My last visit was to the magnificent treasure of Agra, and, indeed, of all India—the famous Taj-Mehal.
I had read somewhere that this monument ought to be visited last, as the others would not be admired at all after seeing this. Captain Elliot says: “It is difficult to give a description of this monument; the architecture is full of strength and elegance.”
The Taj-Mehal was erected by the Sultan Jehoe (Dschehoe), in memory of his favourite muntaza, Zemani. Its building is said to have cost £750,000. Properly speaking, the sultan’s memory is more perpetuated by this building than that of his favourite, for every one who saw it would involuntarily ask who erected it. The names of the architect and builder are unfortunately lost. Many ascribe it to Italian masters; but when it is seen that there are so many other admirable works of Mahomedan architecture, either the whole must be considered foreign or this must be admitted to be native.
The monument stands in the centre of a garden, upon an open terrace of red sandstone, raised twelve feet above the ground. It represents a mosque of an octagon form, with lofty arched entrances, which, together with the four minarets that stand at the corners of the terrace, is entirely built of white marble. The principal dome rises to a height of 260 feet, and is surrounded by four smaller ones. Round the outside of the mosque extracts from the Koran are inlaid in characters of black marble.
In the principal apartment stand two sarcophagi, of which one contains the remains of the sultan, the other those of his favourite. The lower part of the walls of this apartment, as well as both sarcophagi, are covered with costly mosaic work of the most beautiful stones. A marble lattice-work, six feet high, surrounding the two sarcophagi, is a masterpiece of art. It is so delicate and finely worked, that it seems as if turned out of ivory. The graceful columns and the narrow cornices are also covered, above and below, with jasper, agate, etc. Among these, I was shown the so-called “goldstone,” which has a perfect gold colour, and is said to be very costly, even more so than lapis-lazuli.
Two gateways and two mosques stand at a small distance from the Taj-Mehal. They are built of red sandstone and white marble. If they stood apart, each would be considered a master-work; as it is, however, they lose in attraction by their proximity to the Taj-Mehal, of which a traveller says, with full justice: “It is too pure, too sacred, too perfect, to have been constructed by men’s hands—angels must have brought it from heaven; and one imagines there ought to be a glass shade over it, to protect it from every breath and every wind.”
Although this mausoleum is more than 250 years old, it is as perfect as if it was only just finished.
Many travellers affirm that the Taj-Mehal produces a magical effect when lighted by the moon. I saw it during a full moonshine, but was so little pleased, that I much regretted, by this sight, having somewhat weakened my former impression of it. The moon’s light gives a magical effect to old ruins or Gothic buildings, but not to a monument which consists of white brilliant marble. Moonlight makes the latter appear in indistinct masses, and as if partly covered with snow. Whoever first promulgated this opinion respecting the Taj-Mehal perhaps visited it in some charming company, so that he thought everything round him was heavenly and supernatural; and others may have found it more convenient, instead of putting it to the test themselves, to repeat the statement of their predecessors.
One of the most interesting excursions of my whole journey was to the ruins of the town of Fattipoor Sikri, eighteen miles from Agra, and six miles in circumference. We rode thither, and had ordered changes of horses, so as to be able to make the journey in one day.
On our way, we passed at times over extended heaths, on one of which we saw a small herd of antelopes. The antelope is a kind of deer, but smaller in size. It is extremely delicate and prettily formed, and is distinguished by narrow dark-brown stripes along the back. The herd crossed the road before us without much timidity, passing over ditches and bushes, and leaping more than twenty feet at a time, with such graceful movements that they seemed as if dancing through the air. I was not less delighted by the sight of two wild peacocks. It afforded me peculiar pleasure to see these animals in a state of freedom, which we Europeans are accustomed to keep as rarities, like exotic plants.