Ancient Delhi—The Bā’olī—Tombs of Shah’ālam, Bahādur Shah, and Akbar Shah—The Zenāna Ghār—Extent of the Ruins—The Observatory—Palace of Shāhjahānabad—The Zenāna—Hyat-ool-Nissa Begam—Poverty of the Descendants of Tamurlane—The Effect of a Zenāna education on Man and Woman—Death of Prince Dara Bukht—The Dewani Am—The Dewani Khas—The Palace—The Shah-burj—Gardens of Shalimar—Ruins of Palaces and Baths—The Modern City—Tees Huzzari Bagh—The Madrissa—The Jama Masjid—The Kala Masjid—Plan of the City of Delhi—Quitted Delhi, and returned to Meerut—Tomb of Pīr Shah.
1838, Feb. 22nd.—In the cool of the evening we mounted our horses, and rode to Ancient Delhi, or Indrapesta, now called Marowlie, the capital of the former Rajas. At this place, many houses were pointed out to us as having belonged to the mighty dead; but my attention was arrested by a bā’olī, an immense well. From the top of the well to the surface of the water the depth is sixty feet, and the depth of water below forty feet; just above the surface of the water the side of the well opens on a flight of stone steps, which lead to the upper regions. I peered over the well to see the water, and shuddered as I looked into the dark cold depth below; at that instant a man jumped from the top into the well, sank a great depth, rose again, and, swimming to the opening, came up the steps like a drenched rat; three more immediately followed his example, and then gaily claimed a “bakshish,” or reward, begging a rupee, which was given: we did not stay to see the sport repeated, at which the jumpers appeared disappointed.
Quitting the bā’olī, we visited the tombs of the three last emperors of Delhi,—Bahādur Shah, Shah’ālam, and Akbar Shah. The latter had been placed there within a few weeks; the tomb of Shah’ālam is of white marble, and about eighteen inches distant from that of the Emperor Bahādur Shah, over whose tomb flourishes a white jasmine. How are the mighty fallen! I had visited the tomb of Humaioon, and the still grander monument of Akbar at Secundra; had admired the magnificent building, its park and portal. The last Akbar reposes side by side with the two former emperors. Three marble tombs, prettily sculptured, in a small open court, the walls of which are of white marble, is all that adorns the burial-place of the descendants of Tamurlane!
The building that most interested me was the Royal Zenāna Ghār. At certain times of the year the Emperor of Delhi used to retire to this spot with all his ladies; the place is prettily situated amidst rocks and trees: there, seated at ease on his cushions of state, his amusement was to watch the sports of the ladies of the zenāna, as they jumped from the roof of a verandah into the water below, and then came up to jump in again. On the other side is another tank, with a sloping bank of masonry; on this slope the ladies used to sit, and slide down into the tank. In the water, amidst the trees, the graceful drapery of the Musulmanī and Hindū ladies clinging to their well-formed persons must have had a beautiful effect. During these sports guards were stationed around, to prevent the intrusion of any profane eye on the sacredness of the zenāna.
At 9 P.M. we revisited the minār: the night was remarkably fine, no moon, but a dark blue, clear star-light. The minār is fine by day, its magnitude surprising; but, by night, a feeling of awe is inspired by its unearthly appearance. If you ask a native, “Who built the Kutab?” his answer will generally be,—“God built it;—who else could have built it?” And such is the feeling as you stand at the base, looking up to the top of the column of the polar star, which appears to tower into the skies: I could not withdraw my eyes from it; the ornaments, beautiful as they are by day, at night, shadowed as they were into the mass of building, only added to its grandeur. We roamed through the colonnades, in the court of the beautiful arches, and returned most unwillingly to our tents.
23rd.—Quitted the Kutab without revisiting Tuglukabad, our time not admitting of it; and I greatly regretted not having the power of visiting the tombs that surrounded us on every side the ruins of Ancient Delhi. The extent of these ruins is supposed not to be less than a circumference of twenty miles, reckoning from the gardens of Shalimar, on the north-west, to the Kutab Minār, on the south-east, and proceeding thence along the centre of the old city, by way of the mausoleum of Nizam-al-Deen, the tomb of Humaioon, which adjoins, and the old fort of Delhi, on the Jumna, to the Ajmeer gate of Shāhjahānabad. The environs to the north and west are crowded with the remains of the spacious gardens and country houses of the nobility, which in former times were abundantly supplied with water, by means of the noble canal dug by Ali Merdan Khan.
Franklin remarks,—“Ancient Delhi is said by historians to have been erected by Rajah Delu, who reigned in Hindūstan prior to the invasion of Alexander the Great: others affirm it to have been built by Rajah Pettouvar, who flourished at a much later period. It is called in Sanscrit Indraput, or the Abode of Indra, one of the Hindū deities, and is thus distinguished in the royal diplomas of the Chancery office.”
On our road home, about a mile and a half from the present city of Delhi, we stopped to visit the Observatory, Jantr-Mantr, a building well worthy the inspection of the traveller. The name of Jayasinha, the Rajah of Ambhere, or Jayanagar, and his astronomical labours, are not unknown in Europe; but yet the extent of his exertions in the cause of science is little known; his just claims to superior genius and zeal demand some enumeration of the labours of one whose name is conspicuous in the annals of Hindūstan. Jey-sing or Jayasinha succeeded to the inheritance of the ancient Rajahs of Ambhere in the year of Vicramadittya 1750, corresponding to 1693 of the Christian æra. His mind had been early stored with the knowledge contained in the Hindū writings, but he appears to have peculiarly attached himself to the mathematical sciences, and his reputation for skill in them stood so high, that he was chosen by the Emperor Mahommed Shah to reform the calendar, which, from the inaccuracy of the existing tables, had ceased to correspond with the actual appearance of the heavens. Jayasinha undertook the task, and constructed a new set of tables; which, in honour of the reigning prince, he named Zeej Mahommedshahy. By these, almanacks are constructed at Delhi, and all astronomical computations made at the present time.
The five observatories, which were built and finished by Jayasinha, still exist in a state more or less perfect; they were erected at Jeypoor, Matra, Benares, Oujein, and Delhi.
The next observatory, in point of size and preservation, is that at Oujein; it is situated at the southern extremity of the city, in the quarter called Jeysingpoorah, and where are still the remains of a palace of Jayasinha, who was subahdar of Malwa in the time of Mahommed Shah. The observatory at Oujein has since been converted into an arsenal and foundry of cannon.
At Matra, the remains of the observatory are in the fort which was built by Jayasinha on the banks of the Jumna.
The observatory at Delhi is situated without the wall of the city, at the distance of one mile and a quarter. It consists of several detached buildings:—
1. A large equatorial dial: its form is pretty entire, but the edges of the gnomon, and those of the circle on which the degrees were marked, are broken in several places. This is the instrument called by Jayasinha semrat-yunter (the prince of dials). It is built of stone, but the edges of the gnomon, and of the arches where the gradation was, were of white marble; a few small portions of which only remain.
2. At a little distance from this instrument, towards the north-west, is another equatorial dial; more entire, but smaller and of a different construction. In the middle stands a gnomon, which, as usual in these buildings, contains a staircase up to the top. On each side of this gnomon are two concentric semicircles, having for their diameters the two edges of the gnomon; it is evident that they represent meridians. On each side of this post is another gnomon, equal in size to the former; and to the eastward and westward of them are the arches on which the hours are marked.
3. The north wall of this building connects the three gnomons at their highest end; and on this wall is described a graduated semicircle, for taking the altitudes of bodies that lie due east, or due west, from the eye of the observer.
4. To the westward of this building, and close to it, is a wall, in the plane of the meridian, on which is described a double quadrant, having for the centres the two upper corners of the wall, for observing the altitudes of bodies passing the meridian, either to the north or south of the zenith.
5. To the southward of the dial are two buildings, named Ustuánah. They exactly resemble one another, and are designed for the same purpose, which is, to observe the altitude and azimuth of the heavenly bodies. They are two in number, on purpose that two persons may observe at the same time, and so compare and correct their observations.
These buildings are circular; and in the centre of each is a pillar, of the same height as the building itself, which is open at top. From this pillar to the height of about three feet from the bottom, proceed radii of stone, horizontally, to the circular wall of the building.
6. Between these two buildings and the great equatorial dial is an instrument called shamlah. It is a concave hemispherical surface, formed of mason work, to represent the inferior hemisphere of the heavens.
The best and most authentic account of the labours of Jayasinha for the completion of his work and the advancement of astronomical knowledge, is contained in his own preface to the Zeej Mahommedshahy; from which the following extract is a literal translation:—
“To accomplish the exalted command which he had received, he (Jey-sing) bound the girdle of resolution about the loins of his soul, and constructed here (at Delhi) several of the instruments of an observatory, such as had been erected at Samarcand, agreeably to the Musalman books: such as Zat-ul-huluck, of brass, in diameter three guz of the measure now in use (which is nearly equal to two cubits of the Koran), and Zat-ul-shobetein, and Zat-ul-suchetein, and Suds-Fukheri, and Shamlah. But finding that brass instruments did not come up to the ideas that he had formed of accuracy, because of the smallness of their size, the want of division into minutes, the shaking and wearing of their axes, the displacement of the centres of the circles, and the shifting of the planes of the instruments; he concluded that the reason why the determinations of the ancients, such as Hipparchus and Ptolemy, proved inaccurate, must have been of this kind; therefore he constructed in Dar-ul-kheláfet, Shah-Jehanabad, which is the seat of empire and prosperity, instruments of his own invention, such as Jey-per-gàs and Ram-junter, and Semrat-junter, the semi-diameter of which is eighteen cubits, and one minute on it is a barleycorn and a half, of stone and lime, of perfect stability, with attention to the rules of geometry and adjustment to the meridian, and to the latitude of the place, and with care in the measuring and fixing of them; so that the inaccuracies from the shaking of the circles, and the wearing of their axes, and displacement of their centres, and the inequality of the minutes, might be corrected.
“Thus an accurate method of constructing an observatory was established; and the difference which had existed between the computed and observed places of the fixed stars and planets, by means of observing their mean motions and aberrations with such instruments, was removed. And, in order to confirm the truth of these observations, he constructed instruments of the same kind in Sewaī Jeypoor, and Matra, and Benares, and Oujein.”
After this most interesting visit to the Observatory, we returned to Delhi.
During my visit at Khāsgunge, Mr. James Gardner gave me an introduction to one of the princesses of Delhi, Hyat-ool-Nissa Begam, the aunt of the present, and sister of the late king. Mr. James Gardner is her adopted son. The princess sent one of her ladies to say she should be happy to receive me, and requested me to appoint an hour. The weather was excessively hot, but my time was so much employed I had not an hour to spare but one at noon-day, which was accordingly fixed upon.
I was taken in a palanquin to the door of the court of the building set apart for the women, where some old ladies met and welcomed me. Having quitted the palanquin, they conducted me through such queer places, filled with women of all ages; the narrow passages were dirty and wet,—an odd sort of entrance to the apartment of a princess!
Under a verandah, I found the princess seated on a gaddī, of a green colour. In this verandah she appeared to live and sleep, as her charpāī, covered with a green razā’ī, stood at the further end. She is an aged woman; her features, which are good, must have been handsome in youth; now they only tell of good descent. Green is the mourning worn by the followers of the prophet. The princess was in mourning for her late brother, the Emperor Akbar Shah. Her attire consisted of trowsers of green satin, an angiya, or boddice of green, and a cashmere shawl of the same colour: jewels are laid aside during the days of mātam (mourning). I put off my shoes before I stepped on the white cloth that covered the carpet, and advancing, made my bahut bahut adab salām, and presented a nazr of one gold mohur. The princess received me very kindly, gave me a seat by her side, and we had a long conversation. It is usual to offer a gold mohur on visiting a person of rank; it is the homage paid by the inferior to the superior: on the occasion of a second visit it is still correct to offer a nazr, which may then consist of a bouquet of freshly-gathered flowers. The compliment is graciously received, this homage being the custom of the country.
I had the greatest difficulty in understanding what the Begam said, the loss of her teeth rendering her utterance imperfect. After some time, she called for her women to play and sing for my amusement. I was obliged to appear pleased, but my aching head would willingly have been spared the noise. Her adopted son, the son of the present King Bahadur Shah, came in; he is a remarkably fine, intelligent boy, about ten years old, with a handsome countenance. Several other young princes also appeared, and some of their betrothed wives, little girls of five and six years old: the girls were plain. The princess requested me to spend the day with her; saying that if I would do so, at 4 P.M. I should be introduced to the emperor (they think it an indignity to call him the king), and if I would stay with her until the evening, I should have nāches for my amusement all night. In the mean time she desired some of her ladies to show me the part of the palace occupied by the zenāna. Her young adopted son, the heir-apparent, took my hand, and conducted me over the apartments of the women. The ladies ran out to see the stranger: my guide pointed them all out by name, and I had an opportunity of seeing and conversing with almost all the begams. A plainer set I never beheld: the verandahs, in which they principally appeared to live, and the passages between the apartments, were mal propre. The young prince led me through different parts of the palace, and I was taken into a superb hall: formerly fountains had played there; the ceiling was painted and inlaid with gold. In this hall were three old women on charpāīs (native beds), looking like hags; and over the marble floor, and in the place where fountains once played, was collected a quantity of offensive black water, as if from the drains of the cook rooms. From a verandah, the young prince pointed out a bastion in which the king was then asleep, and I quitted that part of the palace, fearing the talking of those who attended me, and the laughing of the children, might arouse his majesty from his noon-day slumbers.
On my return to the princess I found her sister with her, a good-humoured, portly-looking person. They were both seated on chairs, and gave me one. This was in compliment, lest the native fashion of sitting on the ground might fatigue me. The heat of the sun had given me a violent headache. I declined staying to see the king, and requested permission to depart.
Four trays, filled with fruit and sweetmeats, were presented to me; two necklaces of jasmine flowers, fresh gathered, and strung with tinsel, were put round my neck; and the princess gave me a little embroidered bag filled with spices. It is one of the amusements of the young girls in a zenāna to embroider little bags, which they do very beautifully; these they fill with spices and betel-nut, cut up into small bits; this mixture they take great delight in chewing. An English lady is not more vain of a great cat and kitten with staring eyes, worked by herself in Berlin wool, than the ladies behind the parda of their skill in embroidery. On taking my departure the princess requested me to pay her another visit; it gave her pleasure to speak of her friends at Khāsgunge. She is herself a clever, intelligent woman, and her manners are good. I had satisfied my curiosity, and had seen native life in a palace; as for beauty, in a whole zenāna there may be two or three handsome women, and all the rest remarkably ugly. I looked with wonder at the number of plain faces round me.
When any man wishes to ascend the minarets of the Jāma Masjid, he is obliged to send word to the captain of the gate of the palace, that the ladies may be apprised, and no veiled one may be beheld, even from that distance: the fame of the beauty of the generality of the women may be continued, provided they never show their faces. Those women who are beautiful are very rare, but then their beauty is very great; the rest are generally plain. In England beauty is more commonly diffused amongst all classes. Perhaps the most voluptuously beautiful woman I ever saw was an Asiatic.
I heard that I was much blamed for visiting the princess, it being supposed I went for the sake of presents. Natives do not offer presents unless they think there is something to be gained in return; and that I knew perfectly well. I went there from curiosity, not avarice, offered one gold mohur, and received in return the customary sweetmeats and necklaces of flowers. Look at the poverty, the wretched poverty of these descendants of the emperors! In former times strings of pearls and valuable jewels were placed on the necks of departing visitors. When the Princess Hyat-ool-Nissa Begam in her fallen fortunes put the necklace of freshly-gathered white jasmine flowers over my head, I bowed with as much respect as if she had been the queen of the universe. Others may look upon these people with contempt, I cannot; look at what they are, at what they have been!
The indecision and effeminacy of the character of the emperor is often a subject of surprise. Why should it be so? where is the difference in intellect between a man and a woman brought up in a zenāna? There they both receive the same education, and the result is similar. In Europe men have so greatly the advantage of women from receiving a superior education, and in being made to act for, and depend upon themselves from childhood, that of course the superiority is on the male side; the women are kept under and have not fair play.
One day a gentleman, speaking to me of the extravagance of one of the young princes, mentioned he was always in debt, he could never live upon his allowance. The allowance of the prince was twelve rupees a month!—not more than the wages of a head servant.
With respect to my visit, I felt it hard to be judged by people who were ignorant of my being the friend of the relatives of those whom I visited in the zenāna. People who themselves had, perhaps, no curiosity respecting native life and manners, and who, even if they had the curiosity, might have been utterly unable to gratify it, unless by an introduction which they were probably unable to obtain.
It is a curious fact, that a native lady in a large house always selects the smallest room for her own apartment. A number of ladies from the palace at Delhi were staying in a distant house, to which place a friend having gone to visit them, found them all in the bathing-room, they having selected that as the smallest apartment in which they could crowd together.
I will here insert an extract from the Delhi Gazette of Jan. 13th, 1849.
“On Thursday morning, departed this life, Prince Dara Bukht, heir-apparent to the throne of Delhi, and with him, we have some reason to believe, all the right of the royal house to the succession, such having been guaranteed to him individually, and to no other member of the family. We sincerely trust that such is really the case, and that our Government will now be in a position to adopt steps for making efficient arrangements for the dispersion, with a suitable provision, of the family on the death of the present king. The remains of the deceased prince were interred near Cheeragh Delhi within a few hours of his death. It is a curious fact, that nearly all the native papers have long since omitted the designation of ‘Padshah’ when alluding to the King of Delhi, styling him merely ‘Shah.’”
It was too hot for me to venture round the walls of the palace, and I only paid a flying visit to the Dīwān-i-am, or Hall of Public Audience, and to the Dīwān-i-khāss, or Hall of Private Audience. The latter is built of white marble, beautifully ornamented, and the roof is supported on colonnades of marble pillars. In this hall the peacock throne stands in the centre; it is ascended by steps, and covered with a canopy, with four artificial peacocks at the four corners. Around the exterior of the Dīwān-i-khāss, in the cornice, is the well-known inscription, in letters of gold, upon a ground of white marble: “If there be a paradise on earth, it is this, it is this[26].” The terrace of this building is composed of large slabs of white marble, and the building is crowned at the top with four pavilions or cupolas of the same materials.
The palace is 3000 feet long, 1800 broad, and at one time would have held 10,000 horse: the building it is said cost about £1,000,000 sterling.
The royal baths, a little to the northward of the Dīwān-i-khāss, consist of three very large rooms, surmounted by domes of white marble: adjoining to the baths is a fine mosque.
In the royal gardens is a very large octagonal room, facing the Jumna, called Shah Burj, or the Royal Tower, which is lined with marble. Through the window of this room Prince Mirza Juwaun Bukht made his escape in 1784, when he fled to Lucnow. The Rohillas, who were introduced by Gholaum Cadir Khan, stripped many of the rooms of their marble ornaments and pavements.
It was my intention to have gone round the walls in the cool of the evening, with my relative, but I was so much disgusted with the ill-natured remarks I had heard, I would not enter the place again.
The gardens of Shalimar are worthy of a visit, from which the prospect to the south, towards Delhi, as far as the eye can reach, is covered with the remains of extensive gardens, pavilions, mosques, and burial-places. The environs of this once magnificent city appear now nothing more than a heap of ruins, and the country around is equally desolate and forlorn:—
“Within the city of New Delhi are the remains of many splendid palaces, belonging to the great omrahs of the empire; among the largest are those of Cummer-o’-deen Cawn, vizier to Mahmud Shah; Ali Merdan Khan, the Persian; the Nawab Gazooddeen Cawn; Seftur Jung’s; the garden of Coodseah Begam, mother of Mahmud Shah; the palace of Sadut Khan; and that of Sultan Darah Shekoah.”
“The baths of Sadut Khan are a set of beautiful rooms, paved, and lined with white marble; they consist of five distinct apartments, into which light is admitted by glazed windows at the top of the domes. Sefdur Jung’s Teh Khana consists of a set of apartments, built in a delicate style; one long room, in which is a marble reservoir the whole length, and a smaller one raised and balustraded on each side; both faced throughout with white marble. Adjoining the palace is the fort of Selīm, Selīm-garh; it communicates by a bridge of stone, built over an arm of the river, and is now entirely in ruins.
“The modern city of Shāhjahānabad is rebuilt, and contains many good houses, chiefly of brick; the streets are in general narrow, as is usual in most of the large cities of Asia; but there were formerly two very noble streets, the first leading to the palace gate, through the city, to the Delhi gate, in a direction north and south. This street was very broad and spacious, having handsome houses on each side of the way, and merchants’ shops, well furnished with a variety of the richest articles. Shāhjahān caused an aqueduct of red stone to be made, which conveyed the water the whole length of the street, and thence, by a reservoir underground, into the royal gardens. Remains of this aqueduct are still to be seen, but it is in most parts choked up with rubbish. The second grand street entered in the same manner from the palace to the Lahore gate; it lay east and west, and was equal in all respects to the former; but, in both of them, the inhabitants have spoiled the beauty of their appearance by running a line of houses down the centre; and, in other places, across the street; so that it is with difficulty a person can discover, without narrowly inspecting, their former position.”
“In the neighbourhood of the Cabul gate is a garden, called Tees Huzzari Bagh, in which is the tomb of the Queen Malika Zemani, wife of the Emperor Mahmud Shah. On a rising ground near this garden, whence there is a fine prospect of the city, are two broken columns of brown granite, eight feet high, and two and a half in breadth, on which are inscriptions in ancient characters.”
Near the Ajimere gate is a Madrasa, or college, erected by Gazooddeen Cawn, nephew of Nizam-ool-Mooluk; it is built of red stone, and situated in the centre of a spacious quadrangle, with a fountain, lined with stone. At the upper end of the area is a handsome mosque, built of red stone, and inlaid with white marble. This college is now uninhabited.
Modern Delhi has been built upon two rocky eminences; the one where the Jāma Masjid is situated, named Jujula Pahar; and the other called Bejula Pahar; from both of these you have a commanding view of the rest of the city.
24th.—We visited this noble masjid,—the finest I have seen; no difficulty was made in allowing us to inspect it. “The gate of the house of God is always open[27]:” not only literally, but also to converts.
“This mosque is situated about a quarter of a mile from the royal palace; the foundation of it was laid upon a rocky eminence, named Jujula Pahar, and has been scarped on purpose. The ascent to it is by a flight of stone steps, thirty-five in number, through a handsome gateway of red stone. The doors of this gateway are covered throughout with plates of wrought brass, which Mr. Bernier imagined to be copper. The terrace on which the mosque is situated is a square, of about fourteen hundred yards of red stone; in the centre is a fountain, lined with marble, for the purpose of performing the necessary ablutions previous to prayer.
“An arched colonnade of red stone surrounds the whole of the terrace, which is adorned with octagonal pavilions for sitting in. The mosque is of an oblong form, two hundred and sixty-one feet in length, surmounted by three magnificent domes of white marble, interspersed with black stripes, and flanked by two minarets of black marble and red stone alternately, rising to the height of an hundred and thirty feet. Each of these minarets has three projecting galleries of white marble, having their summits crowned with light octagonal pavilions of the same. The whole front of the building is faced with large slabs of beautiful white marble; and along the cornice are ten compartments, four feet long, and two and a half broad, which are inlaid with inscriptions in black marble, in the Nishki character; and are said to contain the greater part, if not the whole, of the Koran. The inside of the mosque is paved throughout, with large slabs of white marble, decorated with a black border, and is wonderfully beautiful and delicate; the slabs are about three feet in length, by one and a half broad. The walls and roof are lined with plain white marble; and near the kibla is a handsome taak, or niche, which is adorned with a profusion of frieze-work. Close to this is a mimbar or pulpit of marble, which has an ascent of four steps, balustraded. Kibla literally implies compass, but here means a small hollow or excavation in the walls of Muhammadan mosques, so situated on the erection of the buildings as always to look towards the city of Mecca.
“The ascent to the minarets is by a winding staircase of an hundred and thirty steps of red stone; and, at the top, the spectator is gratified by a noble view of the King’s Palace, the Cuttub Minar, the Hurran Minar, Humaioon’s Mausoleum, the Palace of Feroze Shah, the Fort of old Delhi, and the Fort of Loni, on the opposite bank of the river Jumna. The domes are crowned with cullises of copper, richly gilt; and present a glittering appearance from afar off. This mosque was begun by the Emperor Shāhjahān, in the fourth year of his reign, and completed in the tenth. The expenses of its erection amounted to ten lākh of rupees; and it is in every respect worthy of being the great cathedral of the empire of Hindūstan.”—Franklin.
Exclusive of the mosques before described, there are in Shāhjahānabad and its environs above forty others; most of them of inferior size and beauty, but all of them of a similar fashion. In the evening, we drove to the Turkoman gate of the city, to see the Kala Masjid or Black Mosque. We found our way with difficulty into the very worst part of Delhi: my companion had never been there before, and its character was unknown to us; he did not much like my going over the mosque, amid the wretches that surrounded us; but my curiosity carried the day. The appearance of the building from the entrance is most singular and extraordinary; it would form an excellent subject for a sketch. You ascend a flight of stone steps, and then enter the gateway of the masjid: the centre is a square; the pillars that support the arches are of rude construction,—stone placed upon stone, without mortar between; there are twelve or fifteen small domes on three sides of the square. I wished to sketch the place, but my relative hurried me away, fearful of insult from the people around. The masjid was built four hundred and fifty years ago, before the building of the modern Delhi. The tradition of the place is this:—
In former times the masjid was built of white stone. A father committed a horrible crime within its walls. The stones of the masjid turned from white to black. It obtained the name of the black mosque. No service was ever performed there, and the spot was regarded as unholy: none but the lowest of the people now frequent the place; and any stranger visiting it might as well take a barkindāz as a protection against insult. Hindoo Rāo, the brother of the Bāiza Bā’ī, lives near Delhi, in the house of the late Mr. Frazer; he came in his curricle to call on Captain S—: I saw him; he is a short, thick-set, fat Mahratta, very independent in speech and bearing. After some conversation, he arose to depart, shook hands with me, and said, “How do you do?” thinking he was bidding me “good night.” This being all the English he has acquired, he is very fond of displaying it. Some young officer, in a fit of tamāshā (i.e. fun) must have taught him his “How do you do.”
There is no guide-book to conduct a stranger over the city of Delhi, or to point out the position of its numerous gates; I have therefore added a plan of the city, which we found very useful when arranging our excursions, and I have made numerous extracts from Franklin to point out places worthy of a visit[28].
25th.—Quitted Delhi, and encamped the first march at Furrudnagar on our return to Meerut; it was too hot for tents.
26th.—Encamped at Begamabad: I was very unwell; the annoyance of thieves around my tent, and the greater plague of fever, kept me awake all night.
27th.—Was driven into Meerut the whole march, being unable to sit on my horse; called in medical aid, and was confined for six days to my charpāī, unable to rise from fever, influenza, and severe cough.
March 11th.—Just able to creep about. Captain A— drove me to see the tomb of Aboo, a very fine one near the prison at Meerut: its history I forget, and I was too ill to attempt to sketch it.
Thence we drove to the tomb of Pīr Shāh, near the gate of the city. It is in ruins; the verandah that once ornamented it has fallen to the ground. The tomb is peculiar, the dome has only been raised two feet and so finished: this has been so left purposely, that the sunshine and the dews of heaven may fall on the marble sarcophagus of the saint who sleeps within the building. Around the tomb are a number of the graves of the faithful. Perhaps the exertion of taking a drive made me ill again; and the relative with whom I was staying not admiring this return of fever, determined to take me instantly to the hills.