that he may
always find it smooth as this! but he also must meet with rocks and
slippery precipices, and perhaps also--abysses. But may they only,"
he added, smiling to himself, as he thought of the adventure of the
preceding evening, "be harmless precipices."