Between the mosque and the temple of Visvesvar, situated in a quadrangle surrounded by a handsome colonnade is the Gyan Kup, or well of knowledge. Here Siva is sup posed to reside. The quadrangle is filled with mendicants, pilgrims, aristocratic Brahmans, women and children, and cows, all huddled together. There is the Vairagi, with his necklaces and beads, the revolting looking Naga with long curls on his head, a lungoti round the waist, and his body coloured to an ashy tint. A crowd is gathered around a sleek looking man in a red dress, who is accompanied by a bull covered with a long shift adorned with shells. A pic ture of Mahadev on the turban marks the Jokri sect, and he is singing an account of the wars of Mahadev to extract alms from the faithful. Near the platform of the well stands a man, shaven from head to foot, with his body rubbed with ashes. A piece of red cloth is round his waist, and in one hand he carries a vessel with a spout, in the other a bamboo at the top of which a piece of red cloth is tied. This is the danda or one who keeps a dand (bamboo stick) with him. The vessel is his sole possession in the world. He uses it for bathing, drinking, and eating. Silver and gold he scorns. He buys cooked food from Brahmans ; for to cook it himself would deprive him of a fragment of time which must be wholly ;pent in the contemplation of the deity. The well is surrounded by a colonnade with handsome pillars, and crowds of pilgrims are pushing forward in order to throw into the stagnant greenish water offerings of flowers. A Brahman draws a silver goblet full of the liquid, and with a look of rapt ecstasy a woman drains the fluid which exhales a foetid smell. The sight is too much for the nerves ; and we move away glad to escape from the greasy men and women and the deafening din of gongs and voices. We come to the figure of a large bull, about seven feet high, cut in stone, dedicated to the God Mahadev, and a little further is a temple dedicated to the same deity. All around are small Panes of no great architectural beauty, but the rich carving, full of life and originality, which adorns them from base to summit well repays study. Leaving these Eastern caskets we come to a small shrine dedicated to Saniscara, or the planet Saturn. The image is a round silver disc, from which hangs an apron to conceal the absence of a body. For seven years Saturn troubles the life of every man who does not worship at his shrine. Near Saturn is a shrine of the good Anapurna, who takes care that none suffer from hunger. She is a very common household deity, and in the Deccan most families include her among their Dii Penates. She is represented usually with a ladle in her hand, in the company of Ganga, with the lingam of Siva before him, and the kneeling bull on the other side. The Mahratta matron prays for children to the lingam, to Ganega for prudence and propriety of conduct, and to Anapurna for daily bread. Her shrine at Benares was built by one of the Peshwas. It consists of a tower and a dome supported by pillars, between which a bell is hung, which is constantly kept sounding by devout worshippers. The goddess has silver eyes and a necklace of jewels, and wears a mask of gold or burnished copper. The temple stands in the centre of a quadrangle, in each corner of which is a shrine respectively dedicated to the Sun, Ganega, Gauri (sankara), and Hanuman, the monkey god ; the last being an immediate offspring of the favour of the sun, is regarded as the son of Siva. The idol representing the sun is seated in a chariot drawn by seven horses, and is surrounded by a halo indicative of the rays of light which he emits from his person in all directions. Near the shrine of Gauri is a stone box meant to contain all the gifts of rice and grain of the pilgrims. Hundreds of the poor are thus daily supplied with food. At the thres hold of the temple are seated beggars, with cups in their hands, into which the worshippers, as they enter or depart from the temple, throw small quantities of grain.
Benares Is bounded by a road which, though fifty miles in circuit, is never distant from the city more than five kos miles) : hence its name Panch-kos Road. All who die within this boundary, be they Brahman or low caste, Muslim or Christian, be they liars, thieves or murderers, are sure of admittance into Siva's heaven. To tread the Panch-kos Road is one of the great ambitions of a Hindu's life. Even if he be an inhabitant of the sacred city he must traverse it once in the year to free himself from the impurities and sins contracted within the holy precincts. Thousands from all parts of India make the pilgrimage every year. By the roadside, lined with noble trees, there are tanks where the pilgrim must perform the sacred ablutions, and there are numerous shrines to which he may offer his prayers. The journey must be made on foot, and the luxury of shoes is not permitted. On the way the pilgrim must not quarrel or use harsh language, and he must not give or receive any gift from a friend— nay, not even a handful of grain nor a cup of water. But along the last stage he scatters barley on the ground in honour of Siva, the emblem of creation. Arrived at the Manikaranika Ghat, from whence he started, he bathes in the river, makes an offering of money to the priest in attendance, and then goes to the temple of Sakshi-Binark, or the witness-bearing Ganeia, to have his pilgrimage attested and recorded by the deity. The temple stands in a square, and was built by a Mahratta a little more than a century ago. Near it is a small shrine dedicated to the planet Venus, or Sukresvara, where persons come to pray who wish to have handsome sons. Even on the barren a fine son is bestowed, and so long as he lives in the saceed city he passes a happy lite, and at death he departs to Siva. Aphrodite also had a similar power of granting beauty. Darkness had begun to fall as we reached the temple of Venus. Lamps are lit in the shrines, and the priests sound the bells, not to invite worshippers, but to inform the world that the deity was about to retire to rest. We, too, are glad to escape from the filthy smells and noises and the weird idols of the dark worship of Siva.
Here are no sensuous charms united to spiritual life, but all is revolting and material.
At the break of dawn we find ourselves at the Obser vatory by the riverside, the sun has begun to shine brightly on the blue waters of the Ganges, and a clear cold wind to blow away the mist which enveloped the city. A broad flight of steps leads to the summit of a huge massive build ing, a terraced height well suited to the watchers of the stars. The apparatus does credit to the zeal and know ledge of science possessed by the Hindus two centuries ago. There is a mural quadrant, by means of which the sun's greatest declination and the latitude of the place can be ascertained. There is a gigantic gnomon, thirty-six feet long, sloping and pointing to the north pole, which is rightly termed Yantra-Samrat, or prince of instruments. On each side of it are arcs of a circle so divided as to act as a sun-dial. Near to the dial is a small mural quadrant, and to the east is a gigantic equinoctial circle made of stone. Then we come to an instrument called Chakrajantra. It consists of a circle of iron turning on an axis fastened to two walls, and pointing to the north pole. It was intended to show the declination of any star or planet. Not far from it is an azimuth compass, consisting of an outer and inner wall surrounding a broad pillar. The upper part of both walls is graduated into 36o degrees, and shows the points of the compass with iron spikes to mark the cardinal points. The Observatory at Benares has fallen into neglect and disuse, and we could find no one to explain the use of the instru ments. At one time the cool cloisters were thronged with sages, who strove to read the destinies of man in the books of the heavens, and calculated the celestial changes on which the Hindu festivals depend. Tavernier has given us a description of the Observatory in its palmy days, when two of the young princes of Jeypore were pupils there, study ing astronomy under skilful pundits. He writes : " I saw two of the children of that prince there at school, who had for their masters several Brahmins, who taught them to write and read in a language peculiar to the idolaters' priests, and far different from the speech of the common people. Enter ing the court of that Colledge, and casting my eyes up, I dis covered two galleries that went round the court, where I saw the two princes sitting, attended by several petty lords and Brahmins, who made several mathematical figures upon the ground with chalk. The two princes, seeing me, sent to know who I was ; and understanding I was a Frank, they sent for me up, and asked me several questions touching Europe and particularly touching France. Whereupon there being two globes in the room which the Hollanders had given the Brahmins, I showed the princes where France lay upon one of them." After leaving the Observatory we entered a boat to float down the stream. We had of ten read and heard of the delights of seeing Benares from the river, but we had no conception of the beauty and infinite variety of the views which unfold themselves to the eye. We see the large stone azimuth circle towering above the centre of the Observatory, and a lovely.balcony overhangs the river. With wonderful skill the projection is covered, as the height increases, with massive ornaments, and so all sense of instability is avoided. The sun lights up a long, red sandstone frontage with a massive gateway flanked by flowers. Near is a picturesque old temple with a tamarind tree hanging overhead, and a priest in yellow is seated near telling his beads. Then we float by a ghat crowded with women and children. How picturesque they look in their close bodices and pink, purple, and yellow robes ? The clinging garments reveal their supple charms as they emerge from the waters, but with wonderful dexterity their wet garments are swiftly changed under a large wrapper. It is only the fat and forty who are awkward. The garments changed, the Brahman priest fixes the frontal mark, and pronounces a mantra, or sacred text, for his spiritual daughters. Then we slowly drop by a long ghat backed by a picturesque terrace, which is crowded with priests, old and young, dressed in green and yellow, seated under kiosks and parasols, all busily engaged retailing chaplets and armlets, and certificates of purifica tion to the throngs of pilgrims which crowd the steps. We watch father, wife and little boy being led by two contend ing priests to the river's brink. The woman throws off the greater part of her clothing as she approaches the water's edge, and hands it to the sleek young Brahman who has got the better of his rival. Then she plunges into. the sacred stream. The fat copper urchin is stripped of his gaudy clothes by his stern parent, and handed to the dame, who plunges him, unwilling to be cleansed of his sins, in the sacred waters. Then with considerable dignity the head of the house enters the stream. After thoroughly washing away the sins of years, the family return to the sleek Brahman, who marks their foreheads. The father returns to the water's edge and fills a bottle, which he carries to an aged priest dressed in bright green, seated near, and he, with great solemnity, sets a seal to mark its genuineness. The great object of hope is realized. The pilgrimage to Benares has been made. In some remote village will that bottle be carefully preserved ; and round the fire at night will often be told the tale of the wondrous sights seen in the sacred city. Happy is he who makes a pilgrimage to Benares, but thrice happy is he whose soul ebbs away at its sacred stream, and whose body becomes a prey to the flames at the sacred ghat. As we pass it we see the funeral piles and a body by the water's edge ready to be placed on one of them. The rays of the sun light up the graceful spire of the golden temple, and glitter on the stream, and fill the white sails of the small shallops which are swiftly skimming over the water. At the Manikaranika, one of the most sacred of all the ghats, our water pilgrimage comes to an end.