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Other documents randomly have
different content
not higher than one foot from the earth, like a little ant hill, but
ornamented with a kalsā, which quite covered the little mound.
Those of stone were from six to eight feet high, and of various
forms. There is a hollow space within the satī, into which, through
the little arch, the offerings are placed; and there also are deposited
the two sīr, as they call them, which are made of stone, and are like
a cannon ball split in halves. See the plate of the kalsās, fig. 1. One
very old satī tomb, in ruins, stood on the edge of the high cliff above
the river, shaded by a clump of bamboos. The spot interested me
extremely. It is very horrible to see how the weaker are imposed
upon; and it is the same all over the world, civilized or uncivilized—
perhaps some of these young married women, from eleven to
twenty years of age, were burnt alive, in all the freshness of youth;
it may be with the corpse of some decrepit sickly old wretch to
whom their parents had given them in marriage.
The laws of England relative to married women, and the state of
slavery to which those laws degrade them, render the lives of some
few in the higher, and of thousands in the lower ranks of life, one
perpetual satī, or burning of the heart, from which they have no
refuge but the grave, or the cap of liberty,—i.e. the widow’s, and
either is a sad consolation.
 KULSAS.

Sketched on the spot and on Stone by ‎‫‏فاني پارکس‏‬‎

“It is this passive state of suffering which is most difficult to

endure, and which it is generally the fate of women to experience. It
is too commonly their lot to be deceived into a belief, that as they
are the gentler sex, so they ought to be the weakest. Alas, it is far
otherwise; the soldier covered with wounds of glory, the mariner
warring with the elements, the sage consuming his strength with the
midnight oil, or the bigot wearing life away with fanatical zeal in
false devotion, require not the unshrinking firmness, the never-
failing patience, the unbending fortitude which is expected from
almost every woman.”
The river has encroached so much upon the cliff, and so much
ground has fallen in, that, probably, the place of the satīs was of
much larger extent; next year, most likely, those that are now
tottering on the edge of the cliff will fall into the depth below. From
this place I returned to the mandap, and sketched the satīs I had
first seen. Their kalsās had figures upon them, meant to represent
the husband and wife; I brought three of these ornaments away,—
they have received all the honours; their foreheads have been
marked with red paint, lamps have been lighted and placed upon
their points, and offerings have been laid before them. Pretty well
fagged with my moonlight expedition, I returned to the boats and
slept quietly,—a great blessing.

THE KALSĀS.
Fig. 1. The two sīr.
2. A kalsā taken from under an old tree on the banks of the
Ganges, in front of the temple, in the sketch of “Three Satīs
and a Mandap near Ghazipūr.”
3. A kalsā from the satī mound of the Kyiatt at Barrah.
4 and 5. These kalsās were taken from the satī ground at
Ghazipūr, where there were twenty-eight cenotaphs, and
which was only a short distance from the three satīs
represented in the other plate. On both of them are curious
representations of the husband and wife sitting side by side.
6. This kalsā differs from the rest, being hollow at the top,
and the upper part of the dome of the cenotaph passed
 through it; on the points of its horns, the Brahmān said, lights
were placed on particular days. It was taken off the top of the
satī in the foreground of the sketch, over which two lotas are
suspended to receive the offerings of the pious. Each of these
kalsās had four horns; they were much damaged by time,
and some of the horns were broken off; they were formed of
coarse red pottery.
7. The topī-wālā kalsā from Allahabad,—see Vol. I. p. 96.
8. The kalsā from a satī by the temple of Bhawanī Alopee
Bāgh, Allahabad,—Vol. I. p. 96.
9. The crescent and half-moon of the above kalsā.
10. The kalsā without the points, to show the manner in
which it is made. It is the duty of the kumhārs, or potters of
the village, to place new kalsās as the old ones are broken, or
decay, or are taken away.

30th.—Quitted the satī ground, and came up to the Cantonment

ghāt just below the tomb of the Marquis Cornwallis. We are now in
the north-western provinces, in which my husband holds his
appointment under the Lieutenant-Governor of Agra, and have
announced our arrival in due form.
The Civil and Military station of Ghazipūr is one hundred and
nineteen miles above Dinapūr, or thirty-one miles above Buxar on
the left bank of the river. The native town is built on precipices; the
European inhabitants reside on a large plain about the centre of the
station; the cantonments form the upper part, and the European
hospital is at the other extreme. Between the Civil and Military lines
are the chapel and the tomb. It is noted for its opium manufactory,
and Government stud establishment, where horses can be
purchased, as also for its rose-water, atr of roses, and other
perfumed oils. Provisions of all sorts may be purchased here, also
European articles and millinery. Its distance from Calcutta, viâ
Bhagirathī, is six hundred and twenty-seven miles, viâ Sunderbunds
nine hundred and fifteen, and by land four hundred and thirty-one.
The dāk runs in four days—steamer’s passage, from seventeen to
twenty days: they remain here for passengers, cargo, and coal.
Passengers for Ghoruckpūr should land here. This is the lower
extreme of the North-Western Provinces, or Agra Presidency, and is
a great place of trade; it is also the lowest station for the Agra flat-
boats. Kankarī banks, a sort of stony gravel, commence here, and
run hence upwards. At this station we purchased game; a man came
to our boats, and offered two wild geese and three wild ducks for
sale; he carried a long native matchlock, and led a cow by a string;
this cow he used as a stalking horse, the birds being so shy it would
otherwise be impossible to get within shot distance.
Dec. 1st.—A good day, having had but little contrary wind;
lugāoed off Booraneepūr. On the edge of the high cliff stood a little
temple and a large peepul-tree, very picturesque, which induced me
to climb the rough kankarī bank, and to find my way to the temple
through a deserted village; there were a great number of ruined
huts, and very few inhabitants; the village dogs barked most fiercely
at a distance, and skulked away at my approach. This is the fall of
the leaf, and the large peepul-tree was nearly leafless, which showed
off its long and peculiar branches; one branch, at the height of
about eight feet from the ground, stretched out in a horizontal
direction to the length of sixty feet: although it is now winter for the
peepul, in three weeks more it will be covered with fresh green
leaves. At the foot of the tree was a large satī mound of mud; it was
so much neglected that no pious hand had placed even a kalsā on
the top, and not a flower had been offered there, nor a lamp burned
in pūja. A little Hindoo temple of octagonal form stood on the
extreme edge of the cliff, some fragments of idols were placed
against its side; no Brahmān was there, and the place looked cold
and desolate; a young banyan tree formed the background, and the
Ganges spread its broad waters to the far horizon.
The “Directory” says,—“Eight miles above Ghazipūr is the
dangerous kankār reef that strikes directly across the river. Twenty-
three miles above Ghazipūr is Chochookpore stone ghāt and temple,
noted for the numerous monkeys that resort there. Two miles above
Chochookpore, on the right bank of the river, is the sunken rock,
opposite to a palm-tree just below Sanotie.” All the difficulties and
dangers, monkeys and all, we have passed to-day, without being
conscious of their existence; the monkeys and temples I was sorry I
did not see,—we passed without observing them. The river has been
very uninteresting, nothing to look at, and very few vessels: moored
on a most solitary and insulated sandbank.
“Thirty miles above Ghazipūr by Kucharee, on the left bank, is a
difficult channel with a dangerous sunken reef. Six miles above it is
Seydpūr, a large native town, with a tahsīldār and a dārogha: and
two miles above Seydpūr is the junction of the Goomtie river, that
goes up to Lucnow, said to be a very intricate and rocky stream, too
shallow for the smallest boats in the dry season. The Ganges, from
above Kucharee reef, past Seydpūr, up to the Goomtie, a distance of
eight miles, is a very difficult passage, with various bad patches of
kankar rock, on which native boats and budgerows split
instantaneously.
“Five miles above the Goomtie is Chandroutī, with a white temple.
In mid-channel is a very dangerous pakka platform, on kankar, with
the ruins of an old temple on it, and no passable channel on its
north-west or Zinhore side, and very dangerous for downward-
bound boats, as the current sets directly upon it.” At Seydpūr is a
very elaborately carved mandap or Hindū temple, of elegant form.

FUNERAL RITES.—BURNING THE DEAD.

As our boats passed slowly along, we had an opportunity of
witnessing the funeral rites of the Hindūs: the burning of a corpse
was being performed just at the base of the cliff on the edge of the
river. The nearest relative, as is the custom, was stirring up the
body, and pushing it well into the flames with a long pole: much oil
and ghī must have been expended and poured over the wood, as it
burnt fiercely. The face of the corpse looked cold and pale and fixed,
as the wind blew aside the flames and smoke, and enabled me to
behold a scene that shocked me: in all probability the son was
performing the ceremony. We read of the Romans burning their
dead, regard it in a classical light, and think of it without disgust,—
but when you see the ceremony really performed it is very painful:
nevertheless, a sort of absurdity was mixed with it in my mind, as
“stir him up with the long pole” flashed across my memory. A group
of relatives were sitting by the river-side, watching the ceremony; on
its conclusion they will bathe and return to their homes.
The kapāl-krīyā, a ceremony among Hindūs, is, that when a dead
body is burning, and nearly reduced to ashes, the nearest relation
breaks the skull with the stroke of a bamboo, and pours ghī (clarified
butter) into the cavity. Hence kapāl-krīyā karna, to think intensely, to
beat or cudgel one’s brains.
The charpāī on which the corpse had been carried, being reckoned
unclean, had been thrown into the river, and the broken lota that
had contained ghī was at its side. The scene was reflected in the
Ganges. From the quantity of wood and ghī consumed the departed
must have been a rich man: the relatives of the very poor scarcely
do more than scorch the body, and throw it into the river, where it
floats swollen and scorched—a horrible sight.
“The burning of the body is one of the first ceremonies the Hindūs
perform for the help of the dead in a future state. If this ceremony
have not been attended to, the rites for the repose of the soul
cannot be performed. If a person be unable to provide wood, cloth,
clarified butter, rice, water-pans, and other things, besides the fee
for the priest, he must beg among his neighbours. If the body be
thrown into the river, or burnt, without the accustomed ceremonies,
as is sometimes the case, the ceremonies may be performed over an
image of the deceased made of kooshŭ grass. Immediately after
death the attendants lay out the body on a sheet, placing two pieces
of wood under the head and feet; after which they anoint the corpse
with clarified butter, bathe it with the water of the Ganges, put
round the loins a new garment, and another over the left shoulder,
and then draw the sheet on which the body lies over the whole. The
heir-at-law next bathes himself, puts on new garments, and boils
some rice, a ball of which and a lighted brand he puts to the mouth
of the deceased, repeating incantations. The pile having been
prepared he sets fire to it, and occasionally throws on it clarified
butter and other combustibles. When the body is consumed he
washes the ashes into the river; the attendants bathe, and
presenting a drink-offering to the deceased, return home: before
they enter the house, however, each one touches fire and chews
some bitter leaves, to signify that parting with relations by death is
an unpleasant task.”
The rites for the repose of the soul, the offerings made in a
person’s name after his decease, and the ceremonies which take
place on the occasion, are called his shraddhŭ; which the Hindūs are
very anxious to perform in a becoming manner. The son who
performs these rites obtains great merit; the deceased is satisfied,
and by gifts to the Brahmāns in his name he obtains heaven.
The Hindū shastrŭs teach that after death the soul becomes prétŭ,
a departed ghost,—namely, takes a body about the size of a person’s
thumb, and remains in the custody of Yŭmŭ, the judge of the dead.
At the time of receiving punishment the body becomes enlarged,
and is made capable of enduring sorrow. The performance of the
rites for the repose of the soul, delivers the deceased at the end of a
year from this state, and translates him to the heaven of the Pitrees,
where he enjoys the reward of his meritorious actions, and
afterwards in another body, enters into that state which the nature
of his former actions assign to him. If the shraddhŭ be not
performed the deceased remains in the prétŭ state, and cannot
enter another body.
There are three shraddhŭs for the dead: one, eleven days after
the death; another, every month; and another, at the close of a year
after a person’s decease. During the ten days of mourning the
relatives hold a family council, and consult on the means of
performing the shraddhŭ; on the last of these days, after making an
offering for the dead by the side of the river, they are shaved. On
the next day after the performance of numerous ceremonies, and
offerings made to the priests, the son goes into the house, and
placing a Brahmān and his wife on a seat, covers them with
ornaments, worships them, and adding a large present of money,
dismisses them. After this the son of the deceased requests five
Brahmāns to offer a male calf, in doing which they take two cloths
each, four poitas, four betel-nuts, and some kourees, and go with
the company to a spot where an altar has been prepared, one cubit
high, and four cubits square. Four of the Brahmāns sit on the four
sides of the altar, and there worship certain gods, and offer a burnt
sacrifice. Near the altar are placed the shalgramŭ, four female
calves, a male calf, and a vilwŭ post. The fifth Brahmān reads a
portion of a poorană, to drive away evil spirits. The female calves
are tied to four vilwŭ posts, and the male calf to a post called vrishŭ
post. To the necks of the cow-calves four small slender baskets are
suspended, in which are placed, among other things, a comb, and
the iron instrument with which Hindū women blacken their eyelids. A
sheet of metal is placed under the belly of the bull-calf,—on the back
a sheet of copper: the hoofs are covered with silver, and the horns
with gold, if the shraddhŭ be performed by a rich man. On the hips
of the bull-calf marks of Shivŭ’s trident are impressed with a hot
iron. After this the son of the deceased washes the tail of the bull-
calf, and with the same water presents a drink-offering to his
deceased ancestors: and afterwards marries the bull-calf to the four
cow-calves, repeating many formulas, in which they are
recommended to cultivate love and mutual sympathy. The son next
liberates the cow-calves, forbidding any one to detain them, or
partake of their milk in future. In liberating the male calf, he says, “I
have given thee these four wives, live with them! Thou art the living
image of Yŭmŭ; thou goest upon four legs. Devour not the corn of
others, &c.” The cow-calves are generally taken by Brahmāns, the
bull-calf is let loose, to go where he pleases: these bulls wander
about, and are treated by the Hindūs with great respect; no one can
claim any redress for the injury they do, and no Hindū dare destroy
them. The English call them “Brahmanī bulls.” There are various
other rites too numerous to detail, and the sums are enormous
which at times are spent on the shraddhŭ.
The funeral rites of the Romans and those of the Hindūs are not
very dissimilar. The Romans paid the greatest attention to them,
because they believed that the souls of the unburied were not
admitted into the abodes of the dead; or at least wandered a
hundred years along the river Styx, before they were allowed to
cross it; for which reason, if the bodies of their friends could not be
found, they erected to them an empty tomb (cenotaphium), at
which they performed the usual solemnities; and to want the due
rites was esteemed the greatest misfortune. The nearest relation
closed the eyes and mouth of the deceased, and when the eyes
were closed they called upon the deceased by name several times at
intervals: the corpse was then laid on the ground, bathed, and
anointed with perfumes. The body, dressed in the best attire which
the deceased had worn when alive, was laid on a couch in the
vestibule, with the feet outwards; the couch was sometimes decked
with leaves and flowers. A small coin (triens vel obolus) was put in
his mouth, which he might give to Charon for his freight. The
Romans at first usually interred their dead, which is the most ancient
and most natural method. They early adopted the custom of burning
(cremandi vel comburendi) from the Greeks, which is mentioned in
the laws of Numa, and of the twelve tables, but it did not become
general till towards the end of the republic. Numa forbade his own
body to be burned, according to the custom of the Romans, but he
ordered it to be buried near Mount Janiculum, with many of the
books which he had written. Sylla was the first of the Patrician
branch of the gens Cornelia that was burnt; which is supposed to
have been in accordance with his wishes; for, having ordered the
remains of Marius to be taken out of his grave, and thrown into the
river Anio, he was apprehensive of the same insult. Sylla died a.d.
78. Pliny ascribes the first institution of burning among the Romans
to their having discovered that the bodies of those who fell in distant
wars were dug up by the enemy. Under the emperors it became
almost universal, but was afterwards gradually dropped upon the
introduction of Christianity, so that it had fallen into disuse about the
end of the fourth century. On the day of the funeral, when the
people were assembled, the body was carried out with the feet
foremost on a couch, covered with rich cloth, and supported
commonly on the shoulders of the nearest relations of the deceased
or of his heirs. Poor citizens were carried to the funeral pile in a plain
bier or coffin, usually by four bearers: the funeral couches were
sometimes open and sometimes covered. Torches were used both at
funerals and marriages. The funeral procession was regulated by a
person called Designator, attended by lictors, dressed in black, with
their fasces inverted; sometimes, also, by the officers and troops,
with their spears pointing to the ground. First, went musicians of
various kinds,—then, mourning women, hired to lament and sing the
funeral song; next came players and buffoons, who danced and
sang; one of them, called Archimimus, supported the character of
the deceased, imitating his words and actions while alive; then
followed the freedmen. Before the corpse were carried images of the
deceased, and of his ancestors, on long poles or frames, but not of
such as had been condemned for any heinous crime, whose images
were broken. Behind the corpse walked the friends of the deceased
in mourning,—his sons with their heads veiled, and his daughters
with their heads bare, and their hair dishevelled, contrary to the
ordinary custom of both; the magistrates without their badges, the
nobility without their ornaments. The nearest relations sometimes
tore their garments, and covered their hair with dust, or pulled it
out; the women, in particular, who attended the funeral, beat their
breasts and tore their cheeks, although this was forbidden by the
twelve tables. At the funeral of an illustrious citizen the corpse was
carried through the forum, where the procession stopped, and a
funeral oration (laudatio) was delivered in praise of the deceased
from the rostra, by his son, or by some near relation or friend. The
honour of a funeral oration was decreed also to women, old or
young, married or unmarried. From the forum the corpse was
carried to the place of burning or burial, which the law of the twelve
tables ordered to be without the city,—Hominem mortuum in urbe
ne sepelito, neve urito,—according to the customs of other nations;
the Jews, the Athenians, and others. The Romans prohibited burning
or burying in the city, both from sacred and civil considerations, and
that the air might not be infected. The vestal virgins were buried in
the city, and some illustrious men, which right their posterity
retained, but did not use.
The funeral pile (rogus vel pyra) was built in the form of an altar,
with four equal sides; hence called ara sepulchri, funeris ara, of
wood which might easily catch fire, as fir, pine, cleft oak, unpolished,
according to the law of the twelve tables, rogum ascia ne polito, but
not always so; also stuffed with paper and pitch, made higher or
lower according to the rank of the deceased (hence rogus plebeius),
with cypress-trees set around to prevent the noisome smell, and at
the distance of sixty feet from any house. On the funeral pile was
placed the corpse, with the couch; the eyes of the deceased were
opened; the nearest relations kissed the body with tears, and then
set fire to the pile with a lighted torch, turning away their faces
(aversi) to show that they did it with reluctance. They prayed for a
wind to assist the flames, as the Greeks did, and when that
happened it was thought fortunate. They threw into the fire various
perfumes (odores), incense, myrrh, cassia, &c.; also cups of oil and
dishes (dapes vel fercula), with titles marking what they contained:
likewise the clothes and ornaments, not only of the deceased, but
their own; every thing, in short, that was supposed to be agreeable
to the deceased while alive; all these were called munera vel dona.
If the deceased had been a soldier, they threw on the pile his arms,
rewards, and spoils. At the funeral of an illustrious commander the
soldiers made a circuit (decurrebant) three times round the pile,
from right to left (orbe sinistro), with their ensigns inverted, and
striking their weapons on one another to the sound of the trumpet,
all present accompanying them, as at the funeral of Sylla, and of
Augustus, which custom seems to have been borrowed from the
Greeks, was used also by the Carthaginians, and was sometimes
repeated annually at the tomb. As the manes were supposed to be
delighted with blood, various animals, especially such as the
deceased had been fond of, were slaughtered at the pile, and
thrown into it; in ancient times, also men, captives, or slaves, to
which Cicero alludes. Afterwards instead of them, gladiators, called
bustuarii, were made to fight; so amongst the Gauls, slaves and
clients were burnt on the piles of their masters; among the Indians
and Thracians, wives on the piles of their husbands: thus also,
among the Romans, friends testified their affection; as Plotinus to
his patron, Plautius to his wife Orestilla, soldiers to Otho, Mnester, a
freed-man, to Agrippina.
Instances are recorded of persons who came to life again on the
funeral pile after it had been set on fire, so that it was too late to
rescue them; and of others, who having revived before the pile was
kindled, returned home on their feet. When the pile was burnt down,
the fire was extinguished, and the embers soaked with wine; the
bones were gathered (ossa legebantur) by the nearest relations,
with loose robes, and sometimes barefooted. We also read of the
nearest female relations who were called funeræ vel funereæ,
gathering the bones in their bosom.
The bones and ashes, besprinkled with the richest perfumes, were
put into a vessel called urna, an urn, made of earth, brass, marble,
silver, or gold. Sometimes, also, a small glass vial full of tears, called
by the moderns a lachrymatory, was put in the urn, and the latter
was solemnly deposited in the sepulchre.
When the body was not burnt, it was put into a coffin (arca vel
loculus) with all its ornaments, usually made of stone, as that of
Numa, so of Hannibal; sometimes of Assian stone, from Asses, or -
us, a town in Troas or Mysia, which consumed the body in forty
days, except the teeth, hence called sarcophagus, which word is also
put for any coffin or tomb. The coffin was laid in the tomb on its
back; in what direction among the Romans is uncertain; but among
the Athenians, looking to the west. When the remains of the
deceased were laid in the tomb, those present were three times
sprinkled by a priest with pure water (aqua pura vel lustralis), from a
branch of olive or laurel (aspergillum), to purify them. Then they
were dismissed by the præfica, or some other person, pronouncing
the solemn word ilicet, i.e. ire licet, you may depart. At their
departure, they used to take a last farewell, by repeating several
times vale, or salve æternùm; adding, nos te ordine, qua natura
permiserit, cuncti sequemur. The friends, when they returned home,
as a further purification, after being sprinkled with water, stepped
over a fire (ignem supergrediebantur), which was called suffitio. The
house itself was also purified, and swept with a certain kind of
broom. There were certain ceremonies for the purification of the
family, when they buried a thumb, or some part cut off from the
body before it was burnt, or a bone brought home from the funeral
pile, on which occasion a soldier might be absent from duty. On the
ninth day after the funeral, a sacrifice was performed, called
novendiale, with which these solemnities were concluded.
Oblations or sacrifices to the dead (inferiæ, vel parentalia,) were
afterwards made at various times, both occasionally and at stated
periods, consisting of liquors, victims, and garlands; these oblations
were to appease;—to revenge, an atonement was made to their
ghosts.
The sepulchre was then bespread with flowers, and covered with
crowns and fillets: before it, there was a little altar, on which
libations were made, and incense burnt, and a keeper was appointed
to watch the tomb, which was frequently illuminated with lamps. A
feast was added, called silicernium, both for the dead and the living.
Certain things were laid on the tomb, commonly beans, lettuces,
bread, and eggs, or the like, which it was supposed the ghosts
would come and eat; hence cœna feralis; what remained was burnt;
for it was thought mean to take away any thing thus consecrated, or
what was thrown into the funeral pile. The Romans commonly built
tombs for themselves during their lifetime; if they did not live to
finish them, it was done by their heirs, who were often ordered by
the testament to build a tomb. The highest honours were decreed to
illustrious persons after death. The Romans worshipped their
founder Romulus as a god, under the name of Quirinus. Hence
afterwards the solemn consecration of the emperors, by a decree of
the senate, who were thus said to be ranked in the number of the
gods, also of some empresses: temples and priests were assigned to
them—they were invoked with prayers—men swore by their name or
genius, and offered victims on their altars.
The entrance to the Goomtie river is very narrow, and a bridge of
sixteen boats is placed across it. At Chandroutī is a white temple
much carved—the platform in the centre of the stream stands out
about two feet high—a bamboo was stuck upon it, and several birds
were perched on the stones. The ruins of the temple must have
fallen into the river I suppose, as no ruins are there, only a very few
stones:—this is to be lamented. It must have been very picturesque,
and it also must have pointed out the dangerous spot to vessels.
The navigation is perplexing, but we came through it without any
mischance, and, after a great deal of annoyance, anchored at 10 p.m.
off a village; our time to lugāo the boats has usually been four hours
earlier. The Hindūs, who have had no dinner to-day, must be sick
and weary; we could not get to the bank, on account of the
shallowness of the water until this hour. The Musalmān crew of the
budgerow cook and eat on board; the crews of the woolāk and cook-
boat, being Hindūs, cook and eat on the river-side, that they may
not defile the sacred Gunga.
If you lugāo near a village the chaukidārs come down and guard
your boats; if you anchor on a sandbank you guard your own boats,
and are generally distant from robbers; nevertheless, care is
required through the night, and a watch should be set on each
vessel during the dark hours.
Five miles above Chandroutī is Bullooah ghāt and ferry on the
right bank,—the banks are formed of kankar rock. Exactly opposite
the ferry, the budgerow struck on a sunken bank, which was very
deep in the water; we were detained upwards of two hours ere she
could be got off; the rudder was unshipped by the manjhī, and after
great labour we were once again afloat, without having sustained
much damage. The river is very shallow, and to find the deep stream
is difficult in a budgerow.
 “Fifty miles above Ghazipūr, or eight above Bullooah ghāt, on the
right bank of the river, is Kye, and its sunken kankar reef—scarcely
avoidable in some dry seasons. Thence due west over the right bank
you may observe the Benares minarets—distant nine miles.” A little
wind aided us, and we lugāoed at 6 p.m. at Rāj ghāt, Benares. A
number of temples and tombs, with the minarets beyond, looked
well in the distance as we approached; but the smoke of the evening
fires on the bank, and the red glare of the setting sun, rendered all
objects indistinct. I walked to see a tomb on the top of the high cliff
a little below Rāj ghāt; it is enclosed by stone walls in a garden, and
is a handsome monument; many tombs are on the outside by the
ravine. It is a very picturesque spot. Thus closed the evening at Rāj
ghāt.
 CHAPTER LXVII.
SKETCHES ON THE GANGES FROM BENARES
TO BINDACHUN.

“at bunarus you should be on your guard against the women, the sacred

bulls, the stairs, and the devotees

[49].”
Benefits arising from a Residence in the Holy City of Kāshī—Kalŭ-Bhoirŭvŭ—The
Snake-Charmers—Gigantic Image of Hunoomān—Brahmanī Bulls—The Ghāts
from the River—Bhīm Singh—Tulsī Altars—Ruins of the Ghāt of the ex-Queen
of Gwalior—A Corpse—Young Idolaters—State Prisoners—The City—Sultanpūr
—Chunar—Picturesque Tree near the Ghāt—Singular Ceremonies—The Deasil
—Turnbull Gunge—Mirzapūr—Beautiful Ghāts and Temples—Carpet
Manufactory—Bindachun.

1844, Dec. 5th.—A friend accompanied me this morning to view

Benares, or, as it is more correctly called, Bunarus: nothing pleases
me more than driving about this city,—the streets, the houses, and
the people are so well worth seeing. “A little to eat, and to live at
Bunarus,” is the wish of a pious Hindū; but a residence at this place
is rather dangerous to any one inclined to violate the laws, as the
following extract will testify:—“Kalŭ-Bhoirŭvŭ is a naked Shivŭ,
smeared with ashes; having three eyes, riding on a dog, and holding
in one hand a horn, and in another a drum. In several places in
Bengal this image is worshipped daily. Shivŭ, under this name, is the
regent of Kāshī (Bunarus). All persons dying at Benares are entitled
to a place in Shivŭ’s heaven; but if any one violate the laws of the
shastrŭ during his residence there, Kalŭ-Bhoirŭvŭ at death grinds
him betwixt two mill-stones.”

THE SNAKE-CHARMERS.
6th.—Some of these people came down to the river-side, and
displayed their snakes before the budgerow; they had two boa
constrictors, one of which was of enormous size; the owner twined it
about his neck after the fashion in which a lady wears her sable boa;
the other, which was on the ground, glided onwards, and the man
pulled it back, as it appeared to be inclined to escape into the water.
They had a number of the cobra di capello, twenty or more, which,
being placed on the ground, reared themselves up, and, spreading
out their hoods, swayed themselves about in a fashion which the
men called dancing, accompanied by the noise of a little hand-drum.
The snake-charmers struck the reptiles with their hands, and the
snakes bit them repeatedly on their hands, as well as on their arms,
bringing the blood at each bite; although the venomous fangs have
been carefully removed, the bite itself must be disagreeable;
nevertheless, the natives appear not to mind it in the least. There
was no trick in the case; I saw a cobra bite his keeper five or six
times on his hand and arm, the man was irritating it on purpose, and
only desisted when he found I was satisfied that there was no
deception. At the conclusion of the exhibition they caught the
cobras, and crammed them all into gharās (earthen vessels); the
boas were carried off in a basket.
In the evening I walked to a dhrumsāla or alms-house on the
bank of the river, a little above Rāj ghāt; it is situated on the top of a
high flight of steps, and is very picturesque. On the steps of the
stone ghāt below is a gigantic image of Hunoomān, made of mud,
and painted according to the most approved fashion. The natives
were very civil, showing me the way to different places, and yet the
Benares people have a bud nām (bad name) in that respect, being
reckoned uncivil to strangers.
On the steps of the ghāt I met a very savage Brahmanī bull; the
beast was snorting and attacking the people,—he ran at me, but
some men drove him off; there were numbers of them in the bazār,
but this was the only savage one I encountered; the rest were going
quietly from gram-stall to gram-stall, apparently eating as much as
they pleased. The merchants would be afraid to drive the holy bulls
away with violence.
7th.—Quitted Rāj ghāt early, and tracked slowly past Benares,
stopping every now and then to take a sketch of those beautiful
ghāts. The minārs rear their slender forms over the city, and it is not
until you attempt to sketch them that their height is so apparent,
and then you gaze in astonishment at them, marvelling at the skill
that has reared structures of such height and elegance, and at the
honesty of the workmen, who have given such permanent cement to
the stones.
 A little farther on is a cluster of Hindū temples of extreme beauty
and most elaborate workmanship, with a fine ghāt close to them;
one of these temples has been undermined by the river, and has
fallen—but not to the ground; it still hangs over the stream,—a most
curious sight. How many temples the Ganges has engulphed I know
not; some six or seven are now either deeply sunk in, or close to the
water, and the next rains will probably swell the river, and undermine
two or three more. A fine ghāt at the side of these has fallen in
likewise.
Above this cluster of falling temples is a very beautiful ghāt, built
of white stone,—I know not its name; but I sketched it from the
boats. It is still uninjured by time, and is remarkable for the beauty
of its turrets, over the lower part of which a palm-tree throws its
graceful branches in the most picturesque manner. On the top of a
small ghāt, just higher than the river, at the bottom of a long flight
of steps, two natives were sitting, shaded from the sun by a large
chatr; groups of people in the water were bathing and performing
their devotions,—many were passing up and down the flight of stone
steps,—whilst others, from the arched gallery above, were hanging
garments of various and brilliant colours to dry in the sun. On the
outside of some of the openings in the bastions straw mats were
fixed to screen off the heat.
Just above this fine structure, on a small ghāt, a little beyond the
minarets, is a gigantic figure in black stone of Bhīm Singh, a deified
giant, of whom it is recorded that he built the fortress of Chunar in
one day, and rendered it impregnable. The giant is represented lying
at full length on his back, his head, adorned with a sort of crown, is
supported on raised masonry; at his right side is erected a small
altar of mud, of conical form, bearing on its top a tulsī plant; the
natives water these plants, and take the greatest care of them. The
tulsī had formerly the same estimation amongst the Hindūs, that the
misletoe had amongst the ancient Britons, and was always worn in
battle as a charm; on which account a warrior would bind a mala of
tulsī beads on his person. The scene was particularly picturesque;
below the ghāt, on which reposed the gigantic hero, were some
native boats; and near them was a man dipping a piece of cloth
embroidered in crimson and gold into the water; while, with a
brilliant light and shade, the whole was reflected in the Ganges.
A little distance beyond I observed a number of small ghāts rising
from the river, on each of which a similar conical tulsī altar was
erected, and generally, at the side of each, the flag of a fakīr was
displayed from the end of a long thin bamboo. A man who appeared
to be a mendicant fakīr, came down to the river-side, carrying in one
hand a long pole, and in the other one joint of a thick bamboo,
which formed a vessel for holding water, and from this he poured
some of the holy stream of the Ganges on the little shrub goddess
the tulsī.
In the midst of hundreds and hundreds of temples and ghāts,
piled one above another on the high cliff, or rising out of the
Ganges, the mind is perfectly bewildered; it turns from beauty to
beauty, anxious to preserve the memory of each, and the amateur
throws down the pencil in despair. Each ghāt is a study; the intricate
architecture, the elaborate workmanship, the elegance and lightness
of form,—an artist could not select a finer subject for a picture than
one of these ghāts. How soon Benares, or rather the glory of
Benares—its picturesque beauty—will be no more! Since I passed
down the river in 1836 many temples and ghāts have sunk,
undermined by the rapid stream.
The Bāiza Bā’ī’s beautiful ghāt has fallen into the river,—perhaps
from its having been undermined, perhaps from bad cement having
been used. Her Highness spared no expense; probably the masons
were dishonest, and that fine structure, which cost her fifteen lākh
to rear a little above the river, is now a complete ruin.
The ghāt of Appa Sāhib is still in beauty, and a very curious one at
the further end of Benares, dedicated to Mahadēo, is still uninjured;
a number of images of bulls carved in stone are on the parapet of
the temple, and forms of Mahadēo are beneath, at the foot of the
bastions.
 We loitered in the budgerow for above six hours amongst the
ghāts, which stretch, I should imagine, about three miles along the
left bank of the Ganges.
At the side of one of the ghāts on the edge of the river sat a
woman weeping and lamenting very loudly over the pile of wood
within which the corpse of some relative had been laid; the friends
were near, and the pile ready to be fired. I met a corpse yesterday in
the city, borne on a flat board; the body and the face were covered
closely with bright rose-coloured muslin, which was drawn so tightly
over the face that its form and features were distinct; and on the
face was sprinkled red powder and silver dust; perhaps the dust was
the pounded talc, which looks like silver.
How soon the young Hindūs begin to comprehend idolatry! A
group of children from four to seven years old were at play; they
had formed with mud on the ground an image of Hunoomān, after
the fashion of those they had seen on the river-side; and they had
made imitations of the sweetmeat (pera) in balls of mud, to offer to
their puny idol.
I was at Benares eight years ago (in November, 1836); the river
since that time has undermined the ghāts, and has done so much
damage, that, in another ten years, if the Ganges encroach at an
equal rate, but little will remain of the glory of the most holy of the
Hindū cities. The force of the stream now sets full upon the most
beautiful cluster of the temples on its banks; some have been
engulphed, some are falling, and all will fall ere long; and of the
Bāiza Bā’ī’s ghāt, which was so beautiful when last I visited the
place, nothing now remains but the ruins! Her Highness objected
greatly to the desire of the Government, to force her to live in this
holy city: poor lady! her destiny exemplifies the following saying
—“He who was hurt by the bel (its large fruit falling on his head)
went for refuge to the bābūl, (the prickles of which wounded his
feet,) and he that was hurt by the bābūl fled to the bel[50].”
The Rajah of Sattara resides a state prisoner at Bunarus.
 A buggy is to be hired at Secrole for four rupees eight ānās a day,
which is preferable to a palanquin: in visiting the city the better way
is to quit your buggy, and proceed in a tānjān, if you wish to see the
curious and ancient buildings to advantage.
I am so much fagged with the excitement of the day, gazing and
gazing again, that I can write no more, and will finish this account
with an extract from the “Directory.” “Benares on the left bank is
considered as the most holy city in India, and is certainly one of the
most handsome when viewed at a distance on the river, there being
such numerous stone ghāts and temples, some of which cost
seventeen lākh of rupees. It is the residence of some native princes,
pensioners of the Hon. East India Company, but their dwellings are
divided into so many little chambers or pigeon-holes, that the
internal part of the city has the appearance of a mass of mean
buildings, piled up without any regard to order and appearance, and
narrow filthy lanes instead of streets.
“There is a large enclosed mart, called a chauk, which opens at 5
p.m., where trinkets, toys, birds, cloth, and coarse hardware are
exposed for sale. It has a large well in it, and is also a resort for
native auctions. Close to the chauk is the principal alley or mart for
gulbadan, a very fine silk of various patterns worn by natives as
trowsers; also fine caps with tinselled crowns, and very elegant gold
and silver embroidery; also scarfs and turbans, and pieces for fancy
head-dresses. There is likewise a traveller’s chauk, or native inn, and
a large horse mart, where very fine horses, of the Turkī, Persian, and
Cabul breeds are procurable,—as high as eight, ten, or fifteen
thousand rupees,—that are brought here by the fruit-carriers, who
bring grapes and pears from those countries. Here are several
miniature painters, and also venders of miniatures on ivory, said to
be likenesses of different native princes, their queens, and nāch
girls; and also true likenesses of native servants in costume,
tradesmen, and beggars. Delhi jewellery of the best gold is brought
on board the steamers by sending for the dealers. Here is also an
old observatory, and two very high and slender minarets, one of
which has a slight inclination; travellers ascending them are
expected to give to the keeper the fee of a rupee. From their tops is
a fine view of the city, the adjacent country, and the river,—so
gratifying a sight should not be passed over by any traveller.
Provisions are procurable; partridges, quail, and wild ducks of all
sorts, are to be obtained. Steamers remain at Rāj ghāt to take in
passengers, to discharge and take in packages, and to receive coals.
The civil and military station is about four miles inland, direct from
Rāj ghāt, where reside the commissioner, the judge, the magistrates,
the collectors, the general, and all the officers of the native
regiments quartered here, and some European artillery.
“Letters must be sent for to the post-office, as they are not
forwarded, which is very inconvenient. The city is about two miles
long: the natives are very uncivil to strangers. Numerous fanatics are
here, who drown themselves, believing that the holy Ganga and the
city of the most holy secures them eternal happiness. Benares is
from Calcutta, viâ Bhagirathī, 696 miles; viâ Sunderbands, 984; and
by land or dāk, 428. Letters take four days, banjhīs seven days.
Palanquins are procurable here, but they are infested with vile
vermin.”
So much for the “Directory,” from which I differ. So far from the
distant view of the city giving you the best idea of it,—it is not until
you are in the midst of and close to the various and beautiful ghāts
and temples just beyond the minārs that you can have an idea of
the beauty of Benares. The best conveyance in which to visit and
sketch the ghāts is a small boat with an awning.
We passed the residence of the Raja of Benares at Ramnagar, one
mile and a half above the city; it is a handsome native palace.
8th.—Passed Chhotā Kalkata, or Sultanpūr-Benares: it is a native
cavalry station, seventeen miles above Benares on the left bank of
the river. Steamers bring to here occasionally, for a few minutes, to
land passengers. It has a kankarī or rocky point, that is very
awkward for native boats,—as also for steamers, owing to a narrow
channel and strong currents; the point is off the cavalry stables,
which are called Little Calcutta.
 On our arrival at Chunar we moored the boats at the request of
the sarhang, as the dandīs wished to go on shore to buy and sell in
the bazār; they carry on a regular traffic at all the stations up the
river, and gain a heavy profit on their Calcutta lanterns, pankhas,
bundles of cane, cheeses, pickles, and a variety of articles. Chunar is
famous for its tobacco, and the men were anxious to lay in a stock
for sale at other places.
At a short distance from the landing-place, and to the left of it, is
a fine peepul-tree (Ficus religiosa), at the foot of which are a
number of idols in stone, placed in an erect position, supported by
the trunk. A native woman placed some flowers upon the idols, and
poured Ganges water over them from an earthen vessel (a gharā),
which she carried on her head. Another was performing a religious
and superstitious ceremony, called pradakshina,—that is, she was
walking a certain number of times round and round the peepul-tree,
with the right hand towards it, as a token of respect, with
appropriate abstraction and prayers, in the hope of beautiful
offspring. For this reason, also, the Ficus indica is subject to
circumambulation. The same ceremony is mentioned in the
“Chronicles of the Canongate:” the old sibyl, Muhme, says to Robin
Oig, “So let me walk the deasil round you, that you may go safe into
the far foreign land, and come safe home.” “She traced around him,
with wavering steps, the propitiation, which some have thought has
been derived from the Druidical mythology. It consists, as is well
known, in the person who makes the deasil walking three times
round the person who is the object of the ceremony, taking care to
move according to the course of the sun.” Near the peepul-tree was
an Hindū temple built of stone, but most excessively disfigured by
having been painted red; and next to it was a smaller one of white
stone. The whole formed a most picturesque subject for the pencil.
Thence I proceeded to the Fort of Chunar, and walked on the
ramparts: the little churchyard below was as tranquil as ever, but the
tombs having become dark and old, the beauty of the scene was
greatly diminished. The Ganges is undermining even the rock on
which the fortress is built. The birds’-nests, formed of mud, built
under the projections of the black rock on which it stands, are
curious; and on some parts of the rock, just above the river, small
Hindū images are carved. The “Directory” gives the following
account of the place:—“On the right bank, about four miles above
Sultanpūr, is Chunar, an invalid station, with a fortification, on an
isolated rocky hill, which projects into the river, forming a very nasty
point to pass in the rains. It completely commands the river, and is
used as a place of confinement for state prisoners. There are several
detached rocky hills or stone quarries here. It is a very sickly place,
owing to the heat arising from the stone, which causes fever and
disease of the spleen. This is a great place for snakes. A little above
the fort is a temple: tradition states it to contain a chest, which
cannot be opened unless the party opening it lose his hand,—four
thieves having so suffered once in an attempt upon it. Very fine
black and red earthenware may be purchased here,—such as wine
coolers, which, being filled with water after the bottle is inserted,
and set out in the draft of the hot easterly winds (none other serves
the purpose), in the shade, cools the confined liquor as much as
iceing it: the cooler must be dried daily. Also, red sandy water-
holders or suries, which keep water very cool; black butter pots, with
a casing for water, very neatly finished; and large black double urns,
to contain bread, and keep it moist. Steamers seldom stop here
more than ten minutes.”
The Padshah Begam, the Queen of Ghazee-ood-Deen Hydur, and
Moona Jāh, are in this fortress state prisoners.
Moored our vessels off Turnbull Gunge. Of all the native villages I
have seen this is the most healthy-looking; it consists of one very
long broad road or street, with houses on each side, built after the
native fashion, but on a regular plan; and on each side the road a
line of fine trees shade the people as they sit selling their goods in
the verandahs of their houses.
The Gunge was built by a Mr. Turnbull, a medical man, who made
a large fortune in India when medical men were allowed to trade;
the place bears his name, and is situated about two miles higher up
the river than Chunar.
9th.—A little beyond Turnbull Gunge is a white mandāp (temple),
on the right bank; the top of the spire has been broken off, and it
stands by a fine peepul-tree. Just in front of it a bank of hard red
mud runs out into the river; the budgerow ran upon it with such
violence that many things in the cabin were upset; after this little
fright we proceeded very well. The dandīs were particularly
miserable on account of the rain; almost every man had clothed
himself in a red jacket; for these cast-off military jackets they had
given a rupee apiece; they were very proud of them, and afraid of
getting them wetted. They wore below the usual native dhotī—i.e. a
piece of linen, in lieu of trowsers, above which the European red
coat had a curious effect. Anchored on a very fine sandbank in the
midst of the river; here we found a chaukidār under a straw thatch,
ready for vessels.
10th.—“Seven miles above Chunar, on the right bank, is the village
of Kutnac, with rocky bottom and hard lumps of earth in the river; a
little above is a ravine, which is to be avoided by all boats.”
“Fourteen miles above Chunar is the crossing ferry of the Benares
grand road, and of Kitwa and Bhundoolee to Mirzapūr; thence to the
latter place is a fine road, distance seven miles and a half by land,
and sixteen by water.
“Ten miles above the ferry, and seven below Mirzapūr, on the left
bank, is Bhajoan, with a white tomb and a patch of kankar in the
river, on which many boats are lost: hence the cantonments of
Mirzapūr are visible.
“Mirzapūr, a military cantonment, is two miles below the city and
the civil station: the judge’s, the magistrates’, and the collector’s
offices are one mile below the city. The steamer stops at the agency
ghāt at the lower end of the city. This place is noted for a cotton
mart and cotton manufactory; as likewise for shell lac, lac dye, and
hardware in a small way. Many boats are here at all seasons. The
city is very confined, dirty, and subject to great sickness: there are
two or three very fine stone ghāts here, and some small temples and
minarets: bread, butter, eggs, mutton, lamb, kid, veal, and fowls, are
procurable. Mirzapūr is from Calcutta, viâ Bhagirathī, 748 miles; viâ
Sunderbands, 1036 miles; and by dāk route, 455. The dāk takes five
days, and banjhī eight days to run. Steamers having plenty of cargo
to land are generally detained here four or five hours.”
The river has given us some trouble to-day, and we have
grounded many times. The white houses of the Mirzapūr
cantonments stretch along the right bank on a very high cliff; the
church, a very elegant building, was planned by Colonel Edward
Smith,—the spire rises just above the ghāt of the civil station. The
manjhī of our vessel wished to anchor there, but we pushed on to
the city, and lugāoed on the other side the river, close to a fine
house, the residence of the Raja of Ramnager. We did not like to
anchor at the stone ghāt of the city, on account of the noise, smoke,
and heat produced by a crowd of native boats: this will be pleasant:
I can be up top dāghī (gun-fire) to-morrow morning, and sketch the
ghāts. In the mean time the sandbank by which we are moored is
cool, pleasant, and quiet. Now for English letters!
11th.—We found we ought to have stopped at the ghāt off
Cantonments, as there bread, butter, meat, &c., could be procured;
but what cared I for such creature comforts when I saw the ghāts in
the early morning? We crossed the river, and I went out to sketch
them. There are two fine ones, built of stone, that lie close together,
and a number of temples are upon them,—placed at intervals upon
the cliff, from the river to the top of the high bank, and very
beautiful they are.
The first sketch comprehended the ghāts that rise out of the river;
on their steps of stone, multitudes of people, in the gay attire of the
East, were ascending and descending for pūja and bathing, and to
bring water up for domestic purposes; the scene was particularly
animated. On the steps of the ghāt was a large awning, formed of
mats, and supported by bamboos, under which the natives were
sitting and conversing, while it screened them from the sun. Upon
the river-side were several square platforms erected on four
bamboos, with great stones beneath to support them; and on the
top of the poles were large jhāmps—that is, mats of straw, which
protected the people sitting inside from the rays of the sun; these
platforms were used as booths, and in them sweetmeats were
displayed for sale. Half-way up the cliff were three small temples,
with fine trees in the background, in front of which stretched the
high bank along the side of the Ganges.
The second sketch of the same ghāt was taken half-way up the
cliff; on the right are the three small temples above alluded to,
which form part of a group of singular beauty and varied form. A
large shiwala or temple dedicated to Mahadēo is next to them, and a
smaller, separated only by an archway, adjoins it; on the portico of
the latter a fakīr’s staff and flag were erected. The branches of fine
trees were in the background, the cliffs were abrupt, and the vessels
on the Ganges were in the distance. In front of the doorway of the
larger temple the holy bull, (the vehicle of Mahadēo,) was couchant
on a small ghāt erected for the purpose.
The third sketch was taken from the top of the cliff looking up the
river: it consists of a large shiwala or temple of Mahadēo, with a
second in front which forms a portico, beneath which Nandi the holy
bull reposes couchant; to the side is the spire of a temple that rises
from below. The Ganges adds to the beauty of the scene, and some
branches of large trees in the background adorn the temple. No
mandāp have I ever seen so elaborately carved or so beautiful; from
the basement to the pinnacle it is a mass of intricate sculpture,
united with great elegance of design. It is covered with images of
the gods, carved in stone. A little kid, which had just been offered to
the idol, was frisking about the temple, unconscious of how soon he
would be served up as a feast for the Brahmāns. Kid is eaten by
Hindūs at particular times, and the priests consider the offerings as
holy food.
 There is another handsome stone ghāt a little further up the river,
with nine temples upon it; and many are the picturesque spots along
the banks of the Ganges. Mirzapūr is famous for its manufactory of
carpets, which are often sent to England; and large vessels in
hundreds were off the city. We proceeded on our voyage, and
lugāoed at Bindachun.