Benares is the first city of the north-western provinces, and is well known as the stronghold of Hindooism. It covers an area of 3141 acres, with a population of 500,000, and stands about 270 feet above the sea level.
The trade and manufactures are principally silks, shawls, cloth, embroideries in gold and silver thread, gold filigree work, and, above all, chased brass work. The wealth of Benares, however, mainly depends upon the constant influx of rich pilgrims, whose presence lends the same impetus to the local trade as that given to European watering places by the season visitors.
Many of these pilgrims are rajahs, or other persons of importance, who bring considerable retinues, and become large benefactors to the various shrines or temples. Hindu princes pride themselves upon keeping up a “town residence in Holi-Kasi.” But besides the wealth which thus flows passively into the bazaars of Benares, a considerable trade is carried on by the merchants and bankers. The sugar, indigo, and saltpetre of the district finds a market in the city. The trans-Gagra products of Gorakhpur and Basti, and the raw materials of Jaunpur, form large items in the through traffic of Benares. Manchester goods are imported in considerable quantities and distributed to the neighbouring local centres.
Wheat, barley, pulse of various kinds, maize, oil seeds, most of the esculent vegetables of Europe, rice, and hemp are amongst the staple products of the soil; but the most important article is the sugar cane. Benares surpasses every other part of India in the abundance and excellence of quality of sugar produced.
We made our way straight for Clark’s Hotel, where our old friend the Maharajah of Benares had secured quarters for us. The Residence of His Highness is some distance from the hotel, and the old gentleman, after making every apology for having located us here, said that after dinner he would come and fetch us to attend a “nautch” at the palace; but that he feared we could not be made as comfortable with him as we would at an hotel kept by Europeans.
We found, however, that the Maharajah had given orders on a lavish and royal scale. In fact, the whole of the hotel was “ours”—the other residents were to be “our guests.” The meals were of such a profuse kind, the wines of so varied a description, that we felt almost over-powered. When we attempted remonstrance the landlord said, “It is the wish of the Maharajah that it be so, and I dare not disobey His Highness’s orders.”
At about eight o’clock carriages drove up to the door, and we were taken straight to the palace at Ramnaggar. This—the fort, garden house, and temple of the Maharajah—are well worthy of a visit. The temple is a huge building one hundred feet high, the greater part of which was built by Rajah Chait-Singh, but completed by the present Maharajah. The whole edifice is remarkable for its execution, specially as regards the sculpture.
The garden house is also about a mile from the fort. A magnificent tank is attached to it. It is a square, having a temple at each corner. A handsome “ghât” surrounds it, where hundreds of pilgrims can bathe and dress comfortably.
Ramnaggar is one of the five celebrated places of pilgrimage in Benares. Hindus dying there are sure to enter the abodes of the blessed without their souls undergoing transmigration, which, in their idea, is a far worse fate than the eternal cremation we have such a wholesome dread of.
The palace—or, at least, the portion of the palace thrown open for our reception—is furnished in the European style. The rooms are lofty and well-proportioned. On this occasion they were brilliantly lit up, and filled with the elite of the native population. Our host was most attentive. He had provided every imaginable variety of refreshments, music, singers, jugglers, and the inevitable “nautch,” which went on without any intermission the whole evening—one set of dancers following another when exhausted by their incessant whirling round and abominably discordant song.