A HALT IN THE VALLEY.
Being fairly settled in our quarters, we were not long in putting our
new staff of dependants into requisition; and, taking to our boat,
sallied forth to get a general view of the city of Sirinugger. [6]
Finding, however, a review of the army going on, we stopped at the
parade-ground to witness the interesting ceremony. The troops we found
drawn up in lines, forming the sides of a large square, and dressed in
what his Highness Rumbeer Singh believes confidently to be the English
costume. As far as one could see, however, the sole foundation for this
belief lay in the fact of their all wearing trousers! These were
certainly the only articles of their equipment that could in any way be
called English in style; and they bore, after all, but a slender
resemblance to the corresponding habiliments of the true Briton.
The head-dress, generally speaking, was a turban. One regiment,
however, had actually perpetrated a parody on the English shako—a feat
which I had always hitherto considered absolutely impossible.
The cavalry were mounted upon tattoos, or native ponies, and wore white
trousers, with tight straps, which rendered them for the time being the
most miserable of their race.
A few of them had imitations of Lancer caps, some had boots, some
slippers, some spurs, others none; some had wondrous straps of tape and
cord, others wore their trousers up to their knees; but one and all
were entirely uniform in looking completely ill at ease and out of
their element in their borrowed would-be-English plumage. Just as we
had finished taking a general view of the army, the Maharajah appeared
upon the stage, dressed in a green-and-gold embroidered gown and turban
and tight silk pantaloons, mounted on a grey caparisoned Arab steed.
After riding round the lines with his retinue, he came up, and we were
presented in due form; and after asking us if we had come from
Allahabad, and expressing his opinion that it was a long way off, in
which we entirely concurred with him, he shook hands in English style;
and, taking his seat in a chair which was placed for him, we collected
ourselves around, and, similarly seated, prepared to inspect the
marching past of his highness’s redoubtables. Before this began,
however, the Maharajah’s little son made his appearance, dressed in all
respects like his papa, with miniature sword and embroidered raiment;
and to him we were also introduced in form. During the marching past, I
congratulated myself upon being several seats distant from his
highness’s chair, for the effect was so absurd that it was almost
impossible to preserve that dignity and composure which the occasion
demanded.
The marching was in slow time, and the step being fully thirty-six
inches the fat little dumpy officers nearly upset themselves in their
efforts to keep time, and at the same time prevent their slippers from
deserting on the line of march; while, in bringing their swords to the
salute, they did it with a swing which was suggestive of their throwing
away their arms altogether. Besides artillery, five regiments of
infantry and two of cavalry marched past—in all, little over 2,000
men—colours flying and bands playing “Home, sweet home!” After this the
irregulars began to appear; and although the first part of the army
might have almost deserved the name, these put them completely in the
shade. One colonel had a pair of enormous English gold epaulettes and a
turban; another a black embroidered suit, with white tape straps, and
slippers; and as for the men, there were no two of them dressed alike,
while in the way of arms, each pleased his own particular fancy also. A
long gun over the shoulder was the most popular weapon; but each had,
in addition, a perfect armoury fastened in his girdle: pistols with
stocks like guns, daggers and even blunderbusses made their appearance;
and the general effect, as the crowd galloped independently past,
dressed in their many-coloured turbans, and flowing apparel, was most
picturesque. As soon as the last of the flags and banners and prancing
horses had gone past, the Maharajah set us the example of rising, and
mounting his grey steed, cantered off in state, surrounded by the crowd
of dusky parasites, arrayed in gold and jewels, who formed his court.
His Highness appeared to be about thirty-eight years old, and was as
handsome a specimen of a native as I had ever seen. He wore a short,
jet-black beard, and mustachios, turned up from the corners of his
mouth, and reaching, in two long twists, nearly to his eyes. He
appeared absent and thoughtful which, considering the low state of his
exchequer, was perhaps not to be wondered at. [7] His English visitors
spend a good deal of money every summer in his kingdom; and for this
reason alone, he is anxious enough to cultivate their acquaintance, and
gives naches, or native dances, and champagne dinners periodically to
amuse them. He presents, also, an offering to each traveller that
arrives, and we in due course received two sheep, two fowls, and about
fourteen little earthen dishes containing rice, butter, spices, eggs,
flour, fruit, honey, sugar, tea, &c., all of which were laid at the
door of our tent, with great pomp and ceremony, by a host of
attendants.
After the review, we took boat again and paddled down the stream to
look at the town, and a quainter and more picturesque-looking old place
it would be hard to conceive. The houses are built entirely of wood, of
five and six stories, and overhanging the river, and are as close as
possible to each other, except where here and there interspersed with
trees. Communication is kept up between the banks by means of wooden
rustic bridges, built on enormous piles of timber, laid in entire
trees, crossing each other at equal distances. Not a single straight
line is to be seen in any direction—the houses being dilapidated and
generally out of the perpendicular; and everywhere the river view is
bounded by the snow-capped ranges of mountain, which, towards the
north, appear to rise almost from the very water’s edge.
July 2.—Taking the Q.M.G. as a guide, we sallied out immediately after
breakfast to explore the land part of this Eastern Venice. Entering at
the city gate, on the left bank of the river, near the Maharajah’s
palace, we walked past a row of trumpery pop-guns, on green and red
carriages, and so through the most filthy and odoriferous bazaar I ever
met with, till we reached the residence of Saifula Baba, the great
shawl merchant of Sirinugger. Here we found a noted shawl fancier
inspecting the stock, and were inducted to the mysteries of the
different fabrics. Some that we saw were of beautiful workmanship, but
dangerous to an uninitiated purchaser. They ranged from 300 to 1,000
rupees generally, but could be ordered to an almost unlimited extent of
price. After inspecting a quantity of Pushmeena and other local
manufactures, Mr. Saifula Baba handed us tea and sweetmeats, after the
fashion of his country; and we adjourned to the abode of a worker in
papier maché, where we underwent a second edition of tea and
sweetmeats, and inspected a number of curiosities. The chief and only
beauty of the work was in the strangeness of the design; and some of
the shawl patterns, reproduced on boxes, &c., were pretty in their way,
but as manufacturers of papier maché simply, the Cashmeeries were a
long way behind the age.
On reaching home, we found that the Maharajah had sent his salaam,
together with the information that he was going to give a nach and
dinner, to which we were invited.
July 3.—After continuing our explorations of Sirinugger, we repaired,
about seven o’clock, to the Maharajah’s palace, where we were received
by a guard of honour of sixty men and four officers, the latter in gold
embroidered dresses, and hung all over with ear-rings and finery of
divers sorts and kinds.
Ascending the stairs, we were met by the Deewan, or prime minister, who
conducted us into an open sort of terrace over the river, where we
found the Maharajah with the few English officers already arrived
seated on either side of him, and the nach-girls, about twenty in
number, squatted in a semicircle opposite them. Standing behind his
Highness were colonels of regiments and native dignitaries of all
sorts, dressed in cloth of gold and jewels, and in every variety and
hue of turban and appointments. A number of these were Sikhs; and
magnificent-looking men they were, with their flowing dress and
fiercely-twisted whiskers and mustachios. The nach-girls, too—a motley
group—were attired in all the hues of the rainbow, and with the
white-robed musicians behind them, awaited in patience the signal to
commence. In singular contrast to this glittering throng, which formed
the court, were the guests whom the Maharajah, on this occasion,
delighted to honour. The British officer appeared generally in the
national but uncourtly costume of a shooting jacket! and though some
few had donned their uniform, and one rejoiced in the traditional
swallow-tail of unmistakeable civilization, neither the one nor the
other contrasted favourably in point of grace with the Cashmerian rank
and fashion.
After shaking hands with his Highness, who prides himself upon his
English way of accomplishing that ceremony, and does it by slipping
into one’s hand what might be taken for a dying flat fish, we took our
seats, and the dancing began shortly afterwards. Though on a more
magnificent scale than anything I had seen of the kind before, the
programme was flat and insipid enough. The ladies came out two and two,
and went through a monotonous die-away movement, acting, dancing, and
singing all at the same time, and showing off their red-stained palms
and the soles of their feet to the best advantage. Some of the women
were very pretty, but very properly they modified their charms by
dressing in the most unbecoming manner possible. Their head-dress was a
little cloth of gold and silver cap hung all round with pendent
ornaments, and these were becoming enough, but the remainder of the
dress was much more trying. A short body of shot silk was separated by
a natural border from a gauze skirt, which hung down perfectly straight
and innocent of fulness, and allowed a pair of white pyjamas to appear
beneath. These were fastened tightly round the ancles, which were
encircled by little bunches of the tinkling bells, which the ladies
make such use of in the dance. Round the shoulders comes a filmy scarf
of various colours, which also plays a prominent part in all their
movements, and answers in its way to the fan of more accomplished
Western belles.
After each couple had gone through the whole of their performances,
they used to squat themselves down suddenly in the most ungraceful
style imaginable, and were then relieved by another pair of artistes
from the group.
One lady, in addition to the dance, favoured us with “the Marseillaise”
with the French words, being occasionally prompted by the head of the
orchestra, who nearly worked himself into a frenzy while accompanying
the dancers with both vocal and instrumental music at the same time.
The Maharajah himself was plainly dressed in white robes, with a pair
of pale-green striped silk pantaloons fitting his legs like stockings
from the knee down, and terminating in a pair of English socks, of
which he seemed immensely proud. His turban was of the palest shade of
green, and (in strong contrast to the rest of his court) without any
ornament whatever. The little heir to the throne—a nice little
blackamoor of about eight years of age—was, like his father, perched
upon a chair, and arrayed in a green and gold turban, pants, and socks,
with the addition of a velvet gold-embroidered coat, while round his
neck were three or four valuable necklaces, one of pear-shaped emeralds
of great size and beauty. After a few dances the doors of the
banqueting-room were thrown open, and his Highness led the way into
dinner with the commissioner. On entering, we found a capital dinner
laid out English fashion, and with a formidable army of black bottles
ranged along the table. The Maharajah, however, had disappeared, and we
were left to feed without a host. The grandees, meanwhile, remained
outside, and still enjoyed the dances, ranging themselves upon their
haunches in front of the rows of chairs which not one among them would
have dared to trust himself in for either love or money. Considering
that our entertainer was a Hindoo, and that his dinner-giving
appliances were limited, each person having to bring his own knife,
fork, spoon, and chair, we fared very well, and after having drunk his
health, again assembled in the court, where we found Rumbeer Singh
still occupied with the wearisome nach, and reattired in a gorgeous
dress of green velvet and gold. After a short stay he got up, and we
all followed his example, glad enough to bring the entertainment to an
end, and betake ourselves to our boats. At the stairs there was a
desperate encounter with innumerable boatmen, each boat having six,
eight, or ten sailors, and all being equally anxious to uphold the
credit of their craft by being the first to land their masters safe, at
home. We were fortunate enough to reach our own at once, and, with a
shouting crew, away we dashed up the river, leaving the others
struggling, fighting, and flourishing their paddles in the air, in a
way which was more suggestive of an insurrection scene in Masaniello
than the departure of guests from a peaceable gentleman’s own hall door
on the night of an evening party.
On the stairs there was an extraordinary assemblage of slippers, which
seemed to hold the same relative position that hats and cloaks do in
more enlightened communities—that is, the good ones were taken by the
owners of the bad, and the proprietors of the bad ones were fain to
make the best of the exchange. Next morning our khidmutgar came up with
a most doleful countenance and presented to our notice a pair of
certainly most ill-favoured slippers, which a fellow true-believer had
inadvertently substituted for a pair of later date. The lost ones had,
in fact, only recently been received from the boot-maker; and the blow
was difficult to bear with resignation, even by the saintliest follower
of Islam—a reputation which our retainer came short of by a very long
way indeed.
July 4.—Having an accumulation of letters to answer, we devoted the day
to writing—merely enjoying a little otium cum dig.—in the evening,
reclining in our boat while serenaded by the crew of boatmen.
July 5.—Walked up, before daybreak, to the Tukht e Sûleeman, or
Solomon’s throne, “the mountainous Portal,” which Moore speaks of
in Lalla Rookh, and which forms the most striking landmark in the
valley.[8]
From the summit there was a curious view of the multitudinous wooden
houses and the sinuous windings of the river, which could alone be
obtained from such a bird’s-eye point of inspection. An old temple at
the top was in the hands of the Hindoo faction, being dedicated to the
goddess Mahadewee, and in charge of it I found two of the dirtiest
fukeers, or religious mendicants, I ever had the pleasure of meeting.
One was lying asleep, with his feet in a heap of dust and ashes, and
the other was listlessly sitting, without moving a muscle, warming
himself in the morning sun. Both were almost naked, and had their
bodies and faces smeared with ashes and their hair long and matted.
They appeared to have arrived at a state of almost entire abstraction,
and neither of them even raised his eyes or seemed to be in the
slightest degree aware of my presence, although I took a sketch of one
of them, and stared at both, very much as I would have done at some new
arrival of animals in the Zoological Gardens.
In the evening we went again to Saifula Baba’s and visited the
workrooms, where we were much astonished by the quickness with which
the people worked the intricate shawl patterns with a simple needle,
and no copy to guide them.
The first stages of the work are not very promising, but the finished
result, when pressed and rolled and duly exhibited by that true
believer Saifula Baba, in his snowy gown and turban, was certainly in
every way worthy of its reputation.
Returning home, we visited a garden where any of the English visitors
who die in the valley are buried—the Maharajah presenting a Cashmere
shawl, in some instances, to wrap the body in. There were about eight
or ten monuments built of plaster, with small square slabs for
inscriptions. One of these was turned topsy-turvey, which was not to be
wondered at, for a native almost always holds English characters
upside-down when either trying to decipher them himself or when holding
them to be read by others.
July 6.—In the early morning I ascended to the throne of Solomon, in
order to get a sketch of the Fort of Hurree Purbut, and in the
afternoon we repaired to the lake behind the town, where there was a
grand Mela or fair, on the water, to which the Maharajah and all his
court went in state. The lake is beautifully situated at the foot of
the mountains, and was covered so densely in many parts with weed and
water-plants that it bore quite the appearance of a floating garden;
and as the innumerable boats paddled about, with their bright and sunny
cargoes, talking and laughing and enjoying themselves to their heart’s
content, the scene began to identify itself in some measure with
Moore’s description of the “Sunny lake of cool Cashmere,” and its
“Plane-tree isle reflected clear,” although the poet’s eyes had never
rested on either lake or isle. Putting poetry on one side, however, for
the present, we made our way to the extremity of the lake, in order to
pay a visit to his Highness’s gaol, where we were received by a very
civil gaoler, equipped with a massive sword and dilapidated shield. We
found 110 prisoners in the place, employed generally in converting dhan
into chawul, or, in other words, clearing the rice-crop. There was also
a mill for mustard oil, and the most primitive machine for boring
fire-arms ever invented, both worked by water-power. The prison dress
was uniform in the extreme: it consisted simply of a suit of heavy
leg-irons and nothing more!
After seeing the fair, we paddled across through a perfect water-meadow
to the Shalimar gardens, where we found the Rajah and his suite just
taking their departure. The vista on entering the gardens was extremely
pretty: four waterfalls appear at the same moment, sending a clear
sheet of crystal water over a broad stone slab, and gradually receding
from sight in the wooded distance. A broad canal runs right through the
gardens, bridged at intervals by summer-houses and crossed by carved
and quaintly-fashioned stepping stones. At the extremity there is a
magnificent baradurree of black marble, which looks as if it had been
many centuries in existence, and had originally figured in some very
different situation. The pillars were entire to a length of seven feet,
and were highly polished from the people leaning against them. Around
this, in reservoirs of water, were about two hundred fountains, all
spouting away together, and on one side a sheet of the most perfectly
still water I ever saw. It appeared exactly like a large looking-glass,
and it was impossible to discern where the artificial bank which
inclosed it either began or terminated.
In these gardens it was that Selim, or Jehangeer the son of Akbar, used
to spend so many of his days with the far-famed Noor Jehan in the
beginning of the seventeenth century, and here was the scene of their
reconciliation, as related by Feramorz to Lalla Rookh ere he revealed
himself to her as her future lord, the king of Bucharia. From these
founts and streams it was that the fair Persian sought to entice her
lord, with “Fly to the desert, fly with me!”
“When breathing, as she did, a tone
To earthly lutes and lips unknown;
With every chord fresh from the touch
Of Music’s spirit,—’twas too much!”
“The light of the universe” overcomes even the “conqueror of the
world.” Thinking it, after all, wiser to kiss and be friends than be
sulky, he surrenders at discretion:—
“And, happier now for all their sighs,
As on his arm her head reposes,
She whispers him with laughing eyes,
‘Remember, love, the Feast of Roses!’”
Leaving the favourite haunts of the “magnificent son of Akbar,” we
crossed the lake again to see the Maharajah inspect a party of about
2,000 soldiers, who were departing for the war at Girgit. Nothing in
the way of supplies being procurable near the scene of action, the
greater part of the review was taken up by the marching past of a horde
of Cashmeree and mountain porters, heavily laden with the sinews of
war. According to report, the pay of the army here is about five
shillings per mensem, with a ration of two pounds of rice per diem.
In the evening, the number of boats congregated on the lake was
marvellous. All were perfectly crammed with Cashmerian
pleasure-seekers; but the turbaned faithful, in spite of the pressure,
in no way lost their dignity, but with pipes and coffee enjoyed
themselves in apparently entire unconsciousness of there being a soul
on the lake beside themselves. The most wonderful sight, however, was
the immense crowd of many-coloured turbans congregated on shore,
witnessing the departure of the Cashmerian Guards; and as they thronged
the green slopes in thousands, they gave one quite the idea of a mass
of very violent-coloured flowers blooming together in a garden. On our
way home we had great jostling, and even fighting, in order to maintain
our position among the crowds of boats, the result of which was that
our crew managed to break two paddles in upholding the dignity and
respectability of their masters. The Maharajah himself, however, gave
us the go-by in great style, in a long quaint boat, propelled by
thirty-six boatmen, and built with a broad seat towards the bows, in
shape like the overgrown body of a gig in indifferent circumstances, on
which his Highness reclined. By his side was the little prince, in
glorious apparel, while half a dozen of his court, arrayed in spotless
white, appeared like so many snow-drifts lying at his feet.
July 7.—Made our arrangements to-day for a trip by water to the Wûler
Lake, and spent the afternoon in inspecting the jeweller’s and other
shops in the city. The native workmen appear to engrave cleverly both
on stone and metal, and some of their performances would bear
comparison with any European workmanship of a similar kind. They also
work in filagree silver, charging about sixpence in every two
shillings’ worth of silver for their labour. About nine P.M. we took to
our boats; F. and I occupying one together, in which we stowed bedding,
dressing-things, &c. while the cooking apparatus and servants occupied
the other. Passed the night very comfortably, and found the situation
most conducive to sleep, as we glided gently along with the stream.
July 8.—Awoke to find an innumerable swarm of mosquitoes buzzing about
our habitation, and apparently endeavouring to carry it off bodily.
Letting down, however, the muslin curtains, which the foreknowledge of
the faithful Q.M.G. had provided us with, we succeeded in puzzling the
enemy for the time being. About eight o’clock, the fleet came to an
anchor at a luxuriant little island at the entrance of the great lake;
to all appearance, however, it might have been situated in a meadow,
for we had to force our way to it through a perfect plain of green
water-plants, whose slimy verdure covered the face of the lake for
miles around. It was wooded by mulberry trees, very prettily entwined
with wild vines, and in the midst were the remains of an old Musjid, in
which we discovered a slab of black marble, covered with a beautifully
carved inscription in Arabic, and appearing as if it had not always
held the ignoble position which it now occupied. Scattered about the
island, also, were many scraps of columns and carved stones, which gave
evidence of having belonged to some ancient temple or palace. While
thus surveying our island, we were pestered to death by swarms of
prodigious mosquitoes, for which the Wûler Lake is justly celebrated,
and during breakfast the eating was quite as much on their side as
ours; so that we were glad to weigh anchor, and with our curtains
tightly tucked in around us, we floated away, in lazy enjoyment of
climate and scenery, towards the centre of the lake. As we cleared the
margin of the water-plants, we found ourselves on a glassy surface,
extending away towards the west as far as the eye could see, and
bordered on all sides by gorgeous mountains and ranges of snow. Around
the edges of the lake a sunny mirage was playing tricks with the cattle
and the objects on the banks, and as we glided lazily on with the
stream, and the splashing paddles, and even the foiled mosquitoes, made
music about us, we began to enter more into the spirit of our
situation, and to appreciate the peculiar beauties of the “sunny lake
of cool Cashmere,” with the dolce far niente existence which of right
belongs to it. About one o’clock we reached Sompoor, at the Baramoula
extremity of the lake, and as it came on to blow a little, it was not
too soon: our boats were totally unadapted for anything rougher than a
mill-pond, and in the ripple excited by the small puffs of wind, I had
the misfortune to ship what was, under the circumstances, a heavy sea,
and so sacrificed the prospects of a dry lodging for the night. Sompoor
we found a picturesque but dirty village, with promise of good fishing,
in the river below it. We unfortunately had no tackle, but the boatmen
succeeded in catching five or six good fish with a hook baited with a
mulberry only: a very favourite article of consumption, apparently,
among the Cashmerian little fishes.
Dropping down the river, we dined on the bank among the mulberry trees,
and I afterwards essayed to take a sketch of the village; such a firm
and determined body of mosquitoes, however, immediately fell upon me,
that, after a short but unsuccessful combat, I was fairly put to
flight, and Sompoor remained undrawn. We passed the night above the
town, ready for an early start in the morning.
July 9.—Left our moorings before sunrise, and halted about eight A.M.
at a little island stacked with elephant-grass, where, after as good a
swim as the tangled weeds would permit, we breakfasted pleasantly under
the trees.
From this point we adopted a new mode of progression, the boatmen
towing us from the bank; and the motion was a great improvement on the
paddling system, except that it had a tendency to set one to sleep
altogether. Reached Sirinugger, and our camp again, at four P.M.
July 10.—Paid Saifula Baba, the shawl merchant, a visit to-day, in
order to get a bill of exchange on Umritsur cashed. Found him just
going out to Mosque, in his snow-white robe and turban, cleanly-shaved
pate, and golden slippers. Not having any money, he promised us a
hundred rupees of the Maharajah’s coinage to go on with. These nominal
rupees are each value 10 annas, or 1s. 3d., the most chipped and
mutilated objects imaginable. On one face of the coin are the letters
I.H.S. stamped, a strange enough device for a heathen or any other mint
to have adopted. While floating about the Eastern Venice, we discovered
a number of finely-cut old blocks of stone in the built-up wall which
bounded the river; and on inspecting the place, we came upon an ancient
Mussulman cemetery and ruined Musjid, in which there were some very
antique-looking carvings, which apparently had commenced life elsewhere
than on Mussulman ground. The graveyard, however, was itself extremely
old, although many of the turbaned and lettered tombstones of the
faithful were in perfect preservation. All began with the “La Ulah ila
Ullah,” or “B’ism Ullah,” [9] with which everything connected with a
Mussulman does commence, either in life or death.
All through the city one can trace the remains of some much more
ancient structure in the huge blocks of carved stone which are
scattered about among their more plebeian brethren, and serve to form
with them, in humble forgetfulness of past grandeur, the foundations of
the lofty rattletrap but picturesque wooden structures which line both
sides of the river and form the city of Cashmere in the year of grace
1860.
Some of these houses, as one looks into the narrow lanes leading to the
river and sees them in profile, are apparently in the last stage of
dissolution, leaning out of the perpendicular and overtopping their
lower stories and foundations in a way that would put even the leaning
tower of Pisa to shame. One six-storied house, of long experience in
this crooked world, had made the most wonderful efforts to redeem his
character and to recover his equilibrium by leaning the contrary way
aloft from what he did below. Poor fellow! he had been but badly
conducted in his youth, and was nobly endeavouring to correct his ways
in a mossy and dilapidated old age. The tracery of much of the
wood-work carvings, and particularly of the windows, varies greatly,
and in some places is so minute that it requires close inspection to
find out the design. Of these the Zenana windows of the Maharajah’s
palace are about the finest specimens; but as there is no way of
approaching them closely, it is impossible to make out their details.
July 11.—Started this evening by water for Islamabad, the ancient
capital of Cashmere.
We made a slight change in our arrangements, rather for the better, by
hiring a large boat for ourselves and handing our own over to the
servants and culinary department in general.
July 12.—Found ourselves not very far on our road on awakening this
morning, the night having been very dark, the current strong against
us, and the sailors lazy.
Another cause of delay also, if these were insufficient, was, that the
proprietor of the boat dropped his turban overboard, with two rupees in
the folds of it, and the old lady his spouse had stopped the fleet for
at least an hour to cry over the misfortune. Before breakfast we had a
swim, and found ourselves only just able to make way against the
stream. Breakfasted on the river bank, under the trees, and surrounded
by rocky snow-capped mountains. Reading, scribbling, and eating
apricots brought us to about an hour before sunset, when F. and I
landed and went ahead to pick out a spot for a dining-room for
ourselves. In the search, we passed through orchards and gardens
innumerable, and finally decided upon a grove of magnificent sycamores
on the river bank, where we laid out our table just as the sun went
down. Within view was a picturesque old wooden bridge, on the mossy
tree-formed piles of which the bushes were growing, as if quite at
home, and hanging gracefully over the flowing river.
July 13.—Found ourselves at sunrise at the end of our boat journey,
bathed in the river, and started for Islamabad, about half a kos off.
On the bank we found three other travellers encamped, and leaving them
fast asleep, we pushed ahead and took possession of the baraduree. This
we found a charming little place in a garden, full of ponds of sacred
fish, with old carved stones scattered about, belonging to the Hindoo
mythology. Through one corner of an upper tank a stream of crystal
water flowed in from the mountain which rose perpendicularly behind
it—the water welling up from below in a constant and abundant stream.
Round this corner were some most grotesque stones; and here the sacred
fish were assembled in such shoals as to jostle each other almost out
of the water; but whether they were attracted by the fresh supply of
water or the sacred images covered as they were with votive offerings
of milk and rice, flowers, &c., the fish or the Brahmins alone can
tell.
Tradition states that an infidel Christian officer once killed three of
these fish, and having eaten one of them, died shortly after. Putting
their sanctity out of the question, however, the little creatures are
so tame and so numerous that few people would be inclined either to
kill or to eat them. While feeding them with bread, I could have caught
any number with my hand; and holding a piece of tough crust under
water, it was amusing to feel them tugging and hauling at it, making
occasional snaps at one’s fingers in their efforts. They were generally
about half a pound in weight.
Our baraduree was built of wood, in the usual style, with latticed
windows of various designs, and having one room overhanging the stream
which ran through the centre of the house from the sacred tanks.
Directly below the place we occupied was a little waterfall, which
conversed pleasantly day and night; and by taking-up a loose plank in
the floor we could see as well as hear it. Learning that there were
some ruins in the neighbourhood, supposed to have existed from before
the birth of our Saviour, we started in the afternoon for a place
called Bowūn, or more popularly Mutton, about two and a half kos off.
The sun to-day we found very hot in this same valley of coolness, its
rays coming down on the backs of our heads in a very searching and
inquisitive manner. Along the entire path there were running streams in
every direction: and what with these and the magnificent sycamores and
walnut-trees which shaded us as we walked, our opinions of the beauty
of the country got a considerable rise. The path from the Peer Punjal
Pass by which we entered appears to be the worst point of view from
which to see the valley. From either the Peshawur or Murree roads the
effect is much finer; and from the north-east, from which direction it
is perhaps seldomer seen than any other, it looks greener and more
beautiful than from either of the other points.
At Mutton we found our three lazy friends of the morning, encamped
under the trees reading green railway-novels, and evidently very much
puzzled how to kill time. Beyond a tank teeming with sacred fishes,
there appeared nothing whatever to be seen here. Taking warning from
this, we thought it not worth while proceeding to Bamazoo, where we
were told there were caves; but, treating the fishes to a small coin’s
worth of Indian maize, we retraced our steps and diverged about a kos
off the Islamabad road to Pandau. Here we were rewarded by coming
suddenly upon a magnificent old Cyclopeian ruin of grey stone, bearing,
from a little distance, the appearance rather of an ancient Christian
Church—such as may be seen occasionally in Ireland—than of a heathen
place of worship. On entering, we found a number of ancient carvings on
the massive stone walls, but they were much worn, and the designs to us
were unintelligible. Some of them were like the Hindoo divinities,
while others were more like Christian devices, such as cherubims, &c.
Altogether, it puzzled us completely as to its origin; but there was no
doubt whatever as to its having existed from an extremely ancient date;
and from its general style, as well as the absence of any similitude to
any other place of heathen worship we have met, we set it down in our
own minds as most probably a temple to the Sun. [10] Most of the
figures, as far as their worn state would allow one to judge, appeared
to be female; and there was an entire absence of any symbol at all
resembling a cross. Many of the huge pillars had been eaten away as if
they were of wood, by the combined effects of wind and weather; but
hands had also been at work, as pieces of the decorations and figures
appeared scattered about in every direction.
Passing through the town of Islamabad on our return, we went into some
of the houses to see the people at work at the loom-made shawls. Very
hard-working and intricate business it seemed to be, and very hard and
Manchestery the production looked to my eye, far inferior to the
hand-made, shawl, though not generally considered so.
I tried to negotiate a shawl with the overseer, but he assured me that
the pieces were all made separately, and were sent in to the merchant
at Sirinugger to be put together, and that he in fact had nothing
whatever to do with the sale of them.
In the evening we dined at a fashionably late hour, and were lulled to
sleep by the simple music of our domesticated waterfall.
July 14.—Started at daybreak for Atchabull, three and a half kos off
towards the north-east. The baraduree we found situated in the middle
of a large reservoir, in a beautiful but half-ruined garden; and here,
the commissariat being unusually late in arriving, we took the edge off
our appetites with a quantity of small apricots, red plums, cherries,
&c.
While exploring the gardens, we found, among other remains of grandeur,
a Humaam, or hot-bath room, which was in very good preservation, and
had probably in its day been honoured by the fair presence of Noor
Jehan, with whom Atchabull was a favourite resort, and who has been, at
one time or another, over all these gardens, during her lord’s visit to
the valley.
About thirty yards from the house, at the base of an almost
perpendicular hill, were the great sources of interest which the place
possesses—viz., a number of springs of ice-cold water, bubbling up to a
height of two or three feet above the surrounding water level, and
forming three separate rivers: one in the centre which expanded round
our house, and one on either side. Around were fruit-trees of all sorts
and kinds, and from every quarter came the gurgling sound of rushing
water mingled with the singing of innumerable birds. Here sweetly
indeed do the “founts of the valley fall;” and their number and beauty,
as well as the purity of the clear and crystal streams which they pour
over the length and breadth of the land, it is which forms one of its
chief and pleasantest features, and has, no doubt, mainly contributed
to its reputation as a terrestrial paradise. To the abundance of these
streams the inhabitants are indebted for the crops of waving rice which
spread their delicately-green carpetting over the entire valley; the
purity of the waters give to the silks the brightness of their dyes and
to their shawls their fame; and from its virtues also the love-lighted
eyes are supposed to derive their far-famed lustre. No wonder,
therefore, that to the Hindoo at least, “Cashmere is all holy land.”
From his sun-burnt plains and his home by the muddy banks of his sacred
Ganges, he can form but a small conception of these cooling streams and
shady pleasures. Should he happen to read the glowing descriptions of
Lalla Rookh, and be perhaps led to reflect that—
“If woman can make the worst wilderness dear,
What a heaven she must make of Cashmere!”
He no doubt ejaculates “Wa, wa!” in admiration of the poetry of the
West, and thinks complacently of the partner of his joys as all his
fancy painted her. His highest flights of imagination, however,
probably fail to transplant him very far beyond the actual wilderness
which bounds his mortal vision, while Pudmawutee and Oonmadinee, as
here depicted by his own artistic skill, present, in all their
loveliness of form and feature, his best conceptions of ideal worth and
beauty. No wonder, therefore, that the reality of
“Those roses, the brightest that earth ever gave,
Those grottoes and gardens and fountains so clear!”
and above all of—
“Those love-lighted eyes that hang over their wave,” [11]
should shed its influence largely on his imagination, and that, in
contrast to his own dry and dusty native plains, Cashmere should well
be called the Hindoo’s Paradise.
July 15.—Marched at dawn for Vernagh, a distance of eight kos, rather
over a Sabbath-day’s journey. Here we had to wait a considerable time
for our breakfast, the cook being an indifferent pedestrian and the day
a very hot one. The baradurree was curiously built, close to an octagon
tank, the water from which ran at a great pace through an arch in the
middle of the house. [12] The tank was supplied with water in great
volume, but from no apparent source, and was filled with fine fish, all
sacred, and as fat as butter, from the plentiful support they receive
from the devout among the Hindoos, not to mention the unbelieving
travellers, who also supply them for amusement. The tank itself, the
natives informed us, was bottomless, and it really appeared to be so;
for from the windows of the baradurree, some fifty feet over the water,
we could see the sides stretching back as they descended, and losing
themselves in the clear water, which looked, from the intensity of its
blue, both deep and treacherous to an unlimited extent. The water, too,
was so intensely, icily cold, that an attempt to swim across it would
have been a dangerous undertaking, and neither F. nor I could summon
courage to jump in. We, however, bathed in the stream which ran out of
the inexhaustible reservoir, and its effect we found very similar to
that of hot water, so that a little of it went a very long way with us.
As for the fish, they swarmed in such numbers that they jostled each
other fairly out of the water in a dense living mass, while striving
for grains of rice and bread.
This also was a favourite resort of Jehangeer and Noor Jehan; and I
found an inscription in the Persian character which, in a sentence
according to Eastern custom, fixed the date of the erection of the
building attached to the tank as A.H. 1029, or, about A.D. 1619. The
inscription runs thus:—
“The king of seven climes, the spreader of justice, Abdool,
Mûzuffer, Noor-ûl-deen [13] Jehangeer Badshah, son of Akbar,
conqueror of kings, on the day of the 11th year of his reign paid a
visit to this fountain of favour, and by his order this building
has been completed. By means of Jehangeer Shah, son of Akbar Shah,
this building has raised its head to the heavens.”
“The ‘Inventor of Wisdom’ has fixed its date in this line,
viz:—‘Aqsirabad o Chushma Wurnak.’”
The fountain or reservoir, and the canal, &c. seem to have been the
work of Shah Jehan, Noor Jehan’s son, or were probably remodelled in
his reign. The inscription referring to them runs also in the Persian
character on a slab of copper:
“Hyan, by order of Shah Jahan, King, thanks be to God, built this
fountain and canal. From these have the country of Cashmere become
renowned, and the fountains aye as the fountains of Paradise.”
“The poet Survashi Ghaib has written the date in this sentence,
viz:—‘From the waters of Paradise have these fountains flowed.’”
July 16.—On the road again at daybreak, with the intention of going to
a place called Kûkûnath, where there were more springs, and which, from
information obtained from the sepoy who accompanied us, was on our road
to Islamabad. However, like most information relative to either
direction or to distance in this country, it turned out to be wrong,
and we accordingly altered our course and made for our old quarters.
Breakfasted under a huge walnut-tree, at a village about six kos off,
and reached Islamabad about one P.M., after a very hot tramp of ten
kos, through groves of sycamore and walnuts, and hundreds and hundreds
of acres of rice-fields, immersed in water, and tenanted by whole
armies of croaking frogs. The people were principally employed in
weeding their rice-crops, standing up to their knees in mud and water,
and grubbing about, with their heads in a position admirably adapted to
give anybody but a native, apoplexy in such a hot sun.
July 17.—In the middle of the night we were awoke by a tremendous
uproar in our wooden habitation, as if some one was crashing about the
boards and panels with a big stick; immediately afterwards something
jumped upon my bed, and with a whisk and a rush, clattered through the
room to F.’s side, over the table, and back again to my quarter. Half
asleep and half awake, I hit out energetically, without encountering
anything of our uninvited guest; and the faithful Rajoo coming in with
a light, I found F. brandishing a stick valiantly in the air,
everything knocked about the room; an earthenware vessel of milk spilt
upon the floor, a tumbler broken, and a plate of biscuits on the table
with marks of teeth in them. This latter discovery was quite a relief
to my mind, for the visitation had a most diabolic savour about it, and
we were just beginning to fancy that there was a slight smell of
sulphur. However, the milk and the biscuits being such innocent food,
we were enabled to fancy that the intruder might have been no worse
than a wild cat, which had frightened itself by breaking, our tumbler,
and had eventually jumped through the window and made its escape. This
interpretation, however satisfactory to ourselves, was apparently not
so to the Q.M.G., and to his dying day he will probably remain rather
doubtful of the kind of company we kept that night.
At sunrise I paid another visit to the ruins of Pandau, or Martund, and
sketched it from the north-east; a view which took in the only columns
of any perfection that remained standing.
Islamabad being, as its name implies, the “abode of Mahomedanism,” I
had set the kotwal to work to procure me a good copy of the Koran.
On returning, however, I found that he had collected together a bundle
of the common editions printed in the Arabic alone, without
interlineations. He assured me, however, that they were rare and
valuable specimens; and I was amused by the old gentleman reading out a
passage in a sonorous voice, following each word with his finger, and
astonishing the bystanders by the display of his erudition; but at the
same time holding the precious volume upside down, and thus failing in
impressing at least one of his audience. In the evening we started
again for Sirinugger.
July 18.—Found ourselves, according to sailing directions, at anchor
this morning, or in other words, tied to an upright stick, at
Wentipore, on the left bank of the river, where there were some old
ruins to be seen.
The architecture we found very similar to the Pandau temple. One
column, however, was left standing, which was more perfect than any we
had seen before.
The ruins consisted of a large quadrangle, with cloisters all round,
and the remains of a temple in the centre; both these were completely
decayed, but the enormous stones piled together in grand confusion
showed that the buildings had been of considerable extent. [14] The
corner stones here alone pointed out the position of the cloisters,
which at Pandau had been in very fair preservation.
About fifty yards from the entrance there were three columns of
different form, sunk in the ground, their capitals just reaching a
little below the surface, and connected by trefoil arches, all in
pretty good preservation.
A few hundred yards down the river we found another large ruin, but in
a more dilapidated state than either of the others. In both, the
designs carved in the huge stones were something similar in
pattern—viz. a female figure, with what appeared to be a long strip of
drapery passing round either arm and descending to the ancles. It was
impossible to decipher the exact device, but the breast and head, in
most instances, were plainly distinguishable.
About three kos from Sirinugger, we stopped at another very extensive
site of Cyclopeian ruins, at a place called Pandreton. Here we found
the most perfect building of any we had met; and for a considerable
distance around were traces of what must have been, in ages past, a
city of some extent.
Among other interesting remains, there was the base of a colossal
figure standing in the midst of a field of cut corn. Only from the
knees down remained, but this block alone was over seven feet high; the
toes were mutilated a good deal, but the legs were in wonderful
preservation. There was also, about half a mile off, an enormous base
of a column, resting on its side, at the summit of a little eminence,
where a considerable amount of mechanical power must have been required
to place it. Its diameter was about six feet; and at some distance we
found the remainder of the column, split into three pieces. It was
about twelve feet long, the lower part polygon, the upper round, and
the top a cone similar in form to the stones dedicated to Mahadeö in
the temples of the Hindoos. The building which alone remained in at all
a perfect state was situated in a sort of pond or tank of slimy green,
and was quite inaccessible without a boat. [15] Sending on the cooking
apparatus and servants, I remained with the smaller boat; and with a
rug and a supply of biscuits, set to work to sketch the ruins. The
operation, however, was not performed without very great difficulty.
Innumerable mosquitoes made the spot their home, and at critical
moments they persisted in settling themselves in the most uncomfortable
positions. The ants, too, took a fancy to my paint-box, and even
endeavoured to carry off some of the colours; so that between the two I
was soon fairly put to flight, and obliged to evacuate the territory.
On consulting my Hindoo authority, Rajoo, on the subject of Cyclopeian
ruins, he tells me that they were built, not by man but by “the gods,”
in the Sut Jûg, or golden age, an epoch which existed no less than
2,165,000 years ago, or thereabouts!
This view of the matter increases the interest of the ruins immensely,
besides being very complimentary to the style of building practised by
“the gods” in that age.
The Hindoo ages are four, and we are believed to be at present in the
last of the four, of which 5,000 years have been already accomplished.
The names and duration are as follows, viz:—Sut Jûg, 1,728,000 years;
Treth Jûg, 1,296,000 years; Dûapûr Jûg, 864,000 years; and Kul Jûg.
432,000 years. This makes the present age of the world to be about
3,893,000 years!
About five P. M. I reached Sirinugger, and found the advanced guard in
possession of one of the bungalows. Spent the night in a succession of
skirmishes with innumerable fleas, who appeared to have been out of
society for a considerable time previous to our arrival. Up to this
moment I fancied that I knew something of the natural history of the
race, having studied them and fought with them and slept with them in
their happiest hunting grounds. Greek fleas, Albanian fleas, Tartar
fleas, Russian fleas, I had combated on their own soil, but never
before was I put to such utter confusion. All night long the enemy
poured in upon me, and several times during the action was I forced to
leave the field and recruit my shattered forces outside in the
moonlight. As day dawned, however, I fell upon the foe at a certain
advantage, and managed at last to get a few hours of sleep.
July 19.—Made an expedition to the small lake to see a building which
we were informed was built by the Puree, or fairies—the Peri of
poetical licence.
After a sharp struggle up a steep hill, under a hot sun, we reached the
building; but, to all appearance, the fairies had less to do with the
edifice than a race of very indifferent engineers. It was evidently the
remains of a hill fort, built of stones and mortar, and with nothing
wonderful in its construction whatever. It was tenanted by buffaloes
and a few natives; and having seen specimens of both before, we took
our departure again rather in a bad humour with both the fairies and
their partisans.
In the plain below we found the remains of Cyclopeian ruins in an
enormous block of stone, part of a column.
July 22.—Started this evening in the direction of the water-lake in
further search of ancient ruins.
July 23.—Found ourselves at daybreak among the mosquitoes in a little
stream about two kos from Patrun. After breakfasting, we started for
the vicinity of the ruins. As usual, in the villages we passed through,
we found traces of cut stone doing duty as washing-stones, or corners
of walls, &c; and at Patrun we found rather a fine old ruined temple,
something similar in style to those towards Islamabad. [16] It was
surrounded at some distance by trees, which had tended apparently to
preserve the building, for the stone carvings were clearer and less
decayed by time than any others we had seen. Being caught here in a
heavy rain, we had a scamper for our boats, and after a wet journey,
reached Sirinugger about eight P.M.
July 26.—Finding ourselves rather tired of Sirinugger, and with no
other books than Hindostanee to beguile the time, we resolved upon an
expedition across the mountains into the regions of Little Thibet.
Began preparations by hiring twelve coolies, at thirteen shillings each
per mensem, and a mate or head man to look after them. Increased our
stock of ducks to twelve, and otherwise added to our necessary stores,
and completed the arrangements for a move.
To-day a number of arrivals and departures took place, and the whole
settlement was in a state of excitement and confusion. Boatmen swarmed
about in rival application for employment, while all the rascals in the
place seemed to have assembled together for the occasion: those who had
bills, wanting to get them paid; and those who were either lucky or
unfortunate enough to have none, wanting to open them as soon as
possible with the new comers. What with these and pistol practice and
rifle shooting from upper casements across the river, in order to
expend spare ammunition, the European quarter was a very Babel all day
long, and we were not sorry to escape the turmoil and get under weigh
to new scenes as soon as possible.
About dusk we embarked in two large boats with Rajoo, the cook, and the
bhistie, the other servants remaining behind, much to their delight, to
take charge of spare baggage, &c. left in the bungalow. One of the
Maharajah’s army also accompanied us, a rough-and-ready-looking sepoy
irregular, whose duty it was to ferret out supplies and coolies, &c.
during our march, and at the same time, perhaps, to keep a watch over
our own movements and desperate designs. Passed the night under gauze
fortifications, the disappointed mosquitoes buzzing about outside in
myriads, and striving hard to take a fond farewell of their much-loved
foreign guests.
By strange sounds from the direction of my companion’s quarters, as if
of smacking of hands, &c., I was led to infer that they had partially
succeeded in bidding him good-bye. I, however, luckily escaped without
receiving even as much as a deputation from the enemy, and slept in
happy unconsciousness of their vicinity.