The streets are for the most part both dirty and ugly, and many of them are so narrow, that there is scarcely room for a palanquin to pass. At the corner of almost every house stands the figure of the god Shiva.
Among the temples in the town, the handsomest is the “Bisvishas:” it has two towers connected by colonnades, with their summits covered with golden plates. The temple is surrounded by a wall, but we were allowed to enter the fore-court, and to go as far as the entrance. We saw inside several images of Vishnu and Shiva, wreathed with flowers, and strewn over with grains of rice, wheat, etc. Small bulls of metal or stone stood in the porch, and living white bulls (of which I counted eight) wandered about at liberty. The latter are considered sacred, and are allowed to roam where they please, and are not prevented from satisfying their hunger with even the sacrificial flowers and corn.
These sacred animals do not remain in the temples only—they wander about the streets; and the people turn reverently out of their way, and frequently give them fodder. They do not, however, allow them to eat the corn exposed for sale, as was formerly the case. If one of the sacred animals happen to die, it is either thrown into the river or burnt. They receive in this respect the same honour as the Hindoos themselves.
In the temple, there were men and women who had brought flowers, with which they decorated the images. Some of them also laid a piece of money under the flowers. They then sprinkled them over with Ganges’ water, and strewed rice and other corn about.
Near the temple are the most holy places in the town, namely—the so-called “holy well” and the Mankarnika, a large basin of water. The following anecdote is told of the former:—
When the English had conquered Benares, they planted a cannon before the entrance of the temple to destroy the image of the god Mahadeo. The Brahmins, greatly indignant at this, instigated the people to revolt, and they hastened in numerous crowds to the temple. The English, to prevent a disturbance, said to the people: “If your god is stronger than the Christian God, the balls will not hurt him; but if not, he will be broken to pieces.” Of course; the latter was the result. The Brahmins, however, did not give up their cause, but declared that they had seen the spirit of their god leave the idol before the cannon was fired, and plunge into the spring near at hand. From this time the spring was considered sacred.
The Mankarnika is a deep basin, paved with stone, about sixty feet long, and of equal breadth; broad steps lead from the four sides into the water. A similar tradition, but connected with the god Shiva, is attached to this place. Both deities are said to have continued to reside in these waters down to the present day. Every pilgrim who visits Benares must, on his arrival, bathe in this holy pool, and, at the same time, make a small offering. Several Brahmins are always present to receive these gifts. They are in no way distinguished by their dress from the bulk of the better classes, but the colour of their skin is clearer, and many of them have very noble features.
Fifty paces from this pool, on the banks of the Ganges, stands a remarkably handsome Hindoo temple, with three towers. Unfortunately, the ground sunk in a few years since, and the towers were thrown out of their proper position: one inclines to the right and the other to the left; the third is almost sunk into the Ganges.
Among the thousand of other temples, there is here and there one which is worth the trouble of a cursory inspection, but I would not advise any one to go much out of their way on their account. The place for burning the dead is very near the holy pool. When we went there, they were just roasting a corpse—the mode of burning cannot be described by any other name, the fire was so small, and the corpse projected over on all sides.
Among the other buildings, the Mosque Aurang Zeb is most worthy of the notice of travellers. It is famous on account of its two minarets, which are 150 feet high, and are said to be the slenderest in the world. They look like two needles, and certainly are more deserving of the name than that of Cleopatra at Alexandria. Narrow winding staircases in the interior lead to the top, upon which a small platform, with a balustrade a foot high, is erected. It is fortunate for those who are not subject to dizziness. They can venture out, and take a bird’s-eye view of the endless sea of houses, and the innumerable Hindoo temples; the Ganges also, with its step quays, miles long, lies exposed below. I was told that on very clear, fine days, a distant chain of mountains was perceivable—the day was fine and clear, but I could not see the mountains.