mosque at Cordova. A thousand unmatched columns stand in utter
confusion of irregular lines, producing a distressing sensation of an
unfinished structure ready to fall into ruins. Every style is here, and
materials of every description, brought hither--as we are told by the
inscription engraved over one of the lofty pointed doorways--from the
temples of the unbelievers destroyed by Shah Mahmoud Bogarat, the taker
of cities, that he might, out of their remains, raise this mosque to the
glory of Allah. In the centre of the arcade a large flagstone covers the
Jaïn idol, which was formerly worshipped here; and my servant Abibulla,
as a good Moslem, stamped his foot on the stone under which lies the
"contemptible image." Some workmen were carving a column; they had
climbed up and squatted balanced; they held their tools with their toes,
just chipping at the marble in a way that seemed to make no impression,
chattering all the time in short words that seemed all of vowels.
Behind this mosque, by narrow alleys hung with airy green silk that had
just been dyed and spread to dry in the sun, we made our way to the
mausoleum of Badorgi Shah: a cloister, an arcade of octagonal columns
carved with flowers, and in the court, the tombs of white stone, covered
with inscriptions, that look like arabesques. There are some children's
tombs, too, quite small, in finer and even whiter stone, and two tiny
stones under which lie Badorgi's parrot and cat.
PALITANA
The carriage of the Rajah of Palitana awaited us this morning at Songad.
As an escort two sowars in long blue cloaks and red turbans, their guns
slung behind them, galloped by our vehicle. On each side of the road lay
fields of scorched grass, quite burnt and very fine, glistening like
silk, reflecting the sun as far as we could see.
In the middle of a large garden outside the town was the visitors'
bungalow, the divan, where the prince's prime minister received us, and
made us welcome on behalf of his master. Hardly were we seated when in
came the Rajah, driving two wonderful horses drawing a phaeton. Dressed
in a long black coat over very narrow trousers of white muslin, Gohel
Sheri Man Sinjhi wore a turban, slightly tilted from the left side, and
made of hundreds of fine pale green cords rolled round and round. The
Prince of Morvi, and another of the Rajah's cousins, followed in
perfectly appointed carriages, drawn by thoroughbreds. Last of all,
carried by an attendant from her landau to the large reception-room
where we sat gravely in a circle, came a little princess of seven years
old, the Rajah's daughter. Enormous black eyes with dark blue lights,
her tawny skin a foil to her jewels, and the gold and silver embroidery
of a little violet velvet coat open over a long tunic of green silk,
trousers of pink satin, and yellow leather slippers. A plum-coloured
cap, worked with gold trefoils, was set very straight on her black hair;
she wore, in her ears, slender rings of gold filigree, and had a
nose-stud of a fine pearl set in gold. She stood between her father's
knees, squeezing close up to him with downcast eyes, never daring to
stir but when we seemed to be paying no heed to her.
At the end of a quarter of an hour the princes drove off through a great
cloud of white dust sparkling in the sun, and raised by the carriages
and the escort of armed sowars.
In the afternoon the Minister came to take us to the palace. The Rajah,
with his cousins, met us at the foot of the grand staircase; a
detachment of sowars were on guard. With great ceremony, preceded and
followed by an army of officials and attendants, we went up to a room
where a silver throne, inlaid with gold, of exquisite workmanship,
between two armchairs of massive silver, looked quite out of keeping
with gilt wood chairs with tapestry seats, and the everlasting Brussels
carpet of poor and glaring design. On the various tables was the latest
trumpery from Oxford Street--plush frames and varnished wooden screens;
a shower of glass lustres hung from the ceiling.
Three musicians in white, with red turbans, squatted down on the ground
in front of us. One sang to the accompaniment of a viol with three
strings and nine frets, and a darboukha; a drawling strain, all on the
upper notes, and rising higher to a shrill monotonous wail, retarded, as
it were, to a rhythm against the accompaniment; then by degrees more
lively, faster and faster, ending with a sudden stop on a word of
guttural consonants. But the man began again; he sang for a long time,
varying the tunes, always returning to the first. But nothing of them
remains in my mind, not even the rhythm, only a vague recollection, a
singular echo, confused but charming, in spite of the weirdness of the
too high pitch.
Then two children, their pretty, fresh voices in unison, sang some
womanly songs, languishing ballads, swinging to a very indefinite
rhythm, and suggestive of slow dances and waving gauze scarves in
flowery gardens under the moonlight.
With tea a servant brought packets of betel in a chased gold box, with a
lid imitating a lotus flower. Then, when everybody was served, he
carefully replaced the precious object in an embroidered silk bag and
disappeared.
The little princess had made her way between the seats, close up to us;
she was wrapped in dark-coloured gauze, with woven gold borders, so
light! scarcely less light than the diaphanous material of the dress.
And as I admired this wonderful silk, the Rajah had some bayadères'
dresses brought out for me to see: twelve or fifteen skirts, one above
another, pleated and spangled with gold, yet, hanging to one finger,
scarcely the weight of a straw.
In a coach-house, through which we passed on our way to see the prince's
favourite horses with the state carriages--quite commonplace and
comfortable, and made at Palitana--was a _chigram_, off which its silk
cover was lifted; it was painted bright red and spangled with twinkling
copper nails. This carriage, which is hermetically closed when the Ranee
goes out in it, was lined with cloth-of-gold patterned with Gohel
Sheri's initials within a horseshoe: a little hand-glass on one of the
cushions, two boxes of chased silver, the curtains and hangings redolent
of otto of roses.
A carriage with four horses, and servants in dark green livery thickly
braided with silver, and gold turbans with three raised corners very
like the cocked hats of the French Guards, were standing in the Court of
Honour. The little princess took a seat between her father and me. To
drive out she had put on an incredible necklace with bosses of diamonds
and heavy emerald pendants. With her talismans round her neck in little
gold boxes, with this necklace of light, and rings of precious stones in
her ears, she looked like a too exquisite idol, motionless and silent.
It was not till we were returning and the falling night hid her
glittering jewels that she chirped a few words, and consented to give me
her hand, and even sang a few crystal notes of a favourite song. A
little princess of seven years who can already read and write, sew and
embroider, sing in time, and dance as lightly, I should fancy, as a
butterfly with her tiny feet, that fidget in her gold slippers when she
hears the music--though, frightened lest the Rajah should make her dance
before me, she denied it altogether--a little princess, an only child,
whom her father takes with him everywhere that she may see something of
the world before she is eleven years old, for after that she will never
leave her mother's zenana but to marry and be shut up in another harem.
On the road the people bowed low as we passed, almost to the earth. The
women, in token of respect, turned their backs and crouched down.
In the prince's stables were a long row of brood mares and superb
stallions; and then a hundred or so of colts were turned out into the
yard--mischievous, frisking things, romping against each other, suddenly
stopping short, and wrapped ere long in white dust, which fell on us,
too.
The Prince of Morvi came before sunrise to take us to the temples of
Satrunji. On the way we outstripped carts packed full of women and
children in light shimmering muslins. They were all making a pilgrimage
to the sacred hill, singing shrill chants in time to the jolting of
their springless vehicles, and broken by oaths and imprecations at the
stoppages occasioned by our expedition.
The holy hill, bristling at top with the conical roofs of the pagodas,
rises isolated in the vast stretch of silky grass, enclosed by a distant
fringe of pale violet heights. At the foot of the ascent--in some places
an incline, and in others a flight of steps going straight up to the
temples--bearers were waiting for us, and an armed escort. A mob of
pilgrims were shouting at the top of their voices, and did not cease
their squabbling till we began the climb in our most uncomfortable
palankins, etiquette forbidding us, alas! to get out of them. One of my
bearers, almost naked, with a mere rag of white cotton stuff round his
hips, had hanging from his left ear a ring with three pearls as large as
peas and of luminous sheen.
Stations for prayer stand all along the road; little open shrines, where
footprints are worshipped, stamped on flags of white marble, a large
footprint surrounded by a dozen of a child's foot.
In front of us were men loaded with bundles or with children; old women
gasping as they leaned on long staves; chattering women with green or
pink or white veils, their arms full of sheaves of flowers. By each
little temple--between which there are kiosks, sheltering innumerable
grinning idols--trees grow, and under their shade the pilgrims break the
climb with a short rest. In a palankin, carried by two men, a slim
woman's figure was borne past, in a pink gauze dress spangled with
silver; her feet and hands, beringed with silver and gold, were
exquisitely delicate. For an instant her veil blew aside, showing her
face, rigid with horrible white leprosy, only her almond-shaped black
eyes--beautiful eyes--were alive with intense brilliancy, full of
unfathomable woe.
In front of a statue of Kali with a hundred arms, surrounded by rough
votive offerings carved in wood, most of them representing legs, a man
was pouring out rice, and a whole flight of grey _leilas_--birds like
magpies--almost settled on his hands: birds of the temple, so familiar
that one even allowed me to catch it, and did not fly away at once when
I set it at liberty. There are rows of black Buddhas, white Buddhas,
Sivas painted red--terrible--straddling in fighting attitudes; pilgrims
without end bow and pray in front of each idol.
We reached the top of the hill, the sacred enclosure of the Jaïn
temples. A stoppage again and a fresh dispute. The priests would not
admit within the temples our soldiers, who wore shoes, belts, and
gun-straps made of the skins of dead beasts. The sowars wanted to go on,
declaring that they would take no orders from "such men, priests with
dyed beards, dressed in red flannel, with their turbans undone and
heated with rage."
The heavy door, plated with iron, was shut. Hubbub, shouts, thumps on
the wood with gun-stocks--nothing stirred, no reply.
I proposed to go in without the soldiers. Impossible, it was not
etiquette! I was the Rajah's guest. The Prince of Morvi and I could not
mingle with the crowd, our escort was necessary to isolate us. Well,
then, the soldiers must take off their shoes, and leave their belts and
guns at the door! Again impossible. Where would the prestige of the
uniform be?
My friend T----, long a resident in India, and quite unmoved by the
habitual turmoil of the native Hindoos, finally settled the difficulty
between the cabbage of the priests and the soldiers' goat; the men would
put on hemp-shoes, and we also, over our leather boots; as to the belt
and gun-slings, as they only touched the soldiers themselves, they could
defile nothing and might be allowed to pass.
So at last the door was opened.
On the very summit of the hill, all over the ravine which divided it
from another, and which has been filled up at an enormous cost, and then
on the top of that other hill beyond, temples are piled up, shining
against the too-blue sky, with pointed roofs of stone, scorched by the
sun or stained by the rain, and patterned with pale-hued lichens. Above
each a spear stands up, impaling a metal ball. In infinite variety,
differing in materials, style, and proportions, some quite small, as if
they had sprouted round the base of others that are gigantic, there are
here five thousand temples built by the faithful, who are incessantly
erecting more, devoting great fortunes to the vanity of leaving a chapel
that bears their name.
Spread before us in the iridescent atmosphere, the view extends over
Palitana under its blue veil of light smoke, over the verdant plain
chequered with plots of brown earth, and the winding ribbon of the
Satrunji, a river as sacred to the Jaïns as the Ganges is to the
Brahmins. And far away, vague in the distance, a light shimmering more
brightly where all is bright, lies the luminous breadth of the sea.
Just within the enclosure to our right is a tomb. A Mohammedan who came
forth to take the sacred hill, the brother of an emperor of Delhi, fell
dead at the foot of a Jaïn idol, which he had dared to touch with his
staff. How the legend developed it is impossible to say; but this
warrior, buried on the spot where he was stricken down by the divinity,
has the miraculous power of curing barrenness in the women who invoke
him. Votive offerings, little cradles daubed with yellow and red, are
heaped on the pavement and hang to the railing.
A wide avenue paved with marble, rising in broad steps, crosses the
hilltop between temples on either side, intersecting narrower alleys,
likewise bordered with pagodas crowded together in the inextricable
mazes of a labyrinth, whence our guides were frequently required to lead
us out--temples crowned with a cupola or a cone, a bristling throng of
little extinguishers all covered with carving. The same subjects and
patterns are repeated to infinity, even in the darkest nooks: figures of
gods, of gigantic beasts rearing or galloping, of monstrous horses and
elephants, of tiny birds sheltering the slumbers of the gods under their
outspread wings.
On the stone ceiling of almost every temple four large women's faces and
certain crouching gnomes appear in fresh red paint. In the very dim
twilight that comes in through the narrow windows hung with blue gauze,
the idols are visible behind lattices: white Buddhas blazing with
sparkling gems that hang on their wrists and ankles, or form a perfect
breastplate; and every one, without exception, has an enormous
glittering imitation diamond in his forehead.
In the shrine of Chaumuc, the god of many faces, the four masks grin
down from the sides of a square pillar of white stucco. The walls,
vault, and pavement of this temple are all red, with borders of green
and yellow; the colours scream in contrast to the whiteness of the
images, with their staring eyes made of crystal balls that look like
spectacles.
Another sanctuary holds an idol made of seven metals mingled to a pale
golden hue. The statue is loaded with jewellery of silver and precious
stones. On its head is a fan-shaped diadem starred with rubies. The
walls and columns, of a dull purple, are decorated with gaudy mosaic of
scraps of looking-glass set in brass along the lines of the mouldings.
Pilgrims crowd the courts and the temples. All, when they speak, hold a
hand or a corner of their robe before their lips to avoid swallowing
the tiniest insect, which would avert the favour of the gods. They bring
offerings of rice or gram in little bags of faded silk, pale pink, or
green, and gold thread; the poorest have bags of red and white beads.
A very large temple, with its walls pierced in Persian patterns,
contains fifty-two chapels behind pointed arches. In each chapel are
four gods, all alike, of white plaster, all decked with the same jewels.
In an angle of the vaulting a female figure, carved in the stone and
wearing a tiara, holds an infant in her arms; this statue, with its long
face and the rigid folds of the drapery, might have been transferred
here from a gothic building.
A bulbul, flying out of a temple where it had been picking up the
offered rice, perched on a pomegranate tree and began to sing, at first
a little timid chirp, and then a ripple of song, soon drowned by the
shrieks of parrots, which came down on the tree and drove out the little
red-breasted chorister.
At the very top of the incline, the enclosing wall, black with age but
bright with yellow velvet moss, rises precipitously above the plain, and
three light balconies, with columns as slight as flower-stems, crowned
with pointed roofs recurved at the angles, overhang the abyss.
More and yet more temples, seen through the mist of weariness, the
nightmare of grimacing idols, the heavy vapour of the incense burnt in
every chapel, and of the flowers brought by the pilgrims. A dark red
pagoda, lighted by a mysterious blue gleam falling intermittently from
somewhere in the roof, enshrined a white marble god, whose glittering
gems seemed to rise and fall behind the cloud of perfume that floated
about him.
In another place two elephants of bright indigo, and some musicians all
green, with red parrots on their wrists, are painted on the walls of a
hall where the prayer-bell is incessantly tolled. Here many worshippers
were prostrate. An idol, flanked by two statues on guard in stiff
hieratic attitudes, was almost hidden under gold chains and a crown of
inordinate splendour, while a priest, wearing only a loin-cloth, stood
calmly sluicing the white plaster and putting the god through his
toilet, sometimes splashing the congregation.
There is a very small and simple niche against the wall of a larger
building, and in this, without even a railing to protect it, stands the
image of a goddess robed in silk embroidered in gold; and in such
another little recess, not far away, is the sister of this divinity,
also dressed in magnificent stuffs, renewed by the faithful at each high
festival.
In a consecrated hall we came to a plaster image of a camel modelled
over stone. To prove that you are without sin you must be able to pass
under the beast, or at least between the front legs and the girth of the
belly without touching any part; and so very narrow is this little
gateway of Jaïn virtue that, to preserve my character in the presence of
my escort, I did not attempt it.
Another temple--carved and pierced, and loaded and overloaded with
ornament. In the crypt was a bas-relief representing the ceremony of
marriage: the procession, the couple in front of the altar, the
relations sitting round, all alike in the same crouching attitude, like
toys set out by a little child. Then the model of a very famous temple
elsewhere in India: columns, gateways, statues of the gods, all
reproduced with microscopic exactitude down to the minutest details; and
surrounding this tiny model a bas-relief of the most bewildering
perspective--a plan of Satrunji with its fifty-two principal temples,
its trees and sacred tanks; and as a pendant to this representation, a
circular carving giving a bird's-eye view of the crowd, the same little
doll-like figures repeated again and again, coming to worship with arms
and legs spread out, grovelling, as if they were swimming.
A large open niche, supported on massive columns and enclosed by a
carved parapet, built by some king with a long, high-sounding name,
looks as if it were made of gold; the stone is yellow and flooded with
sunshine, which, where the hard material is not too thick, shines
through and makes it seem transparent, with the peculiar vibrant glow of
molten metal. The shadows, blue by contrast, are as soft as velvet;
twinkling sparks are lighted up in the angles of the architrave, by the
reflected rays, like stars in the stone itself.
On a square, shaded by an awning, with porticoes all round, coolies in
white dresses sat on the ground making up little bunches of flowers, the
blossoms without stems tied close to a pliant cane for
garlands--jasmine, roses, chrysanthemums, and sweet basil--for in India,
as in Byzantium of old, basil is the flower of kings and gods. The
basil's fresh scent overpowered the smell of sandal-wood and incense
which had gradually soaked into me in the presence of the idols, and
cleared the atmosphere delightfully. A woman rolled up in pale-tinted
muslins under the warm halo of light falling through the awning, was
helping one of the florists. She supported on her arm a long garland of
jasmine alternating with balls of roses. Almost motionless, she alone,
in the midst of the idols, at all reminded me of a goddess.
In the chief temple, whose walls were painted all over, a huge Buddha of
gold and silver was hidden under wreaths of flowers round his neck, and
a diadem of flowers on his brow, where blazed a luminous diamond; and
flowers were arranged in a canopy over his head, and were strewn like a
carpet on the steps of the shrine.
The fourteen hundred and fifty-two gods of the Jaïn paradise are
represented on a sculptured pyramid under a pagoda: little tadpoles of
white stone crowded together, two black dots showing for eyes in the
middle of the round featureless faces; on one side a more important god,
sitting alone, has a rather less elementary countenance.
A very solid structure, with walls like a fortress, contains the
treasury of the sacred mount. Five guards in turn came to open as many
padlocks, and at last the ponderous door turned slowly on its hinges. A
car, an elephant, and a vehicle to which are harnessed two prancing
horses, are all brought out to convey the idols when they go forth in a
procession. The animals are chased with almost artistic skill. The
harness, starry with precious stones, all takes to pieces.
Near one pagoda, where the highly venerated footprints of Adishwara are
preserved, a tree--a _gran_ tree--was cut down to the root, and, as the
legend tells, grew again in a single night as large as it now is; and it
would grow again if it were again felled, to screen with its shade the
holy spot touched by the god.
Beyond the outermost wall, when we had at last left it behind us, at the
foot of the pile of terra-cotta-coloured bricks, were vast tanks of
stagnant water, said to be inexhaustible. Near them was a shrine to
Siva, with two small idols hung with yellow flowers, where an old Hindoo
was praying devoutly; and then through a park of giant trees, and shrubs
bright with strange blossoms, over which the parrots flew screaming.
As soon as we returned to Palitana the Rajah sent to inquire after me,
and to present me with round boxes of fruit preserved in Cashmere, oval
green grapes, each wrapped separately in cotton and smelling of honey.
One of my sepoys was lying asleep in the verandah of the bungalow. A
variety of articles hung from his belt: an antelope's horn made into a
powder-flask, several tassels of red and green silk threaded in a row, a
triple chain of copper serving to hang up lamps in front of the sacred
images, a small damascened knife in a crimson velvet sheath, and a tiny
yellow earthenware bottle containing kohl.
In the courtyard a tall and gaudy cock was keeping the crows in order,
driving them relentlessly away from the kitchen precincts. On the roof
of the servants' quarters, always in the same spot, perched a kite,
ready to pounce as soon as anything was thrown out. The doves, the
house-pigeons, the fowls fled at once and squatted in corners; but the
cock stood his ground, his feathers all on end, his crest erect,
chuckling with rage and stalking round the yard within ten paces of the
bird of prey.