THE WEIGHING OF THE EMPEROR.
What a bustle was there in the thronged bazar as Siddha, in the
morning, wandered through the busy rows of shops, on which were
spread out in rich abundance everything that could tempt the eye and
purse. And what a strange and wonderful mingling of various peoples
and races, the different representatives of which jostled against and
crossed each other's paths without betraying any surprise, so well
accustomed were they to the sight. Here the natives of the land,
Hindus of more or less pale complexions, their servants of various
bronzed shades; there, too, the proud ruling races--Persians, Arabs,
and Tatars, Armenians and Jews from the west, and also sons of the
Celestial Kingdom, with their long tails and wide flowered robes;
and there men who especially struck Siddha, as he had never before
seen their like, men most strangely clad, with pointed, broad-brimmed
hats decorated with feathers, short doublets, wide velvet trousers,
and high boots, and with long, straight swords hanging from coloured
shoulder-belts. They were in company of the spiritual Fathers, one
of whom but a short time since, had been admitted to the presence of
the Emperor.
Among all this throng many had come to make their own purchases, others
only to wander and contemplatingly watch the bustling crowd. Numbers
of women, of many nations and classes, were also to be seen, some
in the costume of the people, simple, but graceful and pleasing;
others in coloured and gaudy Persian attire, and some closely veiled,
according to the strict Muhammadan law, and showing nothing human
excepting a pair of red-slippered feet, and a pair of dark eyes
that glittered through round holes in the upper veil that enveloped
everything. Some were busied with household purchases, others with
the acquisition of useful knick-knacks.
Just as Siddha was about to inquire from some of the passers-by who
the strange men were, he saw his friend and benefactor Faizi approach,
and addressed his question to him.
"They are Franks," was the answer, "called Portuguese; they come from
far-away countries in the West, for the sake of commerce; and those
with them have come to try and convert us to what they say is the
only religion which can save souls."
"And those two," asked Siddha, "coming from the other side? do
they belong to them? They wear nearly the same clothing, but their
companions appear to me fairer, and how red their beards are!"
"They are also Franks," answered Faizi, "though not quite the same
as the others. They are English, [85] who seek to drive out the
Portuguese, but with little success; however, they are well received
by our Emperor and our great people."
A few years later, Faizi would have been able to point out others
among these visitors from the West, who, though also included under
the name of Franks, yet were quite different. He could have pointed
to the robust and somewhat plump figures and good-humoured faces of
Hollander and Zeelander, who, under Pieter van der Broeche, [86] came
to seek their own fortunes and those of their masters the Directors
of the East India Company. For long years they were considered both
by English and Portuguese as their most formidable rivals in the
markets of Hindustan, and as men who knew how to sustain the fame of
the flag of the Netherlands in the Indian waters against the Gijs,
or "Gijsooms" as they mockingly, though not very grammatically,
named their arch enemies. But their time was not then come.
As the two Englishmen passed by, Siddha looked at them with a curiosity
which, though perhaps natural, at first seeing such strangers, yet
was far from courteous; but Siddha felt--although he had heard nothing
of these people--very little respect for them, and even Faizi seemed
to consider them hardly worthy of a glance.
"Cursed proud Moors!" muttered one of these sons of Albion in his
own tongue as he passed. Had these men, the haughty Indians and
half-despised English, been able to cast one single look into the
future, and could the former have guessed that the descendants of the
latter would one day rule over their people and country, they would
certainly have observed them with more attention. With still closer
interest would they have gazed, if anyone had told them that these
strangers sprang from the same race, and stood nearer to Siddha than
many of his friends whose origin was from the Semitic race.
"The visits of all these strangers," said Faizi, "do us no harm; on the
contrary they give fresh impulse to our trade and various industries;
and from them also we have many good painters and other artists. Then
we have learnt much from them respecting their own countries. Still
they must not attempt to play the master here, which appears to be
rather according to their tastes."
"Then surely we should show them the door," said Siddha.
"That would soon happen, I can assure you. But now for another
subject. Have you tried my bay that we spoke of the other day?"
"Indeed I have," answered Siddha, "and with the greatest pleasure;
it is a magnificent animal." And he broke out with praises of Faizi's
horse.
"You are pleased with him, then?" he answered. "I will send him to your
stables; you can keep him if you will; and in the coming campaign he
will be of use to you. Your grey is a beautiful horse and well broke,
but scarcely strong enough; and the bay is uncommonly so. I ride him
but seldom, for I must confess I have become rather lazy and prefer
a quieter animal."
"But," said Siddha, overcome at such goodness, "this is indeed a
costly present, which I have not deserved. Your bay is a splendid
thoroughbred Arab, such as I have never before ridden."
"When I offer my friends anything it ought to be worth having," said
Faizi. "Now I want to tell you of something else: about a meeting
that took place yesterday evening at the palace, and at which I
wish you had been present. In spite of state troubles that again
overwhelm the Emperor, he found both time and inclination to hold
one of his philosophical and theological gatherings, for which,
just now, there is an opportunity, as the Christian missionaries
from Goa are again here. Yesterday a number of Ulamas and Mullahs
were assembled in one of the great halls of the palace. Among them
naturally Abdul Kadir appeared; then there were the Jesuits, a Jew,
and a Parsee, and your former tutor Kulluka, who has returned here,
and whom doubtless you have already greeted; my brother Abú-l Fazl
was also present, and I also had that honour, and took for my part in
the course of the discussion your ancient atheistical philosophy of
nature. Akbar himself inclined a little my way, while Kulluka defended
the orthodox Brahmanical Vedanta, [87] and Abú-l Fazl the ordinary
human ground. Kulluka detected him now and then in Buddhistic heresies,
but let them pass, saying there was no Buddhist present to defend his
creed. You know there are some here, but none fit to take part in these
discussions. The Emperor scarcely took any part in what went on, but
only listened; and perhaps the most remarkable part of these discourses
was their conclusion. Nothing could be better ordered or more courteous
than the beginning; our Mullahs, calm and grave, saying but little;
nothing could be more gentle than the Padres, piping as sweetly as
bird-catchers; the Jew, a follower of Maimonides, [88] was the same,
but very silent, and not quite at his ease; the Parsee was poetical
and not always very intelligible; and as for us, we every now and then
threw in some problem or argument, gathered from the philosophers of
old days, or that we had learnt from the Arabs or Persians, and which
did not appear to be quite to the tastes of the disputants. By degrees
they began to grow warm, and from arguments proceeded to assertions,
and from assertions to hard words, especially between the Muhammadans
and Jesuits, though on the whole we were not spared; and in the end
there was shouting, cursing, and noise, in spite of the presence of the
Emperor, enough to deafen us. In all this the Mullahs were foremost,
who, as you understand, consider themselves as the most injured. Akbar
sat watching this foolish scene, not without secret satisfaction, and
glanced every now and then at me with a smile; but at last it became
too much for him, and he saw that in his presence it was not fitting
such a spectacle should continue. 'Faizi,' said he, signing to me,
'have the door opened to these people, as they no longer know how to
conduct themselves. I gave them the fullest opportunity for defending
their various religious theories against each other, in order that I
might decide who had the best grounds for his opinions; and what have
they done? Each has endeavoured to outdo his neighbour in shouting and
cursing; nothing else. Let there be an end of it.' 'Sire,' I answered,
'we had better send them all away; if two only should remain, there
will be no end to the strife.' Akbar laughed, but rising from the
seat where he had calmly remained all through the storm, he said,
in his powerful voice, which at once enforced silence on all around,
'We thank you, gentlemen, for the pleasant evening we have passed,
due to your kindness and interesting discussions. We hope for another
such interview before long, but the present one is closed,' and with
a sign of his hand he dismissed them. The greater part withdrew,
grumbling. Oh, Siddha, how foolish men are thus to curse and hate each
other for the sake of abstract problems, of which they know nothing,
and which, even if they did, would not advance them one single step
in the practice of what honour and duty enjoin!"
"I quite agree with you; and to follow the two last are often hard
enough," answered Siddha, with a sigh, knowing far more of the
difficulties of which he spoke than the other suspected.
"But now tell me," said Faizi, "how it comes that you are here;
I thought that you, with your men, were already on your way to join
the camp."
"We had started," said Siddha, "but received counter-orders on the
road. We are to remain some days longer at Agra, to my great pleasure,
as it gives me the opportunity of being present at the great festival
of to-day, which celebrates the Emperor's birthday, of which I have
heard so much."
That there was another reason for rejoicing at a longer delay in Agra,
Siddha did not think it necessary to add.
"That reminds me," said Faizi, "it is time to go to the palace before
the durbar. The Emperor receives, as you know, the foreign ambassadors
to-day. Come with me, and you can take your place among the officers
of your rank."
Although Siddha had been more than once present at a durbar, yet as
with Faizi he entered the great throne-hall, where the Emperor had
already taken his place, the impression made upon him was almost
as great as on the first occasion. He looked with admiration at
the splendid white marble columns and walls inlaid with beautiful
mosaics, delicate arches, with silk and velvet curtains falling in
rich folds. He was much struck by the great assembly, which was larger
and more splendid than any he had yet seen. At one end of the hall,
lit by a softened light from above, was the Great Mughal, seated on
a throne sparkling with precious stones; on both sides, standing in
long ranks, were the Umara, [89] the ministers, generals, and nobles
of high rank, and then ambassadors from neighbouring countries in
their various costumes, among them the two Jesuits; and at the end
the lesser officials and officers, amongst whom Siddha, according to
his rank, had taken his place.
The chief part of the ceremony was the exchange of presents. The
ambassadors and others approached the Emperor in their turn. On
reaching the throne they raised their right hands to their foreheads
and bowed their heads before the Emperor, then placed their presents,
consisting chiefly of costly objects of art, by the side of the step on
which the throne was raised, and in their turn they received presents
on behalf of the Emperor. Aquaviva also drew near the Mughal, bearing a
splendidly bound Latin Bible, which, according to custom, he was about
to lay down; but Akbar, rising from his throne, advanced a step or two,
and took the book from the hands of the missionary. "We thank you,
worthy Father," he said, "for this kindly thought, and trust that what
we have to offer will not be less welcome to you," and taking from the
hands of a Brahman standing by his side a voluminous and beautifully
ornamented manuscript, he presented it to the Jesuit, saying, "This
is a copy of the 'Atharva-Veda,' [90] one of the most ancient of our
holy books of India; it is accompanied by a Persian translation."
With deep respect Aquaviva received the imperial gift, though one
might question whether in truth he was much pleased, and if he did
not see in it some allusion to the meeting of the preceding evening;
which was the more probable as the Emperor was always informed
beforehand what presents were to be made him, that the return
might be appropriate. But whatever the Padre thought, it was not
difficult to guess what impression this affair made on the orthodox
Brahmans. There was a frown on almost every forehead in their ranks,
and Abdul Kadir could scarcely restrain his indignation. They could not
read the meaning of the return present, and how by it Akbar wished to
show that he took no part with the Christians. All they saw was the
special honour shown to a Christian. Abú-l Fazl, who understood it
better, nevertheless shook his head, vexed at the needless defiance
and insult to the Muhammadans offered by the (in other respects)
humane and wise Akbar; still he confessed that they almost deserved
it for their unmanly conduct of the previous evening.
After the ceremonial of the reception of presents was over, the Mughal
was for some time occupied with giving audiences and appointments;
among others our Siddha was called to him.
"Siddha Rama," he said, "with good reason we are content with you,
and, to prove it, we name you from to-day Mansabdar over a thousand;
show yourself always worthy of our trust and favour."
A deep colour mounted to Siddha's face, as silently, according to the
usage, he bent his head before the Emperor, in token of his gratitude
for this fresh favour. He worthy of Akbar's confidence! Could there
be one in the army that deserved it less? Yet the Emperor had need of
his interest and assistance in Kashmir, so that it was not generosity
and kindness alone which led to this promotion. Akbar only saw in the
confusion of the young warrior an easily explained and praiseworthy
modesty at finding himself so openly laden with favours, and nodded
to him kindly as he signed to him that he might withdraw.
It was now almost time that the people's feast should begin, and for
it was destined a field not far from the town. Towards it was now
streaming from all the streets and along all the roads a brilliantly
coloured throng, some on foot, some riding either on horses or richly
caparisoned elephants; some, too, were on camels laden with eatables
and refreshments of all kinds for the many that cared to take part
in the rejoicings. Mingling in the merry crowd were Siddha and his
friend Parviz, whom he had met on leaving the palace, and who had
heartily congratulated him on his new command.
"And you," said Siddha, "how go your affairs?"
"You mean my own private ones, do you not?" answered the other,
laughing. "On the whole they go on well. Lately I have several
times seen her to whom my heart belongs; and, though of course it
was in secret, yet I have reasons for suspecting her father, Todar
Mal, [91] knew all about it, although he gave himself the airs of
knowing nothing. I believe my uncle Faizi has something to do with
this favourable change in affairs. 'May Allah bless him!' as the
pious Abdul Kadir would say." And here the good Parviz wandered off
into a stream of praises of the beauty and virtues of her he loved,
which, deeply interesting to him, was not quite so much so for his
hearer. However this might be, the one subject occupied the two
friends until they reached the spot where the festival was to be
held. Here the view was as full of life as that of the court had been,
but far fuller of mirth and merriment. Endless numbers moved in lightly
coloured groups over the great undulating plain where countless tents,
great and small, were pitched. Above all, the elephants with their
dark bodies, bright-coloured cloths, and richly ornamented haudas,
contrasted picturesquely with the riders and those on foot. The
imperial elephants were decorated with golden breast and head plates,
set with large smaragds; and their gigantic bodies bore a treasure
enough to make the fortune of any simple burgher. On one of these
the Mughal himself was seated, and dismounting in a circle of his
courtiers, and followed by them, repaired to the spot where the great
ceremony of the day was to be celebrated. This ceremonial deserves
attention, so strange and impressive was it. Many have endeavoured
in different ways to explain what it betokened, but the true meaning
has hitherto escaped all historians. [92]
On a little height was erected a large and strong pair of scales, large
enough easily to hold a man. One scale was heaped with gold, silver,
and precious stones, while the other stood empty, high in the air. On
this the Emperor now took his place, in sight of hundreds and thousands
of his subjects, who crowded round from all sides; and the other scale
was added to or taken from until it exactly balanced the illustrious
person of the Great Mughal, who well held his own against the precious
metal. It was a pity that other things could not be laid in the scale,
such as duty, honour, faith, and enthusiasm for all that is good and
beautiful; then surely Akbar would not have been found wanting in the
balance. When the weighing was over he stept calmly from the scales,
and the gold and silver were distributed amongst the crowd. Towards
the end the Emperor mixed among those around him, throwing among the
bystanders small golden objects in the form of flowers and fruits,
addressing here and there kind and friendly words--confirming many
afresh in their conviction that in Akbar the people had not only a
great and powerful, but also a benevolent ruler, to whose heart the
well-being of his subjects was dearer than his own greatness.
After the grave ceremonies of the day were over, the real festivities
began, and every kind of diversion occupied the numberless
visitors. Here the jugglers and conjurors displayed their foolish
art, and performed feats of strength; there dancers to the sound of
monotonous music, and with slow movements, performed their dances;
and further on, horsemen at full gallop lifted rings from the
ground at the end of their long lances. On one spot was a wonderful
and horrible exhibition of two of those beings peculiar to India,
who think they combine a religious act with self-torture. They were
suspended twenty feet above the ground by means of an iron hook driven
into their backs and hung by a rope to a cross-beam. [93] Here, where
such a sight was rare, it excited great attention, and Parviz stood
gazing at it with interest, very different from Siddha's indifference,
who was well accustomed to such spectacles.
"What can possess the people?" said Parviz to his friend. "It is
said they do this prompted by religious fervour; but if so, why
do they choose a day of public rejoicing and festivity to exhibit
themselves? It is not a pleasant sight, but I cannot understand how
it is they appear so at their ease, and so free from pain."
"Perhaps I can explain it to you," said Siddha. "You know that such
tortures as we are now looking at are considered by our fanatics
as meritorious actions, by which heaven may be gained; and those
that gaze upon these martyrs, and give them money, participate in
the merit; and the more superstitious the people are, so much the
greater are the gains. But the secret of their art is not known with
certainty, although I believe there are grounds for suspecting how it
is done. If I am not deceived, they are always accompanied by women,
although they are never seen with them, and these for about half a
day before an exhibition pinch them between the shoulder-blades until
the spot is without feeling, and the hook can be inserted without
causing them any pain."
"A wonderful kind of pleasantry," remarked Parviz.
"Yes, and a wretched one, too. Whatever support it receives from
superstition, by respectable Brahmans it is only looked upon with
contempt. But did you not say there were to be elephant and wild
beast fights?"
"Certainly, and by yonder flag I see they are about to begin; let us
make our way there and find a place."
This was not difficult, for their rank gave them instant admission
to the space railed off, and provided with seats, where the combats
were to take place. In the midst the Emperor was seated surrounded
by his courtiers. They had not waited long when from the opposite
sides the fighting elephants entered the arena, each covered with
a splendid cloth, and mounted by a brightly dressed mahout. Very
little preparation was necessary. No sooner did the gigantic animals
approach each other, than, rising on their hind legs with a snort,
they seized each other with their trunks, each endeavouring to stab
his foe with his long tusks, while their riders, now clinging by their
knees behind the creatures' ears, and now holding by their hands to
the girth of the cloth, still kept their places. For some time the
fight continued with uncertain fortune; now one elephant was driven
backwards, and now the other. At last one was overthrown. His mahout
leaping nimbly to the ground alighted on his feet, and the rider of
the victor struck his hook into the constantly kept open wound behind
the ears, and forced him to draw back without injuring his fallen
foe. The Emperor applauded loudly, his example being followed by the
courtiers and spectators, and then they slowly left the tribunes.
"Akbar seems to have a great liking for these combats," said Siddha
to his friend, as they continued their walk.
"Yes," was the answer; "Akbar likes everything that displays courage
and dexterity, whether in man or beast. As you know, he is of unusual
strength himself, and unsurpassed by any in the use of arms; and his
personal courage in war and hunting is of that description that one
might call recklessness. He seems to seek danger instead of avoiding
it, and his generals and hunting comrades have at times enough to do
with him when his blood is up. You must have heard of his adventures;
certainly some are exaggerated, but you can trust to Faizi, who has
been present at many, and who will tell you about them some day."
Thus talking they wandered on, and at last having seen all they
wished, turned towards the city. Suddenly Siddha stood still, struck
with astonishment: his eye had accidentally fallen on the hauda of a
magnificently caparisoned elephant, and the lady he there saw, with one
or two others leaning back on the silken cushions, could be no other
than Rezia! Her thin veil fastened with diamonds had been pushed on
one side, there could be no mistake, and there by her side was the
well-known servant. But what was she doing here, she who lived in
solitude, carefully hidden from all eyes--just at this moment, too,
when she believed that Siddha had marched with the army! Could she
have deceived him? could she be other than she had told him?
As calmly and indifferently as was possible, he asked his companion,
pointing to Rezia, who had not seen him among the foot passengers--"Do
you know that lady?"
"She with the veil thrown back, and a servant holding a fan of peacock
feathers?" asked Parviz. "Certainly I know her, and I wonder that
you do not; however, of late she has shown herself but seldom. She
is"--and here Parviz named a name which gave our friend such a shock as
never before in his whole life he had experienced; and he felt as if,
standing on the brink of a precipice amongst his northern mountains,
he had been seized with a sudden dizziness and fallen into the abyss
beneath. "She is," said Parviz, "a lady of whom, at any rate, you
must have heard--Gulbadan, [94] Faizi's wife."