PLEASANT DAYS IN AGRA.
The Fort—The Mosque of Pearl—The Jāhangeeree
Mahul—Mher-ul-Nissa—Selīm Ghar—The Palace in the Fort—The
Dewanī Khas—Noor-jahān Burj—Zenāna Masjid—The Shīsha-Mahal—Hall
of Audience—The Vault of Secret Murder—The Black Marble
Slab—The Throne of Akbar—The Steam Baths—The Worship of the
Rising Sun—View from the Bridge of Boats on the Jumna.
1835, _Feb. 3rd._—I visited the Fort: one I particularly admire; it is
perfectly native. An engineer will perhaps say it wants the strength of
an European fortification. An admirer of the picturesque, it pleases
me better than one more regularly and scientifically built. There are
two gateways; the principal one is called the Delhi Gate, and to the
second, named after the Rajah Umrāo Sing, is attached a tradition. Akbar
demolished the old Fort of Agra, and replaced it in four years by one of
red freestone. It contains innumerable buildings of high interest, among
which, its brightest ornament, is the
MOOTEE MASJID, THE MOSQUE OF PEARL.
From the gate of entrance you do not expect to see much, the mosque being
completely hidden by a high screen of stone. Having passed the gate, you
find yourself in a court of marble one hundred and fifty feet square.
On the opposite side is the mosque itself; its seven arches of Gothic
mould are surmounted by three domes, of oval form, and nine cupolas; the
interior is formed of arches, three in depth. The mosque fills up one
side of the court; on the right and left are ranges of arcades and two
gateways. It is built entirely of white marble, finely carved; the arches
are deeply scalloped, and extremely beautiful. Next to the Tāj, I prefer
the Mootee Masjid to any building I have seen. It was built by Shāhjahān,
and completed in the year 1656. It is in good repair, but is seldom used
as a place of worship. It has no ornamental work in mosaic of precious
stones, but is elegant and lovely in its simplicity.
The Jahāngeeree Mahul, or Palace of Jahāngeer, which is in the Fort, was
built by Akbar; the whole is of red freestone, richly carved, but greatly
in decay. I viewed this palace with the greatest interest, thinking it
might be the one in which Jahāngeer confined the beautiful Mher-ul-Nissa,
the Sun of Women, for four years, ere she became his favourite sultana.
History relates, that Selim, the son of Akbar, in his youth, ere he
took the pompous title of Jahāngeer, the Conqueror of the World, beheld
and became enamoured of Mher-ul-Nissa, the betrothed of Sher Afgan, a
Turkomanian nobleman of high renown, whom she afterwards married. He was
a man who had served with great reputation in the wars of Akbar, and was
dignified by the title of Sher Afgan, or the Overthrower of the Lion.
The passion which Jahāngeer had repressed returned with redoubled
violence when he mounted the throne, and after several ineffectual
attempts to take the life of Sher Afgan, he at length succeeded. The
brave man, after a noble resistance, fell, six balls having entered his
body. The officer who, by the command of the Emperor, had committed this
murder, hastened to the house of Sher Afgan, and sent Mher-ul-Nissa, with
all imaginable care, to Delhi. The Emperor’s mother received her with
great tenderness, but Jahāngeer refused to see her; probably remorse
had taken possession of his soul. Be that as it may, he gave orders to
shut her up in one of the worst apartments of the palace. He would not
deign to behold her; and, contrary to his usual munificence to women, he
allowed her but fourteen ānās, less than two shillings a day, for the
subsistence of herself and some female slaves. This coldness, unless the
offspring of remorse, was unaccountable towards a woman whom he had
passionately loved when not in his power.
Mher-ul-Nissa was a woman of haughty spirit, and disappointment preyed
upon her mind; she trusted to the amazing power of her own beauty, which,
to conquer, required only to be seen; as the Emperor persisted in his
refusal to see the widow of Sher Afgan, she had recourse to the following
expedient: to raise her own reputation in the palace, and to support
herself and her slaves with more decency than the scanty pittance allowed
her would admit, she called forth her invention and taste, in working
some pieces of admirable tapestry and embroidery, in painting silks with
exquisite delicacy, and in inventing female ornaments of every kind;
these articles were carried by her slaves to the different apartments
of the zenāna, and to the harems of the great officers of state. They
were bought with the greatest avidity; nothing was fashionable amongst
the ladies of Agra and Delhi but the work of her hands. She accumulated
by this means a considerable sum of money, with which she repaired and
beautified her apartments, and clothed her slaves in the richest tissues
and brocades; whilst she herself affected a very plain and simple dress.
In this situation the widow of Sher Afgan continued for four years,
without having once seen the Emperor. Her fame reached his ears from
every apartment of the zenāna, and from all quarters: curiosity
vanquished his resolution; he resolved to surprise her, and suddenly and
unexpectedly entering her apartments, found every thing so elegant and
magnificent that he was struck with amazement. But the greatest ornament
of the whole was the beautiful Mher-ul-Nissa herself, in a plain dress
of white muslin, whilst her slaves were attired in rich brocades. She
received the Emperor with the usual salām, touching first the ground,
and then her forehead, with her right hand; she was silent, and stood
with downcast eyes. Jahāngeer remained equally silent for some time, in
admiration of her stature, shape, beauty, grace, and that inexpressible
voluptuousness of mien, he found impossible to resist.
On recovering from his confusion, he seated himself; and, placing her by
his side, inquired, “Why this difference between the Sun of Women and her
slaves?” She very shrewdly replied, “Those born to servitude must dress
as it shall please those whom they serve; these are my servants, and I
lighten the burthen of bondage by every indulgence in my power: but I,
who am your slave, O Emperor of the World, must dress according to your
pleasure, and not my own.” In spite of the sarcasm, Jahāngeer, greatly
pleased, took her in his arms; and the next day a magnificent festival
was ordered to be prepared, for the celebration of his nuptials with
the widow of Sher Afgan. Her name was changed by edict into Noor-Mahul,
the Light of the Harem. The Emperor’s former favourites vanished before
her, and during the rest of the reign of Jahāngeer she held the chief
power in the empire. Her father was raised to the office of vizier, and
her two brothers to the first rank of nobility; one of whom, Asaf-jāh,
was the father of the Lady of the Tāj. Although Mher-ul-Nissa was
anxious to become the Empress, she was innocent of any participation
in the murder of her husband, Sher Afgan. A second edict changed her
name to Noor-jahān, or Light of the World; to distinguish her from the
other wives of the Emperor, she was always addressed by the title of
Shahee or Empress. Her name was joined with that of the Emperor on the
current coin; she was the spring that moved the great machine of state.
Her family took rank immediately after the princes of the blood; they
were admitted at all hours into the presence, nor were they secluded
from the most secret apartments of the zenāna. During an insurrection,
it is mentioned, that the Shahee, mounted on an elephant, plunged into
the stream, with her daughter by her side; the latter was wounded in
the arm, but Noor-jahān pressed forward; three of her elephant-drivers
were successively killed, and the elephant received three wounds on the
trunk; in the mean time she emptied four quivers of arrows on the enemy.
The Rajpūts pressed into the stream to seize her, but the master of the
household, mounting the elephant, turned him away, and carried her out of
the river, notwithstanding her threats and commands. Such is the history
that is recorded of the Light of the World, which imparted a strong
interest to my visit to the Jahāngīree Palace. Noor-jahān had one child,
a daughter, by Sher Afgan, but no offspring by Jahāngeer.
THE SELĪM GHAR.
The Selīm Ghar was formerly a large building, but the outer part has been
pulled down by the Honourable Company. One centre room of red granite
still remains, in the style of the Jahāngīree Palace; it was built by
Akbar, and, no doubt, was called Selīm Ghar after his son, ere he took
the title of Jahāngeer.
THE PALACE IN THE FORT
contains magnificent buildings, which are all of white marble, and were
erected by Shāh-jāhan. The dewanī-khas, or hall of private audience, is
a noble structure; the arches are beautiful; so is the building, which
is of the same material, inlaid with coloured stones. In the interior,
the roof and sides are beautifully and delicately ornamented with the
representations of various flowers, beautifully combined, and formed
of precious stones; the whole of the ornaments are also richly gilt.
The apartments of the zenāna, which adjoin this building, are of white
marble, exquisitely carved, and inlaid with precious stones, in the style
of the mosaic work at the Tāj. These apartments were converted into a
prison for Shāhjahān, during the latter part of his reign. The central
room is a fountain, which plays in, and also falls into a basin of white
marble, inlaid with the most beautiful designs, so that the water appears
to fall upon brilliant flowers.
The Noor-jahān burj, or turret of Noor-jahān, is of the same exquisitely
carved marble, inlaid in a similar manner. In an apartment on the
opposite side of the court the same style is preserved; the water here
falls over an inlaid marble slab, which is placed slanting in the side of
the wall, and, being caught, springs up in a fountain.
Some wretches of European officers—to their disgrace be it said—made
this beautiful room a cook-room! and the ceiling, the fine marbles, and
the inlaid work, are all one mass of blackness and defilement! Perhaps
they cooked the sū’ar, the hog, the unclean beast, within the sleeping
apartments of Noor-jahān,—the proud, the beautiful Sultana!
In this turret I took refuge for some time, from the heat of the noon-day
sun. What visions of former times passed through my brain! How I pictured
to myself the beautiful Empress, until her portrait was clear and well
defined in my imagination: still, it bore an European impress. I had
never entered the private apartments of any native lady of rank, and I
longed to behold one of those women of whose beauty I had heard so much;
I had seen two paintings of native women, who were very beautiful; but
the very fact that these women had been beheld by European gentlemen,
degraded them to a class respecting which I had no curiosity. I was now
in the deserted zenāna of the most beautiful woman recorded in history;
and one whose talents and whose power over the Emperor, made her, in
fact, the actual sovereign; she governed the empire from behind the
parda. The descendants of Jahāngeer, in their fallen greatness, were
still at Delhi; and I determined, if possible, to visit the ladies of the
royal zenāna now in existence.
The zenāna masjid, a gem of beauty, is a small mosque, sacred to the
ladies of the zenāna, of pure white marble, beautifully carved, with
three domes of the same white marble.
The shīsha-mahal, or house of glass, is both curious and elegant,
although the material is principally pounded tālc and looking-glass. It
consists of two rooms, of which the walls in the interior are divided
into a thousand different panels, each of which is filled up with raised
flowers in silver, gold, and colours, on a ground-work of tiny convex
mirrors! The idea it impresses on the mind is that of being inside some
curiously worked and arched box, so unlike is the apartment to a room!
The roof reminds you of the style of ceiling that prevailed during the
time of Louis the XIV., and resembles the ceilings at Versailles. Pounded
mica has the effect of silver. Fronting the entrance, in the second
room, are three rows of niches for lights, and below, standing forward
a little, there are more rows of marble niches for the same. From the
top, the water pours out, and falls in a broad sheet _over_ the upper
lights, and is received below in a basin, from which it again pours forth
in another fall over the lower row of lights, so that you see the lights
burning _behind_ the falling waters. The waters are then received in a
fountain, which springs high and sparkles in the glare, and then, running
over a marble causeway, fills another beautifully carved white marble
basin, from the centre of which springs another fountain, which is in the
first apartment.
The lall petarah, or audience hall, is an immense hall, now used as an
armoury.
I have just returned from an expedition that has taken a marvellous hold
of my fancy. Yesterday Mr. C⸺ said that, if I would promise to pay the
Shīsha-Mahal a visit, he would have it lighted up: the apartments are
usually only lighted up to satisfy the curiosity of the Governor-general.
I went with pleasure; the place was illuminated with hundreds of little
lamps: there was not time to have the water raised from the river, or
we should have seen the effect of the sheets of water pouring over
and beyond the rows of lights in the marble niches. After viewing the
Shīsha-Mahal, the effect of which was not as good as I had imagined it
would be, Mr. C⸺ asked me if I should like to see the apartments under
ground, in which the padshah and his family used to reside during the hot
winds. We descended to view these tykkanahs and the steam-baths belonging
to them. Thence we went by the aid of lighted torches to view a place
that made me shudder. An officer examining these subterranean passages
some time ago, observed, that he was within the _half_ of a vault of an
octagon shape, the other half was blocked up by a strong, but hastily
formed wall. Tradition amongst the natives asserted, that within the
underground passages in the Fort, was a vault in which people had been
hanged and buried, but no one could say where this vault was to be found.
The officer above-mentioned, with great toil and difficulty, cut through
a wall _eight feet in thickness_, and found himself in an inner vault of
large dimensions, built of stone, with a high and arched roof. Across
this roof was a thick and carved beam of wood, with a hole in its centre,
and a hook, such as is used for hanging people. Below and directly under
this hole in the beam, and in the centre of the vault, was a grave;
this grave he opened, and found the bangles (ornaments for the arms) of
a woman. Such is the place I have just visited. My blood ran cold as I
descended the steps, the torches burning dimly from the foulness of the
air, and I thought of the poor creatures who might have entered these
dismal passages, never to revisit the light of day. I crept from the
passage through the hole which had been opened in the thick wall, and
stood on the ransacked grave, or perhaps graves of secret murder. Close
to this vault is another of similar appearance; the thickness of the
wall has baffled the patience of some person who has attempted to cut
through it; however, the officers who were with me this evening say they
will open it, as well as a place which they suppose leads to passages
under the city. An old sergeant who has been here thirty years, says he
once went through those passages, but the entrance has subsequently been
bricked up, and he cannot discover it: the place which it is supposed
is the blocked-up entrance, through which he passed, will, they say, be
opened to-morrow. Having seen this spot of secret murder and burial, I
can believe any of the horrible histories recorded in the annals of the
padshahs: only imagine the entrance having been blocked up by a wall
_eight_ feet in thickness!
Quitting the Fort, we drove to the Tāj: the moon was at the full, adding
beauty to the beautiful; the Tāj looked like fairy frost-work, yet
so stately and majestic. And this superb building—this wonder of the
world—is the grave of a woman, whilst only a short distance from it, is
the vault of secret murder,—the grave also of a woman! What a contrast!
How different the destiny of those two beings! The grave of the unknown
and murdered one only just discovered amidst the dismal subterraneous
passages in the Fort: the grave of the other bright and pure and
beautiful in the calm moonlight. The damp, unwholesome air of the vaults
is still in my throat; we were some time exploring and hunting for the
passage, which, they say, leads to the temple of an Hindoo, who lives in
the Tripolia; he will suffer no one to enter his temple, and declares the
devil is there _in propriâ personâ_.
When I retired to rest on my charpāī, I found it difficult to drive away
the fancies that surrounded me.
The walls of the Fort, and those buildings within it that are of carved
red freestone, were built by Akbar: the marble buildings were erected by
Shāhjahān.
The seat of the padshah is an immense slab of black marble, the largest
perhaps ever beheld; it was broken in two by an earthquake. A Burā
Bahādur, from this throne of the padshah, exclaimed, “I have come, not
to succeed Lord Auckland, but Akbar!” The convulsion of the earth, that
split in two the throne of black marble, could not have astonished it
more than this modest speech—Allāhu Akbar!
In front, and on the other side of the court, is the seat of the vizier;
a slab of white marble. The seat on which the padshah used to sit to view
the fights of the wild beasts in the court below, is one of great beauty;
the pillars and arches, of the most elegant workmanship, are beautifully
carved; the whole plain and light.
The steam-baths are octagonal rooms below, with arched roofs; three of
these rooms are of white marble, with inlaid marble pavements; and there
is a fountain, from which hot water springs up from a marble basin. The
baths in the apartments below the palace, which most probably belonged to
the zenāna, were broken up by the Marquis of Hastings: he committed this
sacrilege on the past, to worship the rising sun; for he sent the most
beautiful of the marble baths, with all its fretwork and inlaid flowers,
to the Prince Regent, afterwards George the Fourth.
Having thus destroyed the beauty of the baths of the palace, the
remaining marble was afterwards sold on account of Government; most
happily, the auction brought so small a sum, it put a stop to further
depredations.
At sunrise, from the Bridge of Boats, nothing can be more beautiful
than the view up and down the river: there are an hundred domed bastions
jutting out from the banks amid the gardens and residences of the nobles
of former days: the Fort, with its marble buildings, peeping over the
ramparts; the custom house, and many other prominent objects; form a
magnificent _tout ensemble_.