The lall petarah, or audience hall, is an immense hall, now used as an armoury.
I have just returned from an expedition that has taken a marvellous hold of my fancy. Yesterday Mr. C⸺ said that, if I would promise to pay the Shīsha-Mahal a visit, he would have it lighted up: the apartments are usually only lighted up to satisfy the curiosity of the Governor-general. I went with pleasure; the place was illuminated with hundreds of little lamps: there was not time to have the water raised from the river, or we should have seen the effect of the sheets of water pouring over and beyond the rows of lights in the marble niches. After viewing the Shīsha-Mahal, the effect of which was not as good as I had imagined it would be, Mr. C⸺ asked me if I should like to see the apartments under ground, in which the padshah and his family used to reside during the hot winds. We descended to view these tykkanahs and the steam-baths belonging to them. Thence we went by the aid of lighted torches to view a place that made me shudder. An officer examining these subterranean passages some time ago, observed, that he was within the half of a vault of an octagon shape, the other half was blocked up by a strong, but hastily formed wall. Tradition amongst the natives asserted, that within the underground passages in the Fort, was a vault in which people had been hanged and buried, but no one could say where this vault was to be found.
The officer above-mentioned, with great toil and difficulty, cut through a wall eight feet in thickness, and found himself in an inner vault of large dimensions, built of stone, with a high and arched roof. Across this roof was a thick and carved beam of wood, with a hole in its centre, and a hook, such as is used for hanging people. Below and directly under this hole in the beam, and in the centre of the vault, was a grave; this grave he opened, and found the bangles (ornaments for the arms) of a woman. Such is the place I have just visited. My blood ran cold as I descended the steps, the torches burning dimly from the foulness of the air, and I thought of the poor creatures who might have entered these dismal passages, never to revisit the light of day. I crept from the passage through the hole which had been opened in the thick wall, and stood on the ransacked grave, or perhaps graves of secret murder. Close to this vault is another of similar appearance; the thickness of the wall has baffled the patience of some person who has attempted to cut through it; however, the officers who were with me this evening say they will open it, as well as a place which they suppose leads to passages under the city. An old sergeant who has been here thirty years, says he once went through those passages, but the entrance has subsequently been bricked up, and he cannot discover it: the place which it is supposed is the blocked-up entrance, through which he passed, will, they say, be opened to-morrow. Having seen this spot of secret murder and burial, I can believe any of the horrible histories recorded in the annals of the padshahs: only imagine the entrance having been blocked up by a wall eight feet in thickness!
Quitting the Fort, we drove to the Tāj: the moon was at the full, adding beauty to the beautiful; the Tāj looked like fairy frost-work, yet so stately and majestic. And this superb building—this wonder of the world—is the grave of a woman, whilst only a short distance from it, is the vault of secret murder,—the grave also of a woman! What a contrast! How different the destiny of those two beings! The grave of the unknown and murdered one only just discovered amidst the dismal subterraneous passages in the Fort: the grave of the other bright and pure and beautiful in the calm moonlight. The damp, unwholesome air of the vaults is still in my throat; we were some time exploring and hunting for the passage, which, they say, leads to the temple of an Hindoo, who lives in the Tripolia; he will suffer no one to enter his temple, and declares the devil is there in propriâ personâ.
When I retired to rest on my charpāī, I found it difficult to drive away the fancies that surrounded me.
The walls of the Fort, and those buildings within it that are of carved red freestone, were built by Akbar: the marble buildings were erected by Shāhjahān.
The seat of the padshah is an immense slab of black marble, the largest perhaps ever beheld; it was broken in two by an earthquake. A Burā Bahādur, from this throne of the padshah, exclaimed, “I have come, not to succeed Lord Auckland, but Akbar!” The convulsion of the earth, that split in two the throne of black marble, could not have astonished it more than this modest speech—Allāhu Akbar!
In front, and on the other side of the court, is the seat of the vizier; a slab of white marble. The seat on which the padshah used to sit to view the fights of the wild beasts in the court below, is one of great beauty; the pillars and arches, of the most elegant workmanship, are beautifully carved; the whole plain and light.
The steam-baths are octagonal rooms below, with arched roofs; three of these rooms are of white marble, with inlaid marble pavements; and there is a fountain, from which hot water springs up from a marble basin. The baths in the apartments below the palace, which most probably belonged to the zenāna, were broken up by the Marquis of Hastings: he committed this sacrilege on the past, to worship the rising sun; for he sent the most beautiful of the marble baths, with all its fretwork and inlaid flowers, to the Prince Regent, afterwards George the Fourth.
Having thus destroyed the beauty of the baths of the palace, the remaining marble was afterwards sold on account of Government; most happily, the auction brought so small a sum, it put a stop to further depredations.