THE SNAKE-CHARMERS.
6th.—Some of these people came down to the river-side, and displayed their snakes before the budgerow; they had two boa constrictors, one of which was of enormous size; the owner twined it about his neck after the fashion in which a lady wears her sable boa; the other, which was on the ground, glided onwards, and the man pulled it back, as it appeared to be inclined to escape into the water. They had a number of the cobra di capello, twenty or more, which, being placed on the ground, reared themselves up, and, spreading out their hoods, swayed themselves about in a fashion which the men called dancing, accompanied by the noise of a little hand-drum. The snake-charmers struck the reptiles with their hands, and the snakes bit them repeatedly on their hands, as well as on their arms, bringing the blood at each bite; although the venomous fangs have been carefully removed, the bite itself must be disagreeable; nevertheless, the natives appear not to mind it in the least. There was no trick in the case; I saw a cobra bite his keeper five or six times on his hand and arm, the man was irritating it on purpose, and only desisted when he found I was satisfied that there was no deception. At the conclusion of the exhibition they caught the cobras, and crammed them all into gharās (earthen vessels); the boas were carried off in a basket.
In the evening I walked to a dhrumsāla or alms-house on the bank of the river, a little above Rāj ghāt; it is situated on the top of a high flight of steps, and is very picturesque. On the steps of the stone ghāt below is a gigantic image of Hunoomān, made of mud, and painted according to the most approved fashion. The natives were very civil, showing me the way to different places, and yet the Benares people have a bud nām (bad name) in that respect, being reckoned uncivil to strangers.
On the steps of the ghāt I met a very savage Brahmanī bull; the beast was snorting and attacking the people,—he ran at me, but some men drove him off; there were numbers of them in the bazār, but this was the only savage one I encountered; the rest were going quietly from gram-stall to gram-stall, apparently eating as much as they pleased. The merchants would be afraid to drive the holy bulls away with violence.
7th.—Quitted Rāj ghāt early, and tracked slowly past Benares, stopping every now and then to take a sketch of those beautiful ghāts. The minārs rear their slender forms over the city, and it is not until you attempt to sketch them that their height is so apparent, and then you gaze in astonishment at them, marvelling at the skill that has reared structures of such height and elegance, and at the honesty of the workmen, who have given such permanent cement to the stones.
A little farther on is a cluster of Hindū temples of extreme beauty and most elaborate workmanship, with a fine ghāt close to them; one of these temples has been undermined by the river, and has fallen—but not to the ground; it still hangs over the stream,—a most curious sight. How many temples the Ganges has engulphed I know not; some six or seven are now either deeply sunk in, or close to the water, and the next rains will probably swell the river, and undermine two or three more. A fine ghāt at the side of these has fallen in likewise.
Above this cluster of falling temples is a very beautiful ghāt, built of white stone,—I know not its name; but I sketched it from the boats. It is still uninjured by time, and is remarkable for the beauty of its turrets, over the lower part of which a palm-tree throws its graceful branches in the most picturesque manner. On the top of a small ghāt, just higher than the river, at the bottom of a long flight of steps, two natives were sitting, shaded from the sun by a large chatr; groups of people in the water were bathing and performing their devotions,—many were passing up and down the flight of stone steps,—whilst others, from the arched gallery above, were hanging garments of various and brilliant colours to dry in the sun. On the outside of some of the openings in the bastions straw mats were fixed to screen off the heat.
Just above this fine structure, on a small ghāt, a little beyond the minarets, is a gigantic figure in black stone of Bhīm Singh, a deified giant, of whom it is recorded that he built the fortress of Chunar in one day, and rendered it impregnable. The giant is represented lying at full length on his back, his head, adorned with a sort of crown, is supported on raised masonry; at his right side is erected a small altar of mud, of conical form, bearing on its top a tulsī plant; the natives water these plants, and take the greatest care of them. The tulsī had formerly the same estimation amongst the Hindūs, that the misletoe had amongst the ancient Britons, and was always worn in battle as a charm; on which account a warrior would bind a mala of tulsī beads on his person. The scene was particularly picturesque; below the ghāt, on which reposed the gigantic hero, were some native boats; and near them was a man dipping a piece of cloth embroidered in crimson and gold into the water; while, with a brilliant light and shade, the whole was reflected in the Ganges.
A little distance beyond I observed a number of small ghāts rising from the river, on each of which a similar conical tulsī altar was erected, and generally, at the side of each, the flag of a fakīr was displayed from the end of a long thin bamboo. A man who appeared to be a mendicant fakīr, came down to the river-side, carrying in one hand a long pole, and in the other one joint of a thick bamboo, which formed a vessel for holding water, and from this he poured some of the holy stream of the Ganges on the little shrub goddess the tulsī.
In the midst of hundreds and hundreds of temples and ghāts, piled one above another on the high cliff, or rising out of the Ganges, the mind is perfectly bewildered; it turns from beauty to beauty, anxious to preserve the memory of each, and the amateur throws down the pencil in despair. Each ghāt is a study; the intricate architecture, the elaborate workmanship, the elegance and lightness of form,—an artist could not select a finer subject for a picture than one of these ghāts. How soon Benares, or rather the glory of Benares—its picturesque beauty—will be no more! Since I passed down the river in 1836 many temples and ghāts have sunk, undermined by the rapid stream.
The Bāiza Bā’ī’s beautiful ghāt has fallen into the river,—perhaps from its having been undermined, perhaps from bad cement having been used. Her Highness spared no expense; probably the masons were dishonest, and that fine structure, which cost her fifteen lākh to rear a little above the river, is now a complete ruin.
The ghāt of Appa Sāhib is still in beauty, and a very curious one at the further end of Benares, dedicated to Mahadēo, is still uninjured; a number of images of bulls carved in stone are on the parapet of the temple, and forms of Mahadēo are beneath, at the foot of the bastions.
We loitered in the budgerow for above six hours amongst the ghāts, which stretch, I should imagine, about three miles along the left bank of the Ganges.
At the side of one of the ghāts on the edge of the river sat a woman weeping and lamenting very loudly over the pile of wood within which the corpse of some relative had been laid; the friends were near, and the pile ready to be fired. I met a corpse yesterday in the city, borne on a flat board; the body and the face were covered closely with bright rose-coloured muslin, which was drawn so tightly over the face that its form and features were distinct; and on the face was sprinkled red powder and silver dust; perhaps the dust was the pounded talc, which looks like silver.
How soon the young Hindūs begin to comprehend idolatry! A group of children from four to seven years old were at play; they had formed with mud on the ground an image of Hunoomān, after the fashion of those they had seen on the river-side; and they had made imitations of the sweetmeat (pera) in balls of mud, to offer to their puny idol.
I was at Benares eight years ago (in November, 1836); the river since that time has undermined the ghāts, and has done so much damage, that, in another ten years, if the Ganges encroach at an equal rate, but little will remain of the glory of the most holy of the Hindū cities. The force of the stream now sets full upon the most beautiful cluster of the temples on its banks; some have been engulphed, some are falling, and all will fall ere long; and of the Bāiza Bā’ī’s ghāt, which was so beautiful when last I visited the place, nothing now remains but the ruins! Her Highness objected greatly to the desire of the Government, to force her to live in this holy city: poor lady! her destiny exemplifies the following saying—“He who was hurt by the bel (its large fruit falling on his head) went for refuge to the bābūl, (the prickles of which wounded his feet,) and he that was hurt by the bābūl fled to the bel[50].”
The Rajah of Sattara resides a state prisoner at Bunarus.
A buggy is to be hired at Secrole for four rupees eight ānās a day, which is preferable to a palanquin: in visiting the city the better way is to quit your buggy, and proceed in a tānjān, if you wish to see the curious and ancient buildings to advantage.
I am so much fagged with the excitement of the day, gazing and gazing again, that I can write no more, and will finish this account with an extract from the “Directory.” “Benares on the left bank is considered as the most holy city in India, and is certainly one of the most handsome when viewed at a distance on the river, there being such numerous stone ghāts and temples, some of which cost seventeen lākh of rupees. It is the residence of some native princes, pensioners of the Hon. East India Company, but their dwellings are divided into so many little chambers or pigeon-holes, that the internal part of the city has the appearance of a mass of mean buildings, piled up without any regard to order and appearance, and narrow filthy lanes instead of streets.
“There is a large enclosed mart, called a chauk, which opens at 5 P.M., where trinkets, toys, birds, cloth, and coarse hardware are exposed for sale. It has a large well in it, and is also a resort for native auctions. Close to the chauk is the principal alley or mart for gulbadan, a very fine silk of various patterns worn by natives as trowsers; also fine caps with tinselled crowns, and very elegant gold and silver embroidery; also scarfs and turbans, and pieces for fancy head-dresses. There is likewise a traveller’s chauk, or native inn, and a large horse mart, where very fine horses, of the Turkī, Persian, and Cabul breeds are procurable,—as high as eight, ten, or fifteen thousand rupees,—that are brought here by the fruit-carriers, who bring grapes and pears from those countries. Here are several miniature painters, and also venders of miniatures on ivory, said to be likenesses of different native princes, their queens, and nāch girls; and also true likenesses of native servants in costume, tradesmen, and beggars. Delhi jewellery of the best gold is brought on board the steamers by sending for the dealers. Here is also an old observatory, and two very high and slender minarets, one of which has a slight inclination; travellers ascending them are expected to give to the keeper the fee of a rupee. From their tops is a fine view of the city, the adjacent country, and the river,—so gratifying a sight should not be passed over by any traveller. Provisions are procurable; partridges, quail, and wild ducks of all sorts, are to be obtained. Steamers remain at Rāj ghāt to take in passengers, to discharge and take in packages, and to receive coals. The civil and military station is about four miles inland, direct from Rāj ghāt, where reside the commissioner, the judge, the magistrates, the collectors, the general, and all the officers of the native regiments quartered here, and some European artillery.
“Letters must be sent for to the post-office, as they are not forwarded, which is very inconvenient. The city is about two miles long: the natives are very uncivil to strangers. Numerous fanatics are here, who drown themselves, believing that the holy Ganga and the city of the most holy secures them eternal happiness. Benares is from Calcutta, viâ Bhagirathī, 696 miles; viâ Sunderbands, 984; and by land or dāk, 428. Letters take four days, banjhīs seven days. Palanquins are procurable here, but they are infested with vile vermin.”
So much for the “Directory,” from which I differ. So far from the distant view of the city giving you the best idea of it,—it is not until you are in the midst of and close to the various and beautiful ghāts and temples just beyond the minārs that you can have an idea of the beauty of Benares. The best conveyance in which to visit and sketch the ghāts is a small boat with an awning.
We passed the residence of the Raja of Benares at Ramnagar, one mile and a half above the city; it is a handsome native palace.
8th.—Passed Chhotā Kalkata, or Sultanpūr-Benares: it is a native cavalry station, seventeen miles above Benares on the left bank of the river. Steamers bring to here occasionally, for a few minutes, to land passengers. It has a kankarī or rocky point, that is very awkward for native boats,—as also for steamers, owing to a narrow channel and strong currents; the point is off the cavalry stables, which are called Little Calcutta.
On our arrival at Chunar we moored the boats at the request of the sarhang, as the dandīs wished to go on shore to buy and sell in the bazār; they carry on a regular traffic at all the stations up the river, and gain a heavy profit on their Calcutta lanterns, pankhas, bundles of cane, cheeses, pickles, and a variety of articles. Chunar is famous for its tobacco, and the men were anxious to lay in a stock for sale at other places.
At a short distance from the landing-place, and to the left of it, is a fine peepul-tree (Ficus religiosa), at the foot of which are a number of idols in stone, placed in an erect position, supported by the trunk. A native woman placed some flowers upon the idols, and poured Ganges water over them from an earthen vessel (a gharā), which she carried on her head. Another was performing a religious and superstitious ceremony, called pradakshina,—that is, she was walking a certain number of times round and round the peepul-tree, with the right hand towards it, as a token of respect, with appropriate abstraction and prayers, in the hope of beautiful offspring. For this reason, also, the Ficus indica is subject to circumambulation. The same ceremony is mentioned in the “Chronicles of the Canongate:” the old sibyl, Muhme, says to Robin Oig, “So let me walk the deasil round you, that you may go safe into the far foreign land, and come safe home.” “She traced around him, with wavering steps, the propitiation, which some have thought has been derived from the Druidical mythology. It consists, as is well known, in the person who makes the deasil walking three times round the person who is the object of the ceremony, taking care to move according to the course of the sun.” Near the peepul-tree was an Hindū temple built of stone, but most excessively disfigured by having been painted red; and next to it was a smaller one of white stone. The whole formed a most picturesque subject for the pencil. Thence I proceeded to the Fort of Chunar, and walked on the ramparts: the little churchyard below was as tranquil as ever, but the tombs having become dark and old, the beauty of the scene was greatly diminished. The Ganges is undermining even the rock on which the fortress is built. The birds’-nests, formed of mud, built under the projections of the black rock on which it stands, are curious; and on some parts of the rock, just above the river, small Hindū images are carved. The “Directory” gives the following account of the place:—“On the right bank, about four miles above Sultanpūr, is Chunar, an invalid station, with a fortification, on an isolated rocky hill, which projects into the river, forming a very nasty point to pass in the rains. It completely commands the river, and is used as a place of confinement for state prisoners. There are several detached rocky hills or stone quarries here. It is a very sickly place, owing to the heat arising from the stone, which causes fever and disease of the spleen. This is a great place for snakes. A little above the fort is a temple: tradition states it to contain a chest, which cannot be opened unless the party opening it lose his hand,—four thieves having so suffered once in an attempt upon it. Very fine black and red earthenware may be purchased here,—such as wine coolers, which, being filled with water after the bottle is inserted, and set out in the draft of the hot easterly winds (none other serves the purpose), in the shade, cools the confined liquor as much as iceing it: the cooler must be dried daily. Also, red sandy water-holders or suries, which keep water very cool; black butter pots, with a casing for water, very neatly finished; and large black double urns, to contain bread, and keep it moist. Steamers seldom stop here more than ten minutes.”
The Padshah Begam, the Queen of Ghazee-ood-Deen Hydur, and Moona Jāh, are in this fortress state prisoners.
Moored our vessels off Turnbull Gunge. Of all the native villages I have seen this is the most healthy-looking; it consists of one very long broad road or street, with houses on each side, built after the native fashion, but on a regular plan; and on each side the road a line of fine trees shade the people as they sit selling their goods in the verandahs of their houses.
The Gunge was built by a Mr. Turnbull, a medical man, who made a large fortune in India when medical men were allowed to trade; the place bears his name, and is situated about two miles higher up the river than Chunar.
9th.—A little beyond Turnbull Gunge is a white mandāp (temple), on the right bank; the top of the spire has been broken off, and it stands by a fine peepul-tree. Just in front of it a bank of hard red mud runs out into the river; the budgerow ran upon it with such violence that many things in the cabin were upset; after this little fright we proceeded very well. The dandīs were particularly miserable on account of the rain; almost every man had clothed himself in a red jacket; for these cast-off military jackets they had given a rupee apiece; they were very proud of them, and afraid of getting them wetted. They wore below the usual native dhotī—i.e. a piece of linen, in lieu of trowsers, above which the European red coat had a curious effect. Anchored on a very fine sandbank in the midst of the river; here we found a chaukidār under a straw thatch, ready for vessels.
10th.—“Seven miles above Chunar, on the right bank, is the village of Kutnac, with rocky bottom and hard lumps of earth in the river; a little above is a ravine, which is to be avoided by all boats.”
“Fourteen miles above Chunar is the crossing ferry of the Benares grand road, and of Kitwa and Bhundoolee to Mirzapūr; thence to the latter place is a fine road, distance seven miles and a half by land, and sixteen by water.
“Ten miles above the ferry, and seven below Mirzapūr, on the left bank, is Bhajoan, with a white tomb and a patch of kankar in the river, on which many boats are lost: hence the cantonments of Mirzapūr are visible.
“Mirzapūr, a military cantonment, is two miles below the city and the civil station: the judge’s, the magistrates’, and the collector’s offices are one mile below the city. The steamer stops at the agency ghāt at the lower end of the city. This place is noted for a cotton mart and cotton manufactory; as likewise for shell lac, lac dye, and hardware in a small way. Many boats are here at all seasons. The city is very confined, dirty, and subject to great sickness: there are two or three very fine stone ghāts here, and some small temples and minarets: bread, butter, eggs, mutton, lamb, kid, veal, and fowls, are procurable. Mirzapūr is from Calcutta, viâ Bhagirathī, 748 miles; viâ Sunderbands, 1036 miles; and by dāk route, 455. The dāk takes five days, and banjhī eight days to run. Steamers having plenty of cargo to land are generally detained here four or five hours.”
The river has given us some trouble to-day, and we have grounded many times. The white houses of the Mirzapūr cantonments stretch along the right bank on a very high cliff; the church, a very elegant building, was planned by Colonel Edward Smith,—the spire rises just above the ghāt of the civil station. The manjhī of our vessel wished to anchor there, but we pushed on to the city, and lugāoed on the other side the river, close to a fine house, the residence of the Raja of Ramnager. We did not like to anchor at the stone ghāt of the city, on account of the noise, smoke, and heat produced by a crowd of native boats: this will be pleasant: I can be up top dāghī (gun-fire) to-morrow morning, and sketch the ghāts. In the mean time the sandbank by which we are moored is cool, pleasant, and quiet. Now for English letters!
11th.—We found we ought to have stopped at the ghāt off Cantonments, as there bread, butter, meat, &c., could be procured; but what cared I for such creature comforts when I saw the ghāts in the early morning? We crossed the river, and I went out to sketch them. There are two fine ones, built of stone, that lie close together, and a number of temples are upon them,—placed at intervals upon the cliff, from the river to the top of the high bank, and very beautiful they are.
The first sketch comprehended the ghāts that rise out of the river; on their steps of stone, multitudes of people, in the gay attire of the East, were ascending and descending for pūja and bathing, and to bring water up for domestic purposes; the scene was particularly animated. On the steps of the ghāt was a large awning, formed of mats, and supported by bamboos, under which the natives were sitting and conversing, while it screened them from the sun. Upon the river-side were several square platforms erected on four bamboos, with great stones beneath to support them; and on the top of the poles were large jhāmps—that is, mats of straw, which protected the people sitting inside from the rays of the sun; these platforms were used as booths, and in them sweetmeats were displayed for sale. Half-way up the cliff were three small temples, with fine trees in the background, in front of which stretched the high bank along the side of the Ganges.
The second sketch of the same ghāt was taken half-way up the cliff; on the right are the three small temples above alluded to, which form part of a group of singular beauty and varied form. A large shiwala or temple dedicated to Mahadēo is next to them, and a smaller, separated only by an archway, adjoins it; on the portico of the latter a fakīr’s staff and flag were erected. The branches of fine trees were in the background, the cliffs were abrupt, and the vessels on the Ganges were in the distance. In front of the doorway of the larger temple the holy bull, (the vehicle of Mahadēo,) was couchant on a small ghāt erected for the purpose.
The third sketch was taken from the top of the cliff looking up the river: it consists of a large shiwala or temple of Mahadēo, with a second in front which forms a portico, beneath which Nandi the holy bull reposes couchant; to the side is the spire of a temple that rises from below. The Ganges adds to the beauty of the scene, and some branches of large trees in the background adorn the temple. No mandāp have I ever seen so elaborately carved or so beautiful; from the basement to the pinnacle it is a mass of intricate sculpture, united with great elegance of design. It is covered with images of the gods, carved in stone. A little kid, which had just been offered to the idol, was frisking about the temple, unconscious of how soon he would be served up as a feast for the Brahmāns. Kid is eaten by Hindūs at particular times, and the priests consider the offerings as holy food.
There is another handsome stone ghāt a little further up the river, with nine temples upon it; and many are the picturesque spots along the banks of the Ganges. Mirzapūr is famous for its manufactory of carpets, which are often sent to England; and large vessels in hundreds were off the city. We proceeded on our voyage, and lugāoed at Bindachun.
CHAPTER LXVIII.
SKETCHES ON THE RIVER FROM BINDACHUN TO ALLAHABAD.
“IF YOU BELIEVE, IT IS A GOD; IF NOT, PLASTER DETACHED FROM A WALL[51].”
Bindachun—Devī Ghāt—The Temple of Bhawānī—Bhagwān—The Thug—The Hajjam—The Tashma-baz Thugs—The Pleasure of Wandering—Sirsya—Munyah Ghāt—Arail—Arrival at Allahabad—Native Sugar-cane Mills.
1844, Dec. 11th.—We lugāoed early in the evening four miles above Mirzapūr at the far-famed Bindachun. The first remarkable object on approaching the place is the ghāt of the Devī (goddess) which stands out into the river; it is adorned with six bastions, which present a very fort-like appearance, and just above it we moored our boats. Taking an old bearer with me, whilst our people were preparing their evening meal, I hastened up to see the famous temple of Bhawānī, the place of resort of the Thugs, where they meet and take the vows. I ascended the steps of the ghāt of which there are about eighty, and very steep; from their summit you enter the bazār. This is a most curious place, and it is so narrow it can scarcely be called a street, being not more than six feet in the widest part, and in many places the breadth does not exceed three or four. It is lined on both sides with native shops, as thick as possible, and paved throughout with flag-stones. The people from the shops called out to me, “Will you not buy a garland for the goddess, or a tāgah?” “Will you not buy sweetmeats for the shrine?” Garlands of fresh flowers were in profusion for sale.