Due West; Or, Round the World in Ten Months

by Maturin M. Ballou

Agra, which, like Delhi, stands not on the Ganges, but on its great tributary, the Jumna, is an important city, fully as populous as Lahore; and though its history is rather vague, still there are tangible evidences carrying it back more than a thousand years, while some authorities claim for it a much greater antiquity. Its modern history is interwoven with the great mutiny, and our local guide wearied us by expatiating volubly upon the subject. To all who come hither, the first great object of interest will be the Taj Mahal, or tomb of the wife of Emperor Shah-Jehan, the most interesting building in India, and perhaps the most beautiful in the world. A tomb in this country means a magnificent structure of marble, with domes and minarets, the walls inlaid with precious stones, and the whole surrounded by gardens, fountains, and artificial lakes, covering from ten to twenty acres. Cheap as labor is in India, the Taj must have cost some fifteen millions of dollars, and was seventeen years in building. The Mogul Emperor resolved to erect the most superb monument ever reared to commemorate a woman's name, and he certainly succeeded, for in his effort Mohammedan architecture reached its acme. The mausoleum is situated in a spacious garden, the equal of which can hardly be found elsewhere, beautiful to the eye, and delightful to the senses with fragrant flowers, exotic and indigenous, of every hue, and in endless variety, embracing acres of roses, "each cup a pulpit, every leaf a book." These are softly shaded by trees scarcely less beautiful than themselves. The whole scene is reflected in lakes of clearest water, from which scores of fountains throw up pearly jets in the dazzling sunshine the livelong day and through the still watches of the night. This grand structure, with the ripeness of centuries upon it, is no ruin; there is no neglect in or about the Taj and its gardens. All is fresh, fragrant, and perfect as at the hour when it was completed.

The edifice, which is of white marble, a material retaining its snow-like purity for centuries in this climate, is embellished with domes, colonnades, towers, and all the pomp, finish, and lavishness of Eastern architecture. It stands upon a stone platform of the same material, from three to four hundred feet square, to reach the surface of which one ascends about twenty steps. On the back of this platform runs a marble balustrade overlooking the Jumna. On each corner of the terrace is a marble minaret about a hundred and forty feet in height, of fine proportions, like four sentinels placed there to guard the mausoleum, which forms the centre of the platform. Two mosques, built of red sandstone, stand between these minarets, one on the east and one on the west side. The height of the Taj from the base to the top of the dome must be very nearly or quite three hundred feet. The principal dome in itself is eighty feet high, and of such exquisite form and harmony is the whole, that it seems almost to float in the atmosphere. Agate, sapphire, jasper, and other precious stones are wrought into flowers, and inlaid upon the polished marble, the work having employed the best artists for years. In the centre of the edifice, beneath the glorious dome, are two sarcophagi covering the resting-place of the emperor and his wife, whose bodies are in the vault below. How appropriate the inscription at the threshold: "To the Memory of an Undying Love." On the surrounding grounds are the fragrant blossoms of nature; within are flower-wreaths of mosaic blooming in jasper, carnelian, and lapis-lazuli, fresh and bright as when they came from the artist's hand centuries ago. As we stood beneath the arched roof of the cupola, beside the pure white tombs of glistening marble, a verse from Longfellow's "Psalm of Life" was repeated in a low tone of voice. Instantly there rolled through the dimly-lighted vault above a soft and solemn repetition, which sounded as though voices were repeating the psalm in the skies, with such music and pathos as to dim our eyes with tears. The delicate echo beneath the dome of the Taj, just above where sleep the royal ashes, is one of its most remarkable and thrilling mysteries.

This superb exposition of architectural perfection was visited first in the glow of sunrise, again in the golden haze of sunset, and once under the fiery blaze of midday. It is only beneath an intensely blue sky that one can realize the full and exquisite effect of pure white marble. Nothing finer or more lovely in architecture exists than this faultless monument, this ideal of Saracenic art, in all its rich harmony, erected by an Indian emperor to the memory of his favorite wife, Mumtaz Mahal, which signifies the "Chosen of the Palace." The Taj leaves an undying impression of beauty on all beholders, and certainly in this instance beauty outvalues utility. Shakespeare might well have written of sermons in stones had he seen the Taj. The marble and red sandstone came from Rajpootana, the diamonds and jaspers from the Punjab, the carnelians and agates from Tibet, the corals from Arabia, the sapphires and other precious stones from Ceylon, and the genius that combined them all came from Heaven. Madame de Staël never saw this gem of India, and yet she said that architecture was frozen music. Emerson would have called it a blossoming in stone.

The Palace of Akbar is within the famous fort of Agra, a couple of miles from the Taj, the other side of the Jumna, a structure of such magnitude as to form almost a city within itself, measuring two miles around its walls. Those walls, over fifty feet in height, are of red sandstone, with towers at intervals, and a deep moat. It is situated on the banks of the river, with which its vaults have an underground communication. We were shown one dark and gloomy cellar far below the level of the fort, known as the execution room, where the criminals, condemned in the Judgment Hall above, received their punishment. The headsman's block was still there, and certain dark stains were pointed out to us by means of the candle carried by the guide, which told their own story. In the centre of this dreary vault was a well whose water was level with the river, into which it opened some twenty feet from the surface, and into which the decapitated bodies of the criminals were cast and left to float away with the ebb and flow of the Jumna's tide. The bed of the river showed that at certain seasons it must be at least half a mile in width, but it was a meagre stream when we crossed it that bright and sunny February day.

The royal apartments within the palace are being restored at present, and many skilled workmen were busy upon the frescoes, inlaid stone work, and delicate marble ornamentations, while we were there. The Grotto of Glass, as the principal bath-room designed for the use of the harem is called, was a curious and luxurious marble room, with inviting pure white marble tanks large enough to swim in, and surrounded by tiny glass mirrors let into the walls at such angles as to reflect a figure myriads of times, quite distracting to look upon. All departments of this remarkable royal residence are exquisitely finished, showing no less of refined, artistic taste, than of lavish expenditure. The courts, chambers, boudoirs, fountains, pavilions, reception halls, throne room, all are of marble and mosaic, with beautiful inlaid work everywhere. Many of the floors represented delicate vines and blooming flowers in precious stones, like the modern Florentine mosaic work one sees in such perfection wrought upon tallies at the shops that line the Arno in Florence. The Jewel Chamber, and the suite of apartments formerly devoted to the use of the harem, were curiously screened by a lattice work of white marble, lace-like in effect, and a curiosity in itself. Delicate carving could hardly be carried to more minute finish in alabaster. The marble inches and pockets, for holding the jewelry of the fair occupants, were so arranged that none but a delicate arm could reach the treasures; a man's hand and wrist would be too large; while the stone pockets, being curved at the bottom, required the long sensitive fingers of the owner's hand to extract what they contained.

These apartments all overlooked, by means of exquisite little marble balconies, the grand valley of the Jumna, through which the river may be traced for miles; while on the opposite shore there lies the glorious Taj, with its snow-white domes and minarets looming above the lovely setting of cypresses, and the luxurious vegetation of its surrounding gardens. Within the fort is also the Pearl Mosque, the rival of the little royal temple of similar character which we had seen at Delhi. The front of this Moli Musjed is supported by marble pillars, and is surmounted by three beautiful marble domes, of such perfection and loveliness of outline as to be the puzzle of modern architects, just as our best sculptors are nonplused before the Venus of Milo, and some other examples of Greek art; they may imitate, but they cannot hope to equal them. "Indeed," said a well-known artist to us in the gallery of the Louvre, in presence of this marvelous creation, "the sculptor himself, were he living, could not repeat his work. It was a ray of inspiration caught from Heaven." So we thought of the Moli Musjed.

The Tomb of Akbar at Secundra was visited, a few miles from Agra. It is situated, like most other Mogul buildings of the same period, in a large inclosure laid out as a beautiful garden, with fountains, lakes, statuary, tamarind-trees, oranges, lemons, among the most fragrant flowers. It was a glorious day on which we drove out to Secundra, the air was musical with the merry notes of the minos, in their dusky red plumage, the little chirping bee-eaters, hoopoes, and blue-jays. Some little girls freely plucked the abundant rose-buds, pinks, lemon verbenas, and geraniums, bringing them to us for pennies, instigated by the gardeners, who looked on approvingly. This magnificent tomb would be a seven days' wonder in itself, were it not so near that greater charm and marvel of loveliness, the Taj. It was from this grand architectural structure that the Koh-i-noor was taken. The spacious grounds form one of the finest parks in India, art having seconded the kindly purpose of nature in a favored spot where vegetation is as various as it is luxuriant and beautiful.

Our hotel at Agra was one of the most comfortable and American-like which can be found in India. The scene on the broad piazza, all day long, was curious and interesting, forming a sort of open bazar, where every establishment in the place had a representative and samples of its goods. All tourists are presumed to have come to purchase, and importunity is a part of the natives' business. Photographs, models of the Taj, precious stones, sandal-wood boxes, mosaics, and swords, the variety is infinite, the patience of the dealers equally inexhaustible. Nothing but absolute force could drive them away, and no one uses that. If you utterly decline to purchase anything, they fold their hands and wait. The most curious part of the business, if you purchase at all, is the elastic character of the prices, since no one pretends to pay that which is first charged, the dealer does not expect it, and the running fire of barter, chaffing, and cheapening is most laughable. The vendor begins by asking at least double what he will finally offer his goods for, and in the end probably gets twice their intrinsic value. If one of the natives were to offer his articles at a fixed and reasonable valuation, he would be mobbed on the spot by his companions. Dickering is the poetry of trade to a Hindoo.