THE CLIMATE OF NORTHERN INDIA.
The new-comer's experience of climate prepares him for what he has to expect during his future residence. We have three marked seasons in the North-Western Provinces, the one melting gradually into the other—the hot season beginning in March and ending in June, the rainy season beginning with July and ending in October, and the cold weather beginning with November and ending in February. The seasons may thus be described in a general way, but in fact every year differs somewhat from others, as they do in our own country. The hot weather is sensibly felt before March begins, and the heat of March is far less than that of the succeeding months. The first burst of the rains is often before the middle of June, but after that burst, called the "little rainy season," it is not uncommon to have a spell of very hot sunny weather. In some years, indeed, there is so much weather of this kind during what is called the rainy season, that the heat is most intense, and the crops are burnt up. Towards the end of September there is commonly the last great outpour of rain, and as October advances there is the cooling freshness of the approaching cold weather, with enough of heat in the day-time to tell us it has not quite let go its grasp. December and January are our coldest months. In England, after an unpropitious summer, the remark is often made, "We have had no summer!" and in the same manner in India, when the temperature has been high in the cold season, and we have not had the expected bracing, we say, "We have had no winter!" Yet as in our own country, so in India; we have our marked seasons, though we cannot be sure of the weather at any particular period.
As India is an immense region, a great continent, with every variety of scenery, with plains extending hundredsof miles, and vast stretches of forests, with table-lands and lofty mountains, with land of every description from barren sand to the richest alluvial soil, the climate and products of its different countries are so different, that the statements made about one region, however correct, when applied to the whole are utterly misleading. I have been describing the seasons of the North-Western Provinces; and yet, as Benares is in the lower part of these provinces, its climate is considerably different from that of the country farther north and west. The farther north we travel the longer and colder is the cold season, and as a rule the hotter and briefer is the hot season. On one occasion the heat was so great in Benares in March that we found the night punkah pleasant; but on reaching Delhi, nearly six hundred miles distant, a few days afterwards, instead of seeking a night punkah we were thankful to have blankets to keep ourselves warm.
THE HOT SEASON.
I have a vivid recollection of my experiences of the climate during my first year. During our voyage on the Ganges the heat during the day was like that of a cloudless July in England, and at night it was pleasantly cool, the wood of the flat speedily giving off the heat it had taken in during the day, and the flow of the river contributing to our comfort. Reaching Benares as April was setting in, I speedily felt I was getting into the experience of an Indian hot season. The doors were opened before dawn to let in whatever coolness might come with the morning, and before eight they were shut to keep out the heat of the day. The lower part of the door was of wood, and the upper part of glass. Outside the doors were heavy wooden blinds, made after the fashion of Venetian blinds, the upper part of which were opened to let in from the verandah the degree of light absolutelynecessary with the least possible degree of heat. No prisoner in his cell is more excluded from an outside view than we were in our rooms during the day in the hot season. There was a remarkable contrast between the outside glare and the inside dimness, so that a person coming from without could not on entering see anything. The prevailing wind is from the west. There is enough in the morning to show the direction from which it is coming. It rises as the day advances; by two or three it blows with great strength, raising clouds of dust, and lulls towards evening. This wind is cool and bracing in the cold weather, but as the season advances it becomes warm, and by May its heat resembles the blast of a furnace. It every now and then gives place to the east wind, which is not nearly so hot, but is so enervating that the hot wind is greatly preferred. During the day we sit under the punkah, a great wooden fan suspended from the roof with great flapping fringes. This is pulled by a coolie, sometimes in the adjoining room, but when it can be arranged in the verandah outside, who has in his hand a rope attached to the punkah, which is brought to him by a small aperture in the wall, through which a piece of thin bamboo is inserted to make the friction as little as possible. When the west wind is blowing freshly, it is brought with most pleasant coolness into the house through platted screens of scented grass, on which water is continually thrown outside. For years machines resembling the fanners so much used by farmers in former days, with scented grass on each side and a hut of scented grass over them, on which water is continually thrown, with wheels turned round by hand labour, have been brought largely into use. These machines are appropriately called "Thermantidotes."
The night in the hot season is much more trying than the day. There is not a breath stirring, and the heat of the day, taken in by the walls, is radiated all the night long. I found the night punkah in almost universal use but I thought I would get on without it, and used it very seldom. When the next hot season came I was glad to conform to the custom of the country, for I found when I had not the punkah I got up in the morning so tired and weary that I was unfit for the work of the day.
The aspect of the country at that season is very dreary. Some trees retain their freshness in the hottest weather; but not a blade of green grass is to be seen, and the ground is scorched, scarred, and baked, as if it had been turned into a desert.
THE RAINY SEASON.
A marvellous change is produced by the first heavy fall of rain. After stifling heat for some days, the rays of the sun beating with a fierceness which threatens to burn up all nature, and which drives the birds for shelter to the thickest foliage of the trees, the clouds gather, the thunder rolls, peal quickly succeeding peal, the lightning flashes incessantly, and then, after some heavy showers, there comes down for two or three days, with very little intermission, such torrents that it looks as if we were to be visited with a deluge. Within a week all nature is transformed. The parched earth gives way to the richest green. We in our country say in very propitious weather that we see things grow; but in India vegetation takes such a bound as it never does in our temperate climate. Immediately after the downpour of rain, the sun comes out in all its strength; and, under the action of heat and moisture, vegetation progresses marvellously. The fields are quickly ploughed, the seed, for which moisture and great heat is required, is sown, and in the course of threeor four weeks they are far above the ground. Within three months the harvest of the rainy season, furnishing the people with rice, maize, and other grains, which furnish the principal food of the people, is gathered in.
The rainy season is productive in another and less pleasant manner. It is as favourable to insect life as it is to vegetable life. Flying white ants, flying bugs, and other unwelcome visitors of the same order, come out in thousands. At night, if the doors be open the white ants make for the lamps in such numbers that they are extinguished by them, and the room is in the morning found strewed with their dead. It requires a torpid temperament to remain calm under this visitation. All dislike it, and some find it a grievous trial. As the rainy season advances, the trouble abates, and by the time the cold weather sets in the ordinary house-fly by day and the mosquito by night alone remain to buzz about us. The mosquito has rightly got the first place among insect tormentors. The house-fly is at all seasons, in some more than in others, and gives not a little annoyance by its pertinacity.
The change at the commencement of the rainy season is delightful. The doors are thrown open, and the dry, parching wind gives place to a refreshing coolness. When the rain ceases, the heat returns; the weather is very muggy, the skin is irritated by the excessive perspiration, and many suffer more than during the hot season. When the rain is abundant and frequent, the suffering is much less than when there is little rain and much sun. There is one comfort at that time: we know we are going on to the cold weather, which will make amends for all that went before.
I can hardly conceive any country to have a finerclimate than that of the North-West Provinces of India in the cold months. Rain does sometimes fall during that season; it may fall at any time of the year. I remember a heavy fall on the first of May, and about Christmas and the New Year it is eagerly desired for the crops, but ordinarily from week to week there is an unclouded sky. There is a cool, pleasant breeze from the west. In the house it is not only cool but cold, so that a little sunning is pleasant, and at night in December and January, especially far up the country, fires are welcome. Then Europeans, so far as circumstances permit, get into the open air and move freely about, with everything in the climate to favour their travelling.
THE COLD SEASON.
The beginning of the cold weather is a very busy season with the agricultural class, to which the great body of the people belong. If the rainy season has been favourable, especially if heavy rain has fallen towards its close, the wells are full, and from these, after the land has been ploughed, and the seed sown for the rabee crop, the most valuable crop of the year, the fields are irrigated. Whatever grows in our land in summer grows in North-Western India at that season: wheat, oats, barley, potatoes, carrots, are grown in abundance. About March the harvest is reaped.
As I proceed with these reminiscences, I shall have frequent occasion to refer to our North Indian winter, its scenes, and employments, and I have thought it well to enter at some length into a description of its peculiarities.
One thing I observed my first year which I had abundant opportunity to observe afterwards. The weather so welcomed by Europeans is very trying to most natives, especially to those of the humbler classes, whose clothing is very scanty. They never try to get warm by taking exercise.They cower in the morning and evening round a fire, which has commonly for its fuel dried cow-manure, with a coarse blanket over their head and shoulders. As the sun gets above the horizon, they plant themselves against a wall to bask in its rays, and if they can, do not stir till they are well heated. As might be expected, many of them suffer from chronic rheumatism. The extreme heat is not liked by them, but from it they suffer far less than from cold.
While most Europeans get new life in the cold weather, the little ones showing by their rosy cheeks how much they are benefited, a few are in better health when the weather is warm, as then they are less subject to aguish attacks. The remark is often made by those who have much sedentary work that they like the cold season for enjoyment, but find it unfavourable for work, as they cannot keep so steadily at it as they can when the heat keeps them within doors.
While giving the reminiscences of my first year, my mind has been continually carried forward to the experience of after-years in reference to the vernacular languages, the various classes with whom residence in India brings one into contact, and the seasons of the country. In giving partial expression to this experience under the heading of my first year, I have gone far beyond it. Those who favour me with the perusal of my narrative may perhaps find it more intelligible by my having anticipated myself.
I must confess months of the first year passed before I ceased to feel myself an exile. The scenes around were so unlike those of my own country, the prevailing idolatry so repulsive, the society, associations, and climate so different, that I turned from them to my native land with many a fond longing look. This feeling of exile was no doubtdeepened by the illness in the family with whom I was residing. We had an English service every Thursday evening, conducted by the missionaries in the hall of the mission-house, but I greatly missed the services on the Lord's-day to which I had been accustomed.
decorative footer
BATHING GHAT, BENARES.
BATHING GHAT, BENARES.
My greatly beloved and much esteemed friend, the late Rev. M. A. Sherring, years ago published a handsome volume under the title ofThe Sacred City of the Hindus, in which he gave ample information about its history, temples, castes, festivals, commerce, and religious pre-eminence in Hindu estimation. To that work I must refer readers who are desirous to be furnished with details. My aim is to describe as concisely and vividly as I can the marked peculiarities of the place.
Benares is the largest city in the North-Western Provinces, though it is approached in population by some others, as Delhi, Agra, and Allahabad. It is among the largest purely native cities in India, but it is greatly surpassed in population and wealth by Calcutta, Bombay, and Madras, the great seats of British rule, and the great emporia of Indian as well as of European commerce in the East. These cities under our rule have risen to be among the greatest in Eastern Asia. For many a day the population of Benares was said to be above 500,000, but this has turned out a very exaggerated conjecture.[1]When the first careful census was taken, the resident population was found to be under 200,000, and every succeeding census has confirmed its substantial accuracy. In the last census the number given is 207,570. When the first census was taken great surprise was expressed at the result, and some asserted no dependence could be placed on it. The ground of this assertion was that in the houses of some of the wealthier classes there are many females, who live, in native phrase, behind the curtain, who are never seen by outsiders, to whom the officials of the Government have no access; and on this account the accuracy of the return made to the enumerators entirely depends on the faithfulness of the head of the household. It has been said that when the first census was taken the general impression was a capitation tax was to be imposed, and that in consequence the inmates reported were far below the actual number. If there was error on this account it was to a very limited extent, as every subsequent census has agreed with the first, although the notion of a capitation tax has entirely died out. One going through Benares, from street to street, from one end of it to the other, does not get the impression its resident population exceeds the estimate found in official statements. The city has a great floating population, as it is the resort of strangers from all parts of India. It is reckoned that on the occasion of the great festivals there may be 100,000 visitors, some say 200,000, but we are not aware any attempt has been made to number them.
[1]Bishop Heber visited Benares in 1824. He says in his journal, "The population, according to a census made in 1803, amounted to above 582,000—an enormous amount, and which one should think must have been exaggerated." The census which gives such a return must have been taken in a very singular manner.
[1]Bishop Heber visited Benares in 1824. He says in his journal, "The population, according to a census made in 1803, amounted to above 582,000—an enormous amount, and which one should think must have been exaggerated." The census which gives such a return must have been taken in a very singular manner.
TRADE AND COMMERCE.
In commerce, as in population, Benares holds a high, but not the highest, place among Indian cities. The district of Benares is not so large as some others in the North-West; but it is very productive, is densely peopled, and the city has on this account a large local business.Besides, the merchants and bankers of Benares have dealings with the other districts of the province, and indeed with all parts of India. The city has many artificers. It has workers in stone, wood, iron, brass, silver and gold. They produce articles which command a large and profitable sale. God-making and toy-making are among the staple businesses of the place. The making of idols in different materials to suit the taste and means of purchasers, gives employment to many. The images while being made are only stone, brass, or gold, as it may be, and no reverence is then due to them. It is when certain sacred words are uttered over them, and the god is supposed to take possession of them, they become objects of worship. Benares is well known for its toys made of very light wood, and lacquered over. Of late years the enchased brass vessels made in Benares have been much admired, and have secured a large and profitable sale. Perhaps the most important manufacture of the place iskimkhwab—kinkobas it is called by Europeans—cloth made of silver and gold tissue, in which the princes and grandees of India array themselves on state occasions. I believe this business has fallen off, as with the incoming of European influence the love of barbaric pearl and gold has declined, if not among the rajahs of the land, among a class beneath them, who formerly thought they could not retain their rank in society if they did not appear on special occasions in gorgeous robes.
While in population and commerce there are cities in India which surpass Benares, in Hindu estimation it stands above them all in religious pre-eminence. Perhaps at the present time more eyes are turned reverently towards it than to any city on the face of the earth.
A JEWELLER AT WORK.
A JEWELLER AT WORK.
I must attempt a brief sketch of the history of Benares.We are sure it was not among the first cities erected by the Aryans after leaving their home in Central Asia and crossing the Indus. They first took possession of the land in the far north-west of the great country they had entered, and gradually made their way to the south and east. Wonderfully acute and painstaking though the Pundit mind be, it has so dwelt in the regions of speculation and imagination that it has paid no attention to historical research. Its laborious productions have left us ignorant of recent times, and we need not therefore wonder that, except by incidental allusions, it throws no light on the early settlements of the Aryans in India. We know that they brought with them a considerable measure of civilization, and soon erected cities. Indraprastha, built near the site of the present city of Delhi, and Hastinapore, some thirty miles from it, figure largely in the Mahabharut, the giant Hindu epic. Kunauj, lying east and south of Delhi, became some time afterwards the capital of a widely extended empire, which lasted, with vicissitudes, down to Muhammadan times. Benares is seen in the dim light of antiquity as a favourite abode of Brahmans, and as sacred on that account, but it does not appear that it ever was the seat of extended rule. For many a day it was subject to Kunauj, and it afterwards came under the sway of the Muhammadans, to whom it was subject for six hundred years.
BUDDHISM.
A clear proof of the influential position of Benares centuries before the Christian era, is furnished by the fact that Gautama, the founder of Buddhism, deemed it well to commence his public ministry there in the sixth centuryB.C.[2]The spot where he first unfolded hisdoctrine was a grove at a place now called Sarnath, about four miles from the present city. At this place there is a large Buddhist tower, which is seen from a great distance, and around it are extensive remains, which have been excavated under the direction of Major-General Cunningham, and have been found to be of Buddhist origin. The success which Buddhism had achieved and maintained for centuries in the country where it arose, is strikingly confirmed by the testimony of two Chinese Buddhists who went on pilgrimage to India, the one in the fifth centuryA.D., and the other towards the middle of the seventh. Their narratives have been preserved, and furnish us with most interesting details. From them we learn that down to the time of their visits Buddhism had temples, monasteries, and thousands of adherents; but it had not the field to itself, for these strangers tell us, especially the later of the two, that a large and increasing number of the people were warmly attached to Hinduism. We have no historical account of the overthrow of Buddhism, but we have reason to believe that towards the close of the eleventh century, or earlier, the devotees of Hinduism rose against it, and so stamped it out that not a temple was left standing and not a monastery remained. Major-General Cunningham says that about that period "the last votaries of Buddha were expelled from the continent of India. Numbers of images, concealed by the departing monks, are found buried near Sarnath; and heaps of ashes still lie scattered amidst the ruins, to show that the monasteries were destroyed by fire." This is confirmed by excavations made at a later period by Major Kittoe, who says, "All has been sacked and burned—priests, temples, idols, all together; for, in some places, bones, iron, wood and stone, are found in huge masses: and this has happened more than once." From Benares having been the scene of Gautama's early ministry, and the place where his first disciples were called, it stands high in the reverence of the millions who compose his followers, although their only living representatives there now are a few Jains, whom orthodox Buddhists regard as heretics.
[2]The names and titles of this famous teacher are perplexing to those who do not know the meaning. His father was chief or king of a tribe called Sakyas, and therefore Gautama received the name of Sakya-Muni, or Sakya-Saint. When he announced himself as the inspired teacher of the nations he took the name of Buddha—the wise man, the enlightener, the inspired prophet.
[2]The names and titles of this famous teacher are perplexing to those who do not know the meaning. His father was chief or king of a tribe called Sakyas, and therefore Gautama received the name of Sakya-Muni, or Sakya-Saint. When he announced himself as the inspired teacher of the nations he took the name of Buddha—the wise man, the enlightener, the inspired prophet.
THE SACREDNESS OF KASEE.
Long before the time of Gautama Hinduism prevailed at Benares, and we have observed its rites were practised side by side with those of Buddhism when the city was visited by two Chinese pilgrims. Some time afterwards it obtained full sway under the form of fanatical devotion to Shiva the Destroyer, and that sway it has maintained down to our day. What Jerusalem is to the Jews; what Mecca is to the Muhammadans; what Rome is to the Roman Catholics—that, and more than that, Benares is to the Hindus. They form by far the largest portion of the population of India, and to them Benares—or as they delight to call it, Kasee the Splendid, the Glorious City—is the most sacred spot on earth. They say, indeed, it is not built on the earth, but on a point of Shiva's trident. They assert that at one time it was of gold, but in this degenerate age it has been turned into stone and clay. In their belief the Ganges is sacred through its entire course, but as it flows past the sacred city its cleansing efficacy is supposed to be vastly increased. The rites performed at Kasee have double merit, and its very soil and air are so fraught with blessing that all who die there go to heaven, whatever theircharacter may be. With this belief diffused among the millions who, differing widely from each other in nationality and language, are devoted to Hinduism, it may be supposed how many eyes are reverently turned towards Kasee, and with what eager steps and high expectations vast numbers resort to it. I have frequently seen persons entering the city, not on foot—that they did not deem sufficiently respectful—but prostrating themselves on the ground, measuring the ground with their bodies, and approaching the sacred shrines. And then, especially on the occasion of great festivals, bands may be seen entering the city, often composed of women—hand-in-hand lest they should lose each other in the crowd—singing the praises of Shiva and the glories of his city. Many aged people come from distant parts of India—the greater number, I believe, from Bengal—to reside and end their days in it, that by becoming Kasseebas (dwellers in Kasee) they may when they die become Baikuntbas (dwellers in heaven).
Though Benares bepar excellencethe sacred city of the Hindus, strange to say they are proportionately fewer than in ten cities of the North-West. According to the census of 1872, there were 133,549 Hindus and 44,374 Mussulmans: that is, a little more than three Hindus to one Mussulman. In the great commercial city of Mirzapore, about thirty miles distant from Benares, there were five Hindus to one Mussulman. The fact thus certified is entirely at variance with the conjecture made by those who look at the crowds bathing at the riverside, and frequenting the temples, and contrast them with the small number seen in the mosques, even on Friday, the Muhammadan weekly day of worship. In the district the Hindus vastly out-number the Muhammadans.
Benares is built on the left bank of the Ganges, and extends in a crescent shape three miles and a half along the bank, and a little more than a mile inward. The most imposing view is from a boat slowly dropping down the stream in the early morning—the earlier the better, especially if it be the hot season, as then the people betake themselves to the river in greater numbers than at any other time. Travellers in many lands who have seen this view, have declared it to be one of the most remarkable sights of the kind which the world presents.
Photographic and pencil pictures of Benares have appeared in illustrated newspapers, in periodicals and books, and give a more vivid and correct impression than can be conveyed by a verbal description. These pictures can, however, be better understood when those who look at them are furnished with information which no picture can afford.
The right bank of the Ganges at Benares is very low, and is always flooded when the river rises; but the left bank, on which the city stands, is in many parts more than a hundred feet high. The river sweeps round this high bank. The city is connected with the river by flights of stone steps, called "ghats." This word ghat often meets the reader of books on India. It has various meanings. It means a mountain-pass, a ferry, a place on the riverside where people meet, and, as is the case at Benares, the steps which lead down to the river. Two small streams enter the Ganges at Benares—on the southern side the Assi, on the northern side the Burna. Some have supposed that the city has received its name from lying between these two rivulets—Burna, Assi, making the word Burunassi, Benares; but this derivation is more than doubtful. Others maintain the word comes from afamous rajah called Bunar; but this, too, is a mere conjecture.
A TRIP ON THE RIVER.
Let me take my readers with me on a trip down the river. We embark at early dawn on a native boat at Assi Sungam, which means the confluence of the Assi with the Ganges, at the southern extremity. Towards that end of the city some of the houses seen on the high bank are poor, some are falling into decay; but as you advance, lofty buildings, some of them of a size and grandeur which entitle them to the name of palaces, come into view. Their numerous small windows, their rich and varied carving, their balconies and flat roofs, give them a very Eastern look. Perhaps the most notable of the buildings are an observatory, built by a famous Rajput prince, Jae Singh, and a massy and extensive structure, with its buttresses and high walls looking as if recently erected, which was built in the last half of the eighteenth century by Cheit-Singh, the Rajah of Benares at that time, who was deposed by Warren Hastings on account of his refusal to comply with the demands of the British Government. In Macaulay's famous Essay on Warren Hastings there is a long narrative of this contest, which is amusingly at variance with the narrative given by Warren Hastings himself. This building is still called Cheit-Singh's Palace, but since his day it has been the property of the British Government, and has been for many years the residence of princes of the old imperial family of Delhi, who on account of family troubles had come to reside in Benares, and were, happily for themselves, far from Delhi during the mutiny of 1857. Some of the mansions facing the river belong to Indian princes, who occupy them on the rare occasion of visits to the city, and leave them in charge of servants, of whom anumber are Brahmans performing sacred rites on their behalf.
There is one spot on the riverside from which most visitors avert their eyes with horror—the place where the dead of Benares and the surrounding country are being burnt, and the ashes thrown into the stream. The fire at that place never goes out. Cremation, not burial, it is well known, is the Indian mode of disposing of the dead.
The peculiarity of Benares as the sacred city of the country is strikingly attested by the temples, which crowd the high bank of the river, and arrest the special attention of the visitor. Some of these are much larger and more expensive than others, but there is little variety in their form; and all of them, even the largest and most frequented, are small compared with Christian and Muhammadan places of worship. They are circular, with heavy domes narrowing towards the top, and, as a rule, with a narrow doorway alone admitting light and air. Some domes are of respectable height, but none approach that of many of our church towers and steeples. Most of the temples are sacred to Shiva, Mahadeo, the Great God, as his devotees delight to call him, and are surmounted by his trident. Many have a pole at their side with a flag attached to it. One sees at a glance they must, though small, have cost large sums, as they are most solidly built of hewn stone, and have all more or less of ornamentation. A few temples are built close to the water's edge. One has got off its equilibrium, and looks as if it were about to fall into the stream; but for many years it has remained in this tottering position.
BATHING IN THE SACRED STREAM.
While the houses and temples on the riverside are viewed with interest, the visitor, as he looks from his boat, is still more interested in the living mass beforehim. It is the early morning. The sun has just risen above the horizon, and is shedding its bright rays on the river and the city. It looks as if all the inhabitants were astir and had made their way to the river. Crowds are seen on the steps, some even then making their way back after having bathed, and others going down to the stream. Thousands are in the water. Men and women, boys and girls, are there—the men and women at a short distance from each other. Immediately above the water are platforms with huge stationary umbrellas over them, and on these men are squatted, whose portly appearance betokens ease and plenty. These are Gungaputrs—sons of the Ganges—a class of Brahmans, whose duty it is to take care of the clothes of the people as they bathe, to put a mark on their forehead to show they have bathed, and who receive a small offering from them as they retire. All bring with them their bathing-dress, and they most deftly take off and put on their scanty clothing. When the bathing is over they wring out the clothes in which they have bathed, fill with Ganges water a small brazen vessel, which each person carries with him, and make their way into the city to pay their homage to their favourite gods before proceeding to their homes. I have been told that the very devout among them visit some thirty temples of a morning.
You watch the people as they bathe. It is evident they are not engaged in mere ablution, so important for health and comfort in that hot climate. They are engaged in worship. You see them taking up the water of the Ganges in the palm of their hands, and offering it up to the sun as they mutter certain prescribed words. You observe them making a circular motion, and if sufficiently near you see them breathing heavily, which you are toldis their way of driving away demons, who even in that sacred spot are said to haunt them. There is no united worship: each worshipper apart performs his and her devotion. There is incessant movement among the crowd. As the words of worship—I might rather say the spells—they have been instructed to use are not whispered but uttered, and by many with a loud voice, a stream of sound falls on the ear. If, at some spot where bathers are not inconvenienced, the boat be moored, and the visitor ascends the steps, he may find on certain days, in two or three places, pundits reading and explaining the Ramayan, or the Mahabharut, the great Hindu Epic Poems, to a crowd of people, mainly composed of women. Sentence by sentence is read from poetical translations made long ago, which require to be re-translated into the ordinary language of the people to be generally intelligible. We have occasionally stopped to hear these pundits, and, judging by what we heard, we concluded they satisfied themselves with a loose paraphrase of what they were reading. These men are rewarded with a respectful and attentive hearing, and with something more substantial when the work is over.
If the visitor is bent on obtaining a full impression of the work continually carried on in Benares, he will make his way into the city from one of the principal bathing-places. He will speedily find himself in long narrow streets, with lofty stone houses on either side. The buildings are of hewn stone, and of the most substantial description. They have for the most part a narrow doorway, opening into a quadrangle, around which are the apartments of the inmates. The streets are so narrow that through some of them a vehicle cannot be taken, and in others conveyances pass each other withdifficulty. There are parts of the narrower streets and lanes on which the sun never shines. In the few cases where houses on both sides of the street opposite each other belong to one proprietor, there is at the top a bridge by which the inmates pass from one to the other.
WORSHIP IN THE TEMPLES.
Not the houses, however, but the temples, secure the chief attention of the visitor. They are seen on every side. Numerous though they be, they are not sufficient to meet the demands of the people. At every few steps objects of worship meet your view. In niches of the walls are little images, so worn by the weather and by the water poured on them by worshippers that it is difficult to determine what they are intended to represent. At your feet, close to the walls, you see misshapen stones which are regarded as sacred. As you proceed you find yourself accompanied by a crowd who have bathed, and who are going to complete their morning worship by acts of obeisance to their gods. They are seen, as they walk, bowing their heads and folding their hands before the sacred objects that line their way. Every now and then one of a party will raise the shout "Mahadeo jee kee jae!"—("Victory to the Great God"), that is to Shiva, to whom this title is given; and the shout is taken up and repeated by others till the street resounds. It has occurred to me that this is done with peculiar force when Europeans are within hearing.
THE TEMPLE OF BISHESHWAR.
You speedily find yourself at the principal temple of Benares—the temple of Bisheshwar, sacred to Shiva under this name, which meansLord of All. This temple is in the midst of a quadrangle, covered in with a roof; over it are a tower, a dome, and a spire. The tower and dome glitter in the sun like masses of burnished gold,and on this account it is called the Golden Temple. Natives will tell you that it is covered with plates of solid gold, but in fact it is merely gilded with gold leaf, spread over plates of copper overlaying the stones beneath. Under the dome is a belfry in which nine bells are suspended, and these are so low that they can be tolled by the hand of those who frequent the temple. We are told that the temple, including the tower, is fifty-one feet in height. "Outside the enclosure is a large collection of deities, raised upon a platform, called by the natives 'The Court of Mahadeo.'" Though the gods in the Hindu books are represented as continually quarrelling with each other, and their devotees take up their quarrels, not only at the temple of Bisheshwar, but throughout the city which is regarded as Shiva's own, they are seen side by side, as in perfect amity, and there is not a single god who does not secure the special devotion of some worshippers. It is, however, required of all who dwell in Kasee, or frequent it, to acknowledge that Mahadeo is entitled to supreme homage, and that to him in the first instance obeisance must be made. The symbol of Shiva, or Mahadeo, which is found wherever he is worshipped, is theLinga, a conical stone, which does not in itself suggest any impure notion, but which is intended to be a vile representation. In this famous temple this conical stone receives special honour. There, too, are figures of Shiva himself in all his hideousness, with his three eyes, covered with ashes, and his eyes inflamed with intoxicating herbs. Outside the temple there is a figure cut in stone of a bull seven feet high, sacred to the god, as this is his favourite animal for riding. Within the quadrangle there is a well calledGyan Bapee, the well of knowledge, to which it is said the god betook himselfwhen he was expelled from his former temple by the bigot Emperor Aurungzeb. On this account the well is deemed specially sacred. It is surmounted by a handsome low-roofed colonnade with forty pillars. It is covered with an iron grating, in which there is an aperture for small vessels to be let down into it, which when full are drawn up, and the water thus drawn is highly prized. As from day to day a large quantity of flowers are thrown into it, it may be supposed how horrible its water and how offensive its smell; it is a wonder the people are not poisoned by it.
We must not proceed further with this description of Bisheshwar's temple. Those who wish for more information can find it in the ample details given by Mr. Sherring.
To this temple thousands resort every day. It is open, and priests are present, we are told, twenty hours in the twenty-four. It is only shut from midnight till four in the morning. The temple itself holds a very small number, and the entire quadrangle would be crowded by one of our large congregations. The people press into it in one continuous stream, toll a bell to draw the attention of the god, make their obeisance, pour on the object of their worship a little of the Ganges water from the small brazen vessel they have in their hand, throw on it some flowers, give a present to the attendant priests, go round the building with their right hand towards it, and pass away to give place to others.
How does the visitor regard this scene? Apart from the consideration of the dishonour done to the ever-blessed God by worship rendered to images representing gods that are no gods—by which, if a Christian, he must be painfully affected—there is much in the scene beforehim to impress him with the sottish folly into which man can sink in his religious views and practices; and there is nothing to draw forth his regard and sympathy, except it be the fervour, the deep though mistaken fervour, of some of the worshippers, especially of the women, who may sometimes be seen with children in their arms teaching them to make obeisance to the idol. In Roman Catholic worship there is much which, as Protestants ruled by the Bible, we rightly condemn; but in the gorgeous vestments of its priests, in the magnificence of many of the places in which they minister, in the grand strains of their music and in their processions, there is much to impress the senses and awe the mind; but in the worship carried on in the temple of Bisheshwar it is difficult to find a redeeming quality. The whole scene is repulsive. The place is sloppy with the water poured out by the worshippers, and is littered by the flowers they present. The ear is assailed with harsh sounds. The ministering priests—Pundas as they are called—are, as a rule, coarse-looking men, with shaven head, save with a long pendent tuft from the crown, with the mark of their god on their forehead, and are very scantily attired. They clamour for a present when a European appears, and if given it is declared to be an offering to the god of the place. Among the crowd you see men with matted hair and body bedaubed with ashes, who have broken away from all domestic and social duties, and devote themselves to what is called a religious life. Some of these ascetics are no doubt impelled to follow the life they lead by a superstitious feeling, but many are idle vagabonds ready for the practice of every villainy, who find it more pleasant to roam about the land and live on others than support themselves by honest labour. Thepeople dread their curse, but many give them neither respect nor love. At a place like Bisheshwar's temple there is always a host of ordinary beggars, who clamour for alms, and receive from some two or three shells, calledcowries, sixty of which go to make up a halfpenny, from others a little grain, and from the more liberal or more wealthy a small coin.
THE MOSQUE OF AURUNGZEB.
From this stirring scene you have only a few steps to go to find yourself in the large mosque built by the Emperor Aurungzeb on the site of the old temple of Bisheshwar, which was thrown down to give place to it. The contrast is very striking. You have left the bustling, noisy crowd, and see only a few individuals in the attitude of devotion—now standing with folded hands, then on their knees, then with forehead touching the floor, engaged in supplicating the Invisible One. Instead of grotesque and repulsive images meeting your view, you see very little ornament of any kind, and are impressed with the severe simplicity of the lofty building. The more one knows of Muhammadanism, the more grievous are its defects and errors seen to be; but in the simplicity of its mosques, which has nothing in common with the sordid barn-like bareness too characteristic at one time of many places of worship in our own land, there is much from which Christians might learn a useful lesson.
Within a stone's throw of Bisheshwar's temple there is a host of temples, none of them very large, some of them small, but most covered with carving, to some extent for mere ornamentation, but chiefly for the purpose of illustrating the objects of Hindu worship. If you visit them you will see everything is accordant with the great shrine you have left. You will see Shiva,sometimes seated on a bull, sometimes on a dog; his hideous partner Durga, with her eight arms and her ferocious look, indicating her delight in blood; Hanuman, the monkey-god, with his huge tail; Krishna engaged in his gambols; Ganesh, the god of wisdom, with his elephant head and protuberant belly; and many others beside. Everything you see is wild, grotesque, unnatural, forbidding, utterly wanting in verisimilitude and refinement, with nothing to purify and raise the people, with everything fitted to pervert their taste and lower their character; and yet, I must add, with everything to give a faithful representation of the mythology prepared by their religious leaders. The pundits who wrote the sacred books of the Hindus were men of great talent, of abundant leisure; and it is a marvel to me, of which I can give no explanation, how they spent their days in spinning the wildest legends, and in setting forth their gods as performing the most fantastic, capricious, foolish, and wicked deeds, when they had a clear canvas before them, and might have filled it with something worthy of our nature, and worthy of objects to be worshipped.
Aurungzeb's mosque has two lofty minarets, rising about a hundred and fifty feet above its floor, and thus having from the river an elevation of two hundred and fifty feet. From a boat on the river the visitor has the nearest and most impressive view of the city, with its peculiarities as the high place of Hindu worship. If he proceed to the top of one of the minarets, which is reached by a steep, dark spiral stair, he will have a most commanding and extensive view of the city, the river, and the country for many miles around. He will see that while the streets in the centre of the city are long and narrow, and have very lofty houses, beyond these theroads widen, and many of the houses are poor and mean. As his eye falls on the part beyond the most crowded portion, he will observe here and there fine mansions with gardens around them, evidently belonging to the wealthy portion of the community, but surrounded by poor streets.