The next encampment-ground at which we halted was close to a dâk
bungalow; and, during the day, there were several arrivals and
departures, the travellers merely halting for an hour or so, while
some refreshment was got ready. The Lieutenant, who appeared to know
everybody in Hindostan (I never met a person who did not know him),
contrived, to use his own phrase, to "screw a small chat out of each
of them." On one occasion he returned to the tent richer than he left
it. He carried in one hand a small basket containing preserved oysters,
crystallized apricots, and captains' biscuits, and in the other a stone
bottle of Maraschino. Under his arm was a quantity of gauze, which he
wanted for a veil, he said. These contributions he had levied from a
lady who was going to Muttra, where her husband was an official of some
magnitude. She had just returned from England, the Lieutenant informed
me, and was looking as blooming as possible. To my question, "Do you
know her?" he responded, "Oh yes; she is one of my sixty!"
"Sixty what?"
"First cousins."
"All in India?"
"Every one of them. My good sir, I have at this moment, in the Bengal
Presidency alone, upwards of two hundred and twenty relations and
connexions, male and female, and every one of them--that is to say, the
men and the boys--in the service of the government."
"Is it possible?"
"Yes. What is more, four-fifths of the number are in the civil service.
I should have been in the civil service too, only I was sent away from
Haileybury for rebellion and card-playing. It is not an easy matter for
me to go to any station in these provinces without finding a cousin in
it."
"Do you know the assistant-magistrate of Agra?"
"Yes."
"Is he a cousin of yours?"
"_He_ isn't. But his wife's father and my father were own brothers; so
it amounts to pretty much the same thing."
"And do you know the judge of Jampore?" This was a gentleman to whom I
had letters of introduction.
"Yes. His mother was my aunt."
"It must be dangerous," I suggested, "to express an opinion of any one
in India in the presence of a man who has so very many relations."
"Oh, dear no!" said the Lieutenant. "A man with such a frightful lot of
connexions has no right to be, and is not generally, very sensitive.
Bless me! if I had nothing to do but to stand up for my relations, I
should run the risk of being perpetually knocked down. Life is much
too short for that sort of thing. Therefore, when I hear any one abuse
or reflect upon any relation or connexion of mine, I am invariably
silent; or, if appealed to, express my indifference by a shrug of the
shoulders."
Here we were interrupted by the old Soubahdar, who came to the door of
the tent. He had dined, washed, smoked, slept, and had now got up to
grumble. His huge teak-box, which measured four feet by two, and two
feet deep, and without which he never travelled, had received a slight
injury, and of this he had come to complain. He said, that in the time
of Lord Clive or Lord Lake, if such a thing had happened, the men in
charge of the hackeries (carts) would have been hanged on the spot;
and Phool Singh Brahmin, whose exertions, he alleged, prevented the
utter destruction of the box, would have been promoted to the rank of
havildar.
"Clive and Lake!" whispered the Lieutenant to me. "He talks like a
leading article in a London newspaper." Then, turning to the old man,
he inquired, "Would Lord Clive or Lord Lake have sanctioned your
carrying about that beastly trunk on a march at all?"
"Yes, Sahib."
"It is not true. Lord Clive and Lord Lake gained their victories by
the help of self-denying men, who cheerfully endured any personal
inconvenience; not by a parcel of old grumblers like yourself, who have
no right to refer to the career of those illustrious men."
"Sahib, I was with Lord Lake's army."
"Then, that's the very reason that you ought not to be here."
"But our present Colonel, Sahib, was with Lord Lake."
"And I wish he was with Lord Lake now!"
"I shall report this, Sahib."
"Very well. Do!"
Whereupon the old officer left the tent, and the Lieutenant assured me
that the Colonel, who was as imbecile as the Soubahdar, would cause the
matter to be investigated, and that he, the Lieutenant, would, to a
certainty, receive a severe reprimand.
"For what?" I asked.
"For not having made arrangements for the safe conveyance of the
baggage, and for having treated with a want of courtesy a native
commissioned officer of the regiment. I need scarcely say, that this
reprimand will not in any way interfere with my night's rest."
"But, the complainant will forget it," said I, "before he gets back to
the regiment."
"Forget it!" exclaimed the Lieutenant. "Forget it! A native--especially
a native commissioned officer--forget a grievance! Catch that old man
forgetting the slightest unpleasantness that has occurred to him
during this march. He will, it is true, forget his present grievance
to-morrow, when he has a fresh one; but at the end of the journey they
will be forthcoming in a lump."
This prophecy was destined not to be fulfilled; for, presently, a
Sepoy came to the Lieutenant, and reported that the Soubahdar was very
ill. We hastened to the old man's tent, and found him, strange to say,
in the last extremity. He was going very fast; but, nevertheless, he
continued to gurgle forth a grievance. He demanded, with his last
breath--why the East India Company did not give him his pay, as in Lord
Lake's time, in _sicca_ rupees?
"You shall, in future, receive it in _sicca_ rupees," said the
Lieutenant, bending over the old man, whose hand he grasped tightly.
"And will my losses be made good?" he asked, with awful energy.
"Yes," said the Lieutenant.
"It is well!" and the old man slipped almost imperceptibly from one
world to another.
That the old Soubahdar, who was upwards of eighty, had died of natural
causes, there could be no question; but, clamorous as was the entire
company for the interment of the body, the Lieutenant determined on
taking it to Agra, for the purpose of a surgical examination. Meanwhile
the old man's effects were scrupulously collected and put under seal.
We were now only twenty-six miles from Agra, the capital of the North
West Provinces, and it was agreed to perform the distance in one march.
We therefore started at sundown, and travelled all night. The moon was
shining brightly, the road was in excellent order, and, notwithstanding
that the old Soubahdar was lying lifeless on the top of some of the
treasure-boxes, the Sepoys were in high spirits, and on several
occasions even jocular in respect to the deceased's weakness--that of
perpetually grumbling.
Shortly after the day had dawned, I beheld on the distant horizon
something like a large white cloud. Had we been at sea, I should
have said it was a sail or an iceberg, to which it bore a striking
resemblance. I pointed it out to the Lieutenant, who smiled.
"Don't you know what that is?" he said.
"No," I answered.
"Can't you guess?"
"No. What is it?"
"That is the famous Taj Mahal. That is the building that defies the
most graphic pen in the world to do justice to its grandeur and its
transcendent beauty. Bulwer, in the _Lady of Lyons_, has a passage
which sometimes reminds me of the Taj:--
A palace lifting to eternal summer
Its marble halls from out a glassy bower
Of coolest foliage, musical with birds.
But how far short must any description of such a place fall! How far
distant do you suppose we are from that building?"
"About two miles."
"Upwards of nine miles, as the crow flies! Yes; that is the Taj, the
tomb of a woman, the wife of the Emperor Shah Jehan. The pure white
marble of which it is built was brought from Ajmere. For upwards of
twenty-five years, twenty-five thousand men were employed, day by day,
on that edifice. I am afraid to say how many millions it cost. The
Mahrattas carried away the huge silver gates and made them into rupees.
What became of the inner gate, which was formed of a single piece
of agate, no one can say. The general opinion is, that it is buried
somewhere in Bhurtpore. The original idea was, to build a corresponding
tomb on this side of the river for the Emperor himself, and connect the
two by a bridge of white marble. A very pretty idea, was it not? Lord
William Bentinck was for pulling the Taj down and selling the marble,
or using it for building purposes."
"Impossible!"
"Not at all. He thought it was very impolitic to allow these gorgeous
edifices to stand--these monuments of folly, extravagance, and
superstition, which served none but the worst of prejudices, leading
the natives to draw prejudicial comparisons between the simple and
economical structures of the British and these stupendous and costly
erections of the Moghul Emperors. And most assuredly our bungalows,
churches, and other buildings do present a most beggarly appearance
alongside these masses of polished marble and red stone. It looks
as though we had no confidence in our hold of the country, and
therefore would not go to any expense worth speaking of. Look at our
court-houses, in the civil lines, as that part of Agra is called--a
parcel of paltry brick and mortar pigeon-holes, not to be compared with
the tenements that the menial servants of the Emperors inhabited. Look
at the Government House, the Metcalfe Testimonial, and other paltry
European edifices.
"Surely," said I, "you would preserve rather than deface or destroy
these magnificent works of art--these wonders of the world?"
"Works of art and wonders of the world they doubtless are; but,
under existing circumstances, they are eye-sores, and I would
pull down every one of them, and convert the material into useful
buildings--barracks--splendid barracks for our British and native
troops; hospitals, worthy of being called hospitals; court-houses,
churches, magazines, and so forth."
"But what barbarians the natives would think us!"
"What does that signify? Are we the conquerors of the country, or are
we not? As to what they would think of us, they can't think much worse
of us than they do already. Do we not eat swine's flesh? and do not
English ladies dance (the natives call it 'jumping about'), and with
men who are not their husbands? Barbarians! Why, the very dress that we
wear renders us barbarians in their sight."
The sun had now risen high in the heavens, and his rays fell upon the
Taj, which we were gradually approaching. I was wrapped in admiration,
and wishing in my inmost heart that my talkative companion would
cease, and leave me to gaze in silence on that glorious scene, when
suddenly the procession halted, and the Lieutenant shouted out the word
"Hulloa!" in a voice so loud that I was completely startled.
"What is the matter?" I asked.
"Matter!" the Lieutenant echoed me. "Matter! Look a-head! There is a
wheel off one of those rickety carts, and those confounded boxes are
scattered all over the road." Here the little officer bounded like an
Indian-rubber ball from his seat, and in a towering passion with all
the world in general, but no one in particular, rushed to the spot
where the disaster had occurred, and there began to fret, fume, and
snort most violently.
"Hush, Sahib!" said one of the Sepoys, saluting his officer very
respectfully, "or you may wake the Soubahdar, and _then_ what will
happen?"
This appeal had the effect of restoring the Lieutenant to calmness
and good-humour. He smiled, and seemed to feel that matters would
certainly have been worse, and the delay more protracted, had the old
man been alive and witnessed the accident.
One of the boxes was smashed to pieces, and the rupees were lying about
in all directions, the Sepoys picking them up, and searching for others
in the dust and sand. I never witnessed a more ridiculous or grotesque
scene than this--the native soldiers in their red coats and chacos,
but with bare legs and without shoes, kneeling, and sifting the earth
through their fingers, the Lieutenant in his pyjamahs and solar hat, a
cheroot in his mouth, and in his hand the buggy-whip, which he used as
a baton while giving his orders.
"Does this often happen?" I was tempted to ask.
"Constantly," was the Lieutenant's reply. "The Government has
a bullock-train for the conveyance of stores; and even private
individuals, by paying for the carriage, may have their goods taken
from station to station; but, in respect to treasure, we cling to the
old system. The military authorities apply to the magistrates, whose
subordinates provide these hackeries, which were in vogue some five
thousand years ago. And just observe those rotten boxes."
"Why are they not lined with cast iron or zinc?"
"It would be too expensive. The Government cannot afford it."
"But why should not the Government use its own bullock-train for the
conveyance of treasure, instead of hiring these antiquated and rotten
conveyances?"
"Because the bullock-train is under the post-office authorities; and
the military authorities have nothing to do with the post-office
authorities."
"Is that a reason?"
"No--nor is it rhyme; but it is a part of our Indian system, and, what
is more, it is Government logic. However, I am not going to stop here
all day. We will push on, and get into Agra before breakfast. The
treasure will come all right enough, and I will be there to meet it at
the office of the magistrate and collector."
We now took our seats in the old buggy. The hood was raised, the syce
sat behind, and off we went at a canter, which very soon became a
gallop. In the parlance of the Lieutenant, the old horse was indeed
"a ripper." When warm there was no holding him, and he went over
his seven and a half miles of ground in thirty-seven minutes. At
the bridge of boats which crosses the Jumna, we met, by chance, the
assistant magistrate (the friend with whom I was going to stay, and
the husband of the Lieutenant's first cousin). He was dressed in a
pair of large jack-boots, corduroy breeches, a shooting-coat, and a
solar helmet, and was riding an immensely powerful Cape horse. He did
not recognise either of us at first, but pulled up, and turned round
the moment the Lieutenant shouted out his name, with the addition of
"Old boy!"--household words in the mouth of the Lieutenant, for he
not only applied them to things animate, but inanimate; for instance,
his corkscrew, his teapot, his buggy, his watch, his hat, everything
with him was an old boy, in common with the Lieutenant-Governor, or the
general commanding the division.
After I had been greeted by my friend, who had been at a loss to
account for my delay in reaching Agra--the Lieutenant thus addressed
him:
"I say, old boy. Look here. I have a lot of treasure for you about
seven or eight miles from this; but there has been a break down. Send
out a lot of fellows to give assistance, will you?"
"Yes."
"And look here, old boy. There's a dead Soubahdar."
"A what?"
"A dead Soubahdar. He died suddenly, and I don't wish him to be buried
without an examination, because I bullied him mildly only a short time
previous to his going out. You will manage that for me, old boy, won't
you?"
"Oh, yes."
"He died of old age, and his last grievance; but still I should like a
medical man's certificate; just to satisfy the colonel who served with
him in Lord Lake's time, you know, and all that sort of thing."
"I can manage all that for you," replied the official, riding by the
side of the buggy; "but push on, for the sun is becoming rather
oppressive, and I have no hood to my saddle, remember."
My host and hostess made me as comfortable and as happy as any
traveller could wish to be made. Of the former I saw little or nothing
from eleven in the morning till three or four in the evening, for he
was what is called a conscientious officer, and attended strictly
to his work. During these hours I used to read, or pay a visit to
the mess-rooms of a regiment where a billiard-table was kept. To
the officers of the regiment I was introduced by Lieutenant Sixtie,
previous to his return to his own corps. He stayed eight days in
Agra--upon some plea or other--and sent his company on, in advance of
him.
Agra--that is to say, the society of Agra--was at the time split into
two sections, the civil and the military. They were not exactly at
open war, but there was a coolness existing between the two branches.
They did not invite each other, and very seldom exchanged calls. For
me, who was desirous of seeing all parties, this was rather awkward,
living as I was in the house of a civilian. So I resolved upon taking
a small bungalow for a short period, and furnishing it in a mild and
inexpensive manner. I was candid enough to confess to my host that,
as I was in no way connected with either branch of the service, I was
anxious to avoid taking any part in their local differences; and he had
the good sense not to press me to remain under his roof.
A few days after I had located myself in my bungalow, I received
a call from a native gentleman, a Seik chieftain, who was, and
now is, a state prisoner on a handsome stipend. He drove up to my
door in a small phaeton, drawn by a pair of large black mules of
incredible swiftness and agility. This fallen chieftain--a tall and
powerfully-built man--was no other than the renowned Rajah Lall
Singh, who commanded the Seik cavalry at the battle of Ferozeshah,
and who was subsequently Prime Minister at Lahore, during a portion
of the time that the British Government undertook the administration
of the Punjab on behalf of Maharajah Dulleep Singh. Lall Singh was
now studying surgery. More than one medical officer in charge of the
hospitals which he attended, informed me that the Rajah was already
a comparatively skilful operator, and could take off an arm or a leg
with surprising dexterity. Notwithstanding his previous character--that
of a sensualist and faithless intriguer; one, indeed, who had not
been constant even to his own villanies--I could not help liking his
conversation, which was humorously enlivened with imitations of English
officers with whom he had come in contact, and was entertaining to the
last degree. His anecdotes, relating to the late Runjeet Singh, were
peculiarly interesting; coming as they did from the lips of a man who
had been so much in the company of that remarkable monarch, who in many
respects resembled Napoleon the First, especially in the selection of
the instruments of his power. "All his" (Runjeet's) "chief men," said
the Rajah, "were persons of obscure origin: Tej Singh, Sawan Mull,
Deenanauth, and the rest of them."
"But you were an exception," said I.
"Indeed not," was his reply. "I began life as a muleteer, and hence my
partiality for mules, perhaps."
After a while the Rajah invited me to take a drive with him, to a house
about two miles in the country, and situated on the banks of the Jumna.
It was not his own house, which was then under repair, he said, but
had been placed at his disposal by a friend. I thanked the Rajah, and
stepped into his carriage; he followed me, seized the reins, shook the
whip, and away we went at the rate of sixteen miles an hour.
The garden-house, at which we soon arrived, was a spacious building of
European architecture. It had formerly belonged to a general officer
who had married a native woman of considerable wealth. The furniture
was all of European make, and was arranged very much in the same
manner as that in the Sahib Logue's apartments at Bhitoor. In point
of quality it was also very much the same--a portion costly, and the
rest of a common description. This house, too, was constantly inhabited
by English folks who sought a change of air for a few days. Since his
removal to Agra, Lall Singh lived more like an European than a native,
and had got into the habit of sitting at ease in a chair, instead of
cross-legged like a tailor on the carpet. His dress was of the simplest
and most unpretending character imaginable; and, with the exception of
a signet-ring on his forefinger, he had no ornament on his person. The
table of the apartment to which he conducted me was literally covered
with surgical instruments--saws, knives, scalpels of every size and
shape. Amongst them I perceived a pair of swords in wooden scabbards
covered with rich green velvet, and ornamented with gold and precious
stones. Observing that my eyes rested on these swords, he took one up,
and remarked, "These have performed some curious operations in their
time; but never in a hospital. They have been used chiefly for taking
off heads. This once belonged to Dhyan Singh, and that to Heera Singh,
who were both assassinated. They are of Damascus steel, and are sharper
than any of these knives or scalpels. I have sent a number of swords
to England to have them made into surgical instruments." Here our
conversation was interrupted by a domestic, who announced--
"THE LALLAH SAHIB;"
and presently a native gentleman walked, or rather limped (for he
was lame of the right leg) into the room, and made a very graceful
salaam, first to the Rajah and then to myself. He was rather short in
stature, but very stoutly built, and about forty years of age. His eyes
were full of intelligence and vigour, and his features regular and
well-shapen. His manners were easy, affable, unassuming, and modest,
and his attire as plain and quiet as possible.
"This gentleman, Sahib," said the Rajah, addressing me, "is a great
friend of mine. This house belongs to him. A strange world is this!
Only a few years ago, I offered a reward of a lac of rupees (ten
thousand pounds) for his head, or two lacs to any one who would bring
him alive to my tent."
"Indeed!"
"Yes; and if I had caught him, how changed would have been the whole
face of affairs in this country!"
"How so?"
"This gentleman was the contractor for the British army; and, if I had
got hold of him, the army could not have been supplied."
"But why was he worth more alive than dead?" I asked, with a laugh, in
which the native gentleman heartily joined.
"Because," returned the Rajah, coolly, "if we had secured him alive
we would have made him feed us with the supplies bought with his own
money; which should also have paid the reward for his capture. This,
by the way, was claimed by several who brought in heads, alleging that
each was the head of the Lallah the contractor; but the attempted
imposition was discovered, and the perpetrators were themselves
decapitated."
Unlike Hindoos and Mussulmans, who drink in secret, Lall Singh drank
neat brandy openly; and, rising from his chair, he administered unto
himself a couple of glasses--or rather a tumbler half-filled--on
this occasion. He could take more than two bottles of brandy without
being in the least intoxicated. This was owing, of course, to the
circumstance that he consumed considerable quantities of bhang; just
in the same way that an opium-eater is rarely or never affected by
drinking deeply of wine.
The Rajah's visitor, the Lallah Jooteepersâd, had a grievance, and a
rather substantial one. He had claimed from the Government fifty-seven
lacs of rupees (half a million and seventy-thousand pounds sterling) as
the balance due to him for feeding the armies employed during the two
Seik campaigns; and the Government had threatened to prosecute him, in
one of their own courts, for an attempt to make an overcharge of forty
thousand rupees, or four thousand pounds.
"And if they understand the principles of good government thoroughly,"
said the Rajah, "they will convict you, imprison you for life, and
confiscate all your possessions, real and personal. That is the way
the Lahore Durbar would have settled so large a claim. But the Indian
Government has not the courage to act in that way."
"But I have not attempted to make an overcharge; and if my agents have
done so, let it be deducted, if it be incorrect," said the Lallah.
"You are a criminal," said the Rajah.
"How so?" asked the Lallah.
"You say the Government owes you fifty-seven lacs?"
"Yes--and honestly."
"Well, is not that enough to warrant your being transported for life,
or hanged? But, as I have told you, the Government has not courage to
prosecute you."
In this opinion, however, Lall Singh was in error; for, that very
night, the Lallah was informed that he was, to all intents and
purposes, a prisoner, and must not leave Agra. The firm belief
of every native, not only in the district but throughout India,
was, that these proceedings had been taken to evade payment of the
contractor's just demands. But the Lallah himself was the first to
deny this assertion, and to declare that the prosecution arose out of
the circumstance of the Commissary-General being a near relative of
the Governor-General of India; that a civilian in power had a quarrel
with the Commissary-General, and had represented, semi-officially,
that great frauds had been committed, and there could be no question
that the heads of the departments were cognisant of such frauds; that
the Governor-General, anxious that the honour of a member of his
ancient family should be cleared up, had determined upon a strict
investigation; and that the civilian in question suggested the public
prosecution of the contractor as the speediest and most satisfactory
means of arriving at the result! And such was the opinion of many
officers of the Government, civil and military!
The contractor, however, was eventually acquitted, and the Government
paid the bill. But, to this day, the natives of India believe that
the object of the Government was to cheat their creditor; while the
officers, civil and military, are equally sanguine that it was "the
honour of the family" that led to the most extraordinary and protracted
trial that ever was known in India, and which was emphatically
denounced, by the press and public; of every country in Europe, as
absurd, unjust, and shameful. Nevertheless, Jooteepersâd cannot have
harboured any revenge for the wrongs (involving disgrace and dishonour)
which were heaped upon him; for it is he who has fed, for several
months, the five thousand Christians during their incarceration in the
fortress of Agra; and, amongst the number of civilians there shut up,
is the gentleman who conducted the prosecution on the behalf of the
Government, and who, in the execution of his duty, strove very hard
indeed for a verdict of guilty! Without Jooteepersâd we could not have
held Agra!
When the sun had gone down, and it was cool enough to walk abroad,
Lall Singh led me into the extensive gardens which surrounded his
temporary abode. The Lallah had left us, and I was now alone with the
ex-Commander of the Seik Cavalry and the ex-Prime Minister of Lahore. I
felt much more pleasure in his society than I should have felt had he
been in the plenitude of his power; for he bore his altered condition
with great dignity and cheerfulness, and discoursed upon all sorts of
topics without any restraint or reserve. He even talked about the Ranee
of Lahore--with whom his name had been so frequently coupled--and with
a chivalrous spirit (whether his assertions were true or not is another
matter) assured me that his intrigues with her had been confined
exclusively to politics. I asked him where this helpless woman had fled
to, after her miraculous escape from Benares, in the garb of a man? He
replied that he knew not. He was sure she was not in Nepal--where the
authorities supposed her to be--but somewhere in our own provinces.
"Was she a beautiful woman?" I asked.
"No; and never had been," was his reply. "But she had eyes which could
charm like those of a snake, and a voice sweeter than that of a bird."
"They say she was the Messalina of the East," and I explained to him
what the allusion signified.
"It is not true," he exclaimed vehemently. "She was a vain and clever
woman; but the very opposite of the character that she has been
described. She was proud of the influence she possessed over men in
making them subservient to her will and her caprices."
"Had she great power over Runjeet Singh?"
"None. She was his doll, his plaything, and the only being who could
calm him when he had the horrors. Nothing more."
"How the horrors?"
"Runjeet Singh began life as a petty chieftain, with a few hundred
followers. He acquired a vast kingdom, and had the most powerful army
that the East ever saw, or will see. Whilst he went on conquering,
shedding blood, and plundering, he was easy in his mind; but, when
he found that he had got as much as he could manage, he stopped; and
then came his disquiet. His great fear then was that he could not
retain what he had become possessed of--and his chief horror was that
the Koh-i-noor would be carried off--that diamond which Runjeet Singh
stole, and which the Ranee has worn a thousand times as a bracelet.
That diamond which is now in the crown of England."
"Where did it come from originally?"
"No one can say that. The history of the Koh-i-noor has yet to be
written. Did you ever see a likeness of Runjeet Singh?"
"Never."
"Then I will show you a very faithful one; a miniature taken by a
famous painter who came from Delhi, and spent his life in Lahore. The
Maharajah was a diminutive, shrivelled man, frightfully pitted with
the small-pox, which had destroyed one of his eyes; but with the other
he could gaze for an hour without ever winking. He had a shrill and
squeaking voice; but it terrified those who heard it, especially when
he was angry. He did not talk much; but he was a great listener. Then,
shrivelled and emaciated as he was in his later years, he was possessed
of immense physical strength when roused; and upon horseback, where
skill could be exercised, few men in his kingdom could have disarmed
him."
"Indeed!"
"He inspired all those who approached him--whether European or
native--with respect mingled with intense fear."
Our conversation was here interrupted by a gardener, who presented the
Rajah and myself respectively with a nosegay; and who volunteered the
information, that some workmen, in digging the foundation for a vine
trellis had come upon an old house under the earth, and in it had been
found several gold and silver coins.
"Where?" asked the Rajah.
"There," said the gardener, pointing in the direction.
We hurried to the spot, and found that the workmen had gone; but sure
enough, there were the walls of an apartment, formed of red stone and
white marble.
"This quarter of Agra," said the Rajah to me, "was formerly inhabited
by persons of the highest rank. Where we are now standing was, no
doubt, once the site of a palace; and these walls are those of
the ty-khana--a vault beneath the dwelling from which the light is
excluded. In these dark places are usually perpetrated what you English
call 'dark deeds.'"
I expressed a desire to explore this newly discovered apartment of
former days; but the Rajah told me it was then too late, as the workmen
had gone; but he promised me that if I would come to him at daylight on
the following morning, he would have great pleasure in gratifying my
curiosity.
On the following morning, having spent a very dreamy night, I was
carried in my palanquin to the Jatnee Bagh. Such was the name of
Jooteepersâd's garden-house, in which Lall Singh then resided. The
Rajah was dressing. I was confronted by a Seik with an enormous
beard, whose hair was a yard long and tied up in a peculiar knot
on the top of his head, and who politely inquired if I would take
coffee. Ere long the Rajah made his appearance, and we went together
to the newly discovered ty-khana, which was now guarded, since gold
and silver had been found there. The workmen, some twenty in number,
came and commenced their labour: that of clearing away the earth in
all directions, in order to get to the bottom of the apartment in
the ty-khana. This was accomplished in about two hours, and we then
stood upon a stone-floor in the centre of a room, about sixteen feet
square. In several of the niches were little lamps, such as are burnt
upon the tombs of Moslems, and a hookah and a pair of marble chairs
were found in the subterraneous apartment; of which the sky was now
the roof. Whilst examining the walls, I observed that, upon one side,
there was a ledge about six feet high from the floor (and carried up
therefrom), and about a foot in width. This ledge, which was of brick
and plaster, resembled a huge mantelpiece, and was continued from one
end of the apartment to the other. I asked the Rajah the reason of
such a structure in the apartment. He replied that he did not know,
nor could any of the workmen account for it; one of them, however,
took a pickaxe and dug out a portion, when, to my surprise and horror,
I discovered that in this wall a human being had been bricked up. The
skin was still upon the bones, which were covered with a costly dress
of white muslin, spangled all over with gold; around the neck was a
string of pearls; on the wrists and ankles were gold bangles, and on
the feet were a pair of slippers, embroidered all over with silver wire
or thread; such slippers as only Mahommedan women of rank or wealth can
afford to wear. The body resembled a well-preserved mummy. The features
were very distinct, and were those of a woman whose age could not at
the time of her death have exceeded eighteen or nineteen years. The
head was partially covered with the white dress. Long black hair was
still clinging to the scalp, and was parted across the forehead and
carried behind the ears. It was the most horrible and ghastly figure
that I ever beheld.
The workmen appeared to take this discovery as a matter of course;
or, rather, to regard it only with reference to the gold and silver
ornaments upon the skeleton, and it was with great difficulty that
I could prevent them stripping it, forthwith. As for the Rajah, he
simply smiled and coolly remarked: "A case of jealousy. Her husband was
jealous of her, and thought her guilty, and punished her thus--bricked
her up alive in this wall, with no room to move about, only standing
room. Perhaps she deserved it,--perhaps she was plotting against
his life; perhaps she was innocent: who can say? Hindoos as well as
Mahommedans punish their wives in that way."
"You mean that they used to do so in former times, previous to British
rule in India. But such a thing could not occur in our time."
"It does not occur so often as it did; but it does occur, sometimes,
even in these days. How do you know what happens in the establishment
of a wealthy native? Let us look a little further into the wall. It
strikes me that we shall find some more of them."
Orders were given accordingly to the workmen to remove with great care
the whole of the ledge, in short, to pull away its entire face. This
was done; and how shall I describe the awful spectacle then presented?
In that wall there were no less than _five_ bodies,--four besides that
already alluded to. One of the number was a young man, who from his
dress and the jewels on his finger-bones must have been a person of
high rank; perhaps the lover of one, or both, of the young women; for
he had been bricked up between two of them. The others were evidently
those of confidential servants; old women, for they had grey hair.
They possibly had been cognisant, or were supposed to be cognisant, of
whatever offence the others had been deemed guilty.
The sun was now shining brightly on these ghastly remains, covered with
garments embroidered in gold and silver. The air had a speedy effect
on them, and, one by one, they fell; each forming a heap of bones,
hair, shrivelled skin, dust, jewels, and finery. The latter were now
gathered up, placed in a small basket, and sent to Lallah. Their value,
possibly, was upwards of a thousand pounds. How many years had passed
since that horrible sentence had been put into execution? Not less than
one hundred and seventy, or perhaps two hundred.