Chapter XLV: The Ruins of Gaur

Sporting at Rajmahal—Ruins of the Palace of the Nawāb—Brahmanī
Ducks—The Ruins of Gaur—The Dakait—An Adventure—Beautiful
Ruins—Pān-gardens—The Kadam Sharīf—Curious Coins—Jungle
Fever—Casowtee Stone—Fields of the Mustard Plant—Ancient
Bricks—Fakīrs tame Alligators—Salt Box—An Account of the Ruins
of Gaur.

1836, _Dec. 4th._—Early this morning Mr. S⸺ crossed the river opposite Rajmahal, with his beaters and two little spaniels; he killed six brace of birds, but was unable to secure more than seven of them, from the jungly nature of the ground; the birds are partridges of a particular sort, only found, sportsmen say, at Rajmahal and one other place in India, the name of which I forget. At one spot the beaters were uncertain whether they saw a stranded boat or an alligator; it was a magar, the snub-nosed alligator. Mr. S⸺ put a bullet into his body about the fore-paw, the animal turned over in the river with a great splash, beating up the mud with his tail in his agony, and disappeared under the water. The magars are bold and fierce, the crocodiles timid, and it is supposed they do not venture to attack mankind; nevertheless, young children have been found in their bodies when caught.

During this time I rambled over the ruins of the old palace, which is fast falling into the river; the principal rooms still standing now contain a quantity of coal, the warehouse of the steamers; it must have been a handsome building in former days; the marble floor of the mosque remains, and a fine well. My guide told me that at Gaur is a fine place, belonging to this Nawāb, now in ruins. All around Rajmahal is a beautiful jungle of magnificent bamboos; such fine clumps, interspersed with date palm trees, overshadowing the cottages, around which were a number of small cows, and fowls of a remarkably good breed; every thing had an air of comfort. The walks in all directions were so cool and pleasing, that it was very late ere I could induce myself to return to breakfast. The inhabitants of this pleasant jungle are accounted great thieves; an idea quite the contrary is given from the comfortable appearance of their cottages under the clumps of bamboos, close to the river, which is covered with vessels passing up and down.

_5th._—The ruins of the ancient city of Gaur are laid down as at no very great distance from the Ganges. We were very anxious to visit the place, and therefore, quitting the Ganges, entered the little river, the Baugruttī sotā, up which, at the distance of half a mile, is the village of Dulalpūr: off the latter place we moored our vessels, being unable to proceed higher up from the shallowness of the water.

We explored the nālā in a dinghee, a small boat, and seeing two wild fowl (murghābī), I requested my companion to shoot one. “They are Brahmanī ducks, I do not like to kill them,” he replied; I persisted; he fired, and shot the male bird, the chakwā, it fell into the nālā, close to the boat; the hen bird, utterly unmindful of the gun, flew round and round the dinghee, uttering the most mournful cries over the dead body of her mate; poor bird, with merciful cruelty we let her live;—never again will I separate the chakwā, chakwī. The following is an extract from Forbes’ Hindūstanī Dictionary:—“Duck (wild) chākwī, chakaī. This is the large duck or goose, well known in India by the name of Brahmanī _goose_ or _duck_, and in the poetry of the Hindūs, is their _turtle-dove_, for constancy and connubial affection, with the singular circumstance of the pair having been doomed for ever to nocturnal separation, for having offended one of the Hindū divinities in days of yore; whence—

“Chakwā chakwī do jane ... in mat māro ko,e;
Ye māre kartār ke ... rain bichhorā ko,e.”

(Let no one kill the male or female chakwā;
They, for their deeds, are doomed to pass their nights in separation.)

“According to the popular belief, the male and female of these birds are said to occupy the opposite banks of a water or stream regularly every evening, and to exclaim the live-long night to each other thus:—

“Chākwī, maïn ā, ūn? Nahīn nahīn, chakwā.
Chakwā, maïn ā, ūn? Nahīn nahīn, chakwī.”

The dārogha, the head man of the adjacent village, came down to the boats to make salām, and offered me the use of two horses for visiting Gaur; and a gentleman from the indigo factory of Chandnī Kothī, two miles distant, had the kindness to say he would lend me an elephant.

_Dec. 6th._—Early in the morning a man was seen watching and lurking about the boats; therefore I desired the khidmatgār to put as few spoons and forks on the breakfast-table as possible, lest the sight of silver might bring thieves to the boats at night: the suspicious-looking man carried in his hand a long and peculiarly shaped brass lota, a drinking-vessel.

The dārogha sent the horses, and the elephant arrived, with an invitation to our party to go to the factory, where we found Mr. S⸺ very weak, recovering from jungle fever; but his friend, Mr. M⸺, promised to show us the ruins. They detained us to tiffin at 3 P.M., after which, my side-saddle having been put on one of the horses, I was ready to start; when Mr. M⸺ recommended my going on the elephant, on account of the deepness of the swamps we should have to pass over. Accordingly I mounted the elephant; a number of men attended us, amongst whom were three hill-men, with their bows and arrows; Mr. M⸺ mounted his horse; we went on, and lost sight of him. The factory is situated in the midst of jungle, the ground park-like around, good trees, a great number of tanks of fine water, and a large space of morass in different directions, filled with high jungle grass. My companion took his gun, he is an excellent shot; nevertheless, on account of the unusual motion on a pad, from the back of the elephant he missed his game most strangely. We started by far too late, in spite of which we saw eight wild boars, three hog deer, one black partridge, two snipe, and nine or ten monkeys. Mr. M⸺ did not join us, and we marvelled at his non-appearance. On our return he assisted me as I descended the ladder from the back of the kneeling elephant, and said he had been almost murdered. He related that he quitted the house, and having gone half a mile, was looking for us, when a man tending cows called to him, and said, “A party on an elephant are gone that way.” Mr. M⸺ turned his horse to the point indicated, when the cowherd struck him two blows with a stick, which almost knocked him from his horse; as the fellow aimed the third blow, Mr. M⸺ wrenched the stick from his hand, and cut his forehead open with a blow over the eye. The dākait, or dākū, for he was a robber by profession, ran away; the gentleman followed. The dākait, who had a brass vessel full of water in his hand, swung it round most dexterously from the end of a string, not suffering the water to escape, and sent it right at Mr. M⸺; it missed him, and fell on the horse’s head. The robber then seized him by the collar, and pulled him from his horse; they struggled together, trying to throttle each other, and the dākū hit him severely in several places; at last Mr. M⸺ made him a prisoner, returned to the factory, and having bound his arms, he secured him to a pillar in the verandah, tying his long hair also to the post, to prevent his escape. We returned from the shooting expedition just after all this had happened, and found the ground at the man’s feet covered with blood; he appeared to be a daring and resolute character. On being questioned as to his motives by the gentlemen, he pretended not to understand Hindūstanī, and to be an idiot. I went alone into the verandah: “O, my grandmother, my grandmother! Nānī Ma, Nānī Ma, save me!” exclaimed the man; “did I not bring you milk this morning?” “Yes,” said my bearer, “that is true enough; I know the man by the peculiar shape of his brass lota; he was lurking about the vessel, and when spoken to said he had brought milk; the khidmatgār took it for his own use, refusing to give me a portion.” This was the man I had observed in the morning; he was remarkably well formed, light and active, with muscles well developed; the beauty of his form was not hidden by any superfluous clothing, having merely a small portion of linen around his loins; his body was well oiled, and slippery as an eel,—a great advantage in a personal struggle, it being scarcely possible to retain hold on a well-oiled skin. He told me he had been sent by an indigo-planter from the other side of the river, to take Mr. M⸺’s life. On mentioning this to the gentlemen, I found the men of his factory on the opposite side the river had quarrelled about a well with the men of another factory, and in the affray, one of Mr. M⸺’s hill-men had run the head man of the opposite party right through the body with an arrow; it was unknown whether it had proved fatal, and Mr. M⸺ had crossed the river, awaiting the result of the unfortunate affair. It was supposed the dākait had been on the watch for some time, prowling about the place as a cowherd, and attacked the indigo-planter, finding him alone and far from his servants, the latter having proceeded with the party on the elephant. The robber tending the cows was serving under the orders of the dārogha of the village, who had lent me the horses; I was informed the latter was a regular dākait, and was recommended to remove my boats from the vicinity of his village, which, I understand, is full of robbers, and close to Dulalpūr. We returned to our boats; this most disagreeable adventure made me nervous; the guns and pistols were looked to, that they might be in readiness in case of attack; it was late at night, and I proposed crossing to the other side of the Ganges; but the manjhī assured me there was more to be feared from the violence of the stream, if we attempted to cross the river during the darkness of the night, than from the vicinity of the dākaits.

_7th._—We breakfasted at the factory, and then, having mounted a fine tractable male elephant, well broken in for sporting, and showing very large tusks, we proceeded towards Gaur, visiting all the ruins _en route_, and shooting from the back of the elephant as game arose in the thick jungle and amongst the fine trees which surrounded the tanks in every direction. The country around one of the principal ruins is remarkably beautiful; the ruin stands on a rising ground, covered with the silk cotton tree, the date palm, and various other trees; and there was a large sheet of water, covered by high jungle grass, rising far above the heads of the men who were on foot.

On the clear dark purple water of a large tank floated the lotus in the wildest luxuriance; over all the trees the jungle climbers had twisted and twined; and the parasitical plants, with their red flowers, were in bunches on the branches. The white granite pillars in some parts of the ruin were erect, in others prostrate; a number of the pillars were of black stone.

The Mahāwat, as we were going over this ruin, told us, “This is the favourite resort of tigers, and in the month of Bysak they are here in considerable number; now you may meet with one, but it is unlikely.” My curiosity so far overcame any fear, I could not help looking with longing eyes into the deep jungle-grass, as we descended into and crossed the water, half-hoping, half-fearing, to see a tiger skulking along.

The Sonā Masjid, or Golden Mosque, most particularly pleased me; its vastness and solidity give the sensation one experiences in the gloomy massive aisles of a cathedral. I will not particularly describe the ruins, but will add a description I was allowed to copy, written by Mr. Chambers, an indigo-planter, who, having lived at Gaur for thirty-six years, has had the opportunity of more particularly inspecting them than was in my power. I brought away many of the ornamented bricks, and those glazed with a sort of porcelain, something like Dutch tiles.

The gateway of the fort, with its moat below, is fine; the ramparts are covered with large trees. Lying in a field beyond the ramparts is a tombstone of one single block of black marble, an enormous mass of solid marble. At 5 P.M. the khidmatgārs informed us that two chakor (perdix chukar) and a wild duck, having been roasted in gipsy fashion under the trees, dinner was ready; we seated ourselves near one of the ruins, and partook of refreshment with infinite glee. No sooner was it ended, than, remounting the elephant, we went to the ruins of a hunting tower: approaching it from every point, it is a beautiful object seen above the woods, or through the intervals between the trees. Akbar beautified the city, and may probably have built this circular tower,—a column of solid masonry, within which winds a circular stair. At Fathīpūr Sicrī is a tower, somewhat of a similar description, built by Akbar, and used as a hunting tower; people were sent forth to drive the game from every part towards the minār, from the top of which the emperor massacred his game at leisure. This tower at Gaur, much more beautifully situated, with a greater command of country, may have been used for a similar purpose. The building is on a larger scale, and much handsomer than the one at Fathīpūr Sicrī.

My companion mounted the hunting tower; climbing up the broken stones, a feat of some difficulty, he went up to the dome, which is now in ruins, though its egg shape may be clearly traced. The view pleased him: he was anxious I should ascend; but I was deterred by the difficulty of climbing up to the entrance porch, which is of carved black stone and very handsome.

There is one thing to observe with relation to the buildings: judging from the exterior ornaments on the stones, they would be pronounced Muhammadan; but, on taking out the stones, the other side presents Hindoo images; as if the conquerors had just turned and ornamented the stones according to their own fashion. The Hindoo idols around Gaur have generally been broken; the interior of the buildings, presenting pillars of massive stone, appear to me Hindoo: this point I leave to the learned, and rest content myself with admiring their fallen grandeur. The peepul tree and the banyan spring from the crevices, twisting their roots between the masses of stone, destroying the buildings with great rapidity; the effect, nevertheless, is so picturesque, one cannot wish the foliage to be destroyed. Crossing a bridge, we saw what I supposed to be the dry trunk of a tree; it was a large alligator asleep on the edge of a morass. Mr. S⸺ fired, the ball struck him just below the shoulders, and from the paralyzed appearance of the animal must have entered the spine; he opened his enormous jaws and uttered a cry of agony. A second bullet missed him; he made an effort, and slipped over into the water, which became deeply dyed with his blood. Every tank is full of alligators. He sank to the bottom, and the dāndees lost a meal, by them considered very agreeable. I roamed on the elephant until it was very dark, when I got into the palanquin; one of the party rode by its side, and amused himself by catching fire-flies in his hand, and throwing them into the palkee. How beautifully the fire-flies flitted about over the high jungle grass that covered the morasses! As they crossed before the dark foliage of the trees, they were seen in peculiar brilliancy.

In the jungle, I saw several pān gardens, carefully covered over. Pān (piper betel), a species of pepper plant, is cultivated for its leaves; the vine itself is perennial, creeping, very long, and rooting at all the joints; the leaves have an aromatic scent and pungent taste. In India, of which it is a native, it is protected from the effect of the weather by screens made of bamboo. The root of the pān, called khoolinjān, as a medicine, is held in high estimation, and is considered an antidote to poison.

In one of the buildings you are shown the kadam sharīf, or the prints of the honoured feet of the prophet; over which is a silken canopy. The door is always fastened, and a pious Musalmān claps his hands three times, and utters some holy words ere he ventures to cross the threshold. This ceremony omitted, is, they say, certain and instantaneous death to the impious wretch: but this penalty only attaches itself to the followers of the prophet, as we found no ill effect from the omission. In the Qanoon-e-islam the history of the kadam-i-rasūl, the footstep of the prophet, is said to be as follows: “As the prophet (the peace and blessing of God be with him!), after the battle of Ohud (one of the forty or fifty battles in which the prophet had been personally engaged), was one day ascending a hill, in a rage, by the heat of his passion the mountain softened into the consistence of wax, and retained, some say eighteen, others forty impressions of his feet. When the angel Gabriel (peace be unto him!) brought the divine revelation that it did not become him to get angry, the prophet (the peace! &c.) inquired what was the cause of this rebuke. Gabriel replied, ‘Look behind you for a moment and behold.’ His excellency, when he perceived the impressions of his feet on the stones, became greatly astonished, and his wrath immediately ceased. Some people have these very impressions, while others make artificial ones to imitate them. Some people keep a qudum-e-russool, footstep of the prophet, or the impression of a foot on stone in their houses, placed in a box, and covered with a _mahtabee_ or _tagtee_ covering; and this, they say, is the impression of the foot of the prophet (the peace! &c.).

“On this day (the bara-wufât) such places are elegantly decorated. Having covered the chest with _moqeish_ and zurbaft, they place the qudum-e-moobarik (blessed foot) on it, or deposit it in a _taboot_; and place all round it beautiful _moorch’huls_ or _chawn-urs_; and as at the _Mohurrum_ festival, so now, they illuminate the house, have music, burn frankincense, wave _moorch’huls_ over it. Five or six persons, in the manner of a song or _murseea_, repeat the _mowlood_, _dorood Qoran_, his _mowjeezay_ (or miracles), and _wafat nama_ (or the history of his death); the latter in Hindostanee, in order that the populace may comprehend it, and feel for him sympathy and sorrow.”

Some Muhammadan tombs are also shown here: the place is embowered in fine trees, on the branches of which are hundreds of monkeys flinging themselves from branch to branch in every direction. The fakīr in charge of the kadam-i-mubārak, the blessed foot, asked alms; which I promised to bestow, if he would bring me some of the old rupees, or any coin dug up in Gaur. Coins in great numbers are continually found, but the poor people are afraid of showing any treasure in their possession, for fear of being made to give it up to the Company. I was unable to procure any; still I hope, through my friends at the factory, to get a few. The silver coins are very large and thin. A curiosity of carved sandal-wood was shown in the building of the Kadam Sharīf: its name I forget.

After this long day spent in exploring the ruins, we stopped at the factory. Mr. S⸺ blamed us highly for having remained so late in the jungle, on account of the fever, so likely to be caught after sunset. With him we found Mr. Chambers, also an indigo-planter, who gave me a specimen taken out of a casowtee stone. In boring the stone for some water in the factory, a portion, which appeared to consist of gold and silver, incorporated with the stone, fell out. The casowtee stone is esteemed very valuable; its colour is black: this was dug up in the Rakabud Mosque at Gaur. Having thanked our new acquaintances for their great attention and hospitality, we returned to the boats. I was much over-fatigued, and ached in every limb from the motion of the elephant, one accounted exceedingly rough. The former night the fear of robbery had rendered me sleepless; that night I was so much fatigued, a dākait would have had hard work to awaken me.

The country around Gaur is very open, interspersed with innumerable fine tanks, surrounded by large trees. The fields present one sheet of golden colour in every direction; the sarson was in full flower, its yellow flowers looking so gay amidst the trees, the old ruins, and the sheets of water. The sarson (sinapis dichotoma) is one of the species of mustard plant cultivated in Bengal in great quantities on account of the oil extracted from the seeds, which is used for burning in lamps and in Hindustanī cookery. The bricks of which the buildings are composed are very small and thin, very strongly burned, and very heavy, united with lime alone, no mortar having been used with it, which accounts for the durability of the ruins, and the great difficulty of detaching a brick from any part, so firm is the cement.

I am told the tanks are full of alligators; the crocodile is in the Ganges, but not in the tanks at Gaur; and these fierce snub-nosed alligators in some tanks are quite tame, coming up at the call of the fakīrs, and taking the offerings of living kids from their hands: cattle are often seized and devoured by them.

_8th._—I awoke much too weary to attempt hog-hunting, although the elephants were attired on the bank. Close to, and on the right of Dulalpūr, hares, black partridge, and peacocks were numerous. In the marshes were wild hogs in droves of from two to three hundred; and little pigs squeaking and running about were seen with several of the droves.

The gentleman who went out on the elephant returned, bringing with him two large wild boars and a young hog. We had the tusks extracted, and gave the meat to the servants, I being too much a Musalmanī myself to eat hogs’ flesh of any sort or description. The Rajpūts will eat the flesh of the wild boar, although they abhor the flesh of domesticated swine.

Mr. Chambers came down to the river, where he had eight boats containing indigo to the value of two lakh. He showed me some fine old casowtee stones covered with Hindoo images, dug up in Gaur, and gave me some specimens of the Gaur bricks; the stones he is sending home to the owner of the factory, Lord Glenelg. From the hill-men in charge of the indigo boats, I procured what is used by them as a salt-box, and was of their own making; merely one joint of a thick bamboo curiously carved and painted, in the hollow of which they carry their salt. They gave me also an arrow for bruising, with a head of iron like a bullet. Thus ended a most interesting visit; and to this account I will add Mr. Chambers’ description of the place, copied from his manuscript.

“THE RUINS OF GAUR.

“The ancient city of Gaur, said to have been the capital of
Bengal, seven hundred and fifty years before the commencement
of the Christian era, is now an uninhabited waste. It is
situated on the east side of the Ganges, and runs nearly in a
direction with it from S.E. to N.N.W., about twenty-five miles
below Rajmahal. It lies in N. lat. 24° 53′, and in E. long.
88° 14′, and is supposed by Rennell to be the Gangia regia of
Ptolemy. It has borne various names; it was formerly called
Lutchmavutee or Lucknowtee, as well as Gaur; and when repaired
and beautified in 1575, by the great Akbar, who is said to
have been particularly attached to this city, it received
from him the name of Zennuttabad, from his fancying it a kind
of terrestrial Paradise. The extent of the city appears,
from the old embankments which enclosed it on every side,
to have been ten miles long and two miles broad. These banks
were sufficiently capable of guarding it from floods during
the rising of the Ganges, when the rest of the country was
inundated, as well as defending the place from an enemy, as
there are mounds of earth from thirty to forty feet in height,
and from one to two hundred feet broad at the base, the removal
of the earth forming deep broad ditches on the outside of the
banks. Some of these embankments were defended by brickwork.
On the outside, the city has two embankments two hundred feet
wide, running parallel to each other, at five hundred and
eighty feet asunder, probably for greater security against a
large lake to the eastward, which in strong weather drives with
great violence against it during the season of the inundations.
The principal passes through these banks to the city had
gateways, two of which, one at the south end, and the other at
the north end, are still standing, and the remains of others
that have been destroyed are visible. The suburbs extended
(there being sufficient vestiges of them to be traced) at least
to a distance of four miles from each of those gates. Two grand
roads led through the whole length of the city, raised with
earth and paved with bricks, terminating with the gate at the
south end. Where drains and canals intersected the roads, are
the remains of bridges built over them.

“The buildings and mosques must have been very numerous; the
rubbish and stones of which still left, point out the places
where they stood. The two called golden mosques, and the Nuttee
Musjeed, are doubtless the best buildings of that kind.

“In the midst of the city stood a fort, nearly square, and
extending about a mile on every side, which had a bank or
rampart forty feet high: there is a wall now remaining nearly a
quarter of a mile in extent, and in some places between seventy
and eighty feet in height, which surrounds a space many feet
long and wide, parted into three divisions, and is supposed to
have surrounded the king’s palace. The gates leading to the
fort, and another to Shah Husain’s tomb are partly left, but
covered with trees, and as full of bats and reptiles as the
ditches are of alligators.

“The whole of this extensive boundary, including the fort and
city, contains innumerable tanks and ponds of various sizes.
The Saugur-dighee tank is a mile in length, by half a mile in
breadth; three or four others, with this, are the best and
largest cisterns of water in the place.

“At one of the tanks the Musselmāns make offerings to the
alligators, which has made them so tame, they come to the shore
and take away what is offered.

“The following observations on the ruins which still remain
sufficiently entire, commence with the great

“GOLDEN MOSQUE.

“This noble building appears to stand nearly in the centre of
this ancient capital. It is built of brick, but is ornamented
on all sides with a kind of black porphyry stone. This mosque
appears to have been surrounded with a wall, which, on the east
side of the building, formed a court about three hundred feet
in length and two hundred and fifty in breadth. The mosque
itself formed a building one hundred and seventy feet in length
from north to south, and one hundred and thirty in breadth.
These dimensions are easily ascertained, as the north and south
doors of the mosque, which mark its length, remain entire, and
the breadth is easily computed from the one range and the ruins
of the rest which yet remain. Its height within is about sixty
feet, but it is probable that the spires of its lofty domes
rose to the height of one hundred feet from the ground. Its
internal structure presents a singular appearance. Its breadth
is divided into six ranges resembling the aisles of a church.
These aisles are in breadth twelve feet; and as they extend
the whole length of the building from north to south, they are
somewhat better than a hundred and fifty feet in length.

“The six walls which once divided them and supported the roof
were eight feet in thickness, built of brick, and covered with
black porphyry to a considerable height. These ranges of aisles
are not formed of solid masonry; each of them is intersected
by eleven openings from east to west, of somewhat more than
six feet in breadth. This, in reality, divided the wall which
supports the roof of each range into twelve massy columns
of eight feet square, so that the whole building contained
seventy-two of these columns, eight feet both in length and
breadth, of which the six outer ones on the two sides north
and south adhering to the outside wall, left sixty within to
support the roof. These rows of columns closed over each aisle,
and thus formed six semicircular roofs, covering and extending
the whole length of each aisle. It was, however, only that
part furnished by each column which formed the arches of these
six semicircular roofs; the eleven spaces which intersect
each range, were formed above into domes about eleven feet in
diameter within, and terminating in a point without. Of these
six ranges or aisles, only one, that on the east side, is now
entire, although traces of the other five are still visible.
Of the domes in this range, the roofs of five are entire;
those of two more are merely open at the top; in three more
the roof has entirely fallen in; and the roofs on the rest
having half fallen, seem to threaten the spectator with instant
destruction, should any part of the mouldering ruin fall whilst
he is walking underneath.

“The outward walls are nine feet in thickness. They are built
of small bricks, extremely hard, and with excellent cement. The
whole building seems to have suffered far less from depredation
than from the numerous shrubs and trees which grow upon it, and
which, insinuating their roots into the breaches of the walls,
threaten the whole with unavoidable and speedy dissolution.

“Proceeding about a mile distant from the above-mentioned
mosque, there is a large

“OBELISK,

“which stands alone, completely separate from any other
building. It is supposed to have been erected for an
observatory, or for the sake of calling the inhabitants to
the regular performance of their daily devotions. It contains
four stories, with a staircase within. The first story, about
twelve feet from the ground, must be entered by a ladder. The
wall is marked by many small windows placed over each other
in a perpendicular line. The top is now completely open, but
appears to have been formerly surmounted by a dome. On the wall
within is discerned the vestiges of numerous former visitors,
and their initials cut in the stones with the date annexed.
Many of these names were identified: directing attention to the
most ancient, to discover, if possible, how long this has been
the resort of European visitors, we traced ‘W. Harwood, April
17th, 1771;’ ‘G. Grey, 1772;’ ‘I. Henchman;’ ‘G. W.;’ ‘H. C.;’
and many others: inspecting more narrowly the initials ‘M. V.,
1683,’ are deciphered. This was the remotest date ascertained:
this reaches into the middle of the famous Aurunzebe’s reign,
and it may easily be supposed that the place had fallen into
decay at least a hundred and eighty years, if not more.
Who this European traveller could have been is a matter of
conjecture; but it is agreed that he was some gentleman from
Holland or Portugal. This date, if Gaur had fallen into decay
previous to his visit, might ascertain the time of its having
been abandoned.

“If the Emperor of Delhi, Akbar, who was contemporary with our
Elizabeth, repaired and beautified it, the period between this
visit and the meridian glory of Gaur could not have been more
than ninety years.

“The height of the upper story from the ground is seventy-one
feet. When to this is added the height of the cupola, &c., it
seems probable that one hundred feet was the original height
of the building. The diameter of the area in the upper story
is precisely ten feet: as the extreme diameter at the bottom
is only twenty-one feet, if the thickness of the two walls is
reckoned at about three and a half, the extreme diameter of
the upper story will be seventeen feet, so that in a height of
seventy feet, its diameter has lessened little more than three
feet, a circumstance which reflects the highest credit both
on the architect and the materials of the building, as it has
resisted the strongest hurricanes for so many hundred years.
The steps of the staircase, which remain entire, are about
fifty, but in many instances the intermediate ones are worn
away. The windows are formed of black porphyry, which appears
to have been intended for support as well as ornament, as the
stones about two feet in length and one in breadth, and nearly
a foot in thickness, support each other by means of tenons
formed in the stone itself; and they, in several instances,
stand firm, although the brickwork has fallen from them, whilst
they are really firm; however, they assume so threatening an
aspect from their appearing loose, that the visitor is almost
afraid of being crushed beneath them.

“To the southward, about half a mile beyond the obelisk, is the

“NUTTEE MUSJEED,

“by some Europeans termed the China mosque, from the bricks
of which it is built being ornamented with various colours.
This building, however, has nothing of the mosque beyond some
little resemblance in its external appearance, nor is there
any thing within it corresponding with the internal appearance
of the great Golden Mosque; it appears evidently intended for
purposes of amusement. It is the most entire of any structure
now remaining at Gaur. Its extreme length from east to west is
about seventy-two feet, its breadth about fifty-four feet, and
its height about seventy feet. The outer walls, nine feet in
thickness, are formed of bricks, extremely small, not exceeding
four inches in length, three in breadth, and one inch and a
half in thickness; but these bricks are so well made, and the
cement is so firm, that the building has almost the solidity
of stone. The surface of these bricks is painted and glazed,
yellow, white, green, and blue in alternate succession; and the
whole appears to have been finished with a neatness approaching
to finery. The east, the north, and the south sides have
three doors, forming nine in the whole; on the west side it
is closed. The arch of the middle door on each side is about
eleven feet in height, the other two about nine feet high. The
breadth is somewhat about six feet. On entering the east door,
a partition wall presents itself, forming a space twelve feet
in extent, and the whole breadth of the building. This marks
the east as having been the front entrance, as this formed a
kind of porch to the vestibule, in which probably servants
remained.

“The space within this forms a beautiful room, about thirty-six
feet square, the four walls closing above, and forming a
majestic dome. The height of this spacious room we had no
means of ascertaining exactly, but, from its appearance, it
may be from forty to fifty feet. So spacious and lofty a room,
without a pillar, beam, or rafter, is a real curiosity; and
when the antiquity of the building, the smallness of the bricks
which compose it, and its present high state of preservation
are considered, it seems evident that the art of building, as
far as durability is considered, was far better understood in
Bengal formerly than is indicated now by any modern edifice
in the metropolis of India. Are European science and skill
completely distanced by the former knowledge of a nation deemed
only half-civilized?

“THE SOUTH GATE

formed the southern boundary of the city; its majestic arch
still remains, it is thirty-five feet wide; on each side is a
piece of masonry sixty feet square, and in height nearly equal
to the outside of the arch surmounting the gateway, which is
somewhat better than sixty feet. The masonry is united both on
the east and west side by a rampart of earth, which is also
sixty feet high, and is covered with trees of various kinds.
This rampart, however, would have formed but a feeble defence
against an army of Europeans, whatever it might have been
esteemed against an Indian army.

“Many mosques, and the remains of old buildings, as well as
a great number of fine stone pillars which once supported
splendid edifices, are to be seen entangled by jungle and
high grass, completely covered up in some places, and in
other places prostrate, the foundations having been excavated
for bricks and stones. The towns of Malda, Rajmahal, and
Moorshadabad have been supplied with building materials from
Gaur, which to this day are continually carried to the populous
adjacent towns and villages, to build native dwellings.

“In passing through so large an extent of that which was once
a scene of human grandeur, nothing presents itself but these
few remains; trees and grass now fill up the space, giving
shelter to a variety of wild creatures; buffaloes, deer, wild
hogs, monkeys, peacocks, and the common fowl, now become wild;
the roar of the tiger, the cry of the peacock, the howls of the
jackals, with the company of bats and troublesome insects, soon
become familiar to those inhabiting the neighbourhood.”

_Extracts from an old work on India._

‘India was first discovered by the Portuguese in 1497, at which time, and even at the commencement of the reign of the Emperor Akbar, in 1556, Gaur was a flourishing city.’

_From the History of Portuguese Asia._

‘Gaur, the principal city in Bengal, is seated on the banks of the Ganges, three leagues in length, containing 1,200,000 families, and well fortified. Along the streets, which are wide and straight, rows of trees shade the people, who are so very numerous, that sometimes many are trodden to death.’

“To the contemplative mind, what a striking example must a review of Gaur present of the uncertain state of sublunary things!”

“The Ruins of Gaur,” with eighteen coloured plates, was published in 1817, in one volume quarto, from the manuscript and sketches of the late H. Creighton, Esq.; it is a scarce and interesting work.