LITTLE THIBET.
July 27.—About six o’clock this morning we found ourselves at anchor
under the mountains at the northern extremity of the lake, and at the
mouth of a dashing river of ice-cold water, into which we lost no time
in plunging. On mustering our forces after breakfast, we found that our
possessions required fourteen coolies for their transport. Our own
immediate effects took four, viz. bedding two, guns one, and clothes,
&c. one; the kitchen required four more; tent one, charpoys one,
servants’ reserve supply of food one, brandy, one, plank for table and
tent poles one, and last though not least, the twelve ducks took up the
services of the fourteenth all to themselves. The rest of our train
consisted of the faithful Rajoo, who came entirely at his own request
to see a new country, the two servants, the sepoy, and the coolie’s
mate, who was to act as guide, carry small matters, and make himself
generally useful. After a most affectionate parting with our boatmen,
Messrs. Suttarah, Ramzan, Guffard, and Co., we started on our new
travels at about ten A.M. under a broiling sun. After several halts
under shady chestnuts, groves of mulberry, &c., and passing by a gentle
ascent through a lovely country, we came to our first encamping ground,
at Kungur, and pitched our tent under a chestnut grove, considerably
hot and tired by our first march, after all the ease and comparative
idleness we had of late been enjoying in the valley. Here we saw the
first of the system of extortion which goes on among the government
authorities and the people; for after the paymaster to the forces had
settled with the seven coolies who were not in our permanent employ,
not being able to take all as we had originally intended, they
assembled round us, and complained most dolefully of the smallness of
their pay. The sepoy, who appeared a most pugnacious customer, cuffed
some of them, and made desperate flourishes at others with a big stick,
and seemed altogether so anxious to prevent, as he said, the
“cherishers of the poor,” from being inconvenienced by the “scum of the
earth,” that we suspected something wrong, and on inquiring,
ascertained, that out of the amount due to the seven, viz. one rupee
five annas, or about two shillings and eightpence, the organ of
government had actually stopped eight annas, or one shilling. The
mistake we soon rectified, much to the delight of the “scum of the
earth,”—who had certainly earned their three annas, or fourpence
halfpenny per man, by carrying our impedimenta eight kos under a hot
sun,—and equally to the disgust of “the organ” who handed over the
difference with a very bad grace indeed, and was rather out of tune for
the rest of the day. Our hearts being expanded by this administration
of justice, we proceeded to a further act of charity, and emancipated
our twelve ducks from their basket, into a temporary pond constructed
for them by the bhistie, where they dabbled about to their hearts’
content, and soon forgot the sorrows of the road in a repast of meal
and rice.
July 28.—Marched at six A.M., and after proceeding about a kos found
that we were in for a regular wetting. Our path lay through a
beautifully wooded ravine with precipitous mountain peaks appearing
ahead in every direction: these, however, were soon shrouded in
impenetrable mist, which gradually gathered in about us, and proceeded
to inspect us in a most searching and uncomfortable way.
The road however, though beautiful, was by no means a good one, and it
was in many places difficult work to keep one’s feet in the wet slush,
over wooden bridges, or along the side of a dashing torrent which kept
us company, and which seemed to be labouring just now under an unusual
degree of temporary excitement, in consequence of having had too much
to drink. We had arranged to breakfast on the road, but the rain made
us push on, and on reaching the vicinity of our halting-place, we
stopped to inspect the condition of our garments, and to satisfy
ourselves as to our future prospects in the matter of dry changes of
raiment. On opening our small reserve, of which the mate had charge, I
found that sad havoc had been made in the precious articles we had been
so hopefully depending upon for comfort and consolation at the end of
our soaking march. The last efforts of our generally rather useless
dhobie had been brought to bear upon our present equipment. The massive
brass smoothing-iron and its owner had alike done their best to start
us creditably in life with the only clean linen we were likely to
behold for many weeks, and now nothing remained of the first instalment
of these spotless results, but a wringing mass of wet and dirty linen.
The sun, however, coming out opportunely to our assistance, we made the
best of our misfortune by spreading out our small wardrobe to the
greatest advantage in its rays. Our guide, who by the way appeared to
know nothing whatever about the path, proceeded to unroll his turban,
and divesting himself of his other garments, took to waving his entire
drapery to and fro in the breeze, with a view to getting rid of the
superfluous moisture. Leaving him to this little amusement, in which he
looked like a forlorn and shipwrecked mariner making signals of
distress, I repaired to a torrent close by, and after a satisfactory
bathe in the cold snow water, and very nearly losing the whole of my
personal property in the rushing stream, donned the few dry articles I
was possessed of, and proceeded to pick out our camping ground. We
fixed it among the scattered cottages of the little village of
Gûndisursing, and while waiting for the main body, stayed our appetites
with the few apricots we managed to discover on the already rather
closely picked trees.
Got breakfast at two P.M. just as the rain began to come down upon us
again. The supplies procurable here were flour, milk, fowls, and eggs;
butter, however, was not forthcoming.
July 29.—Marched early after enjoying a drier night than I had
anticipated from the look of the evening and the fine-drawn condition
of our tent.
Our road continued up a beautifully wooded and watered valley, and
reaching a gorge in the mountains, about five kos from our start, we
halted at a log hut a little way beyond a wooden settlement dignified
by the name of Gûgenigiera.
Here we had a bathe in the rushing snow torrent, a curious combination
of pain and pleasure, but the latter considerably predominating,
particularly when it was all over.
After breakfast we sent the coolies on again, intending to halt three
kos off; however, on reaching the ground, they unanimously requested to
be allowed to go on to the village of Soonamurg, the halting-place
shown on our route. It was altogether considerably over a Sabbath-day’s
journey, being nine kos of a bad mountain-path; but as no supplies
whatever were procurable short of it, we held on our course. After
leaving our halt, the path led us close to the torrent’s edge, and the
gorge narrowing very much, we were completely towered over in our march
by gigantic peaks of rock, blocks of which had come down from their
high estate at some remote period of their existence, and now occupied
equally prominent though humbler positions in the torrent’s bed below.
Occasionally they presented themselves in our actual path, and at one
place we found that our course was blocked completely, the inaccessible
mountain side descending precipitously to the torrent, and leaving us
no option but to take to the water, roaring and boiling as it was. Our
guide went first with great deliberation and groping his way with a
stick, and after an ineffectual attempt to scale the rock above, F. and
I also unwillingly followed his example. The water was piercingly cold
as it swept against us, and the pain was so great that we were glad to
blunder over as quickly as possible, without taking very much trouble
about picking our steps. After passing this in safety we came suddenly
upon a band of hill-men with their loads, from Thibet; they were the
first natives we had encountered, and wild and weird-looking savages
they appeared as they congregated about us, gibbering to each other in
their astonishment at our sudden appearance. With them, was a
strange-looking bullock, with long black mane and tail, and hind
quarters like a horse, which they apparently used for carrying their
merchandize. To-day we passed the first snow since leaving the valley,
although in the distance there was plenty of it to be seen.
Nothing could exceed the beauty of the view as we approached our
intended halting-place. Having crossed the torrent by a wooden bridge,
the mountains we had been winding through showed out in all their
grandeur, while above us, inaccessible peaks, with sharp and fanciful
projections, nestled their mighty heads among the fleecy clouds, which
hung about after the recent rains. In advance again, other mountain
ranges rose behind each other, clothed on their southern faces with
delicate grass up to the point where the snow lay lightly on their
rocky top-knots and hid itself among the clouds. From the bridge, a
rustic structure of entire pine-trees, we passed through an upper
valley carpeted with the brightest soft green pasturage, until we
reached the usual little cluster of dilapidated wooden tenements which
constitute a village in these mountains. This was Soonamurg, and
crossing another bridge, formed of two single giant pines, we came to a
halt and pitched our camp close to a huge bank of snow on the river’s
brink. What with our halt, and the badness of the path, we did not
arrive until five P.M., and as the sun set, the spray from our snowy
neighbour began to wrap its chilling influence about us, and we were
glad enough to invest ourselves in some thick cashmere wraps of native
manufacture, which we had hitherto considered merely as standbyes in
case of extraordinary cold on mountain tops.
According to general report, however, we only reach the foot of the
mountains to-morrow. This sounds well, considering that we have been
ascending steadily for three days, and have left huge avalanches of
snow beneath us, not to mention the mountains which we traversed on the
Peer Punjal side before even entering the Valley of Cashmere at all.
At Soonamurg, where we had been warned that there were no supplies, we
found large herds of sheep and goats. The people, however, were not at
all inclined to sell them, and we had some trouble in getting hold of a
couple of fine fat sheep from them, for which we paid, what was here
considered a high price, viz. two rupees, or four shillings each. We
also enlisted the temporary services of two hairy, horny goats, which
are to accompany us for the next three marches as portable dairies, no
supplies being procurable on the road. Butter and milk are both
forthcoming here in abundance, and occasionally rice is to be got.
Penetrated with the freshness of the mountain air and the freedom of
our vagabond life, we came unanimously to the conclusion that we had
made a wise exchange from the far niente dolces of Sirinugger, and
passed a vote of general confidence in the expedition.
July 30.—The wind this morning blew bitterly cold over the snow and
into our tent, rendering the operation of turning out rather more
unpopular than usual.
Got off, however, about six, and had a fine bracing march over a grassy
valley among the mountains. After about four kos, the sun began again
to assert his supremacy, and, in conjunction with the cold of the
morning, rather took liberties with our faces and hands. About half-way
we came upon the merry ring of axes among the trees, and found a party
of natives constructing a log-house for the benefit of travellers
towards Ladak. Pitched our camp in a wild spot at the foot of the
mountains, bathed in the snow water, and had a sheep killed for
breakfast.
One of the live stock died this morning: an unfortunate hen had been
sat upon by the ducks, and the result was asphyxia, and consignment to
the torrent.
July 31.—Finished up the month by a difficult march of four and twenty
miles, encamping at Pandras about eight P.M. and no longer at the foot
of the mountains. Immediately on leaving our halting-place we commenced
the ascent of a steep glacier, and for upwards of four miles our path
lay entirely over the snow: so dense and accumulated was it, that even
when the sun came out and burned fiercely into our faces and hands,
there was no impression whatever made on its icy surface.
The glacier was surrounded on all sides by peaks of perpetual snow,
while parts of it were of such ancient date that, ingrained as it was
with bits of stick and stones &c., it bore quite the appearance of
rock. The path was in some places so indistinct, that on one occasion I
found myself far ahead of the rest of the party, and approximating to
the clouds instead of to the direction of Ladak. About five kos on our
journey we halted to let the kitchen come up, and had our breakfast on
the snow in the company of a select party of marmots. The little
creatures appeared to live in great peace and seclusion here, for they
let us up, in their ignorance of fire-arms, to within thirty yards of
them before scuttling into their habitations. They were all dressed in
blackish brown suits of long thick fur, and considering that they live
in snow for at least eight months out of twelve, they appeared not the
least too warmly clothed. As we went by they used to come out and sit
up on their hind legs, with their fore paws hanging helplessly over
their paunches, while, with a shrill discordant cry, they bid us
good-morning and then hurried back to their houses again. Not having
our rifles handy they escaped scot free, otherwise we might have
borrowed a coat from one of them as a reminiscence of the country.
After another kos or two we began to get clear of the glacier; but
occasionally we came upon enormous masses of snow jammed up on either
side of the torrent, the action of the water having worn away the
centre. The path gradually led us through rocky passes, over torrents
spanned by snow among the magnificent mountain range; and although the
march was, rather long for a hill country, we found no fault with it
until about the last three kos, when it was getting late in the day,
and although fast becoming hungry, we saw no immediate prospect of
getting anything to eat.
The last few kos we find invariably longer than their fellows; one kos
by description, at this stage of the proceedings, being generally equal
to two in reality. Asking a native, how far we are from a
halting-place, is invariably answered in one of two ways: either thoree
door, not very far, or nuzdeek, close. Thoree door means generally
about four miles, while nuzdeek may be translated five at least. A kos
too, which ought to be from one and a half to two miles, means here
anything between one mile and seven. Delaying as much as possible, to
let our servants up, we reached Pandras at last, and found all the
inhabitants turned out to see our arrival; they were dressed in long
woollen coats and sheepskins, and looked something between Russians and
Tartars, with a strong flavour of the Esquimaux, as depicted by Polar
voyagers. As the sun went down it became bitterly cold, and we found
the natives even, shuddering under the influences of the snowy wind,
which, setting in from the mountains, appeared to blow from all points
of the compass at one and the same time. What the village of Pandras
must be in mid-winter it is hard to imagine, so covered with snow as
the mountains around it are even in August, and so bleak and so barren
the valley in which it is situated.
In spite of the cold, we astonished the entire swaddled population by
taking off our clothes, and bathing in a little crystal stream close
by: two operations, in all probability, which they themselves had never
perpetrated within the memory of the oldest inhabitant, This feat
accomplished, we were much astonished by the arrival of a rara avis, in
the shape of a British traveller, from the direction of Ladak. He
turned out to be an officer of the Government survey, now being carried
on in the mountains, and we took the opportunity of deriving from him
all the information we could, relative to the prospect before us. He
strongly recommended us to go to the monastery of Hemis, beyond Ladak,
and also to the Lakes, but the latter would appear to be beyond the
limits of our time. The only natives we had met during our unusually
long march to-day, were four hairy-looking savages from the interior,
from whom, after much difficulty, I succeeded in purchasing an
aboriginal tobacco-pouch, flint, and steel, all combined in one, paying
for the same about three times its actual and local value, viz. two
rupees. They were dressed in long woollen coats, with thick bands of
stuff rolled round their waists; and all four had bunches of yellow
flowers stuck in their caps, and pipes, knives, tobacco-pouches, &c.
hung round their girdles. Their shoes were of the Esquimaux pattern,
the soles sheepskin, coming up all round the front of the foot, where
they were joined by woollen continuations—shoes, socks, and leggings,
being thus conveniently amalgamated into one article of apparel.
August 1.—On the road a little later than usual, all hands being tired
after yesterday’s exertions. The path to-day lay among huge boulders of
rock, which had come down as specimens from the mountains above, and
after a short march of five kos, we reached Dras, a little assemblage
of flat-roofed houses, with a mud fort about half a mile from it, in
the valley. This was built with four bastions and a ditch scarped with
paving-stones, which surrounded it on all sides except one, where it
was naturally defended by the torrent. On the road we passed a curious
bridge, built entirely of rope manufactured from twigs of trees. The
cables thus formed were swung across the torrent, from piles of loose
stones, in a most scientific way, though not one calculated to inspire
confidence in any traveller with weak nerves who might have to trust
himself to its support. It appeared, nevertheless, a most serviceable
structure, and was decidedly picturesque. At Dras we were able to get
all supplies except fowls.
August 2.—Having a long and up-hill march before us, we were up and
dressed by moonlight. Outside the village, we came upon two curious old
stones, standing about six feet high, upright, and carved in the way we
had already seen at the ruins of Pandau and elsewhere. These stones
were of irregular form, and carved on three sides, and the designs,
though much worn, were distinctly traceable. They represented,
apparently, a male and female figure, standing about five feet high,
and surrounded by three smaller figures each. Like all the other
sculptured figures we had seen, they were innocent of clothes, with the
exception of the rope, or very scant drapery, which ran across their
ancles and up either side to the shoulders.
Leaving these, we passed through a wild and rugged valley among the
mountains, cultivated in patches, and watered by numerous little
sparkling crystal streams. At short intervals, there were little
settlements of mud huts, built, Tartar fashion, one on top of another,
and peopled by a few miserable-looking natives, who appeared, in their
woollen rags, to be cold, even in the middle of this summer’s day. The
few travellers we met during our march were flat nosed, heavy-looking
creatures, with Chinese skull-caps and pig-tails, and were employed in
conveying salt to Cashmere, packed in bags of woven hair, and laden on
cows and asses as weird and strange-looking as their owners. About five
kos off, we called a halt for breakfast, and reached Tusgam about four
P.M.
Here we found a few Arbor Vitæ, and other shrubs, in bad health, the
first of the tree species we had encountered since ascending the
glacier.
August 3.—Struck our camp at sunrise, and crossing the torrent, which
still accompanied us, descended the Pass by a slight decline. During
the day we passed through numerous gorges, studded with giant masses of
rock, and bounded on all sides by rugged and inhospitable mountains. We
only saw one village, and that some way off the road—Kurroo, the guide
called it. Breakfasted under an overhanging rock on the mountain side,
just where our path was, hemmed in by the torrent, and were disturbed
during our repast by several volleys of stones which rattled down over
us from above. They were set free by the melting of some large masses
of snow, which, being covered with sticks and dirt, we had not noticed
when we chose our breakfast parlour so close to their uncomfortable
proximity. To-day we met more salt-carrying parties—uncouth-looking
savages in pig-tails, speaking a language that not one of our party
could understand. We also encountered an original-looking gold-washing
association of five, who were wending their way towards the snow with
their wooden implements. They were all also weighted with bags of
grain, to keep them alive during their search. Their labour consists in
sifting the fine sand which comes down in the snow-torrents, charged
with minute particles of gold; and the proceeds, from the appearance of
“the trade,” would not seem to be very great. They say it amounts only
to a few annas a day, but would probably not allow to the full amount
for fear of being taxed.
At our breakfast-halt we saw the most primitive specimen of a smoking
apparatus probably ever invented. It consisted of a dab of mud stuck in
a hole of a tree, about five feet from the ground. Two small sticks,
inserted in this from above and below and then withdrawn, had evidently
served to form the smoke passage; while the bowl as evidently had been
fashioned by the simple impression of a Thibetian thumb, the whole
forming, for the use of needy travellers, as permanent and satisfactory
a public pipe as could well have been devised. It had just been in
requisition before we passed, for a small quantity of newly-burned
tobacco lay in the bowl; and a fresh patch of clay on the mouthpiece
had probably been added, either in the way of general repairs or by
some extra-fastidious traveller, who preferred having a private
mouthpiece of his own. After rather a severe march through rocky
mountain gorges, we reached Chungun, a little oasis of about five acres
of standing barley, with three or four flat-roofed houses dotted about
it in the usual Tartar style of architecture. It also boasted four
poplar-trees, standing in a stiff and reserved little row, evidently in
proud consciousness of their family importance among such rugged,
treeless, iron mountains.
It was altogether a refreshing little spot for a halt, after the savage
scenery we had marched through; and pitching our camp in it, we were
not long in introducing ourselves to the little brawling stream of
clear cold water to which it owed its existence.
August 4.—Started this morning in a mountain mist. Just outside the
village we passed the scene of the fall of an avalanche, which gave one
some faint idea of the enormous forces occasionally at work among these
mountains. It had taken a small village in its path, and over the place
where it had stood we now took our way, among a perfect chaos of masses
of rock, and uptorn earth, trees, &c. The whole ground was torn and
rent, as by the eruption of volcanoes or the explosion of enormous
magazines of powder. Passing this, our path continued to descend the
gorge until about two kos from Chungun, when another torrent came down
to join its forces to the one we were accompanying; and leaving our old
companion to roar its way down to join the Indus, we proceeded up the
valley in the society of our new friend. Passing a series of little
villages nestled among the rugged rocks, we crossed the stream by a
tree bridge and causeway, to the Fort of Kurgil, where, after a long
consultation, we breakfasted. The differences of opinion between the
guide and the rest of the natives as to the distance of a village
ahead, where milk and supplies were forthcoming, were so wide, some
saying three kos, others six, &c., that we finally determined upon
getting some breakfast before deciding the true distance for ourselves.
The village Hundas was another most perfect little oasis. It was only
about five or six acres in extent, under the frowning mountain, and was
terraced and planted in the neatest and most economical way imaginable.
The fields were beautifully clean, and were quaintly adorned in many
instances by huge blocks of rock from the mountain above, bigger
considerably than the whole of the houses of the village put together.
Leaving Kurgil, we made a sharp ascent, and crossed a plateau bounded
by some extremely curious formations of rock and sandstone.
The mountains appeared to have been reared on end and cut with a knife,
as if for the especial benefit of geologists in general, although the
hues of their many-coloured strata were calculated to attract even the
most ungeological mind by their brightness. Descending from this
plateau, we came to a pass dotted with three or four little villages,
wooded with poplars, and adorned with a few shrubs of different kinds.
Here every available inch of ground which the grudging rocks bestowed
was cultivated, although all around, the mud-built native huts were
broken down and deserted, in such numbers as to give the idea of an
Irish settlement whose inhabitants had transplanted themselves to
America. At the last of these little villages, called Pushkoom, we
pitched our camp, the retainers taking a fancy to the place from the
promise it gave of abundant supplies.
August 5.—Made our first day’s halt, and enjoyed it considerably—not
the least of its advantages being the immunity it gave us from being
torn out of bed at grey hours in the morning. The rest of the force
also appreciated the day of rest, and made themselves comfortable after
their fashion under our grove of trees.
In the afternoon I ascended the mountain opposite to reconnoitre and
inspect the curious formation of strata, which formed the principal
feature of the place.
The ascent I found at first to be over a soft crumbling small stone,
resembling ashes, but of various colours, and in distinctly-marked
strata. These were generally of pinkish red and grey, and from them in
large masses, rose enormous blocks of concrete, in all manner of forms
and shapes, some like towers and fortifications, and others standing
out boldly by themselves, worn by the weather into holes and ridges.
After a considerably difficult ascent, from the crumbling nature of the
stones, I reached the summit of the mountain, and climbing a concrete
monster which capped it, had a magnificent survey of the mountain
ranges and country around. In every direction the eye rested on snowy
summits, and the wind from them fell coolly and refreshingly after the
toil of ascent under a hot sun.
Returning through the village, I found the natives hard at work
collecting their crops of wheat and barley, and stowing them away,
generally upon the flat tops of their houses. They seemed altogether a
peaceful, primitive race; but, although their ground appears in
first-rate order, they themselves are uncultivated and dirty in the
extreme. The ladies, I am sorry to say, are even rather worse in this
matter than the gentlemen. The female costume consists generally of
robes of sheep and goat skins thrown across the shoulders; while a long
tail of twisted worsted plaits, looking like a collection of
old-fashioned bell-ropes, forms the chief decoration. This is attached
to the back hair, and hangs down quite to the heels, where it
terminates in a large tuft, with tassels and divers balls of worsted
attached to it. On a hill overhanging the village were the remains of a
mud fort, which had been pulled down by Gûlab Singh in one of his
excursions to Thibet, with a view to bringing the inhabitants to a
proper sense of their position, and enforcing the payment of his
tribute.
The number of battered and deserted huts about the village is accounted
for by the erratic habits of the people, which induce them never to
stay long in one set of houses, but to flit from one side of the valley
and from one settlement to another as the fancy strikes them. That the
large increase of the flea population among such a race, however, may
have something to do with their restlessness, seems more than probable.
Except when impressed for government employ, they seldom leave the
vicinity of their villages, and one old gentleman told me he had never
been even as far as a place called Lotzûm, which is only two kos off!
The religion seems to be a mixture of Buddhism and Mahomedanism—the
latter on the decrease as we get farther into the country.
The dress assimilates to the Chinese—pig-tails and little skull-caps
being the order of the day. We obtained here good supplies of cow’s
milk, butter, &c., and among other things, some peas. These enabled us
to celebrate our Sunday’s dinner by a “duck and green peas,” and never
since the first invention of ducks could a similar luxury have been so
thoroughly appreciated.
August 6.—Started early again, and marched five kos, through the little
half-deserted settlement of Lotzûm to the village of Shergol, where we
halted for breakfast. Here we found ourselves fairly among the
Buddhists, and saw an entirely new description of monuments connected
with religion, from anything we had yet encountered. The most striking
objects were a series of tomb-like buildings, without entrances, and
adorned on all sides by the most hideous effigies, rudely executed in
coloured mud. [17]
Some of these were men, depicted in bright red on a yellow ground, with
horrible staring countenances; others women, adorned with numberless
necklaces and other ornaments; besides these, there were peacocks,
griffins with human arms, deer, &c., and all in the most flaring
colours and the very rudest designs.
In the perpendicular face of a rock beyond was a very curious
monastery, or abode of the Lamas. It was built completely in the rock,
and was reached by a natural cavity on the face of the stone.
Jutting out from the upper part, balconies had been erected overhanging
the precipice, and these were decorated with red copings, spotted with
white. From the fact of only one of our party knowing the language, it
was difficult to ascertain from the natives the history of this curious
abode, but they gave us to understand that it was the home of their
Lamas, or spiritual preceptors. Here we met another of the race of
wandering Englishmen, who was wending his way back to the valley. He
was returning from a shooting tour, was all alone, and appeared to have
had very hard work indeed of it, if his face and hands and generally
dilapidated appearance might taken as a criterion. Not being quite in
such light marching order ourselves, we were able to ask him to
breakfast, and from his ready acceptance and the entire justice he did
to our offer, I don’t think he could have had anything to eat for a
week.
He appeared to be a thorough sportsman, and had bagged several head of
large game, which he showed us. They were principally a kind of wild
sheep with enormous heads and horns, each of his trophies being almost
a coolie load in itself. Leaving Shergol, we entered a curious valley
with rocks of concrete standing out like towers and fortifications, and
on the summits of these again, airy-looking habitations with red
streaks adorning them, and entered, as that at Shergol, by holes in the
face of the rock. These were, or had been, the abodes of the Lamas;
numbers of them now however, as well as the mud settlements at their
feet, appeared in ruins, and gave no sign of habitation, beyond having
about them a number of little flags stuck on long poles, which
fluttered about in the breeze. According to the account of our
interpreter, which had to pass from Thibetian into Hindostanee before
it could clothe itself in English, the cause of this dilapidation was
the state of wealth and ambition at which the Lamas had arrived, and
the consequent interposition of Gûlab Singh to take down their pride
and ease them of a little of their wealth, both of which he
accomplished in the style to which he was so partial, by slaughtering
some hundreds of them and reducing their airy habitations to ruins.
At a place called Moulwee we came to a curious block of massive rock
standing close beside the path, with one of the red-topped houses built
into its side. Above this was a colossal figure with four arms, rudely
cut on the face of the rock, and above all was perched an implement,
something after the fashion of a Mrs. Gamp’s umbrella of large
proportions, together with sundry sticks and rags, which seem to be the
common style of religious decoration in these parts.
The figure was about eighteen feet high, the lower extremities being
hidden behind the building at the base of the rock. It resembled in
some measure the sculptures occasionally seen among Hindoo temples, but
no one appeared to know anything whatever of its origin or history.
Close to this there were an immense number of stones collected
together, bearing inscriptions in two different characters, one of
which resembled slightly the Devanagree or Sanscrit. Seeing such a
profusion about, I appropriated one which happened to be conveniently
small, and carried it off in my pocket.
The sun being intensely powerful, we called a halt at a village named
Waka, perched among the rocks, where we found a rattletrap of a
baradurree, which saved us the trouble of pitching our tents. Opposite
to us was a curiously worn mass of concrete mountain, which might
easily have been mistaken for artificial lines of fortification, had
not the scale been so large as to preclude the possibility of any but
giants or fairies having been the engineers. At the head of the valley
there was a fine snow-covered mountain, which helped to keep us cool in
an otherwise excessively hot position. The cook having been rather
overcome by his exertions to-day, we got our dinner at the fashionable
hour of nine P.M.
August 7.—Starting from Waka at cock-crow, we marched up a steep
ascent, through a bleak-looking range of hills, to Khurboo, where we
bivouacked under a tree and got breakfast about noon.
Afterwards, I examined more minutely the inscription on the stones,
which, as we advanced into the country, appeared to increase
considerably in number. They consisted in almost every case of the same
word, containing five letters in one character and six in the other,
though I occasionally there were additional letters, and sometimes,
though very rarely, a stone with a different inscription altogether.
After a good deal of difficulty I succeeded in unearthing a Lama from
the village to help me in my researches, and a strange-looking
dignitary of the Church he turned out to be when he did make his
appearance. He was a bloated and fat old gentleman, dressed in a
yellowish red garment of no particular shape, and looked altogether
more like a moving bundle of red rags than anything else, human or
divine.
Finding that nothing was required of him more expensive than
information, he appeared delighted to show off his learning, and by
means of the sepoy, who was the only one of our party acquainted with
both Thibetan and Hindoostanee, I ascertained that the words carved
upon the stones were “Ûm mani panee,” and meant, as far as I could make
out, “the Supreme Being.” As the old gentleman repeated the mystic
syllables, he bobbed and scraped towards a strange-looking monument
close by, in an abject, deprecatory way, as if in extreme awe of its
presence. [18]
On inquiring the origin of this new structure, which was built of
stones and plaster, and decorated with red ochre, all we could get out
of him was a fresh string of “Ûm mani panees,” and a further series of
moppings and mowings, accompanied by a sagacious expression of his fat
countenance, indicative of the most entire satisfaction at the
clearness of his explanations, and a sense of his own importance as a
Lama and an expositor of the doctrines of Bûddh.
He also explained the only other inscription which I had seen; and
according to the interpretation of the sepoy, it ran thus:—“As God can
do so none other can.” [19]
Not another piece of information could I elicit relative to the
religion beyond the continual “Ûm mani panee, Ûm mani panee!” which our
friend seemed never tired of mumbling; and although the sepoy was, I
believe, considerably more adapted for the extraction of reluctant
supplies of food for our kitchen than for eliciting such information on
the subject of theology as I was in search of, the real cause of
failure was more to be attributed to the extreme ignorance of the
particular pillar of the Church that we had got hold of, than to any
little literary failings of the interpreter. Such were the quantities
of the inscribed stones about this place, that in one long wall I
estimated there must have been upwards of 3,000, and this in a country
where inhabitants of any sort are few and far between, and where none
appear who seem at all capable of executing such inscriptions.
August 8.—Having suffered a good deal yesterday from the heat of the
sun, we started this morning by a bright moonlight, at about half-past
four A.M.
Entering the Pass of Fotoola, we ascended gradually for some five kos,
and reached a considerable elevation, with a good deal of snow lying
about on the mountains. A peak on the right was 19,000 feet above the
sea level, and few of those in our immediate vicinity were under 17,000
feet. From the summit of this pass we descended about three kos to
Lamieroo, without passing a single hut or village on the entire road.
The only natives we encountered were a party of three from Ladak, on
their way to Cashmere, with a couple of fine native dogs, as a present
from the Thanadar to some of his visitors. The pedestrians one
generally meets now are old ladies, carrying conical baskets filled
with sulphur or saltpetre, in the direction of Cashmere, and so shy are
they, that on beholding “the white face” they drop their loads as if
shot, and scuttle away among the mountains, so that, if inclined, we
could seize upon the Maharajah’s munitions of war and carry them off
without difficulty. On reaching the vicinity of Lamieroo, the inscribed
stones became more frequent than ever. They were placed generally upon
long broad walls, the tops of which sloped slightly outwards, like the
roof of a house. Supplies of uncut stones were also in many instances
collected together in their vicinity, as if for the benefit of any
pedestrian who might feel inclined to carve out his future happiness by
adding to the collection. Lamieroo, as its name would seem to imply,
appears to have been a headquarters of the Lamas and their religion. It
contains a curious monastery, or Lamaserai, built upon the extreme top
ledge of a precipice of concrete stone, and at its base (some hundred
feet below) the habitations which constitute the village are also
perched on pinnacles of rock, and scattered about, often in the most
unlikely spots imaginable. Entering the bason formed by the valley in
which this curious settlement is situated, one opens suddenly by an
ascending turn upon the whole scene, and anything more startlingly
picturesque it would be hard to conceive. As the view appears, the
first objects presented are a host of little monument-like buildings,
which line the path and are dotted about in groups of from three to
twelve or fourteen together. They stand about seven feet high, and, as
far as we could make out from the natives, are erected over the defunct
Lamas and other saints of the Buddhist religion, after which they
become sacred in the eyes of the living, and are referred to with
scrapings and bowings and “Ûm mani panees” innumerable. In the
monastery we found twenty Lamas at present domiciled—fat,
comfortable-looking gentlemen they all were, dressed in orange-yellow
garments, and not a bit cleaner than the rest of the natives, nor
looking by any means more learned. Mounting the side of the bill, and
passing under one of the red-ring pillared monuments, we entered the
precincts of the monastery, and threading some very steep and dark
passages in the interior of the rock, were received by a deputation of
Lamas, with the salutation of “Joo, Joo!”
We were then ushered with great ceremony into their temple, much to the
awe and consternation of our guides, who apparently expected to see us
as much overcome by the sanctity of the place as they themselves were.
The temple we found a small square room with a gallery round it, from
which were suspended dingy-looking Chinese banners, flowers, &c., and
at one end were about twenty idols of various designs, seated in a row
staring straight before them, and covered with offerings of Indian
corn, yellow flowers, butter, &c. They were for the most part dressed
in Chinese fashion, and in the dusky light had certainly a queer
weird-looking appearance about them, which was quite enough to overawe
our village guide; not being accustomed to such saintly society, he
could hardly raise his eyes or speak above his breath, but stood with
hands joined together and in a supplicating posture, enough to melt the
heart of even the very ugliest of idols. The service (by particular
desire) began by three of the most unctuous of the Lamas squatting down
on some planked spaces before the divinities, and raising a not
unmusical chaunt, accompanying themselves at the same time with a pair
of cymbals, while two large double-sided tom-toms or drums gradually
insinuated themselves into the melody. These were each fixed on one
long leg and were beaten with a curved stick, muffled at the end. The
performance of the cymbals was particularly good, and the changes of
time they introduced formed the chief feature of the music, and was
rather pleasing than otherwise. The service as it drew to a close, was
joined by a duett upon two enormous brass instruments like
speaking-trumpets grown out of all decent proportions; they were about
five feet long, and were placed on the ground during the performance,
and as two of the fattest of the Lamas operated and nearly suffocated
themselves in their desperate exertions, the result was the most
diabolical uproar that ever could have been produced since the first
invention of music.
Not being able to trust the sepoy in such a delicate undertaking, I was
unable to get any information from the Lamas on religious subjects; and
all signs and suggestive pointings, &c. were immediately and invariably
answered by “Ûm mani panee,” so that we left about as wise as we
entered. The most interesting object in the place was a library of
Thibetian books. It consisted of an upright frame divided into square
compartments, each with a word cut deeply into the wood over it, and
containing the volumes. These were merely long narrow sheets, collected
between two boards, also carved on the outside with a name similar to
the one on the shelf. The characters were beautifully formed, and I
tried to purchase a small volume, if a thing about two feet long could
be called so, but without effect. There were about thirty of these
books in the place, ponderous tomes, carefully covered up, and little
read, to judge by the quantity of dust collected on them. They read us,
however, a small portion of one, in a drawling, sonorous tone, and with
no very great facility.
These books, together with a number of rudely-printed papers, of the
nature of tracts, one of which I carried away, containing some of the
characters similar to that on the inscribed stones, appear to have been
printed at Lassa, [20] the capital of Thibet Proper, and from there,
the head-quarters of the religion in these parts, all the musical
instruments and other paraphernalia belonging to the temples are also
sent. One exception, however, I discovered; this was an empty
brandy-bottle, bearing a magnificent coloured label, which certainly
could not have been issued from the Grand Lama’s religious stores. To
the English eye, or rather nose, it had but little of the odour of
sanctity about it; but here it evidently held a high position, and was
prominently placed among the temporal possessions of “the Gods.”
The women here, and those we met on the road during the last two
marches, wore a curious head-dress, differing from anything of the kind
we had before seen. It consisted of a broad band extending from the
forehead to the waist behind, and studded thickly with large coarse
turquoises. These generally decrease in size from the forehead, where
there is a larger turquoise than the others, down to the waist, and
where the hair ends, it is joined into a long worsted tail terminating
at the heels. Some of these bands must be of considerable value, but
the proprietors, although otherwise in complete rags, will not part
with them for any consideration. One lady whom I accosted on the
subject, thought I was going to murder her, and took to her heels
forthwith. In general, however, the fair sex here carefully hide both
their charms and their turquoises behind the nearest rock or the most
convenient cover that presents itself, and vanish like phantoms
whenever they discern a white man in the distance.
The cooking department being delayed by the ascent, we got no breakfast
to-day until one o’clock, unless a drink of milk and a biscuit on
arrival could be called by courtesy a breakfast.
August 9.—Descended from Lamieroo through a precipitous pass for about
three kos and a half, to Kulchee, a tidy little village of fifteen
huts, situated in an oasis of apricot and walnut-trees, the first we
had encountered since leaving Cashmere.
The people here seemed particularly simple and happy among their waving
corn-fields and wild fruit-trees, and they were most anxious to supply
us with apricots and milk, and whatever they could produce. The Gopa,
or head-man of the village, could speak a little Hindostanee, besides
being able to read and write his own language in two characters, and as
he seemed unusually sharp and intelligent, I was very glad to have a
chat with him while waiting for the commissariat to come up. The
character most common on the inscribed stones, and one of those now in
actual use, he told me was Romeeque; the other, the square character on
the stones, is obsolete, and is called Lantza; [21] while a third
character, which was the one he was most conversant with, but which did
not appear upon any of the stones, he called Tyeeque.
His explanation of the stones was, that at the last day a certain
recording angel, whom he called Khurjidal, would pass through the land,
and inspecting these mounds of inscribed stones, would write down the
names of all those who had contributed to the heap. What the
inscription was he seemed unable clearly to explain, but believed it to
refer in some manner to the Supreme Being. Whatever it was, all those
who had contributed their share towards its dissemination, by adding
stones to the mounds, were certain of future rewards, while those who
had omitted to do so were as equally certain of punishment. [22]
This explanation of the difficulty caused me some qualms of conscience
on account of the future prospects of the unfortunate writer whose
particular stone I had appropriated; but for fear the Gopa himself
might be the sufferer, I thought it better not to confide my emotions
to him, but to leave the case in the hands of Khurjidal.
Regarding the state of the people here, he told me that each house paid
a tax of seven rupees per annum to the Maharajah. This, for the entire
village, would only give 105 rupees per annum towards the enrichment of
the Treasury.
The Lamas, who have no ground of their own, appear to be a further
burden on the population. They are supplied gratuitously with food, and
appear to be somewhat similar to the Hindoo Fukeer, devoting themselves
to religion and remaining unmarried. They, however, are not so violent
in their opinions, and are more conversable, to say nothing of being
decidedly cleaner.
We breakfasted under the spreading walnuts, among an audience composed
of the entire village, who seemed much edified and amused by our novel
manners and customs. Some of our English possessions took their fancy
immensely. A cut-glass lantern and the label of a bottle of
cherry-brandy in particular, seemed to them the very essence of the
rare and curious, and they seemed never tired of admiring them. After
breakfast we again took the road, and marched three kos to another
little wooded settlement, called Nûrila, situated, like Kulchee, upon
the Indus, or, as it is here called, the Attock. The noisy, dirty
torrent, as it here appears, however, gives little promise of becoming,
as it does in after life, one of the largest of the stately Indian
rivers.
August 10.—From Nûrila we travelled along the Indus bank to Suspûl, a
distance of seven kos or thereabouts, stopping for breakfast at a
village whose entire population consisted of one woman! The river being
shut in by high and rocky mountains, our path took several most abrupt
turns and startling ascents and descents in its meanderings, and proved
altogether the worst for coolies to travel that we had as yet
encountered. The greater part of our march, too, was under a burning
sun, whose rays the rocks on either side of us reflected in anything
but an agreeable way, giving thereby a considerable addition of colour
to our already well-bronzed countenances. Near Suspûl we had to take to
the water, as a mass of overhanging rock jutted into the river and
completely obstructed the path; and here one of our coolies, stumbling,
dropped his load into the torrent. It was a particularly precious part
of our expeditionary stores, containing, among other things, the small
stock of brandy which was to last us back to Sirinugger. However, on
inspecting the contents of the basket, the precious liquid was safe and
sound, and the only damage was the conversion, pro tem. of our stock of
best lump sugar into moist. Suspûl we found situated in a half-moon
shaped break of fertility among the barren mountains. The snow was
within half an hour’s climb, while at the same time the sun shone with
such power as to blister our faces, and even to affect the black part
of the expedition, rendered somewhat tender, no doubt, by the unusual
mixture of heat and cold to which they had already been exposed. We
encamped here under a grove of apricot and apple-trees, which resulted
in the production of an apple-dumpling for dinner.
August 11.—Leaving Suspûl, we ascended considerably to the village of
Buzgo, another of the cloud-built little settlements so dear to the
Lamas. The tenements were most picturesquely pitched upon the extreme
tips of almost perpendicular rocks, and to many of them access seemed
apparently impossible. Leaving this, we entered upon a desert of
shifting sand and stones, in the midst of which there was an unusually
long wall of the inscribed stones, one of which, although containing
the same inscription, was of a different pattern from any I had
hitherto discovered. [23]
The next oasis was Egnemo, formed, like all the others, by the
existence of numerous little springs of crystal water, which enabled
the waving corn to raise its golden head, and the apricot and the
apple-tree to flourish in refreshing contrast to the general barrenness
and sterility which reigned around.
After a grilling march, we enjoyed the delights of a bathe under a
waterfall of clear cold water, and got our breakfast by eleven o’clock.
To-day, some of our brigade of coolies begin to complain of sickness,
which sounds alarming, not only to themselves, but to us, for none
others are now procurable. This results from their making too free with
unripe apricots, and drinking too many gallons of cold water on the
road; also, however, from the fact of my having doctored the first
patient who had presented himself, with a couple of pills and some
tea—a piece of generosity which drove all the others nearly mad with
jealousy and envy, and set them thinking how they also might be
participators in similar luxuries. The pills, although in this instance
selected promiscuously from a varied stock, were the great objects of
desire, and such was their confidence in the virtuous properties of the
remedy, that the character of the particular bolus that fell to their
share was to them a matter of no consequence whatever. So great a rage
is there for medicine among people who have never known the luxury of
paying for it, that even the blind and deformed continually applied to
us for it on the road.
August 12.—Halted to-day, and gave all hands a day of rest, which was
rather required after our incessant marching. In the afternoon we
explored the village, and enjoyed a magnificent sunset behind the
ranges of distant snowy mountains. The crops here were more backward
than those met hitherto, although the power of the sun was rather on
the increase than otherwise, as we advanced. Some of the fields were
occupied by beans, peas, and wheat, all growing like a happy family
together.
August 13.—Made an unusually early start, this morning, for our final
march into Ladak. The first part of the journey was up a precipitous
ascent, and over shifting gravel, which was very trying to our already
well-worn boots; and it was a relief when, on arriving at the summit,
we found a long and gradual descent before us, with an entirely new
panorama of snow-clad mountains extending away towards Ladak.
In the distance, close to the river Indus, which here branched out into
several small and separate streams, there was a high mound, topped with
buildings, which we made for, under the full impression that it was our
journey’s end: however, on reaching it, and turning confidently round
the corner, we found nothing but a deserted-looking building,
surrounded by an immense number of the monuments which the natives call
Permessur; while, stretched out at our feet, and forming, as it were,
the bottom of a large basin among the mountains, was a dreary desert of
glaring, burning sand. The place altogether looked like a city of the
dead: not a soul appeared in sight, except one solitary old woman, who
was slowly traversing the weary waste of sands, and all around was
still and silent as the grave. In order to gain some intelligence of
our whereabouts, I was obliged to give chase to this only inhabitant,
and from her I discovered, that to reach Ladak—a green-looking speck
which she pointed out in the far distance—we had to cross the desert
sands, and still hold on our course for several miles. The sun was by
this time high in the heavens, and we had already come a longish march,
so that by the time I had traversed the arid plain under the blinding
glare, and reached the green fields beyond, it was nearly twelve
o’clock, and I had had nearly enough of the journey. It was, however, a
couple of miles farther to the grove of trees, where, under very
indifferent shade, travellers are in the habit of halting to pitch
their camps; and on reaching this, I was glad to throw myself down on
the grass, and, after a drink of milk, and the slight refreshment
afforded by a leathery chupattie, to go to sleep on the grass, until
the arrival of our servants and baggage should give us a prospect of
breakfast. These made their appearance about two P.M., and all hands
requiring a little rest from the toils of the road, we pitched our camp
under the trees, and set ourselves to the enjoyment of a few days’ halt
in the city of Ladak.