In the year 1829, while I held the civil charge of the district of

Jubbulpore, in this valley of the Nerbudda, I caused an estimate to

be made of the public works of utility and ornament it contained. The

population of the district at that time amounted to 500,000 souls,

distributed among 4,053 occupied towns, villages, and hamlets. There

were 1,000 villages more which had formerly been occupied, but were

then deserted. There were 2,288 tanks, 209 'bâolîs', or large wells

with flights of steps extending from the top down to the water when

in its lowest stage; 1,560 wells lined with brick and stone, cemented

with lime, but without stairs; 860 Hindoo temples, and 22 Muhammadan

mosques. The estimated cost of these works in grain at the present

price, had the labour been paid in kind at the ordinary rate, was

R86,66,043 (866,604 pounds sterling).[7]

The labourer was estimated to be paid at the rate of about two-thirds

the quantity of corn he would get in England if paid in kind, and

corn sells here at about one-third the price it fetches in average

seasons in England. In Europe, therefore, these works, supposing the

labour equally efficient, would have cost at least four times the sum

here estimated; and such works formed by private individuals for the

public good, without any view whatever to return in profits, indicate

a very high degree of _public spirit_.

The whole annual rent of the lands of this district amounts to

R650,000 (65,000 pounds sterling), that is, 500,000 demandable by the

Government, and 150,000 by those who hold the lands at lease

immediately under Government, over and above what may be considered

as the profits of their stock as farmers. These works must,

therefore, have cost about thirteen times the amount of the annual

rent of the whole of the lands of the district, or the whole annual

rent for above thirteen years.[8]

But I have not included the groves of mango and tamarind, and other

fine trees with which the district abounds. Two-thirds of the towns

and villages are imbedded in fine groves of these trees, mixed with

the banyan (_Ficus Indica_) and the pîpal (_Ficus religiosa_). I am

sorry they were not numbered; but I should estimate them at three

thousand, and the outlay upon a mango grove is, on an average, about

four hundred rupees.

The groves of fruit-trees planted by individuals for the use of the

public, without any view to a return in profit, would in this

district, according to this estimate, have cost twelve lâkhs

[12,00,000] more, or about twice the amount of the annual rent of the

whole of the lands. It should be remarked that the whole of these

works had been formed under former governments. Ours was established

in the year 1817.[9]

The Upper Doâb and the Delhi Territories were denuded of their trees

in the wars that attended the decline and fall of the Muhammadan

empire, and the rise and progress of the Sikhs, Jâts, and Marâthâs in

that quarter. These lawless freebooters soon swept all the groves

from the face of every country they occupied with their troops, and

they never attempted to renew them or encourage the renewal. We have

not been much more sparing; and the finest groves of fruit-trees have

everywhere been recklessly swept down by our barrack-masters to

furnish fuel for their brick-kilns; and I am afraid little or no

encouragement is given for planting others to supply their place in

those parts of India where they are most wanted.

We have a regulation authorizing the lessee of a village to plant a

grove in his grounds, but where the settlements of the land-revenue

have been for short periods, as in all Upper and Central India, this

authority is by no means sufficient to induce them to invest their

property in such works. It gives no sufficient guarantee that the

lessee for the next settlement shall respect a grant made by his

predecessors; and every grove of mango-trees requires outlay and care

for at least ten years. Though a man destines the fruit, the shade,

and the water for the use of the public, he requires to feel that it

will be held for the public in his name, and by his children and

descendants, and never be exclusively appropriated by any man in

power for his own use.

If the lands were still to belong to the lessee of the estate under

Government, and the trees only to the planter and his heirs, he to

whom the land belonged might very soon render the property in the

trees of no value to the planter or his heirs.[10]

If Government wishes the Upper Doâb, the Delhi, Mathurâ, and Agra

districts again enriched and embellished with mango groves, they will

not delay to convey this feeling to the hundreds, nay, thousands, who

would be willing to plant them upon a single guarantee that the lands

upon which the trees stand shall be considered to belong to them and

their heirs as long as these trees stand upon them.[11] That the

land, the shade, the fruit, and the water will be left to the free

enjoyment of the public we may take for granted, since the good which

the planter's soul is to derive from such a work in the next world

must depend upon their being so; and all that is required to be

stipulated in such grants is that mango tamarind, pîpal, or 'bar'

(i.e. banyan) trees, at the rate of twenty-five the English acre,

shall be planted and kept up in every piece of land granted for the

purpose; and that a well of 'pakkâ' masonry shall be made for the

purpose of watering them, in the smallest, as well as in the largest,

piece of ground granted, and kept always in repair.

If the grantee fulfil the conditions, he ought, in order to cover

part of the expense, to be permitted to till the land under the trees

till they grow to maturity and yield their fruit; if he fails, the

lands, having been declared liable to resumption, should be resumed.

The person soliciting such grants should be required to certify in

his application that he had already obtained the sanction of the

present lessee of the village in which he wishes to have his grove,

and for this sanction he would, of course, have to pay the full value

of the land for the period of his lease. When his lease expires, the

land in which the grove is planted would be excluded from the

assessment; and when it is considered that every good grove must cost

the planter more than fifty times the annual rent of the land,

Government may be satisfied that they secure the advantage to their

people at a very cheap rate.[12]

Over and above the advantage of fruit, water, and shade for the

public, these groves tend much to secure the districts that are well

studded with them from the dreadful calamities that in India always

attend upon deficient falls of rain in due season. They attract the

clouds, and make them deposit their stores in districts that would

not otherwise be blessed with them; and hot and dry countries denuded

of their trees, and by that means deprived of a great portion of that

moisture to which they had been accustomed, and which they require to

support vegetation, soon become dreary and arid wastes. The lighter

particles, which formed the richest portion of their soil, blow off,

and leave only the heavy arenaceous portion; and hence, perhaps,

those sandy deserts in which are often to be found the signs of a

population once very dense.

In the Mauritius, the rivers were found to be diminishing under the

rapid disappearance of the woods in the interior, when Government had

recourse to the measure of preventing further depredations, and they

soon recovered their size.

The clouds brought up from the southern ocean by the south-east trade

wind are attracted, as they pass over the island, by the forests in

the interior, and made to drop their stores in daily refreshing

showers. In many other parts of the world governments have now become

aware of this mysterious provision of nature; and have adopted

measures to take advantage of it for the benefit of the people; and

the dreadful sufferings to which the people of those of our

districts, which have been the most denuded of their trees, have been

of late years exposed from the want of rain in due season, may,

perhaps, induce our Indian Government to turn its thoughts to the

subject.[13]

The province of Mâlwâ, which is bordered by the Nerbudda on the

south, Gujarât on the west, Râjputâna on the north, and Allahabad on

the east, is said never to have been visited by a famine; and this

exemption from so great a calamity must arise chiefly from its being

so well studded with hills and groves. The natives have a couplet,

which, like all good couplets on rural subjects, is attributed to

Sahadêo, one of the five demigod brothers of the Mahâbhârata, to this

effect: 'If it does not thunder on such a night, you, father, must go

to Mâlwâ, and I to Gujarât', meaning, 'The rains will fail us here,

and we must go to those quarters where they never fail'[14]

Notes:

1. The Archaeological Survey is engaged in unceasing battle with the

pîpal seedlings.

2. This proposition is too general.

3. The Hiliyâ, or Haliyâ, Pass is near the town of the same name in

the Mirzâpur district, thirty-one miles south-west of Mirzâpur. A

bilingual inscription, in English and Hindî, on a large slab on the

bank of the river, records the capture of the fort of Bhôpârî in 1811

by the 21st Regiment Native Infantry. The tank described in the text

is at Dibhôr, twelve miles south of Haliyâ, and is 430 feet long by

352 broad. The full name of the builder is Srîmân Nâyak Mânmôr, who

was the head of the Banjâra merchants of Mirzâpur. The inscription on

his temple is dated 23 February, 1825, A.D. 'I suppose', remarks

Cunningham, 'that the vagrant instinct of the old Banjâra preferred a

jungle site. No doubt he got the ground cheap; and from this vantage

point he was able to supply Mirzâpur with both wood and charcoal.'

(_A.S.R._, vol. xxi, pp. 121-5, pl. xxxi.)

4. The new road passes through the Katrâ Pass. The pass via Dibhôr

and Haliyâ, which the author calls the Hiliyâ Pass, is properly

called the Kerahi (Kerâi) Pass. Both old and new roads are now little

used. The construction of railways has altogether changed the course

of trade, and Cawnpore has risen on the ruins of Mirzâpur. Lalû,

Nâyak's 'grandson, died in comparative obscurity some years ago, and

only a few female relatives remain to represent the family--a

striking example, if one were needed, of the instability of Oriental

fortunes.' (_A.S.R._, vol. xxi, p. 124, quoting _Gazetteer_.)

5. Within a few miles of Gosalpur, at the village of Talwâ, which

stands upon the old high road leading to Mirzapore, is a still more

magnificent tank with one of the most beautiful temples in India, all

executed two or three generations ago at the expense of two or three

lakhs of rupees for the benefit of the public, by a very worthy man,

who became rich in the service of the former Government. His

descendants, all save one, now follow the plough; and that one has a

small rent-free village held on condition of appropriating the rents

to the repair of the tank. [W. H. S.]

The name Talwâ is only the rustic way of pronouncing 'tâl', meaning

the tank. Gosalpur is nineteen miles north-east of Jabalpur. Two or

three lakhs of rupees were then (in eighteenth century) worth about

22,000 pounds to 33,000 pounds sterling.

6. India, except on the frontiers, has been at peace since 1858, and

much revenue has been spent on the duties of peace, but the power of

combination for public objects has developed among the people to a

less degree than the author seems to have expected, though some

development undoubtedly has taken place.

7. In the original edition these statistics are given in words.

Figures have been used in this edition as being more readily grasped.

The _Central Provinces Gazetteer_ (1870) gives the following figures:

Area of district, 4,261 square miles; population, 620,201; villages,

2,707; wells in use, 5,515. The _Gazetteer_ figures apparently

include wells of all kinds, and do not reckon hamlets separately.

Wells are, of course, an absolute necessity, and their construction

could not be avoided in a country occupied by a fixed population. The

number of temples and mosques was very small for so large a

population. Many of the tanks, too, are indispensably necessary for

watering the cattle employed in agriculture. The 'bâolîs' may fairly

be reckoned as the fruit of the public spirit of individuals. This

chapter is a reprint of a paper entitled 'On the Public Spirit of the

Hindoos'. _See_ Bibliography, _ante_, No. 10.

8. The _C.P. Gazetteer_ (1870) states that in 1868-9 the land-revenue

was R5,70,434, as compared with R500,000 in the author's time. It has

since been largely enhanced. The lessees (zamîndârs) have now become

proprietors, and the land-revenue, according to the rule in force for

many years past, should not exceed half the estimated profit rental.

The early settlements were made in accordance with the theory of

native Governments that the land is the property of the State, and

that the lessees are entitled only to subsistence, with a small

percentage as payment for the trouble of collection from the actual

cultivators. The author's estimate gives the zamîndârs only 15/80ths,

or 3/16ths of the profit rental.

9. The people of the Jubbulpore district must have been very

different from those of the rest of India if they planted their

groves solely for the public benefit. The editor has never known the

fruit, not to mention the timber and firewood, of a grove to be

available for the use of the general public. Universal custom allows

all comers to use the shade of any established grove, but the fruit

is always jealousy guarded and gathered by the owners. Even one tree

is often the property of many sharing, and disputes about the

division of mangoes and other fruits are extremely frequent. The

framing of a correct record of rights in trees is one of the most

embarrassing tasks of a revenue officer.

10. Under the modern System it often happens that the land belongs to

one party, and the trees to another. Disputes, of course, occur, but,

as a rule, the rights of the owner of the trees are not interfered

with by the owner of the land. In thousands of such cases both

parties exercise their rights without friction.

11. This sentence shows clearly how remote from the author's mind was

the idea of private property in land in India. Government has long

since parted with the power of giving grants such as the author

recommends. The upper Doâb districts of Meerut, Muzaffarnagar, and

Sahâranpur now have plenty of groves.

12. The cost of establishing a grove varies much according to

circumstances, of which the distance of water from the surface is the

most important. Where water is distant, the cost of constructing and

working a well is very high. Where water is near, these items of

expense are small, because the roots of the trees soon reach a moist

stratum, and can dispense with irrigation.

13. The author, in his appreciation of the value of arboriculture and

forest conservancy, was far in advance of his Anglo-Indian

contemporaries. A modern meteorologist might object to some of his

phraseology, but the substance of his remarks is quite sound. His

statement of the ways in which trees benefit climate is incomplete.

One important function performed by the roots of trees is the raising

of water from the depths below the surface, to be dispersed by the

leaves in the form of vapour. Trees act beneficially in many other

ways also, which it would be tedious to specify.

The Indian Government long remained blind to the importance of the

duty of saving the country from denudation. The first forest

conservancy establishments were organized in 1852 for Madras and

Burma, and, by Act vii of 1865, the Forest Department was established

on a legal basis. Its operations have since been largely extended,

and trained foresters are now sent out each year to India. The

Department at the present time controls many thousand square miles of

forest. The reader may consult the article 'Forests' in Balfour,

_Cyclopaedia_, 3rd ed., and sundry official reports for further

details.

A yearly grant for arboriculture is now made to every district.

Thousands of miles of roads have been lined with trees, and

multitudes of groves have been established by both Government and

private individuals. The author was himself a great tree-planter. In

a letter dated 15th December, 1844, he describes the avenue which he

had planted along the road from Maihar to Jubbulpore in 1829 and

1830, and another, eighty-six miles long, from Jhânsî Ghât on the

Nerbudda to Châka. The trees planted were banyan, pîpal, mango,

tamarind, and jâman (_Eugenia jambolana_). He remarks that these

trees will last for centuries.

14. 'In 1899-1900 Mâlwâ suffered from a severe famine, such as had

not visited this favoured spot for more than thirty years. The people

were unused to, and quite unprepared for, this calamity, the distress

being aggravated by the great influx of immigrants from Râjputâna,

who had hitherto always been sure of relief in this region, of which

the fertility is proverbial. In 1903 a new calamity appeared in the

shape of plague, which has seriously reduced the agricultural

population in some districts' (_I.G._, 1908, xvii. 105).

CHAPTER 63

Cities and Towns, formed by Public Establishments, disappear as

Sovereigns and Governors change their Abodes.

On the 17th and 18th,[1] we went on twenty miles to Palwal,[2] which

stands upon an immense mound, in some places a hundred feet high,

formed entirely of the debris of old buildings. There are an immense

number of fine brick buildings in ruins, but not one of brick or

stone at present inhabited. The place was once evidently under the

former government the seat of some great public establishments,

which, with their followers and dependants, constituted almost the

entire population. The occasion which keeps such establishments at a

place no sooner passes away than the place is deserted and goes to

ruin as a matter of course. Such is the history of Nineveh,

Babylon,[3] and all cities which have owed their origin and support

entirely to the public establishments of the sovereign--any

revolution that changed the seat of government depopulated a city.

Sir Thomas Roe, the ambassador of James the First of England to the

court of Delhi during the reign of Jahângîr, passing through some of

the old capital cities of Western India, then deserted and in ruins,

writes to the Archbishop of Canterbury: 'I know not by what policy

the Emperors seek the ruin of all the ancient cities which were nobly

built, but now be desolate and in rubbish. It must arise from a wish

to destroy all the ancient cities in order that there might appear

nothing great to have existed before their time.'[4] But these

cities, like all which are supported in the same manner, by the

residence of a court and its establishments, become deserted as the

seat of dominion is changed. Nineveh, built by Ninus out of the

spoils he brought back from the wide range of his conquests,

continued to be the residence of the court and the principal seat of

its military establishments for thirteen centuries to the reign of

Sardanapalus. During the whole of this time it was the practice of

the sovereigns to collect from all the provinces of the empire their

respective quotas of troops, and to canton them within the city for

one year, at the expiration of which they were relieved by fresh

troops.' In the last years of Sardanapalus, four provinces of the

empire, Media, Persia, Babylonia, and Arabia, are said to have

furnished a quota of four hundred thousand; and, in the rebellion

which closed his reign, these troops were often beaten by those from

the other provinces of the empire, which could not have been much

less in number. The successful rebel, Arbaces, transferred the court

and his own appendages to its capital, and Nineveh became deserted,

and for more than eighteen centuries lost to the civilized world.[5]

Babylon in the same manner; and Susa, Ecbatana, Persepolis, and

Seleucia, all, one after the other, became deserted as sovereigns

changed their residence, and with it the seats of their public

establishments, which alone supported them. Thus Thebes became

deserted for Memphis, Memphis for Alexandria, and Alexandria for

Cairo, as the sovereigns of Egypt changed theirs; and thus it has

always been in India, where cities have been almost all founded on

the same bases--the residence of princes, and their public

establishments, civil, military, or ecclesiastical.

The city of Kanauj, on the Ganges, when conquered by Mahmûd of

Ghaznî,[6] is stated by the historians of the conqueror to have

contained a standing army of five hundred thousand infantry, with a

due proportion of cavalry and elephants, thirty thousand shops for

the sale of 'pân' alone, and sixty thousand families of opera

girls.[7] The 'pân' dealers and opera girls were part and parcel of

the court and its public establishments, and as much dependent on the

residence of the sovereign as the civil, military, and ecclesiastical

officers who ate their 'pân', and enjoyed their dancing and music;

and this great city no sooner ceased to be the residence of the

sovereign, the great proprietor of all the lands in the country, than

it became deserted.

After the establishment of the Muhammadan dominion in India almost

all the Hindoo cities, within the wide range of their conquest,

became deserted as the necessary consequence, as the military

establishments were all destroyed or disbanded, and the religions

establishments scattered, their lands confiscated, their idols

broken, and their temples either reduced to ruins in the first

ebullition of fanatical zeal, or left deserted and neglected to decay

from want of those revenues by which alone they had been, or could

be, supported.[8] The towns and cities of the Roman empire which owed

their origin to the same cause, the residence of governors and their

legions or other public establishments, resisted similar shocks with

more endurance, because they had most of them ceased to depend upon

the causes in which they originated, and began to rest upon other

bases. When destroyed by wave after wave of barbarian conquest, they

were restored for the most part by the residence of church

dignitaries and their establishments; and the military establishments

of the new order of things, instead of remaining as standing armies

about the courts of princes, dispersed after every campaign like

militia, to enjoy the fruits of the lands assigned for their

maintenance, when alone they could be enjoyed in the rude state to

which society had been reduced--upon the lands themselves.

For some time after the Muhammadan conquest of India, that part of it

which was brought effectually under the new dominion can hardly be

considered to have had more than one city with its dependent towns

and villages;[9] because the emperor chose to concentrate the greater

part of his military establishments around the seat of his residence,

and this great city became deserted whenever he thought it necessary

or convenient to change that seat.

But when the emperor began to govern his distant provinces by

viceroys, he was obliged to confide to them a share of his military

establishments, the only public establishments which a conqueror

thought it worth while to maintain; and while they moved about in

their respective provinces, the imperial camp became fixed. The great

officers of state, enriched by the plunder of conquered provinces,

began to spend their wealth in the construction of magnificent works

for private pleasure or public convenience. In time, the viceroys

began to govern their provinces by means of deputies, who moved about

their respective districts, and enabled their masters, the viceroys

of provinces, to convert their camps into cities, which in

magnificence often rivalled that of the emperor their master. The

deputies themselves in time found that they could govern their

respective districts from a central point; and as their camps became

fixed in the chosen spots, towns of considerable magnitude rose, and

sometimes rivalled the capitals of the viceroys. The Muhammadans had

always a greater taste for architectural magnificence, as well in

their private as in their public edifices, than the Hindoos,[10] who

sought the respect and good wishes of mankind through the medium of

groves and reservoirs diffused over the country for their benefit.

Whenever a Muhammadan camp was converted into a town or city almost

all the means of individuals were spent in the gratification of this

taste. Their wealth in money and movables would be, on their death,

at the mercy of their prince--their offices would be conferred on

strangers; tombs and temples, canals, bridges, and caravanserais,

gratuitously for the public good, would tend to propitiate the Deity,

and conciliate the goodwill of mankind, and might also tend to the

advancement of their children in the service of their sovereign. The

towns and cities which rose upon the sites of the standing camps of

the governors of provinces and districts in India were many of them

as much adorned by private and public edifices as those which rose

upon the standing camps of the Muhammadan conquerors of Spain.[11]

Standing camps converted into towns and cities, it became in time

necessary to fortify with walls against any surprise under any sudden

ebullition among the conquered people; and fortifications and strong

garrisons often suggested to the bold and ambitions governors of

distant provinces attempts to shake off the imperial yoke.[12] That

portion of the annual revenue, which had hitherto flowed in copious

streams of tribute to the imperial capital, was now arrested, and

made to augment the local establishments, adorn the cities, and

enrich the towns of the viceroys, now become the sovereigns of

independent kingdoms. The lieutenant-governors of these new

sovereigns, possessed of fortified towns, in their turn often shook

off the yoke of their masters in the same manner, and became in their

turn the independent sovereigns of their respective districts. The

whole resources of the countries subject to their rule being employed

to strengthen and improve their condition, they soon became rich and

powerful kingdoms, adorned with splendid cities and populous towns,

since the public establishments of the sovereigns, among whom all the

revenues were expended, spent all they received in the purchase of

the produce of the land and labour of the surrounding country, which

required no other market.

Thus the successful rebellion of one viceroy converted Southern India

into an independent kingdom; and the successful rebellion, of his

lieutenant-governors in time divided it into four independent

kingdoms, each with a standing army of a hundred thousand men, and

adorned with towns and cities of great strength and magnificence.[13]

But they continued to depend upon the causes in which they

originated--the public establishments of the sovereign; and when the

Emperor Akbar and his successors, aided by their own [_sic_]

intestine wars, had conquered these sovereigns, and again reduced

their kingdoms to tributary provinces, almost all these cities and

towns became depopulated as the necessary consequence. The public

establishments were again moving about with the courts and camps of

the emperor and his viceroys; and drawing in their train all those

who found employment and subsistence in contributing to their

efficiency and enjoyment. It was not, as our ambassador in the

simplicity of his heart supposed, the disinclination of the emperors

to see any other towns magnificent, save those in which they resided,

which destroyed them, but their ambition to reduce all independent

kingdoms to tributary provinces.

Notes:

1. January, 1836.

2. A small town, thirty-six miles south of Delhi, situated in the

Gurgâon district, now included in the Panjâb, but in the author's

time attached to the North-Western Provinces. The town is the chief

place in the 'pargana' of the same name.

3. Nineveh is not a well-chosen example, inasmuch as its decay was

due to deliberate destruction, and not to mere desertion by a

sovereign. It was deliberately burned and ruined by Nabopolassar,

viceroy of Babylon, and his allies, about 606 B.C. The decay of

Babylon was gradual. See note _post_, note 5.

4. Extract from a letter to the Archbishop of Canterbury, dated from

Ajmêr, January 29, 1616. The words immediately following 'rubbish'

are 'His own [i.e. the King's] houses are of stone, handsome and

uniform. His great men build not, for want of inheritance; but, as

far as I have yet seen, live in tents, or in houses worse than our

cottages. Yet, when the King likes, as at Agra, because it is a city

erected by him, the buildings, as is reported, are fair and of carved

stone.' (Pinkerton's _Collection_, vol. viii, p. 45.) The passage is

not reprinted in the Hakluyt Society edition (vol. i, p. 122), where

only extracts from the letter are given.

5. The site of Nineveh was forgotten for a period even longer than

that stated by the author. Mr. Claudius Rich, the Resident at

Baghdad, was the first European to make a tentative identification of

Nineveh with the mounds opposite Mosal, in 1818. Real knowledge of

the site and its history dates from the excavations of Botta begun in

1843, and those of Layard begun two years later. (Bonomi, _Nineveh

and its Palaces_, 2nd ed., 1853; Layard, _Nineveh and its Remains_, 2

vols, 1849.) The author's account of the fall of Nineveh, based on

that of Diodorus Siculus, is not in accordance with the conclusions

of the best modern authorities. The destruction of the city in or

about 606 B.C. was really effected some years after the death of

Sardanapalus (Assur-banipal), in 625 B.C., by Nabopolassar (Nabupal-

uzur), the rebel viceroy of Babylon, in alliance with Necho of Egypt,

Cyaxares of Media, and the King of Armenia. The Assyrian monarch who

perished in the assault was not Sardanapalus (Assur-banipal), but his

son Assur-ebel-ili, or, according to Professor Sayce, a king called

Saracus, After the destruction of Nineveh, Babylon became the capital

of the Mesopotamian empire, and under Nebuchadrezzar

(Nebuchadnezzar), son of Nabopolassar, who came to the throne in 604

B.C., attained the height of glory and renown. It was occupied by

Cyrus in 539 B.C., and decayed gradually, but was still a place of

importance in the time of Alexander the Great. The eponymous hero,

Ninus, is of course purely mythical. The results of modern research

will be found in the _Encycl. Brit._, 11th ed., 1910, in the articles

'Babylon' (Sayce), 'Babylonia and Assyria' (Sayce and Jastrow), and

'Nineveh' (Johns). See also, ibid., 'Cyrus' (Meyer).

6. Kanauj, now in the Farrukhâbâd district of the United Provinces,

was sacked by Mahmûd of Ghaznî in January, A.D. 1019. The name of

Mahmûd's capital may be spelled Ghaznih, Ghaznî, or Ghaznîn.

(Raverty, in _J.A.S.B._, Part I, vol. lxi (1892), p. 156, note.)

7. 'Pân', the well-known Indian condiment (_ante_, chapter 29, note

10). 'Opera girls' is a rather whimsical rendering of the more usual

phrase 'nâch (nautch) girls', or 'dancing girls'. The traditional

numbers cited must not be accepted as historical facts. See V. A.

Smith, 'The History of the City of Kanauj' (_J.R.A.S._, 1908, pp.

767-93).

8. This statement is too general. Benares, Allahabad (Prayâg), and

many other important Hindoo cities, were never deserted, and

continued to be populous through all vicissitudes. It is true that in

most places the principal temples were desecrated or destroyed, and

were frequently converted into mosques.

9. The statement is much exaggerated. The Hindoo Râjâs who paid

tribute to the Sultans of Delhi often maintained considerable courts

in populous towns.

10. This proposition, which is not true of Southern India at all,

applies only to secular buildings in Northern India. The temples of

Khajurâho, Mount Abû, and numberless other places, equal in

magnificence the architecture of the Muhammadans, or, indeed, that of

any people in the world.

11. The anthor's remarks seem likely to convey wrong notions. Very

few of the capitals of the Muhammadan viceroys and governors were new

foundations. Nearly all of them were ancient Hindoo towns adopted as

convenient official residences, and enlarged and beautified by the

new rulers, much of the old beauties being at the same time

destroyed. Fyzabad certainly was a new foundation of the Nawâb Wazîrs

of Oudh, but it lies so close to the extremely ancient city of

Ajodhya that it should rather be regarded as a Muhammadan extension

of that city. Lucknow occupies the site of a Hindoo city of great

antiquity.

12. It would be difficult to point out an example of a _Muhammadan_

standing camp which was first converted into an open, and then into a

fortified town.

13. This abstract of the history of the Deccan, or Southern India, is

not quite accurate. The Emperor, or Sultan, Muhammad bin Tughlak,

after A.D. 1325, reduced the Deccan to a certain extent to

submission, but the country revolted in A.D. 1347, when Hasan Gango

founded the Bâhmani dynasty of Gulbarga, afterwards known as that of

Bîdar. At the end of the fifteenth and the beginning of the sixteenth

century, the kingdom so founded broke up into five, not four,

separate states, namely, Bîjâpur, Ahmadnagar, Golconda, Berâr, and

Bîdar. The Berâr state had a separate existence for about eighty-five

years, and then became merged in the kingdom of Ahmadnagar.

CHAPTER 64

Murder of Mr. Fraser, and Execution of the Nawâb Shams-ud-dîn.

At Palwal Mr. Wilmot and Mr. Wright, who had come on business, and

Mr. Gubbins, breakfasted and dined with us. They complained sadly of

the solitude to which they were condemned, but admitted that they

should not be able to get through half so much business were they

placed at a large station, and exposed to all the temptations and

distractions of a gay and extensive circle, nor feel the same

interest in their duties, or sympathy with the people, as they do

when thrown among them in this manner. To give young men good

feelings towards the natives, the only good way is to throw them

among them at those out-stations in the early part of their career,

when all their feelings are fresh about them. This holds good as well

with the military as the civil officer, but more especially with the

latter. A young officer at an outpost with his corps, or part of it,

for the first season or two, commonly lays in a store of good feeling

towards his men that lasts him for life; and a young gentleman of the

Civil Service lays in, in the same manner, a good store of sympathy

and fellow feeling with the natives in general.[1]

Mr. Gubbins is the Magistrate and Collector of one of the three

districts into which the Delhi territories are divided, and he has

charge of Fîrôzpur, the resumed estate of the late Nawâb Shams-ud-

dîn, which yields a net revenue of about two hundred thousand rupees

a year.[2] I have already stated that this Nawâb took good care that

his Mewâtî plunderers should not rob within his own estate; but he

not only gave them free permission to rob over the surrounding

districts of our territory, but encouraged them to do so, that he

might share in their booty.[3] He was a handsome young man, and an

extremely agreeable companion; but a most unprincipled and licentious

character. No man who was reputed to have a handsome wife or daughter

was for a moment safe within his territories. The following account

of Mr. William Fraser's assassination by this Nawâb may, I think, be

relied upon.[4]

The Fîrôzpur Jâgîr was one of the principalities created under the

principle of Lord Cornwallis's second administration, which was to

make the security of the British dominions dependent upon the

divisions among the independent native chiefs upon their frontiers.

The person receiving the grant or confirmation of such principality

from the British Government 'pledged himself to relinquish all claims

to aid, and to maintain the peace in his own possessions.'[5]

Fîrôzpur was conferred by Lord Lake, in 1805, upon Ahmad Baksh, for

his diplomatic services, out of the territories acquired by us west

of the Jumna during the Marâthâ wars. He had been the agent on the

part of the Hindoo chiefs of Alwar in attendance upon Lord Lake

during the whole of that war. He was a great favourite, and his

lordship's personal regard for him was thought by those chiefs to

have been so favourable to their cause that they conferred upon him

the 'pargana' of Lohârû in hereditary rent-free tenure.

In 1822, Ahmad Baksh declared Shams-ud-dîn, his eldest son, his heir,

with the sanction of the British Government and the Râjâs of Alwar.

In February, 1825, Shams-ud-dîn, at the request of his father, by a

formal deed assigned over the pargana of Lohârû as a provision for

his younger brothers by another mother, Amîn-ud-dîn and Ziâ-ud-

dîn;[6] and in October 1826 he was finally invested by his father

with the management; and the circumstance was notified to the British

Government, through the Resident at Delhi, Sir Charles Metcalfe.

Ahmad Baksh died in October, 1827. Disputes soon after arose between

the brothers, and they expressed a desire to submit their claims to

the arbitration of Sir Edward Colebrooke,[7] who had succeeded Sir

Charles Metcalfe in the Residency of Delhi.[8] He referred the matter

to the Supreme Government; and by their instructions, under date 11th

of April, 1828, he was authorized to adjust the matter. He decided

that Shams-ud-dîn should make a complete and unencumbered cession to

his younger brothers of the pargana of Lohârû, without the

reservation of any right of interference in the management, or of any

condition of obedience to himself whatever; and that Amîn-ud-dîn

should, till his younger brother came of age, pay into the Delhi

treasury for him the annual sum of five thousand two hundred and ten

rupees, as his half share of the net proceeds, to be there held in

deposit for him; and that the estate should, from the time he came of

age, be divided between them in equal shares. This award was

confirmed by Government; but Sir Edward was recommended to alter it

for an annual money payment to the two younger brothers, if he could

do so with the consent of the parties.

The pargana was transferred, as the money payment could not be agreed

upon; and in September Mr. Martin, who had succeeded Sir E.

Colebrooke, proposed to Government that the pargana of Lohârû should

be restored to Shams-ud-dîn in lieu of a fixed sum of twenty-six

thousand rupees a year to be paid by him annually to his two younger

brothers. This proposal was made on the ground that Amîn-ud-dîn could

not collect the revenues from the refractory landholders (instigated,

no doubt, by the emissaries of Shams-ud-dîn), and consequently could

not pay his younger brother's revenue into the treasury. In

calculating the annual net revenue of 10,420 rupees, 15,000 of the

_gross_ revenue had been estimated as the annual expenses of the

mutual [_sic_] establishments of the two brothers. To the arrangement

proposed by Mr. Martin the younger brothers strongly objected; and

proposed in preference to make over the pargana to the British

Government, on condition of receiving the net revenue, whatever might

be the amount. Mr. Martin was desired by the Governor-General to

effect this arrangement, should Amîn-ud-dîn appear still to wish it;

but he preferred retaining the management of it in his own hands, in

the hope that circumstances would improve.

Shams-ud-dîn, however, pressed his claim to the restoration of the

pargana so often that it was at last, in September, 1833, insisted

upon by Government, on the ground that Amîn-ud-dîn had failed to

fulfil that article of the agreement which bound him to pay annually

into the Delhi treasury 5,210 rupees for his younger brother, though

that brother had never complained; on the contrary, lived with him on

the best possible terms, and was as averse as himself to the

retransfer of the pargana, on condition that they gave up their

claims to a large share of the movable property of their late father,

which had been already decided in their favour in the court of first

instance. Mr. W. Fraser, who had succeeded to the office of Governor-

General's representative in the Delhi Territories, remonstrated

strongly against this measure; and wished to bring it again under the

consideration of Government; on the grounds that Ziâ-ud-dîn had never

made any complaint against his brother Amîn-ud-dîn for want of

punctuality in the payment of his share of the net revenue after the

payment of their mutual establishments; that the two brothers would

be deprived by this measure of an hereditary estate to the value of

sixty thousand rupees a year in perpetuity, burthened with the

condition that they relinquished a suit already gained in the court

of first instance, and likely to be gained in appeal, involving a sum

that would of itself yield them that annual sum at the moderate

interest of 6 per cent. The grounds alleged by him were not

considered valid, and the pargana was made over to Shams-ud-dîn. The

pargana now yields 40,000 rupees a year, and under good management

may yield 70,000.

At Mr. Fraser's recommendation, Amîn-ud-dîn went himself to Calcutta,

and is said to have prevailed upon the Government to take his case

again into their consideration. Shams-ud-dîn had become a debauched

and licentious character; and having criminal jurisdiction within his

own estate, no one's wife or daughter was considered safe; for, when

other means failed him, he did not scruple to employ assassins to

effect his hated purposes, by removing the husband or father.[9] Mr.

Fraser became so disgusted with his conduct that he would not admit

him into his house when he came to Delhi, though he had, it may be

said, brought him up as a child of his own; indeed he had been as

fond of him as he could be of a child of his own; and the boy used to

spend the greater part of his time with him. One day after Mr. Fraser

had refused to admit the Nawâb to his house. Colonel Skinner, having

some apprehensions that by such slights he might be driven to seek

revenge by assassination, is said to have remonstrated with Mr.

Fraser as his oldest and most valued friend.[10] Mr. Fraser told him

that he considered the Nawâb to be still but a boy, and the only way

to improve him was to treat him as such. It was, however, more by

these slights than by any supposed injuries that Shams-ud-dîn was

exasperated; and from that day he determined to have Mr. Fraser

assassinated.[11]

Having prevailed upon a man, Karîm Khân, who was at once his servant

and boon companion, he sent him to Delhi with one of his carriages,

which he was to have sold through Mr. McPherson, a European merchant

of the city. He was ordered to stay there ostensibly for the purpose

of learning the process of extracting copper from the fossil

containing the ore, and purchasing dogs for the Nawâb. He was to

watch his opportunity and shoot Mr. Fraser whenever he might find him

out at night, attended by only one or two orderlies; to be in no

haste, but to wait till he found a favourable opportunity, though it

should be for several months. He had with him a groom named Rûplâ,

and a Mewâtî attendant named Aniâ, and they lodged in apartments of

the Nawâb's at Daryâoganj. He rode out morning and evening, attended

by Aniâ on foot, for three months, during which he often met Mr.

Fraser, but never under circumstances favourable to his purpose; and

at last, in despair, returned to Fîrôzpur. Aniâ, had importuned him

for leave to go home to see his children, who had been ill, and Karîm

Khân did not like to remain without him. The Nawâb was displeased

with him for returning without leave, and ordered him to return to

his post, and effect the object of his mission. Aniâ declined to

return, and the Nawâb recommended Karîm to take somebody else, but he

had, he said, explained all his designs to this man, and it would be

dangerous to entrust the secret to another; and he could, moreover,

rely entirely upon the courage of Aniâ on any trying occasion.

Twenty rupees were due to the treasury by Aniâ on account of the rent

of the little tenement he held under the Nawâb; and the treasurer

consented, at the request of Karîm Khân, to receive this by small

instalments, to be deducted out of the monthly wages he was to

receive from him. He was, moreover, assured that he should have

nothing to do but to cook and eat; and should share liberally with

Karîm in the one hundred rupees he was taking with him in money, and

the letter of credit upon the Nawâb's bankers at Delhi for one

thousand rupees more. The Nawâb himself came with them as far as the

village of Nagîna, where he used to hunt; and there Karîm requested

permission to change his groom, as he thought Rûplâ too shrewd a man

for such a purpose. He wanted, he said, a stupid, sleepy man, who

would neither ask nor understand anything; but the Nawâb told him

that Rûplâ was an old and quiet servant, upon whose fidelity he could

entirely rely; and Karîm consented to take him. Aniâ's little

tenement, upon which his wife and children resided, was only two

miles distant, and he went to give instructions about gathering in

the harvest, and to take leave of them. He told his wife that he was

going to the capital on a difficult and dangerous duty, but that his

companion Karîm would do it all, no doubt. Aniâ asked Karîm before

they left Nagîna what was to be his reward; and he told him that the

Nawâb had promised them five villages in rent-free tenure. Aniâ

wished to learn from the Nawâb himself what he might expect; and

being taken to him by Karîm, was assured that he and his family

should be provided for handsomely for the rest of their lives, if he

did his duty well on this occasion.

On reaching Delhi they took up their quarters near Colonel Skinner's

house, in the Bulvemar's Ward,[12] where they resided for two months.

The Nawâb had told Karîm to get a gun made for his purpose at Delhi,

or purchase one, stating that his guns had all been purchased through

Colonel Skinner, and would lead to suspicion if seen in his

possession. On reaching Delhi, Karîm purchased an old gun, and

desired Aniâ to go to a certain man in the Chândnî Chauk, and get it

made in the form of a short blunderbuss, with a peculiar stock, that

would admit of its being concealed under a cloak; and to say that he

was going to Gwâlior to seek service, if any one questioned him. The

barrel was cut, and the instrument made exactly as Karîm wished it to

be by the man whom he pointed out. They met Mr. Fraser every day, but

never at night; and Karîm expressed regret that the Nawâb should have

so strictly enjoined him not to shoot him in the daytime, which he

thought he might do without much risk. Aniâ got an attack of fever,

and urged Karîm to give up the attempt and return home, or at least

permit him to do so. Karîm himself became weary, and said he would do

so very soon if he could not succeed; but that he should certainly

shoot _some European gentleman_ before he set out, and tell his

master that he had taken him for Mr. Fraser--to save appearances.

Aniâ told him that this was a question between him and his master,

and no concern of his.

At the expiration of two months, a peon came to learn what they were

doing. Karîm wrote a letter by him to the Nawâb, saying that '_the

dog_ he wished was never to be seen without ten or twelve people

about him; and that he saw no chance whatever of finding him, except

in the midst of them; but that if he wished, he would purchase this

_dog_ in the midst of the crowd'. The Nawâb wrote a reply, which was

sent by a trooper, with orders that it should be opened in presence

of no one but Aniâ. The contents were: 'I command you not to purchase

_the dog_ in presence of many persons, as its price will be greatly

raised. You may purchase him before one person, or even two, but not

before more; I am in no hurry, the longer the time you take the

better; but do not return without purchasing _the dog_.'[13] That is,

without killing Mr. Fraser.

They went on every day to watch Mr. Fraser's movements. Leaving the

horse with the groom, sometimes in one old ruin of the city, and

sometimes in another, ready saddled for flight, with orders that he

should not be exposed to the view of passers-by, Karîm and Aniâ used

to pace the streets, and on several occasions fell in with him, but

always found him attended by too many followers of one kind or

another for their purpose. At last, on Sunday, the 13th of March,

1835, Karîm heard that Mr. Fraser was to attend a 'nâch' (dance),

given by Hindoo Râo, the brother of the Baiza Bâi,[14] who then

resided at Delhi; and determining to try whether he could not shoot

him from horseback, he sent away his groom as soon as he had

ascertained that Mr. Fraser was actually at the dance. Aniâ went in

and mixed among the assembly; and as soon as he saw Mr. Fraser rise

to depart, he gave intimation to Karîm, who ordered him to keep

behind, and make off as fast as he could, as soon as he should hear

the report of his gun.

A little way from Hindoo Rao's house the road branches off; that to

the left is straight, while that to the right is circuitous. Mr.

Fraser was known always to take the straight road, and upon that

Karîm posted himself, as the road up to the place where it branched

off was too public for his purpose. As it happened, Mr. Fraser, for

the first time, took the circuitous road to the right, and reached

his home without meeting Karîm. Aniâ placed himself at the cross way,

and waited there till Karîm came up to him. On hearing that he had

taken the right road, Karîm said that 'a man in Mr. Fraser's

situation must be a strange ('kâfir') unbeliever not to have such a

thing as a torch with him in a dark night. Had he had what he ought',

he said, 'I should not have lost him this time'.

They passed him on the road somewhere or other almost every afternoon

after this for seven days, but could never fall in with him after

dark. On the eighth day, Sunday, the 22nd of March, Karîm went, as

usual, in the forenoon to the great mosque to say his prayers; and on

his way back in the afternoon he purchased some plums which he was

eating when he came up to Aniâ, whom he found cooking his dinner. He

ordered his horse to be saddled immediately, and told Aniâ to make

haste and eat his dinner, as he had seen Mr. Fraser at a party given

by the Râjâ of Kishangarh. '_When his time is come_,' said Karîm, 'we

shall no doubt find an opportunity to kill him, if we watch him

carefully.' They left the groom at home that evening, and proceeded

to the 'dargâh' (church) near the canal. Seeing Aniâ with merely a

Stick in his hand, Karîm bid him go back and change it for a sword,

while he went in and said his evening prayers.

On being rejoined by Aniâ, they took the road to cantonments, which

passed by Mr. Fraser's house; and Aniâ observed that the risk was

hardly equal in this undertaking, he being on foot, while Karîm was

on horseback; that he should be sure to be taken, while the other

might have a fair chance of escape. It was now quite dark, and Karîm

bid him stand by sword in hand; and if anybody attempted to seize his

horse when he fired, cut him down, and be assured that while he had

life he would never suffer him, Aniâ, to be taken. Karîm continued to

patrol up and down on the high-road, that nobody might notice him,

while Aniâ stood by the road-side. At last, about eleven o'clock,

they heard Mr. Fraser approach, attended by one trooper, and two

'peons' on foot; and Karîm walked his horse slowly, as if he had been

going from the city to the cantonments, till Mr. Fraser came up

within a few paces of him, near the gate leading into his house.

Karîm Khân, on leaving his house, had put one large ball into his

short blunderbuss; and when confident that he should now have an

opportunity of shooting Mr. Fraser, he put in two more small ones. As

Mr. Fraser's horse was coming up on the left side, Karîm Khân tumed

round his, and, as he passed, presented his blunderbuss, fired, and

all three balls passed into Mr. Fraser's breast. All three horses

reared at the report and flash, and Mr. Fraser fell dead on the

ground. Karîm galloped off, followed at a short distance by the

trooper, and the two peons went off and gave information to Major Pew

and Cornet Robinson, who resided near the place. They came in all

haste to the spot, and had the body taken to the deceased's own

house; but no signs of life remained. They reported the murder to the

magistrate, and the city gates were closed, as the assassin had been

seen to enter the city by the trooper.

Aniâ ran home through the Kabul gate of the city, unperceived, while

Karîm entered by the Ajmêr gate, and passed first through the

encampment of Hindoo Rao, to efface the traces of his horse's feet.

When he reached their lodgings, he found Aniâ there before him; and

Rûplâ, the groom, seeing his horse in a sweat, told him that he had

had a narrow escape--that Mr. Fraser had been killed, and orders

given for the arrest of any horseman that might be found in or near

the city. He told him to hold his tongue, and take care of the horse;

and calling for a light, he and Aniâ tore up every letter he had

received from Fîrôzpur, and dipped the fragments in water, to efface

the ink from them. Aniâ asked him what he had done with the

blunderbuss, and was told that it had been thrown into a well. Aniâ

now concealed three flints that he kept about him in some sand in the

upper story they occupied, and threw an iron ramrod and two spare

bullets into a well near the mosque.

The next morning, when he heard that the city gates had been all shut

to prevent any one from going out till strict search should be made,

Karîm became a good deal alarmed, and went to seek counsel from

Moghal Beg, the friend of his master; but when in the evening he

heard that they had been again opened, he recovered his spirits; and

the next day he wrote a letter to the Nawâb, saying that he had

purchased the dogs that he wanted, and would soon return with them.

He then went to Mr. McPherson, and actually purchased from him for

the Nawâb some dogs and pictures, and the following day sent Rûplâ,

the groom, with them to Fîrôzpur, accompanied by two bearers. A

pilgrim lodged in the same place with these men, and was present when

Karîm came home from the murder, and gave his horse to Rûplâ. In the

evening, after the departure of Rûplâ with the dogs, four men of the

Gûjar caste came to the place, and Karîm sat down and smoked a pipe

with one of them,[15] who said that he had lost his bread by Mr.

Fraser's death, and should be glad to see the murderer punished--that

he was known to have worn a green vest, and he hoped he would soon be

discovered. The pilgrim came up to Karîm shortly after these four men

went away, and said that he had heard from some one that he, Karîm,

was himself suspected of the murder. He went again to Moghal Beg, who

told him not to be alarmed, that, happily, the Regulations were now

in force in the Delhi Territory, and that he had only to stick

steadily to one story to be safe.

He now desired Aniâ to return to Fîrôzpur with a letter to the Nawâb,

and to assure him that he would be stanch and stick to one story,

though they should seize him and confine him in prison for twelve

years. He had, he said, already sent off part of his clothes, and

Aniâ should now take away the rest, so that nothing suspicious should

be left near him.

The next morning Aniâ set out on foot, accompanied by Islâmullah, a

servant of Moghal Beg's, who was also the bearer of a letter to the

Nawâb. They hired two ponies when they became tired, but both flagged

before they reached Nagîna, whence Aniâ proceeded to Fîrôzpur, on a

mare belonging to the native collector, leaving Islâmullah behind. He

gave his letter to the Nawâb, who desired him to describe the affair

of the murder. He did so. The Nawâb seemed very much pleased, and

asked him whether Karîm appeared to be in any alarm. Aniâ told him

that he did not, and had resolved to stick to one story, though he

should be imprisoned for twelve years. 'Karîm Khân,' said the Nawâb,

turning to the brother-in-law of the former, Wâsil Khân, and Hasan

Alî, who stood near him--'Karîm Khân is a very brave man, whose

courage may be always relied on.' He gave Aniâ eighteen rupees, and

told him to change his name, and keep close to Wâsil Khân. They

retired together; but, while Wâsil Khân went to his house, Aniâ stood

on the road unperceived, but near enough to hear Hasan Alî urge the

Nawâb to have him put to death immediately, as the only chance of

keeping the fatal secret. He went off immediately to Wâsil Khân, and

prevailed upon him to give him leave to go home for that night to see

his family, promising to be back the next morning early.

He set out forthwith, but had not been long at home when he learned

that Hasan Alî, and another confidential servant of the Nawâb, were

come in search of him with some troopers. He concealed himself in the

roof of his house, and heard them ask his wife and children where he

was, saying they wanted his aid in getting out some hyaenas they had

traced into their dens in the neighbourhood. They were told that he

had gone back to Fîrôzpur, and returned; but were sent back by the

Nawâb to make a more careful search for him. Before they came,

however, he had gone off to his friends Kamruddîn and Joharî, two

brothers who resided in the Râo Râjâ's territory. To this place he

was followed by some Mewâtîs, whom the Nawâb had induced, under the

promise of a large reward, to undertake to kill him. One night he

went to two acquaintances, Makrâm and Shahâmat, in a neighbouring

village, and begged them to send to some English gentleman in Delhi,

and solicit for him a pardon, on condition of his disclosing all the

circumstances of Mr. Fraser's murder. They promised to get everything

done for him through a friend in the police at Delhi, and set out for

that purpose, while Aniâ returned and concealed himself in the hills.

In six days they came with a paper, purporting to be a promise of

pardon from the court of Delhi, and desired Kamr-ud-dîn to introduce

them to Aniâ. He told them to return to him in three days, and he

would do so; but he went off to Aniâ in the hills, and told him that

he did not think these men had really got the papers from the English

gentlemen--that they appeared to him to be in the service of the

Nawâb himself. Aniâ was, however, introduced to them when they came

back, and requested that the paper might be read to him. Seeing

through their designs, he again made off to the hills, while they

went out in search, they pretended, of a man to read it, but in

reality to get some people who were waiting in the neighbourhood to

assist in securing him, and taking him off to the Nawâb.

Finding on their return that Aniâ had escaped, they offered high

rewards to the two brothers if they would assist in tracing him out;

and Joharî was taken to the Nawâb, who offered him a very high reward

if he would bring Aniâ to him, or, at least, take measures to prevent

his going to the English gentlemen. This was communicated to Aniâ,

who went through Bharatpur to Bareilly, and from Bareilly to

Secunderabad, where he heard, in the beginning of July, that both

Karîm and the Nawâb were to be tried for the murder, and that the

judge, Mr. Colvin, had already arrived at Delhi to conduct the trial.

He now determined to go to Delhi and give himself up. On his way he

was met by Mr. Simon Fraser's man, who took him to Delhi, when he

confessed his share in the crime, became king's evidence at the

trial, and gave an interesting narrative of the whole affair.

Two water-carriers, in attempting to draw up the brass jug of a

carpenter, which had fallen into the well the morning after the

murder, pulled up the blunderbuss which Karîm Khân had thrown into

the same well. This was afterwards recognized by Aniâ, and the man

whom he pointed out as having made it for him. Two of the four

Gûjars, who were mentioned as having visited Karîm immediately after

the murder, went to Brigadier Fast, who commanded the troops at

Delhi, fearing that the native officers of the European civil

functionaries might be in the interest of the Nawâb, and get them

made away with. They told him that Karîm Khân seemed to answer the

description of the man named in the proclamation as the murderer of

Mr. Fraser; and he sent them with a note to the Commissioner, Mr.

Metcalfe, who sent them to the Magistrate, Mr. Fraser, who

accompanied them to the place, and secured Karîm, with some fragments

of important papers. The two Mewâtîs, who had been sent to

assassinate Aniâ, were found, and they confessed the fact: the

brother of Aniâ, Rahmat, was found and he described the difficulty

Aniâ had to escape from the Nawâb's people sent to murder him. Rûplâ,

the groom, deposed to all that he had seen during the time he was

employed as Karîm's groom at Delhi. Several men deposed to having met

Karîm, and heard him asking after Mr. Fraser a few days before the

murder. The two peons, who were with Mr. Fraser when he was shot,

deposed to the horse which he rode at the time, and which was found

with him.

Karîm Khân and the Nawâb were both convicted of the crime, sentenced

to death, and executed at Delhi, I should mention that suspicion had

immediately attached to Karîm Khân; he was known for some time to

have been lurking about Delhi, on the pretence of purchasing dogs;

and it was said that, had the Nawâb really wanted dogs, he would not

have sent to purchase them by a man whom he admitted to his table,

and treated on terms of equality. He was suspected of having been

employed on such occasions before--known to be a good shot, and a

good rider, who could fire and reload very quickly while his horse

was in full gallop, and called in consequence the 'Bharmârû.'[16] His

horse, which was found in the stable by the Gûjar spies, who had

before been in Mr. Fraser's service, answered the description given

of the murderer's horse by Mr. Fraser's attendants; and the Nawâb was

known to cherish feelings of bitter hatred against Mr. Fraser.

The Nawâb was executed some time after Karîm, on Thursday morning,

the 3rd of October, 1835, close outside the north, or Kashmir Gate,

leading to the cantonments. He prepared himself for the execution in

an extremely rich and beautiful dress of light green, the colour

which martyrs wear; but he was made to exchange this, and he then

chose one of simple white, and was too conscious of his guilt to urge

strongly his claim to wear what dress he liked on such an occasion.

The following corps were drawn up around the gallows, forming three

sides of a square: the 1st Regiment of Cavalry, the 20th, 39th, and

69th Regiments of Native Infantry, Major Pew's Light Field Battery,

and a strong party of police. On ascending the scaffold, the Nawâb

manifested symptoms of disgust at the approach to his person of the

sweeper, who was to put the rope round his neck;[17] but he soon

mastered his feelings, and submitted with a good grace to his fate.

Just as he expired his body made a last turn, and left his face

towards the _west_, or the _tomb of his Prophet_, which the

Muhammadans of Delhi considered a miracle, indicating that he was a

martyr--not as being innocent of the murder, but as being executed

for the murder of an unbeliever. Pilgrimages were for some time made

to the Nawâb's tomb,[18] but I believe they have long since ceased

with the short gleam of sympathy that his fate excited. The only

people that still recollect him with feelings of kindness are the

prostitutes and dancing women of the city of Delhi, among whom most

of his revenues were squandered[19] In the same manner was Wazîr Ali

recollected for many years by the prostitutes and dancing women of

Benares, after the massacre of Mr. Cherry and all the European

gentlemen of that station, save one, Mr. Davis, who bravely defended

himself, wife, and children against a host with a hog spear on the

top of his house. No European could pass Benares for twenty years

after Wazîr Alî's arrest and confinement in the garrison of Fort

William, without hearing from the Windows songs in his praise, and in

praise of the massacre.[20]

It is supposed that the Nawâb Faiz Muhammad Khan of Jhajjar was

deeply implicated in this murder, though no proof of it could be

found. He died soon after the execution of Shams-ud-dîn, and was

succeeded in his fief by his eldest son, Faiz Alî Khân.[21] This fief

was bestowed on the father of the deceased, whose name was Najâbat

Alî Khân, by Lord Lake, on the termination of the war in 1805, for

the aid he had given to the retreating army under Colonel Monson.[22]

One circumstance attending the execution of the Nawâb Shams-ud-dîn

seems worthy of remark. The magistrate, Mr. Frascott, desired his

crier to go through the city the evening before the execution, and

proclaim to the people that those who might wish to be present at the

execution were not to encroach upon the line of sentries that would

be formed to keep clear an allotted space round the gallows, nor to

carry with them any kind of arms; but the crier, seemingly retaining

in his recollection only the words _arms_ and _sentries_, gave out

after his 'Oyes, Oyes,'[23] that the sentries had orders to use their

arms, and shoot any man, woman, or child that should presume to go

outside the wall to look at the execution of the Nawâb. No person, in

consequence, ventured out till the execution was over, when they went

to see the Nawâb himself converted into smoke; as the general

impression was that as life should leave it, the body was to be blown

off into the air by a general discharge of musketry and artillery.

Moghal Bêg was acquitted for want of judicial proof of his guilty

participation in the crime.

Notes:

1. The author's remarks concerning military officers refer to

officers serving with native regiments, now known as the Indian Army.

Before the institution of the reformed police in 1861 the native

troops used to be much scattered in detachments, guarding treasuries,

and performing other duties since entrusted to the police.

Detachments are now rarely sent out, except on frontier service.

2. Fîrôzpur, the Fîrozpur-Jhirka of the _I.G._, is now the head-

quarters of a sub-collectorate in the Gurgâon district. The three

Districts of the Delhi Territories in Sleeman's time seem to have

been Delhi, Pânîpat (= Karnâl), and Rohtak, which were under the

jurisdiction of the Lieutenant-Governor of the North-Western

Provinces. In 1858, after the Mutiny, they were transferred to the

Panjâb. Since then, many administrative changes have occurred. The

latest took place on October 1, 1912, on the occasion of Delhi

becoming the official capital of India, instead of Calcutta. The city

of Delhi with a small surrounding area, 557 square miles in all, now

forms a tiny distinct province, ruled by a Chief Commissioner under

the direct orders of the Government of India. The Delhi Division has

ceased to exist, and six Districts, namely, Hissar, Rohtak, Karnâl,

Ambâla (Umballa), Gurgâon, and Simla, now constitute the

Commissioner's Division of Ambâla in the Panjâb.

3. _Ante_, chapter 31, text between [10] and [11]. Some great

landholders of the present day pursue the same policy.

4. The story of the murder of Fraser is told very differently in

Bosworth-Smith's _Life of Lord Lawrence_, where all the detective

credit is given to Lord L., apparently on his own authority. See also

an article in the _Quarterly Review_ for April 1883, by Sir H. Yule,

and another in _Blackwoods Magazine_ for January 1878.

Miniature medallion portraits of Nawâb Shams-ud-dîn and his servant

Karîm Khân are given on the frontispiece of Volume II in the original

edition.

5. The inglorious second administration of Lord Cornwallis lasted

only from 30th of July, 1805, the date on which he relieved the

Marquis Wellesley, to the 5th of October of the same year, the date

of his death at Ghâzîpur. 'The Marquis Cornwallis arrived in India,

prepared to abandon, as far as might be practicable, all the

advantages gained for the British Government by the wisdom, energy,

and perseverance of his predecessor; to relax the bands by which the

Marquis Wellesley had connected the greater portion of the states of

India with the British Government; and to reduce that Government from

the position of arbiter of the destinies of India to the rank of one

among many equals.' His policy was zealously carried out by Sir

George Barlow, who succeeded him, and held office till July, 1807.

That statesman was not ashamed to write that 'the British possessions

in the Doâb will derive additional security from the contests of the

neighbouring states'. (Thornton, _The History of the British Empire

in India_, chap. 21.) This fatuous policy produced twelve years of

anarchy, which were terminated by the Marquis of Hastings's great war

with the Marâthâs and Pindhârîs in 1817, so often referred to in this

book. Lord Lake addressed the most earnest remonstrances to Sir

George Barlow without avail.

6. Amîn-ud-dîn and Ziâ-ud-dîn's mother was the Bhâo Bêgam, or wife;

Shams-ud-dîn's the Bhâo Khânum, or mistress. [W. H. S.]

7. Sir James Edward, third baronet, who died November 5, 1838. He was

paternal uncle of Henry Thomas Colebrooke, F.R.S., the greatest of

Anglo-Indian Sanskritists. The fifth baronet, Edward Arthur, was

created Baron Colebrooke in 1906.

8. Sir Charles Metcalfe was for a time Assistant Resident at Delhi,

and was first appointed to the Residency at the extraordinarily early

age of twenty-six. He was then transferred to other posts. In 1824 he

returned to the Delhi Residency, superseding Sir David Ochterlony,

whose measures had been disapproved by the Government of India. He

left the Residency in 1827.

9. The editor once had occasion to deal with a similar case, which

resulted in the loss by the offending Râjâ of his rank and title. The

orders were passed by the Government of Lord Dufferin.

10. Colonel Skinner, who raised the famous troops known as Skinner's

Horse, died in 1841, and was buried in the church of St. James at

Delhi which he had built. The church still exists. The Colonel

erected opposite the church, as a memorial of his friend Fraser, a

fine inlaid marble cross, which was destroyed in the Mutiny (General

Hervey, _Some Records of Crime_, vol. i, p. 403).

11. According to General Hervey, the provocation was that Mr. Fraser

had inquired from the Nawâb about his sister by name (op. cit., p.

279).

12. I print this word 'Bulvemar's' as it stands in the original

edition, not knowing what it means.

13. The habits of Europeans have now changed, and to most people

escorts have become distasteful. High officials now constantly go

about unattended, and could be assassinated with little difficulty.

Happily crimes of the kind are rare, except on the Afghan frontier,

where special precautions are taken.

14. For the 'Bâiza Bai' see _ante_, chapter 50 note 4. Hindoo Râo's

house became famous in 1857 as the head-quarters of the British force

on the Ridge, during the siege of Delhi.

15. Many of the Gûjar caste are Muhammadans.

16. That is to say 'load and fire', or 'sharpshooter'.

17. No one but a member of one of the 'outcaste castes', if the

'bull' be allowable, will act as executioner.

18. This sinister incident shows clearly the real feeling of the

Muhammadan populace towards the ruling power. That feeling is

unchanged, and is not altogether confined to the Muslim populace. See

the following remark about the populace of Benares.

19. This remark was evidently written some time after the author's

first visit to Delhi, and probably was written in the year 1839.

20. On the death of Âsaf-ud-daula, Wazîr Alî was, in spite of doubts

as to his legitimacy, recognized by Sir John Shore (Lord Teignmouth)

as the Nawâb Wazîr of Oudh, in 1797. On reconsideration, the

Governor-General cancelled the recognition of Wazîr Alî, and

recognized his rival Saâdat Alî. Wazîr Alî was removed from Lucknow,

but injudiciously allowed to reside at Benares. The Marquis

Wellesley, then Earl of Mornington, took charge of the office of

Governor-General in 1798, and soon resolved that it was expedient to

remove Wazîr Alî to a greater distance from Lucknow. Mr. Cherry, the

Agent to the Governor-General, was accordingly instructed to remove

him from Benares to Calcutta. The outbreak alluded to in the text

occurred on January 14, 1799, and was the expression of Wazîr Ali's

resentment at these orders. It is described as follows by Thornton

(_History_, chap. xvii): 'A visit which Wazîr Alî made, accompanied

by his suite, to the British Agent, afforded the means of

accomplishing the meditated revenge. He had engaged himself to

breakfast with Mr. Cherry, and the parties met in apparent amity. The

usual compliments were exchanged. Wazîr Alî then began to expatiate

on his wrongs; and having pursued this subject for some time, he

suddenly rose with his attendants, and put to death Mr. Cherry and

Captain Conway, an English gentleman who happened to be present. The

assassins then rushed out, and meeting another Englishman named

Graham, they added him to the list of their victims. They thence

proceeded to the house of Mr. Davis, judge and magistrate, who had

just time to remove his family to an upper terrace, which could only

be reached by a very narrow staircase. At the top of this staircase,

Mr. Davis, armed with a spear, took his post, and so successfully did

he defend it, that the assailants, after several attempts to dislodge

him, were compelled to retire without effecting their object. The

benefit derived from the resistance of this intrepid man extended

beyond his own family: the delay thereby occasioned afforded to the

rest of the English inhabitants opportunity of escaping to the place

where the troops stationed for the protection of the city were

encamped. General Erskine, on learning what had occurred, dispatched

a party to the relief of Mr. Davis, and Wazîr Alî thereupon retired

to his own residence.' Wazîr Alî escaped, but was ultimately given up

by a chief with whom he had taken refuge, 'on condition that his life

should be spared, and that his limbs should not be disgraced by

chains'. Some of his accomplices were executed. 'He was confined at

Port William, in a sort of iron cage, where he died in May, 1817,

aged thirty-six, after an imprisonment of seventeen years and some

odd months.' (_Men whom India has Known_, 2nd ed., 1874, art. 'Vizier

Ali.') But Beale asserts that after many years' captivity in

Calcutta, the prisoner was removed to Vellore, where he died (_Or.

Biogr. Dict._, ed. Keene, 1894, p. 416). It will be observed that the

author was mistaken in supposing that 'all the European gentlemen,

except Mr. Davis and his family, were included in the massacre.'

21. These names stand in the original edition as 'Tyz Mahomed Khan,

of Ghujper,' and 'Tyz Alee Khan'. In 1857 the then Nawâb of Jhajjar

joined the rebels. He was accordingly hanged, and his estate was

confiscated. It is now included in the Rohtak District. See

Fanshawe's _Settlement Report_ of that District.

22. The disastrous retreat of Colonel Monson before Jeswant Râo

Holkâr during the rainy season of 1804 is one of the few serious

reverses which have interrupted the long series of British victories

in India. A considerable force under the command of Colonel Monson,

sent out by General Lake at the beginning of May in pursuit of

Holkâr, was withdrawn too far from its base, and was compelled to

retreat through Râjputâna, and fall back on Agra. During the retreat

the rains broke, and, under pressure caused by the difficulties of

the march and incessant attacks of the enemy, the Company's troops

became disorganized, and lost their guns and baggage. The shattered

remnants of the force straggled into Agra at the end of August. The

disgrace of this retreat was speedily avenged by the great victory of

Dîg.

23. This old Norman-French formula. Oyez, Oyez, meaning 'Hear!' is

still, or recently was, used at the Assizes in the High Court,

Calcutta. The formula would not now be heard at Delhi, or elsewhere

beyond the precincts of the High Court.

CHAPTER 65

Marriage of a Jât Chief.

ON the 19th[1] we came on to Balamgarh,[2] fifteen miles over a

plain, better cultivated and more studded with trees than that which

we had been coming over for many days before. The water was near the

surface, more of the field were irrigated, and those which were not

so looked better--[a] range of sandstone hills, ten miles off to the

west, running north and south. Balamgarh is held in rent-free tenure

by a young Jât chief, now about ten years of age. He resides in a mud

fort in a handsome palace built in the European fashion. In an

extensive orange garden, close outside the fort, he is building a

very handsome tomb over the spot where his father's elder brother was

buried. The whole is formed of white and black marble, and the firm

white sandstone of Rûpbâs, and so well conceived and executed as to

make it evident that demand is the only thing wanted to cover India

with works of art equal to any that were formed in the palmy days of

the Muhammadan empire.[3] The Râjâ's young sister had just been

married to the son of the Jât chief of Nâbhâ, who was accompanied in

his matrimonial visit (barât) by the chief of Ludhaura, and the son

of the Sikh chief of Patiâlâ,[4] with a _cortège_ of one hundred

elephants, and above fifteen thousand people.[5]

The young chief of Balamgarh mustered a _cortège_ of sixty elephants

and about ten thousand men to attend him out in the 'istikbâl', to

meet and welcome his guests. The bridegroom's party had to expend

about six hundred thousand rupees in this visit alone. They scattered

copper money all along the road from their homes to within seven

miles of Balamgarh. From this point to the gate of the fort they had

to scatter silver, and from this gate to the door of the palace they

scattered gold and jewels of all kinds. The son of the Patiâlâ chief,

a lad of about ten years of age, sat upon his elephant with a bag

containing six hundred gold mohurs of two guineas each, mixed up with

an infinite variety of gold earrings, pearls, and precious stones,

which he scattered in handfuls among the crowd. The scattering of the

copper and silver had been left to inferior hands. The costs of the

family of the bride are always much greater than that of the

bridegroom; they are obliged to entertain at their own expense all

the bridegroom's guests as well as their own, as long as they remain;

and over and above this, on the present occasion, the Râjâ gave a

rupee to every person that came, invited or uninvited. An immense

concourse of people had assembled to share in this donation, and to

scramble for the money scattered along the road; and ready money

enough was not found in the treasury. Before a further supply could

be got, thirty thousand more had collected, and every one got his

rupee. They have them all put into pens like sheep. When all are in,

the doors are opened at a signal given, and every person is paid his

rupee as he goes out. Some European gentlemen were standing upon the

top of the Râjâ's palace, looking at the procession as it entered the

fort, and passed underneath; and the young chief threw up some

handfuls of pearls, gold, and jewels among them. Not one of them

would of course condescend to stoop to take up any; but their

servants showed none of the same dignified forbearance.[6]

Notes:

1. January, 1836.

2. 'Balamgarh' is a mistake for Ballabgarh of _I. G._ (properly

Ballabhgarh), which is about twenty-four miles from Delhi. In 1857

the chief was hanged for rebellion. The estate was confiscated and

included in the Delhi District, under the Panjâb Government. From

October 1, 1912, that District ceased to exist. Part of the

Ballabhgarh sub-district has been included in the new Chief

Commissioner's Province of Delhi, and part in the Gurgâon District.

3. Few observers will accept this proposition without considerable

reservation.

4. Patiâlâ is the principal of the Cis-Satlaj Sikh Protected States.

Nâbhâ belongs to the same group. Both states are very loyal, and

supply Imperial Service troops. For a sketch of their history see

chapters 2 and 9 of Sir Lepel Griffin's _Ranjît Singh_.

5. The Sikh is a military nation formed out of the Jâts (who were

without a place among the castes of the Hindoos),[a] by that strong

bond of union, the love of conquest and plunder. Their religions and

civil codes are the Granths, books written by their reputed prophets,

the last of whom was Guru Govind,[b] in whose name Ranjît Singh

stamps his gold coins with this legend: 'The sword, the _pot_,

victory, and conquest were quickly found in the grace of Guru Govind

Singh,'[c] This prophet died insane in the end of the seventeenth

century. He was the son of a priest Têg Bahâdur, who was made a

martyr of by the bigoted Muhammadans of Patna in 1675. The son became

a Peter the Hermit, in the same manner as Hargovind before him, when

his father, Arjun Mal, was made a martyr by the fanaticism of the

same people. A few more such martyrdoms would have set the Sikhs up

for ever. They admit converts freely, and while they have a fair

prospect of conquest and plunder they will find them; but, when they

cease, they will be swallowed up in the great ocean of Hinduism,

since they have no chance of getting up an 'army of martyrs' while we

have the supreme power.[d] They detest us for the same reason that

the military followers of the other native chiefs detest us, because

we say 'Thus far shall you go, and no farther' in your career of

conquest and plunder.[e] As governors, they are even worse than the

Marâthâs--utterly detestable. They have not the slightest idea of a

duty towards the people from whose industry they are provided. Such a

thing was never dreamed of by a Sikh. They continue to receive in

marriage the daughters of Jâts, as in this case; but they will not

give their daughters to Jâts. [W. H. S.]

6. The Emperors of Delhi, from Jahângîr onwards, used to strike

special coins, generally of small size, bearing the word _nisâr_,

which means 'scattering', for the purpose of distribution among the

crowd on the occasion of a wedding, or other great festivity.

a. It has already been observed that the author was completely

mistaken in his estimate of the social position of Jâts. It is not

correct to say that they 'were without a place among the castes of

the Hindoos'. 'The Jât is in every respect the most important of the

Panjâb peoples. . . . The distinction between Jât and Râjpût is

social rather than ethnic. . . . Socially the Jât occupies a position

which is shared by the Rôr, the Gûjar, and the Ahîr; all four eating

and smoking together. Among the races of purely Hindoo origin I think

that the Jât stands next after the Brahman, the Râjpût, and the

Khatrî. . . . There are Jâts and Jâts. . . . His is the highest of

the castes practising widow marriage.' (Ibbetson, _Outlines of Panjâb

Ethnography_, Calcutta, 1883, pp. 220 sqq.) The Jâts in the United

Provinces occupy much the same relative position.

b. The Sikhs are mostly, but not all, Jâts. The organization is

essentially a religions one, and a few Brahmans and many members of

various other castes join it. Even sweepers are admitted with certain

limitations. The word Sikh means 'disciple'. Nânak Shâh, the founder,

was born in A.D. 1469. The _Âdi Granth_, the Sikh Bible, containing

compositions by Nânak, his next four successors, and other persons,

was completed in 1604. A second _Granth_ was compiled in 1734 by

Govind Singh, the tenth Guru. The only authoritative version of the

Sikh scriptures is the great work by Macauliffe, _The Sikh Religion_

(Oxford, 1909, 6 vols.).

The political power of the sect rested on the institutions of Guru

Govind, as framed between 1690 and 1708. In 1764 the Sikhs occupied

Lahore. Full details of their history will be found in Cunningham, _A

History of the Sikhs_ (1st ed., 2 vols. 8vo, London, 1849, suppressed

and scarce; 2nd ed. 1853); and more briefly in Sir Lepel Griffin's

excellent little book, _Ranjît Singh_ (Oxford, 'Rulers of India'

series, 1892).

c. See R. 0. Temple, 'The Coins of the Modern Chiefs of the Panjâb'

(_Ind. Ant._, vol. xviii (1889), pp. 321-41); and C. J. Rodgers, 'On

the Coins of the Sikhs' (_J.A.S.B._, vol. 1. Part I (1881), pp. 71-

93). The couplet is in Persian, which may be transliterated thus:--

Dêg, têgh, wa fath, wa nasrat bê darang

Yâft az Nânak Gûrû Govind Singh.

The word _dêg_, meaning pot or cauldron, is used as a symbol of

plenty. The correct rendering is:--

Plenty, the sword, victory, and help without delay,

Gûrû Govind Singh obtained from Nânak.

d. This prophecy has not been fulfilled. The annexation of the Panjâb

in 1849 put an end to Sikh hopes of 'conquest and plunder', and yet

the sect has not been 'swallowed up in the great ocean of Hinduism'.

At the census of 1881 its numbers were returned as 1,853,426, or

nearly two millions, for all India. The corresponding figure for 1891

is 1,907,833. At the time of the first British census of 1855 the

outside influences were depressing: the great Khâlsa army had fallen,

and Sikh fathers were slow to bring forward their sons for baptism

(_pâhul_). The Mutiny, in the suppression of which the Sikhs took so

great a part, worked a change. The Sikhs recovered their spirits and

self-respect, and found honourable careers open in the British army

and constabulary. 'Thus the creed received a new impulse, and many

sons of Sikhs, whose baptism had been deferred, received the _pâhul_,

while new candidates from among the Jâts and lower caste Hindoos

joined the faith.' Some reaction then, perhaps, took place, but, on

the whole, the numbers of the sect have been maintained or increased.

(Sir Lepel Griffin, _Ranjît Singh_, pp. 25-34.) For various reasons,

which I have not space to explain, the statistics of Sikhism are

untrustworthy. The returns for 1911 show an increase of 37 per cent.

in the Panjâb. We may, at least, be assured that the numbers are not

diminishing.

e. The Sikhs do not now detest us. They willingly furnish soldiers

and military police of the best class, equal to the Gôrkhâs, and fit

to fight in line with English soldiers. The Panjâb chieftains have

been among the foremost in offers of loyal assistance to the

Government of India in times of danger, and in organizing the

Imperial Service troops. The Sikh states are now sufficiently well

governed.

CHAPTER 66

Collegiate Endowment of Muhammadan Tombs and Mosques.

On the 20th[1] we came to Badarpur, twelve miles over a plain, with

the range of hills on our left approaching nearer and nearer the

road, and separating us from the old city of Delhi. We passed through

Farîdpur, once a large town, and called after its founder, Shaikh

Farîd, whose mosque is still in good order, though there is no person

to read or hear prayers in it.[2] We passed also two fine bridges,

one of three, and one of four arches, both over what were once

streams, but are now dry beds of sand.[3] The whole road shows signs

of having been once thickly peopled, and highly adorned with useful

and ornamental works when Delhi was in its glory.

Every handsome mausoleum among Muhammadans was provided with its

mosque, and endowed by the founder with the means of maintaining men

of learning to read their Korân over the grave of the deceased and in

his chapel; and, as long as the endowment lasted, the tomb continued

to be at the same time a college. They read the Korân morning and

evening over the grave, and prayers in the chapel at the stated

periods; and the rest of their time is commonly devoted to the

instruction of the youths of their neighbourhood, either gratis or

for a small consideration. Apartments in the tomb were usually set

aside for the purpose, and these tombs did ten times more for

education in Hindustan than all the colleges formed especially for

the purpose.[4] We might suppose that rulers who formed and endowed

such works all over the land must have had more of the respect and

the affections of the great mass of the people than we, who, as my

friend upon the Jumna has it, 'build nothing but private dwelling-

houses, factories, courts of justice, and jails', can ever have; but

this conclusion would not be altogether just.[5] Though every mosque

and mausoleum was a seat of learning, that learning, instead of being

a source of attraction and conciliation between the Muhammadans and

Hindoos, was, on the contrary, a source of perpetual repulsion and

enmity between them--it tended to keep alive in the breasts of the

Musalmâns a strong feeling of religions indignation against the

worshippers of idols; and of dread and hatred in those of the

Hindoos.

The Korân was the Book of books, spoken by God to the angel Gabriel

in parts as occasion required, and repeated by him to Muhammad; who,

unable to write himself, dictated them to any one who happened to be

present when he received the divine communications;[6] it contained

all that it was worth man's while to study or know--it was from the

Deity, but at the same time coeternal with Him--it was His divine

eternal spirit, inseparable from Him from the beginning, and

therefore, like Him, uncreated. This book, to read which was of

itself declared to be the highest of all species of worship, taught

war against the worshippers of idols to be of all merits the greatest

in the eye of God; and no man could well rise from the perusal

without the wish to serve God by some act of outrage against them.

These buildings were, therefore, looked upon by the Hindoos, who

composed the great mass of the people, as a kind of religions

volcanoes, always ready to explode and pour out their lava of

intolerance and outrage upon the innocent people of the surrounding

country.

If a Hindoo fancied himself injured or insulted by a Muhammadan he

was apt to revenge himself upon the Muhammadans generally, and insult

their religion by throwing swine's flesh, or swine's blood, into one

of their tombs or churches; and the latter either flew to arms at

once to revenge their God, or retaliated by throwing the flesh or the

blood of the cow into the first Hindoo temple at hand, which made the

Hindoos fly to arms. The guilty and the wicked commonly escaped,

while numbers of the weak, the innocent and the unoffending were

slaughtered. The magnificent buildings, therefore, instead of being

at the time bonds of union, were commonly sources of the greatest

discord among the whole community, and of the most painful

humiliation to the Hindoo population. During the bigoted reign of

Aurangzêb and his successors a Hindoo's presence was hardly tolerated

within sight of these tombs or churches; and had he been discovered

entering one of them, he would probably have been hunted down like a

mad dog. The recollection of such outrages, and the humiliation to

which they gave rise, associated as they always are in the minds of

the Hindoos with the sight of these buildings, are perhaps the

greatest source of our strength in India; because they at the same

time feel that it is to us alone they owe the protection which they

now enjoy from similar injuries. Many of my countrymen, full of

virtuous indignation at the outrages which often occur during the

processions of the Muharram, particularly when these happen to take

place at the same time with some religious procession of the Hindoos,

are very anxious that our Government should interpose its authority

to put down both. But these processions and occasional outrages are

really sources of great strength to us; they show at once the

necessity for the interposition of an impartial tribunal, and a

disposition on the part of the rulers to interpose impartially. The

Muhammadan festivals are regulated by the lunar, and those of the

Hindoos by the solar year, and they cross each other every thirty or

forty years, and furnish fair occasions for the local authorities to

interpose effectually.[7] People who receive or imagine insults or

injuries commonly postpone their revenge till these religious

festivals come round, when they hope to be able to settle their

accounts with impunity among the excited crowd. The mournful

procession of the Muharram, when the Muhammadans are inflamed to

madness by the recollection of the really affecting incidents of the

massacre of the grandchildren of their prophet, and by the images of

their tombs, and their sombre music,[8] crosses that of the Holî[9]

(in which the Hindoos are excited to tumultuous and licentious joy by

their bacchanalian songs and dances) every thirty-six years; and they

reign together for some four or five days, during which the scene in

every large town is really terrific. The processions are liable to

meet in the street, and the lees of the wine of the Hindoos, or the

red powder which is substituted for them, is liable to fall upon the

tombs of the others. Hindoos pass on, forgetting in their saturnalian

joy all distinctions of age, sex, or religion, their clothes and

persons besmeared with the red powder, which is moistened and thrown

from all kinds of machines over friend and foe; while meeting these

come the Muhammadans, clothed in their green mourning, with gloomy

downcast looks, beating their breasts, ready to kill themselves, and

too anxious for an excuse to kill anybody else. Let but one drop of

the lees of joy fall upon the image of the tomb as it passes, and a

hundred swords fly from their scabbards; many an innocent person

falls; and woe be to the town in which the magistrate is not at hand

with his police and military force. Proudly conscious of their power,

the magistrates refuse to prohibit one class from laughing because

the other happens to be weeping; and the Hindoos on such occasions

laugh the more heartily to let the world see that they are free to do

so.

A very learned Hindoo once told me in Central India that the oracle

of Mahâdêo had been at the same time consulted at three of his

greatest temples--one in the Deccan, one in Râjputâna, and one, I

think, in Bengal--as to the result of the government of India by

Europeans, who seemed determined to fill all the high offices of

administration with their own countrymen, to the exclusion of the

people of the country. A day was appointed for the answer; and when

the priest came to receive it they found Mahâdêo (Siva) himself with

a European complexion, and dressed in European clothes. He told them

that their European Government was in reality nothing more than a

multiplied incarnation of himself; and that he had come among them in

this shape to prevent their cutting each other's throats as they had

been doing for some centuries past; that these, his incarnations,

appeared to have no religion themselves in order that they might be

the more impartial arbitrators between the people of so many

different creeds and sects who now inhabited the country; that they

must be aware that they never had before been so impartially

governed, and that they must continue to obey these their governors,

without attempting to pry further into futurity or the will of the

gods. Mahâdêo performs a part in the great drama of the Râmâyana, or

the Rape of Sîta, and he is the only figure there that is represented

with a _white face_.[10]

I was one day praising the law of primogeniture among ourselves to a

Muhammadan gentleman of high rank, and defending it on the ground

that it prevented that rivalry and bitterness of feeling among

brothers which were always found among the Muhammadans, whose law

prescribes an equal division of property, real and personal, among

the sons, and the _choice of the wisest_ among them as successor to

the government.[11] 'This', said he, 'is no doubt the source of our

weakness, but why should you condemn a law which is to you a source

of so much strength? I, one day', said he, 'asked Mr. Seaton, the

Governor-General's representative at the court of Delhi, which of all

things he had seen in India he liked best. "You have", replied he,

smiling, "a small species of melon called 'phût' (disunion); this is

the thing we like best in your land." There was', continued my

Muhammadan friend, 'an infinite deal of sound political wisdom in

this one sentence. Mr. Seaton was a very good and a very wise man.

Our European governors of the present day are not at all the same

kind of thing. I asked Mr. B., a judge, the same question many years

afterwards, and he told me that he thought the rupees were the best

things he had found in India. I asked Mr. T., the Commissioner, and

he told me that he thought the tobacco which he smoked in his hookah

was the best thing. And pray, sir, what do you think the best thing?'

'Why, Nawâb Sâhib, I am always very well pleased when I am free from

pain, and can get my nostrils full of cool air, and my mouth full of

cold water in this hot land of yours; and I think most of my

countrymen are the same. Next to these, the thing we all admire most

in India, Nawâb Sâhib, is the entire exemption which you and I and

every other gentleman, native or European, enjoy from the taxes which

press so heavily upon them in other countries.[12] In Kâshmîr, no

midwife is allowed to attend a woman in her confinement till a heavy

tax has been paid to Ranjît Singh for the infant; and in England, a

man cannot let the light of heaven into his house till he has paid a

tax for the window.'[13]

'Nor keep a dog, nor shoot a partridge in the jungle, I am told,'

said the Nawâb.

'Quite true, Nawâb Sâhib.'

'Hindustan, sir,' said he, 'is, after all, the best country in the

world; the only thing wanted is a little more (_rozgâr_) employment

for the educated classes under Government.'

'True, Nawâb Sâhib, we might, no doubt, greatly multiply this

employment to the advantage of those who got the places, but we

should have to multiply at the same time the taxes, to the great

disadvantage of those who did not get them.'

'True, very true, sir,' said my old friend.

Notes:

1. January, 1836.

2. Farîdpur is a mistake for Farîdâbâd, a small town sixteen miles

from Delhi, founded in 1607 by Shaikh Farîd, treasurer of Jahângîr,

to protect the high road between Agra and Delhi.

3. The beds are dry in the cold season, but the streams, which flow

from the hills to the south of Delhi, are torrents in the rainy

season.

4. But the education in such schools is of very little value, being

commonly confined to the committing of the Korân to memory by boys

ignorant of Arabic.

5. In modern India the British buildings are far more varied, and

many aspire to some architectural merit.

6. Muhammad is said to have received these communications in all

situations; sometimes when riding along the road on his camel, he

became suddenly red in the face, and greatly agitated; he made his

camel sit down immediately, and called for some one to write. His

rhapsodies were all written at the time on leaves and thrown into a

box. Gabriel is believed to have made him repeat over the whole once

every year during the month of Ramazân. In the year he died Muhammad

told his followers that the angel had made him repeat them over twice

that year, and that he was sure he would not live to receive another

visit. [W. H. S.]

7. The Muhammadan year consists of twelve lunar months of 30 and 29

days alternately. The common year, therefore, consists of only 354

days. But, when intercalary days in certain years are allowed for,

the mean year consists of 354 11/30 days. Inasmuch as a solar year

consists of about 365 1/4 days, the difference amounts to nearly 11

days, and any given month in the Muhammadan year consequently goes

the round of the seasons in course of time.

8. The Muharram celebration takes its name from the first month of

the Muhammadan year, during which it takes place. Alî, the cousin of

Muhammad, was married to the prophet's daughter Fatima, and,

according to the Shîa sect, must be regarded as the lawful successor

of Muhammad, who died in June, A.D. 632. But, as a matter of fact,

Omar, Abû Bakr, and Othmân (Usmân) in turn succeeded to the

Khalîfate, and Alî did not take possession of the office till A.D.

655. After five and a half years' reign he was assassinated in

January, A.D. 661, and his son Hasan, who for a few months had held

the vacant office, was poisoned in A.D. 670. Husain, the younger son

of Alî, strove to assert his rights by force of arms, but was slain

on the tenth day of the month Muharram (10th October, A.D. 680) in a

great battle fought at Karbalâ near the Euphrates. These events are

commemorated yearly by noisy funeral processions. Properly, the

proceedings ought to be altogether mournful, and confined to the Shîa

sect, but in practice, Sunnî Muhammadans, and even Hindoos, take part

in the ceremonies, which are regarded by many of the populace as no

more solemn than a Lord Mayor's show.

9. The disgusting festival of the Holî, celebrated with drunkenness

and obscenity, takes place in March, and is supposed to be the

festival of the vernal equinox (see _ante_, chapter 27 note 16). The

magistrates in India have no duty which requires more tact,

discretion, and firmness than the regulation of conflicting religions

processions. The general disarmament of the people has rendered

collisions less dangerous and sanguinary than they used to be, but,

in spite of all precautions, they still occur occasionally. The total

prohibition of processions likely to cause collisions is, of course,

impracticable.

10. Ante chapter 15 text at [9].

11. Muslim daughters also succeed, each taking half the share of a

son.

12. _Tempora mutantur_. The land revenue, in the author's time, fully

preserved its character of rent, and obviously was not a tax. Later

legislation has obscured its real nature, and made it look like a

tax. When the author wrote, the only taxes levied were indirect ones,

as that on salt, which was paid unconsciously. The modern income-tax,

local rates, municipal taxation, and gun licences were all unknown.

13. The window tax was levied at varying rates from 1697 to 1851.

CHAPTER 67

The Old City of Delhi.

On the 21st we went on eight miles to the Kutb Mînâr, across the

range of sandstone hills, which rise to the height of about two

hundred feet, and run north and south. The rocks are for the most

part naked, but here and there the soil between them is covered with

_famished_ grass, and a few stunted shrubs; anything more

unprepossessing can hardly be conceived than the aspect of these

hills, which seem to serve no other purpose than to store up heat for

the people of the great city of Delhi. We passed through a cut in

this range of hills, made apparently by the stream of the river Jumna

at some remote period, and about one hundred yards wide at the

entrance. This cut is crossed by an enormous stone wall running north

and south, and intended to shut in the waters, and form a lake in the

opening beyond it. Along the brow of the precipice, overlooking the

northern end of the wall, is the stupendous fort of Tughlakâbâd,

built by the Emperor Tughlak the First[1] of the sandstones of the

range of hills on which it stands, cut into enormous square

blocks.[2]

On the brow of the opposite side of the precipice, overlooking the

southern end of the wall, stands the fort of Muhammadâbâd, built by

this Emperor's son and successor, Muhammad, and resembling in all

things that built by his father.[3] These fortresses overlooked the

lake, with the old city of Delhi spread out on the opposite side of

it to the west. There is a third fortress upon an isolated hill, east

of the great barrier wall, said to have been built in honour of his

master by the Emperor Tughlak's _barber_.[4] The Emperor's tomb

stands upon an isolated rock in the middle of the once lake, now

plain, about a mile to the west of the barrier wall. The rock is

connected with the western extremity of the northern fortress by a

causeway of twenty-five arches, and about one hundred and fifty yards

long. This is a fine tomb, and contains in a square centre room the

remains of the Emperor Tughlak, his wife, and his son. The tomb is

built of red sandstone, and surmounted by a dome of white marble. The

three graves inside are built of brick covered with stucco work. The

outer sides of the tomb slope slightly inwards from the base, in the

form of a pyramid; but the inner walls are, of course,

perpendicular.[5]

The impression left on the mind after going over these stupendous

fortifications is that the arts which contribute to the comforts and

elegancies of life must have been in a very rude state when they were

raised. Domestic architecture must have been wretched in the extreme.

The buildings are all of stone, and almost all without cement, and

seem to have been raised by giants, and for giants, whose arms were

against everybody, and everybody's arm against them. This was indeed

the state of the Pathân sovereigns in India--they were the creatures

of their armies; and their armies were also employed against the

people, who feared and detested them all.[6]

The Emperor Tughlak, on his return at the head of the army, which he

had led into Bengal to chastise some rebellious subjects, was met at

Afghânpur by his eldest son, Jûnâ, whom he had left in the government

of the capital. The prince had in three days raised here a palace of

wood for a grand entertainment to do honour to his father's return;

and when the Emperor signified his wish to retire, all the courtiers

rushed out before him to be in attendance, and among the rest, Jûnâ

himself. Five attendants only remained when the Emperor rose from his

seat, and at that moment the building fell in and crushed them and

their master. Jûnâ had been sent at the head of an army into the

Deccan, where he collected immense wealth from the plunder of the

palaces of princes and the temples of their priests, the only places

in which much wealth was to be found in those days. This wealth he

tried to conceal from his father, whose death he probably thus

contrived, that he might the sooner have the free enjoyment of it

with unlimited power.[7]

Only thirty years before, Alâ-ud-dîn, returning in the same manner at

the head of an army from the Deccan loaded with wealth, murdered the

Emperor Fîrôz the Second, the father of his wife, and ascended the

throne.[8] Jûnâ ascended the throne under the name of Muhammad the

Third;[9] and, after the remains of his father had been deposited in

the tomb I have described, he passed in great pomp and splendour from

the fortress of Tughlakâbâd, which his father had just then

completed, to the city in which the Mînâr stands, with elephants

before and behind loaded with gold and silver coins, which were

scattered among the crowd, who everywhere hailed him with shouts of

joy. The roads were covered with flowers, the houses adorned with the

richest stuffs, and the streets resounded with music.

He was a man of great learning, and a great patron of learned men; he

was a great founder of churches, had prayers read in them at the

prescribed times, and always went to prayers five times a day

himself.[10] He was rigidly temperate himself in his habits, and

discouraged all intemperance in others. These things secured him

panegyrists throughout the empire during the twenty-seven years that

he reigned over it, though perhaps he was the most detestable tyrant

that ever filled a throne. He would take his armies out over the most

populous and peaceful districts, and hunt down the innocent and

unoffending people like wild beasts, and bring home their heads by

thousands to hang them on the city gates for his mere amusement. He

twice made the whole people of the city of Delhi emigrate with him to

Daulatâbâd in Southern India, which he wished to make the capital,

from some foolish fancy; and during the whole of his reign gave

evident signs of being in an unsound state of mind.[11] There was at

the time of his father's death a saint at Delhi named Nizâmuddîn

Aulia, or the Saint, who was supposed by supernatural means to have

driven from Delhi one night in a panic a large army of Moghals under

Tarmasharîn, who invaded India from Transoxiana in 1303, and laid

close siege to the city of Delhi, in which the Emperor Alâ-ud-dîn was

shut up without troops to defend himself, his armies being engaged in

Southern India.[12] It is very likely that he did strike this army

with a panic by getting some of their leaders assassinated in one

night. He was supposed to have the 'dast ul ghaib', or supernatural

purse' [literally, 'invisible hand'], as his private expenditure is

said to have been more lavish even than that of the Emperor himself,

while he had no ostensible source of income whatever. The Emperor was

either jealous of his influence and display, or suspected him of dark

crimes, and threatened to humble him when he returned to Delhi. As he

approached the city, the friends of the saint, knowing the resolute

spirit of the Emperor, urged him to quit the capital, as he had been

often heard to say, 'Let me but reach Delhi, and this proud priest

shall be humbled'.

The only reply that the saint would ever deign to give from the time

the imperial army left Bengal, till it was within one stage of the

capital, was '_Dihlî dûr ast_'; 'Delhi is still far off'. This is now

become a proverb over the East equivalent to our 'There is many a

slip between the cup and the lip'. It is probable that the saint had

some understanding with the son in his plans for the murder of his

father; it is possible that his numerous wandering disciples may in

reality have been murderers and robbers, and that he could at any

time have procured through them the assassination of the Emperor. The

Muhammadan Thugs, or assassins of India, certainly looked upon him as

one of the great founders of their system, and used to make

pilgrimages to his tomb as such; and, as he came originally from

Persia, and is considered by his greatest admirers to have been in

his youth a robber, it is not impossible that he may have been

originally one of the 'assassins', or disciples of the 'old man of

the mountains', and that he may have set up the system of Thuggee in

India and derived a great portion of his income from it.[13] Emperors

now prostrate themselves, and aspire to have their bones placed near

it [_scil._ the tomb]. While wandering about the ruins, I remarked to

one of the learned men of the place who attended us that it was

singular Tughlak's buildings should be so rude compared with those of

Iltutmish, who had reigned more than eighty years before him.[14]

'Not at all singular,' said he, 'was he not under the curse of the

holy saint Nizâm-ud-dîn?' 'And what had the Emperor done to merit the

holy man's curse?' 'He had taken by force to employ upon his palaces

several of the masons whom the holy man was employing upon a church,'

said he.

The Kutb Mînâr was, I think, more beyond my expectations than the

Tâj; first, because I had heard less of it; and secondly, because it

stands as it were alone in India--there is absolutely no other tower

in this Indian empire of ours.[15]

Large pillars have been cut out of single stones, and raised in

different parts of India to commemorate the conquests of Hindoo

princes, whose names no one was able to discover for several

centuries, till an unpretending English gentleman of surprising

talents and industry, Mr. James Prinsep, lately brought them to light

by mastering the obsolete characters in which they and their deeds

had been inscribed upon them.[16] These pillars would, however, be

utterly insignificant were they composed of many stones. The

knowledge that they are cut out of single stones, brought from a

distant mountain, and raised by the united efforts of multitudes when

the mechanical arts were in a rude state, makes us still view them

with admiration.[17] But the single majesty of this Mînâr of Kutb-ud-

dîn, so grandly conceived, so beautifully proportioned, so chastely

embellished, and so exquisitely finished, fills the mind of the

spectator with emotions of wonder and delight; without any such aid,

he feels that it is among the towers of the earth what the Tâj is

among the tombs--something unique of its kind that must ever stand

alone in his recollections.[18]

It is said to have taken forty-four years in building, and formed the

left of two 'mînârs' of a mosque. The other 'mînâr' was never

raised, but this has been preserved and repaired by the liberality of

the British Government.[19] It is only 242 feet high, and 106 feet in

circumference at the base. It is circular, and fluted vertically into

twenty-seven semicircular and angular divisions. There are four

balconies, supported upon large stone brackets, and surrounded with

battlements of richly cut stone, to enable people to walk round the

tower with safety. The first is ninety feet from the base, the second

fifty feet further up, the third forty further; and the fourth

twenty-four feet above the third. Up to the third balcony, the tower

is built of fine, but somewhat ferruginous sandstone, whose surface

has become red from exposure to the oxygen of the atmosphere. Up to

the first balcony, the flutings are alternately semicircular and

angular; in the second story they are all semicircular, and in the

third all angular. From the third balcony to the top, the building is

composed chiefly of white marble; and the surface is without the deep

flutings. Around the first story there are five horizontal belts of

passages from the Korân, engraved in bold relief, and in the Kufic

character. In the second story there are four, and in the third

three. The ascent is by a spiral staircase within, of three hundred

and eighty steps; and there are passages from this staircase to the

balconies, with others here and there for the admission of light and

air.[20]

A foolish notion has prevailed among some people, over-fond of

paradox, that this tower is in reality a Hindoo building, and not, as

commonly supposed, a Muhammadan one. Never was paradox supported upon

more frail, I might say absurd, foundations. They are these: 1st,

that there is only one Mînâr, whereas there ought to have been two--

had the unfinished one been intended as the second, it would not have

been, as it really is, larger than the first; 2nd, that other

Mînârs seen in the present day either do not slope inward from the

base up at all, or do not slope so much as this. I tried to trace the

origin of this paradox, and I think I found it in a silly old

'munshî' (clerk) in the service of the Emperor. He told me that he

believed it was built by a former Hindoo prince for his daughter, who

wished to worship the rising sun, and view the waters of the Jumna

from the top of it every morning.[21]

There is no other Hindoo building like, or of the same kind as

this;[22] the ribbons or belts of passages from the Korân are all in

relief; and had they not been originally inserted as they are, the

whole surface of the building must have been cut down to throw them

out in bold relief. The slope is the peculiar characteristic of all

the architecture of the Pathâns, by whom the church to which this

tower belongs was built.[23] Nearly all the arches of the church are

still standing in a more or less perfect state, and all correspond in

design, proportion, and execution to the tower. The ruins of the old

Hindoo temples about the place, and about every other place in India,

are totally different in all three; here they are all exceedingly

paltry and insignificant, compared with the church and its tower, and

it is evident that it was the intention of the founder to make them

appear so to future generations of the faithful, for he has taken

care to make his own great work support rather than destroy them,

that they might for ever tend to enhance its grandeur.[24] It is

sufficiently clear that the unfinished mînâr was commenced upon too

large a scale, and with too small a diminution of the circumference

from the base upwards. It is two-fifths larger than the finished

tower in circumference, and much more perpendicular. Finding these

errors when they had got some thirty feet from the foundation, the

founder, Shams-ud-dîn (Îltutmish), began to work anew, and had he

lived a little longer, there is no doubt that he would have raised

the second tower in its proper place, upon the same scale as the one

completed. His death was followed by several successive revolutions;

five sovereigns succeeded each other on the throne of Delhi in ten

years.[25] As usual on such occasions, works of peace were suspended,

and succeeding sovereigns sought renown in military enterprise rather

than in building churches. This church was entire, with the exception

of the second mînâr, when Tamerlane invaded India.[26] He took back a

model of it with him to Samarkand, together with all the masons he

could find at Delhi, and is said to have built a church upon the same

plan at that place, before he set out for the invasion of Syria.

The west face of the quadrangle, in which the tower stands, formed

the church, which consisted of eleven large arched alcoves, the

centre and largest of which contained the pulpit. In size and beauty

they seem to have corresponded with the Mînâr, but they are now all

in ruins.[27] In the front of the centre of these alcoves stands the

metal pillar of the old Hindoo sovereign of Delhi, Prithî Râj, across

whose temple all the great mosque, of which this tower forms a part,

was thrown in triumph. The ruins of these temples he scattered all

round the place, and consist of colonnades of stone pillars and

pedestals, richly enough carved with human figures, in attitudes

rudely and obscenely conceived. The small pillar is of bronze, or a

metal which resembles bronze, and is softer than brass, and of the

same form precisely as that of the stone pillar at Eran, on the Bînâ

river in Mâlwâ, upon which stands the figure of Krishna, with the

glory around his head.[28]

It is said that this metal pillar was put down through the earth, so

as to rest upon the very head of the snake that supports the world;

and that the sovereign who made it, and fixed it upon so firm a

basis, was told by his spiritual advisers that his dynasty should

last as long as the pillar remained where it was. Anxious to see that

the pillar was really where the priests supposed it to be, that his

posterity might be quite sure of their position, Prithî Râj had it

taken up, and he found the blood and some of the flesh of the snake's

head adhering to the bottom. By this means the charm was broken, and

the priests told him that he had destroyed all the hopes of his house

by his want of faith in their assurances. I have never met a Hindoo

that doubted either that the pillar was really upon this snake's

head, or that the king lost his crown by his want of faith in the

assurance of his priests. They all believe that the pillar is still

stuck into the head of the great snake, and that no human efforts of

the present day could remove it. On my way back to my tents, I asked

the old Hindoo officer of my guard, who had gone with me to see the

metal pillar, what he thought of the story of the pillar?

'What the people relate about the "kîlî" (pillar) having been stuck

into the head of the snake that supports the world, sir, is nothing

more than a simple _historical_ fact known to everybody. Is it not

so, my brothers?' turning to the Hindoo sipâhîs and followers around

us, who all declared that no fact could ever be better established.