IX.THROUGH THE CENTRAL PROVINCES.
Illustrated letter
OUR next stage was Allahabad, on the delta formed by the junction of the two greatest rivers in the world, the Jumna and the Ganges. The bridge over the former, which carries the train over the mighty stream, is a wonderful feat of engineering. To look over and see the speed at which the current carries this immense sheet of water under the bridge gives one a shudder, and unwittingly one grasps the iron railing with a force which cramps one’s hands. It seems as if the bridge was receding under one’s feet.
After Benares, Allahabad seems almost an European city, and therefore loses much of its attractions. It is, however, well worthy of a visit, as a great emporium of trade, as well as a great manufacturing city, one of the principal items being the manufacture of carpets, which here are made by machinery, and not merely by hand, as they are manufactured through other parts of India. In colour and appearance they are equally fine, but if they are much cheaper than those that are hand made, they lack in durability and finish. We might have tarried in Allahabad, but the weather was intensely hot, and a hot day in that city is not to be easily forgotten. We therefore moved on to Cawnpore, which was full of reminiscences of the greatMutiny, and even now is strongly garrisoned by English troops. Here are the great leather manufactories, and again the black earthen pottery we had met in a more crude and primitive state at Moghal-Serai. Having no particular reason to stay here, we pushed on to Agra, where we intended making a halt for a couple of days. We made straight for Fizarabad for dinner; slept at Tunala, and having started in the cool of the morning, reached Agra in time for breakfast.
It was not food we were craving for. Long before we reached the station our eyes had rested on that most marvellous structure, the Taj-Mahal, which has been justly termed the seventh marvel of the world, and still more appropriately, “a dream in marble.” Miles away, on the other side of the Jumna, cut in sharp outlines against the blue Indian sky, soaring above the green foliage, the gigantic white marble dome and marble minarets can be seen, increasing in size as the train draws nearer and nearer; but this hasty glimpse of the huge mausoleum gives a very poor idea of its stupendous size and awfully grandiose reality.
We had no patience until the carriages came to the door, and we were driven to the spot. Alas! The task of describing this monument is beyond my powers. In the face of it man is struck dumb—a feeling of insignificance creeps over one.
I have searched in vain for a true and faithful description of the Taj in the various books published on India, and am gratified to see that those who have preceded me at Agra have, likemyself, dropped both pen, brush, or pencil. Photography has made an attempt to portray it, but even this has proved a most miserable failure.
I must confine myself to historical facts. In the year 1623, the reigning prince (Shah Jehan), at the death of his wife, decided that he would erect a mausoleum which would, until the “crack of doom,” make her last resting-place on earth a memorable spot. Indian princes, when they make up their mind to achieve an object, seldom calculate the cost. It has to be, and—it is done.
Strange to relate, after searching the world for an architect, an obscure man—French by birth, a native of Bordeaux—submitted plans to this Eastern ruler—plans and estimates which one would think would stamp the projector as a confirmed lunatic.
Shah Jehan, however, at once accepted them; furthermore, he instructed the architect to proceed forthwith with the work. Materials were sought and brought out from the remotest regions of the globe.
To sum up this sketch, I will quote these authentic facts, viz., thattwenty thousand work-men were employed incessantly for twenty-two years to complete this monument.
At the completion of the work His Highness became so intoxicated with the pride of ownership that, fearing lest some other prince of the earth should copy it, he caused the plans to be destroyed; and, horrible to relate, he had the architect’s eyesgougedout to prevent his furnishing any one with copies of the originals (which had been burnt by the prince’s ownhands), whilst on the other hand he loaded him with riches, honours, &c.! My poor countryman died of a broken heart, having learned too late how fallacious it is to put trust in princes.
If this wonderful structure strikes the traveller with awe and admiration when seen from outside, his feelings are greatly intensified when he crosses its threshold; and at the foot of the mausoleum, under the centre of the dome, the awful silence becomes almost unbearable. Words cling to one’s tongue, and whispering is the only possible way of exchanging thoughts. Such whispers are carried up in the air to the apex of the huge dome—towering hundreds of feet above one’s head—repeated tenfold by mysterious echoes, and for several minutes are wafted from one side of the building to the other.
A prayer, or hymn, or tune sung in the lowest possible key, is likewise repeatedcrescendountil it reaches an almost deafening pitch; then again gradually becomes lower and lower until the last note is lost in the death-like silence which pervades this great marble sepulchre.
At each corner of the immense square on which the Taj-Mahal stands, are four white marble towers, with circular stairs leading to the minarets at the top. From these a grand view of the Taj can be had, as well as of the majestic Jumna, whose waters bathe the foot of the edifice.
Marvellous as it is to see the Taj in daylight—difficult as it is to describe its grandeur and beauty—much more marvellous and indescribable does it become when seen by moonlight. The soft effect of the rays of the moon vaporisesthe outlines, the white marble assumes a bluish tint, and the stillness of the night—all add to the enchantment.
Indeed, before leaving Agra, one should pay a score of visits to this place—see it at sunrise, at noon, at sunset, and, above all, by moonlight, unless the visitor can afford the luxury which was provided for H.R.H. the Prince of Wales, and have it specially lit up with electricity. But I very much doubt if it can outdo a clear, full moonlit night. Hunter, in his description of the Taj, most appropriately terms it “a monument designed by Titans and furnished by jewellers.”
Not content with the Taj, Emperor Shah Jehan endowed his capital with other monuments of great artistic and architectural beauty. The Pearl Mosque (Moli-Musjid) is the purest and loveliest house of prayer in the world. Like all other structures erected by this emperor, white marble is the only material used; but in this instance the panels are studded with most costly gems. Another mosque, built by him in Delhi (Jama-Musjid) was commenced in the fourth year of his reign and finished in the tenth.
The palace at Delhi—now the fort—covers a vast parallelogram, 1600ft. by 3200ft., with most exquisite buildings in marble and fine stone. A deeply-recessed portal leads into a vaulted hall, rising two stories like the nave of a gigantic Gothic cathedral, and 375 feet in length—the noblest entrance to any existing palace.
The Diwan-i-Khas, or court of private audience, overlooks the river—a masterpiece of delicate inlaid work of poetic design. Last, though not least, this emperor built the city ofShagehanabad (now New Delhi), and in his palace had the famous peacock throne, which was the most valuable of that brilliant epoch—the jewels alone being valued at £6,500,000.
Beyond these great “lions” Agra had not much to engross our attention—the carpet manufactories and a few temples and palaces—but after Benares the latter had little or no further attractions. The patient and accurate working of the carpet-makers is well worthy of mention, more particularly the work done by prisoners in the Agra jail, where the choicest and most elaborate carpets are made. The loom stands on a perpendicular frame, with two men on either side, and the pattern lays on the floor; the wool, silk, or cotton material, as the case may be, is passed from one side to the other, and “clipped” when properly fixed. These carpets are, of course, reversible. Four men, working twelve hours, are reckoned good hands if they can finish satisfactorily five inches square a-day; but as the job is generally given to men who have long sentences to serve, time is no object. At Allahabad the same carpets are made by machinery, but they cannot compare either for durability, finish, or even beauty, with those made in the Agra penitentiaries.
Agra was the only place where we were left to our own devices. Our friend, Dr. Tyler, had been summoned to Simla on official business; we therefore had to fight our way as we best could.