Our next destination was Benares. I had for long had the feeling, from the descriptions one had read and the photographs one had seen of this wonderful place, that it would sum up and centralise, as it were, to the eye the whole life of the Indian people, while it would also be a symbol of their faith to the mind.

It was, therefore, with unusual anticipations that we turned our faces thither, and on the 21st of January took the early morning train from Lucknow to the great focus of Hindu worship on the sacred Ganges. The kind commissioner’s native servant, in scarlet, awaited us at the station with a parting gift and a note of introduction to the Maharajah of Benares.

The train passed through a richer and more fruitful country than usual, but level, plain all the way, reaching Benares Cantonment about two o’clock. We drove to Clark’s hotel, which has a pretty portico full of palms, and a splendid orange creeper, then in full flower, hung over the usual bungalow annexe. The house was quiet, and had a semi-private aspect, more like a country bungalow.

Finding the Maharajah’s palace was some five or six miles off and on the other side of the river, we were advised to leave our letter at the Guest House with our cards. The Guest House was quite near by. Continuing our drive through the bazaar we thought the main street wider than most of the native cities, but the bazaars did not look so busy, and many shops were vacant. Balconies, the roofs of which were supported on arcades of slender columns with Hindu caps, were of a different type to those hitherto seen. In the European quarter there were poorly-designed, would-be Gothic British buildings, and mission churches of the usual bald type. There was a Queen’s Park with the commonplace iron railing and low stone parapet enclosing it, these innovations, as usual, quite spoiling the surroundings of a native city.

The next morning we had a visit from the Maharajah’s private secretary, who invited us to drive in the afternoon to visit the Buddhist topes and sculptures at Sarnath about five miles from Benares. An American lady we had previously met was to be of the party, and she was staying at the Guest House, and at the appointed hour the Maharajah’s carriage, with a coachman in a green and gold turban and scarlet tunic, and two active young Hindus, similarly dressed, acted as running footmen to clear the way, when not at their posts standing at the back of the carriage. We called at the Guest House for our American friend. It was a more palatial building than the one at Gwalior, standing in a small park with outer gates and a drive. The house was in the classic style—a white building with flat roof and columned portico. In the large hall on the ground floor there was a small coloured statuette of the Maharajah on horseback, photographs and portraits upon the walls, including English miniatures of an English officer and his ladies of the early nineteenth century, and some engravings of portraits of Queen Caroline. A stuffed lioness was lying on a side-board.

The road to Sarnath lay through avenues of fine trees a great part of the way, chiefly mangoes, banyans, acacias, and tamarinds. The young trees planted to fill the gaps were protected by circular fences, sometimes topped by prickly pears. Sometimes the circular fence was made of bricks, an aperture being left between every alternate brick.

At Sarnath we saw the results of recent excavations. There was a wonderful pillar made out of a single piece of marble, but fractured in digging it out. One part stood upright in the earth, the other lay horizontally. The top or cap was placed under an awning near by. It was formed of four lions facing outwards, their heads, chests, and fore limbs being alone visible, their claws resting on the rim of a circular fillet, on which was sculptured in low relief a horse, an elephant, a lion, and a bull, each animal being placed between a wheel of a solar character, each wheel having twenty-four spokes. Below this fillet was a curved drooping fringe of leaves such as are characteristic in Persian columns as well as Hindu. The marble of which the column and the sculptures were made was of a peculiar greyish almost of a flesh colour, with small spots. Both the column and the sculptures were very highly polished, and the treatment of the lions was remarkably Greek in character with perhaps a touch of Persian or even Assyrian formalism in the treatment of the heads and manes of the lions. The animals in relief, between the wheels, too, were remarkably free, spirited, and well modelled.

There were the remains of an ancient Buddhist temple near. In what was probably the inner shrine was a sculptured standing figure of Buddha, about two-thirds life size, in alto relievo. The figure was represented in a long robe, the limbs being boldly expressed through the drapery, which hung broadly and smoothly over them, without folds, except at the sides, which were treated in the rather formal spiral manner of early Greek work.

The American lady remarked on seeing this figure that “The gentleman seems to have put his legs through his clothes.”

The figure was framed in a border of astralagus, cut in low relief, having a running escalloped border outside it and stepped mouldings. The doorway to this shrine, too, had a richly carved bordering.

There were many most interesting fragments collected together in and around a building near. In the court was a large circular carved stone. This was called Buddha’s umbrella, and its original position was over the head of a large figure of the saint, sculptured in the round, close by. The design of the umbrella, a lotus flower, the flower of life, the petals radiating from the centre, and enclosing this were a series of concentric rings of pattern; the first consisted of rosettes, or smaller lotus flowers, alternating with grotesque lions, winged horses, elephants, camels, and bulls; the next showed the anthemion, doubled or reversed, alternating with the fylfot or gammadion ?, and another form frequent in early Greek pattern (as well as Chinese) the geometric four-petalled flower. There were numerous small figures of Buddha here, treated in a similar way to the one first mentioned, as well as other sculptures of a Hindu type, resembling those at Ellora.

There we saw the great Tope (called the Dhamek). This stood on rather higher ground, and was apparently built of rubble, which was exposed at the top, but the sides were covered with fine bands of carved ornament in stone, carried to a considerable height, and consisting of a frieze of bold scroll work of a Greek character, alternating with bands of a kind of Chinese-like diagonal diaper, divided by plain belts of stone. At intervals these bands were intersected by flat dome-shaped forms slightly projecting beyond the bands, and in these were recesses intended, no doubt, originally to contain seated figures of Buddha. These flat dome-shaped forms, connected by bands, suggested a palisade, which may have been the original way of enclosing and protecting these topes or tombs; and they may also have been the early form or prototype of the curious clustered dome-shaped pinnacles which are multiplied to form the spires of Jain temples so often seen in India.

Sarnath is the place where Buddha began to preach, and the great tope is supposed to mark the spot where his first sermon was delivered. The excavations of General Cunningham here disclose the fragments of a great city which probably stood here about 2000 years ago.

Returning to Benares from this intensely interesting spot, we dined at the Guest House with our American friend. The rooms were luxuriously upholstered and furnished from Europe, and were occupied by the Prince and Princess of Wales when they were here in 1905. The dinner was excellently cooked and served by native attendants, with the choicest wines and liquors.

There were some lovely old Indian miniatures on vellum framed and hanging on the wall of one of the salons, representing various scenes in the life of a Maharajah—a cock-fight, polo, reception of a foreign embassy (in Dutch seventeenth century costume), and other subjects, each full of charming details of architecture, dress and decoration. Besides these there were the usual official photographic groups, showing English officers, princes, and governor-generals grouped around the Maharajah—in one the Czar of Russia appeared. Indian carpets were on the floor, and English sporting prints on the walls of the dining-room.

The next day, January 23rd, His Highness’s secretary had arranged to send a carriage for us quite early (about 7 A.M.), to take us to see the ghats. When we reached the river side, which is a considerable drive from the Guest House, we found a beautiful state barge awaiting us. It was shaped and painted like a peacock, and had a little pavilion in the centre. In this lovely vessel we embarked, and glided slowly down the river with the stream, guided by the scarlet-jacketed oarsmen, with their long bamboo handled oars, and a broad steering paddle at the stern.

The spectacle of Benares from a boat on the Ganges is perhaps the most extraordinary sight in all India. At every ghat or opening to the river, down the great flights of steps, a throng of natives in all the colours of the rainbow press to the water’s edge. Some plunge in, some approach timidly, and very gradually submerge themselves. Their brown skins shining in the water. The men always have some sort of waist cloth on, but the women go in in their garments, or, at least, clad to their waists. All ages are there—it recalled the mediÆval allegories of the Fountain of Youth. One does not often see infants dipped, though they are, occasionally, by their parents, and object to the water in the same natural and vigorous manner as European babies are apt to do at their baptism.

Old tottering women and men may be seen, as well as the young, strong and vigorous, all earnestly washing, or performing strange genuflexions with the most determined devotion. Characteristic features of this wonderful scene are the large matting umbrellas of the priests, who sit on small platforms of bamboo raised on the steps. These expect fees to be paid them by those who come to bathe at the ghats. Rows of snake charmers greet the traveller on landing at the ghats, who turn hissing cobras out of circular boxes and hold them aloft or twine them round their necks, or perhaps, as an extra attraction, empty out a swarm of scorpions to catch the eye of the stranger, all eager to perform the marvels of their art on the slightest encouragement—and a few rupees. Sacred zebu bulls wander about and often lie on the steps.

It seems strange that people should lave and drink of the water, which is fouled one would suppose by all sorts of impurities at the margin. Washing of clothes goes on everywhere, decayed flowers float along, even bodies of drowned dogs are seen occasionally. It must have been at Benares that Æsop’s fable of the two pots was born, for there the earthen and brazen vessels might quite possibly float down the stream together. Pots are scoured on the steps, and at the Burning Ghat they pour the ashes of the dead into the river.

At the Burning Ghat they pile up logs of wood to form the pyre, and the white turbaned dark figures, with nothing on but waist cloths, are kept busy at their ghastly work. Some of the bodies are brought down with flowers and chanting: others lie there with no following or ceremony: some are swathed in red or white cloth like mummies, others as they were born are lifted on to the piles of logs, which being set alight, soon reduce all to the same condition. Some of the bodies are carefully dipped in the Ganges before being burned, and are often left at the water’s edge while the pyre is being prepared. Wood was placed over as well as under the bodies, and a torch was put to the mouth. Other bodies, again, are taken out in boats unburned and apparently dressed and seated in chairs, and suddenly in mid-stream are toppled over into the water. We saw an old man disposed of in this way. Our boatman pointed him out as a specially holy person, and we did not realise he was a corpse. The bodies of infants, swathed in white, are also treated in this way.

The Maharajah’s secretary explained that the Ganges water had been analysed by European experts and pronounced to be the best water in the world, having a peculiar property of destroying the germs of disease. It was difficult, however, to see how even “the best water” could avoid getting fouled with such operations constantly going on; but of course there is a strong stream all the time, so that everything must eventually be carried down to the sea.

A continuous many-coloured stream of pilgrims, bearing huge bundles of bedding, were constantly moving along behind this busy life of the bathing ghats, ascending or descending the great flights of steps leading up through the various gates to the city. It seemed to be part of that universal exodus we had witnessed at every railway station in India. It is said that representatives from every village in the peninsula may be found at Benares. Then, as a no less striking background to these extraordinary human groups, rise the domes of temples and minarets of palaces, their golden vanes and finials glittering against the deep blue sky. Windows, balconies and terraces placed high up, with vast walls below them. These great walls, which give so much distinction and breadth to the river front of Benares, have a practical reason, inasmuch as it is a necessity thus to raise the temple and palace floors, owing to the sudden rising of the Ganges in the rainy season, when these walls are sometimes hidden in the waters.

The musical accompaniments of the spectacle consist in the weird and wandering notes which issue from the temples, produced by a sort of hautboy, and the subdued thud of the tom-toms. I saw a dusky long-haired fakir stand on the steps at the Mahikarunika ghat and sound a long straight brass trumpet.

After voyaging in the peacock boat the whole length of the ghats, we returned to our carriage-in-waiting at a convenient point from which to approach the Golden Temple. From the main street of the Bazaar we were conducted by the secretary down a very narrow passage crowded with worshippers, and then up a dark staircase to a terrace from which we could see the cluster of gilded copper domes. Afterwards in the sacred precincts we saw the “well of knowledge,” but did not drink of it, having too much foreknowledge of the condition of its water.

Our next excursion was to pay a visit to the Maharajah at his palace. We were conducted by his secretary in the carriage as before, driving to the river side opposite the palace some six miles off. On the road we stopped to see the famous Monkey Temple—a Hindu Temple in an arcaded court of the usual type. This court was full of monkeys—a sandy-brown coloured sort with pink faces, probably Macaques—not so handsome as the wild silver grey ones we had seen at Ahmedabad. They accepted offerings, but not so greedily, as they were evidently well fed, and dried peas lay about untouched. They gambolled about the temple at their sweet will. These monkeys are sacred to Vishnu, and represent Hunuman the monkey god.

There was a fine tank with steps to the water’s edge, close by the temple. Just before this we passed the Hindu College which Mrs Annie Besant has established for the higher education of native children of both sexes—but not a mixed school. This work has been liberally endowed by the Maharajah of Benares, who also granted the site. Mrs Besant is the principal, but owing to the illness of Colonel Alcott, she was not then there, being at Madras nursing the Colonel in what proved to be his last illness.

Reaching the river side, a boat was in waiting to take us across to the palace, rowed by two Hindu boys—at least they started rowing, but soon we got into shallows, where they took to poling, and finally had to get out and push the boat along, until getting into deeper water again they rowed us to the palace steps.

It was quite a high steep flight, no doubt existing for the same river reason as the high walls of Benares—to be out of the reach of the floods. There were numbers of natives ascending and descending or grouped on the steps.

We climbed up, and entered the palace up more stairs, and were shown into a large reception salon, where much of the furniture was “under canvas,” but there was one handsome couch displayed, inlaid with ivory. Presently H.H. the Maharajah entered, accompanied by his two chief officers, who spoke English well, his painter in ordinary, and several attendants. Chairs were placed in the centre of the room, around a small marble table. The Maharajah seated himself, and we with the private secretary grouped ourselves about him. The Maharajah was dressed in a small-patterned long tunic of pink brocaded with gold, a small round cap on his head, close fitting white trousers and patent leather shoes. He seemed quite merry and pleased to see us. I showed him my book of sketches, which interested him, as he said he had never seen drawings of the kind before. His painter in ordinary, to whom I was introduced, was also interested, and asked some questions through the secretary, not himself speaking English. He had painted the full length portraits of the Maharajahs which hung aloft in this salon. The Prince presently rose and invited us to the terrace, to which we passed after him, through an arcade, an attendant holding a large silk umbrella over him. There was a very fine view from this terrace up and down the river. The city of Benares, with its domes and minarets, seen far down on the left, and the open plain country opposite. The secretary said that when the Ganges rose the city looked as if it was floating on the surface of the water.

We then all returned to the salon (or Durbar Hall, as I ought to have called it) and took our leave, H.H. presenting us with a book of photographs of the ghats, with his own portrait, both of which he inscribed. Finally he placed necklaces of some kind of gold or gilt tissue around the necks of the ladies, and one of silver-tissue around mine, and concluded by putting scent on our handkerchiefs from a handsome silver bottle.

Before we left the palace the Maharajah’s jewels were shown to us—wonderful strings of rubies and emeralds almost as big as hen’s eggs. These were in rather worn and faded cases of velvet, and offered up on rusty old tea trays—a strange mixture of splendour and squalor.

The secretary then took us by carriage to see a Hindu Temple, covered with sculpture, standing clear on a raised platform ascended by a flight of steps, and surrounded by the usual open court. We saw several fine elephants waiting at a gateway, and afterwards visited the Maharajah’s pleasant flower garden, prettily laid out with long centre tanks, and rose trellises, terraces, and pavilions. From here we soon reached the river side, and embarking in the boat again, returned in the same manner we had come, returning to our quarters in the dusk of the evening, the secretary leaving us at his dwelling at Benares.

The Maharajah having placed a boat and a carriage at our disposal, we arranged to visit the ghats again the next day, especially as I was anxious to obtain a sketch or two of the wonderful scenes by the river. So driving to the steps again we embarked, taking Moonsawmy with us to interpret. I got the boatmen to stop the boat off the Manikaranika Ghat,B which is perhaps the most striking of all, with its red sandstone pinnacles, immense flights of steps and terraces. Here I worked till noon, when one had rather the sensation of everything curling up with the heat of the sun, including one’s own frame! The next morning we again returned to the river, using the Maharajah’s carriage and boat, which latter was not, however, the beautiful peacock barge of our first morning, but a very substantial sort of house-boat, with plenty of space on the upper deck or flat roof of the house, and solid chairs to sit on. This time I chose the Nepal Temple for my subject. This temple, with its pagoda-like roof and shining golden finial, had a Chinese aspect. The temple itself was of a deep rich Indian red, and had a terrace in front on the top of a high wall close to the river, on one side being the entrance to the palace with two minarets. A mass of dark green foliage partly shaded the Temple on the left hand and added to the charm and richness of the subject—the throng of figures on the steps, and the boats rocking on the clear green water, completing the picture at the river’s edge, alive with colour and movement. The procession of pilgrims in an endless line, and the whole human drama going on just as before, and as it has been every day for ages.

The moon was now again bright at nights and it was much warmer. We heard the jackals again as at Udaipur.

We met two London friends at the hotel, and made some pleasant acquaintances—a young American who had been travelling in China and Japan and Java and was going on to Europe; also three young Oxford men, connected with the Oxford Mission, I understood—one of them on his way to take up some official post in Japan.

The roses at Clark’s Hotel were very profuse, a beautiful silver bowl of Benares work full of them each day decorated our table. It was extremely quiet except for the almost continual cry of a bird I could not name, but which at first we thought was a pea-fowl. The note, however, was not hoarse or grating but full and bell-like, though very monotonous, consisting of two notes. We heard this bird everywhere south after Benares.