THE TOMB OF SHAIKH SELĪM CHEESTIE.
This beautiful mausoleum, in the centre of the quadrangle, is still in a state of the most perfect preservation; it is of white marble; the open work of the screen is of the most exquisite workmanship. The descendants of the shaikh still live at Sicri, and gain large sums by showing the tomb of the holy man, whose name is held in the highest veneration. The coffin, containing the mortal remains of the saint, is within the building, and is covered with a large pall of silk and brocade. When speaking of the Shaikh they continually denominated him Shāh Selīm Cheestie. The annexed sketch will give an idea of the outline of the tomb, and of the beauty of the fretwork of its walls of marble.
THE TOMB OF SHAIKH SELIM CHEESTIE.
فاني پارکس
In 1570, Akbar founded Fathīpoor Sicri, the City of Victory. Colonel Sleeman mentions, “The quadrangle which contains the mosque on the west side, and the tomb of the old hermit in the centre, was completed in the year 1578, six years before his death; and is, perhaps, one of the finest in the world. It is five hundred and seventy-five feet square, and surrounded by a high wall, with a magnificent cloister all around within. On the outside is a magnificent gateway, at the top of a noble flight of steps, twenty-four feet high. The whole gateway is one hundred and twenty feet in height, and the same in breadth, and presents beyond the wall five sides of an octagon, of which the front face is eighty feet wide: the arch in the centre of this space is sixty feet high by forty wide. On the right side of the entrance is engraven on stone, in large letters, standing out in bas relief, the following passage in Arabic: ‘Jesus, on whom be peace, has said, The world is merely a bridge; you are to pass over it, and not to build your dwellings upon it.’
“Where this saying of Christ is to be found, I know not, nor has any Muhammadan yet been able to tell me; but the quoting of such a passage in such a place is a proof of the absence of all bigotry on the part of Akbar.”
The mosque within the quadrangle was finished in 1576, and Akbar’s three sons were born in the houses of the saint.
A very intelligent person, by name Bisharut Ali, who acted as cicerone, was much pleased to show off the place, and relate his wonderful stories. Amongst other traditions, he told me that, “in former times, Fathīpoor Sicri was infested with wild beasts, and the people who came to see the saint marvelled he was not afraid to live in such a wilderness; the next day, they found a lion and a wolf at the holy man’s door; the lion walking up and down and keeping guard, and the wolf brushing away the dust and dirt before the habitation of the saint”—with his tail, I suppose, for they say nothing of a broom. This Bisharut Ali is a pensioner on three rupees eight ānās a month; his profile, and that of Mulka Begam’s, who is a descendant of Akbar’s, were so much alike, that I could not help asking him if he were of Selīm Cheestie’s family? He replied, “No; my ancestor was the teacher (oostād) of the saint!”
There is much to visit at this place: the mosque, the numerous tombs, and also a very curious building, in which the council of the nation was held.
The place that most interested my imagination was the Temple of Magic, in which Akbar used to study. How much the Emperor, who was greatly addicted to the art, must have been interested in casting the nativity of the sons of his pilgrimage, and in the important task of selecting fortunate names!
On the birth of the heir, the City of Victory must have resounded with the roar of cannon, in honour of the happy event; even the poorest Musulmān testifies his rejoicing on such an occasion by firing off a matchlock; but should the offspring be a girl, the cannon is silent, and no matchlocks are in requisition. There are five different modes of naming children, two of which are as follow:—
Sometimes the infant obtains the name of some one of the family, as that of the parent’s father, (it is not customary among Musulmāns to give their own names to their children,) the grandfather, great-grandfather, or the tutelary saint venerated in the family; hence the name of Selīm was given to the first-born of the Emperor.
“Amongst some people it is customary to choose a name from among those that begin with the same letter which is found at the commencement or termination of the name of the planet in whose hour the child is born. In order to ascertain this, it is requisite to consult the horoscope of nativity[141].” The planets, seven in number,—namely, the Sun, Venus, Mercury, the Moon, Saturn, Jupiter, and Mars, are supposed to preside over the twenty-four hours of the day and night, and to exert many favourable and unfavourable influences on the human race. With what anxiety must the great magician Akbar have consulted the horoscope, to ascertain under the reign of what particular planet his son was born! With what care he must have cast his nativity, and thereby predicted his future destiny!
The ladies of the zenāna were not only followers of the prophet, but Rajpūtnees were admitted, Akbar considering it good policy to marry the daughter of a subjugated Hindoo prince. Beauty, also, was and is sufficient to give the possessor a chance of gaining the rank of Begam. I went over the zenāna with much interest, and thought of the innumerable ceremonies that must have been observed within its walls.
Particular rites take place on the fortieth day after the birth of a child, which is esteemed an important festival; the mother is then allowed to touch the kurān, and enter the masjid. In fancy, I beheld the Jodh Bā’ī taken out into the air, with the “child of the pilgrimage” in her arms, that she might count a few stars; after which, according to Muhammadan custom, her attendants would shoot off two arrows into the air.
With what care the Emperor must have selected verses from the kurān, to engrave in the Arabic character upon tablets, called tawīzī; destined to adorn the person of the infant prince, and to guard him as a spell! These tablets, which are of gold or silver, are strung on a long cord of gold thread, and suspended over one shoulder of a child, crossing his body, and hanging down on the other side below the hip.
The pachīsī-board gives one a glimpse of the manner in which the great Akbar spent his time amongst his lady-loves; the pachīsī-board is in an open court of the zenāna; the squares of the board are formed of coloured marbles, and on so large a scale, that women were used as counters. Imagine the great Akbar playing at pachīsī with eight cowries, and sixteen ladies of the zenāna squatting down on the squares of the board as counters! Jīta rako Akbar!
The game is played with eight cowries, or with three long narrow dice, and so named from the highest throw, which is twenty-five. The shape of the board is a cross, covered with squares, alternately of a different colour. The natives have them made of red and purple cloth, which can be folded up, and easily carried about; they are passionately fond of this game, and play it at the Dewālī. The counters are sixteen in number, in sets of four, each set of a different colour.
Adjoining the temple of the magician is the anannās-i-ghur, built in the shape of a pine-apple (anannās), as the natives aver.
The taksāl (the mint) is at this place; in it rupees were first coined; unlike the circular rupees of the present day, those coined by Akbar are square; he also coined square gold mohurs, and eight ānā pieces of the same form. The square rupee, if without a blemish, is reckoned of great value; it is used in conjuring the truth out of thieves, who are much afraid of it, and often confess the truth from a belief in its virtue.
If a rich native can obtain one of Akbar’s rupees, or, what is better, an akbārābādee gold mohur, he puts it away with his hoard of riches, firmly believing that by its virtue robbers will be prevented from discovering his gold. There is an old saying, “To get possession of the wealth without disturbing the snake that guards it[142].” The square rupee appears to act chaukidār as well as the snake. An akbārābādee rupee and an eight ānā piece were procured at Sicri, and added to my museum. The mint has been dug up in every direction by treasure-hunters.
In the plate entitled “[Superstitions of the Natives],” No. 5 represents the rupee, and No. 4 the eight ānā piece; No. 7 is an akbārābādee gold mohur, which I purchased at Allahabad. The manner in which these coins are used for the detection of theft has been fully explained in the “Trial by Rice,” [page 40].
There is a remarkable entrance called the Elephant Gate, below which is the Elephant Minār, to which we walked by moonlight; on the top of this minār Akbar used to sit; game, of all descriptions, was driven towards it from the surrounding country, which the Emperor from that spot could shoot at his ease. “When death approaches the game, it goes towards the sportsman[143].” This tower is studded with elephants’ tusks, carved in white stone.
The people showed me the skin of a leopard that was shot a year ago amongst the ruins. I requested my companion during this ramble to take a stick, for fear of the wolves, who, the week before, had torn a native child to pieces under the walls; the bones and bangles of the poor child had been brought to my companion, who was the magistrate.
The tomb of the Jhod Bā’ī, who was a Rajpootnee daughter of the Hindoo chief of Jhodpore, by tradition beautiful and amiable, is still to be seen on the Chand-maree, the artillery practice ground, a few miles from Fathīpoor Sicri. It was in ruins, but still you could trace its form and dome. Some artillery officers, out of pure idleness and ignorance, I suppose, about a year ago, blew up the dome of this tomb by way of getting rid of some damaged powder! The sacrilege of destroying the tomb of the mother of Jahāngeer, and the wife of Akbar Shāh!
The whole of the buildings at Sicri were built by Akbar; at this place he resided, and held his court: it is most interesting to wander over the ruins.
In the “Rambles of an Indian Official” it is mentioned,—“Sheikh Saleem had, he declared, gone more than twenty times on pilgrimage to the tomb of the holy prophet; and was not much pleased to have his repose so much disturbed by all the noise and bustle of the imperial court. At last, Akbar wanted to surround the hill by regular fortifications; and the sheikh could stand it no longer. ‘Either you or I must leave this hill,’ said he to the Emperor; ‘if the efficacy of my prayers is no longer to be relied upon, let me depart in peace!’ ‘If it be your Majesty’s will,’ replied the Emperor, ‘that one of us should go, let it be your slave, I pray.’ The old story: there is nothing like relying upon the efficacy of our prayers, say the priests—nothing like relying upon that of our sharp swords, say the soldiers; and as nations advance from barbarism, they generally contrive to divide between them the surplus produce of the land and labour of society. The old hermit consented to remain, and pointed out Agra as a place which he thought would answer the Emperor’s purpose extremely well! Agra—then an unpeopled waste—soon became a city, and Futtehpore Sicri was deserted.”
The influenza having attacked our party, and my having fallen ill from being drenched in a severe storm, on my return to Agra, which increased the cough and cold from which I was suffering, prevented our prosecuting the tour we had planned for visiting Deeg, Burtpore, and other remarkable places.
Extract from “the Asiatic Journal” of Oct. 1844.
“SKETCHES OF REMARKABLE LIVING CHARACTERS IN INDIA.”
No. 1.—COLONEL GARDNER.—THE BEGAM SUMROO.
“A few years ago India presented a wide field for adventure: the distracted state of the country, the ambitious projects and conflicting interests of native princes, were highly favourable circumstances to those who brought with them a competent knowledge of the art of war, and of military discipline; and who preferred a wild, erratic, roving life, amongst the children of the soil, to the regular service of the India Company. There are two individuals still living in the Bengal Presidency, and occupying a distinguished, though singular position in society, whose eventful career, if circumstantially related, could not fail to prove highly interesting. The general outlines of the history of the Begam Sumroo, and of Colonel Gardner, of Khāsgunge, are known to every person who has visited the theatre of their exploits, but very few are acquainted with the details; for such is the shifting nature of Anglo-Indian society, that it is impossible to gain more than the passing information of the day, in places rendered memorable from circumstances of universal notoriety, but of which nobody can give the particulars.
“Some apology ought, perhaps, to be made for associating the name of so gallant and highly respected an officer as Colonel Gardner with that of the Begam, and her still more worthless husband; but as those readers of the ‘Asiatic Journal,’ who have not been in India, are puzzled by the announcement of marriages, or projected marriages, of the daughters of this gentleman with the nephews of the King of Delhi, an explanation of the circumstances which have produced these apparently extraordinary alliances will doubtless prove acceptable. The writer of these pages does not pretend to know more of Colonel Gardner than the tongue of rumour could tell, or a casual meeting in society could afford; but so remarkable a person naturally made a strong impression, and the anecdotes extant concerning him were too singular to be easily forgotten. Colonel Gardner’s tall, commanding figure, soldier-like countenance, and military air, render his appearance very striking. When at his own residence, and associating with natives, it is said that he adopts the Asiatic costume; but while visiting a large military station, in company with the Resident of Lucnow, he wore a blue surtout, resembling the undress uniform of the British army, but profusely ornamented with silk lace.
“Colonel Gardner, who is a connexion of the noble family bearing that name, came out to India in the King’s service, which he soon afterwards quitted; the cause of his resignation is variously related; in the absence of an authentic account, it would, perhaps, be wrong to give sanction to any one of the reports afloat concerning it. At this period, it was impossible to foresee that the tide of fortune would bring the British Government of India into actual warfare with the sovereigns of provinces so far beyond the frontier, that human ambition dared not contemplate their subjugation. Many loyal men were, therefore, induced to follow the banners of native princes, under the expectation that they never could be called upon to bear arms against their own country; but fate decreed it otherwise, and, in the Mahratta war, those officers who had enlisted in Holkar’s service, found themselves in a very awkward predicament; especially, as they were not permitted a choice, or even allowed to remain neutral, their new masters endeavouring to force them, upon pain of death, to commit treason to the land of their birth by fighting in the ranks of a hostile force.
“In some of the native courts, the English were immediately put to death upon the approach of the enemy, or on the slightest suspicion of their fidelity. Upon more than one occasion, Colonel Gardner, who, independent of his military skill, possessed a thorough knowledge of the native character, and very considerable talent, penetrated the designs of his employers, and withdrew in time from meditated treachery; but his escape from Holkar was of the most hazardous description, not inferior in picturesque incident and personal jeopardy to that of the renowned Dugald Dalgetty, who was not more successful in all lawful strategy than the subject of this too brief memoir. Anxious to secure the services of so efficient an officer, after all fair means had failed, Holkar tied his prisoner to a gun, and threatened him with immediate destruction, should he persist in refusing to take the field with his army. The Colonel remained staunch, and, perhaps in the hope of tiring him out, the execution was suspended, and he was placed under a guard, who had orders never to quit him for a single instant. Walking one day along the edge of a bank, leading by a precipitous descent to a river, Colonel Gardner suddenly determined to make a bold effort to escape, and perceiving a place fitted to his purpose, he shouted out ‘Bismillah!’ (‘in the name of God,’) and flung himself down an abyss some forty or fifty feet deep. None were inclined to follow him; but the guns were fired and an alarm sounded in the town. He recovered his feet, and, making for the river, plunged into it. After swimming for some distance, finding that his pursuers gained upon him, he took shelter in a friendly covert, and, with merely his mouth above the water, waited until they had passed; he then landed on the opposite side, and proceeded by unfrequented paths to a town in the neighbourhood, which was under the command of a friend, who, though a native, and a servant of Holkar, he thought would afford him protection. This man proved trustworthy; and, after remaining concealed some time, the Colonel ventured out in the disguise of a grass-cutter, and reaching the British outposts in safety, was joyously received by his countrymen. He was appointed to the command of a regiment of irregular horse, which he still retains; and his services in the field, at the head of these brave soldiers, have not been more advantageous to the British Government than the accurate acquaintance before-mentioned, which his long and intimate association with natives enabled him to obtain of the Asiatic character. It was to his diplomatic skill and knowledge of the best methods of treaty, that we owed the capitulation of one of those formidable hill-fortresses (Komalmair in Mewar), whose reduction by arms would have been at the expense of an immense sacrifice of human life. The Commandant of the division despatched to take possession of it, wearied out by the procrastinating and indecisive spirit of the natives, would have stormed the place at every disadvantage, had not Colonel Gardner persuaded him to entrust the negotiation to his hands. The result proved that he made a just estimate of his own powers: the garrison agreed to give up the Fortress on the payment of their arrears; and Colonel Tod, in his ‘Annals of Rajast’han,’ mentions the circumstance as one highly honourable to the British character, that, there not being more than four thousand rupees at the time in the English camp, an order, written by the Commandant for the remainder, upon the shroffs or bankers in the neighbourhood, was taken without the least hesitation, the natives not having the slightest doubt that it would be paid upon presentation.
“The marriage of Colonel Gardner forms one of the most singular incidents in his romantic story.
“In the midst of his hazardous career, he carried off a Mahomedān princess, the sister of one of the lesser potentates of the Deccan, who, though now reduced to comparative insignificance, during the rise and progress of the Mahrattas, were personages of considerable consequence.
‘Ever the first to climb a tower,
As venturous in a lady’s bower,’
the sacred recesses of the zenāna were penetrated by the enterprising lover, who, at the moment in which his life was threatened by the brother’s treachery, bore away his prize in triumph, and sought an asylum in another court. A European, of popular manners and military experience, could in those days easily place himself at the head of a formidable body of soldiers, ready to follow his fortunes, and trusting to his arrangements with the princes, whose cause he supported, for their pay, which was frequently in arrear, or dependent upon the capture of some rich province. In the command of such a troop Colonel Gardner was a welcome guest wherever he went; and, until the affair with Holkar, he had always contrived to secure his retreat whenever it was prudent to commence a new career in another quarter.
“It is difficult to say what sort of bridal contract is gone through between a Moslem beauty and a Christian gentleman, but the ceremony is supposed to be binding; at least it is considered so in India, a native female not losing the respect of her associates by forming such a connexion. The marriage of Colonel Gardner seems perfectly satisfactory to the people of Hindostān; for the lady has not only continued stedfast to the Mahomedan faith, and in the strict observance of all the restrictions prescribed to Asiatic females of rank, but has brought up her daughters in the same religious persuasion, and in the same profound seclusion,—points seldom conceded by a European father. They are, therefore, eligible to match with the princes of the land, their mother’s family connexions and high descent atoning for the disadvantage of foreign ancestry upon the paternal side. Educated according to the most approved fashion of an Oriental court, they are destined to spend the remainder of their lives in the zenāna; and this choice for her daughters shows, that their mother, at least, does not consider exclusion from the world, in which European women reign and revel, to be any hardship.
“So little of the spirit of adventure is now stirring in India, that the Misses Gardner, or the young begams, or whatsoever appellation it may be most proper to designate them by, have not attracted the attention of the European community. Doubtless, their beauty and accomplishments are blazoned in native society; but, excepting upon the occasion of an announcement like that referred to in the Calcutta periodicals, the existence of these ladies is scarcely known to their father’s countrymen residing in India. We are ignorant whether their complexions partake most of the eastern or the northern hue, or whether they have the slightest idea of the privileges, from which their mother’s adherence to Mahomedan usages has debarred them. Their situation, singular as it may appear in England, excites little or no interest; nobody seems to lament that they were not brought up in the Christian religion, or permitted those advantages which the half-caste offspring of women of lower rank enjoy: and, acquainted with the circumstances of the case, the Editors of the aforesaid periodicals do not enter into any explanation of intelligence of the most startling nature to English readers, who, in their ignorance of facts, are apt to fancy that European ladies in India are willing to enter into the zenānas of native princes.
“Colonel Gardner has, of course, adopted many of the opinions and ideas of the people with whom he has passed so great a portion of his time, and in his mode of living he may be termed half an Asiatic; this, however, does not prevent him from being a most acceptable companion to the European residents, who take the greatest delight in his society whenever he appears among them. His autobiography would be a work of the highest value, affording a picture of Indian manners and Indian policy, with which few besides himself have ever had an opportunity of becoming so intimately acquainted. As he is still in the prime and vigour of existence, we may hope that some such employment of these piping times of peace may be suggested to him, and that he may be induced to devote the hours spent in retirement at Khāsgunge, to the writing or the dictation of the incidents of his early life. In looking back upon past events, the Colonel occasionally expresses a regret that he should have been induced to quit the king’s service, in which, in all probability, he would have attained the highest rank; but, eminently qualified for the situation in which he has been placed, and more than reconciled to the destiny which binds him to a foreign soil, the station he occupies leaves him little to desire; and he has it in his power to be still farther useful to society by unlocking the stores of a mind fraught with information of the highest interest.”
1835, March 5th.—Two letters having appeared in the “Mofussul Akhbar,” a provincial paper, Colonel Gardner published this answer:—
“To the Editor of the Mofussul Akhbar.
“Dear Sir,—In your paper of the 28th ultimo, just received, I find I have been unwillingly dragged from my obscurity by the author of ‘Sketches of Living Remarkable Characters in India.’ This I should not have noticed, but for a mistake or two that it is my duty to correct. In the first place, it was Colonel Casement who ordered me, and instructed me in his name, to attempt the negotiation for the surrender of the garrison of Komalmair. I obeyed his order successfully, only demurring at the sum demanded, 30,000 rupees, which, for so weak a garrison, I considered extravagant: but the resident Colonel Tod arrived at this stage of the business with superior diplomatic power. Colonel Casement was no longer consulted, and my poor rushlight was hidden under a bushel. But who can feel any thing against the author of such a splendid and correct work as ‘Rajustan?’ The writer of the extract has probably mistaken Komalmair for the Fort of Rampoora,—where, under the instructions of Colonel Vauzemen, the negotiation for the evacuation was entirely entrusted to me; and, for the sum of 7000 rupees, a siege was prevented at a very advanced season of the year, when, as General Ouchterlony wrote to me, he would otherwise have been obliged to order the battering-train from Agra.
“When I made my escape, as detailed, by swimming the Taptee, it was from the tender mercies of the gentle Brahman, our late pensioner Emurt Row’s force, by whom I was then in close confinement, and not from Holkar.
“I fear I must divest my marriage with her highness the Begam of a great part of its romantic attraction, by confessing that the young Begam was only thirteen years of age when I first applied for and received her mother’s consent; and which marriage probably saved both their lives. Allow me to assure you, on the very best authority, that a Moslem lady’s marriage with a Christian, by a Cazee, is as legal in this country as if the ceremony had been performed by the Bishop of Calcutta; a point lately settled by my son’s marriage with the niece of the Emperor, the Nuwab Mulka Humanee Begam; and that the respectability of the females of my family amongst the natives of Hindostān has been settled by the Emperor many years ago, he having adopted my wife as his daughter; a ceremony satisfactorily repeated by the Queen, on a visit to my own house in Delhi. I can assure my partial sketcher, that my only daughter died in 1804, and that my grand-daughters, by the particular desire of their grandmother, are Christians. It was an act of her own, as by the marriage agreement, the daughters were to be brought up in the religion of the mother; the sons in that of your
“Very obedient, humble servant,
“W. L. G⸺.”
“Khasgunge, 5th March, 1835.”
Colonel Tod, in a letter to the editor of “the Asiatic Journal,” thus speaks of Colonel Gardner:—“A day or two previous to this number (of your journal) being lent me, an intimate friend of Colonel Gardner’s spent the evening with me; and as it is almost impossible that any two men, at all acquainted with his diversified life, could talk of him without expressing a wish that he would become his own biographer,—the subject being started, we mutually agreed, that, qualified in every way as he is for the task, the result would be both interesting and instructive. Amongst other remarks, I observed that, although he was well known to me by character, and I had to bear testimony to the brave conduct of a part of his corps, attached to me in 1817; the only time I ever had the pleasure of seeing him was the day following the surrender of Komulmér, when he dined with me.
“I trust your correspondent will proceed with ‘the sketches,’ and that the outline he has now furnished of Colonel Gardner’s history may stimulate the original to give, what no other can, his biography in full. Colonel Gardner is one of the many remarkable men, who have passed a most extraordinary life, floating, as circumstance or ‘nuseeb’ propelled, amidst the chaotic elements of Indian society, during the half-century preceding the halcyon days of 1818; when, by the vigorous mind and measures of the Marquess of Hastings, peace, for the first time in its history, reigned from the Himalaya to Cape Comorin. Aristides was banished Athens!”
I greatly wished Colonel Gardner would consent to tell me the history of his remarkable life, which I was anxious to write down from his dictation. One evening he said, “Merā Betee, (my child) when in Holkar’s service, I was employed as an envoy to the Company’s forces, under Lord Lake, with instructions to return within a certain time; my family remained in camp. Suspicion of treachery was caused by my lengthened absence, and accusations were brought forward against me at the Darbār, held by Holkar on the third day following that on which my presence was expected. I rejoined the camp while the darbār was still assembled; on my entrance, the Mahārāj, in an angry tone, demanded the reason of the delay; which I gave, pointing out the impossibility of a speedier return. Holkar exclaimed, in great anger, ‘Had you not returned this day, I would have levelled the khanats of your tents.’ I drew my sword instantly, and attempted to cut his highness down, but was prevented by those around him; and ere they had recovered from the amazement and confusion caused by the attempt, I rushed from the tent, sprang upon my horse, and was soon beyond reach of the pursuers.”
To account for Colonel Gardner’s indignation, it must be remembered, that the kanāts are walls of canvas, that surround the tents of the ladies of the zenāna; to have thrown down those screens, and to have exposed women within parda to the gaze of men, would have been an insult for which there could be no atonement. Colonel Gardner’s high spirit was as prompt to avenge the threat as it would have been willing to take the life of Holkar, had he intruded on the privacy of the Begam’s apartments.
Through the influence of friends, the Princess and her family were allowed, unmolested, to quit Holkar’s dominions, and rejoin her husband.
The account Colonel Gardner gave me of his marriage with the Begam was this:—
“When a young man, I was entrusted to negotiate a treaty with one of the native princes of Cambay. Darbārs and consultations were continually held; during one of the former, at which I was present, a parda (native curtain) near me was gently moved aside, and I saw, as I thought, the most beautiful black eyes in the world. It was impossible to think of the treaty; those bright and piercing glances, those beautiful dark eyes, completely bewildered me.
“I felt flattered that a creature so lovely as she of those deep black, loving eyes must be, should venture to gaze upon me; to what danger might not the veiled beauty be exposed, should the movement of the parda be seen by any of those at the darbār! On quitting the assembly I discovered that the bright-eyed beauty was the daughter of the Prince. At the next darbār, my agitation and anxiety were extreme again to behold the bright eyes that had haunted my dreams by night, and my thoughts by day! The parda again was gently moved, and my fate was decided.
“I demanded the Princess in marriage; her relations were at first indignant, and positively refused my proposal; however, on mature deliberation, the ambassador was considered too influential a person to have a request denied, and the hand of the young Princess was promised. The preparations for the marriage were carried forward; ‘Remember,’ said I, ‘it will be useless to attempt to deceive me; I shall know those eyes again, nor will I marry any other.’
“On the day of the marriage I raised the veil from the countenance of the bride, and in the mirror that was placed between us beheld the bright eyes that had bewildered me; I smiled,—the young Begam smiled also.”
Such was Colonel Gardner’s account of the first time he beheld his bride. Well might she smile when she gazed upon that noble countenance!