As soon as Jane was fit, we joined forces with a young fellow-countryman and his sister, who were the only other English people in the hotel, and drove out to see the Kutab Minar. On arrival we found a comfortable dâk bungalow, and, having made an excellent breakfast, sallied forth to view the Kutab. May I confess that I was again a little disappointed? I do not really know exactly why, but the great tower, whose fluted shaft, dark red in the sunglow, shoots up some 270 feet into the air, did not appeal to me. It is like no other column—it is unique, marvellous,—but it leaves me cold.
The splendid arch of the screen of the old temple, and the lovely columns of the Jain temple opposite, attracted me far more than the Kutab Minar.
Jane and young Buxton went off to see a native jump down a well fifty feet deep for four annas. The performance sounded curious, but unpleasant. The sightseers were much impressed! Meanwhile, Miss Buxton and I discovered a very modern and exceedingly hideous little Hindu temple, painted in the most appalling manner—altogether a gem of grotesqueness, and truly delightful and refreshing.
Tea in front of the dâk bungalow, in a corner blazing with “gold mohurs” and rosy oleanders, while the driver and the syce harnessed the lean pair of horses, a final visit to the Kutab and the great arch, and we fared back over the eleven bumpy miles that lay between us and Delhi.
A good deal of my spare time, while Jane was hors de combat, was spent in the jewellers’ shops of the Chandni chowk, the principal merchants’ quarter of Delhi. I do not think that anything very special in the way of a “bargain” is to be obtained by the amateur, although stones are undoubtedly cheaper than in London. I saw little really fine jewellery, probably because I was obviously unlikely to be a big buyer, but many good spinels, dark topaz, and rough emeralds. The stones I wanted I failed to get. Alexandrites were not, and pink topaz scarce and dear. The dealers generally tried to sell pale spinels as pink topaz. Peridot are cheaper, I think, at home, and certainly in Cairo, and the only amethysts worth looking at are sent out from Germany. The pale ones of the country come from Jaipur. By-the-bye, the best-coloured amethysts I ever remember seeing were in Clermont Ferrand.
Delhi has always been connected with gems in my mind. I am not certain why. Partly, perhaps, because the famous Peacock Throne of Shah Jehan stood in the Palace here. I cannot resist giving the description of it in the words of Tavernier, who saw it about 1655, and who describes it as follows:—
“This is the largest throne; it is in form like one of our field-beds, six foot long and four broad. The cushion at the back is round like a bolster; the cushions on the sides are flat. I counted about a hundred and eight pale rubies in collets about this throne, the least whereof weighed a hundred carats. Emeralds I counted about a hundred and forty.”
“The under part of the canopy is all embroidered with pearls and diamonds, with a fringe of pearls round about. Upon the top of the canopy, which is made like an arch with four paws, stands a peacock with his tail spread, consisting entirely of sapphires and other proper-coloured stones;[1] the body is of beaten gold enchased with several jewels; and a great RUBY upon his breast, to which hangs a pearl that weighs fifty carats. On each aide of the peacock stand two nosegays as high as the bird, consisting of various sorts of flowers, all of beaten gold enamelled.”
[1] “Au dessus du ciel qui est faite en voûte à quatre pans on voit un Paon, qui a la queue relevée fait de Saphirs bleus et autres pierres de couleur.”—TAVERNIER, livre ii. chap. viii.
“When the king seats himself upon the throne there is a transparent jewel, with a diamond appendant of eighty or ninety carats weight, encompassed with rubies and emeralds, so hung that it is always in his eye. The twelve pillars also, that uphold the canopy, are set with rows of fair pearl, round, and of an excellent water, that weigh from six to ten carats apiece.”