of the young Râjâ, or, as he is called, the young Rânâ, a lad of
about fifteen years of age, very plain, and very dull. He came about
ten in the forenoon with a very respectable and well-dressed retinue,
and a tolerable show of elephants and horses. The uniforms of his
guards were made after those of our own soldiers, and did not please
me half so much as those of the Datiyâ guards, who were permitted to
consult their own tastes; and the music of the drums and fifes seemed
to me infinitely inferior to that of the mounted minstrels of my old
friend Parîchhit.[9] The lad had with him about a dozen old public
servants entitled to chairs, some of whom had served his father above
thirty years; while the ancestors of others had served his
grandfathers and great-grandfathers, and I could not help telling the
lad in their presence that 'these were the greatest ornament of a
prince's throne and the best signs and pledges of a good government'.
They were all evidently much pleased at the compliment, and I thought
they deserved to be pleased, from the good character they bore among
the peasantry of the country. I mentioned that I had understood the
boatmen of the Chambal at Dhôlpur never caught or ate fish. The lad
seemed embarrassed, and the minister took upon himself to reply that
'there was no market for it, since the Hindoos of Dhôlpur never ate
fish, and the Muhammadans had all disappeared'. I asked the lad
whether he was fond of hunting. He seemed again confounded, and the
minister said that 'his highness never either hunted or fished, as
people of his caste were prohibited from destroying life'. 'And yet',
said I, 'they have often showed themselves good soldiers in battle.'
They were all pleased again, and said that they were not prohibited
from killing tigers; but that there was no jungle of any kind near
Dhôlpur, and, consequently, no tigers to be found. The Jâts are
descendants of the Getae, and were people of very low caste, or
rather of no caste at all, among the Hindoos, and they are now trying
to raise themselves by abstaining from killing and eating
animals.[10] Among Hindoos this is everything; a man of low caste is
'_sab kuchh khâtâ_', sticks at nothing in the way of eating; and a
man of high caste is a man who abstains from eating anything but
vegetable or farinaceous food; if, at the same time, he abstains from
using in his cook-room all woods but one, and has that one washed
before he uses it, he is canonized.[11] Having attained to military
renown and territorial dominion in the usual way by robbery, the Jâts
naturally enough seek the distinction of high caste to enable them
the better to enjoy their position in society.
It had been stipulated that I should walk to the bottom of the steps
to receive the Rânâ, as is the usage on such occasions, and carpets
were accordingly spread thus far. Here he got out of his chair, and I
led him into the large room of the bungalow, which we occupied during
our stay, followed by all his and my attendants. The bungalow had
been built by the former Resident at Gwâlior, the Honourable R.
Cavendish, for his residence during the latter part of the rains,
when Gwâlior is considered to be unhealthy. At his departure the Rânâ
purchased this bungalow for the use of European gentlemen and ladies
passing through his capital.
In the afternoon, about four o'clock, I went to return his visit in a
small palace not yet finished, a pretty piece of miniature
fortification, surrounded by what they call their 'chhâonî', or
cantonments. The streets are good, and the buildings neat and
substantial; but there is nothing to strike or particularly interest
the stranger. The interview passed off without anything remarkable;
and I was more than ever pleased with the people by whom this young
chief is surrounded. Indeed, I had much reason to be pleased with the
manners of all the people on this side of the Chambal. They are those
of a people well pleased to see English gentlemen among them, and
anxious to make themselves useful and agreeable to us. They know that
their chief is indebted to the British Government for all the country
he has, and that he would be swallowed up by Sindhia's greedy army,
were not the sevenfold shield of the Honourable Company spread over
him. His establishments, civil and military, like those of the
Bundêlkhand chiefs, are raised from the peasantry and yeomanry or the
country; who all, in consequence, feel an interest in the prosperity
and independent respectability of their chief. On the Gwâlior side,
the members of all the public establishments know and feel that it is
we who interpose and prevent their master from swallowing up all his
neighbours, and thereby having increased means of promoting their
interest and that of their friends; and they detest us all most
cordially in consequence. The peasantry of the Gwâlior territory seem
to consider their own government as a kind of minotaur, which they
would be glad to see destroyed, no matter how or by whom; since it
gives no lucrative or honourable employment to any of their members,
so as to interest either their pride or their affections; nor throws
back among them for purposes of local advantage any of the produce of
their land and labour which it exacts. It is worthy of remark that,
though the Dhôlpur chief is peculiarly the creature of the British
Government, and indebted to it for all he has or ever will have, and
though he has never had anything, and never can have, or can hope to
have, anything from the poor pageant of the house of Tîmûr, who now
sits upon the throne of Delhi;[12] yet, on his seal of office he
declares himself to be the slave and creature of that imperial
'warrior for the faith of Islam'. As he abstains from eating the good
fish of the river Chambal to enhance his claim to caste among
Hindoos, so he abstains from acknowledging his deep debt of gratitude
to the Honourable Company, or the British Government, with a view to
give the rust of age to his rank and title. To acknowledge himself a
creature of the British Government were to acknowledge that he was a
man of yesterday; to acknowledge himself the slave of the Emperor is
to claim for his poor veins 'the blood of a line of kings'. The petty
chiefs of Bundêlkhand, who are in the same manner especially
dependent on the British Government, do the same thing.
At Dhôlpur, there are some noble old mosques and mausoleums built
three hundred years ago, in the reign of the Emperor Humâyûn, by some
great officers of his government, whose remains still rest
undisturbed among them, though the names of their families have been
for many ages forgotten, and no men of their creed now live near to
demand for them the respect of the living. These tombs are all
elaborately built and worked out of the fine freestone of the country
and the trellis-work upon some of their stone screens is still as
beautiful as when first made. There are Persian and Arabic
inscriptions upon all of them, and I found from them that one of the
mosques had been built by the Emperor Shâh Jahân in A.D. 1634,[13]
when he little dreamed that his three sons would here meet to fight
the great fight for the throne while he yet sat upon it.[14]
Notes:
1. December, 1835.
2. The author's remark that in India the roads are 'nowhere metalled'
must seem hardly credible to a modern traveller, who sees the country
intersected by thousands of miles of metalled road. The Grand Trunk
Road from Calcutta to Lahore, constructed in Lord Dalhousie's time,
alone measures about 1,200 miles. The development of roads since 1850
ha been enormous, and yet the mileage of good roads would have to be
increased tenfold to put India on an equality with the more advanced
countries of Europe.
3. _Ante_, Chanter 36, notes 26 & 27.
4. The Baiza Bâî was the widow of Daulat Râo Sindhia. He had died on
March 21, 1827. With the consent of the Government of India, she
adopted a boy as his successor, but, being an ambitions and
intriguing woman, she tried to keep all power in her own hands. The
young Mahârâjâ fled from her, and took refuge in the Residency in
October, 1832. In December of the same year Lord William Bentinck
visited Gwâlior, and assumed an attitude of absolute neutrality. The
result was that trouble continued, and seven months later the
Mahârâjâ again fled to the Residency. The troops then revolted
against the Baiza Bâî, and compelled her to retire to Dhôlpur. This
event put an end to her political activity. Ultimately she was
allowed to return to Gwâlior, and died there in 1862 (Malleson, _The
Native States of India_, pp. 160-4). The author wrote an unpublished
history of Baiza Bâî (_ante_, Bibliography).
5. Long since abolished.
6. The law now permits the person injured to be compensated out of
any fine realized.
7. The system of employing gangs of prisoners on the roads was open
to great abuses, and has been long given up. The prisoners are now,
as a rule, employed only on the jail promises, and cannot be utilized
for outside work, except under special circumstances by special
sanction.
8. The notes to this edition have recorded many changes in India, but
no change has taken place in the difficulties which beset the
administration of criminal law. They are still those which the author
describes, and Police Commissions cannot remove them. The power to
exact security for good behaviour from known bad characters still
exists, and, when discreetly used, is of great value. The conviction
of atrocious robbers and murderers is, perhaps, less rare than it was
in the author's time, though many still escape even the minor penalty
of arrest. The want of a sound moral public opinion is the
fundamental difficulty in Indian police administration--a truth fully
Understood by the author, but rarely realized by members of
Parliament.
9. The title of the Dhôlpur chief is now Mahârâjâ Rânâ. In 1905 his
reduced army numbered 1,216 of all ranks (_I. G._, 1908). The force
is not of serious military value.
10. The identification of the Jâts, or Jats, with the Getae is not
even probable. The anchor exaggerates the lowness of the social rank
of the Jâts, who cannot properly be described as people of 'very low
caste'. They are, and have long been, numerous and powerful in the
Panjâb and the neighbouring countries. It is true that they hate
Brahmans, care little for Brahman notions of propriety, either as
regards food or marriage, and to a certain extent stand outside the
orthodox Hindoo system; but they are heterodox rather than low-caste.
The Râjâs of Bharatpur, Dhôlpur, Nâbha, Patiâlâ, and Jînd are all
Jâts. The Jâts are a fine and interesting people, who seem to suffer
little deterioration from the notorious laxity of their matrimonial
arrangements. They are skilled and industrious cultivators. A saying
has been current in Upper India that, if the British power is ever
broken, the succession will pass to the Jâts.
11. This is the Brahman and Baniyâ theory. A high-spirited Râjpût of
Râjputâna, full of pride in his long ancestry, and yet fond of wild
boar's flesh, would indeed be wroth if denounced as a low-caste man.
It is, however, unfortunately, quite true that all races which become
entangled in the meshes of Hinduism tend to gradually surrender their
freedom, and to become proud of submission to the senseless
formalities and restrictions which the Brahman loves.
12. Akbar II. He was titular emperor from A.D. 1806 to 1837, and was
succeeded by Bahâdur Shâh II, the last of his line. The portrait of
Akbar II is the frontispiece to volume i of the original edition of
this work, and a miniature portrait of him is given in the
frontispiece of volume ii.
13. One of these tombs, namely, that of Bîbî Zarîna, dated A.H. 942 =
A.D. 1535-6, is described by Cunningham (_A.S.R._, xx, p. 113, pl.
xxxvii), who notes that according to an obviously false local popular
story, the lady was a daughter of Shâh Jahân, who lived a century
later. This story seems to have misled the author. No inscription of
the reign of Shâh Jahân at Dhôlpur is recorded.
14. The three sons were Dârâ Shikoh, Aurangzêb, and Murâd Baksh.
CHAPTER 51
Influence of Electricity on Vegetation--Agra and its Buildings.
On the 30th and 31st,[1] we went twenty-four miles over a dry plain,
with a sandy soil covered with excellent crops where irrigated, and a
very poor one where not. We met several long strings of camels
carrying grain from Agra to Gwâlior. A single man takes charge of
twenty or thirty, holding the bridle of the first, and walking on
before its nose. The bridles of all the rest are tied one after the
other to the saddles of those immediately preceding them, and all
move along after the leader in single file. Water must tend to
attract and to impart to vegetables a good deal of electricity and
other vivifying powers that would otherwise he dormant in the earth
at a distance. The mere circumstance of moistening the earth from
within reach of the roots would not be sufficient to account for the
vast difference between the crops of fields that are irrigated, and
those that are not. One day, in the middle of the season of the
rains, I asked my gardener, while walking with him over my grounds,
how it was that some of the fine clusters of bamboos had not yet
begun to throw out their shoots. 'We have not yet had a thunderstorm,
sir,' replied the gardener. 'What in the name of God has the
thunderstorm to do with the shooting of the bamboos?' asked I in
amazement. 'I don't know, sir,' said he, 'but certain it is that no
bamboos begin to throw out their shoots well till we get a good deal
of thunder and lightning.' The thunder and lightning came, and the
bamboo shoots soon followed in abundance. It might have been a mere
coincidence; or the tall bamboo may bring down from the passing
clouds, and convey to the roots, the electric fluid they require for
nourishment, or for conductors of nourishment.[2]
In the Isle of France,[3] people have a notion that the mushrooms
always come up best after a thunderstorm. Electricity has certainly
much more to do in the business of the world than we are yet aware
of, in the animal, mineral, and vegetable developments.[4]
At our ground this day, I met a very respectable and intelligent
native revenue officer who had been employed to settle some boundary
disputes between the yeomen of our territory and those of the
adjoining territory of Dhôlpur.
'The Honourable Company's rights and those of its yeomen must', said
he, 'be inevitably sacrificed in all such cases; for the Dhôlpur
chief, or his minister, says to all their witnesses, "You are, of
course, expected to speak the truth regarding the land in dispute;
but, by the sacred stream of the Ganges, if you speak so as to lose
this estate one inch of it, you lose both your ears"--and most
assuredly would they lose them,' continued he, 'if they were not to
swear most resolutely that all the land in question belonged to
Dhôlpur. Had I the same power to cut off the ears of witnesses on our
side, we should meet on equal terms. Were I to threaten to cut them
off, they would laugh in my face.' There was much truth in what the
poor man said, for the Dhôlpur witnesses always make it appear that
the claims of their yeomen are just and moderate, and a salutary
dread of losing their ears operates, no doubt, very strongly. The
threatened punishment of the prince is quick, while that of the gods,
however just, is certainly very slow--
Ut sit magna, tamen certe lenta ira deorum est.
On the 1st of January, 1836, we went on sixteen miles to Agra, and,
when within about six miles of the city, the dome and minarets of the
Tâj opened upon us from behind a small grove of fruit-trees, close by
us on the side of the road. The morning was not clear, but it was a
good one for a first sight of this building, which appeared larger
through the dusty haze than it would have done through a clear sky.
For five-and-twenty years of my life had I been looking forward to
the sight now before me. Of no building on earth had I heard so much
as of this, which contains the remains of the Emperor Shâh Jahân and
his wife, the father and mother of the children whose struggles for
dominion have been already described. We had ordered our tents to be
pitched in the gardens of this splendid mausoleum, that we might have
our fill of the enjoyment which everybody seemed to derive from it;
and we reached them about eight o'clock. I went over the whole
building before I entered my tent, and, from the first sight of the
dome and minarets on the distant horizon to the last glance back from
my tent-ropes to the magnificent gateway that forms the entrance from
our camp to the quadrangle in which they stand, I can truly say that
everything surpassed my expectations. I at first thought the dome
formed too large a portion of the whole building; that its neck was
too long and too much exposed; and that the minarets were too plain
in their design; but, after going repeatedly over every part, and
examining the _tout ensemble_ from all possible positions, and in all
possible lights, from that of the full moon at midnight in a
cloudless sky to that of the noonday sun, the mind seemed to repose
in the calm persuasion that there was an entire harmony of parts, a
faultless congregation of architectural beauties, on which it could
dwell for ever without fatigue.
After my quarter of a century of anticipated pleasure, I went on from
part to part in the expectation that I must by and by come to
something that would disappoint me; but no, the emotion which one
feels at first is never impaired; on the contrary, it goes on
improving from the first _coup d'œil_ of the dome in the distance to
the minute inspection of the last flower upon the screen round the
tomb. One returns and returns to it with undiminished pleasure; and
though at every return one's attention to the smaller parts becomes
less and less, the pleasure which he derives from the contemplation
of the greater, and of the whole collectively, seems to increase; and
he leaves with a feeling of regret that he could not have it all his
life within his reach, and of assurance that the image of what he has
seen can never be obliterated from his mind 'while memory holds her
seat'. I felt that it was to me in architecture what Kemble and his
sister, Mrs. Siddons, had been to me a quarter of a century before in
acting--something that must stand alone--something that I should
never cease to see clearly in my mind's eye, and yet never be able
clearly to describe to others.[5]
The Emperor and his Queen he buried side by side in a vault beneath
the building, to which we descend by a flight of steps. Their remains
are covered by two slabs of marble; and directly over these slabs,
upon the floor above, in the great centre room under the dome, stand
two other slabs, or cenotaphs, of the same marble exquisitely worked
in mosaic. Upon that of the Queen, amid wreaths of flowers, are
worked in black letters passages from the Korân, one of which, at the
end facing the entrance, terminates with 'And defend us from the
tribe of unbelievers'; that very tribe which is now gathered from all
quarters of the civilized world to admire the splendour of the tomb
which was raised to perpetuate her name.[6] On the slab over her
husband there are no passages from the Korân--merely mosaic work of
flowers with his name and the date of his death.[7] I asked some of
the learned Muhammadan attendants the cause of this difference, and
was told that Shâh Jahân had himself designed the slab over his wife,
and saw no harm in inscribing the words of God upon it; but that the
slab over himself was designed by his more pious son, Aurangzêb, who
did not think it right to place these holy words upon a stone which
the foot of man might some day touch, though that stone covered the
remains of his own father. Such was this 'man of prayers', this
'Namâzî' (as Dara called him), to the last. He knew mankind well,
and, above all, that part of them which he was called upon to govern,
and which he governed for forty years with so much ability.[8]
The slab over the Queen occupies the centre of the apartments above
and in the vault below, and that over her husband lies on the left as
we enter. At one end of the slab in the vault her name is inwrought,
'Mumtâz-i-mahal Bânû Bêgam', the ornament of the palace, Bânû Bêgam,
and the date of her death, 1631. That of her husband and the date of
his death, 1666, are inwrought upon the other.[9]
She died in giving birth to a daughter, who is said to have been
heard crying in the womb by herself and her other daughters. She sent
for the Emperor, and told him that she believed no mother had ever
been known to survive the birth of a child so heard, and that she
felt her end was near. She had, she said, only two requests to make;
first, that he would not marry again after her death, and get
children to contend with hers for his favour and dominions; and,
secondly, that he would build for her the tomb with which he had
promised to perpetuate her name. She died in giving birth to the
child, as might have been expected when the Emperor, in his anxiety,
called all the midwives of the city, and all his secretaries of state
and privy counsellors to prescribe for her. Both her dying requests
were granted. Her tomb was commenced upon immediately. No woman ever
pretended to supply her place in the palace; nor had Shâh Jahân, that
we know of, children by any other.[10] Tavernier saw this building
completed and finished; and tells us that it occupied twenty thousand
men for twenty-two years.[11] The mausoleum itself and all the
buildings that appertain to it cost 3,17,48,026--three _karôr_,
seventeen lâkhs, forty-eight thousand and twenty-six rupees, or
3,174,802 pounds sterling;--three million one hundred and seventy-
four thousand eight hundred and two![12] I asked my wife, when she
had gone over it, what she thought of the building. 'I cannot', said
she, 'tell you what I think, for I know not how to criticize such a
building, but I can tell you what I feel. I would die to-morrow to
have such another over me.' This is what many a lady has felt, no
doubt.
The building stands upon the north side of a large quadrangle,
looking down into the clear blue stream of the river Jumna, while the
other three sides are enclosed with a high wall of red sandstone.[13]
The entrance to this quadrangle is through a magnificent gateway in
the south side opposite the tomb; and on the other two sides are very
beautiful mosques facing inwards, and corresponding exactly with each
other in size, design, and execution. That on the left, or west, side
is the only one that can be used as a mosque or church; because the
faces of the audience, and those of all men at their prayers, must be
turned towards the tomb of their prophet to the west. The pulpit is
always against the dead wall at the back, and the audience face
towards it, standing with their backs to the open front of the
building. The church on the east side is used for the accommodation
of visitors, or for any secular purpose, and was built merely as a
'jawâb' (answer) to the real one.[14] The whole area is laid out in
square parterres, planted with flowers and shrubs in the centre, and
with fine trees, chiefly the cypress, all round the borders, forming
an avenue to every road. These roads are all paved with slabs of
freestone, and have, running along the centre, a basin, with a row of
_jets d'eau_ in the middle from one extremity to the other. These are
made to play almost every evening, when the gardens are much
frequented by the European gentlemen and ladies of the station, and
by natives of all religions and sects. The quadrangle is from east to
west nine hundred and sixty-four feet, and from north to south three
hundred and twenty-nine.[l5]
The mausoleum itself, the terrace upon which it stands, and the
minarets, are all formed of the finest white marble, inlaid with
precious stones. The wall around the quadrangle, including the river
face of the terrace, is made of red sandstone, with cupolas and
pillars of the same white marble. The insides of the churches and
apartments in and upon the walls are all lined with marble or with
stucco work that looks like marble; but, on the outside, the red
sandstone resembles uncovered bricks. The dazzling white marble of
the mausoleum itself rising over the red wall is apt, at first sight,
to make a disagreeable impression, from the idea of a whitewashed
head to an unfinished building; but this impression is very soon
removed, and tends, perhaps, to improve that which is afterwards
received from a nearer inspection. The marble was all brought from
the Jeypore territories upon wheeled carriages, a distance, I
believe, of two or three hundred miles; and the sandstone from the
neighbourhood of Dhôlpur and Fathpur Sîkrî.[16] Shâh Jâhan is said to
have inherited his partiality for this colour from his grandfather,
Akbar, who constructed almost all his buildings from the same stone,
though he might have had the beautiful white freestone at the same
cost. What was figuratively said of Augustus may be most literally
said of Shâh Jahân; he found the cities (Agra and Delhi) all brick,
and left them all marble; for all the marble buildings, and additions
to buildings, were formed by him.[17]
This magnificent building and the palaces at Agra and Delhi were, I
believe, designed by Austin de Bordeaux, a Frenchman of great talent
and merit, in whose ability and integrity the Emperor placed much
reliance. He was called by the natives 'Ustân [_sic_] Isâ, Nâdir-ul-
asr', 'the wonderful of the age'; and, for his office of 'naksha
navîs', or plan-drawer, he received a regular salary of one thousand
rupees a month, with occasional presents, that made his income very
large. He had finished the palace at Delhi, and the mausoleum and
palace of Agra; and was engaged in designing a silver ceiling for one
of the galleries in the latter, when he was sent by the Emperor to
settle some affairs of great importance at Goa. He died at Cochin on
his way back, and is supposed to have been poisoned by the
Portuguese, who were extremely jealous of his influence at court. He
left a son by a native, called Muhammad Sharîf, who was employed as
an architect on a salary of five hundred rupees a month, and who
became, as I conclude from his name, a Musalmân. Shâh Jahân had
commenced his own tomb on the opposite side of the Jumna; and both
were to have been united by a bridge.[18] The death of Austin de
Bordeaux, and the wars between his [_scil._ Shâh Jahân's] sons that
followed prevented the completion of these magnificent works.[19]
We were encamped upon a fine green sward outside the entrance to the
south, in a kind of large court, enclosed by a high cloistered wall,
in which all our attendants and followers found shelter. Colonel and
Mrs. King, and some other gentlemen, were encamped in the same place,
and for the same purpose; and we had a very agreeable party. The band
of our friend Major Godby's regiment played sometimes in the evening
upon the terrace of the Tâj; but, of all the complicated music ever
heard upon earth, that of a flute blown gently in the vault below,
where the remains of the Emperor and his consort repose, as the sound
rises to the dome amidst a hundred arched alcoves around, and
descends in heavenly reverberations upon those who sit or recline
upon the cenotaphs above the vault, is, perhaps, the finest to an
inartificial car. We feel as if it were from heaven, and breathed by
angels; it is to the ear what the building itself is to the eye; but,
unhappily, it cannot, like the building, live in our recollections.
All that we can, in after life, remember is that it was heavenly, and
produced heavenly emotions.
We went all over the palace in the fort, a very magnificent building
constructed by Shâh Jahân within fortifications raised by his
grandfather Akbar.[20]
The fretwork and mosaic upon the marble pillars and panels are equal
to those of the Tâj; or, if possible, superior; nor is the design or
execution in any respect inferior, and yet a European feels that he
could get a house much more commodious, and more to his taste, for a
much less sum than must have been expended upon it. The Marquis of
Hastings, when Governor-General of India, broke up one of the most
beautiful marble baths of this palace to send home to George IV of
England, then Prince Regent, and the rest of the marble of the suite
of apartments from which it had been taken, with all its exquisite
fretwork and mosaic, was afterwards sold by auction, on account of
our Government, by order of the then Governor-General, Lord W.
Bentinck. Had these things fetched the price expected, it is probable
that the whole of the palace, and even the Tâj itself, would have
been pulled down, and sold in the same manner.[21]
We visited the Motî Masjid or Pearl Mosque. It was built by Shâh
Jahân, entirely of white marble; and completed, as we learn from an
inscription on the portico, in the year A.D. 1656.[22] There is no
mosaic upon any of the pillars or panels of this mosque; but the
design and execution of the flowers in bas-relief are exceedingly
beautiful. It is a chaste, simple, and majestic building;[23] and is
by some people admired even more than the Tâj, because they have
heard less of it; and their pleasure is heightened by surprise. We
feel that it is to all other mosques what the Tâj is to all other
mausoleums, a _facile princeps_.
Few, however, go to see the 'mosque of pearls' more than once, stay
as long as they will at Agra; and when they go, the building appears
less and less to deserve their admiration; while they go to the Tâj
as often as they can, and find new beauties in it, or new feelings of
pleasure from it, every time[24]
I went out to visit this tomb of the Emperor Akbar at Sikandara, a
magnificent building, raised over him by his son, the Emperor
Jahângîr. His remains he deposited in a deep vault under the centre,
and are covered by a plain slab of marble, without fretwork or
mosaic. On the top of the building, which is three or four stories
high, is another marble slab, corresponding with the one in the vault
below.[25] This is beautifully carved, with the 'nau nauwê nâm'-the
ninety-nine names, or attributes of the Deity, from the Korân.[26] It
is covered by an awning, not to protect the tomb, but to defend the
'words of God' from the rain, as my cicerone assured me.[27] He told
me that the attendants upon this tomb used to have the hay of the
large quadrangle of forty acres in which it stands,[28] in addition
to their small salaries, and that it yielded them some fifty rupees a
year; but the chief native officer of the Tâj establishment demanded
half of the sum, and when they refused to give him so much, he
persuaded his master, the European engineer, _with much difficulty_,
to take all this hay for the public cattle. 'And why could you not
adjust such a matter between you, without pestering the engineer?'
'Is not this the way', said he, with emotion, 'that Hindustan has cut
its own throat, and brought in the stranger at all times? Have they
ever had, or can they ever have, confidence in each other, or let
each other alone to enjoy the little they have in peace?' Considering
all the circumstances of time and place, Akbar has always appeared to
me among sovereigns what Shakespeare was among poets; and, feeling as
a citizen of the world, I reverenced the marble slab that covers his
bones more, perhaps, than I should that over any other sovereign with
whose history I am acquainted.[29]
Notes:
1. December, 1835.
2. It is not, perhaps, generally known, though it deserves to be so,
that the bamboo seeds only once, and dies immediately after seeding.
All bamboos from the same seed die at the same time, whenever they
may have been planted. The life of the common large bamboo is about
fifty years. [W. H. S.] The period is said to vary between thirty and
sixty years. Bamboo seed is eaten as rice when obtainable. The
author's theories about electricity are more ingenious than
satisfactory.
3. Better known as the Mauritius.
4. This proposition may be accepted with confidence. Electricity is a
great mystery, which becomes more mysterious the more it is studied.
5. A letter of the author's, dated 13th March, 1809, is extant, in
which he gives a full description of the performance of _Macbeth_ at
the Haymarket by Kemble and Mrs. Siddons on Saturday, 11th March. The
author sailed in the _Devonshire_ on the 24th March.
6. No European had ever before, I believe, noted this, [W. H. S.]
Moîn-ud-dîn (p. 49) says that this phrase, 'Thou art our patron, help
as therefore against the unbelieving nations,' is from the long
chapter 2 ('The Cow') of the Korân, but I have not succeeded in
finding the exact words in Sale's version of that chapter. I suspect
that the words have been misread. Moîn-ud-dîn gives as the words at
the north side of the tomb, _script characters_ 'the unbelieving
nations', whereas Muh. Latîf (_Agra_, p. 111) says that the words 'on
the head of the sarcophagus' are _script characters_ 'He is the
everlasting. He is sufficient.' It will be observed that the
characters in the two readings are almost identical.
7. The Empress had been a good deal exasperated against the
Portuguese and Dutch by the treatment her husband received from them
when a fugitive, after an unsuccessful rebellion against his father;
and her hatred to them extended, in some degree, to all Christians,
whom she considered to be included in the term 'Kâfir', or
unbeliever. [W. H. S.] Prince Shâh Jahân (Khurram) rebelled against
his father, Jahângîr, in A.D. 1623, and submitted in A.D. 1625. The
terrible punishment inflicted by Shâh Jahân when Emperor on the
Portuguese of Hûgli (Hooghly) is related by Bernier (Constable's ed.,
pp. 177, 287). The Emperor had previously destroyed the Jesuits'
church at Lahore completely, and the greater part of the church at
Agra.
8. The cleverness, astuteness, energy, and business capacity of
Aurangzêb are undoubted, and yet his long reign was a disastrous
failure. The author reflects the praises of Muhammadans who cherish
the memory of the 'namâzî'. The Emperor himself knew better when, in
his old ago, he wrote to his son Azam the pathetic words, 'I have not
done well by the country or its people. My years have gone by
profitless' (Lane-Poole's version in _Aurangzib_ (Rulers of India),
p. 203. Letter No. 72 in Bilimoria, _Letters of Aurungzbe_, Bombay,
1908. Another version in E. and D. vii, 562.) His reign lasted for
almost forty-nine years, from June 1658 to February 1707, and not for
only forty years.
9. The real tombs are in the vault below. Beautiful cenotaphs stand
under the dome. The inscription on the tomb of the Empress is exactly
repeated on her cenotaph, and runs thus:-
'The splendid sepulchre of Arjumand Bânô Bêgam, entitled Mumtâz
Mahall, deceased in the year 1040 Hijrî.'
The epitaph on Shâh Jahân's tomb is as follows:-
'The sacred sepulchre of His Moat Exalted Majesty, nesting in
Paradise, the Second Lord of the Conjunction, Shâh Jahân, the
Emperor. May his mausoleum ever flourish. Year 1076 Hijrî.'
The inscription on Shâh Jahân's cenotaph adds more titles and gives
the exact date of death as 'the night of Rajab 28, A.H. 1076'. 1040
Hîjrî corresponds with the period from July 31, A.D. 1630 to July 19,
1631; and 1076 Hijrî with the period July 4, A. D. 1665 to June 23,
1666, Old Style. The dates in New Style would be ten days later.
The epithet 'nesting in Paradise' (_firdaus âshiyânî_) was the
official posthumous title of Shâh Jahân, frequently used by
historians instead of his name.
The title 'Second Lord of the Conjunction' means that Shâh Jahân was
held to have been born under the fortunate conjunction of Venus and
Jupiter, as his ancestor Tîmûr had been.
10. The details in the text are inaccurate. Arjumand Bânô Bêgam,
daughter of Âsaf Khân, brother of Nûr Jahân, the queen of Jahângîr,
was born in A.D. 1592, married in 1612, and died July 7, 1631 (o.s.),
at Burhânpur in the Deccan. After a delay of six months her remains
were removed to Agra, and there rested six months longer at a spot in
the Tâj gardens still remembered, until her tomb was sufficiently
advanced for the final interment. Her titles were Mumtâz-i-Mahall,
'Exalted in the Palace'; Qudsia Bêgam, and Nawâb Aliyâ Bêgam. She
bore her husband eight sons and six daughters, fourteen children in
all, of whom seven were alive at the time of her death. The child
whose birth cost the mother's life was Gauharârâ Bêgam, who survived
for many years (Irvine, _Storia do Mogor_, iv. 425). Beale wrongly
gives her name as Dahar Ârâ.
Shâh Jahân, two years before his union with Arjumand Bâno Bêgam, had
been married to a Persian princess, by whom he had a daughter who
died young. Five and a half years after his marriage to Arjumand Bâno
Bêgam, he espoused a third wife, daughter of Shâh Nawâz Khân, by whom
he had a son, who died in infancy. This third marriage was dictated
by motives of policy, and did not impair the Emperor's devotion to
his favourite consort (Muh. Latîf, _Agra_, p. 101).
11. The testimony of Tavernier is doubtless correct if understood as
referring to the whole complex of buildings connected with the
mausoleum. He visited Agra several times. He left India in January,
1654, returning to the country in 1659. Work on the Tâj began in
1632, and so appears to have been completed about the close of, 1653
(Tavernier, _Travels_, transl. Ball, vol. i, pp. xxi, xxii, 25, 110,
142, 149). The latest dated inscription, that of the calligraphist
Amânat Khan at the entrance to the domed mausoleum, was recorded in
the twelfth year of the reign, A.H. 1048, equivalent to A.D. 1638-9.
That year may be taken as the date of the completion of the mausoleum
itself, as distinguished from the great mass of supplementary
structures.
12. Various records of the cost differ enormously, apparently because
they refer to different things. If all the buildings and the vast
value of the materials be included, the highest estimate, namely,
four and a half millions of pounds sterling, in round numbers, is not
excessive (_H.F.A._, 1911, p. 415) The figures are recorded with
minute accuracy as 411 lâkhs, 48,826 rupees, 7 annas, and 6 pies. A
_karôr_ (crore) is 100 lâkhs, or 10 millions.
13. The enclosure occupies a space of more than forty-two acres.
14. This statement, though commonly made, is erroneous. The building
is named the 'assembly house' (jamâ'at khâna), or 'guest-house'
(mihmân khâna) and was intended as the place for the congregation to
assemble before prayers, or on the anniversaries of the deaths of the
Emperor Shâh Jahân or his consort. Tâj Mahal (Muh. Latîf, _Agra_, p.
113). Of course, it also serves as an architectural balance for the
mosque.
15. The gardens of the Tâj have been much improved since the author's
time, and are now under the care of a skilled European
superintendent, and full of beautiful shrubs and trees. The author's
measurements of the quadrangle seem to be wrong. Different figures
are given by Moîn-ud-dîn (_Hist. of the Tâj_, p. 29) and Fergusson
(ed. 1910, vol. ii, p. 313). No official survey is available.
16. The white marble that forms the substance of the building came,
Mr. Keene thinks, from Makrâna near Jaipur, but according to Mr.
Hacket (_Records of the Geographical Survey of India_, x. 84), from
Raiwâla in Jaipur, near the Alwar border [note]. The account of these
marbles given in the _Râjputâna Gazetteer_, 1st ed. (ii. 127) favours
Mr. Keene's view' (_N.W.P. Gazetteer_, 1st ed., vol. vii, p. 707).
The ornamental stones used for the inlay work in the Tâj are lapis
lazuli, jasper, heliotrope, Chalcedon agate, chalcedony, cornelian,
sarde, plasma (or quartz and chlorite), yellow and striped marble,
clay slate, and nephrite, or jade (_Dr. Voysey, in Asiatic
Researches_, vol. xv, p. 429, quoted by V. Bail in _Records of the
Geological Survey of India_, vii. 109). Moîn-ud-dîn (pp. 27-9) gives
a longer list, from the custodians' Persian account.
17. There is some exaggeration in this statement. Shâh Jahân's
concern was with his wife's tomb, and his fortified palaces, more
than with 'the cities'.
18. Sleeman's talk about Austin de Bordeaux is wholly based on his
misreading of _Ustân_ for _Ustâd_, meaning 'Master', in the Persian
account, which names Muhammed-i-Îsâ Afandi (Effendi) as the chief
designer. He had the title of Ustâd, and some versions represent
Muhammad Sharîf, the second draughtsman, as his son. Muhammad, the
son of Îsâ ('Jesus'), apparently was a Turk. He had the Turkish title
of 'Effendi', and the Persian MS. used by Moîn-ud-dîn asserts that he
came from Turkey. The same authority states that Muhammad Sharîf was
a native of Samarkand.
Austin de Bordeaux was wholly distinct from Muhammad-i-Îsâ, Ustâd
Afandi, and there is no reason to suppose that he had anything to do
with the Tâj. Sleeman's story about his work at Agra and his death
comes from Tavernier (i. 108, transl. Ball: see next note). Austin
was in the service of Jahângîr as early as 1621, and probably came
out to India from Persia in 1614. He is described as an engineer
(_ingénieur_), and is recorded to have made a golden throne for
Jahângîr (_J.R.A.S._, 1910, pp. 494, 1343-5). Sleeman's misreading of
_ustâd_ as _ustân_, and his consequent blunders, have misled
innumerable writers. In cursive Persian the misreading is easy and
natural. He took Ustân as intended for 'Austin'. Certain marks in the
garden on the other side of the river indicate the spot where Shâh
Jahân had begun work on his own tomb. Aurangzêb, as Tavernier
observes, was 'not disposed to complete it' (see _A.S.R._, iv. 180).
For a summary of the controversy concerning the alleged share of
Geronimo Veroneo in the design of the Tâj, see _H.F.A._, 1911, pp.
416-18. Personally, I am of opinion, as I was more than twenty years
ago, that 'the incomparable Tâj is the product of a combination of
European and Asiatic genius'. That opinion makes some people very
angry.
19. I would not be thought very positive upon this point, I think I
am right, but feel that I may be wrong. Tavernier says that Shâh
Jahân was obliged to give up his intention of completing a silver
ceiling to the great hall in the palace, because Austin de Bordeaux
had been killed, and no other person could venture to attempt it.
Ustân [_sic_] Îsâ, in all the Persian accounts, stands first among
the salaried architects. [W. H. S.] Tavernier's words are, 'Shâh
Jahân had intended to cover the arch of a great gallery which is on
the right hand with silver, and a Frenchman, named Augustin de
Bordeaux, was to have done the work. But the Great Mogul, seeing
there was no one in his kingdom who was more capable to send to Goa
to negotiate an affair with the Portuguese, the work was not done,
for, as the ability of Augustin was feared, he was poisoned on his
return from Cochin.' (_Tavernier_, transl. Ball, vol. i, p. 108. )
The statement that Austin had 'finished the palace at Delhi, and the
mausoleum and palace of Agra' is not warranted by any evidence known
to the editor.
20. Akbar erected his works on the site of an older fort, named
Bâdalgarh, presumably of Hindu origin, 'which was of brick, and had
become ruinous.' No existing building within the precincts can be
referred with certainty to an earlier date than that of Akbar. The
erection began in A.H. 972, corresponding to A.D. 1564-5, and the
work continued for eight (or, according to another authority, four)
years, costing 3,500,000 rupees, or about £350,000 sterling. The
walls are of rubble, faced with red sandstone. The best account is
the article by Nûr Baksh, entitled 'The Agra Fort and its Buildings',
in _A.S. Ann. Rep._, 1903-4, pp. 164-93.
21. It is difficult to understand how men like the Marquis of
Hastings and Lord William Bentinck could have been guilty of such
barbarous stupidity. But the fact is beyond doubt, and numberless
officials of less exalted rank must share the disgrace of the ruin
and spoliation, which, both at Agra and Delhi, have destroyed two
noble palaces, and left but a few disconnected fragments. Fergusson's
indignant protests (_History of Indian and Eastern Architecture_, ed.
1910, vol. ii, p. 312, &c.) are none too strong. Sir John Strachey,
who was Lieutenant-Governor of the North-Western Provinces in 1876,
is entitled to the credit of having done all that lay in his power to
remedy the effects of the parsimony and neglect of his predecessors.
The buildings which remain at both Agra and Delhi are now well cared
for, and large sums are spent yearly on their reparation and
conservation. The credit for the modern policy of reverence for the
ancient monuments is due to Lord Curzon more than to any one else.
22. This date is erroneous. The inscription is dated A.H. 1063, in
the 26th year of Shâh Jahân, equivalent practically to A.D. 1653. It
is given in full, with both text and translation, in _A.S. Ann. Rep._
for 1903-4, p. 183. It states that the building was erected in the
course of seven years at a cost of 300,000 rupees, which = £33,750,
at the rate of 2_s_. 3_d_. to the rupee current at the time. Errors
on the subject disfigure most of the guide-books and other works
commonly read.
23. The beauty of the Motî Masjid, like that of most mosques, is all
internal. The exterior is ugly. The interior deserves all praise.
Fergusson describes this mosque as 'one of the purest and most
elegant buildings of its class to be found anywhere', and truly
observes that 'the moment you enter by the eastern gateway the effect
of its courtyard is surpassingly beautiful'. 'I hardly know
anywhere', he adds, 'of a building so perfectly pure and elegant.'
(_Ind. and E. Arch._, ed. 1910, vol. ii, p. 317. See also _H.F.A._,
p. 412, fig. 242.)
24. I would, however, here enter my humble protest against the
quadrille and tiffin [_scil._ lunch] parties, which are sometimes
given to the European ladies and gentlemen of the station at this
imperial tomb; drinking and dancing are, no doubt, very good things
in their season, even in a hot climate, but they are sadly out of
place in a sepulchre, and never fail to shock the good feelings of
sober-minded people when given there. Good church music gives us
great pleasure, without exciting us to dancing or drinking; the Tâj
does the same, at least to the sober-minded. [W. H. S.] The
regulations now in force prevent any unseemly proceedings. The
gardens at the Tâj, of Itimâd-ud-daula's tomb, of Akbar's mausoleum
at Sikandara, and the Râm Bâgh, are kept up by means of income
derived from crown lands, aided by liberal grants from Government.
25. The anthor's curiously meagre description of the magnificent
mausoleum of Akbar is, in the original edition, supplemented by
coloured plates, prepared apparently from drawings by Indian artists.
The structure is absolutely unique, being a square pyramid of five
stories, the uppermost of which is built of pure white marble, while
the four lower ones are of red sandstone. All earlier descriptions of
the building have been superseded by the posthumous work of E. W.
Smith, a splendidly illustrated quarto, entitled, _Akbar's Tomb,
Sikandarah, Agra_, Allahabad Government Press, 1909, being vol. xxxv
of A. S. India. Work had been begun in the lifetime of Akbar. The
lower part of the enclosing wall of the park dates from his reign.
The whole of the mausoleum itself probably is to be assigned to the
reign of Jahângîr, who in 1608 disapproved of the structure which had
been three or four years in course of erection, and caused the design
to be altered to please himself. The work was finished in 1613 at a
cost of five millions of rupees (50 lâkhs, more than half a million
of pounds sterling). The exquisitely carved cenotaph on the top story
is inadequately described by Sleeman as 'another marble slab'. It is
a single block of marble 3 1/4 feet high. The tomb in the vault 'is
perfectly plain with the exception of a few mouldings'.
26. The ninety-nine names of God do not occur in the Korân. They are
enumerated in chapter 1 of Book X of the 'Mishkât-ul-Masâbih' (see
note 10, Chapter 5 _ante_): 'Abû Hurairah said, "Verily there are
ninety-nine names for God; and whoever counts them shall enter into
paradise. He is Allaho, than which there is no other; Al-Rahmân-ul-
Rahîmo, the compassionate and merciful," &c., &c.' (Matthews, vol. i,
p. 542.) The list is reproduced in the introduction to Palmer's
translation of the Korân, and in Bosworth-Smith, _Muhammad and
Muhammadanism_.
27. The court, 70 feet square, of the topmost story, is open to the
sky, but the original intention was to provide a light dome,
presumably similar to that built a little later to crown the
mausoleum of Itimâd-ud-daula. Finch, the traveller, who was at Agra
about 1611, was informed that the cenotaph was 'to be inarched over
with the most curious white and speckled marble, and to be seeled all
within with pure sheet gold, richly inwrought.' The reason for
omitting the dome is not recorded.
28. The area is much larger than 40 acres, being really about 150
acres. Each side is approximately 3 1/2 furlongs.
29. This remarkable eulogium is quoted with approval by another
enthusiastic admirer of Akbar, Count von Noer (Prince Frederick
Augustus of Schleswig-Holstein), who observes that 'as Akbar was
unique amongst his contemporaries, so was his place of burial among
Indian tombs--indeed, one may say with confidence, among the
sepulchres of Asia.' (_The Emperor Akbar, a Contribution towards the
History of India in the 16th Century_, by Frederick Augustus, Count
of Noer; edited from the Author's papers by Dr. Gustav von Buchwald;
translated from the German by Annette S. Beveridge. Calcutta, 1890.)
This work of Count von Noer, unsatisfactory though it is in many
respects, is still the best exiting modern account of Akbar's reign.
The competent scholar who will undertake the exhaustive treatment of
the life and reign of Akbar will be in possession of perhaps the
finest great historical subject as yet unappropriated. The editor
long cherished the idea of writing such an exhaustive work, but if he
should now attempt to deal with the fascinating theme, he must be
content with a less ambitions performance. Colonel Malleson's little
book in the 'Rulers of India' series, although serviceable as a
sketch, adds nothing to the world's knowledge. Akbar's reign (1556-
1605) was almost exactly coincident with that of Queen Elizabeth
(1558-1603). The character and deeds of the Indian monarch will bear
criticism as well as those of his great English contemporary. 'In
dealing', observes Mr. Lane-Poole, 'with the difficulties arising in
the Government of a peculiarly heterogeneous empire, he stands
absently supreme among Oriental sovereigns, and may even challenge
comparison with the greatest of European rulers.'
Unhappily, there is reason to believe that the marble slab no longer
covers the bones of Akbar. Manucci states positively that 'During the
time that Aurangzêb was actively at war with Shivâ Jî [_scil._ the
Marâthâs], the villagers of whom I spoke before broke into the
mausoleum in the year 1691 [in words], and after stealing all the
stones and all the gold work to be found, extracted the king's bones
and had the temerity to throw them on a fire and burn them' (_Storia
do Mogor_, i. 142). The statement is repeated with some additional
particulars in a later passage, which concludes with the words:
'Dragging out the bones of Akbar, they threw them angrily into the
fire and burnt them' (ibid. ii. 320). Irvine notes that the
plundering of the tomb by the Jâts is mentioned in detail by only one
other writer, Ishar Dâs Nâgar, author of the _Fatûhât-I-Alamgîrî_, a
manuscript in the British Museum. Manucci seems to be the sole
authority for the alleged burning of Akbar's bones. I should be glad
to disbelieve him, but cannot find any reason for doing so.
CHAPTER 52
Nûr Jahân, the Aunt of the Empress Nûr Mahal, over whose Remains the
Tâj is built.[1]
I crossed over the river Jumna one morning to look at the tomb of
Itimâd-ud-daula, the most remarkable mausoleum in the neighbourhood
after those of Akbar and the Tâj. On my way back, I asked one of the
boatmen who was rowing me who had built what appeared to me a new
dome within the fort. 'One of the Emperors, of course,' said he.
'What makes you think so?'
'Because such things are made only by Emperors,' replied the man
quietly, without relaxing his pull at the oar.
'True, very true,' said an old Musalmân trooper, with large white
whiskers and moustachios, who had dismounted to follow me across the
river, with a melancholy shake of the head, 'very true; who but
Emperors could do such things as these?'
Encouraged by the trooper, the boatman continued:--'The Jâts and the
Marâthâs did nothing but pull down and destroy while they held their
_accursed dominion_ here; and the European gentlemen who now govern
seem to have no pleasure in building anything but _factories, courts
of justice, and jails_.'
Feeling as an Englishman, as we all must sometimes do, be where we
will, I could hardly help wishing that the beautiful panels and
pillars of the bath-room had fetched a better price, and that palace,
Tâj, and all at Agra, had gone to the hammer--so sadly do they exalt
the past at the expense of the present in the imaginations of the
people.
The tomb contains in the centre the remains of Khwâja Ghiâs,[2] one
of the most prominent characters of the reign of Jahângîr, and those
of his wife. The remains of the other members of his family repose in
rooms all round them; and are covered with slabs of marble richly
cut. It is an exceedingly beautiful building, but a great part of the
most valuable stones of the mosaic work have been picked out and
stolen, and the whole is about to be sold by auction, by a decree of
the civil court, to pay the debt of the present proprietor, who is
entirely unconnected with the family whose members repose under it,
and especially indifferent as to what becomes of their bones. The
building and garden in which it stands were, some sixty years ago,
given away, I believe, by Nâjîf Khân, the prime minister, to one of
his nephews, to whose family it still belongs.[3] Khwaja Ghiâs, a
native of Western Tartary, left that country for India, where he had
some relations at the imperial court, who seemed likely to be able to
secure his advancement. He was a man of handsome person, and of good
education and address. He set out with his wife, a bullock, and a
small sum of money, which he realized by the sale of all his other
property. The wife, who was pregnant, rode upon the bullock, while he
walked by her side. Their stock of money had become exhausted, and
they had been three days without food in the great desert, when she
was taken in labour, and gave birth to a daughter. The mother could
hardly keep her seat on the bullock, and the father had become too
exhausted to afford her any support; and in their distress they
agreed to abandon the infant. They covered it over with leaves, and
towards evening pursued their journey. When they had gone on about a
mile, and had lost sight of the solitary shrub under which they had
left their child, the mother, in an agony of grief, threw herself
from the bullock upon the ground, exclaiming, 'My child, my child!'
Ghiâs could not resist this appeal. He went back to the spot, took up
his child, and brought it to its mother's breast. Some travellers
soon after came up, and relieved their distress, and they reached
Lahore, where the Emperor Akbar then held his court.[4]
Âsaf Khan, a distant relation of Ghiâs, held a high place at court,
and was much in the confidence of the Emperor. He made his kinsman
his private secretary. Much pleased with his diligence and ability,
Âsaf soon brought his merits to the special notice of Akbar, who
raised him to the command of a thousand horse, and soon after
appointed him master of the household. From this he was promoted
afterwards to that of Itimâd-ud-daula, or high treasurer, one of the
first ministers.[5]
The daughter who had been born in the desert became celebrated for
her great beauty, parts, and accomplishments, and won the affections
of the eldest son of the Emperor, the Prince Salîm, who saw her
unveiled, by accident, at a party given by her father. She had been
betrothed before this to Shêr Afgan, a Turkoman gentleman of rank at
court, and of great repute for his high spirit, strength, and
courage.[6] Salîm in vain entreated his father to interpose his
authority to make him resign his claim in his favour; and she became
the wife of Shêr Afgan. Salîm dare not, during his father's life,
make any open attempt to revenge himself; but he, and those courtiers
who thought it their interest to worship the rising sun, soon made
his [Afgan's] residence at the capital disagreeable, and he retired
with his wife to Bengal, where he obtained from the governor the
superintendency of the district of Bardwân.
Salîm succeeded his father on the throne;[7] and, no longer
restrained by his (_scil._ Akbar's) rigid sense of justice, he
recalled Shêr Afgan to court at Delhi. He was promoted to high
offices, and concluded that time had removed from the Emperor's mind
all feelings of love for his wife, and of resentment against his
successful rival--but he was mistaken; Salîm had never forgiven him,
nor had the desire to possess his wife at all diminished. A
Muhammadan of such high feeling and station would, the Emperor knew,
never survive the dishonour, or suspected dishonour, of his wife; and
to possess her he must make away with the husband. He dared not do
this openly, because he dreaded the universal odium in which he knew
it would involve him; and he made several unsuccessful attempts to
get him removed by means that might not appear to have been contrived
or executed by his orders. At one time he designedly, in his own
presence, placed him in a situation where the pride of the chief made
him contend, single-handed, with a large tiger, which he killed; and,
at another, with a mad elephant, whose proboscis he cut off with his
sword; but the Emperor's motives in all these attempts to put him
foremost in situations of danger became so manifest that Shêr Afgan
solicited, and obtained, permission to retire with his wife to
Bengal.
The governor of this province, Kutb,[8] having been made acquainted
with the Emperor's desire to have the chief made away with, hired
forty ruffians, who stole into his house one night. There happened to
be nobody else in the house; but one of the party, touched by remorse
on seeing so fine a man about to be murdered in his sleep, called out
to him to defend himself. He seized his sword, placed himself in one
corner of the room, and defended himself so well that nearly one-half
of the party are said to have been killed or wounded. The rest all
made off, persuaded that he was endowed with supernatural force.
After this escape he retired from Tânda, the capital of Bengal,[9] to
his old residence of Bardwân. Soon after, Kutb came to the city with
a splendid retinue, on pretence of making a tour of inspection
through the provinces under his charge, but in reality for the sole
purpose of making away with Shêr Afgan, who as soon as he heard of
his approach, came out some miles to meet him on horseback, attended
by only two followers. He was received with marks of great
consideration, and he and the governor rode on for some time side by
side, talking of their mutual friends, and the happy days they had
spent together at the capital. At last, as they were about to enter
the city, the governor suddenly called for his elephant of state, and
mounted, saying it would be necessary for him to pass through the
city on the first visit in some state. Shêr sat on horseback while he
mounted, but one of the governor's pikemen struck his horse, and
began to drive him before them. Shêr drew his sword, and, seeing all
the governor's followers with theirs ready drawn to attack him, he
concluded at once that the affront had been put upon him by the
orders of Kutb, and with the design to provoke him to an unequal
fight. Determined to have his life first, he spurred his horse upon
the elephant, and killed Kutb with his spear. He now attacked the
principal of officers, and five noblemen of the first rank fell by
his sword. All the crowd now rolled back, and formed a circle round
Shêr and his two companions, and galled them with arrows and musket
balls from a distance. His horse fell under him and expired; and,
having received six balls and several arrows in his body, Shêr
himself at last fell exhausted to the ground; and the crowd, seeing
the sword drop from his grasp, rushed in and cut him to pieces.[l0]
His widow was sent, 'nothing loth', to court, with her only child, a
daughter. She was graciously received by the Emperor's mother, and
had apartments assigned her in the palace; but the Emperor himself is
said not to have seen her for four years, during which time the fame
of her beauty, talents, and accomplishments filled the palace and
city. After the expiration of this time the feelings, whatever they
were, which prevented his seeing her, subsided; and when he at last
surprised her with a visit, he found her to exceed all that his
imagination had painted since their last separation. In a few days
their marriage was celebrated with great magnificence;[11] and from
that hour the Emperor resigned the reins of government almost
entirely into her hands; and, till his death, under the name first of
Nûr Mahall, 'Light of the Palace', and afterwards of Nûr Jahân,
'Light of the World ', she ruled the destinies of this great empire.
Her father was now raised from the station of high treasurer to that
of prime minister. Her two brothers obtained the titles of Âsaf Jâh
and Itikâd Khan; and the relations of the family poured in from
Tartary in search of employment, as soon as they heard of their
success.[12] Nûr Jahân had by Sher Afgan, as I have stated, one
daughter; but she had never any child by the Emperor Jahângîr.[13]
Âsaf Jâh became prime minister on the death of his father; and, in
spite of his sister, he managed to secure the crown to Shâh Jahân,
the third son of Jahângîr, who had married his daughter, the lady
over whose remains the Tâj was afterwards built. Jahângîr's eldest
son, Khusrû, had his eyes put out by his father's orders for repeated
rebellions, to which he had been instigated by a desire to revenge
his mother's murder, and by the ambition of her brother, the Hindoo
prince, Mân Singh,[14] who wished to see his own nephew on the
throne, and by his wife's father, the prime minister of Akbar, Khan
Azam.[15] Nûr Jahân had invited the mother of Khusrû, the sister of
Râjâ Mân Singh, to look with her down a well in the courtyard of her
apartments by moonlight, and as she did so she threw her in. As soon
as she saw that she had ceased to struggle she gave the alarm, and
pretended that she had fallen in by accident.[16]
By the murder of the mother of the heir-apparent she expected to
secure the throne to a creature of her own. Khusrû was treated with
great kindness by his father, after he had been barbarously deprived
of sight;[17] but when his brother, Shâh Jahân, was appointed to the
government of Southern India, he pretended great solicitude about the
comforts of his _poor blind brother_, which he thought would not be
attended to at court, and took him with him to his government in the
Deccan, where he got him assassinated, as the only sure mode of
securing the throne to himself.[18] Parwîz, the second son, died a
natural death;[19] so also did his only son; and so also Dâniyâl, the
fourth son of the Emperor.[20] Nûr Jahân's daughter by Shêr Afgan had
married Shahryâr, a young son of the Emperor by a concubine; and,
just before his death he (the Emperor), at the instigation of Nûr
Jahân, named this son as his successor in his will. He was placed
upon the throne, and put in possession of the treasury, and at the
head of a respectable army;[21] but the Empress's brother, Âsaf,
designed the throne for his own son-in-law, Shâh Jahân; and, as soon
as the Emperor died, he put up a puppet to amuse the people till he
could come up with his army from the Deccan--Bulâkî, the eldest son
of the deceased Khusrû. Shahryâr's troops were defeated; he was taken
prisoner, and had his eyes put out forthwith, and the Empress was put
into close confinement. As Shâh Jahân approached Lahore with his
army, Âsaf put his puppet, Bulâkî, and his younger brother, with the
two young sons of Dâniyâl, into prison, where they were strangled by
a messenger sent on for the purpose by Shâh Jahân, with the sanction
of Âsaf.[22] This measure left no male heir alive of the house of
Tîmûr (Tamerlane) in Hindustan, save Shâh Jahân himself and his four
sons. Dârâ was then thirteen years of age, Shujâ twelve, Aurangzêb
ten, and Murâd four;[23] and all were present to learn from their
father this sad lesson--that such of them who might be alive on his
death, save one, must, with their sons, be hunted down and destroyed
like mad dogs, lest they might get into the hands of the disaffected,
and be made the tools of faction.
Monsieur de Thevenot, who visited Agra, as I have before stated, in
1666, says, 'Some affirm that there are twenty-five thousand
Christian families in Agra; but all do not agree in that. The Dutch
have a factory in the town, but the English have now none, because it
did not turn to account.' The number must have been great, or so
sober a man as Monsieur Thevenot would not have thought such an
estimate worthy to be quoted without contradiction.[24] They were
all, except those connected with the single Dutch factory, maintained
from the salaries of office; and they gradually disappeared as their
offices became filled with Muhammadans and Hindoos. The duties of the
artillery, its arsenals, and foundries, were the chief foundation
upon which the superstructure of Christianity then stood in India.
These duties were everywhere entrusted exclusively to Europeans, and
all Europeans were Christians, and, under Shâh Jahân, permitted
freely to follow their own modes of worship. They were, too. Roman
Catholic, and spent the greater part of their incomes in the
maintenance of priests. But they could never forget that they were
strangers in the land, and held their offices upon a precarious
tenure; and, consequently, they never felt disposed to expend the
little wealth they had in raising durable tombs, churches, and other
public buildings, to tell posterity who or what they were. Present
physical enjoyment, and the prayers of their priests for a good berth
in the next world, were the only objects of their ambition.
Muhammadans and Hindoos soon learned to perform duties which they saw
bring to the Christians so much of honour and emolument; and, as they
did so, they necessarily sapped the walls of the fabric. Christianity
never became independent of office in India, and, I am afraid, never
will; even under our rule, it still mainly rests upon that
foundation.[25]
Notes:
1. The names and titles of the empress 'over whose remains the Tâj is
built' were Nawâb Aliyâ Begam, Arjumand Bânû, Mumtâz-i-Mahall. The
title Nûr Mahall, as applied to her, is without authority: it
properly belongs to her aunt. 'It is usual in this country', Bernier
observes, 'to give similar names to the members of the reigning
family. Thus the wife of _Chah-Jehan_--so renowned for her beauty,
and whose splendid mausoleum is more worthy of a place among the
wonders of the world than the unshapen masses and heaps of stones in
Egypt--was named _Tâge Mehalle_ [Mumtâz-i-Mahall], or the Crown of
the Seraglio; and the wife of Jehan-Guyre, who so long wielded the
sceptre, while her husband abandoned himself to drunkenness and
dissipation, was known first by the name of _Nour Mehalle_, the Light
of the Seraglio, and afterwards by that of _Nour-Jehan-Begum_, the
Light of the World.' (Bernier, _Travels_, ed. Constable, and V. A.
Smith, 1914, p. 5.)
2. Properly, Ghiâs-ud-dîn, meaning 'succourer of religion'. The word
Ghiâs cannot stand as a name by itself.
3. The author's slight description of Itimâd-ud-daula's exquisite
sepulchre is, in the original edition, illustrated by two coloured
plates, one of the exterior, and the other of the interior
(restored). The lack of grandeur in this building is amply atoned for
by its elegance and marvellous beauty of detail. An inscription,
dated A.H. 1027 = A.D. 1618, alleged to exist in connexion with the
building, has not, apparently, been published. (_N.W.P. Gazetteer_,
1st ed., vol. vii, p. 687.)
Fergusson's description and just criticism deserve quotation. 'The
tomb known as that of Itimâd-ud-daula, at Agra, . . . cannot be
passed over, not only from its own beauty of design, but also because
it marks an epoch in the style to which it belongs. It was erected by
Nûr-Jahân in memory of her father, who died in 1621, and [it] was
completed in 1628. It is situated on the left bank of the river, in
the midst of a garden surrounded by a wall measuring 540 feet on each
side. In the centre of this, on a raised platform, stands the tomb
itself, a square measuring 69 feet on each side. It is two stories in
height, and at each angle is an octagonal tower, surmounted by an
open pavilion. The towers, however, are rather squat in proportion,
and the general design of the building very far from being so
pleasing as that of many less pretentious tombs in the neighbourhood.
Had it, indeed, been built in red sandstone, or even with an inlay of
white marble like that of Humâyûn, it would not have attracted much
attention, its real merit consists in being wholly in white marble,
and being covered throughout with a mosaic in 'pietra dura'--the
first, apparently, and certainly one of the most splendid, examples
of that class of ornamentation in India....
'As one of the first, the tomb of Itimâd-ud-daula was certainly one
of the least successful specimens of its class. The patterns do not
quite fit the places where they are put, and the spaces are not
always those best suited for this style of decoration. [Altogether I
cannot help fancying that the Italians had more to do with the design
of this building than was at all desirable, and they are to blame for
its want of grace.[a]] But, on the other hand, the beautiful tracery
of the pierced marble slabs of its Windows, which resemble those of
Salîm Chishtî's tomb at Fatehpur Sikrî, the beauty of its white
marble walls, and the rich colour of its decorations, make up so
beautiful a whole, that it is only on comparing it with the works of
Shâh Jahân that we are justified in finding fault.' (_Indian and
Eastern Architecture_, ed. 1910, pp. 305-7.) Further details will be
found in Syad Muhammad Latîf, _Agra_ (Calcutta, 1896); _A.S.R._ iv,
pp. 137-41 (Calcutta, 1874); and more satisfactorily, in E. W. Smith,
_Moghul Colour Decoration of Agra_ (Allahabad, 1901), pp. 18-20, pl.
lxv-lxxvii. Mr. E. W. Smith, if he had lived, would have produced a
separate volume descriptive of this unique building.
The building is now carefully guarded and kept in repair. The
restoration of the inlay of precious stones is so enormously
expensive that much progress in that branch of the work is
impracticable. The mausoleum contains seven tombs.
a. This sentence has been deleted by Dr. Burgess in his edition,
1910.
4. This tale is mythical. The alleged circumstances could not be
known to any person besides the father and mother, neither of whom
would be likely to make them public. Blochmann (transl. _Âîn_, i.
508) gives a full account of Itimâd-ud-daula and his family. The
historians state that Nûr Jahân was born at Kandahâr, on the way to
India. Her father was the son of a high Persian official, but for
some reason or other was obliged to quit Persia with his family. He
was a native of Teheran, not of 'Western Tartary'. The personal name
of Nûr Jahân was Mihr-un-nisâ.
5. This story is erroneous, and inconsistent with the correct
statement in the heading of the chapter that Nûr Jahân, daughter of
Ghiâs-ud-dîn, was aunt of the Lady of the Tâj. The author makes out
Ghiâs-ud-dîn (whom he corruptly calls Aeeas) to be a distant relation
of Âsaf Khan. In reality, Âsaf Khân (whose original name was Mirzâ
Abûl Hasan) was the second son of Ghiâs-ud-dîn, and was elder brother
of Nûr Jahân, The genealogy, so far as relevant, is best shown in a
tabular form, thus:--
Mirzâ Ghiâs-ud-dîn Beg
(alias Itimâd-ud-daula).
|
|
|----------------|-------------------------|
| | |
Muhammad Âsaf Khan *Nûr Mahall*
Sharîf. (_alias_ Mirzâ (_alias_ *Nûrjâahân*),
Abûl Hasan). *Empress of Jahângîr*
| (and widow of
| Shêr Afgan).
|
*Mumtâz-i-Mahall*
(_alias_ Arjumand Bânû Bêgam,
_alias_ Nawâb Aliyâ Bêgam),
*Empress of Shâh Jahân*.
6. Alî Qulî Beg, from Persia entered Akbar's service, and in the war
with the Rânâ of Chitôr, served under Prince Salîm (Jahângîr), who
gave him the title of Shêr Afgan, 'tiger-thrower', with reverence to
his deeds of prowess. The spelling _afgan_ is correct. The word is
the radical of the Persian verb _afgandan_, 'to throw down'.
7. In October, 1605.
8. Properly Kutb-ud-dîn Khan. He was foster-brother of Prince Salîm
(Jahângîr), and his appointment as viceroy alarmed Shêr Afgan, and
caused the latter to throw up his appointment in Bengal. The word
Kutb (Qutb) cannot stand alone as a name. Kutb (Qutb)-ud-dîn means
'pole-star of religion'.
9. Tândân, or Tânra. Ancient town, now a petty village, in Mâlda
District, Bengal, the capital of Bengal after the decadence of Gaur.
Its history is obscure, and the very site of the city has not been
accurately determined. It is certain that it was in the immediate
neighbourhood of Gaur, and south-west of that town beyond the
Bhâgîrathî. Old Tândân has been utterly swept away by the changes in
the course of the Pâglâ. It was occupied by the Afghan king of Bengal
in A.D. 1564, and is not mentioned after 1660. (_I.G._, 1908.)
10. This narrative, notwithstanding all the minute details with which
it is garnished, cannot be accepted as sober history; and I do not
know from what source the author obtained it. 'This lady, whose
maiden name was Muhr-un-Nisâ, or "Seal of Womankind", had attracted
the admiration of Jahângîr when he was crown prince, but Akbar
married her to a young Turkomân and settled them in Bengal. After
Jahângîr's accession the husband was killed in a quarrel with the
governor of the province, and the wife was placed under the care of
one of Akbar's widows, with whom she remained four years, and then
married Jahângîr (1610). There is nothing to justify a suspicion of
the Emperor's connivance in the husband's death; nor do Indian
historians corroborate the invidious criticisms of "Normal" by
European travellers; on the contrary, they portray Nûr-Mahall as a
pattern of all the virtues, and worthy to wield the supreme influence
which she obtained over the Emperor.' (Lane-Poole, _The History of
the Moghul Emperors of Hindustan illustrated by their Coins_, p.
xix.) The authorities on which this statement is founded are given in
_E. & D._, vol. vi, pp. 397 and 402-5. See also Blochmann, _Âîn_,
vol. i, pp. 496, 524. Details of such stories in the various
chronicles always differ. Jahângîr openly rejoiced in the death of
Shêr Afgan, and it is by no means clear that he was not responsible
for the event. He was not troubled by nice scruples. The first
element in the lady's personal name seems to be _Mihr_, 'sun', not
_Muhr_, 'seal'. The words are identical in ordinary Persian writing.
11. The long interval which elapsed between Shêr Afgan's death and
the marriage with the Emperor is a fact opposed to the assumptions
which the author adopts that Nûr Mahall was 'nothing loth', and that
the death of her first husband was contrived by Jahângîr.
12. Quaint Sir Thomas Herbert thus expresses himself: 'Meher Metzia
[Mihr-un-nisâ] is forthwith espoused with all solemnity to the King,
and her name changed to Nourshabegem [Nûr Shâh Bêgam], or Nor-mahal,
i.e., Light or Glory of the Court; her Father upon this affinity
advanced upon all the other Umbraes ['umarâ', or nobles]; her
brother, Assaph-Chan [Âsaf Khân], and most of her kindred, smiled
upon, with the addition of Honours, Wealth, and Command. And in this
Sun-shine of content Jangheer [Jahângîr] spends some years with his
lovely Queen, without regarding ought save Cupid's Currantoes'
(_Travels_, ed. 1677, p. 74). Authority exists for the title Âsaf
Jâh, as well as for the variant Âsaf Khân.
Coins were struck in the joint names of Jahângîr and his consort,
bearing a rhyming Persian couplet to the effect that
'By command of Jahângîr the King, from the name of Nûr Jahân his
Queen, gold gained a hundred beauties.'
The Queen's administration is censured by some of the European
travellers who visited India during Jahângîr's reign as being venal
and inefficient, and she is accused of cruelty and perfidy. She died
on the 18th December (N.S.), 1645, and was buried by the aide of
Jahângîr in his mausoleum at Lahore. At her death she was in her 72nd
year, according to the Muhammadan lunar reckoning, and would thus
have been thirty-four solar years of age when the Emperor married her
in 1610 (Beale: Blochmann).
13. According to Sir Thomas Herbert (_Travels_, ed. 1677, p. 99),
'Queen Normahal and her three daughters' were confined by order of
Shâh Jahân in A.D. 1628.
14. Son of Bhagwân Dâs, of Ambêr or Jaipur, in Râjputâna, and one of
the greatest of Akbar's officers.
15. Also known as Azîz Kokah, a foster-brother of Akbar.
16. This story may or may not be true; but a charge of this kind is
absolutely incapable of proof, and would be readily generated in the
palace atmosphere.
17. According to a contemporary authority, the blinding was only
partial, and the prince recovered the sight of one eye (_E. & D._ vi.
448). With regard to such details the discrepancies in the histories
are innumerable.
18. A.H. 1031 = A.D. 1621-2. The charge seems to be true.
19. A.H. 1036 = A.D. 1626-7.
20. This is a blunder. Jahângîr's fourth son was named Jahândâr, and
died in or about A.H. 1035 = A.D. 1625-6. Dâniyâl was third son of
Akbar, and younger brother of Jahângîr. He died from _delirium
tremens_ in A.D. 1605, a few months before the death of Akbar,
21. Jahângîr died, when returning from Kâshmîr, on the 8th November,
A.D. 1627 (N.S.), and was buried near Lahore. The fight with Shahryâr
took place at Lahore.
22. Bulâkî assumed the title of Dâwar Baksh during his short reign,
and struck coins at Lahore. He 'vanished--probably to Persia--after
his three months' pretence of royalty; and on 25th January, 1628 (18
Jumâda I, 1037), Shâh-Jahân ascended at Agra the throne which he was
to occupy for thirty years'. Shahryâr was known by the nickname of
_Nâ-shudanî_, or 'Good-for-nothing' (Lane-Poole, _The History of the
Moghul Emperors of Hindustan, illustrated by their Coins_, p. xxiii).
The two nephews of Jahângîr, the sons of Dâniyâl, slaughtered at this
time, had been, according to Herbert, baptized as Christians
(_Travels_, ed. 1677, pp. 74, 98). There are great discrepancies in
the accounts given by various authorities concerning the fate of
Bulâkî and the other victims of Shâh Jahân. A dissuasion of the
evidence would take too much apace, and must be inconclusive, the
fact being that the proceedings were secret, and pains were taken to
conceal the truth.
23. The dates of birth are, in Old Style:-Dârâ Shikoh, March 20,
1615; Sultan Shujâ, May 12, 1616; Aurangzêb, October 10, 1619; and
Murâd Baksh, not stated (Beale).
24. _Ante_, Chapter 2, text following [8]. The quotation is from Part
III, chap. 19, p. 35 of _The Travels of Monsieur de Thevenot, now
made English. London, Printed in the year MDCLXXXVII_. The author, in
his quotation, omits between 'that' and 'The Dutch' the clause 'This
indeed is certain that there are few Heathens and Parsis in respect
of Mahometans there, and these surpass all the other sects in power
as they do in number.'
25. During the reign of Akbar, many Christians, Portuguese, English,
and others, visited Agra, and a considerable number settled there. A
Roman Catholic church was built, the steeple of which was pulled down
by Shâh Jahân. The oldest inscriptions in the cemetery adjoining the
Roman Catholic cathedral are in the Armenian character. Three
Catholic cemeteries exist at or near Agra, namely
(l) the old Catholic graveyard at the village of Lashkarpur, dating
from the time of Akbar, who made a grant of the site about A.D. 1600.
This cemetery includes the Martyrs' Chapel, also known as the Chapel
of Father Santus (Santucci), which was erected in memory of Khoja
Mortenepus, an Armenian merchant, whose epitaph is dated 1611. The
next oldest tombstone, that of Father Emmanuel d' Anhaya, who died in
prison, bears the date August, 1633. Father Joseph de Castro, who
died at Lahore, on December 15, 1646, lies in the same building.
(2) A cemetery in Pâdrîtola, the native Christian ward of the city
behind the old cathedral. Father Tieffenthaler is buried there.
(3) A cemetery in an unnamed village, granted by Jahângîr, and
situated a mile north of Lashkarpur. An unpublished letter in the
British Museum shows that Jahângîr closed the churches in his
dominions in 1615. Notwithstanding, the College at Agra was founded
about 1617 by an Armenian who is known by his title Mirzâ Zul-
Qarnain. The acute persecution by Shâh Jahân occurred in 1631.
The artillery men in the Mogul service were not all European
Christians. Turks from the Ottoman Empire were freely employed. (See
_Ep. Ind._, ii, 132 note.)
The facts concerning the early history of Christianity in Northern
India have been imperfectly studied. In this note I have used chiefly
a pamphlet by Father H. Hosten, S. J., entitled _Jesuit Missionaries
in Northern India, &c._ (Catholic Orphan Press, Calcutta, 1907), and
the confused little book by Fanthome, _Reminiscences of Agra_ (2nd
ed., Thacker, Spink & Co., Calcutta, 1895). The Jesuit and Capuchin
Fathers are working at the subject and hope to elucidate it. From the
_A.S. Progress Rep. N. Circle, Muhammadan Monuments_, for 1911-12, p.
21, it appears that arrangements for the proper maintenance of the
Old Catholic cemetery are in hand.
The author's observations concerning the official relations of
Christianity in India do not apply at all to the very ancient
churches of the South (See _E.H.I._, 3rd ed., 1914, App. M, pp. 245-
7). Even in the north, the modern missionary operations may claim to
be 'independent of office'.
CHAPTER 53
Father Gregory's Notion of the Impediments to Conversion in India--
Inability of Europeans to speak Eastern Languages.
Father Gregory, the Roman Catholic priest, dined with us one evening,
and Major Godby took occasion to ask him at table, 'What progress our
religion was making among the people?'
'Progress!' said he; 'why, what progress can we ever hope to make
among a people who, the moment we begin to talk to them about the
miracles performed by Christ, begin to tell us of those infinitely
more wonderful performed by Krishna, who lifted a mountain upon his
little finger, as an umbrella, to defend his shepherdesses at
Govardhan from a shower of rain.[1] The Hindoos never doubt any part
of the miracles and prophecies of our scripture--they believe every
word of them; and the only thing that surprises them is that they
should be so much less wonderful than those of their own scriptures,
in which also they implicitly believe. Men who believe that the
histories of the wars and amours of Râm and Krishna, two of the
incarnations of Vishnu, were written some fifty thousand years before
these wars and amours actually took place upon the earth, would of
course easily believe in the fulfilment of any prophecy that might be
related to them out of any other book;[2] and, as to miracles, there
is absolutely nothing too extraordinary for their belief. If a
Christian of respectability were to tell a Hindoo that, to satisfy
some scruples of the Corinthians, St. Paul had brought the sun and
moon down upon the earth, and made them rebound off again into their
places, like tennis balls, without the slightest injury to any of the
three planets [_sic_], I do not think he would feel the slightest
doubt of the truth of it; but he would immediately be put in mind of
something still more extraordinary that Krishna did to amuse the
milkmaids, or to satisfy some sceptics of his day, and relate it with
all the _naïveté_ imaginable.
I saw at Agra Mirzâ Kâm Baksh, the eldest son of Sulaimân Shikoh, the
eldest son of the brother of the present Emperor. He had spent a
season with us at Jubbulpore, while prosecuting his claim to an
estate against the Râjâ of Rîwâ. The Emperor, Shâh Âlam, in his
flight before our troops from Bengal (1762), struck off the high road
to Delhi at Mirzapore, and came down to Rîwâ, where he found an
asylum during the season of the rains with the Rîwâ Râjâ, who
assigned for his residence the village of Makanpur.[3] His wife, the
Empress, was here delivered of a son, the present Emperor, of
Hindustân, Akbar Shâh;[4] and the Râjâ assigned to him and his heirs
for ever the fee simple of this village. As the members of this
family increased in geometrical ratio, under the new system, which
gave them plenty to eat with nothing to do, the Emperor had of late
been obliged to hunt round for little additions to his income; and in
his search he found that Makanpur gave name to a 'pargana', or little
district, of which it was the capital, and that a good deal of
merchandize passed through this district, and paid heavy dues to the
Râjâ. Nothing, he thought, would be lost by trying to get the whole
district instead of the village; and for this purpose he sent down
Kâm Baksh, the ablest man of the whole family, to urge and prosecute
his claim; but the Râjâ was a close, shrewd man, and not to be done
out of his revenue, and Kâm Baksh was obliged to return minus some
thousand rupees, which he had spent in attempting to keep up
appearances.
The best of us Europeans feel our deficiencies in conversation with
Muhammadans of high rank and education, when we are called upon to
talk upon subjects beyond the everyday occurrences of life. A
Muhammadan gentleman of education is tolerably acquainted with
astronomy, as it was taught by Ptolemy; with the logic and ethics of
Aristotle and Plato; with the works of Hippocrates and Galen, through
those of Avicenna, or, as they call him, Abû-Alîsîna;[5] and he is
very capable of talking upon all subjects of philosophy, literature,
science, and the arts, and very much inclined to do so; and of
understanding the nature of the improvements that have been made in
them in modern times. But, however capable we may feel of discussing
these subjects, or explaining these improvements in our own language,
we all feel ourselves very much at a loss when we attempt to do it in
theirs. Perhaps few Europeans have mixed and conversed more freely
with all classes than I have; and yet I feel myself sadly deficient
when I enter, as I often do, into discussions with Muhammadan
gentlemen of education upon the subject of the character of the
governments and institutions of different countries--their effects
upon the character and condition of the people; the arts and the
sciences; the faculties and operations of the human mind; and the
thousand other things which are subjects of everyday conversation
among educated and thinking; men in our country. I feel that they
could understand me quite well if I could find words for my ideas;
but these I cannot find, though their languages abound in them, nor
have I ever met the European gentleman who could. East Indians
can;[6] but they commonly want the ideas as much as we want the
language. The chief cause of this deficiency is the want of
sufficient intercourse with men in whose presence we should be
ashamed to appear ignorant--this is the great secret, and all should
know and acknowledge it.
We are not ashamed to convey our orders to our native servants in a
barbarous language. Military officers seldom speak to their 'sipâhîs'
(sepoys) and native officers, about anything but arms, accoutrements,
and drill; or to other natives about anything but the sports of the
field; and, as long as they are understood, they care not one straw
in what language they express themselves. The conversation of the
civil servants with their native officers takes sometimes a wider
range; but they have the same philosophical indifference as to the
language in which they attempt to convey their ideas; and I have
heard some of our highest diplomatic characters talking,[7] without
the slightest feeling of shame or embarrassment, to native princes on
the most ordinary subjects of everyday interest in a language which
no human being but themselves could understand. We shall remain the
same till some change of system inspire us with stronger motives to
please and conciliate the educated classes of the native community.
They may be reconciled, but they can never be charmed out of their
prejudices or the errors of their preconceived opinions by such
language as the European gentlemen are now in the habit of speaking
to them.[8] We must learn their language better, or we must teach
them our own, before we can venture to introduce among them those
free institutions which would oblige us to meet them on equal terms
at the bar, on the bench, and in the senate.[9] Perhaps two of the
best secular works that were ever written upon the facilities and
operations of the human mind, and the duties of men in their
relations with each other, are those of Imâm-ud-dîn Ghazzâlî, and
Nasîr-ud-dîn of Tûs.[10] Their idol was Plato, but their works are of
a more practical character than his, and less dry than those of
Aristotle.
I may here mention the following, among many instances that occur to
me, of the amusing mistakes into which Europeans are liable to fall
in their conversation with natives.
Mr. J. W------n, of the Bengal Civil Service, commonly known by the
name of Beau W------n,[11] was the Honourable Company's opium agent
at Patna, when I arrived at Dinapore to join my regiment in 1810.[12]
He had a splendid house, and lived in excellent style; and was never
so happy as when he had a dozen young men from the Dinapore
cantonments living with him. He complained that year, as I was told,
that he had not been able to save more than one hundred thousand
rupees that season out of his salary and commission upon the opium,
purchased by the Government from the cultivators.[13] The members of
the civil service, in the other branches of public service, were all
anxious to have it believed by their countrymen that they were well
acquainted with their duties, and able and willing to perform them;
but the Honourable Company's commercial agents were, on the contrary,
generally anxious to make their countrymen believe that they neither
knew nor cared anything about their duties, because they were ashamed
of them. They were sinecure posts for the drones of the service, or
for those who had great interest and no capacity.[14] Had any young
man made it appear that he really thought W------n knew or cared
anything about his duties, he would certainly never have been invited
to his house again; and if any one knew, certainly no one seemed to
know that he had any other duty than that of entertaining his guests.
No one ever spoke the native language so badly, because no man had
ever so little intercourse with the natives; and it was, I have been
told, to his ignorance of the native languages that his bosom friend,
Mr. P------st, owed his life on one occasion. W. sat by the sick-bed
of his friend with unwearied attention, for some days and nights,
after the doctors had declared his case entirely hopeless. He
proposed at last to try change of air, and take him on the river
Ganges. The doctors, thinking that he might as well die in his boat
on the river as in his house at Calcutta, consented to his taking him
on board. They got up as far as Hooghly, when P. said that he felt
better and thought he could eat something. What should it be? A
little roasted kid perhaps. The very thing that he was longing for!
W. went out upon the deck to give orders for the kid, that his friend
might not be disturbed by the gruff voice of the old 'khânsâmâ'
(butler). P. heard the conversation, however.
'Khânsâmâ', said the Beau W., 'you know that my friend Mr. P. is very
ill?'
'Yes, sir.'
'And that he has not eaten anything for a month?'
'A long time for a man to fast, sir.'
'Yes, Khânsâmâ, and his stomach is now become very delicate, and
could not stand anything strong.'
'Certainly not, sir.'
'Well, Khânsâmâ, then he has taken a fancy to a roasted _mare_'
('mâdiyân'), meaning a 'halwân', or kid.'[15]
'A roasted mare, sir?'
'Yes, Khânsâmâ, a roasted mare, which you must have nicely prepared.'
'What, the whole, sir?'
'Not the whole at one time; but have the whole ready as there is no
knowing what part he may like best.'
The old butter had heard of the Tartars eating their horses when in
robust health, but the idea of a sick man, not able to move in his
bed without assistance, taking a fancy to a roasted mare, quite
staggered him.
'But, sir, I may not be able to get such a thing as a mare at a
moment's notice; and if I get her she will be very dear.'
'Never mind, Khânsâmâ, get you the mare, cost what she will; if she
costs a thousand rupees my friend shall have her. He has taken a
fancy to the mare, and the mare he shall have, if she costs a
thousand rupees.'
The butter made his salaam, said he would do his best, and took his
leave, requesting that the boats might be kept at the bank of the
river till he came back.
W. went into his sick friend, who, with great difficulty, managed to
keep his countenance while he complained of the liberties old
servants were in the habit of taking with their masters. 'They think
themselves privileged', said W., 'to conjure up difficulties in the
way of everything that one wants to have done.'
'Yes', said P------st, 'we like to have old and faithful servants
about us, particularly when we are sick; but they are apt to take
liberties, which new ones will not.'
In about two hours the butler's approach was announced from the deck,
and W. walked out to scold him for his delay. The old gentleman was
coming down over the bank, followed by about eight men bearing the
four quarters of an old mare. The butler was very fat; and the proud
consciousness of having done his duty, and met his master's wishes in
a very difficult and important point, had made him a perfect
Falstaff. He marshalled his men in front of the cooking-boat, and
then came towards his master, who for some time stood amazed, and
unable to speak. At last he roared out, 'And what the devil have you
here?'
'Why, the _mare_ that the sick gentleman took a fancy for; and dear
enough she has cost me; not a farthing less than two hundred rupees
would the fellow take for his mare.'
P------st could contain himself no longer; he burst into an
immoderate fit of laughter, during which the abscess in his liver
burst into the intestines, and he felt himself relieved, as if by
enchantment. The mistake was rectified--he got his kid; and in ten
days he was taken back to Calcutta a sound man, to the great
astonishment of all the doctors.
During the first campaign against Nepâl, in 1815, Colonel, now Major-
General, O.H., who commanded the------Regiment, N. I.,[16] had to
march with his regiment through the town of Darbhanga, the capital of
the Râjâ, who came to pay his respects to him. He brought a number of
presents, but the colonel, a high-minded, amiable man, never took
anything himself, nor suffered any person in his camp to do so, in
the districts they passed through without paying for it. He politely
declined to take any of the presents; but said that he 'had heard
that Darbhanga produced _crows_ ("kauwâ"), and should be glad to get
some of them if the Râjâ could spare them,'--meaning coffee, or
'kahwâ'.
The Râjâ stared, and said that certainly they had abundance of crows
in Darbhanga; but he thought they were equally abundant in all parts
of India.
'Quite the contrary, Râjâ Sâhib, I assure you,' said the colonel;
'there is not such a thing as a crow to be found in any part of the
Company's dominions that I have seen, and I have been all over them.'
'Very strange!' said the Râjâ, turning round to his followers.
'Yes,' replied they,' it is very strange, Râjâ Sâhib; but such is
your 'ikbâl' (good fortune), that everything thrives under it; and,
if the colonel should wish to have a few crows, we could easily
collect them for him.'
'If', said the colonel, greatly delighted, 'you could provide us with
a few of these crows, we should really feel very much obliged to you;
for we have a long and cold campaign before us among the bleak hills
of Nepal; and we are all fond of crows.'
'Indeed,' returned the Râjâ, 'I shall be happy to send you as many as
you wish.' ('Much' and 'many' are expressed by the same term.)
'Then we should be glad to have two or three bags full, if it would
not be robbing you.'
'Not in the least,' said the Râjâ; 'I will go home and order them to
be collected immediately.'
In the evening, as the officers, with the colonel at their head, were
sitting down to dinner, a man came up to announce the Râjâ's present.
Three fine large bags were brought in, and the colonel requested that
one might be opened immediately. It was opened accordingly, and the
mess butler ('khansâmân') drew out by the legs a fine old crow. The
colonel immediately saw the mistake, and laughed as heartily as the
rest at the result. A polite message was sent to the Râjâ, requesting
that he would excuse his having made it--for he had had half a dozen
men out shooting crows all day with their matchlocks. Few Europeans
spoke the language better than General ------, and I do not believe
that one European in a thousand, at this very moment, makes any
difference, or knows any difference, in the sound of the two terms.
Kâm Baksh had one sister married to the King of Oudh, and another to
Mirzâ Salîm, the younger son of the Emperor. Mirzâ Salîm and his wife
could not agree, and a separation took place, and she went to reside
with her sister, the Queen of Oudh. The King saw her frequently; and,
finding her more beautiful than his wife, he demanded her also in
marriage from her father, who resided at Lucknow, the capital of
Oudh, on a pension of five thousand rupees a month from the King. He
would not consent, and demanded his daughter; the King, finding her
willing to share his bed and board with her sister, would not give
her up.[17] The father got his old friend, Colonel Gardiner, who had
married a Muhammadan woman of rank, to come down and plead his cause.
The King gave up the young woman, but at the same time stopped the
father's pension, and ordered him and all his family out of his
dominions. He set out with Colonel Gardiner and his daughter, on his
road to Delhi, through Kâsganj, the residence of the colonel, who was
one day recommending the prince to seek consolation for the loss of
his pension in the proud recollection of having saved the honour of
the _house of Tamerlane_, when news was brought to them that the
daughter had run off from camp with his (Colonel Gardiner's) son
James, who had accompanied him to Lucknow. The prince and the colonel
mounted their horses, and rode after him; but they were so much
heavier and older than the young ones, that they soon gave up the
chase in despair. Sulaimân Shikoh insisted upon the colonel
immediately fighting him, after the fashion of the English, with
swords or pistols, but was soon persuaded that the honour of the
house of Tîmûr would be much better preserved by allowing the
offending parties to marry ![18] The King of Oudh was delighted to
find that the old man had been so punished; and the Queen no less so
to find herself so suddenly and unexpectedly relieved from all dread
of her sister's return. All parties wrote to my friend Kâm Baksh, who
was then at Jubbulpore;[19] and he came off with their letters to me
to ask whether I thought the incident might not be turned to account
in getting the pension for his father restored.[20]
Notes:
1. Govardhan is a very sacred place of pilgrimage, full of temples,
situated in the Mathurâ (Muttra) district, sixteen miles west of
Mathurâ, Regulation V of 1826 annexed Govardhan to the Agra district.
In 1832 Mathurâ was made the head-quarters of a new district,
Govardhan and other territory being transferred from Agra.
2. The Purânas, even when narrating history after a fashion, are cast
in the form of prophecies. The Bhâgavat Purâna is especially devoted
to the legends of Krishna. The Hindî version of the 10th Book
(_skandha_) is known as the 'Prêm Sâgar', or 'Ocean of Love', and is,
perhaps, the most wearisome book in the world.
3. This flight occurred during the struggles following the battle of
Plassy in 1757, which were terminated by the battle of Buxar in 1764,
and the grant to the East India Company of the civil administration
of Bengal, Bihâr and Orissa in the following year. Shâh Âlam bore, in
weakness and misery, the burden of the imperial title from 1759 to
1806. From 1765 to 1771 he was the dependent of the English at
Allahabad. From 1771 to 1803 he was usually under the control of
Marâthâ chiefs, and from the time of Lord Lake's entry into Delhi, in
1803 he became simply a prisoner of the British Government. His
successors occupied the same position. In 1788 he was barbarously
blinded by the Rohilla chief, Ghulâm Kâdir.
4. Akbar II. His position as Emperor was purely titular.
5. The name is printed as Booalee Shina in the original edition. His
full designation is Abû Alî al-Husain ibn Abdullah ibn Sînâ, which
means 'that Sînâ was his grandfather. Avicenna is a corruption of
either Abû Sînâ or Ibn Sînâ. He lived a strenuous, passionate life,
but found time to compose about a hundred treatises on medicine and
almost every subject known to Arabian science. He died in A.D. 1037.
A good biography of him will be found in _Encyclo. Brit._, 11th ed.,
1910.
6. Otherwise called Eurasians, or, according to the latest official
decree, Anglo-Indians.
7. 'Diplomatic characters' would now be described as officers of the
Political Department.
8. These remarks of the author should help to dispel the common
delusion that the English officials of the olden time spoke the
Indian languages better than their more highly trained successors.
9. The author wrote these words at the moment of the inauguration by
Lord William Bentinck and Macaulay of the new policy which
established English as the official language of India, and the
vehicle for the higher instruction of its people, as enunciated in
the resolution dated 7th March, 1835, and described by Boulger in
_Lord William Bentinck_ (Rulers of India, 1897), chap. 8. The
decision then formed and acted on alone rendered possible the
employment of natives of India in the higher branches of the
administration. Such employment has gradually year by year increased,
and certainly will further increase, at least up to the extreme limit
of safety. Indians now (1914) occupy seats in the Council of India in
London, and in the Executive and Legislative Councils of the
Governor-General, Provincial Governors, and Lieutenant-Governors.
They hold most of the judicial appointments and fill many responsible
executive offices.
10. Khojah Nasîr-ud-dîn of Tûs in Persia was a great astronomer,
philosopher, and mathematician in the thirteenth century. The
author's Imâm-ud-dîn Ghazzâlî is intended for Abû Hâmid Imâm al
Ghazzâlî, one of the most famous of Musulmân doctors. He was born at
Tûs, the modern Mashhad (Meshed) in Khurâsân, and died in A.D. 1111.
His works are numerous. One is entitled _The Ruin of Philosophies_,
and another, the most celebrated, is _The Resuscitation of Religious
Sciences_ (F. J. Arbuthnot, _A Manual of Arabian History and
Literature_, London, 1890). These authors are again referred to in a
subsequent chapter. I am not able to judge the propriety of Sleeman's
enthusiastic praise.
11. The gentleman referred to was Mr. John Wilton, who was appointed
to the service in 1775.
12. The cantonments at Dinapore (properly Dânâpur) are ten miles
distant from the great city of Patna.
13. The rupee was worth more than two shillings in 1810. The
remuneration of high officials by commission has been long abolished.
14. There used to be two opium agents, one at Patna, and the other at
Ghâzîpur, who administered the Opium Department under the control of
the Board of Revenue in Calcutta. In deference to the demands of the
Chinese Government and of public opinion in England, the Agency at
Ghâzîpur has been closed, and the Government of India is withdrawing
gradually from the opium trade. Such lucrative sinecures as those
described in the text have long ceased to exist.
15. These Persian words would not now be used in orders to servants.
16. This officer was Sir Joseph O'Halloran, K.C.B., attached to the
18th Regiment, N.I. He became a Lieutenant-Colonel on June 4, 1814,
and Major-General on January 10, 1837. He is mentioned in
_Ramaseeana_ (p 59) as Brigadier-General commanding the Sâgar
Division.
17. The King's demand was improper and illegal. The Muhammadan law,
like the Jewish (Leviticus xviii, 18), prohibits a man from being
married to two sisters at once. 'Ye are also forbidden to take to
wife two sisters; except what is already past: for God is gracious
and merciful' (_Korân_, chap. iv). Compare the ruling in 'Mishkât-ul-
Masâbih', Book XIII, chap. v, Part II (Matthews, vol. ii, p. 94).
18. The colonel's son has succeeded to his father's estates, and he
and his wife are, I believe, very happy together. [W. H. S.] Such an
incident would, of course, be now inconceivable. The family name is
also spelled Gardner. The romantic history of the Gardners is
summarized in the appendix to _A Particular Account of the European
Military Adventures of Hindustan, from 1784 to 1803_; compiled by
Herbert Compton: London, 1892.
19. _Ante_, Chapter 53 text between [2] and [3].
20. Kâsganj, the residence of Colonel Gardner, is in the Etah
district of the United Provinces. In 1911 the population was 16,429.
CHAPTER 54
Fathpur-Sîkrî--The Emperor Akbar's Pilgrimage--Birth of Jahângîr.
On the 6th January we left Agra, which soon after became the
residence of the Governor of the North-Western Provinces, Sir Charles
Metcalfe.[1] It was, when I was there, the residence of a civil
commissioner, a judge, a magistrate, a collector of land revenue, a
collector of customs, and all their assistants and establishments. A
brigadier commands the station, which contained a park of artillery,
one regiment of European and four regiments of native infantry.[2]
Near the artillery practice-ground, we passed the tomb of Jodh Bâî,
the wife of the Emperor Akbar, and the mother of Jahângîr. She was of
Râjpût caste, daughter of the Hindoo chief of Jodhpur, a very
beautiful, and, it is said, a very amiable woman.[3] The Mogul
Emperors, though Muhammadans, were then in the habit of taking their
wives from among the Râjpût princes of the country, with a view to
secure their allegiance. The tomb itself is in ruins, having only
part of the dome standing, and the walls and magnificent gateway that
at one time surrounded it have been all taken away and sold by a
thrifty Government, or appropriated to purposes of more practical
utility.[4]
I have heard many Muhammadans say that they could trace the decline
of their empire in Hindustan to the loss of the Râjpût blood in the
veins of their princes.[5] 'Better blood' than that of the Râjpûts of
India certainly never flowed in the veins of any human beings; or,
what is the same thing, no blood was ever believed to be finer by the
people themselves and those they had to deal with. The difference is
all in the imagination, and the imagination is all-powerful with
nations as with individuals. The Britons thought their blood the
finest in the world till they were conquered by the Romans, the
Picts, the Scots, and the Saxons. The Saxons thought theirs the
finest in the world till they were conquered by the Danes and the
Normans. This is the history of the human race. The quality of the
blood of a whole people has depended often upon the fate of a battle,
which in the ancient world doomed the vanquished to the hammer; and
the hammer changed the blood of those sold by it from generation to
generation. How many Norman robbers got their blood ennobled, and how
many Saxon nobles got theirs plebeianized by the Battle of Hastings;
and how difficult it would be for any of us to say from which we
descended--the Britons or the Saxons, the Danes or the Normans; or in
what particular action our ancestors were the victors or the
vanquished, and became ennobled or plebeianized by the thousand
accidents which influence the fate of battles. A series of successful
aggressions upon their neighbours will commonly give a nation a
notion that they are superior in courage; and pride will make them
attribute this superiority to blood--that is, to an old date. This
was, perhaps, never more exemplified than in the case of the Gûrkhas
of Nepal, a small diminutive race of men not unlike the Huns, but
certainly as brave as any men can possibly be. A Gûrkha thought
himself equal to any four other men of the hills, though they were
all much stronger; just as a Dane thought himself equal to four
Saxons at one time in Britain. The other men of the hills began to
think that he really was so, and could not stand before him.[6]
We passed many wells from which the people were watering their
fields, and found those which yielded a brackish water were
considered to be much more valuable for irrigation than those which
yielded sweet water. It is the same in the valley of the Nerbudda,
but brackish water does not suit some soils and some crops. On the
8th we reached Fathpur Sîkrî, which lies about twenty-four miles from
Agra, and stands upon the back of a narrow range of sandstone hills,
rising abruptly from the alluvial plains to the highest, about one
hundred feet, and extends three miles north-north-east and south-
south-west. This place owes its celebrity to a Muhammadan saint, the
Shaikh Salîm of Chisht, a town in Persia, who owed his to the
following circumstance:
The Emperor Akbar's sons had all died in infancy, and he made a
pilgrimage to the shrine of the celebrated Muîn-ud-dîn of Chisht, at
Ajmêr. He and his family went all the way on foot at the rate of
three 'kôs', or four miles, a day, a distance of about three hundred
and fifty miles. 'Kanâts', or cloth walls, were raised on each side
of the road, carpets spread over it, and high towers of burnt bricks
erected at every stage, to mark the places where he rested. On
reaching the shrine he made a supplication to the saint, who at night
appeared to him in his sleep, and recommended him to go and entreat
the intercession of a very holy old man, who lived a secluded life
upon the top of the little range of hills at Sîkrî. He went
accordingly, and was assured by the old man, then ninety-six years of
age, that the Empress Jodh Bâî, the daughter of a Hindoo prince,
would be delivered of a son, who would live to a good old age. She
was then pregnant, and remained in the vicinity of the old man's
hermitage till her confinement, which took place 31st of August,
1569. The infant was called after the hermit, Mirzâ Salîm, and became
in time Emperor of Hindostan, under the name of Jahângîr.[7] It was
to this Emperor Jahângîr that Sir Thomas Roe, the ambassador, was
sent from the English Court.[8] Akbar, in order to secure to himself,
his family, and his people, the advantage of the continued
intercessions of so holy a man, took up his residence at Sîkrî, and
covered the hill with magnificent buildings for himself, his
courtiers, and his public establishments.[9]
The quadrangle, which contains the mosque on the west side, and tomb
of the old hermit in the centre, was completed in the year 1578, six
years before his death; and is, perhaps, one of the finest in the
world. It is five hundred and seventy-five feet square, and
surrounded by a high wall, with a magnificent cloister all around
within.[10] On the outside is a magnificent gateway, at the top of a
noble flight of steps twenty-four feet high. The whole gateway is one
hundred and twenty feet in height, and the same in breadth, and
presents beyond the wall five sides of an octagon, of which the front
face is eighty feet wide. The arch in the centre of this space is
sixty feet high by forty wide.[11] This gateway is no doubt extremely
grand and beautiful; but what strikes one most is the disproportion
between the thing wanted and the thing provided--there seems to be
something quite preposterous in forming so enormous an entrance for a
poor diminutive man to walk through--and walk he must, unless carried
through on men's shoulders; for neither elephant, horse, nor bullock
could ascend over the flight of steps. In all these places the
staircases, on the contrary, are as disproportionately small; they
look as if they were made for rats to crawl through, while the
gateways seem as if they were made for ships to sail under.[12] One
of the most interesting sights was the immense swarms of swallows
flying round the thick bed of nests that occupy the apex of this
arch, and, to the spectators below, they look precisely like swarm of
bees round a large honeycomb. I quoted a passage in the Korân in
praise of the swallows, and asked the guardians of the place whether
they did not think themselves happy in having such swarms of sacred
birds over their heads all day long. 'Not at all,' said they; 'they
oblige us to sweep the gateway ten times a day; but there is no
getting at their nests, or we should soon get rid of them.' They then
told me that the sacred bird of the Korân was the 'abâbîl', or large
black swallow, and not the 'partâdîl', a little piebald thing of no
religious merit whatever.[13] On the right side of the entrance is
engraven on stone in large letters, standing out in bas-relief, the
following passage in Arabic: 'Jesus, on whom be peace, has said, "The
word is merely a bridge; you are to pass over it, and not to build
your dwellings upon it".' Where this saying of Christ is to be found
I know not, nor has any Muhammadan yet been able to tell me; but the
quoting of such a passage, in such a place, is a proof of the absence
of all bigotry on the part of Akbar.[14]
The tomb of Shaikh Salîm, the hermit, is a very beautiful little
building, in the centre of the quadrangle.[15] The man who guards it
told me that the Jâts, while they reigned, robbed this tomb, as well
as those at Agra, of some of the most beautiful and valuable portion
of the mosaic work.[16] 'But,' said he, 'they were well plundered in
their turn by your troops at Bharatpur; retribution always follows
the wicked sooner or later.'[17] He showed us the little roof of
stone tiles, close to the original little dingy mosque of the old
hermit, where the Empress gave birth to Jahângîr;[18] and told us
that she was a very sensible woman, whose counsels had great weight
with the Emperor.[19] 'His majesty's only fault was', he said, 'an
inclination to learn the art of magic, which was taught him by an old
Hindoo religious mendicant,' whose apartment near the palace he
pointed out to us.
'Fortunately,' said our cicerone, 'the fellow died before the Emperor
had learnt enough to practise the art without his aid.'
Shaikh Salîm had, he declared, gone more than twenty times on
pilgrimage to the tomb of the holy prophet; and was not much pleased
to have his repose so much disturbed by the noise and bustle of the
imperial court. At last, Akbar wanted to surround the hill with
regular fortifications, and the Shaikh could stand it no longer.[20]
'Either you or I must leave this hill,' said he to the Emperor; 'if
the efficacy of my prayers is no longer to be relied upon, let me
depart in peace.' 'If it be _your majesty's_ will,' replied the
Emperor, 'that one should go, let it be your slave, I pray.' The old
story: 'There is nothing like relying upon the efficacy of our
prayers,' say the priests, 'Nothing like relying upon that of our
sharp swords,' say the soldiers; and, as nations advance from
barbarism, they generally contrive to divide between them the surplus
produce of the land and labour of society.
The old hermit consented to remain, and pointed out Agra as a place
which he thought would answer the Emperor's purpose extremely well.
Agra, then an unpeopled waste, soon became a city, and Fathpur-Sîkrî
was deserted.[21] Cities which, like this, are maintained by the
public establishments that attend and surround the courts of
sovereign princes, must always, like this, become deserted when these
sovereigns change their resting-places. To the history of the rise
and progress, decline and fall, of how many cities is this the key?