We had a commanding prospect of the country, stretching in a vast plain for miles around. We could see the Maharajah’s palace amidst its parks and gardens—a white building among the green foliage, and nearer the foot of the Rock the new town of Gwalior, called Lashkar. We descended on the farther (northern) side of the rock by a winding road, and from here we saw some huge carved figures cut in the face of the sandstone cliffs in bold relief. Most of these are said to represent Adinath, the first Jain pontiff, but there is a seated figure of Nemnath, the twenty-second pontiff. Each bear their symbols, that of the first being a bull and of the second a shell. There are life-size as well as small figures cut on the lower parts of the cliff. The effect of these strange carvings is very weird. They have an impersonal and unrelated look, and give one the impression of being more ancient than they really are; but they only date from A.D. 1441 to 1474.
We found our carriage waiting for us at the foot of the hill, having driven round the Rock from the old town, and we got back to the Guest House about noon.
In the late afternoon we drove to the Maharajah’s palace, and presenting our cards, were shown over the rooms by a very polite English officer. The building is in a sort of late Italian Renaissance style, all white outside, with a great display of pilasters and columned porticoes. We entered a vast durbar hall in white and gold, with modern French-looking furniture with curly legs upholstered in green. There were many photographs of recent English Governor-Generals on the walls, as well as indifferent full-length, life-sized portraits in oil of the late Maharajah. The best of these was said to have been painted by one Scott—a landscape painter (!). In one of the smaller rooms there was an English water-colour drawing of Sussex Downs by A. F. Grace (whom I remember at Heatherly’s in student days), and several photographic official groups of the usual type, in which the Maharajah is seated by the Prince of Wales, surrounded by rows of officials and notabilities, all with “eyes front.” We wrote our names in the visitors’ book, and then drove through the grounds, which are very extensive. In one part lions are kept—apparently in a most insecure way, as they not unfrequently escape and ravage the country round. In fact, this had quite recently happened, and natives had been killed by them. A very taciturn gentleman at the Guest House had been pointed out to us by the more genial of our fellow-countrymen there as the official who had been sent by the Maharajah to fetch the wandering lions back, and he had been over a distance of about three hundred miles before he succeeded in “rounding them up.” He did not tell us, however, how it was done, though he had a look as of one who “could a tale unfold”—not to speak of a lion’s tail! When we saw the place where these lions were kept we were not surprised that they should have been able to escape if they had a mind to. We looked down on them as they were gnawing some bones. They were loose in a sort of open court, overgrown with grass, and enclosed within four plastered walls which any cat could have scaled, no palisading or iron railing at the top. There were five lions and one lioness visible. The remains of their repast of meat was pounced on by kites and crows with much clamour.
We next saw the Maharajah’s elephants, and passed down a long line of them, chained by the fore-legs, down one side of an open courtyard, all eating what looked like the stalks of Indian corn. There were about thirty elephants here. One of them was handsomely painted on the forehead in a similar way to the state elephant we saw at Jaipur, but none of them had quite such big tusks. Returning through the gardens, we passed the older palace; also a white building, but in the Mogul style, with many domes and minarets, and facing a large tank with marble steps.
Our party at the Guest House was increased at dinner by two very pleasant American ladies, who, owing to their powers of conversation, caused the very reserved Anglo-Indians to melt a little and show some signs of human interest, especially when one of the ladies related her thrilling experiences during the San Francisco earthquake.
The next morning we visited the newer city of Gwalior, which we had seen from the fort. The streets were fairly wide, and some had varied and picturesque fronts in plaster-work. We were driven to the gate of a big and rather new Hindu temple, spoiled by the insertion of crude pieces of coloured glass, of the commonest European make, in the fan-lights of the doors on each side. A sacred bull of black marble and a snake fetish were the most interesting things there.
In the same court was an older temple raised on a flight of steps. To approach this, one’s shoes had to be taken off, and from the door only a peep was allowed into the dark interior, which, as far as I could see was painted all over with figures of deities and emblems in a barbaric way in coarse and crude colours. The thing to look at, it appeared, was a portrait of the late Maharajah in his jewels, on what we should call the high altar, which was suddenly illuminated by artificial light by one of the native attendants.
Zebu cows were wandering freely about in the court of the temple, and here for a wonder no fees were taken.
IN THE BAZAAR, GWALIOR