We went at once to the Kutub Minar, or Pillar, the loftiest column in the world, or 234 feet high. But its chief interest is not derived from this, but from its extreme beauty and unique character. Pillars and columns there are all over the world, from the Pillars of Hercules to the Monument near London Bridge, but none so beautiful, so original, so rich, as the Kutub Minar of Delhi.
In the first place it is built of full-coloured red sandstone, and in the second it is fluted; but the "fluting" does not convey the curious and effective pattern, seen nowhere else I think, of a fluting alternately "round" and "angular." The Kutub tapers, as all such mighty erections must, that the laws of equilibrium may be carried out in their broad base. It is divided into five stories by the balconies which run round in a zigzag, and which are supported by a bracket where each angle touches the column; but "the distance between these balconies diminishes in proportion to the diameter of the shaft, thus adding to the apparent height of the column by exaggerated perspective."
The first story, or the ground floor, is polygonal, with the fluting in alternate rows of acute angles and rounded semicircles; the second is entirely semicircle; the third all acute angles; the fourth is a circle of white marble (a curious anomaly); and the fifth is just a band of carving surmounted by the railed enclosure of the summit. These alternate flutings give an irregular appearance to the "horizontal" lines of the pillar when seen at a little distance off, and the base also appears to bulge out much at the sides, where it enters the ground. Maintaining the idea of the symmetry of the gradually ascending but decreasing scale, all the delicate Arabic inscriptions, the bands of the Koran surrounding the Minar, are arranged as follows:—Six are on the lowest, two are on the second, and one on the third story, but none above on the next, where the marble band replaces them. The top band on the lower story gives the ninety-nine names of God in Arabic, and the remainder are variously verses from the Koran, or praises of Muhammed bin Sám.
Twice the Kutub has been struck by lightning, once in 1068 and again in 1503, as recorded in an inscription; but now it is made safe from such damages by the lightning-rod which we see at the bottom and meet again at the top of the 375 steps. Some idea is given of its narrowing proportions, when I say that three men can easily stand abreast on the lower steps, whereas here at the summit one man can with difficulty pass. The view over the plain of Delhi in its utter flatness, reaching even to the horizon, is very uninteresting and disappointing, on account of the weary toil up. The Hindus claim the Kutub as of their erection, and say it was made by Prithie Rajah to enable his daughter to see over the plains to the sacred Ganges. Others think it is Mohammedan, and certainly the inscriptions must have been added by them. Looking up to the Kutub we noticed a curious effect—that the clouds moving quickly across the sky gave to the tower the appearance of shifting instead. Near the Kutub Minar is a similar column, commenced to match the other; but, left unfinished, it is now falling into decay.
As usual, minor antiquities cluster round the greater one, and near the Kutub is the tomb of the Emperor Altinash, the supposed builder of the column, and the palace of the Emperor Alâ-ud-din, which has a very beautiful horse-shoe arch. This is considered the first specimen of Pathan architecture extant. But the principal interest here is a mosque constructed from the remains of twenty-seven Hindu temples by the first Mohammedan King of Delhi in 1193. The Hindu columns that have been used by their successors to form a thick row of cloisters are most admirably and quaintly carved. Gods and mythological figures form the chief feature; but in one corner we see a bullock-cart, where the tire and spokes of the wheel are very distinct; in another some men pounding millet; while monkeys form the brackets, or the head of a bull the ornamentation for a capital.
In the centre of this ruined temple stands the Iron Pillar of the famous legend. It rises twenty-two feet above the ground, and it has been proved by excavation that its foundation is at least sixty-two feet below the surface.
Rajah Pithora consulted the Brahmins, or priests, as to the length of his dynasty. They replied that if he could sink an iron shaft into the earth, and pierce the snake-god Lishay, who upheld the earth, it would endure for ever. Time elapsed, and the Rajah became curious to know the result of the sinking of his iron shaft, and against all the Brahminical warnings had the pillar uprooted. Great was the consternation when it was found that the end was covered with blood. It was hastily put back again into the earth, but the charm was broken. The kingdom of Pithora was shortly conquered, his life was taken, and no Hindu king has ever reigned in Delhi since.
It was a pretty sight to see the sacred goats living about the temple, looking down over the ruined wall on a caravan of camels, whose drivers had gone up the tower, where some took the opportunity for saying their prayers.
When they came down again, I suddenly thought what a good opportunity this would be to try riding on a camel. Seated on the edge and hindermost point of his back, it was an awful moment when the camel sat forward on his front knees, and then rose to the full length of his fore-legs. Then I was at a very acute and ticklish angle, and he took his time, too, to raise his hind-legs and bring me to a comfortable level once more. The motion is easy and pleasant (though it makes your head "waggle" in a ridiculous way) when taken at the slow deliberate walk that the driver carefully led me; but I can well imagine the agony of the trot, when no action of your body can keep time or swing with such an incomprehensible motion. The worst part undoubtedly is the getting off. Down goes the first division of the animal, the legs to the knees, and then the second, at which the body rests on the ground, when you are in danger of being precipitated over his head. Lastly the hind-legs subside, and you slide off over his tail. At the word of command he performs these various evolutions, but it is generally accompanied by a discontented snort and grunt. I like the deliberate way the beast always walks, with that affected turning of the head from side to side, and the nose disdainfully held high in the air.
In returning home we passed the beautiful white dome of the mausoleum of Sajdar Jang; but though beautiful outside, there is nothing to see in the interior, and we were fairly weary of mosques, mausoleums, and tombs to-day. Nor did we linger at the Junter Mundir, or Observatory, as we had seen that finer one of Benares. From the distance we traced its gigantic sun-dial, and the two towers exactly alike, with the pillars that mark the 360°, so that one observation could be corrected by the other. Needless to say that we were extremely tired at nightfall.