From a straggling, irregular village, which could hardly be called a
town, nestling in a hollow under the mountain of Pertâbgurh, a rude
pathway, for it was little else, ascended to the fort above. Very
rough, but very lovely, was this road. The forest, or jungle, had been
partly cleared away from its sides, but noble trees still hung over
it, affording grateful shade as it wound round ravines and shoulders
of the mountain in gradual but easy ascent; and the huge broad leaf of
the teak tree, the graceful and feathery bamboo, and other masses of
luxuriant foliage, rich with great creepers now covered with flowers,
which hung from tree to tree in graceful festoons, or clung in dense
masses about their tops,--presented endless and beautiful combinations
with the bold upper precipices of the mountain itself, and the distant
ranges behind it. Farther up, as the air grew fresher in the ascent,
and you looked down into deep gloomy dells, or abroad over the valley,
or up to the rugged sides of the great mountain beyond,--a subtle blue
atmosphere appeared to pervade everything; and this, the peculiar
characteristic of those high tropical regions, seemed to increase in
depth of colour,--and, without in reality obscuring the features of the
scenery, to soften its rugged outlines, and blend its almost savage
elements into harmony.
It has been said of natives of India that they are insensible to
beauties of natural scenery. We admit that Mussulmans to a great
extent are so, but not Hindus, still less Mahrattas, of these
glorious mountains. Their sacred books, their ballads, and recited
plays, abound with beautiful pictures of natural objects; and, living
among combinations of the most glorious forms in nature, peopling
every remarkable rock, deep dell, or giant tree with spiritual
beings belonging peculiarly to each, who are worshipped with a rude
veneration,--insensibility to outward impressions and their influence
upon character would be impossible.
So now, at the time we speak of, a numerous company of men on foot were
ascending by the pathway already mentioned to the fort, and that light
merriment prevailed among them which ever accompanies the enjoyment of
fine scenery and pure mountain air, and excites physical capability
for the endurance of the heaviest fatigue. Some ran or leaped, as
occasional level portions of road occurred; others climbed among the
crags and rocks by its side, or, knowing shorter paths to the summit,
struck out of the main road, and breasted the steep mountain with a
freedom and agility only known to mountaineers.
Keen-eyed, lithe, spare, yet muscular men; low in stature, yet of
extraordinary power of endurance; often heavily armed with long
matchlock, and its accompaniment of powder-horns, bullet-bags, and
other accoutrements tied round the waist,--a long, straight, heavy
two-handled sword hanging over the left shoulder, or a smaller curved
sabre fastened into the waist-band, with a dagger or two, and a broad
shield at the back--such were Sivaji's Mawullees. Ordinarily unburdened
with much clothing--a pair of drawers fitting tight below the knee, a
coarse handkerchief wound about the head, and a black blanket thrown
over all, or crossed over the chest, leaving the arms free, sufficed
for ordinary purposes; on festival days, however, all were clad in a
clean suit of coarse cotton cloth, with a gay turban, and scarf round
the waist, and bunches of wild flowers tucked fantastically into the
folds of their head-dress.
This was a festival day--for their Rajah had ordered a Kutha; and all
knew when this took place that it was the prelude to some raid or
foray--some distant expedition in which honour and booty were to be
gained--and when the Mawullees would strike in, hard and fierce, on the
unsuspecting Moslems. The "Dhunni," or master, as they called him, had
been unaccountably quiet for some time past; but to a man they knew he
was not idle, and throughout that country, as in more remote provinces,
the conviction prevailed that something unusual was to happen--some
manifestation of the will of the goddess, whom all feared and most
worshipped. There was nothing apparent or tangible; but expectation and
excitement prevailed nevertheless.
For several days previously, the usual messengers had run from village
to village among the Mawuls or valleys of the ranges near Pertâbgurh,
giving news of the Kutha. The players had come from Wye, from Sattara,
and other towns, and the Rajah's hill-men had been clearing the usual
place of celebration, and were now decorating the royal seat, and stage
for the players, with green boughs and wild flowers. The little town
was already full of people, and others were crowding up the mountain to
make their salutation to their beloved prince who, now seated in his
hall of audience, surrounded by a few friends, soldiers, and priests,
denied no one the privilege so dearly prized, that of making a "salam"
to their Rajah, and receiving one in return.
Up the mountain-side, through the grim gateways, till they emerged
upon the irregular plateau at the top, the men poured in a continuous
stream. Some singly or in small groups; others in larger companies
headed by a pair of "gursees," or pipers, one playing a drone, the
other a reed flageolet, very strong and shrill in tone, the combination
of which, as well as the wild melodies played, being curiously like
bagpipes in effect. Others had with them their village trumpeters;
and shrill quivering blasts of their horns, accompanied by the deep
monotonous notes of large tambourine drums, not unfrequently arose
together or singly from different parts of the ascent, and were
answered by the Rajah's horn-blowers stationed on the bastions above
the gates, and elsewhere in the towers above the precipices. The fort
was full of men, for several thousands were assembled in it: sitting
in groups, rambling about the walls, or by the side of springs and
wells, untying the bundles of cakes which each man had bound to his
back, and making a noonday meal; or proceeding to their chieftain's
kitchen, received the daily allowance of meal bread, which was served
out without stint to all comers on those occasions, and of which huge
piles stood on the kitchen floor ready for distribution.
All the morning Sivaji had sat in his humble hall of audience,
surrounded by some of his tried friends, and some Brahmun priests and
scribes. No gorgeous palace was this, like that at Beejapoor, but a
broad shed made by poles fastened together, and thatched with grass
and teak-leaves, decorated gracefully and appropriately with leafy
branches and wild flowers. At the upper end was the Rajah's seat, a
low dais covered with coarse cotton carpets, on which the "guddee" or
royal seat--a velvet pillow covered with gold embroidery, and a seat
to match--had been placed temporarily. Below the dais, the leaders of
large and small parties of men came--saluted--seated themselves by
turns, and got up and departed with the usual salutation, but seldom
without notice; and while other men passed quickly by, the chief had a
kind word of greeting or reminiscence or salute for every one. Many
saw that his features were clouded with care; but the news from the
capital concerned no one, and the Kutha to come off that night would,
they knew, prove the usual prelude of active service.
Seated as he was amidst a crowd of friends and attendants, the Mahratta
Rajah seemed, in the distance, almost contemptible, from his small
stature and plain, insignificant appearance. Dressed in ordinary white
muslin, the only ornament he wore was the "jika," or jewel for the
turban, which sparkled with valuable diamonds. A light red shawl drawn
over his shoulders protected him from the somewhat chill wind, and
before him lay his terrible sword Bhowani, and the large black shield
of rhinoceros hide which he usually wore. A nearer view, however, gave
a different impression. Somewhat dark in complexion, with a prominent
nose, broad in the nostril; large, soft eyes, small determined mouth
and chin; a thin moustache curled up at the ends, and bushy black
whiskers shaved on a line with his ear,--formed a countenance at once
handsome and intelligent: while his slight figure, apparently more
active than strong, evinced, by its lithe movement even while sitting,
a power of endurance which was confirmed by the expression of his face.
No one who had once seen the Maharaja ever forgot him. Though now mild
in expression, if not sad, most about him had seen and remembered the
face in other and wilder moods of excitement: in war, or in the actual
hand-to-hand combats, in which he delighted, and from which he could
with difficulty be restrained; while the impression that he was an
incarnation of divinity, mingled awe with the respect and love which
all bore him.