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diff --git a/11873-h/11873-h.htm b/11873-h/11873-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e9e8933 --- /dev/null +++ b/11873-h/11873-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12805 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Holiday in the Happy Valley with Pen and Pencil, by T. R. Swinburne</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.center {text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.right {text-align: right; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.footnote {font-size: 90%; + text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11873 ***</div> + +<p>[ILLUSTRATION: THE JHELUM AT SRINAGAR]</p> + +<h1>A Holiday in the Happy Valley with Pen and Pencil</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">by T. R. Swinburne</h2> + +<h5>MAJOR (LATE) R.M.A.<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/></h5> + +<p class="poem"> +“<i>Over the great windy waters, and over the clear crested summits,<br/> +Unto the sea and the sky, and unto the perfecter earth,<br/> +Come, let us go</i>!” +</p> + +<p class="right"> +CLOUGH +</p> + +<h5>WITH 24 COLOURED ILLUSTRATIONS</h5> + +<p class="center"> +1907 +</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p class="center"> +I DEDICATE THIS BOOK<br/> +<br/> +TO<br/> +<br/> +“JANE” +</p> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap00">PREFACE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTORY</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">CHAPTER II. THE VOYAGE OUT</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">CHAPTER III. KARACHI TO ABBOTABAD</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">CHAPTER IV. ABBOTABAD TO SRINAGAR</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05">CHAPTER V. FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF SRINAGAR</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap06">CHAPTER VI. OUR FIRST CAMP</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap07">CHAPTER VII. BACK TO SRINAGAR</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap08">CHAPTER VIII. THE LOLAB</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap09">CHAPTER IX. SRINAGAR AGAIN</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap10">CHAPTER X. THE LIDAR VALLEY</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap11">CHAPTER XI. GANGABAL</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap12">CHAPTER XII. GULMARG</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap13">CHAPTER XIII. THE FLOOD</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap14">CHAPTER XIV. THE MACHIPURA</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap15">CHAPTER XV. DELHI AND AGRA</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap16">CHAPTER XVI. UDAIPUR</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap00"></a>PREFACE</h2> + +<p> +I observe that it is customary to begin a book by an Introduction, Preface, or +Foreword. In the good old days of the eighteenth century this generally took +the form of a burst of grovelling adoration aimed at some most noble or +otherwise highly important person. This fulsome fawning on the great was later +changed into propitiation of the British public, and unknown authors revelled +in excuses for publishing their earlier efforts. +</p> + +<p> +But now that every one has written a book, or is about to do so, I feel that my +apologies are rather due to the public for not having rushed into print before. +I have really spared it because I had nothing in particular to write about, and +I confess I am somewhat doubtful as to whether I am even now justified in +invoking the kind offices of a publisher with a view to bringing forth this +literary mouse in due form! +</p> + +<p> +No admiring (if partial) relatives have hung upon my lips as I read them my +journal, imploring me with tears in their eyes to waste not an instant, but +give to a longing world this literary treasure. I have no illusions as regards +my literary powers, and I do not imagine that I shall depose the gifted author +of <i>Eöthen</i> from his pride of place. +</p> + +<p> +I claim, however, the merit of truth. The journal was written day by day, and +the sketches were all done on the spot; and if this account—bald and +inadequate as I know it to be—of a very happy time spent in rambling +among some of the finest scenery of this lovely earth, may induce any one to +betake himself to Kashmir, he will achieve something worth living for, and I +shall not have spilt ink in vain. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> THE JHELUM AT SRINAGAR (Frontispiece)</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> A SOLUTION OF CONTINUITY</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> A SRINAGAR BYE-WAY—EARLY SPRING</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> ON THE JHELUM—EARLY SPRING</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> THE BUND SRINAGAR—EARLY SPRING</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> THE DAL</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> IN THE NISHAT BAGH</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> THE PIR PANJAL FROM ALSU—MORNING</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> ON THE DAL—SUNSET</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> NATIVE BOATS</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> PANDRETTAN</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> KOLAHOI</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> LIDARWAT</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> THE RAMPARTS OF KASHMIR</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> GANGABAL</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> HARAMOK</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> A TARN ABOVE TRONKOL</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> ON THE CIRCULAR ROAD, GULMARG</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> IN SRINAGAR—TWILIGHT</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> SRINAGAR FLOODED</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> HARI PARBAT—EVENING</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> NANGA PARBAT FROM KITARDAJI</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> MIXED BATHING (UDAIPUR)</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> UDAIPUR</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> MAP OF KASHMIR</td> +</tr> + +</table> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>A HOLIDAY IN THE HAPPY VALLEY</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>CHAPTER I<br/> +INTRODUCTION</h2> + +<p> +A journey to Kashmir now—in these days of cheap and rapid +locomotion—is in nowise serious. It takes time, I grant you, but to any +one with a few months to spare—and there are many in that happy +position—there can be few pleasanter ways of spending a summer holiday. +</p> + +<p> +It would be as well to start from England not later than the middle of March, +as the Red Sea and the Sind Desert begin to warm up uncomfortably in spring. +Srinagar would then be reached fairly early in April, and the visitor should +arrange, if possible, to remain in the country until the middle of October. We +had to leave just as the gorgeous autumn colouring was beginning to blaze in +the woods, and the first duck were wheeling over the Wular Lake. +</p> + +<p> +The climate of Kashmir is fairly similar to that of many parts of Southern +Europe. There is a good deal of snow in the valley in winter. Spring is +charming, the brilliant days only varied by frequent thunderstorms—which, +however, are almost invariable in keeping their pyrotechnics till about five in +the afternoon. July and August are hot and steamy in the valley, and it is +necessary to seek one of the cool “Margs” which form ideal +camping-grounds on all the lofty mountain slopes which surround the valley. +</p> + +<p> +Gulmarg is the most frequented and amusing resort in summer of the English +colony and contingent from the broiling plains of the Punjab. Here the happy +fugitive from the sweltering heat of the lower regions will find a climate as +glorious as the scenery. He can enjoy the best of polo and golf, and, if he be +not a misogynist, he will vary the ‘daily round’ with picnics and +scrambles on foot or on horseback, in exploring the endless beauty of the +place, coming home to his hut or tent as the sun sinks behind the great pines +that screen the Rampur Road, to wind up the happy day with a cheery dinner and +game of bridge. But if Gulmarg does not appeal to him, let him go with his +camping outfit to Sonamarg or Pahlgam—he will find neither polo nor golf +nor the gay little society of Gulmarg, but he will find equally charming +scenery and, perhaps, a drier climate—for it must in fairness be admitted +that Gulmarg is a rainy place. Likewise his pocket will benefit, as his +expenses will surely be less, and he will still find neighbours dotted about in +white tents under the pine trees. +</p> + +<p> +Towards the middle of September the exodus from the high ‘Margs’ +takes place—many returning sadly to Pindi and Sealkote—others +merely to Srinagar, while those who yearn after Bara Singh and Bear, decamp +quietly for their selected nullahs, to be in readiness for the opening of the +autumn season. +</p> + +<p> +Thus, from April to October, a more or less perfect climate may be obtained by +watching the mercury in the thermometer, and rising or descending the mountain +slopes in direct ratio with it. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +It is quite unnecessary to take out a large and expensive wardrobe. Thin +garments for the Red Sea and Indian Ocean, such as one wears in a fine English +summer, and for Kashmir the same sort of things that one would take up to +Scotland. For men—knickerbockers and flannel shirts—and for ladies, +short tweed skirts and some flannel blouses. The native tailors in Srinagar are +clever and cheap, and will copy an English shooting suit in fairly good +material for about eleven rupees, or 14s. 8d.! One pair of strong shooting +boots (plentifully studded with aluminium nails) is enough. For all mountain +work, the invaluable but uncomfortable grass shoes must be worn, and both my +wife and I invariably wore the native chaplies for ordinary marching. Foot-gear +for golf, tennis, and general service at Srinagar and Gulmarg must be laid in, +according to the traveller’s fancy, in England. +</p> + +<p> +Underwear to suit both hot and cold weather should be purchased at +home—not on any account omitting cholera belts. +</p> + +<p> +Shirts and collars should be taken freely, as it is well to remember that the +native washerman—the well-abused “Dobie”—has a +marvellous skill in producing a saw-like rim to the starched collar and cuff of +the newest shirt; while the elegant and delicate lace and embroidery, with +which the fair are wont to embellish their underwear, take strange and +unforeseen patterns at the hands of the skilled workmen. It is surprising what +an effect can be obtained by tying up the neck and sleeves of a garment, +inserting a few smooth pebbles from the brook, and then banging the moist +bundle on the bank! +</p> + +<p> +The arrangement of clothing for the voyage is rather complicated, as it will +probably be necessary to wear warm things while crossing Europe, and possibly +even until Egypt is reached. Then an assortment of summer flannels, sufficient +to last as far as India, must be available. We were unable to get any washing +done from the date we left London, on the 22nd of February, until we reached +Rawal Pindi, on the 21st March. Capacious canvas kit-bags are excellent things +for cramming with grist for the dobie’s mill. +</p> + +<p> +In arranging for luggage, it should be borne in mind that large trunks and +dress boxes are inadmissible. From Pindi to Srinagar everything must be +transported by wheeled conveyance, and, in Kashmir itself, all luggage must be +selected with a view to its adaptability to the backs of coolies or ponies. In +Srinagar one can buy native trunks—or yakdans—which are cheap, +strong, and portable; and the covered creels or “kiltas” serve +admirably for the stowage of kitchen utensils, food, and oddments. +</p> + +<p> +The following list may prove useful to any one who has not already been +“east of Suez,” and who may therefore not be too proud to profit by +another’s experience:— +</p> + +<p> +1. “Compactum” camp-bed with case, and fitted with sockets to take +mosquito netting. +</p> + +<p> +2. Campaigning bedding-bag in Willesden canvas, with bedding complete. +</p> + +<p> +3. Waterproof sheet. +</p> + +<p> +4. Indiarubber bath. +</p> + +<p> +If shooting in the higher mountains is anticipated, a Wolseley sleeping-bag +should be taken. +</p> + +<p> +5. Small stable-lantern. +</p> + +<p> +6. Rug or plaid—light and warm. +</p> + +<p> +7. Half-a-dozen towels. +</p> + +<p> +8. Deck chair (with name painted on it). +</p> + +<p> +We had also a couple of Roorkhee chairs, and found them most useful. +</p> + +<p> +9. A couple of compressed cane cabin trunks. +</p> + +<p> +9_a_. The “Ranelagh Pack” is a most useful form of +“luggage.” +</p> + +<p> +10. Camp kit-bag. +</p> + +<p> +11. Soiled-linen bag, with square mouth, large size. This is an excellent +“general service” bag, and invaluable for holding boots, &c. +</p> + +<p> +12. Large “brief-bag,” most useful for stowing guide-books, flasks, +binoculars, biscuits, and such like, that one wants when travelling, and never +knows where to put. Our “yellow bag” carried even tea things, and +was greatly beloved. Like the leather bottèl in its later stage, “it +served to put hinges and odd things in”! +</p> + +<p> +13. Luncheon basket, fitted according to the number of the party. +</p> + +<p> +The above articles can all be bought at the Army and Navy Stores. +</p> + +<p> +14. A light canvas box, fitted as a dressing-case. +</p> + +<p> +Ours were made, according to our own wishes and possessions, by Williams, of 41 +Bond Street. The innumerable glass bottles, so highly prized by the makers of +dressing-cases, should be strictly limited in number. They are exceedingly +heavy, and, as the dressing-case should be carried by its owner, the less it +weighs the more he (or she) will esteem it. +</p> + +<p> +15. A set of aluminium cooking-utensils is much to be recommended. They can +easily be sold on leaving Kashmir for, at least, their cost price. +</p> + +<p> +16. Pocket flask. This may be of aluminium also, although personally I dislike +a metal flask. +</p> + +<p> +17. Umbrella—strong, but cheap, as it is sure to be lost or stolen. There +are few things your native loves more than a nice umbrella, unless it be +</p> + +<p> +18. A knife fitted with corkscrew and screwdriver; therefore take two, and try +to keep one carefully locked up. +</p> + +<p> +19. Pair of good field-glasses. +</p> + +<p> +I took a stalking telescope, but it was useless to my shikari, who always +borrowed my wife’s binoculars until she lost them—or he stole them! +</p> + +<p> +20. Hats. It is obviously a matter of taste what hats a man should take. The +glossy silk may repose with the frock-coat till its owner returns to find it +hopelessly out of date, its brim being a thought too curly, or its top +impossibly wide; but the “bowler” or Homburg hat will serve his +turn according to his fancy, until, at Aden, he invests in a hideous, but shady +“topee,” for one-third of the price he would pay in London; and +this will be his only wear, before sunset, until he again reaches a temperate +climate. Ladies, who are rightly more particular as to the appearance of even +so unlovely a thing as a sola topee, would do well, perhaps, to buy theirs +before starting. Really becoming pith helmets seem very scarce in the East! +</p> + +<p> +After sunset, or under awnings, any sort of cap may be worn. +</p> + +<p> +21. Shirts and collars are obviously matters of taste. A good supply of white +shirts and collars must be taken to cope with the destruction and loss which +may be expected at the hands of the dobie. Flannel shirts can be made easily +enough from English models in Srinagar. +</p> + +<p> +22. Under-garments should be of Indian gauze for hot weather, with a supply of +thicker articles for camping in the hills. +</p> + +<p> +Cholera belts should on no account be omitted. +</p> + +<p> +23. Socks, according to taste—very few knickerbocker stockings need be +taken, as putties are cheap and usual in Srinagar. +</p> + +<p> +24. Ties—the white ones of the cheap sort that can be thrown away after +use, with a light heart. Handkerchiefs, and a few pairs of white gloves. +</p> + +<p> +25. Sleeping-suits, both thick for camp work and light for hot weather, should +be taken. +</p> + +<p> +26. Dress suit and dinner-jacket. +</p> + +<p> +27. Knickerbocker or knee-breeches, which can be copied in Kashmir by the +native tailor. +</p> + +<p> +Riding-breeches are not in the least necessary unless the traveller +contemplates any special riding expedition. Ordinary shooting continuations do +quite well for all the mounted work the tourist is likely to do. A pair of +stohwasser gaiters may be taken, but even they are not necessary, neither is a +saddle. +</p> + +<p> +A lady, however, should take out a short riding-skirt, or habit, and a +side-saddle. +</p> + +<p> +28. A tweed suit of medium warmth for travelling, and a couple of flannel +suits, will bring the wearer to Srinagar, where he can increase his stock at a +ridiculously low price—about 22 rupees or £1, 9s. 4d. per suit. +</p> + +<p> +29. Boots. Here, again, the wayfarer is at full liberty to please himself. A +pair of strong shooting-boots, with plenty of spare laces and, say, a hundred +aluminium nails, is a <i>sine quâ non</i>. A pair of rubbers, or what are known +as “gouties” in Swiss winter circles, are not to be despised. +Otherwise, boots, shoes, slippers, and pumps, according to taste. +</p> + +<p> +30. A large “regulation” waterproof, a rain-coat or Burberry, and a +warm greatcoat will all be required. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +It is hard to give definite advice to a lady as to the details of her outfit. +Let her conform in a general way to the instructions given above, always +remembering that both Srinagar and Gulmarg are gay and festive places, where +she will dine and dance, and have ample opportunity for displaying a +well-chosen wardrobe. +</p> + +<p> +Let her also take heed that she leaves the family diamonds at home. The gentle +Kashmiri is an inveterate and skilful thief, and the less jewellery she can +make up her mind to “do with,” the more at ease will her mind be. +But if she must needs copy the lady of whom we read, that +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Rich and rare were the gems she wore,” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +then why not line the jewel-case—or rather the secret bag, which she will +sew into some mysterious garment—with the diamonds of Gophir and the +pearls of Rome? +</p> + +<p> +If the intending visitor to Kashmir be a sportsman who has already had +experience in big-game shooting, he will not need any advice from me (which, +indeed, he would utterly disdain) as to the lethal weapons which should form +his battery; but if the wayfarer be a humble performer who has never slain +anything more formidable than a wary old stag, or more nerve-shattering than a +meteoric cock pheasant rising clamorously from behind a turnip, he may not be +too proud to learn that he will find an ordinary “fowling piece” +the most useful weapon which he can take with him. If his gun is not choked, he +should be provided with a dozen or more ball cartridge for bear. +</p> + +<p> +If the pursuit of markhor and ibex is contemplated, a small-bore rifle will be +required, but a heavy express is wanted to stop a bear. I had a +“Mannlicher” and an ordinary shot-gun, with a few ball cartridges +for the latter. +</p> + +<p> +Duty has to be paid on taking firearms into India, and this may be refunded on +leaving the country. This is not always done, however, as I found to my cost, +my application for a refund being refused on the quibble that my guns were +taken back to England by a friend, although I was able to prove their identity. +</p> + +<p> + cartridges out, as it is +exceedingly unlikely that the tyro will be able to shoot all the beasts allowed +him by his game licence.[1] Smooth-bore cartridges of fair quality can be +bought in Srinagar, and I certainly do not consider it worth the trouble and +expense to convey them out from England. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[1] See Appendix 1. +</p> + +<p> +To the amateur artist I would say: Be well supplied with brushes and +paper—the latter sealed in tin for passage through the Red Sea and India. +Colours, and indeed all materials can he got from Treacher & Co., Bombay, +and also from the branch of the Army and Navy Stores there. +</p> + +<p> +Paper is, however, difficult to get in good condition, being frequently spoilt +by mildew. +</p> + +<p> +It is almost impossible to get anything satisfactory in the way of painting +materials in Kashmir itself; therefore I say: Be well supplied before leaving +home. +</p> + +<p> +Finally, a small stock of medicines should certainly be taken, not omitting a +copious supply of quinine (best in powder form for this purpose), and also of +strong peppermint or something of the sort, to give to the native servants and +others who are always falling sick of a fever or complaining of an internal +pain, which is generally quite cured by a dose of peppermint. +</p> + +<p> +Neither Jane nor I love guide-books; we found however, in Kashmir, the little +book written by Dr. Neve an invaluable companion;[2] while Murray’s +<i>Guide to India</i> afforded much useful information when wandering in that +country. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[2] <i>The Tourist’s Guide to Kashmir, Ladakh, Skardo, &c.</i>, +edited by Arthur Neve, F.R.G.S. +</p> + +<p> +The best book on Kashmir that I know is Sir Walter Lawrence’s <i>Valley +of Kashmir</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Any one going out as we did, absolutely ignorant of the language, should +certainly take an elementary phrase-book or something of the sort to study on +the voyage. We forgot to do this, and had infinite trouble afterwards in +getting what we wanted, and lost much time in acquiring the rudimentary +knowledge of Hindustani which enabled us to worry along with our native +servants, &c. No mere “globe-trotter” need attempt to learn any +Kashmiri, as Hindustani is “understanded of the people” as a rule, +and the tradesmen in Srinagar know quite as much English as is good for them. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>CHAPTER II<br/> +THE VOYAGE OUT</h2> + +<p> +It seems extraordinary to me that every day throughout the winter, crowds of +people should throng the railway stations whence they can hurry south in search +of warmth and sunshine, and yet London remains apparently as full as ever! We +plunged into a seething mass of outward-bound humanity at Victoria Station on +the 22nd of February, and, having wrestled our way into the Continental +express, were whirled across the sad and sodden country to Dover amidst +hundreds of our shivering fellow-countrymen. +</p> + +<p> +Truly we are beyond measure conservative in our railway discomforts. With a +bitter easterly wind searching out the chinks of door and window, we sat +shivering in our unwarmed compartment—unwarmed, I say, in spite of the +clumsy tin of quickly-cooled hot water procured by favour—and a +gratuity—from a porter! +</p> + +<p> +The Channel showed even more disagreeable than usual. A grey, cold sky, with +swift-flying clouds from the east hung over a grey, cold sea, the waves showing +their wicked white teeth under the lash of the strong wind. The patient +lightship off the pier was swinging drearily as we throbbed past into the +gust-swept open and set our bows for the unseen coast of France. +</p> + +<p> +The tumult of passengers was speedily reduced to a limp and inert swarm of +cold, wet, and sea-sick humanity. +</p> + +<p> +The cold and miserable weather clung to us long. In Paris it snowed heavily, +and I was constrained to betake myself in a cab—“chauffé,” it +is needless to remark—to seek out a kindly dentist, the bitter east wind +having sought out and found a weak spot wherein to implant an abscess. +</p> + +<p> +At Bâle it was freezing, but clear and bright, and a good breakfast and a +breath of clean, fresh air was truly enjoyable after the overheated +sleeping-car in which we had come from Paris. +</p> + +<p> +It may seem unreasonable to grumble at the overheating of the +“Sleeper” after abusing the under-heating of our British railways. +Surely, though, there is a golden mean? I wish neither to be frozen nor boiled, +and there can be no doubt but that the heating of most Continental trains is +excellent, the power of application being left to the traveller. +</p> + +<p> +The journey by the St. Gotthard was delightful, the day brilliant, and the +frost keen, while we watched the fleeting panorama of icebound peaks and +snow-powdered pines from the cushions of our comfortable carriage. +</p> + +<p> +The glory of winter left us as we left the Swiss mountains and dropped down +into the fertile flats of Northern Italy, and at Milan all was raw chilliness +and mud. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing can well be more depressing than wet and cheerless weather in a land +obviously intended for sunshine. +</p> + +<p> +We slept at Milan, and the next day set forth in heavy rain towards Venice. The +miserable ranks of distorted and pollarded trees stood sadly in pools of +yellow-stained water, or stuck out of heaps of half-melted and uncleanly snow. +</p> + +<p> +No colour; no life anywhere, excepting an occasional peasant plodding along a +muddy road, sheltering himself under the characteristic flat and bony umbrella +of the country. +</p> + +<p> +At Peschiera we had promise of better things. The weather cleared somewhat, +revealing ranges of white-clad hills around Garda…. But, alas! at Verona it +rained as hard as ever, and we made our way from the railway station at Venice, +cowering in the coffin-like cabin of a damp and extremely draughty gondola, +while cold flurries of an Alpine-born wind swept across the Grand Canal. +</p> + +<p> +Sunshine is absolutely necessary to bring out the real beauty of Italy. This is +particularly the case in Venice, where light and life are required to dispel +the feeling of sadness so sure to creep over one amid the signs of long-past +grandeur and decaying magnificence. +</p> + +<p> +On a grey and wintry day one is chiefly impressed by the dank chilliness of the +palaces on the Grand Canal, whose feet lie lapped in slimy water; the lovely +tracery of whose windows shows ragged and broken, whose stately guest-chambers +are in the sordid occupation of the dealer in false antiques, and whose motto +might be “Ichabod,” for their glory has departed. +</p> + +<p> +It is five-and-twenty years since I was last in Venice, and I can truly say +that it has not improved in that long time. The loss of the great Campanile of +St. Mark is not compensated for by the gain of the penny steamer which frets +and fusses its prosaic way along the Grand Canal, or blurts its noisome smoke +in the very face of the Palace of the Doges. +</p> + +<p> +Well! A steady downpour is dispiriting at any time, excepting when one is +snugly at home with plenty to do, and it is particularly so to the unlucky +traveller who has to live through half-a-dozen long hours intervening between +arrival at and departure from Venice on a cold, dull, wintry afternoon. +</p> + +<p> +The sombre gondola writhed its sinuous course and deposited us all forlorn in +the near neighbourhood of the Piazza San Marco. Splashing our way across, and +pushing through the crowd of greedy fat pigeons, we entered the world-famous +church. I know my Ruskin, and I feel that I should be lost in wonder and +admiration—I am not. +</p> + +<p> +The gloom—rich golden gloom if you will—of the interior oppresses +me; it is cavernous. A service is being held in one of the transepts, and the +congregation seems noisier and less devout than I could have believed possible. +My thoughts fly far to where, on its solitary hill, the noble pile of Chartres +soars majestic, its heaven-piercing spires dominating the wide plain of La +Beauce. In fancy I enter by the splendid north door and find myself in the +pillared dimness softly lighted by the great window in the west. This seems to +me to be the greatest achievement of the Christian architect, noble alike in +conception and in execution. +</p> + +<p> +There is no means of procuring a cold more certain than lingering too long in a +cold and vault-like church or picture gallery, so we adjourned to the Palazzo +Daniele, now a mere hotel, where we browsed on the literature—chiefly +cosmopolitan newspapers—until it was time to start for Trieste. +</p> + +<p> +The journey is not an attractive one, as we seemed to be perpetually worried by +Custom-house authorities and inquisitive ticket-collectors! If possible, the +wary traveller should so time his sojourn at Venice as to allow him to go to +Trieste by steamer. The Hôtel de la Ville at Trieste is not quite excellent, +but ’twill serve, and we were remarkably glad to reach it, somewhere +about midnight, having left Milan soon after seven in the morning! +</p> + +<p> +Trieste itself is rather an engaging town; at least so it seemed to us when we +awakened to a fresh, bright morning, a blue-and-white sky overhead, and a +copious allowance of yellow mud under foot! +</p> + +<p> +There were various final purchases to be made. Our deck chairs were with the +heavy luggage, which the passenger by Austrian Lloyd only gets at Port Saïd, as +it is sent from London by sea; so a deck chair had to be got, also a stock of +light literature wherewith to beguile the long sea hours. +</p> + +<p> +A visit to our ship—the <i>Marie Valerie</i>—showed her to be a +comfortable-looking vessel of some 4500 tons. She was busily engaged in taking +in a large cargo, principally for Japan, and she showed no signs of an early +departure. Her nominal hour for starting was 4 P.M., but the captain told us +that he should not sail until next morning. So we descended to examine our +cabin, and found it to be large and airy, but totally deficient in the matter +of drawers or lockers. +</p> + +<p> +Well! we shall have to keep everything in cabin trunks, and “live in our +boxes” for the next three weeks. +</p> + +<p> +There was cabin accommodation for twenty passengers, but at dinner we mustered +but nine. This is, of course, the season when all right-minded folks are coming +home from India, and we never expected to find a crowd; still, nine individuals +scattered abroad over the wide decks make but a poor show. +</p> + +<p> +The first meal on board a big steamer is always interesting. Every one is +quietly “taking stock” of his, or her, neighbours, and forming +estimates of their social value, which are generally entirely upset by after +experience. +</p> + +<p> +Of our fellow-passengers there were only five whose presence affected us in any +way. A young Austrian, Herr Otto Frantz, with his wife, going out as first +secretary of legation to Tokio; Major Twining, R.E., and his wife; and Miss +Lungley, a cosmopolitan lady, who makes Kashmir her headquarters and Rome her +<i>annexe</i>. +</p> + +<p> +We became acquainted with each other sooner than might have been expected, by +reason of an exploit of the stewardess—a gibbering idiot. The night was +cold, so several of the ladies, following an evil custom, sent forth from their +cabins those vile inventions called hot bottles. Only two came back…, and then +the fun began. The stewardess, who speaks no known tongue, played “hunt +the slipper” for the missing bottles through all the cabins, whence she +was shot out by the enraged inhabitants until she was reduced to absolute +imbecility, and the harassed stewards to gesticular despair. +</p> + +<p> +The missing articles were, I believe, finally discovered and routed out of an +unoccupied bed, where they had been laid and forgotten by the addle-pated lady, +and peace reigned. +</p> + +<p> +We sailed from Trieste early on the morning of the 28th of February, and +steamed leisurely on our way. The Austrian Lloyd’s +“unaccelerated” steamers are not too active in their movements, +being wont to travel at purely “economical speed,” and so we were +given an excellent view of some of the Ionian Islands, steaming through the +Ithaca channel, with the snow-tipped peak of Cephalonia close on our starboard +hand. +</p> + +<p> +Then, leaving the far white hills of the Albanian coast to fade into the blue +mists, we sped +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Over the sea past Crete,” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +until the tall lighthouse of Port Saïd rose on the horizon, followed by the +spars of much shipping, and the roofs of the houses dotted apparently over the +waters of the Mediterranean. At length the low mudbanks which represent the two +continents of Africa and Asia spread their dull monotony on either hand, and +the good ship sat quietly down for a happy day’s coaling. +</p> + +<p> +Port Saïd has grown out of all knowledge since I first made its acquaintance in +1877. It was then a cluster of evil-looking shanties, the abode of the scum of +the Levant, who waxed fat by the profits of the gambling hells and the sale of +pornographic photographs. It has now donned the outwardly respectable look of +middle age; it has laid itself out in streets; the gambling dens have +disappeared, and the robbers have betaken themselves to the sale of the worst +class of Japanese and Indian “curios,” ostrich feathers from East +Africa, and tobacco in all its forms. +</p> + +<p> +Port Saïd has undoubtedly improved, but still it is not a nice place, and we +were unfeignedly glad to repair on board the <i>Marie Valerie</i> as soon as we +noted the cessation of the black coaly cloud, through the murkiness of which a +chattering stream of gnome-like figures passed their burthens of +“Cardiff” into the bowels of the ship. +</p> + +<p> +Port Saïd was cold, and Suez was cold, and we started down the Red Sea followed +by a strong north wind, which kept us clad in greatcoats for a day or two, and, +as we got down into wider waters, obliged us to keep our ports closed. +</p> + +<p> +An object-lesson on the subject of closed ports was given in our cabin, where +the fair chatelaine was reclining in her berth reading, fanned by the genial +air which floated in at the open port,—a truculent Red Sea billow, +meeting a slight roll of the ship, entered the cabin in an unbroken fall on the +lady’s head. A damp tigress flew out through the door, wildly demanding +the steward, a set of dry bedding, and the instant execution of the captain, +the officer of the watch, and the man at the wheel! +</p> + +<p> +How dull we should be without these little incidents! +</p> + +<p> +A hoopoe took deck, or rather rigging, passage for a while, and evoked the +greatest interest. Stalking glasses and binoculars were levelled at the +unconcerned fowl, who sat by the “cathead” with perfect composure, +and preened himself after his long flight. +</p> + +<p> +The striking of “four bells” just under his beak unnerved him +somewhat, and he departed in a great fuss and pother. +</p> + +<p> +Our roomy decks afford many quiet corners in which to read or doze, and now +that the weather is rapidly warming up we spend many hours in these peaceful +pastimes, varied by an occasional constitutional—none of your +fisherman’s walks, “three steps and overboard”—but a +good, clear tramp, unimpeded by the innumerable deck-chairs, protruding feet, +and ubiquitous children which cover all free space on board a P. & O. +</p> + +<p> +Then comes dinner, followed by a rubber of bridge, and so to bed. +</p> + +<p> +On Saturday the 11th we passed the group of islands commonly known as the +Twelve Apostles. +</p> + +<p> +First, a tiny rock, rising lonely from the blue—brilliantly +blue—waves; then a yellow crag of sandstone, looking like a haystack; and +then a whole group of wild and fantastic islands, evidently of volcanic origin, +and varying in rough peaks and abrupt cliffs of the strangest +colours—brick-red, purple-black, grey, and yellow—utterly bare and +desolate: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Nor tree, nor shrub, nor plant, nor flower,<br/> +Nor aught of vegetative power,<br/> +The weary eye may ken,” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +save only the white lighthouse, which, perched on its arid hill, serves to +emphasise the desolation of earth and sky. +</p> + +<p> +The Red Sea is remarkably well supplied with lighthouses; and, considering the +narrowness of the channel in parts, the strong and variable currents, and the +innumerable islands and shoals, the supply does no more than equal the demand. +</p> + +<p> +I cannot imagine a more grievous death in life than the existence of a +lighthouse-keeper in the Red Sea! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sunday, 12th</i>.—We passed through the Gate of Tears this +morning—the dismal, flat, and unprofitable island of Perim being scanned +by me from the bathroom port, while exchanging an atmosphere of sticky salt air +for an unrefreshing dip in sticky salt water. +</p> + +<p> +The hoopoe is again with us; in fact I do not think he really left the ship, +but simply sought a secluded perch, secure from prying observation. He +reappeared upon the port stay, and proceeded to preen himself and observe the +ship’s course. He is evidently bound for Aden, casting glances of quiet +unconcern on Perim and the coast of Araby the blest. +</p> + +<p> +Towards sunset we passed the fantastic peaks of little Aden, and, drawing up to +Steamer Point, cast anchor under the “Barren Rocks of Aden.” +</p> + +<p> +<i>Monday, 13th</i>.—We had a shocking time last night. All ports closed +for coaling left us gasping, whilst a fiendish din arose from the bowels of the +ship, whence cargo was being extracted. The stifling air, reeking with damp, +developed in the early morning a steady rain, which dripped mournfully on the +grimy decks. Rain in Aden! We are told on the best authority that this is most +unusual. +</p> + +<p> +Aden, to the passing stranger, shows few attractions. We went on shore when the +rain showed signs of ceasing, and after buying a few odds and ends, such as a +pith hat and some cigarettes, we betook ourselves to the principal hotel, where +an excessively bad breakfast was served to us, after which we were not sorry to +shake the mud of Aden off our feet, so we chartered a shore boat amid a fearful +clamour for extra pay and backshish, and set forth to rejoin our ship, now +swept and garnished, and showing little trace of the coal she had swallowed. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Monday, 20th</i>.—We reached Karachi yesterday morning after a quiet, +calm, and utterly uneventful passage across the Indian Ocean. +</p> + +<p> +It was never hot—merely calm, grey, and even showery, our only +excitements being an occasional school of porpoises or the sight of a passing +tramp steamer. +</p> + +<p> +Some time before leaving England I had written to my old friend General Woon, +commanding the troops at Abbotabad, asking him to provide me with a servant +capable of dry-nursing a pair of Babes in the Wood throughout their sojourn in +a strange land. The General promised to supply us with such an one, who, he +said, would rob us to a certain extent himself, but would take good care that +nobody else did so! +</p> + +<p> +Immediately, then, upon our arrival in Karachi roads, a dark and swarthy +person, with a black beard and gleaming white teeth, appeared on board, and +reported himself as Sabz Ali, our servant and our master! +</p> + +<p> +His knowledge of English “as she is spoke” was scanty and of +strange quality, but his masterful methods of dealing with the boatmen and +Custom-house subordinates inspired us with awe and a blind confidence that he +could—and would—pull us through. +</p> + +<p> +There was no difficulty at the Custom-house until it transpired that I wanted +to take three firearms into the country. This appeared to be a most unusual and +reprehensible desire, and my statement that one weapon was a rifle which I was +taking charge of for a friend did not improve the situation. It being Sunday, +the principal authorities were sunning themselves in their back parlours, and +the thing in charge (called a Baboo, I understand) became exceedingly fussy, +and desired that the guns should be unpacked and exhibited lest they should be +of service pattern. This was simple, as far as my battery was concerned, and I +promptly laid bare the beauties of my Mannlicher and ancient 12-bore; but, +alas! Mrs. Smithson’s rifle was soldered like a sardine into a strong tin +case, and no cold-chisel or screwdriver was forthcoming. +</p> + +<p> +Messengers were sent forth to seek the needful instruments, while I proceeded +to cut another Gordian knot…. An acquaintance of mine, hearing that I was +coming to India, suggested that I should take charge of a parcel for a friend +of hers, who wanted to send it to her fiancé in Bombay. As all the heavy +baggage was sent from London to join us at Port Saïd, I had not seen the +“parcel,” and, finding no case or box addressed to any one but +myself, I had to select one that seemed most likely to be right, and forward +that. +</p> + +<p> +At last the needful appliances were got and the rifle unpacked; but, although +it proved to be (as I had said) a large-bore Express, the Baboo refused, like a +very Pharaoh, to let it go, and I, after a two-hour vexatious delay, paid the +duty on my own guns, and, leaving a note for the chief Customs official, +explaining the case and begging him to send the rifle on forthwith, packed +myself—hot, hungry, and angry—into a “gharri,” and set +forth to the Devon Place Hotel, whither the rest of the party had preceded me. +</p> + +<p> +I have gone into this little episode somewhat at length in order to impress +upon the voyager to India the necessity for limiting the number of firearms or +getting a friend to father the extra ones through the Customs—a perfectly +simple matter had one foreseen the difficulty. Also the danger of taking +parcels for friends—of which more anon![1] +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[1] A big deal case which we unpacked at Srinagar proved to contain a +“life-sized” work-table. The package holding our camp beds and +bedding, having a humbler aspect, had been sent to Bombay and cost as a world +of worry and expense to recover! +</p> + +<p> +The Devon Place Hotel may be the best in Karachi, but it is pretty bad…. I am +told that all Indian hotels are bad—still, the breakfast was a +considerable improvement on the <i>Marie Valerie</i>, and we sallied forth as +giants refreshed to have a look at Karachi and do a little shopping. It being +Sunday, the banks were closed, but a kindly shopman cashed me a cheque for +twenty pounds in the most confiding manner, and enabled us to get the few odds +and ends we wanted before going up country—among them a couple of +“resais” or quilted cotton wraps and a sola topee for Jane. +</p> + +<p> +Karachi did not strike us as being a particularly interesting town, but that +may be to a great extent because we did not see the best part of it. On landing +at Kiamari we had only driven along a hot and glaring mole, bordered by swamps +and slimy-looking flats for some two miles. Then, on reaching the city proper, +a dusty road, bordered by somewhat suburban-looking houses, brought us to the +Devon Place Hotel, near the Frere station. After breakfast we merely drove into +the bazaars to shop before betaking ourselves to the station, in good time for +the 6.30 train. +</p> + +<p> +Passengers—at least first-class passengers—were not numerous, and +Major Twining and I had no difficulty in securing two compartments—one +for our wives and one for ourselves. +</p> + +<p> +An Indian first-class carriage is roomy, but bare, being arranged with a view +to heat rather than cold Two long seats run “fore and aft” on +either side, and upon them your servant makes your bed at night. Two upper +berths can be let down in case of a crowd. At the end of each compartment is a +small toilet-room. +</p> + +<p> +It was unexpectedly chilly at night, and Twining and I were glad to roll +ourselves up in as many rugs and “resais” as we could persuade the +ladies to leave to us. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>CHAPTER III<br/> +KARACHI TO ABBOTABAD</h2> + +<p> +This morning we awoke to find ourselves rattling and shaking our way through +the Sind Desert—an interminable waste of sand, barren and +thirsty-looking, covered with a patchy scrub of yellowish and grey-purple +bushes. +</p> + +<p> +I can well imagine how hatefully hot it can be here, but to-day it has been +merely pleasantly warm. +</p> + +<p> +Jane and I were deeply interested in the novel scenes we passed through, which, +while new and strange to us, were yet made familiar by what we had read and +heard. The quiet-eyed cattle, with their queer humps, were just what we +expected to see in the dusty landscape. The chattering crowds in the wayside +stations, their bright-coloured garments flaunting in the white +sunlight—the fruit-sellers, the water-carriers, were all as though they +had stepped out of the pages of <i>Kim</i>—that most excellent of Indian +stories. +</p> + +<p> +And so all day we rattled and shook through the Sind Desert in the hot sunlight +till the dust lay thick upon us, and our eyes grew tired of watching the flying +landscape. +</p> + +<p> +In the afternoon we reached Samasata junction, where the Twinings parted +company with us, being bound for Faridkot. +</p> + +<p> +Sorry were we to lose such charming companions, especially as now indeed we +become as Babes in the Wood, knowing nothing of the land, its customs, or its +language! +</p> + +<p> +Henceforward, Sabz Ali shall be our sheet-anchor, and I think he will not fail +us. His English is truly remarkable, so much so that I regret to say I have +more than once supposed him to be talking Hindustani when he was discoursing in +my own mother-tongue. But he certainly is extraordinarily sharp in taking up +what I and the “Mem-sahib” say. +</p> + +<p> +He presented to me to-day a remarkable letter, of which the following is an +exact copy. I presume it is a sort of statement as to his general +duties:— +</p> + +<p class="center"> +“<i>To the</i> M<small>AGER</small> S<small>AHIB</small>. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,—I beg to say that General ’Oon Sahib send me to you. He +order me that the arrangement of Mager Sahib do. +</p> + +<p> +“To give pice to porter kuli this is my work. This is usefull to you. +</p> + +<p> +“You give him many pice. +</p> + +<p> +“Your work is order and to do it my work. You give me Rupee at once. Then +I will write it on my book, from which you will see it is right or wrong. Now I +am going to Cashmir with you and Cashmiree are thief. +</p> + +<p> +“If you will give me one man other it will usefull to you. I ask one +cloth. All Sahib give cloth to Servant on going to Cashmir. +</p> + +<p> +“If will give cloth then all men say that this Sahib is good. I am fear +from General ’Oon Sahib. It is order to give cloth. +</p> + +<p> +“I can do all work of cook and bearer. I wish that you will happy on me, +also your lady, and say to General ’Oon Sahib that this man is good and +honest man. +</p> + +<p> +“I have servant to many Sahib. +</p> + +<p> +“I have more certificate. +</p> + +<p> +“You are rich man and king. I am poor man. I will take two annas +allowance per day in Cashmir, you will do who you wish. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish that you and lady will happy on me. This is begging you +will.—I remain, Sir, your most obedient Servant, +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“S<small>ABAZ</small> A<small>LI</small>, <i>Bearer</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +<i>Wednesday, March</i> 22.—We slept again in the train on Monday night, +and arrived in Lahore about 6 o’clock yesterday morning. +</p> + +<p> +We had been advised to tub and dress in the waiting-rooms at the station, as we +had a break of some six hours before going on to Pindi; but, upon +investigation, Jane found her waiting-room already fully occupied by an +uninviting company of Chi-chis (Eurasians), and several men—their +husbands and brothers presumably—were sleeping the sleep of the just in +mine, so we left all our luggage stacked on the platform under the eye of Sabz +Ali, and hurried off to Nedou’s Hotel. Ye gods! What a cold drive it was, +and how bitterly we regretted that we had not brought our wraps from their +bundle. +</p> + +<p> +I was fearfully afraid that Jane would get a chill—an evil always to be +specially guarded against in a tropical climate, but a very hot tub and a good +breakfast averted all calamity, and we set forth in a funny little trap to +inspect Lahore. +</p> + +<p> +This is the first large and thoroughly Indian city that we have +seen—Karachi being merely a thriving modern seaport and garrison +town—and we set to work to see what we could in the limited time at our +disposal. We whisked along a road—bumpy withal in parts, and somewhat +dusty, but broad. On either hand rose substantial stone mansions, half hidden +by trees and flowering shrubs. Many of these fine-looking buildings were shops. +I was impressed by their importance, for they were quite what would be +described by an auctioneer or agent as “most desirable family mansions, +approached by a carriage drive … standing within their own beautifully wooded +and secluded grounds in an excellent residential neighbourhood,” &c. +&c. +</p> + +<p> +Anon we whirled round a corner, and plunged into the seething life of the +native city. The road was crammed with an apparently impenetrable crowd of men +and beasts, the latter—water-buffaloes, humpy cattle, and +donkeys—strolling about and getting in everybody’s way with perfect +nonchalance, while men in strange raiment of gaudy hue pursued their lawful +occupations with much clamour. The variety of smells—all bad—was +quite remarkable. +</p> + +<p> +We could only go at a walk, as the streets were very narrow and the inhabitants +thereof—particularly the cows—seemed very deaf and difficult to +arouse to a sense of the need for making room, though our good driver yelled +himself hoarse and employed language which I feel sure was highly flavoured. +Our progress was a succession of marvellous escapes for human toes and bovine +shoulders, but our “helmsman steered us through,” and we emerged +from the kaleidoscopic labyrinth into the open space before the Fort of Lahore, +whose pinkish brick walls and ponderous bastions rose above us. +</p> + +<p> +The last thing I would desire would be to usurp in any way the functions of +grave Mr. Murray or well-informed Herr Baedeker, but there are certain points +to which I will draw attention, and which it seems to me very necessary to keep +in mind. +</p> + +<p> +To the ordinary traveller in the Punjab and Northern India no buildings are +more attractive, no ruins more interesting, than those of the Mogul dynasty, +and the rule of the Mogul princes marks the high-water limit of Indian +magnificence. It was but for a short time, too, that the highest level of +grandeur was maintained. +</p> + +<p> +For generations the Moguls had poured in intermittent hordes into Northern +India, but it was only in 1556 that Akbar, by defeating the Pathans at Panipat, +laid India at his feet. Following up his success he overthrew the Rajputs, and +extended his dominion from Afghanistan to Benares. Having conquered the country +as a great warrior, he proceeded to rule it as a noble statesman, being +“one of the few sovereigns entitled to the appellation both of Great and +Good, and the only one of Mohammedan race whose mind appears to have arisen so +far above all the illiberal prejudices of that fanatical religion in which he +was educated, as to be capable of forming a plan worthy of a monarch who loved +his people and was solicitous to render them happy.”[1] This +“plan” was to study the religion, laws, and institutions of his +Hindu subjects in order that he might govern as far as possible in conformity +with Hindu usage. The Emperor Akbar was the first of the Mogul monarchs who was +a great architect. The city of Fattepur Sikri being raised by him as a stately +dwelling-place until want of water and the unhealthiness of the locality caused +him to move into Agra, leaving the whole city of Fattepur Sikri to the owls and +jackals, and later to the admiration of the Sahib logue. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[1] Robertson’s <i>India</i>, Appendix. +</p> + +<p> +A palace in Lahore, the fort at Allahabad, and much lovely work in the city of +Agra testify to the creative genius of that contemporary of our own Good Queen +Bess, the first “Great” Mogul. Jehangir, his son and successor, has +left few buildings of note, but his grandson, Shah Jehan, was undoubtedly the +most splendid builder of the Mogul Mohammedan period. To him Delhi owes its +stately palace and vast mosque—the Jama Masjid—and Agra would be +famous for its wonderful palace of dark red stone and fretted marble, even +without that masterpiece of Mohammedan inspiration, the world-famed Taj Mahal. +The brief period of supreme magnificence came to an end with the last of the +“Great” Moguls—Aurungzeb, died in 1707—having only +blazed in fullest glory for some century and a half, but leaving behind it some +of the noblest works of man. +</p> + +<p> +It seemed somehow very curious, as we drove up through the stately entrance of +the Hathi Paon, or Elephant Gate of the fort, to be saluted with a +“present arms” by British Tommies clad in unobtrusive khaki, and to +reflect that we are the inheritors of the fallen grandeur of the Mogul +Emperors; that we in our turn, on many a hard-fought field, asserted our power +to conquer; and that since then we have (I trust) so far followed the sound +principles of Akbar as to keep by justice and wise rule the broad lands with +their teeming millions in a state of peace and security unknown before in +India. +</p> + +<p> +Opposite the entrance rise the walls of the Palace of Akbar, curiously +decorated with brilliant blue mosaics of animals and arabesques. +</p> + +<p> +We visited the armoury—a remarkably fine collection of weapons—not +the least interesting being those taken from the Sikhs and French in the +earlier part of the last century. Opposite the armoury, and across a small +beautifully-paved court, were the private apartments of Shah Jehan. They +reminded me very much of the Alhambra, only, instead of the honeycomb vaulted +ceilings, and arches decorated in stucco by the Moors, the Eastern architect +inlaid his ceilings with an extraordinary incrustation of glass, usually +silvered on the back, but also frequently coloured, and giving a strange effect +of mother-o’-pearl inlay, bordering on tawdriness when examined in +detail. +</p> + +<p> +It is possible that this coloured glass actually had its intended effect of +inlaid jewels, and that the gem-encrusted walls, so enthusiastically described +by Tavernier and others, as almost matching the peacock throne itself, may have +been but imitation. +</p> + +<p> +Many of the pilasters were, however, very beautiful—of white marble +inlaid with flower patterns of coloured stones—while the arched window +openings were filled in with creamy tracery of fair white marble. +</p> + +<p> +Leaving the fort after an all too short visit, we crossed to the great mosque +built by Aurungzeb. Ascending—from a garden bright with flowers and +blossoming trees—a flight of broad steps, we found ourselves at the end +of a rectangular enclosure, at each corner of which stood a red column not +altogether unlike a factory chimney. In the centre was a circular basin, very +wide, and full of clear water, while in front, three white marble domes rose +like great pearls gleaming against the cloudless blue. The mosque itself is +built of red—dark red—sandstone, decorated with floral designs in +white marble. +</p> + +<p> +We climbed one of the minarets, and had a view of the city at our feet, and the +green and fertile plains stretching dim into the shimmering haze beyond the +Ravee River. +</p> + +<p> +Then back to the hotel through the teeming alleys and down to the +station—the road, that we had found so bitterly cold in the early +morning, now a blaze of sunlight, where the dust stirred up by the shuffling +feet of the wayfarers quivered in the heat, and the shadows of men and beasts +lay short and black beneath them. +</p> + +<p> +We were not sorry to seek coolness in the bare railway carriage, and let the +fresh wind fan us as we sat by the open window and watched the flat, monotonous +landscape sliding past. +</p> + +<p> +The journey from Lahore to Rawal Pindi is not a very long one—only about +170 miles, or less than the distance from London to York; but an Indian train +being more leisurely in its movement than the Great Northern Express, gave us +ample time to contemplate the frequent little villages—all very much +alike—all provided with a noisy population, among which dogs and children +were extremely prevalent; the level plains, broken here and there by clumps of +unfamiliar trees, and inhabited by scattered herds of water buffaloes, cattle, +and under-sized sheep, all busily engaged in picking up a precarious +livelihood, chiefly roast straw, as far as one could see! +</p> + +<p> +We had grown so accustomed to the monotony of the plains, that when we suddenly +became aware of a faint blue line of mountains paling to snow, where they +melted into the sky, the Himalayas came upon us almost with a shock of +surprise. +</p> + +<p> +As we drew nearer, the rampart of mountains that guards India on the north, +took form and substance, until at Jhelum we fairly left the plain and began to +ascend the lower foothills. +</p> + +<p> +Between Jhelum and Rawal Pindi the line runs through a country that can best be +described by that much abused word “weird.” Originally a succession +of clayey plateaux, the erosion of water has worn and honeycombed a tortuous +maze of abrupt clefts and ravines, leaving in many cases mere shafts and +pinnacles, whose fantastic tops stand level with the surrounding country. The +sun set while we were still winding through a labyrinth of peaks and pits, and +the effect of the contrasting red gold lights and purple shadows in this +strange confused landscape was a thing to be remembered. +</p> + +<p> +We rolled and bumped into Pindi at 8 P.M., having travelled nearly 1000 miles +during our two days and nights in the train. +</p> + +<p> +Our friends the Smithsons were on the platform waiting to receive us and +welcome us as strangers and pilgrims in an unknown land. They have only +remained here to meet us, and they proceed to Kashmir to-morrow, sleeping in a +carriage in the quiet backwater of a siding, to save themselves the worry of a +desperately early start to-morrow morning. +</p> + +<p> +The direct route into Kashmir by Murree is impassable, the snow being still +deep owing to a very late spring following a severe winter. This will oblige us +to go round by Abbotabad, so I wired to my friend General Woon to warn him that +we propose to invade his peaceful home. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sunday, March 26.</i>—We stayed a couple of days at Pindi, in order to +make arrangements for transporting ourselves and our luggage into Kashmir. The +journey can be made <i>viâ</i> Murree in about a couple of days by mail tonga, +but it is a joyless and horribly wearing mode of travel. The tonga, a +two-wheeled cart covered by an arched canvas hood and drawn by two half-broken +horses, holds a couple of passengers comfortably, who sit behind and stare at +the flying white ribbon of road for long, long hours, while the driver urges +his wild career. The horses are changed every ten miles or so, and horrible and +blood-curdling tales are extant of the villainy and wrong-headedness of some of +these tonga ponies, how they jib for sheer pleasure, and leap over the low +parapet that guards them from the precipice merely to vex the helpless +traveller. When we suggested that to sit facing the past might be conducive to +a sort of sea-sickness and certainly to headache, and that a total absence of +view was to be deprecated, it was impressed upon us that if the horses darted +over the “khud,” we could slip out suddenly and easily, leaving the +driver and the ponies to be dashed to pieces by themselves! This appeared +sound, but, upon inquiry I could not hear that any accident had ever happened +to any traveller going into Kashmir by tonga. +</p> + +<p> +Besides the tonga, there are other modes of going into Kashmir. For instance, +the sluggish bullock-cart—safe, deliberate, and affording ample leisure +for admiring the scenery; the light native cart, or ekka, consisting of a +somewhat small body screened by a wide white hood, and capable of holding far +more luggage than would at first sight seem possible, and drawn by a +scraggy-looking but much enduring little horse tied up by a wild and +complicated system of harness (chiefly consisting of bits of old rope) between +a pair of odd V-shaped shafts. +</p> + +<p> +Finally, there is the landau—a civilised and luxurious method of +conveyance which greatly appealed to us. We decided upon chartering a landau +for ourselves and servant, and two ekkas to carry the heavy baggage. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. de Mars, the landlord of the hotel, was most obliging in helping us to +arrange for our journey, promising to provide us with carriage and ekkas for a +sum which did not seem to me to be at all exorbitant. +</p> + +<p> +I soon found, however, that the worthy Sabz Ali did not at all approve of the +arrangement. It was extremely hard to find out by means of his scant English +what he proposed to do; but I decided that here was an excellent opportunity of +finding out what he was good for, so we determined to give him his head, and +let him make his own arrangements. +</p> + +<p> +A smile broke over his swarthy face for a moment, and he disappeared, coming +back shortly afterwards just as the already ordered ekkas made their +appearance. +</p> + +<p> +These he promptly dismissed—much to the vexation of Mr. de Mars; but I +explained to him that I intended to see if my man was really to be depended +upon as an organiser, and that I should allow him to work upon his own lines. +</p> + +<p> +We had arranged to sleep in a carriage drawn into a siding at the station, to +avoid a very early start next morning. So after dinner we strolled down towards +our bedroom to find our henchman on the platform, full of zeal and energy. I +found out (with difficulty) that he proposed to go on to Hassan Abdal with the +luggage that night by goods train; that we should find him there next morning, +and that all would be right. So he departed, and we rolled ourselves up in our +“resais,” and wondered how it would all turn out. +</p> + +<p> +On Friday morning we rattled out of Rawal Pindi about seven, and slowly wound +through a rather stony and uninteresting country, until we arrived at the end +of our railway journey about ten o’clock, and scrambled out at the little +roadside station. +</p> + +<p> +Our excellent factotum, Sabz Ali, awaited us with a capacious landau, and +informed us that the heavy baggage had gone on in the ekkas. So we set forth at +once on our 42-mile drive to Abbotabad without “reposing for a time in +the rich valley of Hussun Abdaul, which had always been a favourite +resting-place of the Emperors in their annual migrations to Cashmere” +(<i>Lalla Rookh</i>). +</p> + +<p> +The landau, though roomy and comfortable, was, like Una’s lion, a +“most unhasty beast,” and we rolled quite slowly and deliberately +over a distinctly uninteresting plain for about twenty miles, until we came to +Haripur, a pretty village enclosed in a perfect mass of fruit trees in full +bloom. +</p> + +<p> +Here we changed horses, and lunched at the dâk bungalow—a first and +favourable experience of that useful institution. The dâk bungalow generally +consists of a simple wooden building containing a dining-room and several +bedrooms opening on to a verandah, which usually runs round three sides of the +house. The furniture is strong and simple, consisting of tables, bedsteads, and +some long chairs. A khansamah or cook provides food and liquor at a fixed and +reasonable rate. +</p> + +<p> +Travellers are only permitted to remain for twenty-four hours if the rooms are +wanted, each person paying one rupee (1s. 4d.) for a night, or half that amount +for a mere day halt. +</p> + +<p> +The khansamah would appear to be the only functionary in residence until the +hour of departure draws near, when a whole party of +underlings—chowkidars, bheesties, and sweepers—appear from nowhere +in particular; and the lordly traveller, having presented them with about +twopence apiece, rolls off along the dusty white road, leaving the khansamah +and his myrmidons salaaming on the verandah. +</p> + +<p> +We made the mistake of over-tipping at first in India, not realising that a +couple of annas out here go as far as a shilling at home; but it is a mistake +which should be rectified as soon as possible, for you get no credit for +lavishness, but are merely regarded as a first-class idiot. No sane man would +ever expend two annas where one would do! +</p> + +<p> +On leaving Haripur the road began to ascend a little, and at the village of +Sultanpur we entered a valley, through which a shrunken stream ran, and which +we crossed more than once. +</p> + +<p> +Then a long ascent of about eleven miles brought us near our destination. +</p> + +<p> +It had been threatening rain all the afternoon, and now the weather made its +threat good, and the rain fell in earnest. It grew dark, too; and, finally, not +having had any reply to my telegram to General Woon, we did not know whether we +were expected or not. +</p> + +<p> +Sabz Ali, however, had no doubts on the matter. We were approaching his own +particular country, and whether “Gen’l ’Oon Sahib” was +there to entertain us or not, <i>he</i> was; and so it was +“alright.” +</p> + +<p> +Our poor horses were done to a turn, a heavy landau with five people in it, as +well as a fair amount of luggage, being no trifle to drag up so long and steep +a hill. So we had to walk up the last rise to the General’s house in the +dark and rain, mildly cheered, however, by finding the two ekkas just arrived +with the baggage. +</p> + +<p> +A most hearty greeting from my old friend and his charming wife awaited us, and +after a hasty toilet and an excellent dinner we felt at peace with all the +world. +</p> + +<p> +Both yesterday (Saturday) and to-day it has been cold and disagreeable. The +past winter, I am told, has been a very severe one, and the melancholy brown +skeletons of all the eucalyptus trees in the place show the dismal results of +the frost. +</p> + +<p> +This forenoon the day darkened, and a very severe thunderstorm broke. So dark +was it at lunch that candles had to be lighted in haste, and even now (4 P.M.) +I can barely see to write. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Thursday, March</i> 30.—Monday was showery, and Tuesday decidedly wet; +but, in spite of the hospitable blandishments of our kind hosts, we were most +anxious to get on, as, having arranged with the Smithsons to go into the Astor +district to shoot, it was most important to reach Srinagar before the first of +April—the day upon which the shooting passes were to be issued to +sportsmen in rotation of application. Knowing that only ten passes were to be +given for Astor, and that several men were ahead of me, I felt that we were +running it somewhat fine to leave only three days for the journey. +</p> + +<p> +General Woon, who knew Kashmir well, did his very best to dissuade us from +attempting the passes into Astor, reading to us gloomy extracts from his +journal, and pointing out that it was no fit country for a lady in early +spring. +</p> + +<p> +He did much to shake our enthusiasm, but still I felt we must do our best to +“keep tryst” with the Smithsons. So, on Tuesday, we sent on the +heavy luggage in two ekkas which Sabz Ali had procured, the two others being +only hired from Hassan Abdal to Abbotabad. +</p> + +<p> +Sabz Ali had pointed out that, although he himself was a wonderful man, and +could do almost, if not quite, everything, a second servant would be greatly to +our (and his) advantage. So, acting on my permission, he engaged one +Ayata—a gentle person of a sheep-like disposition, who did everything he +was told, and nothing that he was told not to, during our sojourn in Kashmir. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>CHAPTER IV<br/> +ABBOTABAD TO SRINAGAR</h2> + +<p> +Dismal tidings came in of floods and storms on the Hassan Abdal road. The river +had swollen, and both men and beasts had been swept away while trying to cross. +Undeterred, however, by such news, even when backed by warnings and persuasions +from our friends, we set forth in the rain yesterday morning. The prospect was +not cheerful—a grey veil of cloud lay over all the surrounding hills, +here and there deepening into dark and angry thunder-clouds. The road was +desperately heavy, but the General had most kindly sent on a pair of mules +ahead, and, with another pair in the shafts, our own nags took a holiday as far +as Manserah. +</p> + +<p> +The weather grew worse. It rained very heavily and thundered with great vigour, +and as we straggled up the deeply-muddied slope to the dâk bungalow at Manserah +we felt somewhat low; but we did not in the least realise what was before us! +</p> + +<p> +Our road had lain through fairly level plains, with low cuttings here and +there, where the saturated soil was already beginning to give way and fall upon +the road in untidy heaps; but this did not foreshadow what might occur later. +</p> + +<p> +At Manserah we met Hill and Hunt, two young gunners, <i>en route</i> for Astor. +They left in a tonga soon after we arrived, and we did not expect to see their +speedier outfit again. +</p> + +<p> +Being pressed for time, we only had a cup of cocoa, and then hastened on our +dismal career. +</p> + +<p> +The road grew steeper, winding over some low hills, but we could not see very +much, as the whirling cloud masses blotted out all the view. By-and-by it bent +towards a pine-clad hill, and began to ascend steeply. By this time we were +very wet, as we had to walk up the hills to ease the horses. The scene was +extraordinary, as the great thunder-clouds boiled up and over us—tawny +yellow, and even orange in the lights, and dull and solid lead colour in the +depths. The distance was invisible, but gleams now and again revealed, through +the drifts of rain, wide stretches of cultivated land lying below us, and a +ragged forest of pines piercing the mist above. +</p> + +<p> +Dripping, we walked by our wet horses up to the top of the pass, hoping for a +swift and easy descent on the farther side to Ghari Habibullah, where we +intended to sleep, as we had given up all idea of being able to get on to +Domel. +</p> + +<p> +Presently the horses were pulled up sharply as a ton or two of rock and earth +came crashing upon the road in front of us. +</p> + +<p> +More fallen masses encumbering the way farther on made us feel rather anxious, +until, on rounding a corner, we found the whole road barred by a huge mass of +rock and soil. +</p> + +<p> +It was blowing hard, the stormy wind striking chill and bleak through the +bending pines; it was raining in torrents; it was 5 P.M., and we were still +some six miles from the haven where we would be; so, after a short and utterly +ineffectual attempt to get the carriage past the obstacle, Jane and I set off +to walk down the hill and seek help. +</p> + +<p> +It was exciting, as we had to dodge the rock-falls and run past the +shaky-looking places! At a turn of the road we came upon the gunners’ +tonga, embedded in a mud-slide. The occupants had had an escape from total +wreck, as one of the ponies had swerved over the khud, but the other saved the +situation by lying down in the mud! Hunt had gone off into the landscape to try +for a village and help, while Hill remained to wrestle with the tonga, which, +however, remained obstinately immovable. We could do nothing to mend matters, +so we fled on, meeting Hunt, with a few natives and a shovel, on his way back +to the scene of action. +</p> + +<p> +After an hour and a half of very anxious work, we emerged at dusk from the +wood, hoping our troubles were over. We could dimly see, and hear, through the +mist a stream below us; but, alas! no bridge was visible. I commandeered a man +from the first hut we came to, and tried by signs to make him understand that +he was to carry the lady across the river; but, luckily, just as we reached the +bank of what was a very nasty-looking stream in full spate, the liberated tonga +overtook us, and Jane was bundled into it, while we three men waded. The stream +was strong and up to our knees, and level with the tonga floor, and the horses +getting frightened began to jib. Hill seized one by the head, and Jane was +safely drawn to shore and sent on her way under guidance of the driver, while +we tramped on in the dark until a second torrent barred our way. Here, in the +gloom, we made out the tonga empty, and stuck fast against the far bank. It was +all right though, for Jane had crawled out at the front and wandered on in +search of the dâk bungalow, leaving the driver squatting helplessly beside the +water. +</p> + +<p> +It was so dark that she missed the bungalow, which stands a little above the +road, and struggled on till she came to a small cluster of native huts. One of +the inhabitants, on being boldly accosted, was good enough to point out the +way, and so the re-united party—tired, wet, and with no prospect of dry +clothing—took possession of the cheerless-looking dâk bungalow. Things +now began to improve. To our joy we found our ekkas with their contents drawn +up in the yard. And while a fire was being encouraged into a blaze, and the +lean fowl was being captured and slain on the back premises, we obtained dry +garments—of sorts—from the baggage. +</p> + +<p> +Madame’s dinner costume consisted of a blue flannel +garment—nocturnal by design—delicately covered by a quilted +dressing-gown, and the rest of us were <i>en suite</i>, a great lack of detail +as to collars and foot-wear being apparent! Nevertheless, the fire blazed +royally, and we ate up all the old hen and called for more, and prepared to +make a night of it until, about ten o’clock, our bearer Sabz Ali +appeared, with a train of coolies carrying our bedding and the other contents +of the derelict carriage. +</p> + +<p> +This morning the two young gunners departed on foot, leaving their tonga, as +the road to Domel is reported to be quite impassable. They intend to walk by a +short cut over the hills, and get on as best they may, the race for Astor being +a keen one. +</p> + +<p> +We decided to remain here, the weather being still gloomy and unsettled, and +the road being impossible for a lady. +</p> + +<p> +At noon the landau was brought in, minus a step and very dirty, but otherwise +“unwounded from the dreadful close.” +</p> + +<p> +Ghari Habibullah is not at all a cheerful spot, as it appears, the centre of a +grey haze, with dense mist low down on the surrounding mountains. Sabz Ali, +too, complains of fever, which is not surprising after the wetting and exposure +of yesterday; and when a native gets “fever” he curls up and is fit +for nothing, and won’t try. +</p> + +<p> +The dâk bungalow stands on a little plateau overlooking the road and a swift +river, whose tawny waves were loaded with mud washed from the hills by recent +storms. On a slope opposite, the queer, flat-roofed native village perched, and +above it swirled a misty pall which hid all but the bases of the hills. To this +village we strolled, but it was not interesting; the inhabitants did not seem +wildly friendly, and the mud and dirt and dogs were discouraging. So we roamed +along the Domel road till we came to a high cliff of conglomerate, which had +recently been shedding boulders over the track to an alarming extent; so, +deciding that it would be merely silly to risk getting our heads cracked, we +turned back, and, re-crossing the river, clambered up a steep path above the +right bank. Here we soon found great rents and rifts where falling rocks had +come bounding down the steeps from above, so once more we turned tail, and, +giving up the idea of any more country walks in that region, betook ourselves +to the gloomy and chilly bungalow. The only really delightful things we saw +during our doleful excursion were a lovely clump of big, rose-coloured primula, +drooping from the clefts of a steep rock, and a pair of large and handsome +kingfishers,[1] pursuing their graceful avocations by a roadside +pool—their white breasts, ruddy flanks, and gleaming blue backs giving a +welcome note of colour to the sedate and misty grey of the landscape. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[1] <i>N. Smyrnensis</i> (?). +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tuesday, April</i> 4.—Thirty-six hours of Ghari Habibullah give ample +time for the loneliest recluse to pant for the bustle of a livelier world. We +were so bored on Thursday that we determined to push on, <i>coûte que +coûte</i>, on Friday morning, although a note sent back by one of the gunners +from Domel, by a coolie, informed us that the road about a mile short of that +place was completely blocked by a fallen mass of some hundreds of tons. +</p> + +<p> +Our henchman having somewhat recovered of his fever, thanks to a generous +exhibition of quinine, we gave the order to pack and start, hoping to achieve +the twelve miles which separated us from Domel, even though the last bit had to +be done on foot. About two miles from Ghari Habibullah we came to the Kashmir +custom-house, presided over by a polite gentleman, whose brilliant purple beard +was a joy to look upon. +</p> + +<p> +Most of the elderly natives dye their beards with, I think, henna, producing a +fine orange effect, but purple…! +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +<i>Bottom</i>. What beard were I best to play it in? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Quince</i>. Why, what you will. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Bottom</i>. I will discharge it in either your straw-coloured beard, your +orange-tawny beard, your purple-in-grain beard, or your French-crown-colour +beard, your perfect yellow +</p> + +<p class="right"> +<i>Midsummer Night’s Dream</i>,<br/> +Act I. Sc. 2. +</p> + +<p> +“What <i>coloured beard</i> comes next by the window?” +</p> + +<p> +“A black man’s, I think.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think a <i>red</i>: for that is most in fashion.” +</p> + +<p class="right"> +R<small>AM</small> A<small>LLY</small>. +</p> + +<p> +Truly, until I beheld that tax-gatherer of the Orient, I had no idea that the +“purple-in-grain” beard existed outside a poet’s fancy! +</p> + +<p> +The road took us along the left bank of the river, whose soil-stained waters +churned their way through a wild and rocky gorge. On our left the mountain rose +bare and steep, fringed with a few straggling bushes, and here and there a +clinging patch of rose-coloured primula. Part of the conglomerate cliff had +come down and obliterated the road, but a party of coolies was busily at work, +and, after about an hour’s delay, we triumphantly bumped our way past. +</p> + +<p> +The road now led steadily upward, leaving an ever-increasing slope (or khud) +between it and the river, until it attained a height of over a thousand feet, +when, turning to the left, it swung over the watershed, and began to descend +into the valley of the Kishenganga. Through the haze we could make out Domel, +our goal, lying far below, and then the old Sikh fort of Musafferabad. +</p> + +<p> +The road was so encumbered with rock-falls that we walked the greater part of +it, until we came to the new bridge over the Kishenganga, whose dark red waters +rush into the Jhelum about a mile below. +</p> + +<p> +Here was Musafferabad, the whole place a confused jumble of wheeled traffic +caught up by the big landslip in front. Passing, amid the chatter and clamour +of men and beasts, through the medley of bullock-carts and ekkas that crowded +every available space, we hauled the carriage through the bed of a watercourse +whose bridge was broken. Up over the prostrate trunk of a fallen tree we +regained the road, to find ourselves in front of the big landslip of which we +had been warned. It consisted of some thousands of tons of dark red mud and +loose boulders, and it blocked the road for fully a couple of hundred yards. +</p> + +<p> +A large and energetic swarm of coolies was busily engaged in “tidying +up.” This was apparently to be achieved by means of shovels, each little +shovel worked by two men—one to shovel, and the other to assist in +raising it when full by means of a little rope round the head. This labour had +to be lubricated by much conversation. +</p> + +<p> +It seemed upon the whole unlikely that a path could be made for a considerable +time, so we lunched peacefully in the carriage, a pair of extremely friendly +crows assisting at the feast, and then, leaving our landau to follow as best it +might, we walked into Domel, crossing the Jhelum by a fine bridge. +</p> + +<p> +The dâk bungalow, prettily placed in a clump of trees, seemed the abode of +luxury to us after the discomfort of Ghari Habibullah, and we fondly hoped +that, being now upon the main road which runs from Rawal Pindi to Srinagar, our +troubles were over. +</p> + +<p> +Saturday was the 1st of April, the day upon which I should have applied for my +pass for Astor. Wiring to Srinagar to explain that I was in Kashmir territory +(which I subsequently found was enough to entitle me to a pass), and also to +Smithson to say that we were making the best of our way to join him, we +“took the road” after breakfast. +</p> + +<p> +The carriage and the two ekkas had come in early, having been unloaded and then +carried bodily over the “slide.” +</p> + +<p> +A broad and smooth road, whose gentle gradient of ascent was merely sufficient +to keep us level with the river bank, opened up an alluring prospect of ease +and comfort. We lay back on our comfortable cushions and watched the clouds as +they swept over the mountains, hiding all but occasional glimpses of +snow-streaked slopes and steep and barren ridges. +</p> + +<p> +The valley of the Jhelum between Domel and Ghari is not beautiful—merely +wide and desolate, with steep hills rising from the river, their lower slopes +sparsely clad with leafless scrub, their shoulders merging into the dull mist +which hangs around their invisible summits. +</p> + +<p> +Alas! it soon became apparent that our troubles were not over. The cliffs above +us became steeper, and the familiar boulder reappeared upon the road. Small +landslips gave us a good deal of trouble, although we had no serious difficulty +before reaching Ghari. Here we were told that a complete “solution of +continuity” in the road at Mile 46 would prevent our reaching Chakhoti, +so we reluctantly decided to remain where we were for the night. Although a +cold and dull spring afternoon is not exciting at Ghari, where distractions are +decidedly scanty, we found interest in the discovery of the Smithsons’ +heavy luggage, which had been sent on from Rawal Pindi ages ago. Here it lay in +the peaceful backwater of a native caravansary, piled high on a bullock-cart, +whose placid team lay near pensively chewing the “cud of sweet and bitter +fancy,” and apparently quite innocent of any intention of moving for a +week or two! +</p> + +<p> +We extracted the charioteers from a neighbouring hut, and gave them to +understand, by means of Sabz Ali, that hanging was the least annoyance they +would suffer if they didn’t get under way “ek dam” at once. +They promptly promised that their oxen—like Pegasus—should fly on +the wings of the wind, and, having seen us safely round a corner, departed +peacefully to eat another lotus. +</p> + +<p> +The luggage arrived in Srinagar towards the end of the month. +</p> + +<p> +Sunday morning saw us again battling with a perfect coruscation of landslips; +so “jumpy” was it in many places that we sat with the carriage +doors ajar, in hopes that a timely dart out might enable us to evade a falling +rock. At Mile 46 we were held up for an hour until a ramp was made over a bad +slide, and the carriage and ekkas were unloaded and got across. The landau +looked for all the world like a great dead beetle surrounded by ants, as, +man-handled by a swarm of coolies, it was hauled, step by step, over the +improvised track. A landau is not at all a suitable or convenient carriage for +this sort of work, and had we guessed what was before us we should most +certainly have employed the handier tonga. +</p> + +<p> +The road to-day, cut as it was out of the steep flank of the mountain, was +magnificent, but, in its present condition, nerve-shattering. Fallen boulders +and innumerable mud-slides constantly forced us to get out and walk, while the +sturdy little horses tugged the carriage through places where the near wheels +were frequently within a few inches of the broken edge of the road, while far +below Jhelum roared hungrily as he foamed by the foot of a sheer precipice. +</p> + +<p> +Reaching Chakhoti about four o’clock, we decided to remain there for the +night, as it was growing late and the weather looked gloomy and threatening. +Although we had only achieved a short stage of twenty-one miles, there was no +suitable place for a night’s halt until Uri, distant some thirteen miles +and all uphill. +</p> + +<p> +About half a mile above Chakhoti there is a rope bridge over the Jhelum, and +after tea we set forth to inspect it. +</p> + +<p> +The river is here about 150 yards wide and extremely swift, and I confess the +means of crossing it, although practised with perfect confidence by the +natives, did not appeal to me. +</p> + +<p> +From two great uprights, formed from solid tree-trunks, three strong ropes were +stretched—the upper two parallel, and the third, about four feet lower, +was equidistant from each. +</p> + +<p> +These three ropes were kept in their relative positions by wooden +stretchers—something like great merrythoughts, lashed at intervals of a +few yards— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“And up and down the people go,” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +stepping delicately upon the lower rope, and holding on to the upper ones with +their hands. The uncomfortable part seemed to the unpractised European to be +where the graceful sweep of the long ropes brought the traveller to within a +painfully close distance of the hurrying, hungry water, before he began to +slither circumspectly up the farther slope! +</p> + +<p> +We stood for some little time watching the natives going to and fro, passing +one another with perfect ease by means of a dexterous squirm, and carrying +loads on their backs, or live fowls under their arms, with the utmost +unconcern. +</p> + +<p> +We left Chakhoti early this morning—Tuesday—with the intention of +getting right through to Baramula. The road was of course extremely bad, and +the long ascent to Uri very hard upon our willing little nags. Of course they +have had a remarkably easy time of it lately, as we have been limited to very +short stages, and they are in excellent hard condition, so that we felt it no +great hardship to ask them to do forty-two miles: albeit to drag a heavy landau +containing five people and a good deal of luggage for that distance, with a +rise of over 2000 feet, is a heavy demand upon a single pair of horses! +</p> + +<p> +The scenery was very fine as we toiled up the gorge, in which Uri stands on a +plateau over the river and guards the pass into Kashmir valley. +</p> + +<p> +The ruins of an ancient fort rose on the near edge of the little plain. The +Jhelum tore through a rocky gorge far below, and a dark semi-circle of +mountains stood steeply up, their cloud-hidden summits giving fleeting glimpses +of snow and precipice and pine-clad corries as the sun now and again shot +through the clinging vapours. +</p> + +<p> +The dâk bungalow of Uri, white and clean, was most attractive, and I should +imagine the place to be charming in summer, but as yet the short crisp turf is +still brown from recent snow, and although hot in the sun, which now began to +shine steadily, it was extremely cold in the shade, while lunch (or should I +say “tiffin”?) was being got ready. I strolled over to the +post-office to find—as usual—another urgent wire from Smithson +several days old, beseeching me to secure my pass for Astor at once. Directly +after lunch we set forward, and as the road on leaving Uri takes a long bend of +some miles to the right to a point where the Haji Pir River is crossed, and +then sweeps back along its right hank to a spot almost opposite the dâk +bungalow, we thought that a short cut down to the water, which from our height +seemed quite insignificant, and thence up to the road on the other side, would +be a desirable stroll. As we walked down the steep path into the nullah a brace +of red-legged partridges (chikor) rose in a great fuss, and sailed gaily across +the river, whose roaring gained ominously in volume as we drew near. It soon +became plain to us that everything is on a very big scale in this country, and +that the clearness of the atmosphere helps to delude the unwary stranger. The +little stream that seemed to require but an occasional stepping-stone to enable +us to pass over dry-shod, proved in the first place to be much farther off than +we had supposed, and when, after a hot scramble, we found ourselves on the +bank, the stepping-stones were no more, but only here and there we saw the +shoulders of huge rocks which doggedly threw aside the flying foam of a +fair-sized river. It was obviously impossible to cross except by deep wading, +but, being unwilling to own defeat, I yelled to a brown native on the far bank, +and made signs that he should come and do beast of burthen. He, however, +stolidly shook his head, pointed to the water, and then to his chest, and +finally we sadly and wrathfully toiled back to the road we had so lightly left, +and expended all our energies on attracting the notice of the carriage, which, +having crossed the bridge, was crawling along the opposite face of the nullah, +and when, after a hot three miles, we once more embedded ourselves amongst the +cushions with a sigh of relief, we swore off short cuts for the future. +</p> + +<p> +We had been warned at Uri that there was a “bad place” at Mile 73, +and sure enough, on rounding a bend, we came upon the familiar mass of +semi-liquid red earth and a pile of boulders heaped across the road, the khud +side of which had entirely given way. The usual crowd of coolies was busily +engaged in trying to clear the obstruction by means of toothpicks and +teaspoons. +</p> + +<p> +We quitted the carriage with a celerity engendered of much practice, and, +having crossed the obstacle on foot, sat down to await the coming of our +conveyance. +</p> + +<p> +It seemed perfectly marvellous that the heavy vehicle could be safely got over +a jagged avalanche of earth and rock piled some eight or ten feet above the +roadway, and having an almost sheer drop to the river entirely unguarded for +some hundred yards, where the retaining parapet and even some of the road +itself had gone. +</p> + +<p> +Amid much apparent confusion and tremendous chattering, a sort of rough ramp +was engineered up the slip, and presently the horseless landau appeared borne +in triumph by a mob of coolies superintended by our priceless Sabz Ali. +</p> + +<p> +For a minute we held our breath as one of the near wheels lipped the edge of +the chasm, but the thing was judged to an inch, and in due time the sturdy +chestnuts, the two ekkas, and all the luggage were assembled on the right side +of what proved to be the last of the really bad slips. +</p> + +<p> +The road engineer, who arrived in great state on a motor cycle while we were +executing the portage, told us that there were no more difficulties, but an +officer who was going out, and whose tonga was checked also at the big slip, +informed us that about a mile farther were two great boulders on the road, +lying so that although a short vehicle such as a tonga or motor cycle could +wriggle round, yet a long four-wheeled landau could not possibly execute the +serpentine curve required. +</p> + +<p> +We therefore requisitioned a few coolies with crowbars, and set forward to +attack the boulders. Sure enough there were two beauties, placed so that we +could not possibly get by, until a large slice was chipped from the inner side +of each. +</p> + +<p> +This done, our most excellent and skilful driver piloted his ponies through the +narrow strait, and we felt that, at last, our troubles were over, and that we +could breathe freely and admire at leisure the snowy peaks of the Kaj-nag +beyond the Jhelum, and the rough wooded heights that frowned upon our right. +</p> + +<p> +I confess the relief was great, as we had endured six days of incessant strain +on our nerves, never knowing when a turn of the road might bring us to an +impassable break, or when the conglomerate cliffs beetling above might shed a +boulder or two upon us! +</p> + +<p> +Passing the somewhat uninviting little village of Rampur, we crossed a torrent +pouring out of a dark pine-clad gorge, and halted for tea by the curious ruined +temple of Bhanyar. The building consists of a rectangular wall, cloistered on +two sides of the interior and surrounding a small temple approached by a +dilapidated flight of stone steps. I regret to be obliged to own that I know +but a mere smattering of architecture. I do not feel competent therefore to +discuss this, the first Kashmiri temple I have seen, upon its architectural +merits. I only know that it struck me as being extremely small, and principally +interesting from its magnificent background of shaggy forest and snow-capped +mountain. +</p> + +<p> +Tea on a short smooth sward, starred with yellow colchicum, while the carriage, +travel-stained and with one step lacking, stood on the road hard by, and the +horses nibbled invigorating lumps of “gram” and molasses. Then the +etna was returned to the “allo bagh” (yellow bag) and the tea +things to the tiffin basket, and away we went along the now smooth and level +road with only fifteen easy miles between us and Baramula. +</p> + +<p> +The vegetation had gradually grown much richer. The sparse and storm-buffeted +pines and the rough scrub merged into a tangled mass of undergrowth and forest, +where silver firs and deodars rose conspicuous. The little streams that rushed +down the hillsides were fringed with maidenhair fern, lighted up here and there +with a bunch of pink primula or a tiny cluster of dog violets. +</p> + +<p> +Jhelum had ceased from roaring, pursuing his placid path unwitting of the rush +and fury that would befall him lower down, and by-and-by we emerged from the +dark and forest-covered gorge into a wide basin where the river, now smooth and +oily, reflected tall poplars and the red shoots of young dogwood. +</p> + +<p> +Through a village, round a sweep to the left, over a tract said to be much +frequented by serpents, and then in the deepening and chilly dusk we made out +Baramula, lying engirdled by a belt of poplars about a mile away. +</p> + +<p> +Glad were we, and probably gladder still our weary horses, to draw up before +the uninviting-looking dâk bungalow, knowing that only thirty-five miles of +level and open road lay now between us and Srinagar. +</p> + +<p> +The dâk bungalow of Baramula is, upon the whole, the worst we have yet sampled. +No fire seemed able to impart any cheerfulness to the gloomy den we were shown +into, and the dinner finally produced by the khansamah-kitmaghar-chowkidar (for +a single tawny-bearded ruffian represented all these functionaries when the +morning tip fell due) was not of an exhilarating nature. Strolling out to have +a look at the town of Baramula, I shivered to see a heap of snow piled up +against the wall. It snowed here, heavily, three days ago, I am told. +</p> + +<p> +We have not been, so far, altogether lucky in the weather. Bitter cold in +Europe, cold at Port Saïd and Suez, chilly in the Red Sea, and wet at Aden! +Distinctly chilly in India, excepting during the day; we seem to have hit off +the most backward spring known here for many years. The Murree route, which was +closed to us by snow, should have been clear a month earlier, and spring here +seems not yet to have begun. +</p> + +<p> +<i>April</i> 5.—We crept shivering to our beds last night, to be awakened +at 6 A.M. by an earthquake! +</p> + +<p> +I had just realised what the untoward commotion meant when I heard Jane from +under her “resai” ask, “What <i>is</i> the matter—is it +an earthquake?” Almost before I could reply, she was up and away, in a +fearful hurry and very little else, towards the open country. +</p> + +<p> +I followed, but finding hoar-frost on the ground and a nipping eagerness in the +air, I went back for a “resai.” The feeling was that of going into +one’s cabin in a breeze of wind, and the door was flapping about. Seizing +the wrap in some haste, as I was afraid of the door jamming, I rejoined Jane in +the open, to watch the poplars swaying like drunken men and the solid earth +bulging unpleasantly. The shock lasted for three minutes, and when it seemed +quite over we retired to our beds to try to get warm again. +</p> + +<p> +The morning at breakfast-time was perfectly beautiful. Baramula lay serenely +mirrored in the silver waters of the Jhelum, its picturesque brown wooden +houses clustering on both banks, and joining hands by means of a long brown +wooden bridge. No signs of any unusual disturbance could be seen among the +chattering crews of the snaky little boats and deep-laden “doungas” +that lined the banks or furrowed the waters of the shining river. +</p> + +<p> +We left Baramula in high spirits to accomplish the five-and-thirty miles which +still stretched between us and Srinagar. The scenery was quite different from +anything we had yet known, for now we were in the broad flat valley of Kashmir, +which stretches for some eighty miles from beyond Islamabad, on the N.E., to +Baramula, planted at the neck where the Jhelum River, after spreading itself +abroad through the fertile plain, concentrates to pour its many waters through +the mountain barrier until it joins the Indus far away in Sind. +</p> + +<p> +A broad and level road stretched straight and white between a double row of +stark poplars, reminding one of the poplar-guarded ways of Picardy; also (as in +France) not only were the miles marked, but also the thirty-two subdivisions +thereof. On the right hand the ground sloped slowly up in a succession of +wooded heights, the foothills of the Pir Panjal, whose snow-crowned peaks +enclose the Kashmir valley on the south. Opposite, through a maze of leafless +trees, one caught occasional gleams of water where the winding reaches of the +river flowed gently from the turquoise haze where lay the Wular Lake, and +beyond—clear and pale in the clear, crisp air—shone a glorious +range of snow mountains, stretching away past where we knew Srinagar must lie, +to be lost in the distant haze where sky and mountain merged in the north-east. +</p> + +<p> +By the roadside we passed many small lakes, or “jheels,” full of +duck, but as there was never any cover by the sides I could not see how the +duck were to be approached. +</p> + +<p> +We lunched at the fascinating little bungalow at Patan (pronounced +“Puttun”), about half-way between Baramula and Srinagar. The Rest +House stands back from an apparently extremely populous and thriving village, +the inhabitants whereof were all engaged in conversation of a highly animated +kind! In the compound stood a fine group of chenar trees (<i>Platanus +orientalis</i>) whose noble trunks and graceful branches showed in striking +contrast to the slender stems of the poplars. The guide-book informed us that +an ancient temple lay in ruins near by, but we trusted to a later visit and +determined to push on. By-and-by a fort-crowned hill rose above the tree-tops. +This we took to be Hari Parbat, the ancient citadel of Srinagar, and presently, +through the poplars and the willows queer wooden huts or châlets began to +appear, and the increasing number of men and beasts upon the road showed the +proximity of the city. +</p> + +<p> +Ekkas, white-hooded, with jingling bells hung round the scraggy necks of their +lean ponies; brown men clad in sort of night-shirts composed of mud-coloured +rags; brown dogs, humpy cattle, and children innumerable, swarmed upon the +causeway in ever-increasing density until we drew up at the custom-house, and +the usual jabber took place among Sabz Ali, the driver, and the officials. +</p> + +<p> +All appeared satisfactory, however, and we were presented with bits of brown +paper scrawled over with hieroglyphics which we took to be passes, and drove +on, leaving the native town apparently on our left and making a détour through +level fields and between rows of poplars, until we swung round and crossed the +river by a fine bridge. Here we first got some idea of the city of Srinagar, +which lay spread around us, bisected by the broad, but apparently far from +sluggish river, which seems here to be about the width of the Thames at +Westminster at high water. +</p> + +<p> +Tier upon tier, the rickety wooden houses crowded either bank, the prevailing +brown being oddly lighted up by the roofs, which were frequently covered with +deep green turf. Here and there the steep and peculiar dome of a Hindu temple +flashed like polished silver in the keen sunlight, while around and beyond all +rose the ring of the everlasting hills, their peaks clear, yet soft, against a +background of cloudless blue. +</p> + +<p> +Close below us stood a remarkably picturesque pile of buildings, of a mixed +style of architecture, yet harmonising well enough as a whole with its +surroundings. Over it flew a great “banner with a strange device,” +and we assumed (and rightly) that we looked upon the palace of His Highness Sir +Pratab Singh, Maharajah of Jammu and Kashmir. +</p> + +<p> +Crossing the river, we dived into a bit of the native town, and were much +struck by the want of colour as compared with an Indian street. Everything +seemed steeped in the same neutral brown—houses, boats, people, and dogs! +Emerging from the native street, with its open shop-fronts and teeming life, we +drove for some little way along a straight level road, flanked, as usual, on +either side by poplars of great size which ran through a brown, flat field, +showing traces of recent snow, and finally finished our two-hundred-mile drive +in front of the one and only hotel in all Kashmir. +</p> + +<p> +Our two little chestnuts, which had brought us right through from Chakhoti to +Srinagar—a distance of about seventy-eight miles—in two days, were +as lively and fit as possible, and playfully nibbled at each other’s +noses as they were walked off to their well-earned rest. +</p> + +<p> +The ekka horses, too, had brought our heavy luggage all the way from Abbotabad +over a shocking road in the most admirable manner, and we had every reason to +congratulate ourselves on having entrusted the arrangement of the whole +business—the “bandobast” in native parlance—to our +henchman Sabz Ali, who had thus proved himself an energetic and trustworthy +organiser, and saving financier to the extent of some twenty rupees. +</p> + +<p> +I may emphasise here the importance of keeping one’s heavy baggage in +sight, herding on the ekkas in front, if possible, and keeping a wary eye and a +firm hand on the drivers at all halts. The Smithsons, who had sent on their +gear from Rawal Pindi some days before we got there, did not receive it in +Srinagar until the 22nd of April. It took about five weeks to do the journey, +and the rifle which I was obliged to leave in Karachi on the 19th of March +finally turned up in Srinagar, after an infuriating and vain expenditure of +telegrams, on the 1st of May! +</p> + +<p> +Of course, part of the delay was due, and all was attributed, to the unusually +bad state of the roads. The heavy storms and floods which, by wrecking the +road, had delayed us so much, naturally checked the heavy transport still more; +and severe congestion of bullock-carts resulted at all the halting-places along +the route. Still, the main cause of delay lies in the fact that the monopoly of +transport has been granted by the Maharajah to one Danjibhoy, who charges what +he pleases, and takes such time over his arrangements as suits his Oriental +mind. +</p> + +<p> +The motto over the Transport Office door might well be “<i>Ohne +Hast—mit Rast</i>!” +</p> + +<p> +The other (much-cherished) monopoly in this favoured land is that enjoyed by +Mr. Nedou, the owner of THE HOTEL in Kashmir. +</p> + +<p> +We were advised when at Lahore to approach Mr. Nedou (who winters in his branch +there) with many salaams and much “kow-towing,” in order to make a +certainty of being received into his select circle in Kashmir. The great man +was quite kind, and promised that he would do his best for us; and he was as +good as his word, as we were immediately welcomed and permitted to add two to +the four persons already inhabiting the hostelry. I confess that, even after a +dâk bungalow of the most inferior quality—such as that at Ghari +Habibullah or Baramula—Mr. Nedou’s hotel fails to impress one with +an undue sense of luxury. In fact, it presented an even desolate and forlorn +appearance with its gloomy and chilly passages and cheerless bed-vaults. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>CHAPTER V<br/> +FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF SRINAGAR</h2> + +<p> +We learnt that the earthquake of this morning was far more than the ordinary +affair that we had taken it to be. The hotel showed signs of a struggle for +existence. Large cracks in the plaster, spanned by strips of paper gummed +across to show if they widened, and little heaps of crumbled mortar on the +floors, betrayed that the grip of mother earth had been no feeble one. +</p> + +<p> +Telegrams from Lahore inquired if the rumour was true that Srinagar had been +much damaged, and reported an awful destruction and loss of life at Dharmsala. +I think if we had fully known what an earthquake really meant, we should not +have so calmly gone back to bed again! +</p> + +<p> +The advent of Mrs. Smithson upon the scene relieved a certain anxiety which we +had felt as to immediate plans. The idea of rushing into Astor had been given +up, we found—not so much on account of our tardy arrival, permits being +still obtainable, but on account of the impossibility—at any rate for +ladies—of forcing the high passes which the late season has kept safely +sealed. +</p> + +<p> +Walter, having pawed the ground in feverish impatience for some days, had gone +off into a region said to be full of bara singh; so we decided to possess our +souls in patience for a little time, and remain quietly in Srinagar. +Accordingly, instead of unpacking our “detonating musquetoons,” we +exhumed our evening clothes, and began life in Srinagar with a cheerful dinner +at the Residency. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Friday, April 7th</i>.—We are evidently somewhat premature here as far +as climate goes. The weather since our arrival has become cold and grey, and we +have seemed on the verge of another snowfall. However, the clerk of the weather +has refrained from such an insult, contenting himself with sending a breeze +down upon us fresh from the “Roof of the World,” and laden with the +chilly moisture of the snows. We have consumed great quantities of wood, vainly +endeavouring to warm up the den which Mr. Nedou has let to us as a +sitting-room. Fires are not the fashion in the public rooms—probably +because the only “public” besides ourselves consist of one or two +enterprising sportsmen, who doubtless are acclimatising themselves to camp life +amid the snows, and have implored the proprietor to save his fuel and keep the +outer doors open. +</p> + +<p> +Yesterday, we went on a shopping excursion down the river, our +“hansom” being a long narrow sort of canoe, propelled and +dexterously steered by four or five paddlers, whose mode of <i>digging</i> +along by means of their heart-shaped blades reminded me not a little of the +Kroo boys paddling a fish-canoe off Elmina on the Gold Coast. +</p> + +<p> +We embarked close to the back of the hotel, at the Chenar Bagh, and went gaily +enough down the strong current of what we took to be an affluent of the Jhelum. +As a matter of fact, the European quarter forms an island, low and perfectly +flat, the banks of which are heaped into a high dyke or “bund,” +washed on one side (the south) by the main river, and on the other by the +Sunt-i-kul Canal, down which we have been paddling. +</p> + +<p> +The river life was most fascinating—crowds of heavy doungas lay moored +along the banks—their long, low bodies covered in by matting, and their +extremities sloping up into long peaked platforms for the crew. +These—many of them women and children—were all clothed in +neutral-tinted gowns, the only bit of colour being an occasional note of red or +white in the puggaree of the men or skull-cap of the children. The married +women invariably wore whity-brown veils over the head. The wooden houses that +lined the banks were all in the general low scheme of colour, but a peculiar +charm was added by the roofs covered in thick, green turf. +</p> + +<p> +Srinagar has been called the “Venice of the East,” and, inasmuch as +waterways form the main thoroughfares in both, there is a certain resemblance. +Shikaras (the Kashmiri canoes) are first-cousins to gondolas—rather poor +relations perhaps; both are dingy and clumsy in appearance, and both are +managed with an extraordinary dexterity by their navigators. +</p> + +<p> +Both cities are “smelly,” though Venice, even at its worst, stands +many degrees above the incredible filth of Srinagar. +</p> + +<p> +Finally—both cities are within sight of snowy ranges; although it seems +hardly fair to place in comparison the majestic range that overhangs Srinagar +and the somewhat distant and sketchy view of the Alps as seen from Venice. +</p> + +<p> +Here, I think, all resemblance ceases. The charm of Venice lies in its +architecture, its art treasures, its historical memories, and its interesting +people. +</p> + +<p> +Srinagar has no architecture in particular, being but a picturesque chaos of +tumble-down wooden shanties. It has no history worth speaking of, and its +inhabitants are—and apparently have always been—a poor lot. +</p> + +<p> +Shopping in Srinagar is not pure and unadulterated joy. Down the river, spanned +by its seven bridges, amidst a network of foul-smelling alleys, you are dragged +to the emporiums of the native merchants whose advertisements flare upon the +river banks, and who, armed with cards, and possessed of a wonderful supply of +the English language, swarm around the victim at every landing-place, and +almost tear one another in pieces while striving to obtain your custom. +</p> + +<p> +Samad Shall, in a conspicuous hoarding, announces that he can—and +will—supply you with anything you may desire, including money—for +he proclaims himself to be a banker. +</p> + +<p> +Ganymede, in his own opinion, is the only wood-carver worth attention. +</p> + +<p> +Suffering Moses is the prince of workers in lacquer, according to his own +showing. +</p> + +<p> +The nose of the boat grates up against the slimy step of the landing-place, and +you plunge forthwith into Babel. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you come to my shop?” +</p> + +<p> +“No—you are going somewhere else.” +</p> + +<p> +“After?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps!” +</p> + +<p> +“To-day, master?” +</p> + +<p> +“No—no time to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +“To-morrow, then—I got very naice kyriasity +[curiosity]—to-morrow, master—what time?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! get out! and leave me alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“I send boat for you—ten o’clock to-morrow?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Twelve o’clock?” &c. &c. +</p> + +<p> +After a short experience of Kashmiri pertinacity and business methods, you +cease from politeness and curtly threaten the river. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly the Kashmiri are exceedingly clever and excellent workers in many +ways. Their modern embroideries (the old shawl manufacture is totally extinct) +are beautiful and artistic. Their wood-carving, almost always executed in rich +brown walnut, is excellent; and their <i>old</i> papier-mâché lacquer is very +good. The tendency, however, is unfortunately to abandon their own admirable +designs, and assimilate or copy Western ideas as conveyed in very doubtful +taste by English visitors. +</p> + +<p> +The embroidery has perhaps kept its individuality the best, although the trail +of the serpent as revealed in “quaint” Liberty or South Kensington +designs is sometimes only too apparent. Certain plants—Lotus, Iris, +Chenar leaf, and so-called Dal Lake leaves, as well as various designs taken +from the old Kashmir shawls, give scope to the nimble brains and fingers of the +embroiderers, who, by-the-bye, are all male. +</p> + +<p> +Their colours, almost invariably obtained from native dyes, are excellent, and +they rarely make a mistake in taste. +</p> + +<p> +The coarser work in wool on cushions, curtains, and thick white numdahs is most +effective and cheap. +</p> + +<p> +Curiously enough, the best of these numdahs (which make capital rugs or bath +blankets) are made in Yarkand; and Stein, in his <i>Sand-Buried Cities of +Kotan</i>, found in ancient documents, of the third century or so, “the +earliest mention of the felt-rugs or ‘numdahs’ so familiar to +Anglo-Indian use, which to this day form a special product of Kotan home +industry, and of which large consignments are annually exported to Ladak and +Kashmir.” +</p> + +<p> +The manufacture of carpets is receiving attention, and Messrs. Mitchell own a +large carpet factory. Designs and colours are good, but the prices are not low +enough to enable them to compete with the cheap Indian makes; nor, I make bold +to say, is the quality such as to justify high prices. The shop of Mohamed Jan +is well worth a visit, for three good reasons—first, because his Oriental +carpets from Penjdeh and Khiva are of the best; second, because his house is +one of the first specimens of a high-class native dwelling existing; and third, +because he never worries his customers nor touts for orders—but, then, he +is a Persian, and not a Kashmiri! +</p> + +<p> +The famous shawls which fetched such prices in England in early Victorian days +are no longer valued, having suffered an eclipse similar to that undergone by +the pictures of certain early Victorian Royal Academicians, and the loss of the +shawl trade was a severe blow to Kashmir. With the exception of occasional +specimens of these shawls, which, however, can be bought cheaper at sales in +London, there are no <i>old</i> embroideries to be got. +</p> + +<p> +The wood-carving industry, too, is quite modern; but, although of great +excellence and ingenuity in manipulation, it does not appeal to me, being too +florid and copious in its application of design. A restless confusion of +dragons from Leh, lotus from the Dal Lake, and the ever-present chenar leaf, +hobnob together with British—very British—crests and monograms on +the tops of tables and the seats of chairs—portions of the furniture that +should be left severely plain. +</p> + +<p> +British taste is usually bad, and to it, and not to Kashmiri initiative, must +be ascribed the production of such exotic works as bellows embellished with +chaste designs of lotus-buds, and afternoon tea-tables flaunting coats-of-arms +(doubtless dating from the Conquest), beautifully carved in high relief just +where the tray—the bottom of which is probably ornamented with a flowing +design of raised flowers—should rest! +</p> + +<p> +The lacquered papier-maché work—often extremely pretty when left to its +own proper Cabul pattern or other native design—aims too often at +attracting the eye of the mighty hunter by introducing an inappropriate +markhor’s head. The old lacquer-work is difficult to get, and, when +obtained, is high in price; but comparison between the old and the new shows +the gulf that lies between the loving and skilful labour of the artist and the +stupid and generally “scamped” achievement of him who merely +“knocks off” candlesticks and tobacco-boxes by the score, to sell +to the English visitor—papier-maché being superseded by wood, and lacquer +by paint. +</p> + +<p> +The workers in silver, copper, and brass are many, but their productions are +usually rough and inartistic. Genuine old beaten metal-work is almost +unobtainable, although occasionally desirable specimens from Leh do find their +way into the Srinagar shops. +</p> + +<p> +Chinese porcelain is to be got, usually in the form of small bowls; but it is +not of remarkably good quality, and the prices asked for it are higher than in +London. +</p> + +<p> +The jewellers’ work is very far behind that of India. Amethysts of pale +colour and yellow topaz are cheap. Fine turquoise do not come into Kashmir, but +plenty of the rough stones (as well as imitations) are to be found, which, +owing to a transitory fashion, are priced far above their intrinsic value. They +come from Thibet. +</p> + +<p> +A great deal of a somewhat soft and ugly-coloured jade is sent from Yarkand, +also agates and carnelian; beads of these are strung into rather uncouth +necklets, which may be bought for half the sum first asked. +</p> + +<p> +Bargaining is an invariable necessity in all shopping in Kashmir, as everywhere +else in the East, where the market value of an article is not what it costs to +produce, but what can be squeezed for it out of the purse of +the—usually—ignorant purchaser. +</p> + +<p> +Three things are essential to the successful prosecution of shopping in +Srinagar:— +</p> + +<p> +(1) Unlimited time. +</p> + +<p> +(2) A command of emphatic language, sufficient to impress the native mind with +the need for keeping to the point. +</p> + +<p> +(3) A liver in such thorough working order as to insure an extraordinary supply +of good temper. +</p> + +<p> +Without all these attributes the acquisition of objects of “bigotry and +vertue” in Srinagar is attended with pain and tribulation. +</p> + +<p> +The descent of the river is accomplished with ease and rapidity, but +<i>revocare gradum</i> involves much hard paddling, with many pants and grunts; +and it was both cold and dark when we again lay alongside the bank of the +Chenar Bagh, and scurried up the slippery bund to the hotel, with scarcely time +to dress for dinner. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sunday, 9th April</i>.—Friday was a horrible day—rainy, dull, +and cold; but a thrill of excitement was sent through us by the news that +Walter has shot two fine bara singh! Charlotte (who is nothing if not a keen +sportswoman) was filled with zeal and the spirit of emulation, so we resolved +to dash off down the river to Bandipur, join Walter—who has now +presumably joined the ranks of the unemployed, being only permitted by the Game +Laws to kill two stags—and take our pick of the remaining +“Royals,” which, in our vivid imaginations, roamed in dense flocks +through the nullahs beyond Bandipur! +</p> + +<p> +All Friday and yesterday, therefore, were devoted to preparation. I had +already, through the kindness of Major Wigram, secured a shikari, who +immediately demonstrated his zeal and efficiency by purchasing a couple of +bloodthirsty knives and a huge bottle of Rangoon oil at my expense. I pointed +out that one “skian-dhu” seemed to me sufficient for +“gralloching” purposes, but he said two were better for bears. My +acquaintance with bears being hitherto confined to Regent’s Park, I bowed +to his superior knowledge and forethought. +</p> + +<p> +A visit to Cockburn’s agency resulted in the hire of the “boarded +dounga” <i>Cruiser</i>, which the helpful Mr. Cockburn procured for us, +in which to go down the river; also a couple of tents for ourselves with tent +furniture, one for the servants, and a cooking tent. +</p> + +<p> +The local bootmaker or “chaplie-wallah” appeared, as by magic, on +the scene, and chaplies were ordered. These consist of a sort of leather sandal +strapped over soft leather boots or moccasins. They are extremely comfortable +for walking on ordinary ground, but perfectly useless for hill work, even when +the soles are studded with nails. The hideous but necessary grass shoe is then +your only wear. The grass shoe, which is made as required by the native, is an +intricate contrivance of rice straw, kept in position by a straw twist which is +hauled taut between the big and next toe, and the end expended round some of +the side webbing. The cleft sock and woollen boot worn underneath keep the feet +warm, but do not always prevent discomfort and even much pain if the cords are +not properly adjusted. However, the remedy is simple. Tear off the shoe, using +such language as may seem appropriate to the occasion, throw it at the +shikari’s head, and order another pair to be made “ek dam”! +Jane and I each purchased a yakdan, a sort of roughly-made leather box or +trunk, strong, and of suitable size for either pony or coolie transport. Our +wardrobe was stowed in these and secured by padlocks, and the cooking gear, +together with a certain amount of stores in the shape of grocery, bread, and a +couple of bottles of whisky were safely housed in a pair of large covered +creels or “kiltas.” +</p> + +<p> +Each of the party provided him or herself with a khudstick, consisting of a +strong and tough shaft about five feet long, tapering slightly towards the +base, where it is shod with a chisel-shaped iron end. +</p> + +<p> +Our staff of retainers had now been brought up to five—the shikari, Ahmed +Bot, having procured a satellite, known as the chota shikari, a youth of not +unprepossessing appearance, but whose necessity in our scheme of existence I +had not quite determined. Ahmed Bot, however, was of opinion that all sahibs +who wanted sport required two shikaris, so I imagined that while I was to be +engaged with one in pursuit of bara singh, the other would employ himself in +“rounding up” a few tigers for the next day’s sport in +another direction. Ahmed Bot agreed with me in the main, but did not feel at +all sure about the tigers—he proposed ibex. +</p> + +<p> +The fifth wheel to our coach was a strikingly ugly person, like a hippopotamus, +whose plainness was not diminished by a pair of enormous goggles; this was the +harmless necessary sweeper, that pariah among domestics, whose usefulness is +undreamed of out of India. +</p> + +<p> +After dinner last night we left the hotel, truly thankful to shake the dust of +its gloomy precincts from our feet, and sought our boats, which were moored in +the Chenar Bagh. How snug and bright the “ship” seemed after the +murky corridors of Nedou! And yet the <i>Cruiser</i> was not much to boast of, +really, in the way of luxury. +</p> + +<p> +Let me describe a typical boarded dounga. Upon a long, low, flat-bottomed hull, +which tapered to a sharp point at bow and stern, was raised a light wooden +superstructure with a flat roof, upon which the passengers could sit. The +interior was divided off into some half-a-dozen compartments, a vestibule or +outer cabin held boxes, &c., and through it one passed into the dining or +parlour cabin, which opened again to two little bedrooms and a couple of +bathrooms. There was no furniture to speak of, but we had hired from Cockburn +all that we required for the trip. +</p> + +<p> +The servants, as well as the crew of the dounga, were all stowed in a +“tender” known as the cook boat—no one, except for navigating +duties, having any business on board the “flagship.” +</p> + +<p> +Charlotte Smithson had a smaller ship than ours—a light wooden frame, +which supported movable matting screens or curtains, taking the place of our +wooden cabins. The matted dounga looked as though it might be chilly, +particularly if a strong wind came to play among the rather draughty-looking +mats which were all that our poor friend had between her and a cold world! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap06"></a>CHAPTER VI<br/> +OUR FIRST CAMP</h2> + +<p> +The fleet, consisting of four sail (I use this word in its purely conventional +sense, a dounga having no more sails than a battleship), got under way about 5 +A.M., while it was yet but barely daylight, and so we were well clear of +Srinagar when we emerged from our cosy cabins into a world of clean air and +brilliant colour. +</p> + +<p> +The broad smooth current of the Jhelum flowed steadily and calmly through a +level plain, bearing us along at a comfortable four miles an hour, the crew +doing little more than keep steerage-way with pole and paddle. +</p> + +<p> +Beyond the green, tree-studded levels to the south, the range of the Pir Panjal +spread wide its array of dazzling peaks, while on the right towered the +mountains which enclose the Sind Valley, culminating in the square-headed mass +of Haramok. In the clear air the snows seemed quite close, although we knew +that the snow-line was really some three thousand feet above the level of the +valley. +</p> + +<p> +A day like this, as we sit on the little roof of our floating home watching the +silent river unfold its shining curves, goes far to obliterate the memory of +the fuss and worry inseparable from the exodus from Srinagar. After lunch we +tied up for a while, and I took my gun on shore to try and pick up a few of the +duck that dotted the waters of the little lakes or jheels which lay flashing +amid the hillocks beyond the river banks. The shores of these being perfectly +bare and open, it was obviously impossible to escape the keenly observant eyes +of the duck, which appeared, unlike all other birds in Kashmir, to retain their +customary wariness. +</p> + +<p> +Crouching low amid the furrows of a newly-ploughed field, I sent the shikari +with a knot of natives to the far side of the water, whence they advanced in +open line, splashing and shouting. +</p> + +<p> +Presently, with much fuss and indignant quacking, a cloud of duck rose, and, +circling after their fashion, as though reluctant to quit their resting-place, +gave me several chances of a long shot before, working high into the air, they +departed with loud expostulation to some quieter haunt. +</p> + +<p> +Later in the afternoon we tied up to the bank for the night near a large jheel, +where we all landed, Charlotte to try a rifle which she had borrowed, and I, if +possible, to slay a few more duck, while Jane sat peacefully on a bank and +enjoyed the glorious sunset. +</p> + +<p> +The bag having been swelled by the addition of another dozen +“specimens”—obtained by the same manoeuvres as +before—we strolled back to our ships in the luminous dusk, visions of +roast “canard” floating seductively before our mental vision. +</p> + +<p> +There proved to be several varieties of duck among the countless flocks which I +saw, notably mallard, teal, pochard, and shoveller. Likewise there were many +coots, while herons, disturbed in their meditations by the untoward racket, +flapped heavily away with disgusted squawks. +</p> + +<p> +Jane is getting along remarkably well with her Hindustani. I have just found +her diary, and hasten to give an extract:— +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +“Woke up very early; much bitten by pice. Tom started off to try and +shoot a burra sahib, as he hears and hopes they’ve not yet shed all their +horns.” +</p> + +<p> +“He really looked very nice in his new Pushtoo suit, with putty on his +legs and chaplains on his feet…. His chickory walked in front, carrying his +bandobast.” +</p> + +<p> +“9 A.M.—Sat down to my solitary breakfast of poached ekkas and +paysandu tonga, with excellent chuprassies (something like scones). After +breakfast, tried on my new kilta, which I have had made quite short for +walking. I generally prefer walking to being carried in a pagdandy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then took another lesson in Hindustani from my murghi, though I really +think I hardly require it! My attention a good deal distracted by the antics of +a pair of bul-buls (not at all the same as our coo-coos) in the jungle +overhead.” +</p> + +<p> +“7 P.M.—T. returned after what he called a blank blank day. He +found some bheesties (one of them a chikor ram or wild ghât) chewing the khud +on a precipitous dâk.” +</p> + +<p> +“They were rather far off, about a mile he thinks, but he couldn’t +get any nearer owing to a frightful ghari-wallah with deep piasses which lay +between, so he put up his ornithoptic sight for 2000 yards and ‘pumped +lead’ into the bheesties for half-an-hour.” +</p> + +<p> +“He says he <i>thinks</i> he hit one, but they all went away—as his +chickory remarked—‘ek dam,’ and Tom agreed with him.” +</p> + +<p> +“He fell into a budmash on his way home and was half-drowned, but the +chickory, assisted by a friendly chota-hazri, managed to pull him out … quite +an eventful day!” +</p> + +<p> +“10 P.M.—The body of the ram chikor has just been brought in. It +looks as if it had been dead for weeks, but the doolie, who found it, says that +in this climate a few hours is sufficient to obliterate a body…. Anyhow the +head and tail seem all right…. Tom says the proper thing to do is to measure +something—he can’t quite remember whether it is the horns or the +tail, but the latter seems the more remarkable, so we measured that, and found +it to be 3 feet 4 inches.” +</p> + +<p> +“By a little judicious pulling, the chickory, who knows all about +measuring things, elongated it to 4 feet 3 inches.” +</p> + +<p> +“This, he says, is a ‘<i>Record</i>’—how nice!” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +<i>Wednesday, April 12.</i>—The place where we tied up was not far from +the point where the Jhelum expands into the Wular Lake—a broad expanse of +water, some seven or eight miles wide in places, which holds the proud record +of being the largest lake in all India. +</p> + +<p> +The mountains rise steeply from its northern shores, and from their narrow +glens, squalls swift and strong are said frequently to sweep over the open +water, particularly in the afternoons. The bold sailormen of Kashmir are not +conspicuous for nautical daring—in fact their flat-bottomed arks, +top-heavy and unwieldy, destitute alike of anchor and rudder, are not fit to +cope with either wind or wave; they therefore aim at punting hurriedly across +the danger space as soon after dawn as may be—panting with exertion and +terror, they hustle across the smooth and waveless water, invoking at every +breath the protection of local saints. +</p> + +<p> +Long before we had left our beds, and blissfully unconscious of our awful +danger, we were striking out for Bandipur, which haven we safely reached about +8 A.M. on a still and glorious morning. +</p> + +<p> +Then came the business of collecting coolies and ponies, and loading them up +with the tents and lesser baggage under the direction of Sabz Ali and the +shikari. +</p> + +<p> +By nine o’clock we were off. Charlotte and Jane, mounted astride a brace +of native ponies, led the way, and, in ragged array, the rest of the procession +followed. A quarter of a mile from the landing-place, clustered at the foot of +a steep little hill—a spur from the higher ranges—lies the village +of Bandipur, dirty and picturesque, with, its rickety-looking wooden houses, +and its crowded little bazaar. It is a place of some importance in Kashmir, +being the starting-point for the Astor country and Gilgit—and here the +sahib on shikar bent, obtains coolies and ponies to take him over the Tragbal +Pass into Gurais. A post and telegraph office stands proudly in the middle of +the little village, and behind it lies a range of “godowns” filled +with stores for the use of a flying column should the British Raj require to +send troops quickly along the Gilgit road. +</p> + +<p> +Passing through into the open country, we found ourselves on a good +road—good, that is to say, for riding or marching, as no roads in Kashmir +are adapted for wheeled traffic excepting the main artery from Baramula to +Srinagar, and the greater portion of the route from Srinagar to Gulmarg. This +road we followed up a gradually narrowing valley, and over a brawling little +river, until at Kralpura the Gilgit road begins the steep ascent to the Tragbal +by a series of wide zigzags up the face of a mountain. The pass which we should +have had to tackle, had we carried out our original intention of going into +Astor for markhor and ibex, is nearly 12,000 feet above sea level, and is still +securely and implacably closed to all but the hardiest sportsmen. A short cut, +which we took up the hill face, led us through a rough scrub of berberis and +wild daphne (the former just showing green and the latter in flower) until, +somewhat scant of breath, we regained the road, and followed it to the left up +a gorge. As the mountains closed in on either side, we began to look out for +the camp, which we knew was not far up the nullah. Presently, turning off the +Gilgit road, along a track to the left, we came upon Walter—bearded like +the pard—a pard which had left off shaving for about a week. He was +pensively sitting on a big sun-warmed boulder, beguiling the time while +awaiting us by contemplating the antics of a large family of monkeys, which he +pointed out to Jane, to her great joy. +</p> + +<p> +Tender inquiries as to camp and consequent lunch revealed the sad fact that +some miles of exceedingly rough path yet lay betwixt us and the haven where we +would be. +</p> + +<p> +So we pricked forward, along a sort of cattle track, across dirty snow-filled +little gullies, and over rock-strewn slopes, until the white gleam of +Walter’s tent showed clear on its perch atop of a flat-roofed native hut. +</p> + +<p> +Crossing the stream which tumbled down the valley, by a somewhat +“wobbly” bridge, and picking our way through the mixen which forms +the approach to every well-appointed hut, we arrived upon the roof which +supported the tent. This we achieved without any undue trouble, the building, +like most “gujar” homes, being constructed on the side of a hill +sufficiently steep to obviate the necessity for any back wall—the rear of +the roof springing directly from the hillside. A Gujar village, owing to this +peculiarity of construction, always looks oddly like a deposit of great +half-open oysters clinging to the face of the hill. +</p> + +<p> +After a welcome lunch, the ladies both pronounced decidedly against remaining +in or near the highly-scented precincts of the village. The argument that there +was no flat ground excepting roofs to be seen was overruled; so Walter and I +climbed a neighbouring ridge, and selected a site on the crest. +</p> + +<p> +It was not, certainly, a very good site for a camp, as it was so narrow that +the unwary might easily step over the edge on either side, and toboggan +gracefully either back on top of the aforesaid roof, or forward into a very +rocky-bedded stream which employed its superfluous energy in tossing some +frayed and battered logs from boulder to boulder, and which would have rejoiced +greatly in doing the same to a fallen nestling from the eyry above. +</p> + +<p> +Neither was the ridge level, and our tents were pitched at such an angle that +the slumberer whose grasp of the bed-head relaxed +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“In the mist and shadow of sleep” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +was brought to wakefulness by finding his toes gently sliding out into the +nipping and eager air of night. +</p> + +<p> +The holding-ground for the tent-pegs was not all that could be desired, and +visions of our tents spreading their wings in the gale and vanishing into space +haunted us. +</p> + +<p> +No—it was not an ideal camping-ground, and Jane, whose rosy dreams of +camping in Kashmir had pictured her little white canvas home set up in a +flowery mead by the side of a purling brook, gazed upon the rugged slopes which +rose around—the cold snow gleaming through the shaggy +pine-trees—with a shiver and a distinct air of disapproval. +</p> + +<p> +It grew more than chilly too, as the sun dipped early behind the ridge that +rose jealous between us and the western light, and an icy breeze from the snow +came stealing down the gorge and whispering among the taller tree-tops in the +nullah at our feet. +</p> + +<p> +We were about 1500 feet above the Wular Lake, and snow lay in thick patches +within a few yards of our tents, and had obviously only melted quite recently +from the site of the camp, leaving more clammy mud about the place than we +really required. +</p> + +<p> +As it is reasonable to suppose that the bilingual lady who composes the fashion +columns of the <i>Daily Horror</i> is most anxious to know how the fair sex was +accoutred at our dinner party that night, I hasten to inform her that Charlotte +was gowned in an elegant confection of Puttoo of a simply indescribable nuance +of <i>crême de boue</i>—the train, extremely décolletée at the lower end, +cunningly revealing at every turn glimpses of an enchanting pair of frou-frou +putties. +</p> + +<p> +The neat bottines, <i>à la</i> Diane Chasseresse, took a charming touch of +lightness from the aluminium nails which decorated the “uppers” +with a quaint and original Dravidian cornice. +</p> + +<p> +She carried a spring bouquet of wild onions <i>en branche</i>—ornaments +(of course), diamonds. +</p> + +<p> +Every one remarked that Jane was simply too lovely for words, as, with the +sweet simplicity of an <i>ingénue, en combinaison</i> with the craft of a +Machiavella (I beg to point out that I know my Italian genders), she draped her +lissom form in the clinging folds of an enormous habit <i>de peau de +brebis</i>—portions of ear and the tip of her nose tilted over the edge +of the deep turned-up collar, which, on one side, supported the coquettish +droop of the hairy “Tammy” that, dexterously pinned to the spikes +of a diamond fender, gave a <i>clou</i> to the entire “<i>sac +d’artifice</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +Walter, having already shot two bara singh and a serow, came under the +“statute of limitations” of the Kashmir Game Laws, and had to sound +the “cease firing” as regards these animals; but Charlotte and I, +having “khubbar” of game, started at 7 A.M. in pursuit. She, +attended by Walter and in tow of Asna (the best shikari in all Kashmir), +followed up the nullah which lay to our right, while I deflected to the north. +Having donned grass shoes, I started off up a very steep slope which rose +directly behind the camp. Reaching snow within a few minutes of leaving my +tent, I was glad to find it hard and the going good, the early sun not yet +having had time to soften and destroy the crisp surface. +</p> + +<p> +Up and up we toiled, I puffing like any grampus—partly by reason of not +yet being in good condition, and partly on account of the height, which was +probably nearly 9000 feet above sea level. As we rose to the shoulder of the +hill the gradient became much easier, and I had leisure to admire the panorama +that stretched around the snowy ridge, which fell away abruptly on either side +through dense pine forests. The day was quite glorious…. The sun, blazing in a +cloudless sky, cast sharp steel-blue shadows where rock or tree stood between +the snow and his nobility. The white peaks that rose around in marvellous array +seemed so near in the bright air that it seemed as though one could see the +smallest creature moving on their distant slopes. But there was little life +observable in this still and silent world—nothing but an occasional pair +of crows flapping steadily over the woods, or a far vulture circling at a giddy +height in the “blue dome of the air.” Silence everywhere, except +for the distant and perpetual voice of many waters murmuring in the unseen +depths below. +</p> + +<p> +To the south—showing clear above the serrated back of the ridge beyond +the camp—stood the Pir Panjal; pale ivory in the pale horizon below the +sun. At the foot of the valley up which we had come yesterday, and partly +screened by the intruding buttresses of its enfolding hills, the Wular Lake lay +a shimmering shield of molten silver. +</p> + +<p> +In front, the sheeted mountains which guard Gurais and flank the icy portals of +the Tragbal stood, a series of glistening slopes and cold-crowned precipices, +while to the east Haramok reared his 17,000 feet into a threefold peak of snowy +majesty. +</p> + +<p> +It was a sight to thank God for, and to remember with joy all the days of +one’s life. Doubtless there are many views as wonderful in this lovely +land, but this was the first, and therefore not to be effaced nor its memory +dimmed by anything that may come after. +</p> + +<p> +The shikari had not climbed the mountain’s brow to waste time over +scenery; so, having apparently gone as far as he wanted on the ridge, he +plunged down among the silver firs to the right, and I, with my heart in my +mouth, went after him. At first it seemed to the inexperienced that we were +slithering down the most awful places, and that, should the snow give way, I +should have to swiftly embrace the nearest tree to avoid being shot down, a +human avalanche, farther than I cared to think. However, I soon found it was +all right. A welcome halt for lunch brought the tiffin coolie to the front. A +blanket spread upon the hard snow at the foot of a fir made an excellent seat, +and a cold roast teal, an apple, and a small flask of whisky were soon exhumed +from the basket. Water, or rather the want of it, was a difficulty, for I was +uncommonly thirsty, and no sign of any water was to be seen. A judicious +blending of the dry teal with bits of succulent apple overcame the drought, and +the half-hour for refreshment passed all too quickly. +</p> + +<p> +The men considered it now time to get up some “shikar,” so they +invented a bear. This was exciting! They had separated (there were four of +them) in search of traces of bara singh, &c., and some one found the bear, +or its den, or a lock of its wool—I really couldn’t quite ascertain +which—but fearful excitement was the immediate result. +</p> + +<p> +A consultation took place in frenzied whispers. My rifle was peeled from its +case, and we proceeded to scramble stealthily down a horribly steep face much +broken by rocks. The shikari being in front with my rifle over his shoulder, I +was favoured with frequent glimpses down its ugly black barrel as I, like Jill, +“came tumbling after,” and I rejoiced that all the cartridges were +safely stowed in my own pocket. Well! we searched like conspirators for that +bear, peeped round rocks and peered into holes, and anxiously eyed all possible +and impossible places where a bear might be supposed to reside, but there was +no bear; and at length we arrived on the bank of the torrent which rioted +noisily down the bottom of the nullah. +</p> + +<p> +I now began to realise that plunging about in snow, often over one’s +knees, and scrambling among the fallen tree-trunks and great rocks selected by +the torrent to make its bed, was distinctly tiring work! +</p> + +<p> +Presently we came to a bridge over the river. It consisted of a single log, and +appeared extremely slender. The stream was not deep enough to drown a man, but, +all the same, a slip, sending one into the foaming water among a particularly +large and hard collection of boulders, seemed most undesirable, and I stepped +across, like Agag, delicately, carefully balancing myself with a khudstick. The +men came prancing over as if they were on a good high-road, the careless ease +with which they made the passage bordering on impertinence! I reflected, +however, that sheep, and such like beasts of humble brain, can stroll upon the +brink of gruesome precipices without any fear of falling, and my self-respect +returned. +</p> + +<p> +After another half-hour of stiff scrambling I sat down to rest awhile, leaving +the men to spy the neighbourhood. Of course they had to find something, so this +time they found a “serow”—a somewhat scarce beast. I awaited +the coming of the serow at various coigns of vantage where they said it was +bound to pass, while the four men surrounded it from different directions. +Finally, like the Levite, it passed by on the other side—at least I never +saw it. The shikari afterwards informed me, in confidence, that it was, like +the inexcusable baby in <i>Peter Simple</i>, “a very little one.” +</p> + +<p> +We now made the best of our way down the nullah, and when an apology for a path +became apparent I rejoiced greatly, and followed it along its corkscrew course +until the camp came suddenly into view as we topped a spur, which gave the path +a final excuse for dragging me up a stiff two hundred feet, and then sending me +down a knee-shaking descent, for no apparent reason but pure +“cussedness.” +</p> + +<p> +Charlotte had got home just before me, having seen nothing to shoot at. She, +too, seemed anxious for tea! +</p> + +<p> +During the day Sabz Ali had been doing his level best to improve the position +in our sleeping-tent. The camp-beds had stood at such an angle that it was +almost impossible to avoid sliding gradually into the outer darkness, but S.A. +had scraped out earth from the head, and filled up a terrace at the foot, in a +way which gave us hope of sound sleep. Our things had been carefully stowed, +too, and a sort of hole scooped for the bath. Luxury stared us in the face! +</p> + +<p> +The sunset certainly was a little dull last night, but we were quite unprepared +for the dreary aspect of Dame Nature to which we awoke this morning. It was +raining very heavily, and a dense pall of mist hung low among the pines, giving +an impression of melancholy durability. +</p> + +<p> +There was obviously nothing to do but exist as cheerfully as might be until the +weather improved. The wet had shrunk canvas and rope gear till the tent-guys +were as taut as fiddle-strings; and as it did not seem to have occurred to any +of the servants to attend to this, an immediate tour of the camp had to be +undertaken, in “rubbers” and waterproofs, to slack off guys and +inspect the drainage system, as we had no wish to have our earthen +floor—already sufficiently cold and clammy—turned into an absolute +swamp. +</p> + +<p> +These things done, we scuttled and slid down to the mess tent, and breakfasted +as best we might; and the best was surprisingly good, considering the +difficulties the wretched servants must have had in cooking anything in their +wet lair, where the miserable fire of damp sticks produced apparently little +but acrid smoke. +</p> + +<p> +We passed a dismal day, as, wrapped in our warmest clothes, we sat upon our +beds watching the rain turn to snow, then to hail and sleet, and finally back +to rain again; while the ever-changing wisps of grey mist gathered thick in the +glens, or “put forth an arm and crept from pine to pine.” +</p> + +<p> +Towards evening the clouds broke a little, and the forest-clad steeps appeared +through them, powdered thickly with new snow. Walter and I sallied forth from +our sodden tents and held a council of war in the mud. It was decided to quit +our somewhat unsatisfactory and precarious position early to-morrow, if fine, +as the weather looked so nasty, and a squall of wind might have awkward +consequences. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Friday, April</i> 14.—A very fairly fine morning enabled us to strike +camp yesterday, and get the baggage off in good time. The Smithsons decided to +make for the jheels near the river, in order to give the duck a final worry +round before the season closes on the 15th. +</p> + +<p> +My shikari having reported a good bara singh in a small nullah off the Erin, I +arranged to go in search of him. The march down to Bandipur was a short and +easy one, and we got comfortably settled on board our boats early in the +afternoon. About sunset the clouds gathered thick over the hills which we had +left, and a thunderstorm broke, its preliminary squall throwing the crews of +our fleet into a fearful fuss, and sending them on to the bank with extra ropes +and holdfasts to make all secure. An elderly lady, with a dirty red cap and +very untidy ringlets, superintended the business with much clamour. We take her +to be the wife or grandmother (not sure which) of the skipper. +</p> + +<p> +It was with an undoubted sense of solid comfort that we lay in our cosy beds +under a wooden roof, whereon the fat rain-drops sputtered, while the thunder +still crackled and banged in the distance! +</p> + +<p> +We shifted before dawn to a small village a couple of miles to the east, and at +6.30 Jane and I set out to attack the bara singh, of which the shikari held out +high hope. My wife, mounted on a rough pony, was able to accomplish with great +comfort the two miles of flat country which we had to traverse before turning +off sharp to the right along a track which led steeply upwards through the +scrub that clothed the lower part of the nullah. +</p> + +<p> +There is something unusually charming in the dawn here—the crisp, buoyant +air, the silent hills, their lower slopes and corries still a purple mystery; +on high, the silver peaks—looking ridiculously close—change swiftly +from their cold pallor into rosy life at the first touch of the risen sun. +</p> + +<p> +The first part of our day’s work was easy enough. The sun was still +hidden from us behind the mountain flange on our left; the snow patches on the +sky-line ahead seemed comparatively near, and the diabolical swiftness of the +shikari’s stealthy walk was yet to be fully realised. +</p> + +<p> +Up and up we went, first through a thick scrub or jungle of a highly prickly +description, over a few small streams, then out upon a grassy ridge, up which +we slowly panted. The gradient became sharper, and I began to feel a little +anxious about Jane, as the short, brown grass was slippery with frost—a +slip would be very easy, and the results unpleasant. However, with the able +assistance of the shikari, she did very well, and, having crossed a shelving +patch of snow by cutting steps with our khudstick, we found ourselves, after an +hour and a half’s stiff climbing, on the sky-line of the ridge that had +seemed but an easy stroll from below. The heights and distances are most +deceptive, partly on account of the crystal clearness of the air, and partly +because of the magnitude of everything in proportion. The mountains are not +only high themselves, but their spurs and foothills would rank as able-bodied +mountains were they not dwarfed by peaks which average 15,000 feet in height +above the sea. The pines which clothe their sides, the chenars and poplars in +the valley, are all enormous when compared with their European cousins. +</p> + +<p> +The view was most remarkable as we gained the crest of the ridge—a sea of +white cloud came boiling up from the valley to the east, and, pouring over the +saddle upon which we stood, gave only occasional glimpses of snow and pine and +precipice above, or the glint of water in the rice-fields far below. Once, +between the swirling cloud masses, the near hills lay clear in the sunshine for +a few moments and revealed a party of five bara singh hinds, crossing the slope +in front of us, and not more than 150 yards away. Alas! there was no stag. +</p> + +<p> +This was not satisfactory weather for stalking. However I was hopeful, as I +have noticed that in the fine forenoons a thick white belt of cloud often forms +about the snow level—roughly, some 8000 feet above the sea, or 3000 above +the Wular Lake—and hangs there for an hour or two, to disappear entirely +by midday. And so it came about to-day; after a halt for tiffin, I set forward +in brilliant sunshine, while Jane remained quietly perched on the hillside, as +the shikari said the road was not good for a lady. The shikari was right, as, +within ten minutes of starting, we had to drop from the crest of the ridge to +circumvent a big rock which barred our way, to find ourselves confronted by a +very unpleasant-looking slope of short brown grass, which fell away at an angle +of about 50° to what seemed an endless depth. This grass, having only just +become emancipated from its winter snow, had all its hair—so to +speak—brushed straight down, and there was mighty little stuff to hold on +to! Carefully digging little holes with our khudsticks, and not disdaining the +help of my shikari, I got across, and thankfully scrambled back to the safety +of the ridge. +</p> + +<p> +Now we reached snow, and the going became easier, whereupon Ahmed Bot promptly +set a pace which left me struggling far behind. As the sun grew stronger the +surface-crust of the snow became soft, and at every few steps one went through +to the knees, until both muscles and temper became sorely tried. For an hour or +so we kept climbing up what was evidently one of the many steep and rugged +ranges which, radiating from Haramok, on this side flank the Wular with their +lofty bastions. Having apparently attained the height he deemed necessary, and +got well above the part of the pine forest in which he expected to find game, +Ahmed Bot turned to the left of the ridge, and we were immediately involved in +the deep drifts which covered the pine-clad slope of the nullah. Over +snow-covered trunks of prostrate trees, over hidden holes and broken rocks, we +toiled and scrambled until, emerging breathless on a bare knoll—smooth +and white as a great wedding-cake—we obtained a searching view into the +neighbouring gullies. Still no sign or track of any “beast,” so we +worked back until, tired and hot, I regained the place where Madame lay basking +beneath her sunshade. The shikari and his myrmidons departed to +“look” another bit of country, while I, nothing loth, remained to +await events in the neighbourhood of the refreshment department. +</p> + +<p> +On the return of the men, who had of course seen nothing, we set off for home, +climbing down the edge of the ridge where yellow colchicum starred the turf. It +was steep—verging on the precipitous in places—and Jane frankly +expressed her satisfaction when we accomplished the worst part and entered a +dense jungle of scrubby bushes, all of which seemed to grow spines of sorts. A +bear was said to have been seen here yesterday, so we kept our weather eyelids +lifting, but were not favoured with a sight of him. We had almost gained the +bottom of the hill, with but two short miles to dinner and a tub, when weird +shrieks and whistles were exchanged between our people and an excited villager +below. The shikari, his eyes gleaming with uncontrollable excitement, announced +that the “big stag” was waiting for me at that very +moment!—and therewith Ahmed Bot dashed off down the hill, leaving me to +follow as best I might. Leaving my wife in charge of the tiffin coolie, I +tumbled off after the shikari, whom I found gloating with the messenger over +the inspiriting particulars of the monarch of the glen, which, I understood, +crouched expectant some paltry 2000 feet above us, near the top of the nullah! +</p> + +<p> +It was past six o’clock, and the light already showing signs of waning, +so we lost no time in attacking the hill again. I was pretty well +“done,” and had to accept a tow from the shikari, and hand in hand +we pressed up that accursed hill until, at seven o’clock, the sun set and +it began to grow dusk. Lying down near the edge of the snow, to gain breath and +let the shikari crawl round and “look” the face of the hill, I was +soon moved to activity by the news that the stag was lying under a pine tree +within a few hundred yards. A short “crawl” brought me within sight +of the beast, who lay half-hidden by a rock. It was now so dark that even with +my glasses I could only make sure that it was a “horn beast” and +not a hind; there was no time to lose, so, putting up my sight for 150 yards, I +let him have it, and was nearly as much surprised as gratified to see him roll +out on the snow to the shot. My vexation and disgust may be imagined when I +found the noble beast to be a miserable 8-pointer, which I would never have +fired at if I could have seen its head properly. Heartily consigning the +shikari, together with the mendacious villager and all his kind, to a hot +place, I dolefully stumbled away downhill again in the gathering dark, and +finally deposited my weary and dejected self on board the boat, after fourteen +hours of the hardest walking I have ever done. +</p> + +<p> +There is a confused tale prevalent that the bear, taking a mean advantage of my +absence, has been down to the village and eaten a few ponies, or frightened +them—I can’t make out which. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap07"></a>CHAPTER VII<br/> +BACK TO SRINAGAR</h2> + +<p> +Easter Day, <i>April</i> 23.—We left the Erin district early in the +morning following the bara singh fiasco, and punted and poled up the river to +join the Smithsons in a last attack upon the duck. We found the bold Colonel, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Rough with slaughter and red with fight,” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +enjoying himself hugely among the jheels, and we prepared to join in the fray; +but our <i>chasse</i> was put an end to by the discovery that the 14th, and not +the 15th, was the last legal day for shooting. So we packed away our guns and +towed up to Srinagar, which we reached on Sunday afternoon. +</p> + +<p> +Our brief experience of camping and “shikar” had proved to my wife +that she was not cast in the heroic mould of a female Nimrod. Not being a shot +herself—as Charlotte is—she saw that, as far as she was concerned, +a shooting expedition with the Smithsons would entail a great deal of solitary +rumination in camp, while the rest of the party pursued the red bear to his +den, or chased the nimble markhor up and down the precipices. The joys of +reading, knitting, and washing the family clothes might—probably +would—pall after a time; and the physical exertion of “walking with +the guns” in Kashmir is decidedly more of an undertaking than over a +Perthshire grouse moor! Our original arrangement, before coming out to join the +Smithsons, was that the time should be spent in camping, boating, +“loafing,” and shooting. Being perfectly ignorant of the conditions +of life out here, we were unaware of the fact that it is practically impossible +to combine serious shooting with any other form of amusement. In Scotland one +may stalk one day, fish the next, and golf the third, but out here it is not +so. The worshipper of Diana must be prepared to sacrifice everything else at +her shrine; he must go far afield, and be prepared to live hard and work hard, +and even then it may befall that his trophies of the chase are none too +plentiful. That will depend a good deal on his shikari and his own knowledge, +together with luck. +</p> + +<p> +Walter had the good fortune to come upon two fine stags not far from his camp +almost as soon as he got there. He was within fifty yards of them as they were +moving slowly in deep snow, and he killed them both; the best of these was a +remarkably fine 10-pointer, length of horn 41 inches and span 38-1/2 inches. +His wife spent an equal time in the same neighbourhood and never saw +anything.[1] +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[1] That lady subsequently killed a remarkably good 13-pointer bara singh and +some bears in October. +</p> + +<p> +When we talked over plans with Colonel and Mrs. Smithson at Pindi, the general +idea had crystallised into a scheme for going into Astor to shoot, immediately +upon our arrival in Kashmir, and, in order to reach Srinagar before April +1st—the date of issue of shooting passes—we had struggled hard to +make our way into the country before it was really attractive to the ordinary +visitor. +</p> + +<p> +When we did reach Srinagar we found that our friends had abandoned all idea of +an expedition to Astor, partly on account of expense, but principally on +account of the backwardness of the season, which practically precluded ladies +from crossing the Tragbal and Boorzil Passes for some time. The merits and +demerits of the Tilail district and Baltistan came up for review, and then we +almost decided to go to Leh until we reflected that the return journey over a +bare and open country—arid and hot as an Egyptian desert—in the +month of August might not be unmixed joy, and the Smithsons were assured that +they would find no sport whatever <i>en route</i>, but would have to go several +marches beyond Leh to obtain the chance of an Ovis Ammon or Thibetan antelope. +</p> + +<p> +The Leh scheme thus having come to naught, and our friends being still wholly +intent on “shikar” to the exclusion of all other pursuits, we +decided to be independent, so we hired a nice-looking boarded dounga, whose +fresh and clean appearance pleased us, for a term of three months. +Nedou’s Hotel offered so few attractions and so many drawbacks that we +were prepared to do anything rather than return to it, and, as a matter of +economy, we scored heavily, as, on working it out, we found that the boat, +including the cook-boat, would cost 60 rupees per month. Our food and the wages +of those servants whom we should not have required at the hotel came to +approximately 80 rupees per month, making a total of 140 rupees, or £9, 6s. +8d.; whereas our hotel bill would have come to 12 rupees per day, without +extras—or 360 rupees (£24) per month—a clear saving in money as +well as in comfort. +</p> + +<p> +Our new habitation—the house dounga <i>Moon</i>—was owned and +partly worked by Satarah, an astute old rascal, whose “tawny +beard,” like Hudibras’— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Was the equal grace<br/> +Both of his wisdom and his face;<br/> +In cut and dye so like a tyle<br/> +A sudden view it would beguile:<br/> +The upper part whereof was whey,<br/> +The nether orange mixt with grey.” +</p> + +<p> +His costume consisted of a curious sort of short nightgown worn over white and +flappy trousers, below which were revealed a pair of big, flat naval feet. The +first lieutenant, Sabhana—sleek and civil-spoken, but desperately afraid +of work—was, we understand, son-in-law to the Admiral Satarah, having to +wife the Lady Jiggry, eldest daughter of that worthy, who, with her younger +sisters Nouri, Azizi, and “the Baba,” completed the ship’s +company. +</p> + +<p> +The <i>Moon</i> differed from an ordinary house-boat in being narrower, and +possessing a long bow and stern which projected far enough from the body of the +boat to enable men to pole or paddle with ease; a house-boat can only be towed. +On embarking by means of a narrow gangway—a plank possessed of an +uncontrollable desire to “tip-up” at unexpected and disconcerting +moments—one entered first a small vestibule, or “ante-cabin,” +which held our big boxes and opened into the drawing-room—quite a roomy +apartment, about fifteen feet by ten feet, fitted with a fireplace, a rough +writing-table, and overmantel, surmounted by a photograph—something +faded—of Mrs. Langtry! A small table and a couple of deck chairs graced +the floor, while upon the walls a heterogeneous collection of pictures, +including a coloured lithograph of a cottage and a brook, a fearful and +wonderful portrayal of an otter, and a very fancy stag of unlimited points +dazzled the eye. The ceiling was decorated with an elaborate and most effective +design in wood—a fashion very common in Srinagar, consisting of a sort of +patchwork panelling of small pieces of wood, cut to length and shape, and +tacked on to a backing in geometrical designs. At a little distance the effect +is rich and excellent, but close inspection shows up the tintacks and the glue, +and a prying finger penetrates the solid-looking panel with perfect ease. +</p> + +<p> +The drawing-room was separated from the dining “saloon” by a +sliding door—which frequently refused to slide at all, or else perversely +slid so suddenly as to endanger finger-tips and cause unseemly words to flow. +This noble apartment of elegant dimensions (to borrow the undefiled English of +the house-agent) could contain four feasters at a pinch. Sabz Ali having cooked +the dinner, the cook-boat was laid alongside, and Sabz Ali, clambering in and +out of the window, proceeded to serve the repast, a black paw, presumably +belonging to Ayata, the kitchenmaid-man, appearing from time to time to +retrieve the soiled plates or hand up the next course. +</p> + +<p> +A funny little sideboard and cupboard contained a slender stock of knives, +forks, and glasses, and part of a broken-down dinner set, while the fireplace +easily held three dozen of soda-water. +</p> + +<p> +Then came Jane’s bedroom, fitted with a cupboard and shelves, which were +a constant source of covetousness to me, who had none. A small bathroom +completed our suite of apartments, and, after the bare boards of the +<i>Cruiser</i>, the <i>Moon</i> seemed to overflow with luxury. +</p> + +<p> +We have been taking life easily here for the last week. The Smithsons intend +going into Tilail as soon as the Tragbal becomes feasible; we propose to remain +in Srinagar for a while. The weather has not been very fine—cold winds +and a good deal of rain, varied by thunderstorms, being our daily experience. +The spring is, I am told, exceptionally backward, and, although the almond is +in full and lovely flower, the poplars and chenars are barely showing a sign of +life. +</p> + +<p> +My wife having gone to lunch at the Residency this afternoon, I walked half-way +up the Takht-i-Suleiman, whose sharp, rock-strewn pyramid rises a thousand feet +above Srinagar. +</p> + +<p> +The view of the Kashmir plain, through which the river winds like a silver +snake; the solemn ring of mountains, enclosing the valley with a rampart of +rock and snow; the innumerable roofs of the city, glittering like burnished +scales in the keen sunlight, densely clustered round the fort-crowned height of +Hari Parbat, went to make up such a picture as Turner would have kneeled to. +</p> + +<p> +Of course it is simply futile to compare one magnificent view with another +which differs entirely in kind. All that one can do is to lay by in the memory +a mental picture-gallery of recollection; and as I sat in the shelter of a big +rock, gazing out over the level plain stretching below, where the changing +shadows as they swept by turned the amber masses of the trees to gold, I +conjured up in my mind’s eye other scenes whose beauties will remain with +me while life shall last:—The purple and gold of a glorious sunset over +Etna, the Greek theatre of Taormina in front of me, with the sea below—a +shimmering opal that melted away in the haze beyond Syracuse; the awful rapids +raging furiously below Niagara, a very ocean tortured and maddened to blind +fury, pouring its irresistible torrents through the chasm above the whirlpool; +and again, a cloudless October morning, with just the keen zest of early autumn +in the air, as I lay high up on a hillside in Ardgour watching for +deer—with the hills of Lochaber and Ballachulish reflected in all their +glory of purple and russet in the waters of Loch Linnhe, windless and still! +</p> + +<p> +Chills can be caught amidst the most glorious scenery—the little tufts of +purple self-heal at my feet were shivering and shaking in a biting breeze that +swept down from the snows to the north-east, and although I am an admirer of +Kingsley, I do not hold with him in his wrong-headed admiration for a +“nor’-easter”—so I quitted my perch in search of tea. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Easter Monday</i>.—The Smithsons scuttled away in a great hurry +to-day, their shikari, Asna (the best shikari in Kashmir), having heard that, +owing to the lateness of the season, the bara singh have not even yet all shed +their horns—so Charlotte is filled with high hope. The bears, too, are +said to be waking from their winter’s doze and poking around in warm and +balmy corners. +</p> + +<p> +Armed to the teeth and thirsting for blood, the hunter and the huntress cast +loose their matted dounga and paddled away merrily down the Jhelum to Bandipur, +thence to pursue the royal bara singh, and later, if possible, scale the +snow-barred slopes of the Tragbal and penetrate the lonely Tilail Valley to +assail the red bear and the multitudinous ibex. +</p> + +<p> +Jane and I having decided that a purely shikar expedition into the more +difficult parts of the country was not suited to our prosaic habits, remained +to enjoy the effeminate pleasures of Srinagar till the weather should grow a +few degrees warmer. +</p> + +<p> +As we are bidden to a sort of state luncheon to-morrow, given by the Maharajah, +it appeared to me to be but right and seemly to go and inscribe my name in the +visitors’ book of His Highness, and also to call upon his brother, the +Rajah Sir Amar Singh. I went with the more alacrity as I thought it might prove +interesting. Strolling across the big bridge above the Palace, I soon found +myself in the purely native quarter, immersed in a seething crowd of men and +beasts, from beneath whose passing feet a cloud of dust rose pungent. The +water-sellers, the hawkers of vegetables and of sweets, the cattle, the loafers +and the children got into the way and out of it in kaleidoscopic confusion. By +the side of the street, money-changers, wrapped in silent consideration, bent +over their trays of queer and outlandish coins. Bright cottons and silks +flaunted pennons of gorgeous colours. Brass, glowing like gold, rose piled on +low wide counters. In front stood the Palace, looking its best from this point, +and showing huge beside the huddle of wooden and plaster huts which hem it in. +</p> + +<p> +General Raja Sir Amar Singh lives in a sort of glorified English villa. Were it +not for the flowering oleanders and hibiscus in front and the silvery gleam of +temple domes beyond, one might suppose oneself near the banks of Father Thames. +And were it not for the group of stalwart retainers at the door, the illusion +need not be lost on entering the house. +</p> + +<p> +The hall and staircase were decorated with a profusion of skins and horns, +somewhat modern and brilliant rugs, and tall glasses full of flowers closely +copied from Nature; while the drawing-room was of a type very frequently seen +near London. +</p> + +<p> +Like so many British reception-rooms, it shone replete with <i>objets +d’art</i>, rather inclining to Oriental luxury than Japanese restraint. +</p> + +<p> +My host, who came in almost immediately, was charming, speaking English with +fluency, although he has never been in England. +</p> + +<p> +He is essentially a strong man, and remarkably well posted in everything, both +political and social, that occurs in the state, mixing far more freely than his +brother with the English, towards whom his courtesy is proverbial. +</p> + +<p> +His elder brother, the Maharajah of Jammu and Kashmir, is in many respects of a +different type. Keeping more aloof from the English colony, he spends much of +his time in devotion and the privacy of the inner Palace. +</p> + +<p> +On leaving Sir Amar Singh, one of his henchmen conducted me across the iron +bridge spanning a cut from the Jhelum, and into the warren-like precincts of +the Palace; presently we emerged from an obscure passage, and found ourselves +at the “front door,” where, in the visitors’ book, by means +of the stumpy pencil attached thereto, I inscribed my name and condition. +</p> + +<p> +<i>April</i> 27.—His Highness the Maharajah having invited us to a +luncheon given by him in honour of Colonel Pears, the new Resident, we prepared +to cross the famous Dal Lake to the Nishat Bagh, the scene of the present +feast, which we fondly hoped might recall the glorious days of the Moguls when +Jehangir dallied in the historic Shalimar with the fair Nourmahal. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Th’ Imperial Selim held a feast<br/> +In his magnificent Shalimar:—<br/> +In whose saloons …<br/> +The valleys’ loveliest all assembled.” +</p> + +<p> +Our shikara, a sort of canoe paddled by four active fellows, with the stern, +where we sat on cushions, carefully screened from the sun by an awning, was +brought alongside the dounga at about 11.30, as we had some seven or eight +miles to accomplish before reaching the Nishat Bagh. +</p> + +<p> +Leaving the main river just above the Club, we paddled down the Sunt-i-kul +Canal, which runs between the European quarter and the Takht-i-Suleiman, the +rough brown hill which, crowned with its temple, forms a constant background to +Srinagar. +</p> + +<p> +The canal was closely lined with house-boats and their satellite cook-boats, +clinging to the poplar-shaded banks. The golf-links lay on our left, and on a +low spur to the right stood the hospital, which the energy and philanthropy of +the Neves has gained for the remarkably ungrateful Kashmiri. It is told that a +man, being exceedingly ill, was cared for and nursed during many weeks in the +Mission Hospital, his whole family likewise living on the kindly sahibs. When +he was cured and shown the door, he burst into tears because he was not paid +wages for all the time he had spent in hospital! +</p> + +<p> +Just before entering the waterway of noble chenars, known as the Chenar Bagh (a +camping-ground reserved for bachelors only), we ported our helm (or at least +would have done so had there been any rudders in Kashmir), and pushed through +the lock-gate, which gives entrance to the Dal Lake, against a brisk current. +</p> + +<p> +This gate, cunningly arranged upon the non-return-valve principle, is normally +kept open by the current from the Dal; but if the Jhelum, rising in flood, +threatens to pour back into the lake and swamp the low ground and floating +gardens, it closes automatically, and so remains sealed until the outward flow +regains the mastery. +</p> + +<p> +A sharp bout of paddling, puffing, and splashing shot us into the peaceful +waters of the Dal Lake, over which every traveller has gushed and raved. It is +difficult, indeed, not to do so, for it is truly a dream of beauty. +</p> + +<p> +A placid sheet of still water, its surface only broken here and there by the +silvery trails of rippled wake left by the darting shikaras or slow-moving +market boats, lay before us, shining in the crystal-clear atmosphere. On the +right rose the Takht, his thousand feet of rocky stature dwarfed into +insignificance by holy Mahadeo and his peers, whose shattered peaks ring round +the lake to the north, their dark cliffs and shaggy steeps mirrored in its +peaceful surface. +</p> + +<p> +On the lower slopes strong patches of yellow mustard and white masses of +blossoming pear-trees rose behind the tender green fringe of the young willows. +</p> + +<p> +As we swept on, the lake widened. On the left a network of water lanes threaded +the maze of low-growing brushwood and whispering reeds, and round us extended +the half-submerged patches of soil which form the celebrated “floating +gardens” of the lake. From any point of view except the utilitarian, +these gardens are a fraud. A combination of matted and decaying water-plants, +mud, and young cabbages kept in place by rows and thickets of willow scrub, is +curious, but not lovely; and our eyes turned away to where Hari Parbat raised +his crown of crumbling forts above the native city, or to the mysterious ruins +of Peri Mahal, clinging like a swallow’s nest to the shelving slopes +above Gupkar. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Still onward; and the clear canal<br/> +Is rounded to as clear a lake;” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +and we emerged from the willow-fringed water lanes, and saw across the wider +shield of glistering water the white cube of the Nishat Bagh Pavilion—the +Garden of Joy, made for Jehangir the Mogul—standing by the water’s +edge, and at its foot a great throng and clutter of boats, amidst whose snaky +prows we pushed our way and landed, something stiff after sitting for two hours +in a cramped shikara. +</p> + +<p> +Other guests—some thirty in all—were arriving, either like us by +boat, or by carriage <i>viâ</i> Gupkar, and we strolled in groups up the +sloping gardens, which still show, in their wild and unrestrained beauty, the +loving touch of the long-vanished hand of the Mogul. +</p> + +<p> +Down seven wide grassy terraces a series of fountains splashed and twinkled in +the sun. Broad chenars, just beginning to break into leaf, gave promise of +ample shade against the day when the blaze should become overpowering. So far +so good, but the grass that bordered the path was not the sweet green turf of +an English lawn, and the way was edged by big earthen pots, into which were +hastily stuck wisps of iris blooms and Persian lilac. The topmost terrace +widened out, enclosing a large basin of clear water, in the middle of which +played a fountain. On one side was raised a marquee, revealing welcome +preparations for lunch. On the opposite side of the fountain a profusion of +chairs, shaded by a great awning, stood expectantly facing a bandstand. Here we +were welcomed by His Highness, a somewhat small man with exceedingly neat legs +and an enormous white pugaree, in his customary gracious manner. +</p> + +<p> +It was now half-past two, and we had breakfasted early, so that a move towards +the luncheon tent was most welcome. Finding the fair lady whom I was detailed +to personally conduct, and the ticketed place where I was to sit, I prepared to +make a Gargantuan meal. Was it not almost on this very spot that +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“The board was spread with fruit and wine,<br/> +With grapes of gold, like those that shine<br/> +On Casbin’s hills;—pomegranates full<br/> + Of melting sweetness, and the pears<br/> +And sunniest apples that Cabul<br/> + In all its thousand gardens bears.<br/> +Plantains, the golden and the green,<br/> +Malaya’s nectar’d mangusteen;<br/> +Prunes of Bokara, and sweet nuts<br/> + From the far groves of Samarcand,<br/> +And Basra dates, and apricots,<br/> + Seed of the sun, from Iran’s land;—<br/> +With rich conserve of Visna cherries,<br/> +Of orange flowers, and of those berries<br/> +That, wild and fresh, the young gazelles<br/> +Feed on in Erac’s rocky dells..<br/> +Wines, too, of every clime and hue<br/> +Around their liquid lustre threw;<br/> +Amber Rosolli..<br/> +And Shiraz wine, that richly ran..<br/> +Melted within the goblets there!” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +This reckless, but unsubstantial and very unwholesome meal, was not for us, and +while waiting patiently for the first course to appear, I glanced down the long +table to admire the decorations. They were delightful, consisting of glass +flower-vases spaced regularly along the festive board, and filled to +overflowing with tufts and clumps of flowers. Innumerable plates filled with +fruit and sweetmeats graced the feast, and a magnificent array of knives and +forks gave promise of good things to come. +</p> + +<p> +Presently the expected dainties arrived, resembling but little the +lately-described poetic feast; a strict attention to business enabled us to +keep the wolf from the door, and a very cheerful party finally emerged from the +big tent to stroll by the fountains that flashed under the chenars. +</p> + +<p> +The Maharajah, of course, did not lunch with us, but held aloof, peeping +occasionally into the cook-house to satisfy himself that the lions were being +fed properly, and in accordance with their unclean customs. +</p> + +<p> +Finally, he and his chief officers of state vanished into a secluded tent, +where he probably took a little refreshment, having first carefully performed +the ablutions necessary after the contamination of the unbeliever. +</p> + +<p> +His Highness reappeared from nowhere in particular as his guests strolled +across the terrace, and, after a little polite conversation, we took our leave +and set forth for Srinagar. +</p> + +<p> +It was a glorious afternoon, and we deeply regretted that time would not permit +us to visit the neighbouring Shalimar Bagh, which lay hidden among the trees +near by. The excursion must remain a “hope deferred” for the +present, as we had again to thread the maze of half-submerged melon plots and +miniature kitchen gardens which, even in the golden glow of a perfect evening, +could not be made to fit in with our preconceived ideas of “floating +gardens.” Jane was frankly disappointed, as she admitted to having +pictured in her mind’s eye a series of peripatetic herbaceous borders in +full flower, cruising about the lake at their own sweet will and tended by fair +Kashmirian maidens. +</p> + +<p> +By-the-bye, here let me expose, once for all, the fallacy of Moore’s +drivel about the lovely maids of fair “Cashmere.” <i>There are +none!</i> This appears a startling statement and a sweeping; but, as a matter +of fact, the Eastern girl is not left, like her Western sister, to flirt and +frivol into middle age in single “cussedness,” but almost +invariably becomes a respectable married lady at ten or twelve, and drapes her +lovely, but not over clean, head in the mantle of old sacking, which it is +<i>de rigueur</i> for matrons to adopt. +</p> + +<p> +The good Tommy Moore did not know this, but, letting his warm Irish imagination +run riot through a mixed bag of Eastern romancists and their works, he evolved, +amid a <i>pôt pourri</i> of impossibilities, an impossible damsel as unlike +anything to be found in these parts as the celebrated elephant evolved from his +inner consciousness by the German professor! +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +As I traversed the main, or rolled by train,<br/> + From my Western habitation,<br/> +I frequently thought—perhaps more than I ought—<br/> + Upon many a quiet occasion<br/> +Of the elegant forms and manifold charms<br/> + Of the beautiful female Asian.<br/> +<br/> +For the good Tommy Moore, in his pages of yore,<br/> + Sang as though he could never be weary<br/> +Of fair Nourmahal—an adorable “gal”—<br/> + And of Paradise and the Peri,<br/> +Until, I declare, I was wild to be where<br/> + I might gaze on the lovely Kashmiri.<br/> +<br/> +Through the hot plains of Ind I fled like the wind,<br/> + Unenchanted by mistress or ayah,<br/> +The dusky Hindu, I soon saw, wouldn’t do,<br/> + So I paused not, until in the sky——Ah!—<br/> +Far upward arose the perpetual snows<br/> + And the peaks of the proud Himalaya.<br/> +<br/> +But in Kashmir, alas! I found not a lass<br/> + Who answered to Tommy’s description—<br/> +For the make of such maid I am sadly afraid<br/> + The fond parents have lost the prescription,<br/> +And I murmured; “No doubt, the old breed has died out,<br/> + At least such is my honest conviction.”<br/> +<br/> +In the horrible slums which form the foul homes<br/> + Of the rag-covered dames of the city,<br/> +I saw wrinkled hags, all wrapped in old rags,<br/> + Whose appearance excited but pity.<br/> +Beyond question the word which it would be absurd<br/> + To apply to these ladies is “pretty.”<br/> +<br/> +In the high Gujar huts were but brats and old sluts,<br/> + These last being the plainest of women;<br/> +Then I sought on the waters the sisters and daughters<br/> + Of the Mangis—those “bold, able seamen”<br/> +(I have often been told that the Mangi is bold,<br/> + And as brave as at least two or three men).<br/> +<br/> +One lady I saw—I am told her papa<br/> + In the market did forage and “gram” sell—<br/> +Decked all over with rings, necklets, bangles and things,<br/> + She appeared a desirable damsel;<br/> +And I cried “Oh, Eureka! I’ve found what I seek:<br/> + Tell me quick—Is she ‘madam’ or +‘ma’mselle’?”<br/> +<br/> +It was comical, but to this question I put—<br/> + A remarkably innocent query—<br/> +I received but a sigh or evasive reply,<br/> + Or a blush from the modest Kashmiri;<br/> +And I gathered at last that the lady was “fast,”<br/> + And her name should be Phryne, not Heré.<br/> +<br/> +Toddled up a small tot—her hair tied in a knot—<br/> + Who remarked, “I can hardly consider<br/> +You’ve the ghost of a chance on this wild-goosie dance<br/> + Unless you should hap on a ‘widder!’<br/> +For our maidens at ten—ay, and less now and then—<br/> + Are all booked to the wealthiest bidder.”<br/> +<br/> +“My dear man, it’s no use to indulge in abuse<br/> + Of our customs, so be not enraged, sir—<br/> +No woman a maid is—we’re all married ladies.<br/> + Our charms very early are caged, sir—<br/> +I’m eleven myself,” remarked the small elf,<br/> + “And a year ago I was engaged, sir!” +</p> + +<p> +Ah, well! The country is the loveliest I ever saw, and that goes far to make up +for its disgusting population. +</p> + +<p> +Here, indeed, it is that +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Every prospect pleases, and only man is vile.” +</p> + +<p> +We stopped to look at the ruins of an ancient mosque, built in the days of +Akbar by the Shiahs. Its remains may be deeply interesting to the +archaeologist, but to me a neighbouring ziarat, wooden, with its grassy roof +one blaze of scarlet tulips, was far more attractive. Moving homeward, we +floated under a lovely old bridge, whose three rose-toned arches date from the +sixteenth century—the age of the Great Moguls. The extreme solidity of +its piers contrasts strongly with the exceedingly sketchy (and sketchable) +bridges manufactured by the Kashmiri. +</p> + +<p> +In fairness, though, I must point out that, as the bridge in Kashmir usually +spans a stream liable at almost any moment to overwhelming floods, it would +appear to be a sound idea to build as flimsily as possible, with an eye to +economical replacement. +</p> + +<p> +The Kashmiri carries this plan to its logical conclusion when he fells a tree +across a raging torrent, and calls it a bridge, to the unutterable discomfiture +of the Western wayfarer. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap08"></a>CHAPTER VIII<br/> +THE LOLAB</h2> + +<p> +<i>May</i> 1.—The pear and cherry blossom has been so lovely in and +around Srinagar that we determined to go to the Lolab Valley and see the apple +blossom in full flower. +</p> + +<p> +We started in some trepidation, for the warm weather lately has melted much +snow on the hills, and Jhelum is so full that we were told that our +three-decker would be unable to pass under the city bridges—of which +there are seven. We decided to see for ourselves, so set forth about eleven, +and soon came to the first bridge, the Amira Kadal, which carries the main +tonga road into Srinagar, tying up just above it, amid the clamour and jabber +of an idle crowd. +</p> + +<p> +The Admiral solemnly measured the clear space between the top of the arch and +the water with a long pole, consulted noisily with the crowd, yelled his ideas +to the crew, and decided to attempt the passage. +</p> + +<p> +Hen-coops, chairs, half-a-dozen flower-pots containing sickly specimens of +plants, and all other movables being cleared from the upper deck, we set sail, +and shot the bridge very neatly, only having a few inches of daylight between +the upper deck and the wooden beams upon which the roadway rests. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Ce nest que, le premier “pont” que coute</i>. +</p> + +<p> +The other bridges were all easier than the first, and we shot them gaily, +spending the rest of the day in floating quietly down the river, and finally +anchoring—or rather mooring, for anchors are, like boat-hooks, masts, +sails, rudders, and rigging, alike unknown to the “jollye mariners” +of the Jhelum—some two or three miles above the entrance to the dreaded +Wular Lake. +</p> + +<p> +This awful stretch of water, so feared by the Kashmiri that his eyes goggle +when he even thinks of it, is an innocent enough looking lake, generally +occupied in reflectively reproducing its surroundings upside down, but +occasionally its calm surface is ruffled by a little breeze, and it is reported +that wild and horrible squalls sweep down the nullahs of Haramok at times, and +destroy the unwary. These squalls are said to be most frequent in the +afternoons, and are probably the accompaniments of the thunderstorms. +</p> + +<p> +It is only considered possible to cross the Wular between dawn and 10 or 11 +A.M., and no persuasion will prevail upon a native boatman to risk his life on +the lake after lunch. +</p> + +<p> +Before turning in, I gave orders that a start should be made next morning at +five o’clock, but a heavy squall of rain and thunder during the night had +the effect of causing orders to be set at naught, and at breakfast-time there +was no sign of “up anchor” nor even of “heaving short.” +An interview with the Admiral showed me that the Wular, in his opinion, was too +dangerous to cross to-day—in fact he wouldn’t dream of asking +coolies to risk it. He was given to understand that we intended to cross, and +that the sooner he started the safer it would be. +</p> + +<p> +No coolies being forthcoming, I inhumanly gave orders to get under +way—the available crew consisting of the wicked Satarah, the first +lieutenant, and the Lady Jiggry. Sulkily and slowly we wended our way past the +wide flats which border the Wular, all blazing golden with mustard in full +pungent flower. +</p> + +<p> +Before entering the lake the Admiral meekly requested to be allowed to try for +coolies in a small village near by. He was allowed quarter of an hour for +pressgang work, and sure enough he came back within a very reasonable time with +a few spare hands, and then—paddling and poling for dear life—we +glided swiftly through the tangled lily-pads and the green rosettes of the +Singhara, and soon were <i>in medias res</i> and fairly committed to the deep. +</p> + +<p> +The Wular lay like a burnished mirror, reflecting the buttresses of Haramok on +our right, and the snowy ranges by the Tragbal ahead, its silvery surface lined +here and there with the wavering tracks of other boats, or broken by bristling +clumps of reeds and tall water-plants. Our transit was perfectly peaceful, and +by lunch-time we were safely tied up to a bank, purple with irises, just below +Bandipur. +</p> + +<p> +A visit to the post-office and a stroll up the rocky hill behind it, where we +sat for some time and watched a pair of jackals sneaking about, completed a +peaceful afternoon. +</p> + +<p> +<i>May</i> 3.—We were up with the lark, and, having moved along the coast +a few miles to the west of Bandipur, left the ship before six of the clock in +pursuit of bear. I had “khubbar” of one in the Malingam Nullah, +and, after a brisk walk over the lower slopes, we entered the nullah and +clambered up about 1500 feet to a quiet and retired spot under a shady +thorn-bush, where we breakfasted. +</p> + +<p> +We thereafter climbed a little higher, and then sat down while the shikaris +departed to spy, their method of spying being, I believe, somewhat after this +fashion:—Leaving the sahib with his belongings—notably the tiffin +coolie—in a spot carefully selected for its seclusion, the miscreants +depart hurriedly and rapidly up the nearest inaccessible crag; this is +“business,” and throws dust, so to say, in the eyes of the sahib, +by means of an exhibition of activity and zeal. Passing out of sight over the +sky-line, the hunters pause, wink at one another, and, choosing a shady and +convenient corner, proceed to squat, light their pipes, and discuss +matters—chiefly financial—until they deem it time to return, +scrambling and breathless with excitement, to relate all that they have seen +and done. +</p> + +<p> +So, while the shikaris unceasingly spied for bear, for nine mortal hours Jane +and I camped out on a remarkably hard and unyielding stone, varied by other +seats equally tiresome. +</p> + +<p> +Fortunately we had brought books with us, and we relieved the monotony by +observing the habits of a pair of “kastooras,” a hawk, and a brace +of chikor at intervals, but it was truly a tedious chase. +</p> + +<p> +At four o’clock the sons of Nimrod returned, declaring that the bear had +been seen, but that as we had on chaplies and not grass shoes, it would be +impossible for us to pursue him. I asked the shikari why the —— +goose he had let me come out in chaplies instead of grass shoes if the country +was so rough? His reply was to the effect that whatever it pleased me to wear +pleased him! +</p> + +<p> +<i>May</i> 4.—Armed <i>cap-à-pie</i> so to speak, with pith helmets and +grass shoes, we again set forth at dawn of day to hunt the bear. Breakfast +under the same tree, sitting on the same patch of rose-coloured flowers—a +sort of fumitory (<i>Corydalus rutaefolia</i>)—followed by another +nine-hour bivouac, brought us to 5 P.M. and the extreme limit of boredom, when +lo! the shikaris burst upon us in a state of frenzied excitement to announce +the bear! Off we went up a steep track for a quarter of an hour, until, at the +foot of a rough snow slope, the shikari told the much disgusted Jane that she +must wait there, the rest of the climb being too hard for her, and, in truth, +it was pretty bad. Up a very steep gully filled with loose stones and rotten +snow, scrambling, and often hauling ourselves up with our hands by means of +roots and trailing branches, we slowly worked our way up a place I would never +have even attempted in cold blood. +</p> + +<p> +Twenty minutes’ severe exertion brought us to a shelf, or rather slope, +of rock on the right, sparsely covered with wiry brown grass from which the +snow had but very recently gone, and crowned by a crest of stunted pines. Up +this we wriggled, I being mainly towed up by my shikari’s cummerbund, +and, lying under a pine, we peered over the top. +</p> + +<p> +A steep gully divided us from a rough ridge, upon a grassy ledge of which, +about 200 yards off, a big black beast was grubbing and rooting about. +</p> + +<p> +The shikari, shaking with excitement, handed me the rifle, urging me to shoot. +I did nothing of the sort, having no breath, and my hand being unsteady from a +fast and stiff climb. +</p> + +<p> +I regret to be obliged to admit that, not realising that it would be little +short of miraculous to kill a bear stone-dead at 200 yards with a Mannlicher, +and being also, naturally, somewhat carried away by the sight of a real bear +within possible distance, I waited until I was perfectly steady, and fired. The +brute fell over, but immediately picked himself up again and made off. I saw I +had broken his fore-shoulder and fired again as he disappeared over the far +side of the ledge, but missed, and I saw that bear no more. +</p> + +<p> +We had the utmost difficulty in crossing the precipitous gully to a spot below +the ledge upon which the beast had been feeding—the ledge itself we could +not reach at all; and the lateness of the hour and the difficulty of the +country in which we were, prevented us from trying to enter the next ravine and +work up and back by the way the bear had gone. A neck-breaking crawl down a +horrible grass slope brought us to better ground, and I sadly joined Jane to be +well and deservedly scolded for firing a foolish shot. The lady was very much +disgusted at having been defrauded of the sight of a bear “quite +wild,” as she expressed it—a certain short-tempered animal which +had eaten up her best umbrella in the Zoo at Dusseldorf not having fulfilled +the necessary condition of wildness. +</p> + +<p> +Next day I sent out coolies to search for traces, promising lavish +“backshish” in the event of success, but I got no trustworthy news, +“and that was the end of that hunting.” +</p> + +<p> +<i>May</i> 6.—Jane took a respite from the chase, and I sallied forth +alone at dawn up a nullah from Alsu to look for a bear which was said to +frequent those parts. A brisk walk of some four miles over the flat, followed +by a climb up a track—steep as usual—to the left of the main track +to the Lolab, brought us to a grassy ridge, where I sat down patiently to await +the bear’s pleasure. I took my note-book with me, and whiled away some +time in writing the following:— +</p> + +<p> +Let me jot down a sketch of my present position and surroundings; it will serve +to bring the scene back to me, perhaps, when I am again sitting in my own +particular armchair watching the fat thrushes hopping about the lawn. +</p> + +<p> +Well, I am perched in a little hollow under a big grey boulder, which serves to +shelter me to a certain, but limited, extent from the brisk showers that come +sweeping over from the Lolab Valley. The hollow is so small that it barely +contains my tiffin basket, rifle, gun, and self—in fact, my grass-shod +and puttied extremities dangle over the rim, whence a steep slope shelves down +some 200 feet to a brawling burn, the hum of which, mingling with the fitful +sighing of the pines as the breeze sweeps through their sounding boughs, is +perpetually in my ears. Across the little torrent, and not more than a hundred +yards away, rises a slope, covered with rough grass and scrub, similar to that +in the face of which I am ensconced. +</p> + +<p> +Here the bear was seen at 7 A.M. by a Gujar, who gave the fullest particulars +to Ahmed Bot (my shikari) in a series of yells from a hill-top as we came up +the valley. We arrived on the scene about seven, just in time to be too late, +apparently. It is now 3 P.M., and the bear is supposed to be asleep, and I am +possessing my soul in patience until it shall be Bruin’s pleasure to +awake and sally forth for his afternoon tea. +</p> + +<p> +There is certainly no bear now, so I pass the time in sleeping, eating, +smoking, writing, and observing the manners and customs of a family of monkeys +who are disporting themselves in a deep glen to the left. Beyond this ravine +rises a high spur, beautifully wooded, the principal trees being deodar, blue +pine (<i>Excelsa</i>) and yew. This is sloped at the invariable and disgusting +angle of 45 degrees. Beyond it rise further wooded slopes, with snow gleaming +through the deep green, and above all is the changing sky, where the clear blue +gives way to a billowy expanse of white rolling clouds or dark rain-laden +masses, which pour into the upper clefts of the ravine, and blot out the +serried ranks of the pines, until a thorough drenching seems +inevitable—when lo! a glint of blue through the gloomy background, and +soon again, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“With never a stain, the pavilion of Heaven is bare.” +</p> + +<p> +The immediate foreground, as I said before, slopes sharply from my very feet, +where a clump of wild sage and jasmin (the leaves just breaking) grows over a +charming little bunch of sweet violets. Lower down I can see the lilac flowers +of a self-heal, and the bottom of the little gorge is clothed with a bush like +a hazel, only with large, soft whitish flowers. +</p> + +<p> +My solitude has just been enlivened by the appearance of a cheerful party of +lovely birds. They are very busy among the “hazels,” flying from +bush to bush with restless activity, and wasting no time in idleness. They are +about the size of large finches—slender in shape, with longish tails. +They are divided into two perfectly distinct kinds, probably male and female. +The former have the back, head, and wings black; the latter barred with +scarlet, the breast and underparts also scarlet. The others—which I +assume to be the females—replace the black with ashy olive, the wings +being barred with yellow, the underparts yellowish. The very familiar note of +the cuckoo, somewhere up in the jungle, reminds me of an English spring. +</p> + +<p> +4 P.M.—I knew it! I knew that if the wind held down the nullah I should +be dragged up that horrible ridge opposite. Hardly had I written the above when +I was hunted from my lair, and rushed down 200 steep feet, and then up some 500 +or 600 on the other side of the stream, through an abattis of clinging +undergrowth that made a severe toil of what could never have been a pleasure. +There can be no doubt but that a pith helmet—a really shady, broad +one—is a most infernal machine under which to force one’s way +through brushwood. +</p> + +<p> +Well, all things come to an end—wind first, temper next, and finally the +journey. +</p> + +<p> +My shikari is a fiend in human shape. He slinks along on the flat at what +<i>looks</i> like a mild three-miles-an-hour constitutional, but unless you are +a <i>real</i> four-mile man you will be left hopelessly astern; but when he +gets upon his favourite “one in one” slope, then does he simply +sail away, with the tiffin coolie carrying a fat basket and all your spare +lumber in his wake, while you toil upward and ever +upwards—gasping—until with your last available breath you murmur +“Asti,” and sink upon the nearest stone a limp, perspiring worm! +</p> + +<p> +5.30 P.M.—That bear has taken a sleeping draught! +</p> + +<p> +I am now perched on a lonely rock, my hard taskmaster having routed me out of a +very comfortable place under a blue pine, whose discarded needles afforded me a +really agreeable resting-place, and dragged me away down again through the pine +forest and jungle; hurried me across a roaring torrent on a fallen tree trunk; +personally conducted me hastily up a place like the roof of a house; and +finally, explaining that the bear, when disturbed, must inevitably come close +past me, has departed with his staff (the chota shikari, the tiffin coolie, and +a baboon-faced native) to wake up the bear and send him along. +</p> + +<p> +After the first flurry of feeling all alone in the world, with only a probable +bear for society, and having loaded all my guns, clasped my visor on my head +and my Bessemer hug-proof strait-waistcoat round my “tummy,” I felt +calm enough to await events with equanimity. +</p> + +<p> +6.15 P.M.—A large and solemn monkey is sitting on the top of a thick and +squat yew tree regarding me with unfeigned interest. The torrent is roaring +away in the cleft below. Nothing else seems alive, and I am becoming +bored——What? A bear? No! The shikari, thank goodness! +</p> + +<p> +“Well, shikari—Baloo dekho hai?” No, it is passing strange, +but he has <i>not</i> seen a bear. “All right! Pick up the blunderbuss, +and let us make tracks for the ship.” +</p> + +<p> +<i>Wednesday, May</i> 10.—Beguiled by legends of many bears, detailed to +me with apparently heartfelt sincerity by Ahmed Bot, I have been pursuing these +phantoms industriously. +</p> + +<p> +On Monday we quitted our boat, and started upon a trip into the Lolab Valley. +The views, as the path wound up the green and flower-spangled slope, were very +beautiful, and, when we had ascended about 1500 feet and were about opposite to +the supposed haunt of Saturday’s bear, we determined to camp and enjoy +the scenery, not omitting an evening expedition in search of our shy friend. +</p> + +<p> +Jane joining me, we had a most charming ramble down a narrow track to the bed +of the stream which rushes down from the snow-covered ridge guarding the Lolab. +Here we crossed into a splendid belt of gaunt silver firs, the first I have +seen here; whitish yellow marsh-marigolds and a most vivid “smalt” +blue forget-me-not with large flowers were abundant, also an oxalis very like +our own wood-sorrel. +</p> + +<p> +Emerging from the pines, we crossed a grassy slope covered with tall primulas +(P. <i>denticulata</i>) of varying shades of mauve and lilac, and sat down for +a bit among the flowers while the shikaris looked for game. (I need hardly +remark that the noble but elusive beast had appeared on the scene shortly after +I left on Saturday; a Gujar told the shikari, and the shikari told me, so it +must be true.) When we had gathered as many flowers as we could carry, we +strolled back to the camp to watch the sunset transmute the snowy crest of +Haramok to a golden rose. +</p> + +<p> +Yesterday, Tuesday, I left the camp at dawn, and went all over the same ground, +but with no better success, only seeing a couple of bara singh, hornless now, +and therefore comparatively uninteresting from a “shikar” point of +view. After a delightful but bearless ramble I returned to breakfast, and then +we struck camp, and completed the ascent of the pass over into the Lolab. +Arrived at the top, we turned off the path to the right, and, climbing a short +way, came out upon the lower part of the Nagmarg, a pretty, open clearing among +the pines where the grass, dotted thickly with yellow colchicum, was only +showing here and there through the melting snow. Choosing a snug and dry place +on some sun-warmed rocks at the foot of a tree, we prepared to lunch and laze, +and soon spread abroad the contents of the tiffin basket. +</p> + +<p> +There is something, nay much, of charm in the utter freedom and solitude of +Kashmir camp life. There is no beaten track to be followed diligently by the +tourist, German, American, or British, guide-book in hand and guide at elbow. +No empty sardine-tins, nor untidy scraps of paper, mar the clean and lonely +margs or village camping-grounds. +</p> + +<p> +The happy wanderer, selecting a grassy dell or convenient shady tree with a +clear spring or dancing rivulet near by, invokes the tiffin coolie, and if a +duly watchful eye has been kept upon that incorrigible sluggard, in short space +the contents of the basket deck the sward. What have we here? Yes, of course, +cold chicken— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“For beef is rare within these oxless isles.” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Bread! (how lucky we sent that coolie into Srinagar the other day). Butter, +nicely stowed in its little white jar, cheese-cakes (one of the Sabz +Ali’s masterpieces), and a few unconsidered trifles in the form of +“jam pups” and a stick of chocolate. +</p> + +<p> +Whisky is there, if required, but really the cold spring water is +“delicate to drink” without spirituous accompaniment. +</p> + +<p> +Hunger appeased, the beauty of the surrounding scenery becomes intensified when +seen through the balmy veil of smoke caused by the consumption of a mild +cheroot, and peace and contentment reign while we feed the sprightly crows with +chicken bones and bits of cheese rind. +</p> + +<p> +Shall we ever forget—Jane and I—that simple feast on the Nagmarg? +</p> + +<p> +The sloping snow melting into little rills which trickled through the +fresh-springing flower-strewn grass; the extraordinary blue of the hillsides +overlooking the Lolab Valley seen through the sloping boughs of the pines; the +crows hopping audaciously around or croaking on a dried branch just above our +heads; and above all, the glorious sense of freedom, of aloofness from all +disturbing elements, of utter and irresponsible independence in a lovely land +unspoiled by hand of man? +</p> + +<p> +The afternoon sun smote us full in the face as we descended the bare and not +too smooth path that led into the valley, and we were right glad to reach the +shade of a grove of deodars that covered the lower slopes of the hill. The +Lolab Valley, into which we had now penetrated, is a rich and picturesque +expanse of level plain, some fifteen miles long by three or four broad, +apparently completely surrounded by a densely-wooded curtain of mountains, +rising to an elevation of some 3000 feet above the valley on the south and +west, but ranging on the other sides up into the lofty summits which bar the +route into Gurais and the Tilail. The mountain chain is not really continuous, +the river Pohru, which drains the valley, finding outlet to the west e’er +it bends sharply to the south and enters the Wular near Sopor. +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps the most noticeable objects in the Lolab are the walnut trees; they are +now just coming into full leaf, and their great trunks, hoary with age and +softly velveted with dark green moss, form the noble columns of many a lovely +camping-ground. We pitched our tents at Lalpura in a grove of giants, the +majesty of which formed an exquisite contrast to the white foam of a cluster of +apple trees in bloom. +</p> + +<p> +It has been so hot to-day that we have stayed quietly in camp, reading, +sketching, and enjoying the <i>dolce far niente</i> of an idle life. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sunday, May</i> 14.—On Thursday we left Lalpura and marched to Kulgam, +a short distance of some eight or ten miles. Mr. Blunt, the forest officer,[1] +had most kindly placed the forest bungalows of the Lolab at our disposal; but, +as they all lie on the other side of the valley, we are obliged to camp every +night. We have been working along the north side of the Lolab, as the shikari +is full of bear “khubbar,” and as long as the weather remains fair +we really do not much care where we go! Skirting the foot of the wooded ridge +on our right, and with the flat and populous levels of the valley on our left, +we marched along a good path shaded in many places by the magnificent walnuts +and snowy fruit-trees for which the Lolab is justly famed, until, crossing the +Pohru by a rickety bridge, and toiling up a hot, bare slope, we reached Kulgam, +nestling at the foot of the hills. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[1] Commonly called the “Jungly-sahib.” +</p> + +<p> +After tiffin and a short rest we set forth up the nullah behind the village to +look for (need I say?) a bear. The gradient was stiff, as usual, and the path +none too good. Feeling that our laborious climb deserved to be rewarded by, at +any rate, the sight of game, and Ahmed Bot having sent a special message to the +Lumbadhar at Kulgam directing him to keep the nullah quiet, we were justly +incensed when, having toiled up some couple of thousand weary feet, we met a +gay party of the <i>élite</i> of Kulgam prancing down the hill with blankets +stuffed with wild leeks, or some such delicacy. +</p> + +<p> +Ahmed Bot showed reckless courage. Having overwhelmed the enemy with a +vituperative broadside, he fell upon them single-handed, tore from them their +cherished blankets, and spilt the leeks to the four winds. +</p> + +<p> +I expected nothing less than to be promptly hurled down the khud, with Jill +after me, by the six enraged burghers of Kulgam. But no. They simply sat down +together on a rock, and blubbered loud and long; we sat down opposite them on +another rock and laughed, and laughed—tableau! +</p> + +<p> +On Friday I went for a delightful walk through the pine and deodar forests, the +ostensible objective being, of course, a bear. Putting aside all ideas of +sport, I gave myself up to the simple joy of mere existence in such a land; +noting a handsome iris with broad red lilac blooms, which I had not seen +before; listening to the intermittent voice of the cuckoo, and pausing every +here and there to gaze over the fair valley, backed by its encircling ranges of +sunlit mountains. +</p> + +<p> +The chota shikari is a youth of great activity, both mental and physical. He +almost wept with excitement on observing the mark of a bear’s paw on a +dusty bit of path. He said it was a bear which had left that paw-mark, so I +believed him. Late in the dusk of the afternoon he <i>saw</i> a bear sitting +looking out of a cave. I could only make out a black hole, but he saw its ears +move. I regarded the spot with a powerful telescope, but only saw more hole; +still, I cannot doubt the chota shikari. The burra shikari saw it too, but was +of opinion that it was too late to go and bag it. I think he was right, so we +went back to camp without further adventure. +</p> + +<p> +Yesterday we left Kulgam, and followed up a track to a small village which lies +at the foot of the track leading over to Gurais and the Tilail country. Here we +camped in a grove of walnuts, which stood by an icy spring. Jane and I went for +a stroll, watched a couple of small woodpeckers hunting the trunk of a young +fir within a few feet of us, but retreated hurriedly to camp on the approach of +a heavy thunderstorm. This was but the prelude to a bad break in the weather; +all to-day it has rained in torrents, and everything is sopping and soaked. The +little stream which yesterday trickled by the camp is become a young river, and +it is a perfect mystery how Sabz Ali manages to cook our food over a fire +guarded from the full force of the rain by blankets propped up with sticks, and +how, having cooked it, he can bring it, still hot, across the twenty yards of +rain-swept space which intervenes between the cook-house and our tent. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Monday, May</i> 15.—The deluge continued all night, and only at about +ten o’clock this forenoon did the heavy curtain of rain break up into +ragged swirls of cloud, which, torn by the serrated ridges of the gloomy pines, +rolled dense and dark up the gorges, resonant now with the roar of full-fed +torrents. +</p> + +<p> +The men are all beginning to complain of fever, and have eaten up a great +quantity of quinine. Considering the dismal conditions under which they have +been living for the last couple of days, this is not surprising; so, with the +first promise of an improvement in the weather, we struck camp, determined to +make for the forest bungalow at Doras and obtain the shelter of a solid roof. +Many showers, but no serious downpour, enlivened our march, and we arrived at +the snug little wooden house just in time to escape a particularly fine +specimen of a thunderstorm. The Doras bungalow seemed a very palace of luxury, +with its dry, airy rooms and wide verandah, all of sweet-smelling deodar wood. +The men, too, were thankful to have a good roof over their heads, and we heard +no more of fever. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Wednesday, May</i> 17.—Yesterday it rained without ceasing, until the +valley in front of us took the appearance of a lake—A party of terns, +white above and with black breasts, skirled and wrangled over the +“casual” water. It was still very wet this morning, but as it +cleared somewhat after breakfast, we made up our minds to quit the Lolab and +get back to our boat. +</p> + +<p> +Doras has sad memories for Jane, for here died the “chota murghi,” +a black chicken endowed with the most affectionate disposition. It was +permitted to sit on the lady’s knee, and scratch its yellow beak with its +little yellow claw; but I never cared to let it remain long upon my +shoulder—a perch it ardently affected. Well! it is dead, poor dear, and +whether from shock (the pony which carried its basket having fallen down with +it <i>en route</i> from “Walnut Camp”), or from a surfeit of +caterpillars which were washed in myriads off the trees there, we cannot tell. +Sabz Ali brought the little corpse along, holding it by one pathetic leg to +show the horrified Jane, before giving it to the kites and crows. He has many +“murghis” left; baskets full, as he says, for they are cheap in the +Lolab, but we shall never love another so dearly. +</p> + +<p> +We had a shocking time while climbing to the pass which leads over to Rampur, +the road being deep in slimy mud, and so slippery that the unfortunate baggage +ponies could hardly get along. Jane, who is in splendid condition now, toiled +nobly up a track which would have been delightful had the weather been a little +less hideous. +</p> + +<p> +Reaching the ridge which divides the Lolab from the Pohru Valley, we turned to +the left, along the edge, instead of descending forthwith, as we had hoped and +expected to do. It was raw and cold, with flying wreaths of damp mist shutting +out the view, and we were glad of a comforting tiffin, swallowed somewhat +hurriedly, under a forlorn and stunted specimen of a blue pine. Then on along a +rough and slippery catwalk that made us wonder if the baggage ponies would +achieve a safe arrival at Rampur. +</p> + +<p> +Crossing a steep, rock-strewn ridge, covered with crown imperial in full +flower, we began a sharp descent through a wood of deodars; and now the +thunder, which had been grumbling and rumbling in the distance, came upon us, +and a deafening peal sent us scurrying down the hill at our best pace; the +lightning-blasted trunks stretching skywards their blackened and tempest-torn +limbs in ghastly witness of what had been and what might be again. +</p> + +<p> +At last we cleared the wood, and, plunging across a perfect slough of deep mud, +crawled on to the verandah of the Rampur forest-house, where we sat anxiously +watching the hillside until we saw our faithful ponies safely sliding down the +hill. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Thursday, May</i> 18.—The changes of weather in this country are +sudden and surprising. This morning we woke to a perfect day—the sun +bathing the warm hillsides, the picturesque brown village, and the brilliant +masses of snowy blossoming fruit-trees with a radiant smile. And, but for the +tell-tale riot of the streams and the sponginess of the compound, there was +nothing to betray the past misdeeds of the clerk of the weather. +</p> + +<p> +At noon we set out to cover the short distance that lay between us and Kunis, +where we had made tryst with Satarah. The country was like a series of English +woodland glades—watered by many purling streams, and bright with masses +of apple blossom; the turf around the trees all white and pink with petals torn +from the branches by the recent storms. Clumps of fir clothed the hills with +sombre green—a perfect background to a perfect picture. +</p> + +<p> +The flowers all along our path to-day were much in evidence after the rain. +Little prickly rose-bushes (<i>R. Webbiana</i>) were covered with pink blossoms +just bursting into full glory; bushes of white may, yellow berberis, Daphne +(<i>Oleoides?</i>), and many another flowering shrub grew in tangled profusion, +while pimpernel (red and blue), a small androsace (<i>rotundifolia</i>), +hawks-bit, stork’s bill, wild geranium, a tiny mallow, eye-bright, +forget-me-not, a little yellow oxalis, a speedwell, and many another, to me +unknown, blossom starred the roadside. In the fields round Kunis the poppies +flared, and the iris bordered the fields with a ribbon of royal purple. +</p> + +<p> +We reached Kunis at two o’clock, and found the village half submerged, +the water being up and over the low shores from the recent rain. Our boats were +moored in a clump of willows, whose feet stood so deeply in the water that we +had to embark on pony-back! After lunch came the usual difference of opinion +with the Admiral, who seems to have great difficulty in grasping the fact that +our will is law as to times and seasons for sailing. He always assumes the rôle +of passive resister, and is always defeated with ignominy. He insisted that it +was too late to think of reaching Bandipur, but we maintained that we could get +at any rate part of the way; so he cast off from his willow-tree, and sulkily +poked and poled out into the Wular, taking uncommon good care to hug the shore +with fervour. +</p> + +<p> +Here and there a group of willows standing far out into the lake, or a +half-drowned village, drove us out into the open water, and once when, like a +latter-day Vasco de Gama, the Admiral was striving to double the dreadful +promontory of a water-logged fence, a puff of wind fell upon us, lashing the +smooth water into ripples, whereupon the crew lost their wits with fright, and +the lady mariners in the cook-boat set up a dismal howling; the ark, taking +charge, crashed through the fence, her way carrying us to the very door of a +frontier villa of an amphibious village. With amazing alacrity the crew tied us +up to the door-post, and prepared to go into winter quarters. +</p> + +<p> +This did not suit us at all, and +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“The harmless storm being ended,” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +we ruthlessly broke away from our haven of refuge, and safely arrived at Alsu. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Friday, May</i> 19.—An ominous stillness and repose at 3 o’clock +this morning sent me forth to see why the windlass was not being manned. A +thing like a big grey bat flapping about, proved, on inspection, to be that +rascal the Lord High Admiral Satarah. He said he could not start, as the hired +coolies from Kunis had been so terrified by the horrors of yesterday that they +had departed in the night, sacrificing their pay rather than run any more risks +with such daredevils as the mem-sahib and me. This was vexatious and entirely +unexpected, as I had never before known a coolie to bolt before pay-day. Sabz +Ali and Satarah were promptly despatched on a pressgang foray, while I put to +sea with the first-lieutenant to show that I meant business. A crew was found +in a surprisingly short time, and a frenzied dart was made for the mouth of the +Jhelum. +</p> + +<p> +All day we poled round the shore of the lake, over flooded fields where the +mustard had spread its cloth of gold a short week ago, over the very hedges we +had scrambled through when duck-shooting in April, until in the evening we +entered the river just below Sumbal. +</p> + +<p> +The towing-path was almost, in many places quite, under water, and the whole +country looked most forlorn and melancholy as the sun went down—a pale +yellow ball in a pale yellow haze. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sunday, May</i> 21.—All yesterday we towed up the river against a +current which ran swift and strong. +</p> + +<p> +The passage of the bridge at Surahal gave us some trouble, as the flooded river +brought our upper works within a narrow distance of the highest point of the +span, but we finally scraped through with the loss of a portion of the railing +which decorated our upper deck. +</p> + +<p> +The strain of towing was severe, so, when a brisk squall and threatening +thunder-shower overtook us at the mouth of the Sind River, we decided to tie up +there for the night. +</p> + +<p> +This morning we started at four o’clock, but only reached our berth at +Srinagar at two, having spent no less than six hours in forcing the boats by +pole and rope for the last three miles through the town! An incredible amount +of panting, pushing, yelling, and hauling, with frantic invocations to +“Jampaws” and other saints, was required to enable us to crawl inch +by inch against the racing water which met us in the narrow canal below the +Palace. +</p> + +<p> +All’s well that ends well, and here we are once more in Srinagar, after a +trip which has been really delightful, albeit the weather latterly has not been +by any means all that could have been desired, and we have slain no bears![2] +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[2] Can it be that Bernier was right? “Il ne s’y trouve ni serpens, +ni tigres, ni ours, ni lions, si ce n’est très +rarement.”—<i>Voyage de Kachemire</i>. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap09"></a>CHAPTER IX<br/> +SRINAGAR AGAIN</h2> + +<p> +We have spent the last three weeks or so quietly in Srinagar, our boats forming +links in the long chain that, during the “season,” extends for +miles along both banks of the river. A large contingent of amphibians dwells in +the canal leading to the Dal gates, and the Chenar Bagh, sacred to the +bachelor, shows not a spare inch along its shady length. +</p> + +<p> +Not being either professional globe-trotters or Athenians, we have not felt +obliged to be perpetually in high-strung pursuit of some new thing; and to the +seeker after mild and modest enjoyment there is much to be said in favour of a +sojourn at Srinagar. +</p> + +<p> +Polo, gymkhanas, lawn-tennis, picnics, and golf are everyday occurrences, +followed by a rendezvous at the club, where every one congregates for a smoke +and chat, until the sun goes down behind the poplars, and the swift shikaras +come darting over the stream like water-beetles to carry off the sahibs to +their boats, to dress, dine, and reassemble for “bridge,” or +perhaps a dance at Nedou’s Hotel, or at that most hospitable hub of +Srinagar, the Residency. +</p> + +<p> +Polo is, naturally, practically restricted to the man who brings up his ponies +from the Punjab, but golf is for all, and the nine-hole course, although flat, +is not stale, and need not be unprofitable, unless you are fallen upon—as +I was—by two stalwart Sappers, sons of Canada and potent wielders of the +cleek, who gave me enough to do to keep my rupees in my pocket and the honour +of the mother country upheld! +</p> + +<p> +On May 26th we took shikara and paddled across the Dal Lake to see something of +the Mohammedan festival, consisting in a pilgrimage to the Mosque of Hasrat +Bal, where a hair of the prophet’s beard is the special object of +adoration. +</p> + +<p> +As we neared the goal the plot thickened. Hundreds of boats—from enormous +doungas containing the noisy inhabitants of, I should suppose, a whole village, +down to the tiniest shikara, whose passenger was perched with careful balance +to retain a margin of safety to his two inches of freeboard—converged +upon the crowded bank, above which rose the mosque. +</p> + +<p> +How can I best attempt to describe the din, the crush, the light, the colour? +Was it like Henley? Well, perhaps it might be considered as a mad, fantastic +Henley. Replace the fair ladies and the startling “blazers” with +veiled houris and their lords clad in all colours of the rainbow; for one +immortal “Squash” put hundreds of “squashes,” all +playing upon weird instruments, or singing in “a singular minor +key”; let the smell of outlandish cookery be wafted to you from the +“family” boats and from the bivouacs on the shore; let a constant +uproar fall upon your ears as when the Hall defeats Third Trinity by half a +length; and, finally, for the flat banks of Father Thames and the trim lawns of +Phyllis Court, you must substitute the Nasim Bagh crowned with its huge +chenars, and Mahadco looking down upon you from his thirteen thousand feet of +precipice and snow. +</p> + +<p> +Half-an-hour of this kaleidoscopic whirl of gaiety satisfied us. The sun, in +spite of an awning, was a little trying, so we sought the quiet and shade of +the Nasim Bagh for lunch and repose. +</p> + +<p> +Returning towards Srinagar about sundown, we stopped to visit the ancient +Mosque of Hassanabad, which stands on a narrow inlet or creek of the Dal Lake, +shaded by chenars and willows in all their fresh spring green. A little lawn of +softest turf slopes up gently to the ruined mosque, of which a portion of an +apse and vaulted dome alone stand sentinel over its fallen greatness. Around +lie the tombs of princes, whose bones have mouldered for eight hundred years +under the irises, which wave their green sabres crowned with royal purple in +the whispering twilight. +</p> + +<p> +Near by, the mud and timber walls of a ziarat stand, softly brown, supporting a +deeply overhanging, grass-grown roof, blazing with scarlet tulips. Through its +very centre, and as though supporting it, pierces the gnarled trunk of a walnut +tree, reminding one of Ygdrasil, the Upholder of the Universe. +</p> + +<p> +<i>May</i> 27.—What an improvement it would be if a house-dounga could be +fitted with torpedo netting! Jane finds herself in the most embarrassing +situations, while dressing in the morning, from the unwelcome pertinacity of +the merchants who swarm up the river in the early hours from their lairs, and +lay themselves alongside the helpless house-boats. +</p> + +<p> +By 10 A.M. we have to repel boarders in all directions. Mr. Sami Joo is +endeavouring to sell boots from the bow, while Guffar Ali is pressing +embroidery on our acceptance from the stern. Ali Jan is in a boat full of +carved-wood rubbish on the starboard side, while Samad Shah, Sabhana, and +half-a-dozen other robbers line the river bank opposite our port windows and +clamour for custom. A powerful garden-hose of considerable calibre might be +useful, but for the present I have given Sabz Ali orders to rig out long poles, +which will prevent the enemy from so easily getting to close quarters. +</p> + +<p> +<i>June</i> 17.—It is quite curious that it should be so difficult to +find time to keep up this journal. Mark Twain, in that best of burlesques, +<i>The Innocents Abroad</i> affirms, if I remember rightly, that you could not +condemn your worst enemy to greater suffering than to bind him down to keep an +accurate diary for a year. +</p> + +<p> +It is the inexorable necessity for writing day by day one’s impressions +that becomes so trying; and yet it must be done daily if it is to be done at +all, for the only virtue I can attain to in writing is truth; and impressions +from memory, like sketches from memory, are of no value from the hand of any +but a master. +</p> + +<p> +The time set apart for diary-writing is the hour which properly intervenes +between chota hasri and the announcement of my bath; but, somehow, there never +seems to be very much time. Either the early tea is late or bath is early, or a +shikar expedition, with a grass slipper in pursuit of flies, takes up the +precious moments, and so the business of the day gets all behindhand. +</p> + +<p> +The fly question is becoming serious. Personally, I do not consider that fleas, +mosquitoes, or any other recognised insect pests (excepting, perhaps, harvest +bugs) are so utterly unendurable as the “little, busy, thirsty +fly.” It seems odd, too, as he neither stings nor bites, that he should +be so objectionable; but his tickly method of walking over your nose or down +your neck, and the exasperating pertinacity with which he refuses to take +“no” for an answer when you flick him delicately with a +handkerchief, but “cuts” and comes again, maddens you until you +rise, bloody-minded in your wrath, and, seizing the nearest sledgehammer, fall +upon the brute as he sits twiddling his legs in a sunny patch on the table, +then lo— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Unwounded from the dreadful close “— +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +he frisks cheerfully away, leaving you to gather up cursefully the fragments of +the china bowl your wife bought yesterday in the bazaar! +</p> + +<p> +How he manages to congregate in his legions in this ship is a mystery. Every +window is guarded by “meat safe” blinds of wire gauze; the doors +are, normally, kept shut; and yet, after one has swept round like an irate +whirlwind with a grass slipper, and slain or desperately wounded every visible +fly in the cabin, and at last sat down again to pant and paint, hoping for +surcease from annoyance, not five minutes pass before one, two, nay, a round +dozen of the miscreants are gaily licking the moisture off the cobalt (may they +die in agony!), or trying to swim across the glass of water, or playing +hop-scotch on the nape of my neck. +</p> + +<p> +From what mysterious lair or hidden orifice they come I know not, but here they +are in profusion until another massacre of the innocents is decreed. +</p> + +<p> +It is a sound thing to go round one’s sleeping-cabin at night before +“turning in,” and make a bag of all that can be found +“dreaming the happy hours away” on the bulkheads and ceiling. It +sends us to bed in the virtuous frame of mind of the Village Blacksmith— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Something attempted, something done,<br/> +Has earned a night’s repose” +</p> + +<p> +There are other microbes besides flies in Kashmir which are +exasperating—coolies, for instance. +</p> + +<p> +I had engaged men through Chattar Singh (the State Transport factotum at +Srinagar) to take us up the river, and decreed that we should start at 4 A.M. +yesterday. +</p> + +<p> +We had been to an <i>al fresco</i> gathering at the Residency the night before, +and so were rather sleepy in the early morning, and I did not wake at four +o’clock. At six we had not got far on our way, and at ten we were but +level with Pandrettan, barely three miles from Srinagar as the crow (that model +of rectilinear volition) flies. +</p> + +<p> +I was busy painting all the forenoon, and failed to note the sluggish steps of +our coolies, but in the afternoon it was borne in upon us that if we wanted to +reach Avantipura that night, as we had arranged, a little acceleration was +necessary. +</p> + +<p> +Then the trouble began. The coolies were bone-lazy, the admiral and +first-lieutenant were sulky, and the weather was stuffy and threatened +thunder—the conditions were altogether detrimental to placidity of +temper. +</p> + +<p> +By sunset we had the shikari, the kitchen-maid, and the sweeper on the +tow-rope, and even the great and good Sabz Ali was seen to bear a hand in +poling. Much recrimination now ensued between Sabz Ali and the Admiral, and the +whole crowd made the air resound with Kashmiri “language,” every +one, apparently, abusing everybody else, and making very nasty remarks about +their lady ancestors. +</p> + +<p> +At 10 P.M. I got four more coolies from a village, apparently chiefly inhabited +by dogs, who deeply resented our proximity, and at 2 o’clock this morning +we reached the haven where we would be—Avantipura. +</p> + +<p> +This morning I discharged the Srinagar coolies and took a fresh lot, who pull +better and talk less. +</p> + +<p> +How differently things may be put and yet the truth retained. Yesterday we +reclined at our ease in our cosy floating cottage, towed up the lovely river by +a picturesque crew of bronze Kashmiris, the swish of the passing water only +broken by their melodious voices. The brilliancy of the morning gave way in the +afternoon to a soft haze which fell over the snowy ranges, mellowing their +clear tones to a soft and pearly grey, while the reflections of the big chenars +which graced the river bank deepened us the afternoon shadows lengthened and +spread over the wide landscape. Towards evening we strolled along the river +bank plucking the ripe mulberries, and idly watching the terns and kingfishers +busily seeking their suppers over the glassy water; and at night we sat on deck +while the moon rose higher in the quiet sky, and the dark river banks assumed a +clearer ebony as she rose above the lofty fringe of trees, until the +towing-path lay a track of pure silver reaching away to the dim belt of +woodland which shrouded Avantipura. +</p> + +<p> +That is a perfectly accurate description of the day, and so is this:— +</p> + +<p> +It was very hot—and there is nothing hid from the heat of the sun on +board a wooden house-dounga. The flies, too, were unusually malevolent, and I +could scarcely paint, and my wife could hardly read by reason of their +unwelcome attentions. +</p> + +<p> +The coolies were a poor lot and a slack, and as the day grew stuffier and +sultrier so did their efforts on the tow-path become “small by degrees +and beautifully less.” +</p> + +<p> +That irrepressible bird—the old cock—refused to consider himself as +under arrest in his hen-coop, and insisted upon crowing about fifteen times a +minute with that fidgeting irregularity which seems peculiar to certain +unpleasant sounds, and which retains the ear fixed in nervous tension for the +next explosion of defiance or pride, or whatever evil impulse it is which +causes a cock to crow. +</p> + +<p> +Driven overboard by the cock, and a feeling that exercise would be beneficial, +we landed in the afternoon, and plodded along the bank for some miles. The +innumerable mulberry trees are loaded with ripe fruit, the ground below being +literally black with fallen berries. We ate some, and pronounced them to be but +mawkish things. +</p> + +<p> +After dinner we sat on deck, as the lamp smelt too strongly to let us enjoy +ourselves in the cabin, and the coolies on the bank and the people in our boat +and those in the cook-boat engaged in a triangular duel of words, until the +last few grains of my patience ran through the glass, and I spake with +<i>my</i> tongue. +</p> + +<p> +There is certainly some curious quality in the air of this country which +affects the nerves: maybe it is the elevation at which one lives—certain +it is that many people complain of unwonted irritability and susceptibility to +petty annoyances. And, while travelling in Kashmir is easy and comfortable +enough along beaten tracks, yet the petty worries connected with all matters of +transport and supply are incessant, and become much more serious if one cannot +speak or understand Hindustani. +</p> + +<p> +It takes some little time for the Western mind to grasp the fact that the +Kashmiri cannot and must not be treated on the “man and brothel” +principle. +</p> + +<p> +He is by nature a slave, and his brain is in many respects the undeveloped +brain of a child; in certain ways, however, his outward childishness conceals +the subtlety of the Heathen Chinee. +</p> + +<p> +He has in no degree come to comprehend the dignity of labour any more than a +Poplar pauper comprehends it, but fortunately his Guardians, while granting +certain advantages in his tenure of land and payment of rent, have bound him, +in return, to work for a fair payment, when required to do so by his +Government, as exercised by the local Tehsildhar. +</p> + +<p> +The demand made upon a village for coolies is not, therefore, an arbitrary and +high-handed system of bullying, but simply a call upon the villages to fulfil +their obligation towards the State by doing a fair day’s work for a fair +day’s pay of from four to six annas. +</p> + +<p> +I do not, of course, propose to entangle myself in the working of the Land +Settlement, which is most fully and admirably explained in Lawrence’s +<i>Valley of Kashmir</i>. +</p> + +<p> +The coolie, drawn from his native village reluctant, like a periwinkle from its +shell, is never a good starter, and when he finds himself at the end of a +tow-rope or bowed beneath half a hundredweight of the sahib’s trinkets, +with a three-thousand-feet pass to attain in front of him, he is extremely apt +to burst into tears—idle tears—or be overcome by a fit of that fell +disease—“the lurgies.” Lest my reader should not be +acquainted with this illness, at least under that name, here is the diagnosis +of the lurgies as given by a very ordinary seaman to the ship’s doctor. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sir, I eats well, and I sleeps well; but when I’ve got a job +of work to do—Lor’ bless you, sir! I breaks out all over of a +tremble!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap10"></a>CHAPTER X<br/> +THE LIDAR VALLEY</h2> + +<p> +We were glad enough to leave Srinagar, as that place has been undoubtedly +trying lately, being extremely hot and relaxing. The river, which had been up +to the fourteen-foot level, as shown on the gate ports at the entrance to the +Sunt-i-kul Canal, had fallen to 9-1/2 feet, and the mud, exposed both on its +banks and in the fields and flats which had been flooded, must have given out +unwholesome exhalations, of which the riverine population, the dwellers in +house-boats and doungas, got the full benefit. +</p> + +<p> +Jane has certainly been anything but well lately, and I confess to a certain +feeling best described as “slack and livery.” +</p> + +<p> +We had not intended to remain nearly so long in Srinagar, but the continuity of +the chain of entertainments proved too firm to break, and dances and dinners, +bridge and golf, kept us bound from day to day, until the <i>fête</i> at the +Residency on the 15th practically brought the Srinagar season to a close, and +broke up the line of house-boats that had been moored along both banks of the +river. +</p> + +<p> +We had arranged to start with a party of three other boats up the river, +visiting Atchibal with our friends, and then going up the Lidar Valley, while +they retraced their way to Srinagar. +</p> + +<p> +The most popular bachelor in Kashmir was appointed commodore, and deputed to +set the pace and arrange rendezvous. He began by sending on his big house-boat, +dragged by many coolies, to Pampur, a distance of some ten miles by water, and, +following himself on horseback by road, instituted a sort of “Devil take +the hindmost” race, for which we were not prepared. +</p> + +<p> +On reaching Pampur we heard that the “Baltic Fleet” had sailed for +Avantipura, so we followed on; but, alas! having made a forced march to this +latter place, we found that Rodjestvenski Phelps had again escaped us and +“gone before.” +</p> + +<p> +We consigned him and the elusive “chota resident,” who was in +command of the rest of the party, to perdition, and decided to pursue the even +tenor of our way to the Lidar Valley. +</p> + +<p> +The upper reaches of the Jhelum tire not wildly or excitingly lovely. The +narrowed waters, like sweet Thames, run softly between quiet British banks, +willow veiled. The wide level flats of the lower river give place to low +sloping hills or “karewas,” which fall in terraced undulations from +the foothills of the higher ranges which close in the eastern extremity of the +Kashmir Valley. +</p> + +<p> +It was well into the evening, and the sun had just set, throwing a glorious +rosy flush over the snows which surround the Lidar Valley, when we came to the +picturesque bridge which crosses the stream at Bejbehara. +</p> + +<p> +The scene here was charming—a grand festa or religious tamasha being +toward; the whole river was swarming with boats—great doungas, with their +festive crews yelling a monotonous chant, paddled uproariously by. Light +shikaras darted in and out, making up for want of volume in their song by the +piercing shrillness of their utterances. The banks and bridge teemed with +swarming life, and all Kashmir seemed to have contributed its noisiest members +to the revel. +</p> + +<p> +Beyond the bridge we could see through the gathering dusk many house-boats of +the sahibs clustering under a group of magnificent chenars, over whose dark +masses the moon was just rising, full orbed. The piers of the bridge seemed to +be set in foliage, large willows having grown up from their bases, giving a +most curious effect. We marked with some apprehension the swiftness of the oily +current which came swirling round the piers, and soon we found ourselves stuck +fast about half-way under the bridge, apparently unable to force our boat +another inch against the stream which boiled past. An appalling uproar was +caused by the coolies and the unemployed upon the bridge, who all, as usual, +gave unlimited advice to every one else as to the proper management of affairs +under the existing circumstances, but did nothing whatever in support of their +theories. The situation was becoming quite interesting, and the +“mem-sahib” and I, sitting on the roof of our boat, were +speculating as to what would happen next when the Gordian knot was cut by the +unexpected energy and courage of the first-lieutenant, who boldly slapped an +argumentative coolie in the face, while the admiral dashed promiscuously into +the shikara, and—yelling “Hard-a-starboard!—Full speed +ahead!—Sit on the safety—valve!”—boldly shot into an +overhanging mulberry tree, wherein our tow-rope was much entangled. The rope +was cleared, the crew poled like fury, the coolies hauled for all they were +worth, every one yelled himself hoarse, and we forged ahead. We crashed under +the mulberry tree, which swept us from stem to stern, nearly carrying the +hen-coop overboard; while Jane and I lay flat under a perfect hail of squashy +black fruit which covered the upper deck. +</p> + +<p> +We went on shore for a moonlight stroll after dinner. The place was like a +glorified English park; chenars of the first magnitude, taking the place of +oaks, rose from the short crisp turf, while a band of stately poplars stood +sentry on the river bank. Through blackest shadow and over patches of moonlit +sward we rambled till we came upon the ruins of a temple, of which little was +left but a crumbled heap of masonry in the middle of a rectangular grassy +hollow which had evidently been a tank, small detached mounds, showing where +the piers of a little bridge had stood, giving access to the building from the +bank. An avenue of chenars led straight to the bridge, showing either the +antiquity of the trees or the comparatively modern date of the temple. +</p> + +<p> +<i>June 19</i>.—Yesterday afternoon we left Bejbehara, and went on to +Kanbal, the port of Islamabad. A hot and sultry day, oppressive and enervating +to all but the flies, which were remarkably energetic and lively. The river +below Islamabad is quite narrow, and hemmed in between high mudbanks. +</p> + +<p> +Here we found the “Baltic Fleet,” but, knowing that our fugitive +friends must have already reached Atchibal, we held to our intention of going +up the Lidar. +</p> + +<p> +Having tied up to a remarkably smelly bank, which was just lofty enough to +screen our heated brows from any wandering breeze, we landed to explore. A hot +walk of a mile or so along a dusty, poplar-lined road brought us to the town of +Islamabad, which, however, concealed its beauties most effectually in a mass of +foliage. Although it ranks as the second town in Kashmir, it can hardly be said +to be more than a big village, even allowing for its 9000 inhabitants, its +picturesque springs, and its boast of having been once upon a time the capital +of the valley. The first hundred yards of “city,” consisting of a +highly-seasoned bazaar paved with the accumulated filth of ages, was enough to +satisfy our thirst for sight-seeing, and after a visit to the post-office we +trudged back through a most oppressive grey haze to the boat. Crowds of the +<i>élite</i> of the neighbourhood were hastening into Islamabad, where the +“tamasha,” which we came upon at Bejbehara, is to be continued +to-morrow. +</p> + +<p> +We had a good deal of difficulty in getting transport for our expedition, as +the Assistant Resident and his party had, apparently, cleared the place of +available ponies and coolies. An appeal to the Tehsildhar was no use, as that +dignitary had gone to Atchibal in the Court train. However, a little pressure +applied to Lassoo, the local livery stablekeeper, produced eight baggage ponies +and a good-looking cream-coloured steed, with man’s saddle, for my wife. +</p> + +<p> +The syce, a jovial-looking little flat-faced fellow, was a native of Ladakh. +</p> + +<p> +We made a fairly early start, getting off about six, and, having skirted the +town and passed the neat little Zenana Mission Hospital, we had a pretty but +uneventful march of some six miles to Bawan, where, under a big chenar, we +halted for the greater part of the day. +</p> + +<p> +Here let me point out that life is but a series of neglected opportunities. We +were within a couple of miles of Martand, the principal temple in Kashmir, and +we did not go to see it! I blush as I write this, knowing that hereafter no +well-conducted globe-trotter will own to my acquaintance, and, indeed, the case +requires explanation. Well, then, it was excessively hot; we were both in bad +condition, and I had ten miles more to march, so we decided to visit Martand on +our way down the valley. Alas! we came this way no more. +</p> + +<p> +Little knowing how much we were missing, we sat contented in the shade while +the hot hours went by, merely strolling down to visit a sacred tank full of +cool green water and swarming with holy carp, which scrambled in a solid mass +for bits of the chupatty which Jane threw to them. +</p> + +<p> +A clear stream gushed out of a bank overhung by a tangle of wild plants. To the +left was a weird figure of the presiding deity, painted red, and frankly +hideous. +</p> + +<p> +We were truly sorry to feel obliged, at four o’clock, to leave Bawan with +its massy trees and abundance of clear running water, and step out into the +heat and glare of the afternoon. +</p> + +<p> +I found it a trying march. The road led along a fairly good track among +rice-fields, whence the sloping sun glinted its maddening reflection, but here +and there clumps of walnuts—the fruit just at the pickling +stage—cast a broad cool shadow, in which one lingered to pant and mop a +heated brow e’er plunging out again into the grievous white sunlight. +</p> + +<p> +The cavalcade was increased during the afternoon by the addition to our numbers +of a dog—a distinctly ugly, red-haired native sort of dog, commonly +called a pi-dog. He appeared, full of business—from nowhere in +particular—and his business appeared to be to go to Eshmakam with us. +</p> + +<p> +As we neared that place the road began to rise through the loveliest woodland +scenery—white roses everywhere in great bushes of foamy white, and in +climbing wreaths that drooped from the higher trees, wild indigo in purple +patches reminding one not a little of heather. Above the still unseen village a +big ziarat or monastery shone yellow in the sinking sunlight, and overhead rose +a rugged grey wall of strangely pinnacled crags, outliers of the Wardwan, +showing dusky blue in the clear-cut shadows, and rose grey where the low sun +caught with dying glory the projecting peaks and bastions. +</p> + +<p> +In a sort of orchard of walnut trees, on short, clean, green grass, we pitched +our tents, and right glad was I to sit in a comfortable Roorkhee chair and +admire the preparations for dinner after a stiff day, albeit we only +“made good” some sixteen miles at most. +</p> + +<p> +<i>June</i> 20.—A brilliant morning saw us off for Pahlgam, along a road +which was simply a glorified garden. Roses white and roses pink in wild +profusion, jasmin both white and yellow, wild indigo, a tall and very handsome +spiraea, forget-me-not, a tiny sort of Michaelmas daisy, wild strawberry, and +honeysuckle, among many a (to me unknown) blossom, clothed the hillside or +drooped over the bank of the clear stream, by whose flower-spangled margin lay +our path, where, as in Milton’s description of Eden, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Each beauteous flower,<br/> +Iris all hues, roses, and jessamine<br/> +Reared high their flourished heads.” +</p> + +<p> +Soon the valley narrowed, and closer on our left roared the Lidar, foaming over +its boulders in wild haste to find peace and tranquil flow in the broad bosom +of Jhelum. +</p> + +<p> +The road became somewhat hilly, and at one steep zigzag the nerves of Jane +failed her slightly and she dismounted, rightly judging that a false step on +the part of the cream-coloured courser would be followed by a hurried descent +into the Lidar. I explained to her that I would certainly do what I could for +her with a dredge in the Wular when I came down, but she preferred, she said, +not to put me to any inconvenience in the matter. We were asked to subscribe, a +few days later, at Pahlgam to provide the postman with a new pony, his late +lamented “Tattoo” having been startled by a flash of lightning at +that very spot, and having paid for the error with his life. +</p> + +<p> +A halt was called for lunch under a blue pine, where we quickly discovered how +paltry its shade is in comparison with the generous screen cast by a chenar; +scarcely has the heated traveller picked out a seemingly umbrageous spot to +recline upon when, lo! a flickering shaft of sunlight, broken into an +irritating dazzle by a quivering bunch of pine needles, strikes him in the eye, +and he sets to work to crawl vainly around in search of a better screen. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing approaches the great circle of solid coolness thrown by a big chenar. +The walnut does its best, and comes in a good second. Pines (especially blue +ones) are, as I remarked before, unsatisfactory. +</p> + +<p> +But if the pine is not all that can be wished as a shade-producer, he is in all +his varieties a beautiful object to look upon. First, I think, in point of +magnificence towers the Himalayan spruce, rearing his gaunt shaft, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Like the mast of some tall ammiral,” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +from the shelving steeps that overhang the torrents, and piercing high into the +blue. In living majesty he shares the honours with the deodar, but he is merely +good to look upon; his timber is useless and in his decay his fallen and +lightning-blasted remains lie rotting on these wild hills, while the precious +trunks of the deodar and the excelsa are laboriously collected, and floated and +dragged to the lower valleys, producing much good money to Sir Amar Singh and +the best of building timber to the purchaser. +</p> + +<p> +The road towards Pahlgam is a charming woodland walk, where the wild +strawberries, still hardly out of flower, grow thick amidst a tangle of +chestnut, yew, wild cherry, and flowering shrubs. Overhead and to the right the +rocky steeps rise abruptly until they culminate in the crags of Kohinar, and on +the left the snow-fed Lidar roars “through the cloven ravine in cataract +after cataract.” +</p> + +<p> +About four miles from Pahlgam, on turning a corner of the gorge, a splendid +view bursts upon the wayfarer. The great twin brethren of Kolahoi come suddenly +into sight, where they stand blocking the head of the valley, their double +peaks shining with everlasting snow. +</p> + +<p> +It needed all the beauty of the scene to make me forget that the thirteen miles +from Eshmakam were long and hot, and that I was woefully out of condition, and +we rejoiced to see the gleam of tents amid the pine-wood which constitutes the +camping-ground of Pahlgam. +</p> + +<p> +We sat peacefully on the thyme and clover-covered maiden, amongst a herd of +happily browsing cattle, until our tents were up and the irritating but needful +bustle of arrival was over, and the tea-table spread. +</p> + +<p> +Pahlgam stands some 2000 feet above Srinagar, and although it is not supposed +to be bracing, yet to us, jaded votaries of fashion in stuffy Srinagar, the +fresh, clear, pine-scented air was purely delightful, and a couple of days saw +us “like kidlings blythe and merry”—that is to say, as much +so as a couple of sedate middle-aged people could reasonably be expected to +appear. The camping-ground is in a wood of blue pines, which, extending from +the steeper uplands, covers much of the leveller valley, and abuts with woody +promontories on the flowery strath which borders the river. Here some dozen or +so of visitors had already selected little clearings, and the flicker of white +tents, the squealing of ponies, and the jabber of native servants banished all +ideas of loneliness. +</p> + +<p> +About half a mile below the camping-ground is the bungalow of Colonel Ward, +clear of the wood and with Kolahoi just showing over the green shoulder which +hides him from Pahlgam. I was fortunate enough to find the Colonel before he +left for Datchgam to meet the Residency party, and to get, through his +kindness, certain information which I wanted about the birds of Kashmir. +</p> + +<p> +An enthusiast in natural history, Colonel Ward has given himself with +heart-whole devotion for many years to the study of the beasts and birds of +Kashmir, and he is practically the one and only authority on the subject. +</p> + +<p> +We were very anxious to cross the high pass above Lidarwat over into the Sind +Valley, having arranged to meet the Smithsons at Gangabal on their way back +from Tilail. Knowing that Colonel Ward would be posted as to the state of the +snow, I had written to him from Srinagar for information. His reply, which I +got at Islamabad, was not encouraging, nor was his opinion altered now. The +pass might be possible, but was certainly not advisable for ladies at present. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Friday, June 23</i>.—We were detained here at Pahlgam until about one +o’clock to-day, as Colonel Ward, as well as two minor potentates, had +marched yesterday, employing every available coolie. The fifteen whom I +required were sent back to me by the Colonel, and turned up about noon, so, +after lunch, we set forth. +</p> + +<p> +Camels are usually unwilling starters. I knew one who never could be induced to +do his duty until a fire had been lit under him as a gentle stimulant. He lived +in Suakin, and existence was one long grievance to him, but no other animal +with which I am acquainted approaches a Pahlgam coolie in <i>vis inertiâ</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Whether a too copious lunch had rendered my men torpid, or whether the +attractions of their happy homes drew them, I know not, but after the loads +(and these not heavy) had been, after much wrangling, bound upon their backs, +and they had limped along for a few hundred yards or so, one fell sick, or said +he was sick, and, peacefully squatting on a convenient stone, refused to budge. +</p> + +<p> +We were still close to some of the scattered huts of Pahlgam, so an authority, +in the shape of a lumbadhar or chowkidar, or some such, came to our help, and +promptly collected for us an elderly gentleman who was tending his flocks and +herds in the vicinity. Doubtless it was provoking, when he was looking forward +to a comfortable afternoon tea in the bosom of his family, after a hard +day’s work of doing nothing, to be called upon to carry a nasty angular +yakdan for seven miles along a distinctly uneven road; but was he therefore +justified in blubbering like a baby, and behaving like an ape being led to +execution? +</p> + +<p> +The first half-mile was dreadful. At every couple of hundred yards the coolies +would sit down in a bunch, groaning and crying, and nothing less than a push or +a thump would induce them to move. We felt like slave-drivers, and indeed Sabz +Ali and the shikari behaved as such, although their prods and objurgations were +not so hurtful as they appeared, being somewhat after the fashion of the tale +told by an idiot, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +Presently we became so much irritated by the ceaseless row that we decided to +sit down and read and sketch by the roadside, in order to let the whole +mournful train pass out of sight and earshot. +</p> + +<p> +Now, I wish to maintain in all seriousness that I am not a Legree, and that, +although I by no means hold the “man and brother” theory, yet I am +perfectly prepared to respect the <i>droits de l’homme</i>. +</p> + +<p> +This may appear a statement inconsistent with my acknowledgment that I +permitted coolies to be beaten—the beating being no more than a technical +“assault,” and never a “thrashing!”—but my +contention is that when you have to deal with people of so low an organisation +that they can only be reached by elementary arguments, they must be treated +absolutely as children, and judiciously whacked as such. +</p> + +<p> +No Kashmiri without the impulsion of <i>force majeure</i> would ever do any +work—no logical argument will enable him to see ultimate good in +immediate irksomeness. +</p> + +<p> +It is very difficult for the Western mind to give the Kashmiri credit for any +virtues, his failings being so conspicuous and repellent; for not only is he an +outrageous coward, but he feels no shame in admitting his cowardice. He is a +most accomplished thief, and the truth is not in him. He and his are much +fouler than Neapolitan lazzaroni, and his morals—well, let us give the +Kashmiri his due, and turn to his virtues. He is, on the whole, cheerful and +lively, devoted to children, and kind to animals.[1] +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[1] This is incorrect, the European Residents having frequently attempted, but +hitherto vainly, to induce the native authorities to curb Kashmiri cruelty. +</p> + +<p> +Here is a story which is fairly characteristic of the charming Kashmiri. +</p> + +<p> +During the floods which nearly ruined Kashmir in 1901, a village near a certain +colonel’s bungalow was in danger of losing all its crops and half its +houses, the neighbouring river being in spate. My friend, on going to see if +anything could be done, found the water rising, and the adult male inhabitants +of the village lying upon the ground, and beating their heads and hands upon it +in woebegone impotence. +</p> + +<p> +He walked about upon their stomachs a little to invigorate them, and, sending +forthwith for a gang of coolies from an adjacent village which lay a little +higher, he set the whole crowd to work to divert part of the stream by means of +driftwood and damming, and was, in the end, able to save the houses and a good +part of the crops. +</p> + +<p> +When the hired coolies came to be paid for their labour, the villagers also put +in a claim for wages, and were desperately vexed at my friend’s refusal +to grant it, complaining bitterly of having had to work hard for nothing! +</p> + +<p> +You will find a good description of the Kashmiri in <i>All’s Well that +Ends Well:</i>— +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<i>Parolles</i>. He will steal, sir, an egg out of a cloister…. He professes +not keeping of oaths, in breaking them, he is stronger than Hercules. He will +lie, sir, with such volubility, that you would think truth were a fool: +drunkenness is his best virtue; … he has everything that an honest man should +not have; what an honest man should have, he has nothing. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="letter"> +He excels his brother for a coward, yet his brother is reputed one of the best +that is: in a retreat he outruns any lackey; marry, in coming on he has the +cramp. +</p> + +<p> +We had not long sat sketching and basking in the genial glow of a summer +afternoon among the mountains, when it began to be borne in upon us that the +weather was going to change, and that the usual thunderstorm was meditating a +descent upon us. Black clouds came boiling up over the mountain peaks, and the +too familiar grumble of distant thunder sent us hurrying along the lovely +ravine, through which the path leads to Aru. Only a seven miles’ journey, +but ere we had gone half-way the storm broke, and a thick veil of sweeping rain +fell between us and the surrounding mountains. +</p> + +<p> +Presently we found a serious solution of continuity in the track, which, after +leading us along a precarious ledge by the side of the river, finished +abruptly; sheared clean off by a recent landslip. +</p> + +<p> +We were very wet, but the river looked wetter still, and it boiled round the +rocky point, where the road should have been but was not, in a distinctly +disagreeable manner. +</p> + +<p> +However, Jane dismounting, I climbed upon the cream-coloured courser, and +proceeded to ford the gap. The water swirled well above the syce’s knees, +but the noble steed picked his way with the greatest circumspection over and +among the submerged boulders, till, after splashing through some hundred yards +of water, he deposited me, not much wetter than before, on the continuation of +the high-road, whence I had the satisfaction of watching Jane go through the +same performance. +</p> + +<p> +Hoping against hope that the coolies, by a little haste, might have got the +tents pitched before the storm came on, we plodded on, until, wet to the very +skin, we slopped into Aru, to behold a draggled party squatting round a central +floppy heap in a wet field, which, as we gazed, slowly upreared itself into a +drooping tent. +</p> + +<p> +In dear old England this sort of experience would have spelt shocking colds, +and probably rheumatism for life, but here—well, we crawled into our tent +and found it, thanks to a couple of waterproof sheets spread on the ground, +surprisingly dry. A change of clothes, a good dinner, produced under the most +unfavourable circumstances from a wretched little cooking-tent, and a fire +burning goodness knows how, in the open, showed the world to be quite a nice +place after all. +</p> + +<p> +After dinner a great camp-fire was lit in front of our tent, the rain cleared +off, and I sat smoking with much content, while all our soaking garments were +festooned on branches round the blaze, and Jane and I turned them like roasting +joints, at intervals, until the steam rose like incense towards the stars. +</p> + +<p> +The coolies, too, had quite got over their homesickness, and were +extraordinarily cheerful, their incessant jabber falling as a lullaby on our +ears as we dropped off to sleep. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Saturday, June</i> 24.—We got away in good time for our short +eight-mile march to Lidarwat. The coolies went off gaily—the day was warm +and brilliant, and the views down the valley towards Pahlgam superb. +</p> + +<p> +We had camped on the low ground at Aru, just across the bridge, but about half +a mile on, and upon a grassy plateau there is an ideal camping-ground facing +down the Lidar Valley, towards the peaks which rise behind Pahlgam. Want of +water is the only drawback to this spot, but if mussiks are carried, water can +easily be brought from a small nullah towards Lidarwat. +</p> + +<p> +Tearing ourselves away from this spot, and turning our backs upon one of the +most gorgeous views in Kashmir, we plunged into a beautiful wood. Maidenhair +and many another fern grew in masses among the great roots which twined like +snakes over the rocky slopes. Far below, with muffled roar, the unseen river +tore its downward way. +</p> + +<p> +By-and-by, the path emerging from the wood shelved along a green hillside, +where bracken and golden spurge clothed the little hollows, while wild +wall-flower, Jacob’s Ladder, and a large purple cranes-bill brightened +the slopes where happy cattle, but lately released from their winter’s +imprisonment, were feeding greedily on the young green grass. +</p> + +<p> +I fancy the cattle have a remarkably poor time here in winter. Hay is not made, +and very little winter forage seems to be collected. As the snows fall lower on +the hills, the flocks and herds are driven down to the low ground, where they +drag through the dark days as best they can, on maize-stalks and such like. +</p> + +<p> +I noticed early in May the water buffaloes just turned out to graze in the +Lolab, and more weakly, melancholy collections of skin—and—bone I +have seldom seen. +</p> + +<p> +Now, however, up high in every sunny grassy valley, the Gujars may be found +camping with their flocks—cattle, ponies, buffaloes, and goats, working +upwards hard on the track of the receding snow, where the primula and the +gentian star the spring turf. +</p> + +<p> +A series of grassy uplands brought us close to Lidarwat, when a sharp shower, +arriving unexpectedly from nowhere in particular, sent us to eat our lunch +under the shelter of some fairly waterproof trees in the company of a herd of +water buffaloes of especially evil aspect. +</p> + +<p> +One hoary brute in particular, with enormous horns and pale blue eyes, made me +think of the legend concerning the origin of the buffalo. +</p> + +<p> +When the Almighty was hard at work creating the animals, the devil came and +looked on until he became filled with emulation, and begged the Deity to let +him try his hand at creation. So the Almighty agreed, asking him what beast he +would prefer to make, and he said, “A cow.” So he went away and +created a water buffalo, which so disgusted the Creator that the devil was not +permitted to make any more experiments. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as the rain held up and the thunder had rolled off up the valley, we +packed the tiffin basket, had one more drink from an icy spring, and left the +shelter of the friendly trees, followed by the glares of all the buffaloes, who +appear to have a decided antipathy to the “sahib logue.” +</p> + +<p> +We soon came to Lidarwat, passing several tents there, pitched by the edge of a +green lawn, and sheltered by a deep belt of trees. Crossing to the right bank +of the river by the usual rickety bridge, we continued our way, as the farther +up the glen we get to-night, the less shall we leave for to-morrow, when we +intend to visit the Kolahoi Glacier. +</p> + +<p> +The cream-coloured courser nearly wrecked my Kashmir holiday at this point, +owing to the silly dislike of white folk which he possesses in common with the +buffaloes. As I was incautiously handing Jane her beloved parasol, he whisked +round and let out at me, and I was only saved from a nasty kick by my closeness +to the beast, whose hock made such an impression upon my thigh as to cause me +to go a bit short for a while. +</p> + +<p> +We camped in rather a moist-looking place, where the wood begins to show signs +of finishing, and the slopes fall steep and bare to the river. +</p> + +<p> +A rather rank and weedy undergrowth was not inviting, and was strongly +suggestive of dampness and rheumatism. It was fairly chilly, too, at night, as +our camp was some 11,000 feet above the sea, and the little breezes that came +sighing through the pines were straight from the snow. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sunday, June 25</i>.—A most glorious morning saw us start early for an +expedition to the Kolahoi Glacier. The sombre ravine in which we were camped +amid the pines lay still in a mysterious blue haze, but the sun had already +caught the snow-streaked mountain-tops to our left, and gilded their rugged +sides with a swiftly descending mantle of warmth and light. +</p> + +<p> +A very fine waterfall came tumbling down a wooded chasm on our right, and as +fine waterfalls are scarce in Kashmir we stopped for some time to admire it +duly. +</p> + +<p> +The track now led out into a wide and treeless valley, flanked by snow-crowned +mountains, and we pushed on merrily until we arrived at the brink of a rascally +torrent, which gave us some trouble to ford, being both exceeding swift and +fairly deep. Luckily, it was greedy, and, not content with one channel, had +spread itself out into four or five branches, and thus so squandered itself +that Jane on her pony and I on coolie-back accomplished the passage without +mishap. For some miles we held on along an easy path which curved to the right +along the right bank of the river, which was spanned in many places by great +snow bridges, often hundreds of yards in width. We lunched sitting on the trunk +of a dead birch which had been carried by the snow down from its eyrie, and +then left, a melancholy skeleton, bleaching on the slowly melting avalanche. +Some two miles farther on we could see the end of the Kolahoi Glacier, its grey +and rock-strewn snout standing abrupt above the white slopes of snow. +</p> + +<p> +Behind rose the fine peak of Harbagwan, in as yet undisputed splendour, Kolahoi +being still hidden behind the cliffs which towered on our right. +</p> + +<p> +Distances seem short in this brilliant air, but we walked for a long while over +the short turf, flushing crimson with primulas and golden with small +buttercups, and then over snowy hillocks, before we reached the solid ice of +the great glacier. +</p> + +<p> +It was so completely covered with fragments of grey rock that Jane could hardly +he persuaded that it really was an ice slope that we were scrambling up with +such difficulty, until a peep into a cold mysterious cleft convinced her that +she was really and truly standing upon 200 feet of solid ice. +</p> + +<p> +The sight that now burst upon us was one to be remembered. Kolahoi towered +ethereal—a sunlit wedge of sheer rock some six thousand feet above +us—into the crystal air. From his feet the white frozen billows of the +great glacier rolled, a glistering sea, to where we, atoms in the enormous +loneliness, stood breathless in admiration. Around the head of the wide +amphitheatre wherein we stood rose a circle of stately peaks, their bases +flanged with rocky buttresses, dark amid the long sweeps of radiant snow, their +shattered peaks reared high into the very heavens. A great silence reigned. +There was no wind with us, and yet, even as we watched, a white cloud flitted +past the virgin peak of Kolahoi—ghostly, intangible; and immediately, +even as vultures assemble suddenly, no one knows whence, so did the clouds +appear, surging over the gleaming shoulders of the mountain ridges, and up and +round the grim precipices. We turned and hurried down the face of the glacier, +and made for camp, as we knew from much experience that a thunderstorm was +inevitable. +</p> + +<p> +Over the beds of dirty snow, down by the side of the new-born torrent, which +leaped full-grown to life from the womb of a green cavern below the glacier; +over patches of pulpy turf just freed from its wintry bondage, and already +carpeted with masses of rose-coloured primulas, we hastened, keeping to the +left bank of the stream, in order to avoid the torrent which had so troubled us +in the morning, which we knew would be deeper in the afternoon owing to the +melting of the snows in the sunshine. +</p> + +<p> +We had got but a bare half of our journey done when the storm burst, and in a +very short time we were reduced to the recklessness which comes of being as wet +as you can possibly be. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + “The thunder bellows far from snow to snow<br/> +(Home, Rose and Home, Provence and La Palie),<br/> + And loud and louder roars the flood below.<br/> +Heigho! But soon in shelter we shall be<br/> +(Home, Rose and Home, Provence and La Palie).” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Crossing the river on a big snow-bridge below the point where our old enemy +came thundering down the mountain-side, we tramped gaily through mud and mire +and over slippery rocks until we were gladdened by the sight of our camp, +dripping away peacefully in the midst of the weeping forest. +</p> + +<p> +The rain, as usual, ceased in the evening. A great camp-fire was lit, and the +neighbouring buffaloes of Gujar-Kote having kindly supplied us with milk, we +dined wisely and well and dropped off to sleep, lulled by the roaring of the +Kolahoi River, which raced through the darkness close by. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tuesday, June 27</i>.—Being still hopeful of achieving the pass over +into the Sind, we struck camp early yesterday and marched down to Lidarwat, +only to find that the party which we knew had camped there with a view to +crossing, had given up the idea and retreated down the valley; so I sent a +swift messenger to countermand the three days’ supply of +“rassad” which I had ordered from Pahlgam for my men, and we +marched on to Aru. Upon the spur which overlooks Aru we found Dr. Neve +encamped, and proceeded to discuss the possibility of crossing into the Sind +Valley <i>viâ</i> Sekwas, Khem Sar, and Koolan. The Doctor, who is an +enterprising mountaineer, was himself about to cross, but he did not encourage +Jane to go and do likewise, as he said it would be very difficult owing to the +late spring, and would probably entail a good deal of work with ropes and +ice-axes. +</p> + +<p> +This absolutely decided us, our valour being greatly tempered by discretion, +and we camped quietly at Aru, and came on into Pahlgam this forenoon. The +river, for some reason best known to itself, was so low that we got dry-shod +past the corner which had worried us so much on the way up. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap11"></a>CHAPTER XI<br/> +GANGABAL</h2> + +<p> +Friday, <i>June</i> 30.—The last few days have been somewhat uneventful. +We left Pahlgam at early dawn on Wednesday, just as the first lemon-coloured +light was spreading in the east over the pine-serrated heights above the camp. +</p> + +<p> +The rapids below Colonel Ward’s bungalow, which had been fierce and +swollen as we passed them on our upward way, were now reduced to roaring after +the subdued fashion of the sucking dove; so we hardly paused to contemplate +either them or the big boulder, red-stained and holy, at Ganesbal, but hastened +on to the point where, just before turning a high bluff which shuts him from +sight for the last time, we got the view of Kolahoi, with the newly-risen sun +glowing on his upper slopes. An hour flew by much too fast, and it was with +great reluctance that we finally turned our back on the finest part of the +Lidar Valley, and sadly resumed our march to Sellar, crossing the river and +following a rather hot and dull road. Sellar itself is not nearly as pretty as +Eshmakam, and we grew rather tired of it by evening, as we arrived soon after +one o’clock, and found little to do or see. +</p> + +<p> +Yesterday we left Sellar and marched to Bejbehara, the hottest and dullest +march I know of in Kashmir. A shadeless road slopes gently down across the +plains to the river. All along this road we overtook parties of coolies laden +with creels of silk cocoons, whose destination is the big silk factory at +Srinagar, small clouds of hot red dust rising into the still air, knocked up by +the shuffling tread of their grass-shod feet. +</p> + +<p> +In the fields, dry and burnt to our eyes after the green valleys, squatted the +reapers, snipping the sparse ears, apparently one by one, with sickles like +penknives. They seemed to get the work done somehow, as little sheafs laid in +rows bore witness; but the patience of Job must have been upon them! +</p> + +<p> +The chenars of Bejbehara threw a most welcome shade from the noonday sun, which +was striking down with evil force as we panted across the steamy rice-fields +which surround them. +</p> + +<p> +Hither we came at noon, only to find that our boats were not awaiting us as we +had directed. A messenger bearing bitter words was promptly despatched to root +the lazy scoundrels out from Islamabad, while Jane and I camped out beneath a +huge tree and lunched, worked, and sketched until four o’clock, when the +Admiral brought the fleet in and fondly deemed his day’s work done. +</p> + +<p> +This was by no means our view of the case, and the usual trouble +began—“No coolies”—“Very +late”—“Plenty tired,” &c. &c. +</p> + +<p> +Of course Satarah was defeated, and was soon to be seen sulkily poling away in +the stern-sheets, while his son-in-law still more sulkily paddled in the bow. +</p> + +<p> +We made about eight or ten miles, having a swift current under us, before a +strong squall came up the valley, making the old ark slue about prodigiously, +and inducing us to tie up for the night. +</p> + +<p> +This morning we slipped down stream to Srinagar, only halting for a short while +to obtain some of the native bread for which Pampur is celebrated. +</p> + +<p> +The river seemed exceedingly hot and stuffy after the lovely air which we have +been breathing lately, and we quite determined that the sooner we get out of +the valley the better for our pleasure, if not for our health. +</p> + +<p> +We have been greatly exercised as to how best dispose of the time until +September, for, during the months of July and August, the heat in the valley is +very considerable, and every one seeks the higher summer retreats. The +Smithsons suggested an expedition to Leh, which would, undoubtedly, have been a +most interesting trip, but which would in no wise have spared us in the matter +of heat. Had we started about this time for Leh we should have reached our +destination towards the end of July, and would therefore have found ourselves +setting out again across an arid and extremely hot country on the return +journey somewhere about the middle of August. +</p> + +<p> +The game did not seem to be worth the candle, and the Smithsons themselves +shied at the idea when it was borne in upon them that there would be little or +no shooting to be done <i>en route</i>. +</p> + +<p> +The alternatives seemed to lie between Gulmarg, where most of the beauty and +fashion of Kashmir disports itself during the hot weather, Sonamarg, and +Pahlgam. +</p> + +<p> +Sonamarg, from description, seemed likely to be quiet, not to say dull, as a +residence for two months. One cannot live by scenery alone, and even the +loveliest may become <i>toujours pâté de l’anguille.</i> +</p> + +<p> +Pahlgam suffered in our eyes from the same failing, and our thoughts turned to +Gulmarg. Here, however, a difficulty arose. It is a notoriously wet place. We +heard horrid tales of golf enthusiasts playing in waders, and of revellers half +drowned while returning from dinners in neighbouring tents. +</p> + +<p> +We thought of rooms in Nedou’s Hotel, but our memories of this hostelry +in Srinagar were not altogether sweet, and we did not in the least hanker after +a second edition; moreover, every available room had been engaged long ago, and +it was extremely doubtful, to say the least of it, if the good Mr. Nedou could +do anything for us. The prospect of a two-month sojourn in a wet tent wherein +no fire could ever be lighted, and in which Jane pictured her frocks and smart +hats lying in their boxes all crumpled and shorn of their dainty freshness, was +far from enticing! +</p> + +<p> +Tent existence, when one lives the simple life far from the madding crowd, clad +in puttoo and shooting-boots, or grass shoes, is delightful; but tent life in +the midst of a round of society functions—golf, polo, with their +attendant teas and dinners—was not to be thought of without grave +misgiving. +</p> + +<p> +Sorely perplexed, and almost at our wits’ end, the Gordian knot was cut +by our being offered a small hut which had been occupied by a clerk in the +State employ, now absent, and which the Resident most kindly placed at our +disposal for a merely nominal rent. Needless to say we gratefully accepted the +offer, in spite of the assurance that the hut was of very minute dimensions. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sunday, July</i> 2.—Yesterday we toiled hard in the heat to get +everything in train for a move to Gulmarg. Subhana, that excellent tailor and +embroiderer, arranged to have all our heavy luggage sent up to meet us on the +10th, and from him, too, we arranged for the hire of such furniture as we might +require, for we knew that the hut was bare as the cupboard of nursery fame. +</p> + +<p> +This morning we set off down the river to keep tryst with the Smithsons at +Gangabal, where we hope to meet them about the 5th on their way back from +Tilail. The usual struggle with the crew resulted, also as usual, in our +favour, and we got right through to Gunderbal at the mouth of the Sind River, +where we now lie amid a flotilla of boats whose occupiers have fled away from +the sultriness and smelliness of Srinagar in search of the cool currents, both +of air and water, which are popularly supposed to flow down the Sind. +</p> + +<p> +As Jane and I returned from a visit to the post-office along a sweltering path +among the rice-fields, from which warm waves of air rose steaming into the +sunset, we failed to observe the celebrated and superior coolness of +Gunderbal’ +</p> + +<p> +<i>Thursday, July</i> 6.—The lumbadhar of Gunderbal, in spite of his +magnificent name, is a rascal of the deepest dye. He put much water in our +milk, to the furious disgust of Sabz Ali, and he failed to provide the coolies +I had ordered; I therefore reported him to Chattar Singh, and sent my +messengers forth, like another Lars Porsena, to catch coolies. +</p> + +<p> +This was early on Tuesday morning, and a sufficient number of ponies and +coolies having been got together by 5.30, we started. +</p> + +<p> +I may here note that, owing to a confusion between <i>Gunderbal</i> (the port, +so to speak, of the Sind Valley, and route to Leh and Thibet) and +<i>Gangabal</i>, a lake lying some 12,000 feet above the sea behind Haramok, +our arrangement to meet the Smithsons at Gangabal was altered by a letter from +them announcing their imminent arrival at Gunderbal! This was perturbing, but +as the mistake was not ours, we decided not to allow ourselves to be baulked of +a trip for which we had surrendered an expedition to Shisha Nag, beyond +Pahlgam. +</p> + +<p> +The lower part of the Sind Valley is in nowise interesting; the way was both +tedious and hot, and we rejoiced greatly when, having crossed the Sind River, +we found a lovely spring and halted for tiffin. After an hour’s rest we +followed the main road a little farther, and then, passing the mouth of the +Chittagul Nullah, turned up the Wangat Valley. The scenery became finer, and +the last hour’s march along a steep mountain-side, with the Wangat River +far below on our right, was a great improvement on what we had left behind us. +</p> + +<p> +The little village of Wangat, perched upon a steep spur above the river, was +woefully deficient of anything like a good camping-ground. We finally selected +a small bare rice patch, which, though extremely “knubbly,” had the +merits of being almost level, moderately remote from the village and its +smells, and quite close to a perfect spring. +</p> + +<p> +Yesterday we achieved a really early start, leaving Wangat at 4.15, the path +being weirdly illuminated by extempore torches made of pine-wood which the +shikari had prepared. A moderately level march of some three miles brought us +to the ruined temples of Vernag and the beginning of our work, for here the +path, turning sharply to the left, led us inexorably up the almost precipitous +face of the mountain by means of short zigzags. +</p> + +<p> +It was a stiff pull. The sun was now peering triumphantly over the hills on the +far side of the valley, and the path was (an extraordinary thing in Kashmir) +excessively dusty. Up and on we panted, Jane partly supported by having the +bight of the shikari’s puggaree round her waist while he towed her by the +ends. +</p> + +<p> +There was no relaxation of the steep gradient, no water, and no shade, and the +height to be surmounted was 4000 feet. +</p> + +<p> +If the longest lane has a turning, so the highest hill has a top, and we came +at last to the blissful point where the path deigned to assume an approach to +the horizontal, and led us to the most delightful spring in Kashmir! The water, +ice-cold and clear, gushes out of a crevice in the rock, and with the joy of +wandering Israelites we threw ourselves on the ground, basked in the glorious +mountain air, and shouted for the tiffin basket. +</p> + +<p> +Only the faithful “Yellow Bag” was forthcoming, the tiffin coolie +being still “hull down,” and from its varied contents we extracted +the only edibles, apricots and rock cakes. +</p> + +<p> +Never have we enjoyed any meal more than that somewhat light breakfast, washed +down by water which was a pure joy to drink. +</p> + +<p> +Alas! There were but two rock cakes apiece! Another half-hour’s clamber, +along a pretty rough track, brought us to a point whence we looked down a long +green slope to our destination, Tronkol—a few Gujar huts, indistinct +amidst a clump of very ancient birch-trees, standing out as a sort of oasis +among the bare and boulder-strewn slopes. +</p> + +<p> +The view was superb. To the right, the mountain-side fell steeply to where, in +the depths of the Wangat Nullah, a tiny white thread marked the river foaming +4000 feet below, and beyond rose a jagged range of spires and pinnacles, snow +lying white at the bases of the dark precipices. “These are the savage +wilds” which bar the route from the Wangat into Tilail and the Upper +Sind. +</p> + +<p> +Over Tronkol, bare uplands, rising wave above wave, shut out the view of +Gangabal and the track over into the Erin Nullah and down to Bandipur. +</p> + +<p> +On our left towered the bastions of Haramok, his snow-crowned head rising +grimly into the clear blue sky. +</p> + +<p> +We pitched our camp at Tronkol about two o’clock, on a green level some +little way beyond the Gujar huts, and just above a stream which picked its +riotous way along a bed of enormous boulders, sheltered to a certain extent by +a fringe of hoary birches. +</p> + +<p> +We had never beheld such great birches as these, many of them, alas! mere +skeletons of former grandeur, whose whitening limbs speak eloquently of a +hundred years of ceaseless struggle with storm and tempest. +</p> + +<p> +I saw no young ones springing up to replace these dying warriors. The Gujars +and their buffaloes probably prevent any youthful green thing from growing. It +seems a pity. +</p> + +<p> +Towards evening we observed baggage ponies approaching, and at the sight we +felt aggrieved; for, in our colossal selfishness, we fancied that Tronkol was +ours, and ours alone. A small tent was pitched, and presently to our surly eyes +appeared a lonely lady, who proceeded solemnly to play Patience in front of it +while her dinner was being got ready. +</p> + +<p> +A visit of ceremony, and an invitation to share our “irishystoo” +and camp-fire, brought Mrs. Locock across, and we made the acquaintance of a +lady well known for her prowess as a shikari throughout Kashmir— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“There hunted ‘she’ the walrus, the narwal, and the +seal.<br/> + Ah! ’twas a noble game,<br/> + And, like the lightning’s flame;<br/> +Flew our harpoons of steel” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +I cannot resist the quotation, but I do not really think Mrs. Locock hunts +walruses in Kashmir, and I know she doesn’t use a harpoon. No matter, she +proved a cheery and delightful companion, and we entirely forgave her for +coming to Tronkol and poaching on our preserves. +</p> + +<p> +We were extremely amused at the surprise she expressed at Jane’s feat in +climbing from Wangat. Evidently Jane’s reputation is not that of a +bullock-workman in Srinagar! +</p> + +<p> +This morning we all three went to see Lake Gangabal. An easy path leads over +some three or four miles of rolling down to our destination, which is one of a +whole chain of lakes—or rather tarns—which lie under the northern +slopes of Haramok. +</p> + +<p> +We came first upon a small piece of water, lying blue and still in the morning +sun, and from which a noisy stream poured forth its glacier water. This we had +a good deal of trouble in crossing, the ladies being borne on the broad backs +of coolies, in attitudes more quaint than graceful. A second and deeper stream +being safely forded, we climbed a low ridge to find Gangabad stretched before +us—a smooth plane of turquoise blue and pale icy green, beneath the dark +ramparts of Haramok, whose “eagle-baffling” crags and glittering +glaciers rose six thousand sheer feet above. In the foreground the earth, still +brown, and only just released from its long winter covering of snow, bore +masses of small golden ranunculus and rose-hued primulas. +</p> + +<p> +An extraordinary sense of silence and solitude filled one—no birds or +beasts were visible, and only the tinkle of tiny rills running down to the +lake, and the distant clamour of the infant river, broke, or rather +accentuated, the loneliness of the scene. +</p> + +<p> +We had brought breakfast with us, and after eating it we made haste to recross +the two rivers, because, troublesome as they were to ford in the morning, they +would certainly grow worse with every hour of ice-melting sunshine. +</p> + +<p> +Once more on the camp side, however, we strolled along in leisurely mood, +staying to lunch on top of the ridge overlooking Tronkol. I left the ladies +then to find their leisurely way back among the flowery hollows, and made for a +peak overlooking the head of the Chittagul Nullah. A sharp climb up broken +rocks and over snow slopes brought me to the top, a point some 13,500 feet +above the sea. In front of me Haramok, seamed with snow-filled gullies, still +towered far above; immediately below, the saddle—brown, bare earth, +snow-streaked—divided the Chittagul Nullah from Tronkol. Far away down +the valley the Sind River gleamed like a silver thread in the afternoon light, +and beyond, the Wular lay a pale haze in the distance. +</p> + +<p> +To the northward rose the fantastic range of peaks that overhang the Wangat +gorge, and almost below my feet, at a depth of some 1500 feet, lay a sombre +lakelet, steely dark and still, in the shadow of the ridge upon which I sat. +</p> + +<p> +The sun was going down fast into a fleecy bed of clouds, amid which I knew that +Nanga Parbat lay swathed from sight. To see that mountain monarch had been the +chief object of my climb, so, recognising that the sight of him was a hope +deferred, I made haste to scramble down to the tarn below, stopping here and +there to fill my pith hat with wild rhubarb, and to pick or admire the new and +always fascinating wild flowers as I passed. Large-flowered, white anemones; +tiny gentian, with vivid small blue blossoms; loose-flowered, purple primulas, +and many strange and novel blossoms starred the grassy patches, or filled the +rocky crevices with abundant beauty. +</p> + +<p> +By the lake side the moisture-loving, rose-coloured primula reappeared in +masses, and as I followed down its outgoing stream towards the camp, I waded +through a tangle of columbine, white and blue; a great purple salvia, arnica, +and a profusion of varied flowers in rampant bloom. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Saturday, July</i> 8.—An early start homewards yesterday, in the cold +dawn, rewarded us by the sight of the first beams of the rising sun lighting up +the threefold head of Haramok with an unspeakable glory, as we crossed the open +boulder-strewn uplands, before descending into the nullah, which lay below us +still wrapped in a mysterious purple haze. The downward zigzags, with their +uncompromising steepness, proved almost as tiring as the ascent had been, and +we were more than ready for breakfast by the time we reached the ruined temples +of Vernag. +</p> + +<p> +These temples, built probably about the beginning of the eighth century, are, +like all the others which I have seen in Kashmir, small, and somewhat +uninteresting, except to the archaeologist. They consist, invariably, of a +“cella” containing the object of veneration, the lingam, surmounted +by a high-pitched conical stone roof. In structure they show apparently signs +of Greek influence in the doorways, and the triangular pediments above them. +Phallic worship would seem to have been always confined to these temples, with +ophiolatry—the nagas or water-snake deities being accommodated in sacred +tanks, in the midst of which the early Kashmir temples were usually placed. +</p> + +<p> +Any one who wishes to study the temple architecture of Kashmir cannot do better +than read Fergusson’s <i>Indian Architecture</i>, wherein he will find +all the information he wants. +</p> + +<p> +To the ordinary “man in the street” the ancient buildings of +Kashmir do not appeal, either by their aesthetic value or by the dignity of +size. Martand, the greatest, and probably the finest, both in point of grandeur +and of situation, I regret to say, I did not see; but the temples at Bhanyar, +Pandrettan, and Wangat resemble one another closely in design and general +insignificance. The position of the Wangat ruins, embosomed in the wild tangle +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Of a steep wilderness, whose airy sides<br/> +With thicket overgrown, grotesque and wild,<br/> +Access denied; and overhead up grew<br/> +Insuperable height of loftiest shade,<br/> +Cedar, and pine, and fir,” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +and seated at the base of a solemn circle of mountains, gives the group of +tottering shrines a picturesqueness and importance which I cannot concede that +they would otherwise have had. +</p> + +<p> +I do not remember ever to have seen it noted that all buildings which are +impressive by the mere majesty of size are to be found in plains and not in +mountainous countries. This is probably due to two causes. The one being the +denser population of the fat plains, whereby a greater concourse of builders +and of worshippers would be sustained, and the other being the—probably +unconscious—instinct which debarred the architect from attempting to vie +with nature in the mountains and impel him to work out his most majestic +designs amid wide and level horizons. +</p> + +<p> +The fact remains, whatever may be the cause, that architecture has never been +advanced much beyond the mere domestic in very mountainous regions, with the +exception of the mediaeval strongholds, which formed the nucleus of every town +or village, where a <i>point d’appui</i> was required against invasion, +for the protection of the community. +</p> + +<p> +Breakfast, followed by a prowl among the ruins and a short space for sketching, +gave the sun time to pour his beams with quite unpleasant insistence into the +confined fold in the hills, where we began to gasp until the ladies mounted +their ponies, and we took our way down the valley, crossing the river below +Wangat, and keeping along the left bank to Vernaboug, where we camped, the only +incident of any importance being the sad loss of Jane’s field-glasses, +which, carried by her syce in a boot-bag, were dropped in a stream by that +idiot while crossing, he having lost his footing in a pool, and, clutching +wildly at the pony’s reins, let go the precious binoculars. +</p> + +<p> +This morning we were up betimes, Mrs. Locock having ordained a bear +“honk”! This was, to me, a new departure in shikar, and truly it +was amusing to see the shikari, bursting with importance, mustering the forty +half-naked coolies whom he had collected to beat. A couple of men with tom-toms +slung round their necks completed the party, which marched in straggling +procession out of the village at dawn. +</p> + +<p> +A mile of easy walking brought us to the rough jungly cliffs, seamed with +transverse nullahs, narrow and steep, which bordered the river. Here we were +placed in passes, with great caution and mystery, by the shikari and his +chief-of-the-staff—the “oldest inhabitant” of Vernaboug; and +here we sat in the morning stillness until a distant clamour and the faint +beating of tom-toms afar off made us sit up more warily, and watch eagerly for +the expected bear. +</p> + +<p> +The yells increase, and the tom-toms, vigorously banged, seem calculated to +fuss any self-respecting bear into fits. We watch a narrow space between two +bushes some dozen yards away, and see that the Mannlicher across our knees and +the smooth-bore, ball loaded in the right and chokeless barrel, lie handy for +instant use. +</p> + +<p> +Hidden in the dense jungle, some hundred yards below, sits Mrs. Locock on the +matted top of a hazel, while Jane, chittering with suppressed excitement, +crouches a few paces behind me. +</p> + +<p> +The beaters approach, and pandemonium reigns. A few scared birds dart past, but +no bear comes; and when the first brown body shows among the brushwood we shout +to stop the uproar, and all move on to another beat. +</p> + +<p> +Four “honks” produced nothing, so far as I was concerned; but a +bear—according to her shikari—passed close by Mrs. Locock, so +thickly screened by jungle that she couldn’t see it. This may be so, but +Kashmir shikaris have remarkably vivid imaginations. +</p> + +<p> +After a delightful morning to all parties concerned—for we were much +amused, the coolies were adequately paid, and the bear wasn’t +worried—we returned to breakfast, and then marched fifteen hot miles into +Gunderbal, where we found the Smithsons, with whom we dined. They have been in +Gurais and the Tilail district ever since they left Srinagar on the 24th April, +and have had an adventurous and difficult time, with plenty of snow and +torrents and avalanches, but somewhat poor sport. +</p> + +<p> +This is not according to one’s preconceived ideas of shikar in Kashmir, +as they went into a nullah which no sahib had penetrated for five years; they +had the best shikari in Kashmir (he said it, and he ought to know); they worked +very hard, and their bag consisted of one or two moderate ibex and a red bear. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tuesday, July</i> 11.—On Sunday morning the combined fleet sailed for +Palhallan. The Smithsons had a “matted dounga,” and she +“walked away” from our heavier ark down the winding Sind at a great +pace. We reached Shadipur at 11 A.M., but the Smithsons had “gone +before,” so, crossing the Jhelum, we made after them in hot pursuit, and +reached them and Palhallan at sunset. +</p> + +<p> +A narrow canal, bordered by low swampy marshland, allowed us to get within a +mile of the village and tie up among the shallows, whereupon the mosquitoes +gathered from far and near, and fell upon us. +</p> + +<p> +The final packing, effected amid a hungry crowd of little piping fiends, was a +veritable nightmare, and yesterday morning we rescued our mangled remains from +the enemy, and, having paid off our boats, hurriedly clambered on to the ponies +which had come—late, as usual—from Palhallan to convey what was +left by the mosquitoes to Gulmarg. +</p> + +<p> +The unfortunate Jane—always a popular person—is especially so with +insects; and if there is a flea or a mosquito anywhere within range it +immediately rushes to her. +</p> + +<p> +She paid dearly for her fatal gift of attractiveness at Palhallan—her +eyes, usually so keen, being what is vulgarly termed “bunged up,” +and every vulnerable spot in like piteous plight! +</p> + +<p> +We quitted Palhallan as the Lot family quitted Sodom and Gomorrah, but with no +lingering tendency to look backward; we cast our eyes unto the hills, and +kicked the best pace we could out of our “tattoos,” halting for +breakfast soon after crossing the hot, white road which runs from Baramula to +Srinagar. +</p> + +<p> +As we left the steamy valley and wound up a rapidly ascending path among the +lower fringes and outliers of the forest our spirits rose, and by the time we +had clambered up the last stiff pull and emerged from the darkly-wooded track +into the little clearing, where perches the village of Babamarishi, we were +positively cheerful. +</p> + +<p> +Once more the air was fresh and buoyant, the spring water was cool and +“delicate to drink,” and from our tents we could look out over the +valley lying dim in a yellow heat-haze far below. +</p> + +<p> +Babamarishi is a picturesquely-grouped collection of the usual rickety-looking +wooden huts, no dirtier, but perhaps noisier than usual, owing to the presence +of a very holy ziarat much frequented by loudly conversational devotees. We +spent the crisp, warm afternoon peacefully stretched on the sloping sward in +front of our tents, and making the acquaintance of the only good thing that +came out of Palhallan—a charming quartette of young geese which Sabz Ali +had bought and brought. +</p> + +<p> +These delightful birds evinced the most perfect friendliness and confidence in +us, and we became greatly attached to them. They and the fowls seemed excellent +travellers, and after a long day’s march would come up smiling, like the +jackdaw of Rheims, “not a penny the worse.” +</p> + +<p> +This morning we had but a short and easy march from Babamarishi to Gulmarg, +along a good road, through a fine forest of silver fir. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap12"></a>CHAPTER XII<br/> +GULMARG</h2> + +<p> +Somehow one’s preconceived ideas of a place are almost always quite +wrong, and so Gulmarg seemed quite different from what I had expected. It +seemed all twisted the wrong way, and was really quite unlike the place which +my imagination had evolved. +</p> + +<p> +Turning through a narrow gap, we found ourselves facing a wide, green, +undulating valley completely surrounded by dense fir forest. Beyond, to the +left, rose the sloping bulk of Apharwat, one of the range of the Pir Panjal; +while to the right low, wooded hillocks bounded the valley and fell, on their +outward flanks, to the Kashmir plain. +</p> + +<p> +Immediately in front of us a small village or bazaar swarmed with native life, +and sloped down to a stream which wound through the hollows. +</p> + +<p> +All round the edge of the forest a continuous ring of wooden huts and white +tents showed that the “sahib” on holiday intent had marked Gulmarg +for his own. +</p> + +<p> +As we rode through the bazaar the view expanded. Apharwat showed all his +somewhat disappointing face; his upper slopes, streaked with dirty snow, looked +remarkably dingy when contrasted with the dazzling white clouds which went +sailing past his uninteresting summit. The absence of all variety in form or +light and shade, and the dull lines of his foreshortened front, made it hard to +realise that he stood some five thousand feet above us. +</p> + +<p> +Near the centre of the marg, on a small hill, was a large wooden building +surrounded by many satellite huts and tents: this we rightly guessed to be +Nedou’s Hotel. Below, on a spur, was the little church, and to the right, +in the hollow, the club-house faced the level polo-ground. +</p> + +<p> +A winding stream, which we subsequently found to be perfectly ubiquitous, and +an insatiable devourer of errant golf-balls, ran deviously through the valley, +which seemed to be rather over a mile long, and almost equally wide. +</p> + +<p> +The Smithsons rode away vaguely in search of a camping-ground; while we, having +found out where our hut was, turned back and climbed a knoll behind the bazaar, +and found ourselves in front of our future home, a very plain and roughly-built +rectangular wooden hut, containing a small square room opening upon a verandah, +and having a bedroom and bathroom on each side. +</p> + +<p> +Such was our palace, and we were well satisfied with it. +</p> + +<p> +The cook-house and servants’ quarters were in a hut close by, and I could +summon my retainers or chide them for undue chatter from my bedroom +window—a serviceable short cut for the dinner, too, in wet and stormy +weather! +</p> + +<p> +Life at Gulmarg is extremely apt to degenerate into the “trivial +round” of the golf links varied by polo, or polo varied by golf, with +occasional gymkhanas and picnics. There are, doubtless, many delightful +excursions to be made, but upon the whole it seems difficult to break far +beyond the “Circular Road,” a fairly level and well-kept +bridle-path, which for eight beautiful miles winds through the pine forest, +giving marvellous glimpses of snowy peaks and sunlit valleys. +</p> + +<p> +The “Circular Road” is always fine, whether seen after rain, when, +far below in the Ferozepore Nullah, the +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Swimming vapour slopes athwart the glen,<br/> +Puts forth an arm, and creeps from pine to pine,” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +or when in the evening sunlight the whole broad Valley of Kashmir lies glowing +at our feet, ringed afar by the ethereal mountains whose pale snows stand faint +in the golden light, until beneath the yellowing sky the clouds turn rosy, and +from their midst Haramok and Kolahoi raise their proud heads towards the +earliest star. +</p> + +<p> +The expedition to the top of Apharwat is, in my opinion, hardly worth making, +but then I was not very lucky in the weather. Major Cardew, R.F.A., and I +arranged to do the climb together, and duly started one excessively damp and +foggy morning towards the middle of July. +</p> + +<p> +Taking our ponies, we scrambled up a rough path through the forest to +Killanmarg, a boulder-strewn slope, some half a mile wide, which lies between +the upper edge of the forest and the final slopes of the mountain. +</p> + +<p> +Sending our ponies home, we set about the ascent of the 3500 feet that remained +between us and our goal. The whole hillside was a perfect wild garden. +Columbines, potentillas—yellow, bronze, and crimson—primulas, +anemones, gentian, arnica, and quantities of unknown blossoms gave us ample +excuse for lingering panting in the rarefied air, as we struggled through +brushwood first, and then over loose rocks and finally slopes of shelving snow, +before we found ourselves on the crest of the mountain, shivering slightly in +the raw, foggy air. +</p> + +<p> +Our view was narrowed down to the bleak slopes of rock and snow that +immediately surrounded us, for our hope that we should get above the cloud belt +was not fulfilled, and beyond a dismal tarn, lying just below us, in whose +black waters forlorn little bergs of rotten snow floated, and a very much +circumscribed view of dull tops swathed in flying mist, we saw nothing. +</p> + +<p> +Had the sky been clear, I am told that the view would have been magnificent, +but I should think probably no better than that from Killanmarg, as it is a +mistake to suppose that a high, or at least too high, elevation “lends +enchantment.” As a rule the view is finer when seen half-way up a lofty +mountain than that obtained from the summit. +</p> + +<p> +We did not stay long upon the top of Apharwat discussing the best point of +view, because Cardew sagaciously remarked that if it grew much thicker he +wouldn’t be answerable for finding the way down, and as I have a holy +horror of rambling about strange (and possibly precipitous) mountains in a fog, +we set about retracing our own footsteps in the snow until we regained the +ridge we had come up by. +</p> + +<p> +A remarkably wet couple we were when we presented ourselves at our respective +front doors, just in time for a “rub down” before lunch! +</p> + +<p> +The golf at Gulmarg is very good, the 18-hole course being exceedingly +sporting, and tricky enough to defeat the very elect. Jane and I had conveyed +our clubs out to Kashmir, knowing that they were likely to prove useful. I had +also taken the precaution to pack up a box or two of balls, but I found my +labour all in vain, as “Haskells” and +“Kemshall-Arlingtons” were supplied by the club at precisely the +same price as in England—viz., 1 r. 8 an., or two shillings. +</p> + +<p> +New clubs are also cheap and in plenty, but repairs to old favourites are not +always satisfactory. My pet driver, having been damaged, was very evilly +treated by the native craftsman, who bound up its wounds with large screws! +</p> + +<p> +The mountains of Kashmir have been a constant joy to us. Varying with every +change of light and shade, custom cannot stale their infinite variety; but as +yet I had not seen the great monarch of Chilas, Nanga Parbat. +</p> + +<p> +In July and early August he is rarely visible from Gulmarg, owing to the +haziness of the atmosphere. One clear morning, however, towards the end of +July, after a night of rain and storm, I was strolling along the Circular Road +when, lo! far away in the north-west, soaring ethereal above the blue ranges +that overlook Gurais, above the cloud-banks floating beyond their summits, the +great mountain, unapproachable in his glory, stood revealed. +</p> + +<p> +The early morning sun struck full on his untrodden snows, making it hard to +realise that eighty-five miles of air separated me from that clear-cut peak. +Soon, very soon, a light cloud clung to his eastern face, and within ten +minutes the whole vision had faded into an up-piled tower of seething clouds. +</p> + +<p> +Later in the season, as the air grew clearer, Jane and I made almost daily +pilgrimages to the point, only a few minutes’ walk from our hut, whence, +framed by a foreground of columnar pines, Nanga Parbat could generally be seen +for a time in the morning. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tuesday, August</i> 1.—Society in Gulmarg is particularly cheery, as +indeed might be expected where two or three hundred English men and women are +gathered together to amuse themselves and lay in a fresh store of health and +energy before returning to the routine of duty in the plains. +</p> + +<p> +There have been many picnics lately, the little glades or margs, which are +frequent in the forest slopes, being ideal places of rendezvous for merrymakers +on horse or foot. Picnics of all sorts and sizes, from the little impromptu +gatherings of half-a-dozen congenial young souls (always an even number, +please), who ride off into the romantic shades to nibble biscuits and make tea, +to the dainty repasts provided by a hospitable lady, whose official hut +overlooks the Ferozepore Nullah, and who, in turn, overlooks her cook, to the +great gratification of her guests. +</p> + +<p> +How small a thing will upset the best-laid plans of hospitality! It is said +that a most carefully planned picnic, where all the little tables, set for two, +were discreetly screened apart among the bushes, was entirely ruined by a +piratical damsel undertaking a cutting-out expedition for the capture of the +hostess’ best young man. +</p> + +<p> +Our evenings are by no means dull. On many a starlit night has Jane mounted the +noble steed which, through the kindness of the Resident, we have hired from the +“State,” and ridden across the marg attended by her slaves (her +husband and the ancient shikari, to wit), to dine and play bridge in some +hospitable hut, or dance or see theatricals at Nedou’s Hotel. +</p> + +<p> +Last week we tore ourselves away from our daily golf, and joined the Smithsons +in a futile expedition to the foot of the Ferozepore Nullah for bear. Three +days we spent in vain endeavour to find “baloo,” and on the fourth +we wended our toilsome way up the hill again to Gulmarg. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Monday, August</i> 27.—There are drawbacks as well as advantages in +being perched, as it were, just above the bazaar. Its proximity enables our +good Sabz Ali to sally forth each morning and secure the earliest consignment +of “butter and eggs and a pound of cheese,” which has come up from +Srinagar, and select the best of the fruit and vegetables. It affords also an +interesting promenade for the geese, who solemnly march down the main street +daily for recreation and such stray articles of food as may be found in the +heterogeneous rubbish-heaps. +</p> + +<p> +It possesses, however, a superabundance of pi-dogs, who gather together on the +slope in front of our hut in the watches of the night, and serenade us to a +maddening extent. +</p> + +<p> +The natives, too, have a sinful habit of chattering and shouting at an hour +when all well-conducted persons should be steeped in their beauty sleep. +</p> + +<p> +A few nights ago this culminated in what Keats would have called a +“purple riot.” The sweeper and his friends were holding a meeting +for the purpose of conversation and the consumption of apple brandy. +</p> + +<p> +Having fruitlessly sent the shikari to try and stop the insufferable noise, I +was fain to sally forth myself to investigate matters. +</p> + +<p> +Then to a happy and light-hearted party seated chattering round a blazing fire +there came suddenly the unwelcome apparition of an exceedingly irate sahib, in +evening dress and pumps, brandishing a khudstick. +</p> + +<p> +A wild scurry, in which the bonfire was scattered, a few remarks in forcible +English, a whack which just missed the hindmost reveller, and the place became +a deserted village. +</p> + +<p> +Next morning Sabz Ali came to me in a towering rage to report that the +sweeper—that unclean outcast—had dared to say most opprobrious +things to him, being inspired thereto by the devil and apple brandy. Nothing +less than the immediate execution of the culprit by hanging, drawing, and +quartering would satisfy the outraged feelings of our henchman. +</p> + +<p> +I promised a yet severer punishment. I said I would “cut” the +wretched minion’s pay that month to the amount of a rupee. Vengeance was +satisfied, and the victim reduced to tears. +</p> + +<p> +It is good to hear Jane—who for many years has been accustomed to having +her own way in all household matters—ordering breakfast. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Sabz Ali—what shall we have for breakfast to-morrow?” +</p> + +<p> +“Jessa mem-sahib arder!”—with a friendly grin. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I shall have kidneys.”’ +</p> + +<p> +“No kidney, mem-sahib! Kidney plenty money—two annas six pice ek. +Oh, plenty dear!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m tired of eggs. Is there any cold chicken you could +grill?” +</p> + +<p> +“Chota murghi one egg lay, mem-sahib, anda poach. Sahib, chicken grill +laike!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, all right! But I thought of a mutton-chop for the major +sahib.” +</p> + +<p> +“Muttony stup” (mutton’s tough). “Sahib no +laike!” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, that will do—a poached egg for me and grilled chicken +for the sahib.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, mem-sahib—no ’nuf. Sahib plenty +’ungry—chicken grill, peechy ramble-tamble egg!” +</p> + +<p> +“Have it your own way. I daresay the major sahib <i>would</i> like +scrambled eggs, and we’ll have coffee—not tea.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, mem-sahib. No coffee—coffee finish!” +</p> + +<p> +“Send the shikari down to the bazaar, then, for a tin of coffee from +Nusserwanjee.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shikari saaf kuro lakri ke major sahib” (cleaning the golf-clubs). +“Tea breakfast, coffee kal” (to-morrow). +</p> + +<p> +And, utterly routed on every point, Jane gives in gracefully, and makes an +excellent breakfast as prearranged by Sabz Ali! +</p> + +<p> +The news is spread that there will be an exhibition of pictures held in +Srinagar in September. Every second person is a—more or +less—heaven-born artist out here, so there promises to be no lack of +exhibits. I dreamed a dream last night, and in my dream I was walking along the +bund and came upon an elderly gentleman laying Naples yellow on a canvas with a +trowel. The river was smooth and golden, and reflected the sensuous golden +tones of the sky. Trees arose from golden puddles, half screening a ziarat +which, upon the glowing canvas, appeared remarkably like a village church. +“How beautiful!” I cried, “how gloriously oleographic!” +and the painter, removing a brush from his mouth, smiled, well pleased, and +said, “I am a Leader among Victorian artists and the public adores +me!” and I left him vigorously painting pot-boilers. Then in a damp dell +among the willows of the Dal I found a foreigner in spectacles, and the light +upon his pictures was the light that never was on sea or land; but through a +silvery mist the willows showed ghostly grey, and a shadowy group of classic +nymphs were ringed in the dance, and I cried “O Corot! lend me your +spectacles. I fain, like you, would see crude nature dimmed to a silvery +perpetual twilight.” And Corot replied: “Mon ami moi je ne vois +jamais le soleil, je me plonge toujours, dans les ombres bleuâtres et les +rayons pâles de l’aube.” +</p> + +<p> +Then upward I fared till, treading the clear heights, I found one frantically +painting the peaks and pinnacles of the mountains in weird stipples of +alternate red and blue. +</p> + +<p> +“Great heavens!” I exclaimed, “what disordered manner is +this!” +</p> + +<p> +The artist glanced swiftly at me, and said disdainfully: “I am a modern +of the moderns, and if you cannot see that mountains are like that, it is your +fault—not mine. Go back, you stand too close.” +</p> + +<p> +And as I went back I looked over my shoulder, and, truly, the flaring +rose-colour had blended amicably with the blue, and I admitted that perhaps +Segantini was not so mad as he looked. +</p> + +<p> +A little lower down a stout Scotchman painted a flowery valley. The flowers +were many and bright, but not so garish as they appeared to him, and I hinted +as much; but he scorned my criticism. +</p> + +<p> +“Mon,” he shouted, “I painted the Three Graces, an’ +they made me an Academeesian. I painted a flowery glen in the Tyrol (dearie me, +but thae flowers cost me a fortune in blue paint), and it was coft for the +Chantry Bequest, and hoo daur <i>you</i> talk to me?” +</p> + +<p> +Then I departed hurriedly and came upon four men, two of them with long beards, +and all with unkempt hair, laboriously depicting a blue pine, needle by needle, +and every one in its proper place. I asked them if theirs was not a very +troublesome way of painting. +</p> + +<p> +They looked at one another with earnest blue eyes, and remarked that here was +evidently a Philistine who knew not Cimabue and cared not a jot for Giotto; and +the first said: “Sir, methinks he who would climb the golden stairs +should do so step by step;” and the second said, sadly: “We are but +scapegoats, truly, being cast forth by the vindictive Victorians of our +day.” +</p> + +<p> +The third murmured in somewhat broken English. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Victoria Victrix,<br/> +Beata Beatrix,” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +whereby I recognised him to be a poet, if not a painter. +</p> + +<p> +But the fourth—an energetic-looking man with a somewhat arrogant +manner—said briskly: “Perchance the ass is right; these pine +needles are becoming monotonous, and I have seventeen million four hundred and +sixty-two thousand five hundred and eleven more to do. Beshrew me if I do not +take to pot-boiling!” +</p> + +<p> +Down by the water-side a lady sat, sketching in water-colours for dear life; +around her lay a litter of half-finished works, scattered like autumn leaves in +Vallombrosa. I approached her, quite friendly, and offered to gather them up +for her—at least some of them, saying soothingly, for I saw she was in a +temper— +</p> + +<p> +“Dear, dear, Clara, why, what <i>is</i> the matter?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am painting the Venice of the East,” she cried petulantly, +“but for the life of me I can’t see a campanile, and how can I +possibly paint a picture without a campanile?” +</p> + +<p> +I understood that, of course, she couldn’t, so I stole away softly on +tip-toe, leaving her turning doungas into gondolas for all she was worth. +</p> + +<p> +A dark, dapper man, with an alert air and an eyeglass, sat near the seventh +bridge, writing. Beside him stood an easel and other painting-gear. I asked him +what he was doing, and he answered, with a fine smile, “I am gently +making enemies;” so, to turn the subject, I picked up a large canvas, +smeared over with invisible grey, like the broadside of a modern battleship, +and sprinkled here and there with pale yellow blobs. +</p> + +<p> +“What have we here, James?” I inquired cheerfully, and he, staying +his claw-like hand in mid-air, made reply— +</p> + +<p> +“A chromatic in tones of sad colour, with golden +accidentals—Kashmir night-lights.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! quite so,” I exclaimed; “but have I got it right side +up?” +</p> + +<p> +He looked at it doubtfully for a moment, then, pointing to a remarkable +butterfly (<i>Vanessa Sifflerius</i>) depicted in the corner, cried: +“It’s all right; you’ll never make a mistake if you keep this +insect in the <i>right bottom corner</i>. It is put there on purpose.” +</p> + +<p> +Lastly, on an eminence I saw a man like an eagle, sitting facing full the sun, +and upon his glowing canvas was portrayed the heavens above and the earth +beneath and the waters under the earth, and behind him sat one who patted him +upon the back, and looked at intervals over his shoulder at the glorious work, +and then wrote in a book a eulogy thereof; and I, too, came and looked over the +painter’s shoulder, and I muttered, with Oliver Wendell Holmes, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“The foreground golden dirt,<br/> +The sunshine painted with a squirt.” +</p> + +<p> +Then the man who patted the painter on the back turned upon me aggressively, +and said: “This is the only painter who ever was, or will be, and if you +don’t agree with me you are a fool.” The painter, smiling a sly +Monna-Lisan smile of triumph, remarked: “Right you are, John. I rather +think this <i>will</i> knock that rascal Claude,” and I laughed so that I +awoke; but the memory of the dream remained with me, and it seemed to me that, +perhaps, we poor amateurs might not be any better able to compass aught but +caricatures of this marvellous scenery than the ghostly limners of my dream! +</p> + +<p> +The hut just above ours was tenanted by a party of three young Lancers on leave +from Rawal Pindi, a gramophone, and a few dogs. +</p> + +<p> +One of the soldiers was laid up with a bad ankle, and it soon became a daily +custom for Jane or me to play a game of chess or piquet with the invalid. +</p> + +<p> +Later on, when leave had expired for the hale, when the dogs had departed, and +the voice of the gramophone was no more heard in the land, we came to see a +great deal of the wounded warrior, and finally arranged to personally conduct +him off the premises, and return him, in time for medical survey, to Rawal +Pindi. +</p> + +<p> +Many years ago I read a delightful poem called <i>The Paradise of +Birds</i>—I believe it was by Mortimer Collins,[1] but I am not sure. Now +the Poet (who, together with Windbag, sailed to this very paradise of birds) +deemed that this happy asylum of the feathered fowls was somewhere at the back +of the North Pole. He cannot have known of Kashmir, or he would assuredly have +sent the persecuted birds thither, and placed the “Roc’s Egg” +as janitor, somewhere by the portals of the Jhelum Valley. Kashmir is truly and +indeed the paradise of birds, for there no man molests them, and no schoolboy +collects eggs, and the result is a fascinating fearlessness, the result of +perpetual peace and plenty. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[1] It is by Courthope, not Collins. +</p> + +<p> +I regret exceedingly that my ornithological knowledge is extremely limited. I +could find no books to help me,[2] and, as I did not care to kill any birds +merely to enable me to identify their species, my notes were merely +“popular” and not “scientific.” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[2] See Appendix II. +</p> + +<p> +Shall I confess that I began an erudite work on the birds of Kashmir, but got +no further than the Hoopoe? It began as follows:— +</p> + +<h3>THE HOOPOE</h3> + +<p> +<i>Early history of</i>.—Tereus, King of Thrace, annoyed his wife Procne +so much by the very marked attention which he paid to her sister Philomela, +that she lost her temper so far as to chop up her son Itylus, and present him +to his papa in the form of a ragoût. +</p> + +<p> +This, naturally, disgusted Tereus very much, and he “fell upon” the +ladies with a sword, but, just as he was about to stab them to the heart, he +was changed into a Hoopoe, Philomela into a nightingale, Procne into a swallow, +while Itylus became a pheasant. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Vertitur in volucrem, cui stant in vertice cristæ<br/> +Prominet immodicum pro longa cuspide rostrum;<br/> +N epops volucri.” +</p> + +<p class="right"> +OVID, <i>Metam</i>. lib. vi. +</p> + +<p> +<i>His crest and patent of nobility</i>.—Once upon a time, King Solomon, +while making a royal progress, was much, incommoded by the powerful rays of the +sun, and as he had ascendency over the birds, and knew their language, he +called upon the vultures to come and fly betwixt the sun and his nobility, but +the vultures refused. Then the kindly Hoopoes assembled, and flew in close mass +above his head, thus forming a shade under which he proceeded on his journey in +ease and comfort. +</p> + +<p> +At sundown the monarch sent for the King of the Hoopoes, and desired him to +name a reward for the service which he and his followers had rendered. +</p> + +<p> +Then the King of the Hoopoes answered that nothing could be more glorious than +the golden crown of King Solomon; and so Solomon decreed that the Hoopoes +should thenceforward wear golden crowns as a mark of his favour. But alas! when +men found the Hoopoes all adorned with golden crowns, they pursued and slew +them in great multitudes for greed of the precious metal, until the King of the +Hoopoes, in heavy sorrow, hied hastily to King Solomon, and begged that the +gift of the golden crowns might be rescinded, ere every Hoopoe was slain. +</p> + +<p> +Then Solomon, seeing the misery they had brought upon themselves by their +presumption, transformed their crowns of gold to crowns of feathers, which no +man coveted (for the Eastern ladies didn’t wear hats), and the Hoopoes +wear them to this day as a mark of royal favour, but all the feathers fell off +the necks of the disobliging vultures. +</p> + +<p> +<i>His amazing talent</i>.—In those dark ages … the Hoopoe was considered +as prodigiously skilful in defeating the machinations of witches, wizards, and +hobgoblins. The female, in consequence of this art, could preserve her +offspring from these dreaded injuries. +</p> + +<p> +She knew all the plants which defeat fascinations, those which give sight to +the blind; and, more wondrous still, those which open gates or doors, locked, +bolted, or barred. +</p> + +<p> +Aelian relates that a man having three times successively closed the nest of a +Hoopoe, and having remarked the herb with which the bird, as often, opened it, +applied the same herb, and <i>with the same success</i>, to charm the locks off +the strongest coffer.—<i>Naturalists’ Magazine</i> (about 1805). +</p> + +<p> +<i>His personal appearance</i>.—The beak is bent, convex and +sub-compressed, and in some degree obtuse; the tongue is obtuse, triangular and +very short, and the feet are ambulatory. As this bird has a great abundance of +feathers, it appears considerably thicker than it is. It is, in fact, about the +size of a mistletoe thrush, but looks, while in its feathers, to be as large as +a common pigeon.—<i>Naturalists’ Magazine</i>. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +I had got <i>no</i> further in my <i>magnum opus</i>, when I unfortunately +showed my notes to Colonel—well, I will not mention his name, but he is +the greatest authority on the birds and beasts of Kashmir. He besought me to +spare him, pathetically remarking that I should cut the ground from under his +feet, and take the bread out of his mouth, and the wind out of his sails, if I +went any further with my monograph on the Hoopoe. He saw at a glance that I was +conversant with authorities whom he had never consulted, and possessed a +knowledge of my subject to which he could hardly aspire, so I gracefully agreed +to leave the field to him, and relinquished my <i>magnum opus</i> in its very +inception. +</p> + +<p> +One of the chiefest charms of Kashmir, and one which is apt to be overlooked, +is the entirely unspoilt freshness of its scenery. No locust horde of +personally-conducted “trippers” pollutes its ways and byways, nor +has the khansamah of the dâk bungalow as yet felt constrained to add sauerkraut +and German sausage to his bill of fare—for which Allah be praised! +</p> + +<p> +The world is growing very small, and the globe-trotter rushes round it in +eighty days. The trail of the cheap excursionist is all over Europe, from the +North Cape to Tarifa, from the highest Alpine summit (which he attains in +comfort by a funicular railway) to the deepest mines of Cornwall. Egypt has +become his footstool, and the shores of the Mediterranean his wash-pot. Niagara +is mapped and labelled for his benefit, and the Yosemite is his happy +hunting-ground. He “does” the West Indies in “sixty days for +sixty pounds,” and he is now arranging a special cheap excursion from the +Cape to Cairo. “But,” it may be remarked, “what were Jane and +I but globe-trotters’? and am I not trying to sing the praises of Kashmir +with the avowed object of inducing people to go out and see it for +themselves?” +</p> + +<p> +By all manner of means let us travel. Far be it from me to wish folks to stay +dully at home, while the wonders and beauties of the wide world lie open for +the admiration and education of its inhabitants. +</p> + +<p> +But there are globe-trotters and globe-trotters. My objection is only to +those—alas! too numerous—vagrants who cannot go abroad without +casting shame on the country which bred them; whose vulgarity causes offence in +church and picture-gallery; who cannot see a monument or a statue without +desiring to chip off a fragment, or at least scrawl their insignificant names +upon it. +</p> + +<p> +From these, and such as these, Kashmir is as yet free; but some day, I suppose, +it will be “opened up,” when the railway, which is already +contemplated, is in going order between Pindi and Srinagar, and cheap excursion +tickets are issued from Berlin and Birmingham. +</p> + +<p> +Here is a specimen page of the Guide Book (bound in red) for 19—(?): +</p> + +<p> +“Ascend Apharwat by the funicular railway. The neat little station, with +its red corrugated-iron roof, makes a picturesque spot of colour near the +Dobie’s Ghât. Fares, 4 an. 6 pi., all the way.” +</p> + +<p> +“A local guide should on no account be omitted (several are always to be +found near the station leaning on their khudsticks, and discussing +controversial theology in the sweet low tones so noticeable in the Kashmiri). +See that he be provided with a horn, to the hooting of which the Echo Lake will +be found responsive.” +</p> + +<p> +“From the balcony of the * Hôtel Baloo an unrivalled view of Nanga Parbat +should be obtained. Glasses can be procured from the anna-in-the-slot machines +which are dotted about.” +</p> + +<p> +“This veritable king of the Himal—” (here follows a pageful +of regulation guide-book gush). +</p> + +<p> +“Good sport is to be obtained from the obliging and enterprising manager +of the hotel, Herr Baer. A few rupees will purchase the privilege of shooting +at that monarch of the mountains, the markhor. Start not, fair tourist, for no +danger lurks in the sport. No icy precipices need be scaled, no giddy gulfs +explored, and the only danger which menaces the bold hunter in the mimic stalk, +is that which menaces his shins in the broken soda-water bottles and +sharp-edged sardine tins with which the summit of Apharwat is strewn.” +</p> + +<p> +“As a matter of fact, the consumption of mutton is considerable in the +Hôtel Baloo in the tourist season, and the worthy Baer conceived the brilliant +and financially sound scheme of attaching some old ibex and markhor horns +(bought cheap when the old library at Srinagar was swept away in the last +flood) to his live stock, and turning his decorated flock loose on the +mountain’s brow, where the sportsman saves him the trouble of slaughter +while enjoying all the excitement and none of the difficulty of a veritable +stalk.” +</p> + +<p> +“Another brilliant invention of the good Baer is his ‘sunset +spectacles.’ These are made with the glasses in two halves—the +upper part orange and the lower one purple. These are simply invaluable to +those who have only a brief half-hour in which to ‘do’ Apharwat +before darting down to catch the 3.15 express for Leh (<i>viâ</i> the newly +opened Zoji La tunnel), since for the modest sum of 8 a. a superb sunset can be +enjoyed at any time of the day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Should, however, the leisured globe-trotter have unlimited time at his +disposal, he would do well to lunch at the Hôtel Baloo, in order to taste the +celebrated Kashmir sauerkraut (made of wild rhubarb) and Gujar pie (composed of +the most tempting tit-bits of the water buffalo), before returning to the +‘Savoy’ at Srinagar by the turbine tram from Tangmarg, or by the +pneumatic launch which leaves Palhallan Pier every ten minutes, weather +permitting.” +</p> + +<p> +“Should the tourist be a naturalist he can hardly fail to observe, and be +interested in, the mosquitoes of this charming and picturesque locality. He +will note that they rival the song-thrush in magnitude and the Bengal tiger in +ferocity. A coating of tar laid with a trowel over the exposed parts of the +body will be found the best protection, especially as the new Armour +Company’s patent hermetically sealed bear-proof visor will be found too +hot for comfort in summer.” +</p> + +<p> +“The environs of Srinagar are charming. Notice the picturesque +‘furnished apartments’ for paying guests all along the water-side, +and the mixed bathing establishments, crowded daily by the Smart Set, whose +jewelled pyjamas flash in rivalry of the heliographic oil-tins which deck the +neighbouring temples.” +</p> + +<p> +“By a visit to the Museum, and an inspection by eye and nose of the +quaint specimens of antique clothing exhibited there, the intelligent and +imaginative traveller may conjure up a mental picture of the unpolished +appearance of the old-time Mangi and his lady before he adopted the tall hat +and frock coat of civilisation, or she had discovered the +‘swanbill’!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap13"></a>CHAPTER XIII<br/> +THE FLOOD</h2> + +<p> +Tuesday, <i>September</i> 12.—A second edition of the Noachian deluge is +upon us! It began to rain on Saturday, at the close of a hot and stuffy week, +and, having succeeded in thoroughly soaking the unfortunate ladies who were +engaged in a golf competition that day, it proceeded to rain abundantly all +through Sunday and Monday. +</p> + +<p> +The outlook from our hut is dispiriting; through a thick grey veil of vapour +the gleam of water shines over the swamp that was the polo-ground. The little +muddy stream in which so many erring golf-balls lie low is up and out for a +ramble over its banks. The lower golf-greens resemble paddy-fields, and round +the marg the spires of dull grey pines stand dripping in a steadfast +shower-bath. +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes the heavy cloud folds everything in its leaden wing, blotting out +even the streaming village at our feet, and reducing our view to the immediate +slope below us where the wilted ragwort and rank weeds bend before the tiny +torrents which trickle everywhere. Then comes a break, falsely suggestive of an +improvement, and lo! soaring above the cloudy boil, the lofty shoulders of +Apharwat sheeted in new-fallen snow! +</p> + +<p> +After the somewhat oppressive heat of last week, the sudden raw cold strikes +home, and Jane and I take a great interest in the fire, the “Old +Snake”[1] is an accomplished fire-master, and it is pleasant to watch him +squatting like an ungainly frog in front of the hearth, and sagaciously feeding +the flame with damp and spitting logs. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[1] Our pet name for Shikari Mark II., who reigns in the stead of Ahmed Bot, +sacked for expensive inefficiency. +</p> + +<p> +It is amazing what lavish expenditure of fuel one will indulge in when it costs +nothing a ton! +</p> + +<p> +We are just beginning to find out the exact spots where chairs may be planted +so as to avoid the searching draughts which go far to make our happy home like +a very airy sort of bird-cage. +</p> + +<p> +Well! we might have been worrying through all this in a sodden tent, where even +a boarded floor would barely have kept out rheumatism, and where one would have +been liable to alarms and excursions at all sorts of untoward times when drains +wanted deepening and guys slackening. The mere thought of such things sent us +into a truly thankful state of mind, and we discussed from our cosy chairs the +probable condition of the party from the Residency which set forth, full of +high hope, on Saturday morning to attack the markhor of Poonch. +</p> + +<p> +Here it has rained with vehemence ever since they left; up in the high ground +it has doubtless snowed; and although they were well armed with cards and +whisky, yet it would appear but a poor business to play bridge all day in a +snow-bound tent on the top of the Pir Panjal! Nothing short of a hundred aces +every few minutes could make the game worth the candle! +</p> + +<p> +This spell of bad weather has greatly interfered with the movements of a large +number of the folks who were to leave Gulmarg early this week. Many got away +betimes on Saturday, and a few faced the elements on Sunday, and a painful +experience they must have had. +</p> + +<p> +We had intended to leave next Thursday, and had ordered boats to meet us at +Parana Chauni, but the road will be so bad that I wired this morning to put off +our transport till further orders. +</p> + +<p> +The end of the season at Gulmarg sees the bazaar stock at low water. Eggs, +fowls, cherry brandy, and spirits of wine are “off,” also butter, +but the latter scarcity does not affect us, as we make our own in a pickle jar. +The bazaar butter became very bad, probably because the large numbers of +visitors to Gulmarg caused an additional supply to be got from uncleanly +Gujars, so we, by the kindness of the Assistant Resident, had a special cow +detailed to supply us daily with milk at our own door. +</p> + +<p> +That cow was very friendly; I first made its acquaintance one forenoon. While I +was sitting below the verandah sketching, with a dozen lovely peaches spread by +me on the hoards to obtain their final touch of perfection in the sun before +lunch, the cow strolled up. I was much interested in the sketch, and believed +that the cow was too; but when I looked up at last, expecting to see its eye +fixed upon the work in silent approbation, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“The ‘cow’ was still there, but the ‘peaches’ +were gone.” +</p> + +<p> +In the afternoon the weather showed signs of a desire to amend its ways. The +clouds broke here and there, and, though it still rained heavily, it became +apparent that the clerk of the weather had done his worst, and the supply of +rain was running short. Clad in aquascutic garments, and surmounted by an +ungainly two-rupee bazaar umbrella (my dapper British one having been annexed +by a covetous Mangi)— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Ombrifuge, Lord love you, case o’ rain,<br/> +I flopped forth ’sbuddikins on my own ten toes.” +</p> + +<p> +The whole slope in front of the hut was a trickle of water, threading the dying +stalks of dock and ragwort, and hurrying down to add its dirty pittance to the +small yellow torrent rushing along the greasy strip of clay that in happier +days was the path. +</p> + +<p> +The whole marg was become lake or stream—lake over the polo-ground and +half the golf-links—fed by the weeping slopes on every side, whence +innumerable rills rioted over the grass, emulating in ferocity and haste, if +not in size, the tawny torrents which drained the sides of Apharwat. +</p> + +<p> +The road from the bazaar to the club was all but impassable, but as it had +still a few inches of freeboard, I followed it to the foot of the church slope, +and, skirting the hill, inspected the desolation which had been wrought at the +Kotal hole, where the stream had torn through its banks and wrecked the green. +</p> + +<p> +During a visit of condolence to Mrs. Smithson, whose unfortunate husband is +pursuing markhor in Poonch, the sky cleared—a splendid effort in the way +of a “clearing shower” being followed by a decided break-up of the +pall of wet cloud in which we have been too long immersed. Not without a severe +struggle did Jupiter Pluvius consent to turn off the tap, but at length the sun +broke through the hanging clouds and sent their sodden grey fragments swirling +up the Ferozepore Nullah to break in foamy wreaths round the ragged cliffs of +Kulan. +</p> + +<p> +Finding the road across to the post-office altogether under water for some +distance—a lake extending from the twelfth hole for nearly a quarter of a +mile to the main road—I wandered back towards the higher ground, joining +a waterproof figure, a member of the Green Committee, who was sadly regarding +the water-logged links with the disconsolate air of the raven let loose from +the ark! We agreed that this was a remarkably good opportunity for observing +the drainage system, and taking notes for future guidance, and in company we +went over as much of the links as possible, finishing below the second hole, +where the cross stream which comes down from the higher ground had torn away +the bridge and cut off the huts beyond from civilisation. +</p> + +<p> +The homeward stroll at sunset was perfectly beautiful, and showed Gulmarg in an +absolutely new guise. The lower part of the marg, being all lake, reflected the +lustrous golden sky and rich dark pine-woods in a faithful mirror. Flying +fragments of cloud, fleeces of gold and crimson, clung to the mountain-sides or +sailed above the forests, while beyond Apharwat, coldly clad in a pure white +mantle of snow, new fallen, rose silhouetted against the darkening sky. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Saturday, September</i> 16.—After the Deluge came the Exodus, +everybody trying to leave Gulmarg at once. We had always intended to go down to +Srinagar about the 15th, but, finding that the Residency party meant to move on +that day, we arranged to migrate a day earlier in order to avoid the pony and +coolie famine which a Residential progress entails on the ordinary traveller. +</p> + +<p> +On Wednesday afternoon the ten ponies, carefully ordered a week before from the +outlying villages, were congregated on the weedy slope which falls away from +our verandah, picking up a scanty sustenance from decaying ragwort and such +like. +</p> + +<p> +Secure in the possession of the necessary transport, Jane and I strolled forth +for a last look at Nanga Parbat, should he haply deign to be on view. He did +not deign, however, preferring to remain, like Achilles, when bereft of +Briseis, sulking in his cloudy tent. So we consoled ourselves with an +exceedingly fine view of the snow-crowned heights at the head of the Ferozepore +Nullah. Upon returning to our beloved log cabin we were met by Sabz +Ali—almost speechless with wrath—who broke to us the distressing +news that six of our ten weight-carriers had departed from the compound. The +entire staff, with the exception of our factotum, were away in pursuit, and +there was nothing for it but to possess our souls in what patience we might +until they returned. +</p> + +<p> +As we had arranged for a four o’clock start next morning, it was most +disconcerting to have all our transport desert so late in the evening. An +urgent note to the Assistant Resident, and some pressure on the Tehsildhar, +produced promise of assistance. +</p> + +<p> +Early on Thursday morning came an indignant chit from an irate General, +complaining that my servants were trying to seize his ponies, for which he had +paid an advance of two rupees, and would I be good enough to investigate the +affair. Here was the murder out. His chuprassie had obviously bribed my pony +wallahs, and a letter, stating my case pretty clearly, produced the ponies and +an apology. +</p> + +<p> +This delay kept us till after midday, when, stowing our invalid snugly in a +dandy, we left Gulmarg and began the descent to Srinagar. I remained behind to +see the hut clear and make a sketch, and then hurried down the direct path, +which drops some 2000 feet to Tangmarg. Here I found Jane and the invalid +comfortably disposed in a landau, but the baggage spread about anywhere, and +the usual clamour of coolies uprising in the heated and dust-laden air. +</p> + +<p> +No ekka—the one which had been ordered with the landau having apparently +got another job and departed. Presently a stray ekka, drawn by a sorely +weary-looking mule, appeared on the scene, and we seized upon it instantly, +loaded it up with most of the baggage, and despatched coolies with the rest. +</p> + +<p> +After the storm came a holy calm, and we settled down to a light but welcome +lunch before starting down the long slope into the valley. +</p> + +<p> +We had heard most disquieting tales of floods; the water had burst the bund at +Srinagar, and there was said to be ten feet over the polo-ground. The occupants +of Nedou’s Hotel were going in and out by boat, and Srinagar itself was +said to be quite cut off from all access by road. +</p> + +<p> +The Residency party have countermanded their intended move to-morrow. +</p> + +<p> +At the post-office I was told that only a small part of the mail had been +brought into Srinagar, the road being “bund” between Baramula and +that place, while an unusual number of landslips and bridges have come down in +the Jhelum Valley. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, we had made a push to get on; things in Kashmir are often less +gloomy than their reports would make one believe, and so we bowled quite +cheerfully down the road from Tangmarg, basking in the hot and sunny air, which +seemed to us really delicious after the raw cheerlessness of the last few days +at Gulmarg. +</p> + +<p> +From Tangmarg to the dâk bungalow at Margam, a steady descent is maintained by +an excellent road over the sloping Karewa, for about ten miles, of which we had +just about travelled half when a series of yells from the syce behind, a wild +swerve, and a heavy plump brought us up just on the edge of the steep and rocky +bank, which fell sharply from the roadside. +</p> + +<p> +Alas! the axle of the off hind wheel had snapped, and the wheel itself was +hopelessly lying in the thick white dust, and our landau looked like an ancient +three-decker in a squall. +</p> + +<p> +The horses being unharnessed, we sent the drivers with one of them forward to +look for help, and Hesketh and Jane proceeded to make tea while I sat by the +roadside and sketched. +</p> + +<p> +Presently an empty dandy came “dribbling by” on its return journey +to Gulmarg, and it was immediately impressed for the benefit of the lame. +Hardly had we packed him in, when a wandering tonga hove in sight, and, being +promptly requisitioned, we rattled off the five miles which lay between us and +Margam in no time. +</p> + +<p> +Here we found a large party assembled in the little rest-house. Colonel and +Mrs. Maxwell (who had kindly sent us back the tonga on hearing of the +breakdown); Mr. and Mrs. Allen Baines, whose dandy had been the means of +bringing Hesketh along; and Sadleir-Jackson, and Edwards of the 9th Lancers. +</p> + +<p> +The bungalow was full, but I found out that one room was appropriated by a +coming event, who had cast his shadow before him in the guise of a bearer. This +being contrary to the etiquette as observed in dâk bungalows, I gently but +firmly cleared out the neatly arranged toilet things and ready-made bed; while +Hesketh was taken over, somewhat shattered by his tedious though exciting day, +by his fellow Lancers. +</p> + +<p> +The resources of the little place were severely strained; dinner was a scanty +meal, and soda-water gave out almost immediately: nevertheless, a cheroot and a +rubber of bridge sent us contented to bed. +</p> + +<p> +Yesterday (Friday) the question of how to proceed arose. The road was reported +to be impassable after about five miles, the remaining ten being under water. +</p> + +<p> +We set out after breakfast, Jane perched on a pony which Sabz Ali had raised or +stolen, Hesketh in the dandy, and I on foot. After a warm five miles’ +march we came upon signs of a block. Vehicles of many and strange sorts were +drawn up in the shade of a chenar, under whose wide branches the Baines family +was faring sumptuously on biscuits and brandy and water. +</p> + +<p> +Horses, goats, and cattle strayed around, and a chattering mob of natives, +busily engaged, as usual, in doing nothing, completed the picture. +</p> + +<p> +Hesketh was reduced to despair; after two months in bed, this could not but be +a trying journey under the most favourable circumstances, and the prospect as +held out by his pessimistic bearer was pretty gloomy—no boats available, +and no signs of our doungas. +</p> + +<p> +I pushed on to the break in search of my shikari, whom I had sent on by pony +early in the morning, and soon found that estimable person, who is not really +the blithering idiot he looks! +</p> + +<p> +In the first place, he had appropriated the only two shikaras he could find, +and our baggage was already being stowed in them; secondly, he had discovered +both Juma and Ismala, our Mangis, who reported the doungas moored below Parana +Chaum, about four miles away over the flooded fields. +</p> + +<p> +This was good news, and we ate a cheerful lunch under a tree densely populated +by jackdaws. +</p> + +<p> +The Maxwells got away somehow in search of their house-boat, which was supposed +to have left Baramula some days ago. They started cheerfully, but vaguely, down +the Spill Canal, and we trust they found their ark somewhere! +</p> + +<p> +Promising to send back a boat for the Baines, we paid and dismissed coolies and +ponies, and paddled away over the flood water. The country was simply a vast +lake, the main road merely marked by a dense row of poplars. Trees rose +promiscuously out of the calm and sunlit water, wisps of maize and wreckage +clinging to their lower boughs. Presently the road showed in patches, a broad +waterfall breaking it every here and there as the imprisoned waters from above +sought the slightly lower channel of the Jhelum. +</p> + +<p> +We passed a party of natives bivouacking near the roof and upper storey of +their wooden hut, which, floating from above, was held up by the Baramula road. +Sounding now and then with our khudsticks, we found no bottom over the +submerged rice crops, though we could see plainly the laden ears waving +dismally down below. This is nothing less than a great calamity for the owners, +as the rice was just ready for gathering. +</p> + +<p> +Towards dusk we arrived at our ships, calmly lying moored to poplar trees by +the roadside, and right gladly did we clamber on board, for our invalid was +pretty well fagged out. +</p> + +<p> +This morning we cast loose from our poplars, and brought the fleet up to within +half a mile of the seventh bridge, or, rather, of the spot where the seventh +bridge used to be, for all but a fragment has been washed away! The strong +current prevented us from getting any higher up the river in our doungas. Jane +and I, however, were anxious to see what appearance Srinagar presented, so we +manned the shikara with five able-bodied paddlers and pushed our way upwards. +Turning into a side canal we passed a demolished bridge, and tried to force our +way up a small but swift stream. +</p> + +<p> +Failing to make anything of it, we landed and had the boat carried over into a +wider channel. Three times we were obliged to get out and leave our stalwart +crew to force the boat on somehow, and they did it well—hauling, +paddling, and shouting invocations to various saints, particularly the one +whose name sounds like “jam paws!” +</p> + +<p> +The water had already fallen some four or five feet, but there was plenty left. +A great break in the bund between Nusserwanjee’s shop and the Punjab Bank +allowed us to paddle into the flooded European quarter, past the telegraph +office, standing knee-deep in muddy water, up over the main road to +Nedou’s Hotel, where boats lay moored outside the dining-room windows, +then across the lagoon, lightly rippled by a tiny breeze, beneath which lay the +polo-ground, to the Residency, where we landed to inspect damages. +</p> + +<p> +The water had been all over the lower storey, but a muddy deposit on the wooden +floor, and a brown slimy high-water mark on the door jambs, alone remained to +show what had happened. The piano had been hoisted upon a table, carpets and +curtains bundled upstairs, and everything, apparently, saved. The poor garden, +with its slime-daubed shrubs, broken palings and torn creepers, trailing wisps +of draggled foliage in the oozy brown pools, was a sad and pitiful sight, +especially when mentally contrasted with the glowing glory of asters and +zinneas which it should have been. +</p> + +<p> +The flood has been nearly as bad as the great one of 1903. Fortunately the +Spill Canal, cut above Srinagar to carry off the flood water, took off some of +the pressure; the bund, also, is three feet higher than it was then, but it +gave way in two places—one somewhere near the top, and the other just +below the Bank, letting in the river to a depth of ten feet over the low-lying +quarter. The stream is now falling fast, and, after doing a little shopping and +visiting the post-office, which is temporarily established on the bund in the +midst of an amazing litter of desks, boxes, and queer pigeon-holes admirably +adapted to lose letters by the score, we spun swiftly down the rushing stream +to tea and our cosy dounga. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Monday, September</i> 18.—It was impossible to get our boats up the +river yesterday, so I spent the day sketching amidst the most picturesque, but +horribly smelly, part of the town; much quinine in the evening seemed desirable +as a counterblast to possible malaria. +</p> + +<p> +The sunsets lately have been really magnificent; the poplars and chenars, +darkly olive, reflected in the flooded fields against a red gold sky, in the +foreground the black silhouettes of the armada. +</p> + +<p> +The days are almost too hot, but the nights are cool and delicious, and the +mosquitoes are only noticeable for a brief period of sinful activity about +sundown, after which the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest. +</p> + +<p> +At half-past ten this morning we set sail; that is to say, we hired nine extra +coolies and a second shikara to tow, and advanced on Srinagar. Hesketh’s +boat, being the lighter, kept well ahead (here let me note that +“bow” in that boat is quite the prettiest girl we have seen in +Kashmir, and the minx knows it!), but we had good men, and worked along slowly +and steadily up the main river, the side canals being all choked by broken +bridges and such like. We crept past the Amira Kadal, or first bridge, about +two o’clock, and tied up for lunch, revelling in the most perfect pears, +peaches, and walnuts. As a rule the Kashmir fruit is disappointing; abundant +and cheap certainly, but not by any means of first-rate quality. +</p> + +<p> +Strawberries, cherries, apricots, melons, and grapes might all be far better if +properly cultivated, and scientifically improved from European stock. +</p> + +<p> +The pears alone defy criticism, and the apples, I am told, are excellent also. +</p> + +<p> +Vegetables are in great plenty, but, like the fruit, would be much improved by +good cultivation. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Wednesday, September</i> 25.—The abomination of desolation wrought by +the flood is borne in upon one more and more as an inspection of the town +reveals the damage done more fully—the houses standing empty, their lower +storeys dank and slimy, the ruined gardens, and muddy, slippery roads. The +wrecked garden of the Punjab Bank is one of the saddest sights, and must be a +painful spectacle to Mr. Harrison, whose joy it was to spend time and money on +importing exotic and improving indigenous plants. +</p> + +<p> +One cannot help reflecting how desperately depressed Noah, and the probably +more impressionable Mrs. Noah, must have been when, discarding their +aquascutums for the first time, they sallied forth, a primeval party, to +observe the emerging country. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Noah, tucking up the curious straight garment that is a memory of our +childhood, went ahead with feminine curiosity; Noah, bare-legged, slithering +along in the rear and beseeching the ladies to note the slipperiness of the +alluvial deposit, and for goodness’ sake not to make a glissade down the +side of Ararat. +</p> + +<p> +I feel confident they must have taken great precautions, for Sabz Ali slipped +up on the shelving bank of the Jhelum, and, had he not caught the gunwale of +our dounga in his descent, would most certainly have had to swim for his +life—which I doubt if he can do! +</p> + +<p> +Now, Shem and Co. were as valuable to Noah as Sabz Ali is to us, and I should +not be surprised if he made them travel on all-fours in the risky places. +Fathers were very dictatorial in those days, and there was nobody about to make +them consider their dignity. +</p> + +<p> +One can imagine the scene. Ararat, a muddy pyramid dotted here and there with +olive trees—curious, by the way, to find olives so high!—in the +receding waters the vagrant raven cheerfully picking out the eye of a defunct +pterodactyl. The heavy clouds rolling off the sodden world—they must have +indeed been heavy clouds, nimbus of the first water—as they had raised +the world’s water-level 250 feet per day during “the flood” … +surely a record output! +</p> + +<p> +The primeval family party, sadly poking about along the expanding margin of the +world, noting how Abel Brown’s tall chimney was beginning to show, and +how Cain Jones’ wigwam was clean gone. Mrs. Shem said she knew it would, +the mortar work had been so terribly scamped. +</p> + +<p> +And Naboth Robinson’s vineyard—well, <i>it</i> was in a pretty +mess, to be sure, and serve him right, for Mrs. Noah had frequently offered him +two of her (second) best milch mammoths for it; yet he had held on to his nasty +sour grapes, like the mean old curmudgeon that he was. +</p> + +<p> +And now Hammy must set to work and tidy it up; and oh! what lots of nice manure +was floating about, all for nothing the cartload … And so the primeval family +felt better, and went back to the ark to tea, feeling almost cheerful, but +rather lonesome. +</p> + +<p> +Fortunately this great flood did little injury to life or limb. A certain +amount of destruction of crops and other property was inevitable, but on the +whole the loss was not so great as was at one time feared, and much was saved +that at first seemed irreparable. +</p> + +<p> +A well-known lady artist came near to giving the note of tragedy to the British +community, and losing the number of her mess (to use a nautical, and therefore +appropriate expression) by reason of a big willow tree, beneath whose shady +boughs she had moored her floating studio. This hapless tree, having all its +sustenance swept from beneath by the greedy water, came down with a crash in +the night upon the confiding house-boat, and all but swamped it. +</p> + +<p> +The cook-boat, occupied as usual by a pair of prolific Mangis and their large +small family, was saved by the proverbial “acid drop”—the +children crawling out somehow or anyhow from among the branches of the fallen +tree. +</p> + +<p> +The fair artist, having with shrieks invoked the aid of a neighbour, he +promptly descended from his roof or other temporary camp, and helped her with +basins and chatties to bale out the half-swamped boat. The lady is now safely +moored to the mudbank on the other side of the river where willow trees do not +grow. +</p> + +<p> +The whole bund is in a very unsafe state: it was raised three feet after the +last flood, but its width was not increased correspondingly. Now that the water +has fallen, great fissures and subsidences have appeared, and in many places +large portions of the bank have fallen away, carrying big trees with them. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap14"></a>CHAPTER XIV<br/> +THE MACHIPURA</h2> + +<p> +Wednesday, <i>September</i> 27.—We left Srinagar yesterday, very sorry +indeed to part from the many good friends we have made and left there. Truly +Kashmir is a hospitable country, and we have met with more kind friendliness in +the last six months than we could have believed possible, coming as we did, +strangers and pilgrims into a strange land. Our consolation is that every one +comes “Home” sooner or later, so that we can look forward to +meeting most of our friends again ere very long, and recalling with them +memories of this happy summer with those who have done so much to make it so. +</p> + +<p> +Farewell, Srinagar! Your foulness and inward evilness were lost in the +background behind your picturesque and tumble-down houses as we floated for the +last time down Jhelum’s olive waters, where the sharp-nosed boats lay +moored along the margin or, poled by their sturdy Mangis and guided by the +chappars of their wives and daughters, shot athwart the eddying flood, breaking +the long reflections of the storeyed banks. +</p> + +<p> +Past the Palace of the Maharajah, its fantastic mixture of ancient fairness and +modern ugliness blending into a homogeneous beauty as distance lent it +enchantment. +</p> + +<p> +Past the temples, their tin-coated roofs refulgent in the brilliant sunlight; +under the queer wooden bridges, their solid stone piers parting the suave flow +of water into noisy swirl and gurgle. +</p> + +<p> +Past the familiar groups of grave, white-robed men solemnly washing themselves, +then scooping up and drinking the noisome fluid; past their ladies squatting +like frogs by the river-side, washing away at clothes which never seem a whit +the cleanlier for all their talk and trouble. +</p> + +<p> +Past the children and fowls, and cows and crows, all hob-nobbing together as +usual. +</p> + +<p> +Past all these sights—so strange to us at first and now so strangely +familiar—we floated, till the broken remnant of the seventh bridge lay +behind us, and the lofty poplars that hem in the Baramula road stood stark and +solemn in their endless perspective. +</p> + +<p> +Here a jangling note, out of tune and harsh, was struck by the dobie, with whom +we had a grave difference of opinion regarding the washing. +</p> + +<p> +That gentleman having “lost by neglect” certain articles of my +kit—to wit sundry shirts and other garments—and having rendered +others completely <i>hors de combat</i> by reason of his sinful method of +washing, I decided to “cut” three rupees off his remuneration. +</p> + +<p> +This decision seemed to have taken from him all that life held of worth, and he +implored me to spare his wife, children, and home, all of whom would be broken +up and ruined if I were cruel enough, to enforce my awful threat. Seeing that I +was obdurate, being well backed by the infuriated Jane, whose underwear showed +far more lace and open work than nature intended, the wretched dobie melted +into loud and tearful lamentation, and perched himself howling in the prow. +This soon became so boresome that I deported him to Hesketh’s boat, where +he underwent another defeat at the hands of that irate Lancer, whose shirts and +temper had suffered together; finally the woeful washerman, still howling +lugubriously, was landed on the river bank, and we saw and heard him no more! +</p> + +<p> +Down the gentle river we swiftly glided all day, while the Takht and Hari +Parbat grew smaller and bluer, and Srinagar lay below them invisible in its +swathing greenery. +</p> + +<p> +Reaching Sumbal at sunset, we turned to the left down a narrow canal, and soon +the Wular lay—a sheet of molten gold—upon our right; and by the +time we had moored alongside a low strip of reedy bank, the glorious rosy +lights had faded from the snows of the Pir Panjal, and their royal purple and +gold had turned to soft ebony against the primrose of the sky. +</p> + +<p> +A few hungry mosquitoes worried us somewhat before sunset, promising worse to +follow; but the sharp little breeze that came flickering over the Wular after +dark seemed to upset their plans, and send them shivering and hungry to shelter +among the reeds and rushes. +</p> + +<p> +This morning we crossed the Wular, starting as the first pale dawn showed over +the eastern hills. +</p> + +<p> +Before the sun rose over Apharwat, his shafts struck the higher snows and +turned them rosy; while the lower slopes, their distant pines suffused with +strong purple, stood reflected in the placid mirror of the lake. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Full many a glorious morning have I seen<br/> +Flatter the mountain tops with sovran eye,” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +but seldom a more lovely one than this—our last on the Wular Lake. +</p> + +<p> +The active figures of the propellent Mangis, and the quiet ones of their ladies +at the helm, completed a picture to be recalled with a sigh when we are parted +by thousands of miles from this entrancing valley. +</p> + +<p> +Sopor we had understood to be but an uninteresting place, but we were, perhaps, +inclined to regard things Kashmirian through somewhat rosy spectacles. Anyhow, +we rather liked Sopor. Mooring close alongside a remarkably picturesque +building standing in the midst of a smooth green lawn, which was once, I +believe, a dâk bungalow, we halted to make arrangements for the hire of coolies +and ponies to take us inland, and I went off to the post-office for letters and +to make inquiries as to the probable depth of water in the river Pohru. +</p> + +<p> +Our skipper, Juma, affirmed that there was no water to speak of; but Juma +probably—nay, certainly—prefers the <i>otium</i> of a sojourn at +Sopor to the toil of punting up the Pohru. +</p> + +<p> +The postmaster declared that there was lots of water, but qualified his +optimism by saying that it was falling fast. So we arranged for our land +transport of ponies for ourselves, and a dandy for Hesketh, to meet us one +march up the river at Nopura, while we ourselves set forward in our boats to +Dubgam, three or four miles down the Jhelum, where the Pohru joins it. At the +entrance are large stores of timber, principally deodar, which is floated down +from the Lolab, stored at Dubgam, and sent thence down country and otherwhere +for sale. The great boom across the river to catch the floating logs had been +carried away in the flood, and merely showed a few melancholy and ineffectual +spikes of wood sticking up above the now calm and sluggish river. +</p> + +<p> +We towed up easily enough, through a quiet and peaceful country, which only +became gorgeous under the alchemy of sunset, reaching Nopura in good time to +tie up before dinner. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Friday, September 29</i>.—On Thursday morning we started, as usual, at +dawn, and proceeded to pole and haul our way up the devious channel of the +Pohru. Some four or five miles we accomplished successfully, although there +were ominous signs of a gradual lack of water, until we came upon a hopeless +shallow, where the river, instead of concentrating its energies on one deep and +narrow channel, had run to waste over a wide bed, where the wrinkling wavelets +showed the golden brown of the gravel just below the surface. Our big dounga +stuck hard and fast at once, and Captain Jurna promptly gave up all hope of +getting farther. He was, in fact, greatly gratified to find his prophesies come +true, and an insufferable air of “I told you so” overspread his +face as he wagged his head with mock sorrow, and gently poked the bottom with +his pole to show how firmly fixed we were. +</p> + +<p> +Having an invalid with us, however, it was important to gain every easy mile we +could, and it was not until all the fleet in turn had attempted to cross the +shallow, and failed, that we made up our minds to take to our land transport. +It was uncommonly hot in the full glare of the sun as Hesketh in his dandy, +Jane on her “tattoo,” and I on foot set forward for the forest +house at Harwan, which lay some five miles away across the fields, where the +rice is now being busily cut. +</p> + +<p> +At the foot of a very brown and parched-looking hill stood the little wooden +hut, facing the valley of the Pohru and the Kaj-nag range. Hot and thirsty, we +blessed the good Mr. Blunt, the kindly forest officer, who had so courteously +given us permission to use the forest huts of the Lolab and the Machipura. Our +blessings of Blunt turned swiftly to curses directed towards the chowkidar, who +was not to be seen, and who had left the hut firmly fastened from within. An +attempt to force the door brought upon us the resentment of a highly irritable +swarm of big red wasps, who plainly regarded us as objectionable intruders; and +Jane was really getting quite cross (she says—she always does—that +it was I who lost my temper)—before the bold sweeper, prying round the +back premises, found an unbarred window, and the joy bells rang once more. +</p> + +<p> +The Colonel turned up from the Malingam direction, and pitched his tent in the +rest-house compound; and, as the afternoon grew cooler, he and I sallied forth +to select a few chikor for the pot. +</p> + +<p> +The chikor is extremely like the ordinary European redleg or Barbary partridge, +not only in colouring, but in habit, loving the same dry, scrub-covered +country, and preferring, like him, to run rather than fly when pursued. The +chikor, however, is certainly far superior in the capacity of what fowl +fanciers call “a table bird,” being, in fact, truly excellent +eating. +</p> + +<p> +He is not an altogether easy bird to shoot, owing to his annoying predilection +for the steepest and rockiest hillsides, and those most densely clothed in +spiny jungle, wherein lurking, he chooses the inopportune moment when the +sportsman is hopelessly entangled, like Isaac’s ram, to rise chuckling +and flee away to another hiding-place. +</p> + +<p> +Without dogs, he would be often extremely hard to find; but unluckily for +himself, being a true Kashmiri bird, he cannot help making a noise, and thereby +betraying his presence. His corpse, when dead, is hard to find in the jungle, +and a runner is, of course, hopeless without canine help. It is well, +therefore, to kill him as dead as possible, and to that end I used No. 4 shot, +with, I think, a certain advantage over Walter, who shot with No. 6, and who, +in consequence, lost several birds. +</p> + +<p> +The friendliness and sociability of the beasts and birds of Kashmir has been a +great joy to us. The thing can be overdone, though, and both the wasps and the +rats of Harwan were inclined to overstep the bounds of decorum. +</p> + +<p> +The latter were obviously overjoyed to see visitors, and visions of unlimited +plunder from our festive board would, of course, put them somewhat above +themselves. Still, they should have refrained from rioting so openly around our +beds as soon as the lights were out, and Jane was naturally indignant when a +large one ran over her feet! +</p> + +<p> +On Friday morning we left Harwan, pretty early, as usual, for it is still +somewhat too warm to travel comfortably in the middle of the day. The Colonel +(always an early bird) got away first, followed by our invalid in his dandy, +while Jane and I remained to hunt the loiterers out of camp. A glorious +morning, and the cheering knowledge that breakfast was in front of us, sent us +merrily along for a mile or two, until branching paths led us to inquire of an +intelligent Kashmiri, who appeared to be busily engaged in reaping rice with a +penknife, as to the road taken by our precursors, especially the tiffin coolie! +</p> + +<p> +The industrious one had seen no sahibs at all pass by. This was a blow, and +Jane and I sat down to review the situation. We finally decided that the son of +the soil was indulging in what the great and good Winston Churchill has called +a “terminological inexactitude,” as the others must have gone by +one of the two roads; so, putting our fortunes to the touch, we took the +left-hand path, and were in due time rewarded by reaching Sogul, and there +finding our pioneers peacefully seated under a tree, and breakfast ready. +</p> + +<p> +Leaving Sogul, we skirted for some miles a bare ridge which rose on the right, +and which looked an ideal ground for chikor, and then turned into a beautiful +valley drained by the Pohru, now quite a small and insignificant stream. +</p> + +<p> +Drogmulla, our objective, lies about fourteen miles from Harwan, and the forest +house is a full mile beyond the village, at the end of a somewhat steep and +winding path. +</p> + +<p> +A welcome sight was the snug rest-house, perched upon a hillock above a fussy +little stream and surrounded by a fine clump of deodars. +</p> + +<p> +A tiny lawn in front was decorated with an artificial tank full of +water-plants, and through the opening, among the trees, we saw the snowy crest +of Shambrywa and the Kaj-nag rising over the deeply-wooded foothills. +</p> + +<p> +Drogmulla was so fascinating a spot, and the weather was so remarkably fine, +that we made up our minds to remain here for a few days. That old red-bearded +snake, the shikari, has sent the Colonel into a seventh heaven of anticipation +by pointing to the encircling forest with promise of “pul-lenty baloo, +sahib, this pul-lace.” We straightway ordained a honk. +</p> + +<p> +Our sick soldier is so much better since leaving Gulmarg that he is able to hop +“around” with considerable activity on his crutches. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Saturday, September</i> 30, 4 P.M.—Walter and I have been bear-honking +all day in a district reputed to be simply crawling with bears. I love +bear-honking; it is such a peaceful occupation. +</p> + +<p> +After a stiff and very hot scramble up a rugged hillside covered with the +infuriating scrub through which nothing but a reptile could crawl easily, the +spot is reached within short range of which (in the opinion of the +“oldest inhabitant,” backed up by the “Snake”) the bear +<i>must</i> pass. +</p> + +<p> +Here the battery of rifles and guns is carefully arranged, and I proceed to +wipe my heated brow and settle down to the calm enjoyment of the honk. Drawing +forth my cigar-case, I am soon wreathed in the fragrant clouds engendered by +the incineration of a halfpenny cheroot, and, with a sigh of satisfaction, I +spread out my writing or sketching materials and proceed to scribble or paint, +calm in the knowledge that nothing on earth is in the least likely to disturb +the flow of ideas, or interrupt the laying on of a broad flat wash. Now and +again, lazily, I lean back to watch the witless hoverings of a big butterfly, +or sleepily listen to the increasing sound of the tom-toms and the yells of the +beaters, whose voices, as those of demons of the pit, rend the peaceful air and +add to my sense of Olympian aloofness! +</p> + +<p> +A feeling of drowsiness steals over me; that succulent cold chikor, followed by +a generous slice of cake upon which I so nobly lunched, clouds somewhat my +active faculties, and the article—“A Bear Battue in the +Himalayas”—which I am engaged in writing for the +<i>Field</i>—seems to flag a little. +</p> + +<p> +Come, come! Begone dull sloth—let me continue— +</p> + +<p> +“As the sound of the beaters swells upon the ear, and the thunder of the +tom-toms grows more insistent, the keen-eyed sportsman grasps more firmly the +lever of his four-barrelled Nordenfeldt and prepares to play upon the bears his +hail of stinging missiles. Hark! The plot is thickening, behind yon dense +screen at the end of the cover the ph—— bears are beginning to +crowd, the pattering of their feet upon the dead leaves sends a thrill through +the beating heart of the expectant sportsman. A few bears break back amid wild +yells from the coolies. One or two odd ones dart out here and there at angles +of the covert. Steady! Steady! Here they are, following the lead of yon fine +old cock; with a whirr and a rush the bouquet is upon us. The shikari, mad with +excitement, presses the second Gatling and the light Howitzer into our hands as +he screams: ‘Bear to right, sahib!—Bear over!!—Bear behind!!! +Bang—bang!’” +</p> + +<p> +“Eh? What? Oh, all right, shikari. Honk finished? Is it? Saw nothing? +Dear me! how very odd. Very well, then gather up my guns and things, and +we’ll go on to the next beat.” +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sunday, October 1</i>.—To-day being Sunday, we have been idle and +happy—sketching, loafing, and enjoying the scenery and the glorious +weather. Our bear-honk yesterday was only productive of annas to the beaters, +but we picked up some chikor on the way home, and we have found mushrooms +growing close to the hut, so that our lower natures are also satisfied. After +lunch I mustered up energy sufficient to take me down to the village to sketch +a native hut which, surrounded by a patch of flaming millet, had struck me on +Friday as an extraordinary bit of colour. Jane and Walter, after many +“prave ’orts” about climbing the ridge behind Drogmulla, +contented themselves with a minor ascent of a knoll about fifty feet high, +while the Lancer, reckless in his increasing activity, managed to trip over his +crutches and give himself an extremely unfortunate fall. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Monday, October 2</i>.—There was a man who, during our bear-honk on +Saturday, rendered himself conspicuous, partly by reason of his likeness to my +shikari, and also because of his complete knowledge of the whereabouts of all +bears for many miles around. He was quite glad to impart much information to +us, and so won upon the sporting but too trustful heart of the brave Colonel, +that he was retained by that officer in order that he might show sport to the +Philistines, and annas and even rupees were bestowed upon him; and he and the +old original “Snake” were sent forward on Saturday evening, as +Joshua and Caleb, to spy out the promised land in the neighbourhood of Tregam. +</p> + +<p> +Lured by rumours of many bears, Walter and I set forth at daylight for Tregam, +leaving Jane and the youthful Lancer (once more, alas! reduced to stiff +bandages and a painful relapse) in possession of the hut. We “hadna gane +a mile—a mile but barely twa,” when the old shikari met us with the +painful intelligence that two sahibs were already at Tregam, and had killed +many bears there, grievously wounding the rest; so we altered course eight +points to port, crossed the Pohru, and made for Rainawari. +</p> + +<p> +A sharp climb over a wooded ridge (on the top of which we halted for +breakfast), followed by a steep descent, brought us into a flat and +well-cultivated plain, which sloped gently from the foothills of the Kaj-nag to +the bed of the Pohru. Everywhere, in the glowing sunlight, the villagers were +busily engaged in reaping the rice, which lay in ripe brown swathes along the +little fields. The walnuts, of which there are a great plenty in this district, +have been lately gathered, some few trees only still remaining, loaded with a +heavy crop, but the main produce lay drying in heaps in the villages as we rode +through. +</p> + +<p> +The road to Rainawari seemed curiously devious. A Kashmiri track seldom shies +at a hill, but pursues its way, heedless of gradient, for its objective; but +this path imitated a corkscrew in its windings, and reduced us to the utmost +limit of our patience before, passing through a small village whose +dull-coloured houses were enlivened with gorgeous festoons of scarlet chilies, +we climbed a steep little hill and found ourselves upon a park-like lawn or +clearing, and facing the cluster of rough wooden shanties which compose the +Rainawari forest bungalow and its outhouses. Behind the huts the densely-wooded +hill drops sharply to where a stream of good and pure water riots among the +maidenhair and mosses. +</p> + +<p> +A large and inquisitive company of apes came up from the wood to take stock of +us, and I sat for a long time watching them as they played about quite close to +me, feeding, chattering, and quarrelling, entirely unconcerned by the presence +of their human spectator. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Friday, October 6</i>.—All Tuesday was spent in honking bear in the +lower woods which stretch far towards the Pohru. The high hills which rise +above, covered with jungle, are said to be too large to work, and I can well +believe it! For the first drive I was posted on a steep bank overlooking a most +lovely little hollow, where the shafts of sunlight fell athwart the grey trunks +and heavy green masses of the pines, lighting up the yellow leaves of the +sumachs till they glowed like gold, and casting a flickering network of strong +lights and shadows among the tangled mazes of undergrowth. A happy family of +magpies, grey-blue above, with barred tails and yellow beaks, flitted about in +restless quest, their constant cries being the only sound which broke the +peaceful stillness, until the faint and distant sound of shouts and tom-toms +showed that the first act of the farce had begun. +</p> + +<p> +Towards the end of the third beat, while I was drowsily digesting tiffin, and, +truly, not far from napping, I was electrified by the report of a rifle, +followed by yells and a second shot! The beaters redoubled their shouts, and +the tom-tommers seemed like to burst their drums. +</p> + +<p> +My shikari, writhing with extreme excitement, hissed, “Baloo, sahib, +baloo!” and began aimlessly running to and fro, apparently hoping to meet +the bear somewhere. It was truly gay for a few minutes, but as nothing further +occurred, and the beaters grew very hoarse with their prodigious efforts, I +hurried on to Walter’s post to learn what had happened. +</p> + +<p> +A bear had suddenly come out of the cover some 40 yards off, and stood to look. +The Colonel missed it, whereupon it dashed forward, passing within a few yards +of him, and he missed it again. It departed at top speed across some open +ground behind him, and gained the great woods which stretch away to the +Kaj-nag, and never shall we see that bear again! The Colonel was much +disgusted, and if language—hot, strong, and plenty of it—could have +slain that bear, he would have dropped dead in his tracks. +</p> + +<p> +The beaters brought up a wonderful tale of how another bear, badly wounded in +the leg, had charged through their lines and gone back. They stuck to their +story, and either a second bear actually existed or they are colossal liars. I +incline to the latter theory. +</p> + +<p> +We had wasted all our luck. No more bears came to look at us, and so, late in +the afternoon, we sought the rest-house and consolation from Jane and Hesketh, +who had arrived from Drogmulla. +</p> + +<p> +I had occasion to deplore the bad manners of the rats at Harwan, but their +conduct was exemplary compared with that of the rats of Rainawari! I had been +writing my journal, according to my custom, before going to sleep, and hardly +had “lights out” been sounded than a rat went off with my candle, +literally from below my very nose. Then, from the inadequately partitioned +chamber where the invalid vainly sought repose, came sounds of +strife—boots and curses flying—followed by an extraordinary +scraping and scuffling. A large rat, having fallen into the big tin bath, was +making bids for freedom by ineffectually leaping up the slippery sides. At last +he contrived to get out, and peace reigned until we managed to get to sleep. +</p> + +<p> +Wednesday was spent honking in the forlorn hope of a bear, I have now spent +more than fourteen days in pursuit of black bear, and I have only seen one. +Every one said to me in spring, “Oh, go to the Lolab, it’s full of +bear,” I went, and was informed that it was a late season and I was too +early—the bears were not yet awake. I was consoled by learning that later +on, when the mulberries were ripe, the berry-loving beasts jostled one another +in the pursuit of the delicacy so much, that they were no sport I went down +from Gulmarg for three days, honking among the mulberries, but saw none. Then I +was told the maize season was undoubtedly the best. Now the maize is full ripe; +the maize fields are tempting in their golden glory, and the only thing wanting +to complete the picture is a big, black bear. +</p> + +<p> +Either my luck has been particularly bad (and I think it has, as the Colonel +got a fine bear below Gulmarg, and had another chance at Rainawari), or else +there are not so many bears in real life as exist in the imaginations of those +who know. My own theory is, that, unless he has remarkable luck, a stranger, in +the hands of an ignorant shikari, and knowing nothing of the language, has but +a remote chance of sport. If the shikari does not happen to know the district +thoroughly, he is necessarily in the hands of the villagers, and has to trust +to them to arrange the beats and place the guns. The villagers want their four +annas for a day’s shouting, but do not know or care if a bear is in the +neighbourhood, so, having planted the gun (and shikari with him), they proceed +to beat after their own fashion, in other words to stroll, in Indian file, like +geese across a common, along the line of least resistance, instead of spreading +out and searching all the thickest jungle. +</p> + +<p> +Much yelling serves both to cheer the sahib, and frighten away any bear which +might otherwise haply frighten them. +</p> + +<p> +I cannot say I regret the time I have spent looking for bear. The scenery has +always been fine—sometimes magnificent, and there has always been a +certain cheering hope, which sustained me as I lay hour after hour in the +Malingam Nullah, or sat expectant amid ever varying and always beautiful glades +and passes, watching the bird life, and storing up scenes and memories which I +know I shall never forget. +</p> + +<p> +Alas! we have but a very few days yet before us in Kashmir, and it is +lamentable, for now the climate is simply perfect, the air clear and clean, and +without the haze of summer; the first crispness of coming autumn making itself +felt most distinctly in the early hours of morning ere +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Nor dim nor red, like God’s own head,<br/> +The glorious sun uprist;” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +and each dawn saw us up and out to watch these sunrises, whose splendour cannot +be expressed on paper. This morning it was more than usually wonderful, the +whole flank of Nanga Parbat and his lesser peaks, turning from clear lemon to +softest rose, stood radiant above the purple shades of the great range which +lies around Gurais. In the middle distance, rising above the level yellow of +the plain, still dim and shadowy below the morning light, rolled wave upon wave +of the blue hills which hold in their embrace the fruitful Lolab. At our feet +the deodars, still dark with the shadow of night, crept up the dewy slope upon +whose top we stood. Then suddenly +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“The sanguine sunrise, with his meteor eyes,” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +flamed over the eastern ridges, and in a flood of glory the soft shadows and +pallid lights of the dawn became merged in the brilliance of a Kashmir autumn +day. +</p> + +<p> +Our march yesterday from Rainawari to Kitardaji was charming. I had no idea +that this Machipura country, which is not much visited by summer sojourners in +Kashmir, was so fine. The district lies along the lower shoulders and foothills +of the Kaj-nag, and, while lacking the savage grandeur of the Lidar or Upper +Sind, yet possesses the charm of infinite variety and, in this early autumn, a +climate in which it is a pure joy to live. On leaving Rainawari we followed up +a river valley for some distance, and then wound through richly cultivated +hollows and past well-wooded hills, where the dark silver firs and the deodars +were lit up by splashes of scarlet and orange, and the deciduous sumach and +thorn-bushes hung out their autumn flags. Walnuts—the trees in many +places turning yellow—were being gathered into heaps, and the apple +trees, reddening in the autumn glow, hung heavy with abundant fruit. +</p> + +<p> +Turning into a narrow gorge, where the trees overhung the path and shaded the +wanderer with many an interlaced bough; where ferns grew in great green clumps, +and the friendly magpies chattered in the luminous shade, I hurried on, having +stayed behind the others to sketch. Up and up, till only pines waved over me, +and the track, leading along the edge of a deep khud, opened out at last upon a +plateau, hot and sunlit; here an entrancing panorama of Nanga Parbat and the +whole range of mountains round Haramok caused me to stop “at gaze” +until a mundane desire for breakfast sent me scurrying down the dusty and +slippery descent to Larch, where I found, as I had hoped, the rest of the party +assembled expectant around the tiffin basket, while the necromancer, Sabz Ali, +had just succeeded in producing the most delightful stew, omelette, and coffee +from the usual native toy kitchen, made, apparently, in a few minutes with a +couple of stones and a dab of mud! +</p> + +<p> +It has been an unfailing marvel to us how, in storm or calm, rain or fine, the +native cook seems always able to produce a hot meal with such apparently +inadequate materials as he has at his command. Give him a fire in the open, +screened by stones and a mud wall, a <i>batterie de cuisine</i> limited to one +or two war-worn “degchies,” and let him have a village fowl and +half-a-dozen tiny eggs, and he will in due time serve up, with modest pride, a +most excellent repast. +</p> + +<p> +The remaining half of our twelve-mile march lay along a continually rising +track, which finally brought us to Kitardaji, a cosy pine-built hut, perched +upon a hill clothed with deodars, at the foot of which ran the inevitable +stream. +</p> + +<p> +This, alas! is our last Kashmir camping-ground, and it is one of the most +charming of all. +</p> + +<p> +At 8.15 this morning we bade farewell to Kitardaji. We had got up before dawn +to see the sunrise, but afterwards took things leisurely, as the march is short +to Baramula, and our boats were to be in waiting there, and we had made all +arrangements for a landau and ekkas to be in readiness to take us down to Rawal +Pindi, while the Colonel returned up the Jhelum for more shooting before +rejoining his wife at Bandipur. +</p> + +<p> +The march of about thirteen miles from Kitardaji to Baramula is fine—the +views of Nanga Parbat in the early hours, before the sun’s full strength +cast a golden glow over the distance, were magnificent, and long we lingered +upon the last ridge, gazing over the great valley, ringed with its guardian +mountains, ere we sadly turned our backs for the last time on the scene, and +wended our way downward to Baramula and our boats. +</p> + +<p> +Kashmir seems to be as difficult to get out of as to get into! What was our +amazement and disgust to find neither landau nor ekkas, nor, apparently, any +chance of getting them! +</p> + +<p> +Baramula was in a ferment, and wild confusion reigned because the Viceroy, +having somewhat suddenly determined to come to Jammu, the Maharajah and all his +suite, together with the Resident and his belongings, were to start down the +road at once, and all transport was commandeered by the State. Here was a coil! +Officers innumerable, who had stayed in Kashmir until the limit of their leave, +were struggling vainly to get on, and had got to Baramula only to find all +transport in the hands of the State officials. Some few had, by fair means or +foul, got hold of an ekka or two and hidden them; others had seized ponies, but +nothing to harness them to. A few of the younger men set forth on foot, and +others had their servants out in ambush on the roads to try and collect +transport. +</p> + +<p> +It was most important that we should get on, as Hesketh had to be in Pindi to +go before a medical board on the 14th, in order to be invalided home to +England; and as he was most anxious to catch a steamer sailing on the 25th, he +had no time to spare. +</p> + +<p> +I telegraphed to Sir Amar Singh for authority to engage ekkas, and I sent for +the Tehsildhar of Baramulla to complain of my ekkas being taken. He appeared in +due course—a somewhat pert little person—who promised to do what he +could, which I knew would be nothing. A farewell dinner on board Walter’s +ship concluded a fairly busy day. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Saturday, October 7</i>.—A strenuous day, to say the least of it. Sir +Amar Singh most courteously met my wishes, and himself directed the local +authorities to assist me. Armed with this power, I again sent for the +Tehsildhar, who promised many ekkas, but appeared to have some difficulty in +fulfilling his promises. I spent the forenoon in hunting transport, sending out +my servants also in pursuit. The Tehsildhar produced one ekka with great pomp, +as earnest of what he could and would do later on. +</p> + +<p> +During the afternoon the landau turned up from Srinagar, and at 6 P.M. one of +my myrmidons rushed in to say that two ekkas had arrived at the dâk bungalow. +</p> + +<p> +It was but a few yards away, and in a couple of minutes I was on the spot. The +ekkas had come up from Pindi, and the sahib who had lured them to Baramula +seemed astonished at my method of taking them over. In an uncommonly short +while the ekkas were parked, with the landau, close to the boats and under +strict watch, while all harness was brought on board my dounga, just in time, +as native officials of some sort romped up and claimed the ekkas, and +threatened to beat my servants. It was explained to them gently, but firmly, +that if they touched my ekkas or landau they would taste the waters of the +Jhelum. We were then left in peaceful possession. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tuesday, October 10</i>.—On Sunday morning we really saw our way to +making a start. We had three ekkas collected, and the Tehsildhar produced a +fourth with a great flourish, as though in expectation of a heavy tip. The +landau was being piled with odds and ends while the last bits of business were +being got through. Juma and his crew were paid and tipped (grumbling, of +course, for the Kashmiri is a lineal descendant of the horse-leech). The +shikari went to Smithson, and the sweeper and permanent coolie were transferred +to the assistant forest officer, while Ayata (in charge of Freddie, the +blackbird) scrambled into the leading ekka. +</p> + +<p> +By noon all was ready, and amid the rattle and jingle of many harness bells and +the salaams of the domestics, we bowled out of Baramula, and set forward down +the valley of the Jhelum. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap15"></a>CHAPTER XV<br/> +DELHI AND AGRA</h2> + +<p> +The journey down was uneventful, and quite unlike the journey up, when we had +been briskly occupied in dodging landslips for days. A good road, white and +dry, and sloping steadily downward; a good pair of ponies, strong and willing; +a roomy landau, wherein Hesketh—still suffering from his fall at +Drogmulla—could stretch himself in comparative comfort, combined to bring +us to Kohala this afternoon in a state of excellent preservation. Here we +crossed the bridge, which brought us to the right bank of the river—from +Kashmir to British territory. +</p> + +<p> +Kohala is the proud possessor of one of the very worst dâk bungalows yet +discovered. This seems disappointing when stepping under the folds of the Union +Jack full of high hope and confidence. +</p> + +<p> +Climbing up through a particularly noisome bazaar to the bungalow, I was met +with the information that it was already full. I said that was a pity, but that +room must be found for my party. +</p> + +<p> +Room was got somehow, a dâk bungalow being an extraordinarily elastic dwelling. +Hesketh was stored in a little tent. I lodged in the dining-room, and Jane took +up her quarters in a sort of dressing-room kindly given up by a lady, who +bravely sought asylum with a sister-in-law and a remarkably strong-lunged baby. +I believe more travellers arrived later, for—although, thanks to Sir Amax +Singh and good luck, we gained a good start at Baramula—now the tongas +are beginning to roll in and the plot to thicken. +</p> + +<p> +I cannot think where the last arrivals bestowed themselves—not on the +roof, I trust, for a thunderstorm, accompanied by the usual vigorous squall of +wind, fell upon us during the night, and raged so furiously that I was greatly +relieved to see the Lancer’s little tent still braving the battle and the +breeze in the morning. +</p> + +<p> +We had a long day before us, so started in good time to make the tedious ascent +to Murree. It rained steadily, and a cold wind swept down the river valley as +we began to make our slow way up the long, long hill. +</p> + +<p> +I never knew milestones so extraordinarily far apart as those which mark the +distance between Kohala and Murree. There are twenty-five of them, distributed +along a weary winding road which extends without an apparent variation of +gradient from Kohala to the Murree cemetery. The rise from the river level to +Murree is 5000 feet, and this, in a heavy landau over a road often deep in red +mud, is a heavy strain on equine endurance and human patience. +</p> + +<p> +We had a fresh pair of horses waiting for us half-way up the hill, but they +proved absolutely useless, being obviously already dead tired and quite unable +to drag the carriage through any of the muddier places even with every one but +the invalid on foot. So we apologetically put the gallant greys in again, poor +beasties, and they took us up well. +</p> + +<p> +From the cemetery the road runs fairly level to where, upon rounding a sharp +corner, the hill station of Murree comes into sight, clinging to its hill-tops +and overlooking the far flat plains beyond Pindi. +</p> + +<p> +I cannot imagine how anybody would willingly abide in Murree who could go +anywhere else for the hot weather. There being no level ground, there is no +polo, no cricket, and no golf. There is no river to fish in, and I do not think +that there is anything at all to shoot. Doubtless, however, it has its +compensations. Probably it abounds in pretty mem-sahibs, who with bridge and +Badminton combine to oil the wheels of life, and make it merry on the Murree +hills. +</p> + +<p> +Leaving the station high on the left, we dipped in a most puzzling manner down +a slope through a fine wood giving magnificent views towards the hills of our +beloved Kashmir, and presently came to “Sunny Bank,” whence a steep +road seemed to run sharply hack and up to Murree itself. It was late, and both +we and our unfortunate horses were tired, but a hasty peep into the little inn +showed it to be quite impossible as a lodging, and a biting wind sent us +shivering down the hill as fast as might be to seek rest and warmth at Tret. +</p> + +<p> +The good greys took us down the eleven miles in a very short time, and we +pulled up at the dâk bungalow at 7.30, having been just twelve hours doing the +forty miles from Kohala. +</p> + +<p> +The dâk bungalow and all the compound in front was crowded, detachments <i>en +route</i>, from Murree to Pindi having halted here for the night. Hesketh was +lucky enough to share a room with a brother Lancer, and a mixed bag of Gunners +and Hussars made up a cheery dinner-table. +</p> + +<p> +The only member of the party showing signs of collapse was the unfortunate +Freddie, who, shaken up in his small cage for three days in an ekka, seemed in +piteous plight, feathers (what there were of them) ruffled and unkempt, and +eyes dim and half closed. Poor dear, it was only sleep he wanted, for next +morning he showed up, as his fond owner remarked, “bright as a +button!” +</p> + +<p> +<i>12th</i>.—The road from Tret to Pindi seemed tame to us, but probably +charming to the horses, first down a few gently sloping hills, and then for the +remainder of its six-and-twenty miles it wound its dull and dusty length along +the level. +</p> + +<p> +We halted for our last picnic lunch in a roadside garden full of loquat trees +and big purple hibiscus. The only curious thing here was a pi-dog which refused +to eat cold duck! Certainly it was a <i>very</i> tough duck, but still, I do +not think a pi-dog should he so fastidious. +</p> + +<p> +A few more level dusty miles, and we rattled into Rawal Pindi, where, after +depositing our sick man safely in his own mess precincts, we proceeded to +ensconce ourselves in Flashman’s Hotel, which is certainly far better +than the Lime Tree, where we stayed before. Indian hotels are about the worst +in the world. We have sampled rough dens in Spain, in Tetuan, and in +Corsica—especially in Corsica, but then they are unpretentious inns in +unfrequented villages, whereas in India you find in world-famous cities such as +Agra or Delhi the most comfortless dens calling themselves hotels—hotels +where you hardly dare eat half the food for fear of typhoid, and will not eat +the rest because it is so unsavoury! +</p> + +<p> +It may be argued that the hotels, if bad, are cheap, and that one cannot +reasonably expect much in return for five or six rupees per day; it seems, +however, that in a country where food and labour cost next to nothing, a good +landlord should be able to “do” his customers well upon five +rupees, and make a substantial profit into the bargain. +</p> + +<p> +Probably, as the facilities for travel are rapidly increasing, and India is now +as easy to reach as Italy was in days not so long by, the hotels will soon +improve. Hospitality, which is still to-day greater in the East than in our +more selfish Western regions, and which has, until quite recently, obviated for +strangers and pilgrims the necessity for hotels, is now unable to cope with the +increasing flood of visitors and wanderers; as the need becomes more pressing, +so will the supply, consequent upon the demand, improve both in quality and +quantity; and we have already heard of the new Taj Mahal Hotel at Bombay, the +fame of which has been trumpeted through India, and which is said to rival in +luxury the palaces of Ritz! +</p> + +<p> +The real and serious difficulty, and one which at present seems insurmountable, +is to secure cleanliness and safety in that Augean stable—the cook-house. +Until the native can be brought to understand the inadvisability of using +tainted water and unclean utensils, and of permitting the ubiquitous fly to +pervade the larder—until, I say, that millennium can be attained, the +danger of enteric and other ills will always be very great in Indian hotels. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Friday, October</i> 13.—Lunch with Dr. Munro, who surprised us +somewhat by having married a wife since we played golf and bridge together at +Gulmarg only a few weeks ago. Tea, a farewell repast with our invalid—who +goes before a medical board in a few days, and who will then be doubtless sent +home on long sick leave—and the despatch of our heavy luggage direct to +Bombay, occupied us pretty fully for the day; and in the evening, after dinner, +we took up our residence in a carriage drawn up in a siding to be attached to +the 6.30 mail in the morning. Our last recollection of Pindi was a vision of +the faithful Ayata, paid, tipped, and provided with a flaming +“chit,” flapping along the road in the bright moonlight, with all +his worldly possessions, <i>en route</i> for Abbotabad and home. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Saturday, October</i> 14.—A prodigious amount of banging, whistling, +and yelling seemed to be necessary before we could be coupled up to the early +train, and sent flying towards Lahore. It was impossible to sleep, and I was +peacefully watching the landscape as it slid past, first in the pink flush of +early dawn, and gradually losing colour as the sun, gaining in strength, +reduced everything to a white hot glow, when, scraping and bumping into a +wayside station, we were suddenly informed that, owing to hot bearings or +heated axles or something, we must quit our carriage at once, and so, half +dressed and wholly wrathful, we were shot out on a hot and exceedingly gritty +platform, with our hand luggage and bedding all of a heap, and with the whole +length of the train to traverse to attain our new carriage. Sabz Ali being +curled up asleep in an “intermediate,” was all unwitting of this +upheaval. The officials were impatient, and so Jane and I were in a thoroughly +unchristian frame of mind by the time we were stowed, hot and greatly fussed, +into a stifling compartment, whose dust-begrimed windows long withstood all +endeavours to open them. +</p> + +<p> +We reached Lahore about noon, and, having some six hours to dispose of there, +we spent them in calm contemplation, sitting on the verandah of Nedou’s +Hotel. It was really too hot to think of sight-seeing. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Thursday, October 19</i>.—Another night in the train brought us to +Delhi at dawn, and we drove up to the execrable caravansary of Mr. Maiden. I do +not propose to write much about Delhi. Every one who has been in India has +visited the capital of the Moguls, whose wealth of splendid buildings would +alone have rendered it a supreme attraction for the sight-seer, even had it not +played the part it did in the Mutiny, and been memorable as the scene of the +storming of the Kashmir Gate and the death of John Nicholson. +</p> + +<p> +We, personally, carried away from Delhi an uncomfortable sense of +disappointment. It was very hot, and Jane fell a victim to the heat or +something, and took to her bed in the comfortless hotel, while I prowled sadly +about the baking streets, and tried to work up an enthusiasm which I did not +feel. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as Jane was fit, we joined forces with a young fellow-countryman and +his sister, who were the only other English people in the hotel, and drove out +to see the Kutab Minar. On arrival we found a comfortable dâk bungalow, and, +having made an excellent breakfast, sallied forth to view the Kutab. May I +confess that I was again a little disappointed? I do not really know exactly +why, but the great tower, whose fluted shaft, dark red in the sunglow, shoots +up some 270 feet into the air, did not appeal to me. It is like no other +column—it is unique, marvellous,—but it leaves me cold. +</p> + +<p> +The splendid arch of the screen of the old temple, and the lovely columns of +the Jain temple opposite, attracted me far more than the Kutab Minar. +</p> + +<p> +Jane and young Buxton went off to see a native jump down a well fifty feet deep +for four annas. The performance sounded curious, but unpleasant. The sightseers +were much impressed! Meanwhile, Miss Buxton and I discovered a very modern and +exceedingly hideous little Hindu temple, painted in the most appalling +manner—altogether a gem of grotesqueness, and truly delightful and +refreshing. +</p> + +<p> +Tea in front of the dâk bungalow, in a corner blazing with “gold +mohurs” and rosy oleanders, while the driver and the syce harnessed the +lean pair of horses, a final visit to the Kutab and the great arch, and we +fared back over the eleven bumpy miles that lay between us and Delhi. +</p> + +<p> +A good deal of my spare time, while Jane was <i>hors de combat</i>, was spent +in the jewellers’ shops of the Chandni chowk, the principal +merchants’ quarter of Delhi. I do not think that anything very special in +the way of a “bargain” is to be obtained by the amateur, although +stones are undoubtedly cheaper than in London. I saw little really fine +jewellery, probably because I was obviously unlikely to be a big buyer, but +many good spinels, dark topaz, and rough emeralds. The stones I wanted I failed +to get. Alexandrites were not, and pink topaz scarce and dear. The dealers +generally tried to sell pale spinels as pink topaz. Peridot are cheaper, I +think, at home, and certainly in Cairo, and the only amethysts worth looking at +are sent out from Germany. The pale ones of the country come from Jaipur. +By-the-bye, the best-coloured amethysts I ever remember seeing were in Clermont +Ferrand. +</p> + +<p> +Delhi has always been connected with gems in my mind. I am not certain why. +Partly, perhaps, because the famous Peacock Throne of Shah Jehan stood in the +Palace here. I cannot resist giving the description of it in the words of +Tavernier, who saw it about 1655, and who describes it as follows:— +</p> + +<p> +“This is the largest throne; it is in form like one of our field-beds, +six foot long and four broad. The cushion at the back is round like a bolster; +the cushions on the sides are flat. I counted about a hundred and eight pale +rubies in collets about this throne, the least whereof weighed a hundred +carats. Emeralds I counted about a hundred and forty.” +</p> + +<p> +“The under part of the canopy is all embroidered with pearls and +diamonds, with a fringe of pearls round about. Upon the top of the canopy, +which is made like an arch with four paws, stands a peacock with his tail +spread, consisting entirely of sapphires and other proper-coloured stones;[1] +the body is of beaten gold enchased with several jewels; and a great RUBY upon +his breast, to which hangs a pearl that weighs fifty carats. On each aide of +the peacock stand two nosegays as high as the bird, consisting of various sorts +of flowers, all of beaten gold enamelled.” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[1] “Au dessus du ciel qui est faite en voûte à quatre pans on voit un +Paon, qui a la queue relevée fait de Saphirs bleus et autres pierres de +couleur.”—T<small>AVERNIER</small>, livre ii. chap. viii. +</p> + +<p> +“When the king seats himself upon the throne there is a transparent +jewel, with a diamond appendant of eighty or ninety carats weight, encompassed +with rubies and emeralds, so hung that it is always in his eye. The twelve +pillars also, that uphold the canopy, are set with rows of fair pearl, round, +and of an excellent water, that weigh from six to ten carats apiece.” +</p> + +<p> +“At the distance of four feet, upon each side of the throne, are placed +two umbrellas, the handles of which are about eight feet high, covered with +diamonds, the umbrellas themselves being of crimson velvet, embroidered and +fringed with pearl.” +</p> + +<p> +“This is the famous throne which Tamerlane began and Shah Jehan finished; +and is really reported to have cost a hundred and sixty millions and five +hundred thousand livres of our money.” +</p> + +<p> +One can picture the enraptured diamond merchant examining this masterpiece of +Oriental luxury with awe-struck eye, appraising the size and lustre of each +gem, and taking the fullest notes with which to dazzle his countrymen on +returning to the more prosaic Europe from what was then indeed the +“Gorgeous East!” This world-famous throne was seized by Nadir Shah, +when he sacked Delhi in 1739, and carried away (together with our Koh-i-noor +diamond) into Persia. Dow, who saw the famous throne some twenty years before +Tavernier, describes <i>two</i> peacocks standing behind it with their tails +expanded, which were studded with jewels. Between the peacocks stood a parrot, +life size, cut out of a single emerald! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Friday, October</i> 20.—Yesterday at 6 A.M. we spurned the dust of +Delhi, hot and blinding, from our feet and clambered into the train, which +whirled us across the sun-baked plain to Agra. +</p> + +<p> +There has been a woeful shortage of rain in the Punjab and Rajputana, and a +famine seems imminent—not a great and universal famine, as, the monsoon +having been irregular, only some districts have suffered to a serious extent, +and they can be supplied from elsewhere, whereas in the great famine of 1901 +the drought parched the whole land, and no help could be given by one State to +another, all lying equally under the sun’s curse. Not a great famine, +perhaps; yet, to one accustomed to the genial juiciness of the West, the miles +and miles of waterless hot plains, stretching away to where the horizon +flickered in the glare, the brown and parched vegetation, the lean and +hungry-looking cattle, tended by equally lean and famished herds, caused the +monotonous view from the carriage windows to be strangely depressing. +</p> + +<p> +This is the very battle-ground of Nature and the British Raj. We have given +peace and, to a certain extent, prosperity to the teeming millions of India, +and they have increased and multiplied until the land is overburthened, and +Nature, with relentless will, bids Famine and Pestilence lay waste the cities +and the plains. Then Science, with irrigation works and improved hygiene, +strives hard to gain a victory, but still the struggle rages doubtfully. +</p> + +<p> +Agra we liked as much as we disliked Delhi. To begin with creature comforts +(and the well-being of the body produces a pair of <i>couleur de rose</i> +spectacles for the mental eye), Laurie’s Hotel at Agra is very much more +comfortable than the den we abode in at Delhi, and after a good tiffin we set +forth with light hearts to see the Fort. +</p> + +<p> +This, the accumulated achievement of the greatest of the Mogul Emperors, is a +magnificent monument of their power and pride. The earliest part, built by +Akbar, is all of rich red sandstone. The great hall of audience and other +portions show his broad-minded tolerance and catholicity of taste in being +almost pure Hindu in style and decoration. Later, with Jehangir and Shah Jehan, +the high-water mark of sumptuousness was attained in the use of pure white +marble, lavishly inlaid with coloured stones. +</p> + +<p> +As we wandered through halls and corridors of marble most richly wrought, while +the sun-glare outside did but emphasise the cool shade within, or filter softly +through the lace-like tracery of pierced white-marble screens, one longed to +reclothe these glorious skeletons with all the pomp of their dead +magnificence—for one magic moment replace the Great Mogul upon his +peacock throne, surround him with a glittering crowd of courtiers and +attendants, clothe the wide marble floors upon which they stand with richest +carpets from the looms of Persia and the North, and drape the tall white +columns with rustling canopies of silk. +</p> + +<p> +Before the great audience hall let the bare garden-court again glow with a +million blooms; there let the peacocks sun themselves, their living jewels +putting to shame the gems that burn back from aigrette and from sword-hilt; see +and hear the cool waters sparkling once again from their long-dried founts, +flashing in the white sunlight, and flowing over ducts cunningly inlaid with +zigzag bands to imitate the ripple of the mountain stream. +</p> + +<p> +The dead frame alone is left of all this gorgeous picture. The imperishable +marble glows white in the sunlight as it did in the days of Shah Jehan. The +great red bastions of the Fort frown over the same placid Jumna, and watch each +morning the pearly dome of the Taj Mahal rise like a moon in the dawn-glow, +shimmer through the parching glare of an Indian day, and at eve sink, rosy, +into the purple shadows of swiftly-falling night, as they did when Shah Jehan +sat “in the sunset-lighted balcony with his eyes fixed on the snow-white +pile at the bend of the river, and his heart full of consolation of having +wrought for her he loved, through the span of twenty years, a work that she had +surely accepted at the last.”[2] +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[2] <i>The Web of Indian Life</i> +</p> + +<p> +We spent a long afternoon in the Fort, and drove out finally through the +monstrous gateway in a little Victoria, feeling all the time that none but +elephants in all their glory of barbaric caparison could pass through such a +portal worthily. +</p> + +<p> +The moon was full almost a week ago, unfortunately, so we determined that, +failing moonlight, our first visit to the Taj should be at sunset. +</p> + +<p> +The two miles’ drive along an excellent road was delightful, and the +approach to the Taj has been laid out with much skill as a beautiful bit of +landscape garden. This care is due to Lord Curzon, who has taken Agra and its +monuments into his especial keeping. +</p> + +<p> +A very small golf-course has been laid out, and the familiar form of the +enthusiast could be seen, blind to everything but the flight of time and his +Haskell, hurrying round to save the last of the daylight. +</p> + +<p> +Beneath a tree was laid out a tea equipage, and a few ladies indolently putting +showed that, after all, the game was not taken too seriously. +</p> + +<p> +I have no intention of trying to describe the Taj Mahal. The attempt has +already been made a thousand times. I may merely remark that the detestable +Indian miniatures, and little ivory or marble models that are, alas! so common, +are incapable of giving an idea, otherwise than misleading, of this wonderful +building, which is not—as they would vainly show it—glaring, +staring, and hard, nor does its formality seem other than just what it should +be. +</p> + +<p> +As we saw it first—opalescent in the soft, clear light of +sunset—the chief impression it made upon us was that of size; for this we +were quite unprepared. +</p> + +<p> +As we approached it from the great red entrance arch, along a smooth path +bordering the central stretch of still, translucent water, the lovely dome rose +fairy-like from the masses of trees that, in their turn, formed a background of +solemn green for gorgeous patches of colour, in bloom and leaf, which glowed on +either side as we advanced. +</p> + +<p> +Ascending a flight of steps to the wide terrace, all of whitest marble, upon +which the Taj is raised, we realised that the detail of carving and of inlay +was as perfect as the general effect of the whole. +</p> + +<p> +High as my expectations had been raised, I was not disappointed in the Taj, and +that is saying much, for one’s pre-formed ideas are apt to soar beyond +bounds and to suffer the fate of Icarus. At the same time, I cannot agree with +Fergusson that the Taj Mahal is the most beautiful building in the world. I do +not admit that it is possible to compare structures of such widely divergent +types as the Parthenon, the Cathedral of Chartres, the Campanile of Giotto, and +the Taj Mahal, and pronounce in favour of any one of them. It is as vain as to +contend that the “Rime of the Ancient Mariner” is a finer poem than +Keats’ “Eve of St. Agnes,” or that the “Erl +Konig” is better music than “The Moonlight Sonata.” +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps it is not too much to say that it is the loveliest tomb in the world, +and the finest specimen of Mohammedan architecture in existence. If I dared to +criticise what would appear to be faultless, I should humbly suggest that the +four corner minarets are not worthy of the centre building, reminding one +rather of lighthouses. +</p> + +<p> +We spent a second day in Agra, revisiting the Fort and the Taj rather than +seeing anything new. We could have hired a motor and rushed out for a hurried +visit to Fatehpur-Sighri, and there was temptation in the idea; but we decided +to content ourselves with the abundant food for eye and mind which we had in +these two wonderful buildings, and in the evening we took the train for Jaipur. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Saturday, October 21.</i>—One is apt to be cross and fussed and +generally upset on being landed on a strange platform in the dark at 5.30 A.M., +as we were at Jaipur, but much solace lay in the fact that a comfortable +carriage stood waiting us and a most kind and genial host received us on the +broad verandah of his bungalow, and the cheering fact was borne in upon us that +we shall have henceforward but little to do with Indian hotels. +</p> + +<p> +How one appreciates a large, cool room, good servants, good food, and last, but +not least, the society of one’s kind, after two or three weeks of racket +and discomfort by road and rail. +</p> + +<p> +A restful morning enlivened us sufficiently to enjoy a garden party at the +Residency in the afternoon, where not only the English society, but a large +number of native gentlemen, were playing lawn-tennis with laudable energy. +</p> + +<p> +After Kashmir, where Sir Amar Singh is the only native who mixes at all with +the English, it was interesting to see and meet on terms of good-fellowship +these Rajput aristocrats. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Sunday, October</i> 22.—The city of Jaipur is, I think, principally +interesting as being modern and enlightened among those of the native states. +</p> + +<p> +When the ancient city of Ambér was abandoned, principally on account of its +scanty water-supply, Jaipur was built upon a regular and prearranged plan, +having a great wide street down the centre, crossed by two large thoroughfares +at right angles, thus dividing the town into six rectangular blocks. +</p> + +<p> +We drove into the city in the afternoon, and were much impressed by its +airiness and cleanliness. The houses are all coated with pink stucco, picked +out with white, which, in the bright atmosphere, has, at a little distance, a +charming effect. On closer inspection the real tawdriness and want of solidity +of the work become painfully apparent, and the designs in white upon the pink, +in which the wayward fancy of each householder runs riot, generally leave much +to be desired, both in design and execution. +</p> + +<p> +The broad, clean main streets were a perfect kaleidoscope of colour and +movement. Men in pink pugarees—in lemon-coloured—in emerald green; +women in blood-red saris, bearing shining brass pots upon their heads, all +talking, shouting, jostling—a large family of monkeys on a neighbouring +roof added their quota of conversation—calm oxen, often with red-painted +horns and pink-streaked bodies, camels, asses, horses, strolled about or pushed +their way through the throng. No Hindu cow would ever dream of making way for +anybody. Yes, though! Here comes an elephant rolling along, and the holy ones +with humps discreetly retire aside, covering their retreat before a <i>force +majeure</i> by stepping up to the nearest greengrocer’s stall and +abstracting a generous mouthful of the most succulent of his wares. +</p> + +<p> +Rising in the midst of a lovely garden, just outside the city, is the Albert +Hall, a remarkably fine structure, built in accordance with the best traditions +of Mohammedan architecture adapted to modern requirements by our host, the +designer. It contains both a museum of the products of Rajputana, and also an +instructive collection of objects of art and science, gathered together for the +edification of the intelligent native. +</p> + +<p> +We would willingly have spent hours examining the pottery and brass work for +which Jaipur is famous, or in making friends with the denizens of the great +aviary in the garden, but time is short, and even the baby panther could only +claim a few minutes of our devotion. +</p> + +<p> +The Palace of the Maharajah is neither particularly interesting nor beautiful, +and we did not visit it further than to inspect the ancient observatory built +by Jey Singh, with its huge sundial, whose gnomon stands 80 feet above the +ground! What we are pleased to call a superstitious attention to times lucky or +unlucky has given to astronomical observations in the East an unscientific +importance which they have not had for centuries in Europe.[3] A slight attack +of fever prevented me from going to Ambér; so I stayed at home, peacefully +absorbing quinine, subsequently extracting the following from Jane’s +diary:— +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[3] I fear this is somewhat misleading. Jey Singh was, <i>par excellence</i>, +an astronomer, not an astrologer,—T. R. S. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Tea ready, mem-sahib.’ The familiar and somewhat plaintive +sound of Sabz Ali’s voice roused me, as it so often has in tent, forest +hut, or matted dounga;” +</p> + +<p> +but this time I was really puzzled for a moment, on awaking, to find myself in +a real comfortable spring bed, white-enamelled and mosquito-netted, while for +roof I only saw the clear, pale, Indian sky. Then it was I remembered that, at +my host’s suggestion, my bed had been carried out into the shrubbery, and +that I had fallen asleep, lulled by the howling of the jackals and the rustle +of the flying squirrels in the gold mohur-tree overhead. +</p> + +<p> +“Springing on to the cool, grassy carpet, and dressing quickly, to gain +as much time as possible before the rising of the hot October sun, I was soon +ready for breakfast, which Miss Macgregor and I had in the garden among the +parrots and the pigeons, and the dear little squirrels. We were ready for the +road before seven, and were soon trotting along between dusty hedges of +gaunt-fingered cactus, shaded here and there by neem trees and peepuls.” +</p> + +<p> +“Our smart victoria was lent by a Rajput friend of Sir Swinton’s, +and he had also sent us his private secretary as guide and escort—a very +thin young man in a black sateen coat and gay-flowered waistcoat.” +</p> + +<p> +“Through the pink-stuccoed streets of Jaipur we threaded our +way—slowly, on account of the holy pigeons breakfasting in thousands on +the road, and the sacred bulls, who barely deigned to move aside to let us +pass.” +</p> + +<p> +“It appears to be the custom, when a man dies, for his relatives to let +loose a bull <i>in memoriam</i>, and the happy beast forthwith sets out to live +a life of sloth and luxury. The city is his, and every green-grocer in it is +only too much honoured if the fastidious animal will condescend to make free +with his cabbages.” +</p> + +<p> +“Once clear of the crowded streets, we got on quicker, and about six +miles out we found the elephant which had been sent out from the royal stable +to carry us to Ambér. We climbed upon her (it was a lady elephant) in a great +hurry, by means of a rickety sort of ladder, as we were told that an elephant, +if ‘fresh,’ was apt to rise up suddenly, to the great detriment of +the passenger who had ‘not arrived.’ She was a very +friendly-looking creature though, and her little eyes twinkled most affably; +her face was decorated in a scheme of red and green, and her saddle was a sort +of big mattress surrounded by a railing.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am no judge of the paces of elephants, but this one seemed uncommonly +rough; and we held on vigorously to the railing until we reached a ridge and +saw the dead city of Ambér before us, dominated by the white marble palace, +standing on a steep cliff, and reflected in the water of the lake which laps +its base.” +</p> + +<p> +“Up a steep and narrow path we mounted until we reached the courtyard of +the ancient palace of the ruler of Ambér, and there we alighted from our steed, +and set out to explore the ruins. First we came to a small temple, ugly enough, +but interesting, for here a goat is sacrificed every morning to Kali—a +particularly hideous goddess, if the frescoes on the walls and the golden image +in the sanctuary are in any way truthful! Formerly a human sacrifice was +customary, but the unfortunate goat is found to fulfil modern requirements, +since goddesses are more easily pleased or less pampered than of yore.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Palace, which dates from the seventeenth century, is chiefly +remarkable for its magnificent situation, and for its court and hall of +audience of marble and red sandstone.” +</p> + +<p> +“This work was so fine as to excite the jealousy of the Mogul Emperor, so +the Prince of Ambér had it promptly whitewashed—and whitewashed it +remains to this day. Some of the brazen doors are remarkably fine, as also +those of sandal-wood, inlaid with ivory, in the women’s quarters.” +</p> + +<p> +“We climbed to the marble court on the roof, where, canopied only by the +sky and lighted by the moon, nocturnal durbars were held. Now, in the glare of +the noonday sun, we fully appreciated the value of an evening sitting, for it +was impossible to remain grilling there, even though the view of the silent +city below, falling in tier after tier to the lake—the glare only broken +here and there by patches of green garden—was superb. On either side rose +the bare, rocky ridges, fort-crowned and looking formidable even in decay, +while in front the dusty road stretched away into the haze of the dusty plains +below. Of course, we should have visited the great Jain temples and other +things worthy of note; but, alas! a green garden, whose palms overhung the +lake, proved more attractive than even Jain temples, and a charming picnic on +fruits and cool drinks strengthened us sufficiently to enable us to face the +hot road home, buoyed up each mile by the nearer prospect of a tub.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Jaipur is celebrated for its enamelling on gold, so our host kindly sent for an +eminent jeweller to come and show us some trifles. Expectant of a humble native +carrying the usual bundle, we were much impressed when, in due time, a +dignitary drove up in a remarkably well turned out carriage and pair. His +servants were clad in a smart livery, and he himself was resplendent, with +uncut emerald earrings, and the general appearance of a certain Savoy favourite +as the “Rajah of Bong”! +</p> + +<p> +Our spirits sank as he spread himself and his goods out upon the drawing-room +floor, which speedily became a glittering chaos of gold and jewelled cups, +umbrella handles, boxes, scent-bottles, and necklaces. Jane divided her +admiration between a rope of fat pearls and a necklace of uncut emeralds, +either of which might have been hers at the trifling price of some 7000 rupees, +but we finally restricted our acquisitions to very modest proportions, and the +stout jeweller departed, apparently no whit less cheerful than when he came. +</p> + +<p> +The modern brass-work of Jaipur is somewhat attractive, and we bought various +articles—a tall lamp-stand, an elephant bell, and a few ordinary bowls of +excellent shape. +</p> + +<p> +I have remarked before on the extreme tameness of, and the confidence shown by, +wild creatures out here. A titmouse came and perched on the arm of my chair +while sitting reading on the verandah at Gulmarg. +</p> + +<p> +The rats and mice, who own the forest houses in the Machipura, have to be +kicked off the beds at night. But the little grey squirrels in Sir Swinton +Jacob’s garden are—<i>facile princeps</i>—the boldest +wild-fowl we have yet encountered. +</p> + +<p> +Every afternoon about three, when tea was toward, the squirrels gathered on the +gravel path, and prepared to receive bread and butter. +</p> + +<p> +After a few nervous darts and tail whiskings, a bold squirrel would skip up +close, and, after eating a little ground bait, would boldly come up and nibble +out of a motionless hand. In two minutes half-a-dozen pretty little creatures +would be fidgeting round, eating bread and butter daintily, neatly holding the +morsel in their little forepaws and nuzzling into one’s fingers for more. +</p> + +<p> +A handsome magpie, and, of course, a contingent of crows, made up the +fascinating party; while in the background, among the neem trees and the +flaming “gold mohurs,” the minahs and green parrots sustained an +incessant and riotous conversation. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Wednesday, October 25</i>.—Gladly would we have accepted the +Jacobs’ invitation to stay longer at Jaipur. We would have liked nothing +better, but time was flying, and the 5th November—our day of departure +from Bombay—was drawing rapidly near. So yesterday evening we took the +6.30 train for Ajmere, and, reaching there at 10.30, changed into the +narrow-gauge railway for Chitor. We are becoming well accustomed to sleeping in +an Indian train, and Sabz Ali had our beds unrolled and our innumerable hand +luggage stowed away in no time, including four bottles of soda-water, which he +has carefully garnered in the washstand, and which no hints, however broad, +will induce him to relinquish. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap16"></a>CHAPTER XVI<br/> +UDAIPUR</h2> + +<p> +We arrived, very sleepy and gritty, at Chitor at 5.30 A.M., to find an +unprecedented mob of first-class passengers <i>en route</i> for Udaipur, and +only one very minute compartment in which to stow them. +</p> + +<p> +The station-master—a solemn Baboo, full of his own importance, becomingly +clad in a waving white petticoat, with bare legs and elastic-sided boots, +surmounted by a long cutaway frock-coat, topped by a black skull-cap, and +finally decorated by a pen behind his ear—seemed totally unable to cope +with the terrible problem he was set to solve. +</p> + +<p> +I suggested that another carriage should be put on, but he had none, nor any +solution to offer; so we cleared a second-class compartment and divided the +party out, and then, with five people in our tiny compartment, we set out on +the fifty-mile run to Udaipur. +</p> + +<p> +Five people in a carriage in Europe is nowise unusual, but five people in an +Indian one (and that a narrow, very narrow gauge), accompanied by rolls of +bedding, tiffin-baskets, and all the quantity of personal luggage which is +absolutely necessary, not to speak of a large-sized bird-cage (which cannot, +strictly speaking, be classed as a necessary), requires the ingenuity of a +professional packer of herrings or figs to adjust nicely! +</p> + +<p> +By cramming the toilet place with bedding, khudsticks, a five-foot brass +lamp-stand, and the four soda-water bottles, we made shift to stow +portmanteaux, bags, tiffin-baskets, &c., under the seats and ourselves upon +them, and then arranged a sort of centre-piece of Jane’s big tin +bonnet-box, surmounted by Freddy in his cage. The other passengers were very +amiably disposed, and not fat, and they even went so far as to pretend to +admire Freddy—a feat of some difficulty, as he is still very bald and of +an altogether forbidding aspect. This admiration so won upon the heart of Jane, +that in the fulness thereof she served out biscuits and a little tinned butter +all round, while Freddy cheerfully spattered food and water upon all +indiscriminately. +</p> + +<p> +About eighteen miles from Udaipur we passed the ruins of Ontala. Here, in the +stormy time when Jehangir had seized Chitor, there happened a desperate deed. +</p> + +<p> +The Rana of Mewar, expelled from his capital, determined to attack and retake +Ontala. Now, the Rajputs were divided into clans as fiery as any of those whose +fatal pride went far to ruin Bonnie Prince Charlie at Culloden. The Chondawats +and the Saktawats both claimed the right of forming the vanguard, and the Rana, +unable to pronounce in favour of either, subtly decided that the van should be +given to the clan which should first enter Ontala. +</p> + +<p> +The Saktawats then made straight for the one and only gateway to the fortress, +and, reaching it as day broke, almost surprised the place, but the walls were +quickly manned and defended. Foiled for a moment, the leader of the Saktawats +threw himself from his elephant, and, placing himself before the great spikes +with which the gate was protected against the assault of the beast, ordered the +mahout to charge; and so a crushed and mangled corpse was forced into the city +on the brow of the living battering-ram, in whose wake the assailants rushed to +battle. +</p> + +<p> +Alas! his sacrifice was in vain. The Chondawat chief was already in Ontala. +First of the stormers with scaling-ladders, he was shot dead by the defenders +ere reaching the top of the rampart, and his corpse fell back among his +dismayed followers. Then the chief of Deogurh, rolling the body in his scarf, +tied it upon his back, fought his way to the crest of the battlements, and +hurled the gory body of his chieftain into the city, shouting, “The +vanguard to the Chondawat!” +</p> + +<p> +It is further told how, when the attack began, two Mogul chiefs of note were +engaged within upon a game of chess. Confident of the strength of the defence, +they continued their game, unheeding the din of battle. Suddenly the foe broke +in upon them, upon which they calmly asked for leave to finish their +interesting match. The request was granted by the courtly Rajputs, but upon its +termination they were both put to death. +</p> + +<p> +Udaipur lies in a well-cultivated basin, shut in by a ring of arid hills. After +skirting the flanks of some of the outlying spurs, we bustled through a tunnel +and drew up at a bright little station, draped with great blue and pink +convolvulus. And this was Udaipur. +</p> + +<p> +We were picked out of the usual jabbering, jostling, gibbering crowd of natives +by our host, who, looking most enviably cool and clean, took his heated, +dishevelled, and unbarbered guests off to a comfortable carriage, and we were +quickly sped towards tiffin and a bath. +</p> + +<p> +The station is a long way from the town, as the Maharana, a most staunch +conservative of the old school, having the railway more or less forced upon +him, drew the line at three miles from his capital, and fixed the terminus +there. One cannot help being glad that the prosaic steam-engine, crowned with +foul smoke and heralded by ear-piercing whistles, has not been allowed to +trespass in Udaipur, wherein no discordant note is struck by train line or +factory chimney, and where everything and every one is as when the city was +newly built on the final abandonment of Chitor, the ancient capital of Mewar. +</p> + +<p> +Here in the heart of the most conservative of native States, whose ruler, the +Maharana, Sir Fateh Singh, claims descent from that ancient luminary the Sun, +we found novelty and interest in every yard of the three miles that stretch +between the station and the capital. The scrub-covered desert has given place +to a wooded and cultivated valley, ringed by a chain of hills, sterile and +steep. The white ribbon of the road, through whose dust plough stolid buffaloes +and strings of creaking bullock-carts, is bordered by tall cactus and +yellow-flowered mimosa on either side. Among the trees rise countless +half-ruined temples and chatries; on whose whitewashed walls are frequent +frescoes of tigers or elephants rampant, and of wonderful Rajput heroes wearing +the curious bell-shaped skirt, which was their distinctive dress. +</p> + +<p> +The people too, their descendants, who crowd the road to-day, are +remarkable—the men fine-looking, with beards brushed ferociously upwards, +and all but the mere peasants carrying swords; the women, dark-eyed, and +singularly graceful in their red or orange saris, and very full bell-shaped +petticoats. Upright as darts, they walk with slightly swaying gesture, a +slender brown arm upraised to support the big brass chatties on their heads, +revealing an incredible collection of bangles on arms and ankles. These women +are the descendants of those who, in the stormy days of the sixteenth century, +while the Rajput princes still struggled heroically with the all-powerful Mogul +emperors, preferred death to shame, and, led by Kurnavati (mother of Oodi +Singh, the founder of Udaipur), accepted the “Johur,” or death by +fire and suffocation, to the number of 13,000, while their husbands and +brothers threw open the city gates and went forth to fight and fall. +</p> + +<p> +As we drew near our destination the towers of the Maharana’s Palace rose +up above the trees, gleaming snowy in the cloudless blue. The brown crenellated +walls of the city appeared on our left, and, suddenly sweeping round a curve, +we found ourselves by the border of a lovely lake, whose blue-rippled waters +lapped the very walls of the town. In the foreground a glorious note of colour +was struck by a group of “scarlet women” washing themselves and +their clothes by the margin. +</p> + +<p> +Up a steep incline, and we found ourselves before a verandah, blazing overhead +with bougainvillea, and our hostess waiting to receive us beneath its cool +shade. +</p> + +<p> +In the afternoon, refreshed and rested, we went down to the shore, where our +host had arranged for a state-owned boat and four rowers to be in waiting. +Armed with rods and fishing tackle, we proceeded to see Udaipur from the lake +which washes its northern side. First crossing a small landlocked bay bordered +on the left by a long and picturesque crenellated wall, and passing through a +narrow opening, we found ourselves in a second division of the water; on the +left, still the wall, with a delightful-looking summer-house perched at a +salient angle; on the right, small wooded islands, the haunt of innumerable +cormorants, who, with snaky necks outstretched, watched us suspiciously from +their eyrie. +</p> + +<p> +A curious white bridge, very high in the centre, barred the view of the main +lake till, passing through the central arch, we found ourselves in a scene of +perfect enchantment. Before us the level sheet of molten silver lay spread, +reflecting the snowy palaces and summer-houses that stood amid the palms and +greenery of many tiny islands. On the left the city rose from the water in a +succession of temples and wide-terraced buildings, culminating in the lofty +pile of the Palace of the Maharana. Here, on this enchanted lake, we rowed to +and fro until the sun sank swiftly in the west and the red gold glowed on +temple and turret. +</p> + +<p> +Then, with our catch, about 15 lbs. weight of most excellent fish, we rowed +back past the white city to the landing-place, and, in the gathering dark, +climbed the hillock upon which stood our host’s bungalow. +</p> + +<p> +We spent a week at Udaipur—a happy week, whose short days flew by far too +quickly. The weather was splendid; hot in the middle of the day—for the +season is late, and the monsoon has greatly failed in its cooling +duty—but delightful in morning and evening. +</p> + +<p> +Rising one morning at early dawn, before the sun leaped above the eastern +hills, we took boat and rowed to one of the island palaces, where, after +fishing for mahseer, we breakfasted on a marble balcony overlooking the ripples +of the Pichola Lake, which lapped the feet of a group of great marble +elephants. +</p> + +<p> +Not the least interesting expedition was to the south end of the lake one +afternoon to see the wild pigs fed. Traversing the whole length of the Pichola, +past the marble ghâts where the crimson-clad women washed and chattered, while +above them rose the roofs and temple domes of the fairy city culminating in the +walls and pinnacles of the palace—past the fleet of queer green barges +wherein the Maharana disports himself when aquatically inclined, we left the +many islands marble-crowned on our right; and finally landed at a little +jutting ledge of rock, whence a jungle track led us in a few minutes to a +terrace overlooking a rocky and steep slope which fell away from the building +near which we stood. The scene was surprising! Hundreds of swine of all sorts +and sizes, from grim slab-sided, gaunt-headed old boars, whose ancient tusks +showed menacing, to the liveliest and sprightliest of little pigs playing +hide-and-seek among their staid relatives, were collected from the neighbouring +jungle to scramble for the daily dole of grain spread for them by the Maharana. +</p> + +<p> +A cloud of dust rose thick in the air, stirred up by the busy feet and snouts +of the multitude, and grunts and squeals were loud and frequent as a frisky +party of younglings in their play would heedlessly bump up against some +short-tempered old boar, who in his turn would angrily butt a too venturesome +rival in the wind and send him, expostulating noisily, down the hill! +</p> + +<p> +Beyond the crowd of swine on the edge of the clearing, a few peacocks, +attracted by the prospect of a meal, held themselves strictly aloof from the +vulgar herd. +</p> + +<p> +The whole city of Udaipur is a paradise for the artist—not a corner, not +a creature which does not seem to cry aloud to be painted. The only difficulty +in such <i>embarras de richesses</i> of subject and such scantiness of time, is +to decide what not to do. +</p> + +<p> +Hardly has the enthusiastic amateur sat down to delineate the stately pile of +the palace, soaring aloft amid its enveloping greenery, than he is attracted by +a fascinating glimpse of the lake, where, perhaps, a royal elephant comes down +to drink, or a crimson-clad bevy of Rajputni lasses stoop to fill their brazen +chatties with much chatter and laughter. +</p> + +<p> +Bewildered by such wealth of subject, one is but too apt to sit at gaze, and +finally go home with merely a dozen pages of scribbles added to the little +canvas jotting-book! +</p> + +<p> +The Palace of the Maharana is a very splendid pile of buildings, as seen from +some little distance crowning the ridge which rises to the south of the lake, +but it loses much of its beauty when closely viewed. It is, of course, not to +be compared architecturally with the master-works of Agra and Delhi, and the +internal decorations are usually tawdry and uninteresting. The entrance is +fine; the visitor ascends the steep street to the principal gate, a massive +portal, strengthened against the battering of elephants by huge spikes, and +decorated by a pair of these animals in fresco-rampant. Beyond the first gate +rises a second or inner gate. On the right are huge stables where the royal +elephants are kept, and on the left stand a row of curious arches, beneath one +of which the Maharanas of old were wont to be weighed against bullion after a +victory, the equivalent to the royal avoirdupois being distributed as largesse +to his people! +</p> + +<p> +Within the gates, a long and wide terrace stretches along the entire front of +the Palace, on the face of which is emblazoned the Sun of Mewar, the emblem of +the Sesodias. This terrace was evidently the happy home of a great number of +cows, peacocks, geese, and pigeons, which stalked calmly enough, among the +motley crowd of natives, and gave one the impression of a glorified farmyard. +The building itself, like most Indian palaces, is composed of a heterogeneous +agglomeration in all sorts of sizes and styles. Each successive Maharana having +apparently added a bit here and a bit there as his capricious fancy prompted. +</p> + +<p> +Jane visited the armoury to-day with the Resident, who went to choose a shield +to be presented by the Maharana to the Victoria Museum at Calcutta. I chose to +go sketching, and was derided by Jane for missing such a chance of seeing what +is not shown to visitors as a rule. She whisked away in great pomp in the +Residential chariot, preceded by two prancing sowars on horseback, and +subsequently thus related her experiences:— +</p> + + +<p class="p2"> +“We really drove up far too fast to the Palace, I was so much interested +in the delightful streets; and we just whizzed past the innumerable shrines and +queer shops, and frescoed walls, where extraordinary lions and tigers, and +Rajput warriors, riding in wide petticoats on prancing steeds, were depicted in +flaming colours. I wanted, too, to gaze at the native women, in their +accordion-pleated, dancing frocks of crimson or dark blue; but it seemed to be +the correct thing for a ‘Personage’ to drive as fast as possible, +and try to run over a few people just to show them what unconsidered trifles +they were. Well, we were received at the entrance to the Palace by one of the +Prime Ministers. There are two Prime Ministers—one to criticise and +frustrate the schemes of the other; the result being, as the Resident remarked, +that it is not easy to get any business done. Our Prime Minister was dressed in +a coat of royal purple velvet, on his head was wound a big green turban, and +round his neck hung a lovely necklet of pearls and emeralds, with a pendant of +the same, he had also earrings to match. It was truly pitiful to see such +ornaments wasted on a fat old man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Going up a narrow and rather steep staircase, we came to a small hall +full of retainers of his Highness, waiting until it should please him to appear +and breakfast with them, for it is the custom of the Maharana to make that meal +a sort of public function. In the middle of the hall reposed a big bull, +evidently very much at ease and quite at home!” +</p> + +<p> +“A few more steps brought us to the door of the armoury. This is small +and badly arranged, which seems a pity, as there were some lovely things. Chain +armour and inlaid suits lay about the floor in heaps; and we were shown the +saddle used by Akbar during the last siege of Chitor. The most remarkable +things, however, were the Rajput shields, of which there were some beautiful +specimens. They are circular, not large, and made, some of tortoiseshell, some +of polished hippo hide, &c. One was inlaid with great emeralds, a second +had bosses of turquoise, and a really lovely one was inlaid with fine Jaipur +enamel in blue and green. There were swords simply encrusted with +jewels—one with a hilt of carved crystal; another was a +curiously-modelled dog’s head in smooth silver, and I noticed a beauty in +pale jade. Altogether it was a most fascinating collection, different from, but +in its way quite as interesting, as the fine armoury at Madrid.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Thus did Jane triumph over me with her description of what she had seen and +what I had missed; and I had been trying to delineate the Temple of Jagganath, +and had been disastrously defeated, for it is indeed a complicated piece of +drawing, and the children, both large and small, crowded round me to my great +hindrance. Therefore, it was not until I had been soothed with an excellent +lunch, and the contents of a very long tumbler, that I felt strong enough to +take an intelligent interest in the contents of the Maharana’s +curiosity-shop! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Monday, October</i> 30.—The more we see of Udaipur the more we are +charmed with it. The whole place is so absolutely unspoilt by modernism, is so +purely Eastern—and ancient Eastern at that—that we feel as though +we were in a little world far apart from the great one where steam and +electricity shatter the nerves, and drive their victims through life at high +pressure. +</p> + +<p> +Ringed in by a rampart of arid hills, beyond which the scrub-covered desert +stretches for miles, the peaceful city of Udaipur lies secluded in an oasis, +whose centre is a turquoise lake. High in his palace the Maharana rules in +feudal state, and, like Aytoun’s Scottish Cavalier, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“A thousand vassals dwelt around—all of his kindred they,<br/> +And not a man of all that clan has ever ceased to pray<br/> +For the royal race he loves so well.” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +For to his subjects the Maharana is little less than a divinity, for is he not +a direct descendant of the Sun? Likewise is he not the chief of the only royal +house of Rajputana, who disdained to purchase Mogul friendship at the price of +giving a daughter in marriage to the Mohammedan? +</p> + +<p> +There are greater personages among the ruling Princes of India, according to +British ruling—Hyderabad, for instance. And in the matter of precedence +and the number of guns for ceremonial salutation, the Chief of Mewar—like +other poor but proud nobles—is treated rather according to his actual +power than the cloudless blue of his blood. Hence he is extremely unwilling to +put himself in a position where he might fail to obtain the honour which he +considers due to him. He was most averse from attending the Delhi Durbar, but +such pressure was put upon him that he was induced to proceed thither in his +special train running, as far as Chitorgarh, upon his own special railway. He +reached Delhi, and his sponsors rejoiced that they had indeed got him to the +water, although they had not exactly induced him to drink. As a matter of fact, +the Maharana, having gone to Delhi to please the British authorities, promptly +returned to Udaipur to please himself, alleging a terrific headache as reason +for instant departure from the capital, without his having left his very own +specially reserved first-class compartment! +</p> + +<p> +He may not be a willing guest, but he is evidently disposed to be an excellent +host, for great preparations are toward for the reception of the Prince of +Wales, who is expected in the course of a fortnight or so. +</p> + +<p> +The Residency, too, is being swept and garnished, the garden already looking +like a miniature camp, with tents for the suite all among the flower-beds. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tuesday, October</i> 31.—A day or two ago we arose betimes, and before +sunrise embarked in the State gig (which was always, apparently, placed at our +host’s disposal on demand), and set forth to catch fish for our +breakfast, and then proceed to eat the same on one of the island palaces on the +lake. We did not catch many fish—the mahseer were shy that +morning—but fortunately we did not entirely depend on the caprices of the +mahseer for our sustenance, and a remarkably well-fed and contented quartette +we were when we got into the gig while the day was yet young, and rowed home as +quickly as might be in order to escape the heat which at noonday is still +great. +</p> + +<p> +This afternoon we went for a (to us) novel tea picnic. A State elephant +appeared by request, and we climbed upon him with ladders, and he proceeded to +roll leisurely along at the rate of about two and a half miles an hour towards +the foot of a hill, on the top of which stood a small summer palace. +</p> + +<p> +The afternoon was warm, and the rhythmic pace drowsy, but our steed was +determined to amuse us and benefit himself. So he blew great blasts of spray at +his own forelegs and chest to cool himself, and now and then made shocking bad +shots at so large a target, and, getting a trifle too much elevation, nearly +swept us from our lofty perch. +</p> + +<p> +Fortunately his stock of spray gave out ere long, or he found that the +increasing gradient of the hill took all his breath, for we were left at +leisure to admire the widening view until we reached the top. +</p> + +<p> +Here we had tea in one of the cool halls, and then sat watching the sun sink +towards the hills that stretch to Mount Aboo. +</p> + +<p> +To the south-east lay Udaipur, milk-white along the margin of its +“marléd” waters. +</p> + +<p> +On our way home we met with an adventure. While prattling to my hostess, I +observed that our toes were rising unduly, the saddle or howdah being seated +somewhat after the fashion of an outside car. Glancing over my shoulder I +descried Jane and her partner far below their proper level. The howdah was +coming round, and our steed was eleven feet high! Agonised yells to the +gentleman who guided the deliberate steps of the pachyderm from a coign of +vantage on the back of his neck, awoke him to an appreciation of the situation. +The elephant was “hove to” with all possible despatch, and we +crawled off his back with the greatest celerity. We then sat down by the +roadside and superintended the righting of the saddle and the tautening of the +girths by several natives, who “took in the slack” with an energy +that must have made the poor elephant very “uncomfy” about the +waist! I secretly hoped it was hurting him horribly, as I had not forgiven him +for his practical jokes on the way up. +</p> + +<p> +We had no more thrills. Resuming our motor ’bus, in due course, we were +landed opposite the top of our host’s verandah, whereupon the beast shut +himself up like a three-foot rule, and we got to ground. +</p> + +<p> +The inexorable flight of time brought us all too soon to the limit of our stay +at Udaipur. Early on Wednesday the 1st November, therefore, we bade adieu to +the capital of the State of Mewar, and, accompanied by our kind host and +hostess, set out to spend a day in exploring the ruined city of Chitor before +taking train for Bombay. +</p> + +<p> +As we drove to the station, we passed the group of ancient +“chatries” or tombs of dead and gone Ranas of Mewar, and halted for +a short inspection, as, the train by which we were to travel to Chitorgarh +being a “special,” we were not bound to a precise moment for our +appearance on the platform. +</p> + +<p> +Jane, who is perfectly Athenian in her passion for novelty, decided to travel +on the engine, and proceeded to do so; until, at the first halting-place, a +grimy and somewhat dishevelled female climbed into our carriage, and the next +half-hour was fully occupied in scooping smuts out of her eyes with teaspoons. +</p> + +<p> +It had been arranged that an elephant should await our arrival at Chitorgarh to +take us up to the ancient city, but a careful search into every nook and cranny +failed to reveal the missing animal. +</p> + +<p> +So my host and I set out on foot to cross a mile or so of plain which spread in +deceptive smoothness between us and the ascent to the city. What seemed a +serene and level track became quickly entangled in a maze of rough little knobs +and nullahs, and we took a vast amount of exercise before arriving at the old +bridge which spans the Gamberi River. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, towering over the scrubby bushes and surrounded by a dusty halo, the +dilatory pachyderm bore down upon us, and, after the mahout had been +interviewed in unmeasured terms by my host, went rolling slowly to the station +to pick up the ladies. +</p> + +<p> +The ancient city of Chitor lies crumbling and desolate on the back of a long, +level-topped hill, which rises solitary to the height of some five hundred feet +above the far-stretching plain. Kipling likens it to a great ship, up the sides +of which the steep road slopes like a gangway. At the foot lies the modern +village, squalid but picturesque. +</p> + +<p> +As we toil, perspiring, up the long ramp which for a weary mile slopes sidelong +up the scarped flank of the mountain, and pass through the seven gates which +guarded the way, and every one of which was the scene of many a grim and bloody +struggle, I will try to sketch the outline of the history of the famous fort, +for many centuries the headquarters of the royal race of Mewar. +</p> + +<p> +The Gehlotes, or (as they were afterwards styled) the Sesodias, claim descent +from the Sun through Manu, Icshwaca, and Rama Chandra, as indeed do the other +Rajput potentates of Jaipur, Marwar, and Bikanir, the Rana of Mewar, however, +taking precedence owing to his descent from Lava, the eldest son of Rama. +</p> + +<p> +The ancient dynasty of Mewar has fallen from its high estate, but the history +of its rise is lost in the mists of grey antiquity. +</p> + +<p> +“We can trace the losses of Mewar, but with difficulty her acquisitions…. +She was an old-established dynasty when all the other States were in +embryo.” Long before Richard of the Lion-heart fared to Palestine to +wrest the Holy City from the infidel, “a hundred kings, its +(Mewar’s) allies and dependants, had their thrones raised in +Chitor,” to defend it against the sword of the Mohammedan; while overhead +floated the banner displaying the golden sun of Mewar on a crimson field. +</p> + +<p> +Some centuries later the Crusaders brought to Europe from the plains of +Palestine the novel device of armorial bearings. +</p> + +<p> +Chitor itself appears to have been in possession of the Mori princes until, in +A.D. 728, it was taken by Bappa, who, though of royal race, was brought up in +obscurity by the Bhils as an attendant on the sacred kine. This shepherd +prince, ancestor of the present Rana of Mewar, became a national hero, and many +legends are still current concerning him and his romantic deeds. The story of +his “amazing marriage,” by which he succeeded in wedding six +hundred damsels all at once, is one of the most curious. Bappa, while still a +youth, was appealed to, one holiday, by the frolicsome maidens of a +neighbouring village, who, led by the daughter of the Solankini chief of Nagda, +in accordance with the custom upon this particular saint’s day, had come +out to indulge in swinging, but who had forgotten to supply themselves with a +swinging-rope. Bappa agreed to get them one if they would play his game first. +This the young ladies readily agreed to do; whereupon, all joining hands, he +danced with them a certain mystic number of times round a sacred tree. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Regardless of their doom, the little victims played,” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +and finally dispersed to their homes, entirely unconscious that they were all +as securely married to Bappa as though they had visited Gretna Green with him. +</p> + +<p> +Some time afterwards, upon the engagement of the Solankini maiden to an +eligible young man, the soothsayer, to whom application had been made with +regard to fixing a favourable and auspicious wedding-day, discovered from +certain lines in her hand that the girl was already married! Thus the whole +story came out, and no less than six hundred brides assumed the title of Mrs. +Bappa. +</p> + +<p> +He seems to have had a passion for matrimony, for when an old man he left his +children and his country, and carried his arms west to Khorassan, where he +wedded new wives and had a numerous offspring. He died at the age of a hundred! +</p> + +<p> +From the days of the very much married Bappa, until the time of Samarsi, who +was Prince of Chitor in the thirteenth century, the city continued to flourish +and increase in power and importance. Samarsi, having married Pirtha, sister of +Prithi Raj, the lord of Delhi, joined his brother-in-law against Shabudin. For +three days the battle raged, until the scale fell finally in favour of +Shabudin, and the combined forces of Delhi and Chitor were almost annihilated. +“Pirtha, on hearing of the loss of the battle, her husband slain, her +brother captive, and all the heroes of Delhi and Cheetore ‘asleep on the +banks of the Caggar in a wave of the steel,’ joined her lord through the +flames.” +</p> + +<p> +From that time forward the history of Chitor is but a tale of sack and +slaughter, relieved in its murkiest days by flashes of brilliant heroism and +self-sacrificing devotion while the chivalrous Rajputs struggled vainly against +the successive waves of the Mohammedan invasions, which in a fierce flood for +centuries swept over India, and deluged it with blood. +</p> + +<p> +In the year 1275 Lakumsi became Rana of Chitor. His uncle Bheemsi had married +Padmani, a fair daughter of Ceylon, and her beauty was such that the fame of it +came to the ears of Alla-o-din, the Pathan Emperor. +</p> + +<p> +He promptly attacked the fortress, but without success for a long period, until +he agreed to a compromise, declaring that if he could merely see the Lady +Padmani in a mirror he would be contented and raise the siege. +</p> + +<p> +His request was granted, and, trusting to the honour of a Rajput, he entered +the city unattended, and was rewarded by a sight of this Eastern Helen +reflected in a mirror. Desirous of showing equal faith in a noble enemy, +Bheemsi accompanied Alla back to his lines, but there he was captured and held +to ransom, Padmani being the price. +</p> + +<p> +Word was now sent to the Emperor that Padmani would be delivered to him, and +seven hundred covered litters were prepared to convey her and her ladies to +Delhi, but each litter was borne by six armed bearers, and contained no +“silver-bodied damsels with musky tresses,” but only steel-clad +warriors, who, upon arrival in the Moslem camp, sprang from their concealment +as surprisingly as Pallas from the head of Zeus. +</p> + +<p> +Alla-o-din was, however, not to be caught napping, and, being prepared for all +contingencies, a fierce combat took place, and the warriors of Chitor were hard +put to it to stand their ground until Bheemsi had escaped to the stronghold on +a fleet horse. Then the devoted remnant retreated, pursued to the very gates by +their foes. The flower of Chitor had perished, but they had achieved their +object. This was called the “half sack” of Chitor.[1] +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[1] These notes on the history of Chitor are taken, it need hardly be said, +from Tod’s <i>Rajast’han</i>, he being <i>the</i> authority on +Rajputana. An account of the above incident is given somewhat differently by +Maurice in his <i>Modern History of Hindostan</i> (1803), who also relates that +Akbar used the same trick to enter Rhotas in Behar, after being long baffled by +the apparent impregnability of that fortress. +</p> + +<p> +Fifteen years later, Alla-o-din once more attacked Chitor, and this time the +assaults were so deadly that the garrison was decimated and utter annihilation +stared the survivors in the face. Then to the Rana appeared the guardian +goddess of the city, who warned him that “if twelve who wear the diadem +bleed not for Chitor, the land will pass from the line.” Now the prince +had twelve sons, and, in obedience to the goddess and in hope of eventually +saving their dynasty, eleven of them cheerfully headed sorties on eleven +following days, and were slain, until only Ajeysi, the youngest, was left +alive. Then the Kana prepared for the end. He sent the boy Ajeysi with a small +band by a secret way, and he escaped to Kailwarra, so that the royal race of +Chitor should not become extinct. Then the women of the city, with the noble +Padmani at their head, accepted the Johur; “the funeral pyre being +lighted within the great subterranean retreat,” they steadfastly marched +into the living grave rather than yield themselves to the will of the +conqueror. All being now ready for the last act of the hideous drama, the Rana +caused the gates to be opened, and with his valiant remnant of an army fell +upon the foe only to perish to a man, and then, and not till then, did the +victorious Alla set foot of a conqueror within Chitor, where now no living +thing remained to stay him from razing her deserted temples to the ground. The +palace of Padmani alone was spared in this, the first “saka” of +Chitor.[2] +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[2] The Jain Tower of Fame was also left standing, it dates from about A.D. +900. +</p> + +<p> +The wrecked stronghold remained an appanage of the Mogul until Hamir, who, +though not the direct heir of Ajeysi, had gained the chieftainship through his +valour, and who, having married a ward of the Hindu governor of Chitor, by her +help regained possession of the fortress. +</p> + +<p> +Defeating the Emperor Mahmoud, Hamir entered Chitor in triumph, and once again +the standard of the Sun floated over its blood-stained rocks. The Emperor +Mahmoud himself was led captive into Chitor, and kept prisoner there for three +months until he regained his liberty by surrendering Ajmere, Rinthumbore, +Nagore, and Sooe Sopoor, with fifty lacs of rupees and a hundred elephants. By +this victory Hamir became the sole Hindu prince of power in India; and the +ancestors of the present lords of Marwar and Jaipur brought their levies and +paid homage, together with the chiefs of Boondi, Abu, and Gwalior. +</p> + +<p> +Then ensued for Chitor a period of splendid prosperity, during which rose many +noble buildings, amongst the ruins of which the great Tower of Victory still +soars supreme. This splendid monument[3] was raised to commemorate the victory +gained by Koombho over Mahmoud, King of Malwa, and the Prince of Guzzerat, who +in A.D. 1440 had formed a league against Chitor. The Rana met them at the head +of 100,000 troops and 1400 elephants, and overthrew them, and the commemorative +tower was begun in 1451 and finished in ten years. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[3] It is also attributed to Lakha Rana, A.D. 1373. +</p> + +<p> +The State of Mewar reached the zenith of her glory in 1509, when 80,000 horse, +seven rajas of the highest rank, nine raos, and 104 chiefs bearing titles of +rawul or sawut, with 500 elephants, followed Rana Sanga of Chitor into the +field. +</p> + +<p> +The Mogul Baber, who captured Delhi in 1527, was yet unwilling to face the +ordeal of battle with the warlike Rajputs, but in the following year Sanga +marched against him at the head of the princes of Rajast’han. A terrible +battle ensued, which long inclined in favour of the Rajputs, until, through the +treachery of a Tuar chief, they were defeated, and the star of Mewar began to +decline, although so severe had been the struggle that Baber dared not follow +up his victory. +</p> + +<p> +In 1533 Chitor suffered her second “saka” at the hands of Buhadoor +or Bajazet, Sultan of Guzzerat, who, after a grim struggle, obtained a footing +at the “Beeka” rock, and, springing a mine there, blew up 45 cubits +of rampart and killed the Prince of the Haras, with five hundred of his kin. +Then the Queen-Mother, Jowahir Bae, clad in armour, headed a sally, and was +slain before the eyes of all. +</p> + +<p> +The entrance to the city being forced, the heir of the Sesodias, the infant +Oodi Singh, son of Sanga, was placed in safety, while Bagh-ji, Prince of Deola, +assuming royalty, prepared to die, for Chitor could only be retained by the +Rajput princes while guarded by royalty. +</p> + +<p> +The horrible Johur was decreed, and 13,000 women, headed by Kurnavati, the +mother of Oodi Singh,[4] marched to death and honour through the “Gau +Mukh,” or entrance to the subterranean tomb; while the city gates were +thrown open, and the defenders sallied forth. “Every clan lost its +chief,” and 32,000 Rajputs were slain during the siege and storm. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[4] And sister of the Rahtore queen, Jowahir Bae. +</p> + +<p> +Now Kurnavati had bound Hamayoun, the son of Baber, to her cause by a curious +ceremony: she having sent him the Rakhi (bracelet), and he having bestowed on +her the Katchli (corselet), he was bound, in consequence of this bond, to +assist the lady in any time of need. Too late to save Chitor, he retook it, and +restored Bikramajit to the throne; but the guardian goddess had turned her face +from the doomed city, and its final fall was at hand. The Emperor Akbar, having +laid almost all India at his feet, determined to bring the proud princes of +Rajputana into subjection. He attacked Chitor, but was foiled by the masculine +courage of the Rana’s concubine queen. +</p> + +<p> +Again, in 1568, the Emperor Akbar attacked, and this time he found the fated +city in evil case, for Oodi Singh,[5] the Rana, for whom in infancy his nurse +had sacrificed her own child, was a degenerate son of his race. He left Chitor +to be defended by his lieutenants Jeimul and Putta. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[5] The infant Oodi Singh being threatened with death by conspirators, his +Rajputni nurse hid him in a fruit-basket, and, covering it with leaves, had it +conveyed out of the fort, substituting her own child just as Bimbir, the +usurper, entered the room and asked for the prince. Her pallid lips refused to +utter sound, but she pointed to the cradle and saw the swift steel plunged into +the heart of her child. +</p> + +<p> +In the first “saka” by Alla, twelve crowned heads defended the +“crimson banner” to the death. In the second, when conquest, at the +hand of Bahadur, came from the south, the chieftain of Deola, a noble scion of +Mewar, claimed the crown of glory and of martyrdom. But on this, the third and +greatest struggle, no royal victim appeared to appease the Cybele of Chitor and +win her to retain its battlements as her coronet. +</p> + +<p> +When Jeimul fell at the Gate of the Sun, the command devolved upon Putta of +Kailwa, a lad of sixteen. His mother commanded him to don “the saffron +robe,” then, with him and his young bride, she fell full armed upon the +foe, and the heroic trio died before the eyes of the war-worn garrison. +</p> + +<p> +Once more was the Johur commanded, while 8000 Rajputs ate the last +“beera” together, and put on their saffron robes. The gates were +thrown open, “and few survived to stain the yellow mantle by inglorious +surrender.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus in the blood-red cloud of battle sank for ever the Sun of Chitor; for from +this, the third and last “saka,” the ruined city never rose. Her +doom has been as the doom of Babylon, of which Isaiah declared: “It shall +never be inhabited, neither shall it be dwelt in from generation to generation +… but wild beasts of the desert shall lie there; and their houses shall be full +of doleful creatures; and owls shall dwell there…. And the wild beasts … shall +cry in their desolate houses, and … in their pleasant palaces:… Her days shall +not be prolonged.” +</p> + +<p> +The top of the long ascent being reached, the last gate, the Hathi Pol, is +passed, and the wayfarer finds himself in the midst of the great dead city, +which lies in ruins for three miles along the bastioned brow of the mountain. +</p> + +<p> +Just beyond the first group of stately ruins, we came on the building which was +probably the palace built by Lakha Rana in 1373. Here we sat and rested until +the elephant, bearing the ladies and the lunch, stalked sedately round the +jutting angle of a decayed fort, and then we wended our way along a road lined +with many a half-fallen temple, until we reached the ancient palace where, six +hundred years ago, dwelt the ill-starred Padmani, whose loveliness brought such +woe upon Chitor. Here, in a cool chamber overlooking the tank, upon the brink +of which the palace stands, we lunched; afterwards threading our way among the +fallen fragments of many a stately shrine and palace towards the high point on +which the great Jain Tower of Fame rears its deeply-sculptured shaft into the +sky. +</p> + +<p> +For a thousand years the innumerable stone gods which encircle the tower in +endless profusion have watched with sightless eyes over the city. Grey already +with age were they when they saw, raised in pristine beauty, the shattered +domes and broken columns which now lie prone in the brushwood far beneath their +feet. What ghastly scenes those stony faces have surveyed, when, swept by the +scathing steel, the city has run red with blood, and her defenders have fallen +to the last man. One crowning horror, though, they have been always spared, for +no maid or matron of Chitor ever deigned to bow her neck beneath the yoke of +the Mogul, but rather dared to face a fiery death in the bowels of the great +cavern beneath the city than yield her honour to the conqueror. +</p> + +<p> +The Tower of Fame is being repaired by the present Rana, under the +superintendence of our host and a party of native workmen. Masons and most +skilful carvers in stone were busily engaged in the restoration of parts that +had fallen into dangerous decay—an extremely flimsy-looking scaffolding, +made apparently of light bamboos, tied together in wisps, and forming a +fragile-looking ramp, wound spirally up the outside of the tower. My host +seemed to consider it a perfectly safe means of ascent, and as the workmen did +not appear to slip off in any appreciable numbers I felt constrained to go up. +I should like to have done it on all fours! The climb was well worth +undertaking, as it enabled one to inspect the astonishing and finely-carved +figures which encrust the whole exterior of the column. +</p> + +<p> +From the Tower of Fame we made our way to the other great landmark of +Chitor—the Tower of Victory. +</p> + +<p> +Passing and examining <i>en route</i> many elaborately-carved temples, whose +domes rose amid the strangling masses of desert tree and shrub, we came to the +base of the red tower, whose shaft, four-square and in perfect preservation, +has, with its more venerable brother of Fame, watched for so many centuries +over the fallen fortress of Chitor. +</p> + +<p> +Not far away, the rocky wall on which the city stands is shattered into a +gloomy chasm, half-hidden in rank vegetation, which, clinging with knotted root +to ledge and crevice, hangs darkly over a stagnant pool. Here was the awful +portal, “the Gau Mukh,” or “cow’s mouth,” by +which, when all was lost to Chitor save honour, her women entered the +subterranean cavern while the fuel was heaped high, and an honourable death by +suffocation awaited them. +</p> + +<p> +The burning Indian day was over, and the sun blazed red in the west, as we +mounted our elephant and paced along the road towards the Hathi Pol. Darker +grew the ghostly domes and shattered battlements against a golden sky, and the +swift southern night fell, dark yet luminous, as we turned down the hill and +left the dead city, splendid in its loneliness and isolation, asleep within its +crumbling walls. +</p> + +<p> +Our dinner-table was set out on the platform of the station at Chitorgarh, and +our bedrooms were close by, our host and hostess sleeping in the +“special” by which they were to return to Udaipur in the morning, +while we slept in a siding, ready to be coupled up to the early train from +Bombay. +</p> + +<p> +Late into the warm and balmy night we paced the platform; for there seemed to +be always something still to say, and we found it hard to part from our +charming friends; realising, too, that this was the end of our holiday, and +that before us lay merely the toil and bustle of a return to commonplace, +everyday life. At last, though, the final fag-end of a cheroot was thrown away, +the last hand-grips given, and the parting came. +</p> + +<p> +There is little more to say. +</p> + +<p> +All Thursday we rushed through the wide landscape; saw the parched plains +stretch far into the dusty horizon; saw the lean men and leaner cattle, to whom +the grim spectre of famine is already foreshadowed; flew past populous villages +and creaking water-wheels, noting every phase of a scene now familiar, yet +always delightful. +</p> + +<p> +Late in the evening we changed at Baroda, and dawn next morning saw us speeding +across the swamps and inlets, which gave place ere long to the palm groves and +clustering houses which marked the farther limits of the suburbs of Bombay. +</p> + +<p> +We found the heat—damp and oppressive—very trying after the drier +air of Rajputana, and the Taj Mahal Hotel below our expectations in all +respects save price. It is undoubtedly better than most Indian hotels, but yet +it is not good! +</p> + +<p> +Bombay is chiefly connected in our minds with the inevitable fuss and worry of +packing and departure. +</p> + +<p> +As we left the Taj Mahal Hotel, in a conveyance piled high with miscellaneous +baggage, we saw the last of our faithful and indispensable Sabz Ali, as he +hurriedly quitted the hostelry in our wake, fearful lest undue delay should +jeopardise the possession of the spoils he was carrying off, wrapped in bulging +bundles of goodly size. +</p> + +<p> +Jane and I were sorrier, I think, to part with him than he with us. After all, +we were but troublesome charges, for whose well-being he had to answer to +“General ’Oon Sahib,”—charges who had not been quite so +lavish with their incalculable riches as they should have been, and who doled +out rupees, and even annas, with a sorely grudging hand; still I think Sabz +Ali, as he made his way to the station, with many rupees lining his inmost +garments, and a flaming “chit” carefully stowed away, felt a +certain regret at parting from the “sahibs,” who had really shown a +very fine appreciation of his merit, and were sending him back with much honour +to his own country. +</p> + +<p> +Late in the afternoon, as the spires and roofs of the city stood dark against +the sky, and the many steamers and native dhows showed black upon a flood of +liquid gold, the <i>Persia</i> got under way, and we slowly left the anchorage, +steaming out into the fading light. +</p> + +<p> +We stood long, leaning over the bulwarks and watching the lights of Bombay, at +first so distinct, melt gradually into a line of tiny stars as the gulf widened +that separated us from the land where we had spent so many happy days. +</p> + +<p> +I wonder if we shall ever revisit it? I trust so … and yet—— +</p> + +<p> +“As a rule it is better to revisit only in imagination the places which +have greatly charmed us … for it was not merely the sights that one beheld +which were the cause of joy and peace. However lovely the spot, however +gracious the sky, these things external would not have availed but for +contributory movements of mind and heart and blood—the essentials of the +man as then he was.”[6] +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[6] “Henry Ryecroft” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>APPENDIX I</h2> + +<p class="center"> +BIG GAME LICENSE No. I,<br/> +Price Rs. 60 (sixty only). +</p> + +<p> +This license will remain in force from the 15th of March 190 to the 15th +November 190, and is subject to the Kashmir Stata Game Laws; it permits the +Licensee to shoot the undermentioned game in the Districts and Nullahs open to +sportsmen, and, subject to Rules 8 and 9 of these Laws, small game between the +above dates. +</p> + +<pre> +———————————+———————-+———————+————-+————- + | No. permitted | No. actually | Size of |District. + Name of Animal. | to be | shot. | heads. | + | shot. | | | +———————————+———————-+———————+————-+————- | | +Markhor of any variety| 2 | | | +Ibex | 4 | | | +Ovis Hodgsoni (Ammon) | 1 | | | +Ovis Vignei (Sharpu) | 4 | | | +Ovis Nahura (Burhal) | 6 | | | +Thibetan Antelope | 6 | | | + Do. Gazelle | 1 | | | +Kashmir Stag | 2 | | | +Serow | 1 | | | +Brown Bears | 2 | | | +Tehr | 6 | | | +Goral | 6 | | | +Pigs, Black Bears and | No limit. | | | + Leopards | | | | +———————————+———————-+———————+————-+————- +</pre> + +<p> +_Name of Licensee____________________________________________ +_Address_____________________________________________________ _Signature of +Licensee on returning License__________________ +</p> + +<p> +N.B.—This portion of the License to be returned to the Secretary,<br/> +Game Preservation Department. +</p> + +<pre> +————————————————————————————————————- + NAME OF SHIKARIES, &c., EMPLOYED +———+———-+————+———-+————————————————————- + |Name of| |Nature | <i>Place of Residence</i>. | +Serial|Shikari|Father’s| of +————-+————+—————+ REMARKS. + No. | or | Name. |employ-| Village | Tehail | District | + |Coolie.| | ment. | | | | +———+———-+————+———-+————-+————+—————+—————- + | | | | | | | + | | | | | | | +———+———-+————+———-+————-+————+—————+—————- +</pre> + +<p> +This License does not permit the Licensee to shoot in any of the closed tracts +or preserves mentioned in Rules 2 and 10, Kashmir State Game Laws, nor in the +Gilgit district, nor in the Astor or Kaj-nag districts, without the special +permit laid down under Rule 2. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Dated</i> ____ (Sd.) AMAR SINGH, GENERAL, RAJA, <i>The</i> ______ +<i>Vice-President of Council, Jammu and Kashmir State</i>. +</p> + +<p> +I certify that a copy of Kashmir State Game Laws, 190, has been issued +herewith, +</p> + +<p> +<i>Signature of Official granting License</i> ___________________ +</p> + +<p> +NOTE—This License will be shown on demand and is not transferable. A fee +of Re. 1 will be charged for a duplicate copy. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>APPENDIX II</h2> + +<p> +From the earliest times the Kashmiris have been objects of contempt and +derision, whilst the women have been—perhaps unduly—lauded for +their looks and general excellence. +</p> + +<p> +The Kashmiris themselves are of opinion that “once upon a time” +they were an honourable and valiant folk, brought gradually to their present +condition by foreign oppression. +</p> + +<p> +To a certain extent this is probably true, but, according to the +<i>Rajatarangini Kulan</i>, they were noted for dishonesty and cunning long +before the evil days of conquest and adversity. Bernier speaks well of the men, +calling them witty and industrious. Doubtless the Kashmiri character, +originally none too good, was ruined during the long years of cruelty and +injustice to which he was subjected by the Tartars, Afghans, and Sikhs, who, +from the day when Akbar put him into women’s clothes, treated him as +something lower than a brute. +</p> + +<p> +Forster, writing in 1783, abuses the Kashmiri, whom he stigmatises as +“endowed with unwearied patience in the pursuit of gain.” He speaks +of the vile treatment to which he was subjected by his then rulers the Pathans, +observing that Afghans usually addressed Kashmiris by striking them with a +hatchet, but, he concludes, “I even judged them worthy of their adverse +fortune.” +</p> + +<p> +Elphinstone (1839) is of opinion that “the men are excessively addicted +to pleasure, and are notorious all over the East for falsehood and +cunning;” and again, “The Cashmerians are of no account as +soldiers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Many fowls in a yard defile it, and many Kashmiri in a country ruin +it,” says the proverb. Lawrence goes very fully into the Kashmiri +character, and dwells upon its few good points, giving him credit for great +artistic feeling, quick wit, ready repartee, and freedom from crime against the +person. He considers the last merit, though, to be due to cowardice and the +state of espionage which exists in every village! +</p> + +<p> +I was told (but perhaps by a prejudiced person) of a Kashmiri who, during the +great flood of 1903, he being safely on the shore, saw his brother being swept +down the boiling river, clinging to his rapidly disintegrating roof. The +following painful conversation ensued:— +</p> + +<p> +“Whither sailest thou, oh brother, perched upon the birch bark of thine +ancestral roof?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! brother dear. Save me quick! I drown!” +</p> + +<p> +“Truly that can I; but say, what recompense wilt thou give me?” +</p> + +<p> +“All I have in the world, brother—two lovely rupees.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tut, tut, little one; thou takest me for a fool. Two rupees, forsooth, +for five perchance I will deign to save thy worthless life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Three, then, three, carissimo—’tis all I have—and make +haste, for I feel my timbers parting, and I know not how to swim.” +</p> + +<p> +“Farewell, oh, dearest brother! I could not possibly think of taking so +much trouble for three rupees, especially as, now I come to think of it, I can +borrow a singhara pole, and, in due time, will prod for thy corpse in the +Wular! Mind thou wrappest the lucre snugly in thy cummerbund, that it be not +lost—farewell, little brother!” +</p> + +<p> +While the gentlemen of the Happy Valley have been lashed by the tongue and pen +of every traveller, the ladies, on the contrary, have been rather overrated. +</p> + +<p> +In all communities where the men are invertebrate the women become the real +heads of the family, doing not only most of the actual work, but also taking +the dominant position in affairs generally. This I have observed strikingly in +the case of the three “slackest” male races I know—the Fantis +of the Gold Coast, the Kashmiri, and the crofters of the West Highlands. +</p> + +<p> +Opinion is divided on the question of female loveliness in Kashmir. +</p> + +<p> +Marco Polo (who probably only got his ideas of “Kesmur” from +hearsay) echoed the prevalent opinion by saying, “The women although dark +are very comely” (ch. xxvii.). Bernier is enthusiastic: “Les femmes +surtout y sont très-belles,” and hints at their popularity among the +Moguls. +</p> + +<p> +Moorcroft, Vigne, and others swelled the laudatory chorus until Forster, +“having been prepossessed with an opinion of their charms, suffered a +sensible disappointment,” and even was so rude as to criticise the +ladies’ legs, which he considered thick! +</p> + +<p> +Lawrence saw “thousands of women in the villages, and could not remember, +save one or two exceptions, ever seeing a really beautiful face;” but the +heaviest blow was dealt them by Jacquemont, who, as a gay Frenchman, should +have been an excellent judge: “Je n’avais jamais vu auparavant +d’aussi affreuses sorcières!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>APPENDIX III</h2> + +<p> +I had hoped to have given, through the kindness of Colonel Ward, a full list of +the birds of Kashmir. Up to the time of going to press, however, the complete +list has not been made out. A very large proportion, however, has been +published in the <i>Journal of the Bombay Nat. Hist. Society</i>. I would refer +those desirous of a knowledge of the birds of Kashmir to the above Journal for +23rd April and 20th Sept. 1906, and 15th Feb. 1907. Also to Hume and +Henderson’s <i>Lahore to Yarkand</i>, and to Le Mesurier’s <i>Game, +Shore, and Water Birds of India</i>, to which I am indebted for the +following:— +</p> + +<p> +“In Kashmir, out of 116 genera of land birds, 34 have a wide range, 32 +are characteristic of the Palar Arctic, 29 of the Indian, and 21 of the +Himalo-Chinese sub-region. Only one species is peculiar to Kashmir, a very +normal bullfinch (pyrula).” +</p> + +<p> +The flora, which is most interesting, has yet (as far as I know) to be treated +independently of the neighbouring regions. Royle is scientific but antiquated, +and I know of no better list than that given by Lawrence in his <i>Valley of +Kashmir</i>. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>APPENDIX IV</h2> + +<p> +It may interest any one intending a trip to Kashmir to see a note of reasonable +expenses as incurred by two people during a nine-month absence from England. +Therefore I append a précis of ours. +</p> + +<p> +It is to be remembered that a saving might be effected in many particulars by +any one knowing something of the country. We had to buy our experience. Fully +£10 or £12 could be saved in wages, as at first we had a fighting tail like +“Ta Phairson” of “four-and-twenty men and five-and-thirty +pipers”—and pipers have to be paid! We also hired tents when we did +not really require them. Against these outgoings, however, it should be borne +in mind that, thanks to the kindness of friends, we paid a merely nominal rent +for a “State” hut at Gulmarg. At Abbotabad, Jaipur, and Udaipur, +also, we had no hotel bills to meet. +</p> + +<h3>PRÉCIS OF EXPENSES—TWO PERSONS</h3> + +<p class="center"> +LONDON TO KARACHI (25 Days) +</p> + +<pre> + £ s. d. £ s. d. +Half-Return fares, 1st class, London to Trieste, + and thence by Austrian Lloyd (unaccelerated) 60 0 0 +Hotels, sleeping-car, gratuities, wine bills, &c. 16 15 0 +Baggage expenses 8 15 7 + ————— 85 10 7 +</pre> + +<p class="center"> +BOMBAY TO LONDON (25 Days) +</p> + +<pre> +Share of fares 60 0 0 +Hotel expenses and sundries, as before 10 6 8 +Baggage expenses, dock dues, &c. 17 11 4 + ————— 87 18 0 +</pre> + +<p class="center"> +KARACHI TO SRINAGAR (16 Days) +</p> + +<pre> +Rail and baggage expenses to Pindi 12 6 8 +Landau and two ekkas to Srinagar, inclusive of + gratuities, tolls, &c. 10 10 8 +Hotels, Dàk bungalows, &c. 13 18 9 +Duty on firearms (repayable on leaving) 1 16 8 +Resais, waterproof for luggage, kettles, &c. 1 19 3 +Servant’s fare to Karachi, wages, &c. 2 12 8 + ————— 43 4 8 + ——————- + <i>Carry forward</i> 216 13 3 +</pre> + +<p class="center"> +EXPENSES IN KASHMIR (6 Months) +</p> + +<pre> + £ s. d. £ s. d. + <i>Brought forward</i> 216 13 3 + +Food, wine, washing, cigars, &c. 72 7 3 +Wages, inclusive of various clothes 42 9 9 +Amusements, golf and tennis subscriptions, &c. 11 7 2 +Hire of boats, tents and equipment 17 6 5 +Transport coolies and ponies 33 14 11 +Hire of hut at Gulmarg 5 6 8 +Sundry furniture, cooking gear, yakdans, &c. 9 0 8 + —————- 191 12 10 +</pre> + +<p class="center"> +BARAMULA TO BOMBAY (1 Month) +</p> + +<pre> +Landau and four ekkas, with gratuities and tolls. 13 14 0 +Dâk bungalows, hotels, &c. 18 5 8 +Wages, inclusive of gratuities 6 14 0 +Rail, Pindi to Bombay (<i>viâ</i> Udaipur) 16 17 0 +Baggage 5 2 8 +Hire of carriages, &c. 1 4 11 + ————— 61 18 3 +Loss by exchange on cheques. 5 19 7 + —————— + Total 476 3 11 + ============ +</pre> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>INDEX AND NOTES</h2> + +<p> +ABBOTABAD, A frontier station garrisoned by a mobile force of Gurkhas and Royal +Artillery, whence any descent from the Black Mountain or Chilas country can be +checked. Named after Lieutenant Abbot, who reduced the neighbourhood to order +in 1845-48. +</p> + +<p> +Aden, Occupying a warm corner just outside the straits of Babol-Mandeb; was the +first addition made to the British dominions in the reign of Queen Victoria, +having been taken from the Arabs in 1839. +</p> + +<p> +Agates, +</p> + +<p> +Agra, Rose to importance under the Moguls, becoming their seat of government +after Akbar quitted the city he had built, Fatehpur-Sighri, until Aurungzeb +removed the seat of government to Delhi. +</p> + +<p> +Akbar, The third, and in many ways the greatest, of the six “Great +Mogul” Emperors of India. A warrior first, he consolidated his conquests +with the genius of an enlightened statesman. +</p> + +<p> +Alsu, A small village on the north-west shore of the Wular Lake. +</p> + +<p> +Amar Singh (General Raja Sir Amar Singh, K.C.S.I.), Brother of His Highness Sir +Pratab Singh, G.C.S.I., Maharaja of Jammu and Kashmir; is Vice-President of the +States Council and owner of much land in Kashmir, the prosperity of which he +has done much to promote. +</p> + +<p> +Ambér, The ancient capital of Jaipur; was built in the eleventh century, its +Rajput rulers being the powerful allies of Chitor during her struggles against +the Mohammedan invasion. The Palace was built by Raja Maun, <i>circa</i> 1600, +in the days of Akbar, whose cousin he was by marriage ( <i>comp</i>. ). Ambér +was deserted in 1728 by Jey Singh for his new city of Jaipur. +</p> + +<p> +Amethyst, This stone should be much worn in Scotland, particularly on New +Year’s Day, it having been (according to the Greek derivation of the +name) an antidote to drunkenness! +</p> + +<p> +Amira Kadal, The highest of the seven bridges at Srinagar; a fine modern +structure, replacing that built by Amir Khan Jawan Sher, the Pathan, who also +built Sher Garhi. +</p> + +<p> +Anda, Egg. +</p> + +<p> +Anna, the sixteenth part of a rupee, value one penny. +</p> + +<p> +Apharwat, One of the Pir Panjal range, which rises above Gulmarg, height 14,500 +feet. +</p> + +<p> +Aru, A small village, beautifully situated about seven miles above Pahlgam. +</p> + +<p> +Asti, “Go slow.” +</p> + +<p> +Astor, A district on the main route from Kashmir to Gilgit, the village is +about ninety-two miles from Bandipur. Two passes (the Rajdiangan, or Tragbal, +11,800 feet, and the Boorzil, 13,500 feet) have to be crossed. About ten passes +are issued each season to sportsmen, markhor and ibex being the game. +</p> + +<p> +Atchibal, A village seven miles from Islamabad, where many springs burst out +from the rocks. Atchibal was a favourite pleasure-garden of the Mogul Emperors, +the remains of which still exist. +</p> + +<p> +Aurungzeb, The last of the six “Great Moguls”; deposed and +imprisoned his predecessor Shah Jehan in 1658, and reigned until 1707. Bigoted +and intolerant, he shares with Sikander the odium of having destroyed many of +the ancient Hindu temples of Kashmir. +</p> + +<p> +Avantipura, The modern village is near the extensive ruins named after King +Avanti Verma, which formed once the capital of Kashmir. +</p> + +<p> +Bahamarishi, (_Baba-pam-Rishi=_Father Smoothbeard.) A village some three miles +below Gulmarg; the ziarat is named after a rishi, or ascetic, of the sixteenth +century. +</p> + +<p> +Baloo, (Kashmiri, <i>Harpat</i>) “Rara avis in terras, nigroque similima +cignis.” <i>Anglicè</i>, a bear. +</p> + +<p> +Bandipur, An important village on the north shore of the Wular Lake, the +starting-point for Gilgit, &c. Oddly enough, Bandipur is not marked on the +Ordnance Map. +</p> + +<p> +Bandobast, A bargain or arrangement. +</p> + +<p> +Bappa, An eighth-century Rajput hero, and ancestor of the present chiefs of +Mewar; appears to have had strong Mormon proclivities. +</p> + +<p> +Baramula, The third town in Kashmir, having some 900 houses, is built on the +Jhelum at its outflow from the Kashmir Valley: it is also built on the west +focus of seismic disturbance in Kashmir, and was destroyed by an earthquake in +1885, when 3000 Baramulans were killed. We were unaware of these interesting +facts on the morning of April 4! The “Palms of Baramoule,” which +Moore sang of, are like snakes in Iceland—they do not exist. +</p> + +<p> +Bara singh, The Kashmir stag. +</p> + +<p> +Bawan, +</p> + +<p> +Beera, +</p> + +<p> +Bejbehara, The ancient Vijayasvara, a picturesque village and bridge about four +miles below Islamabad. +</p> + +<p> +Bernier, F., a Frenchman attached to the court of Aurungzeb as medical adviser; +wrote <i>Voyage à Kachemire</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Bhanyar, +</p> + +<p> +Bheostie, The Indian Aquarius—the water-bearer. +</p> + +<p> +Bhils, +</p> + +<p> +Birch, (Kashmiri, <i>Burza</i>) The bark used in making the paper for which +Kashmir was noted, also for roofing, it being strong and impervious to water. +</p> + +<p> +Blue pine, <i>Pinus Excelsa</i>, (Kashmiri, <i>Yar</i>.) +</p> + +<p> +Bombay, +</p> + +<p> +Books on Kashmir:(1) Bernier, <i>Voyage à Kachemire</i> (Utrecht, 1724); (2) +Forster’s (G) <i>Journey from Bengal to England</i> (London, 1798); (3) +Moorcroft, <i>Travels in Kashmir, &c.</i> edited by Wilson, 1841; (4) +Jacquomont (V), <i>Voyage dans l’Inde</i> (Paris, 1841); (5) Vigne (G. +T.), <i>Travels in Kashmir, &c.</i>, 1844; (6) Hugel’s +<i>Travels</i>, 1845; (7) Drew, <i>Jummoo and, Ktishmir Territories</i>; and +(8) Lawrence’s <i>Valley of Kashmir</i> 1895. +</p> + +<p> +Budmash, A scoundrel. +</p> + +<p> +Bund, An embankment or dyke to bank a river. +</p> + +<p> +Burra, Big, or great. +</p> + +<p> +Carnelian, “Flesh-stone”—for origin read Marryat’s +<i>Pacha of Many Tales</i> +</p> + +<p> +Chakhoti, +</p> + +<p> +Chandni Chowk, +</p> + +<p> +Chaplies, +</p> + +<p> +Chappar, Paddle with heart-shaped blade. +</p> + +<p> +Chatris, The cenotaphs of the Maharanas of Mewar; they stand in a walled +enclosure between Udaipur and the railway station. +</p> + +<p> +Chenar, <i>Plaianus Orientals</i> or Oriental plane. This magnificent tree is +supposed to have been introduced into Kashmir by the Mogul Emperors. It grows +to a great size, one measured by Lawrence being sixty-three feet five inches in +circumference at five feet above the ground! There is a very fair specimen in +Kew Gardens, between the pond and the “herbaceous border.” +</p> + +<p> +Chilas, +</p> + +<p> +Chit, A note or letter, and also a character or recommendation, Every man +collects something, from pictures to tram tickets—the native collects +“chits.” Like other collectors he will beg, borrow, or steal to +improve his store, and life is made a burden by the perpetual writing and +reading of these mendacious documents. +</p> + +<p> +Chitor, +</p> + +<p> +Chittagul Nullah, The next nullah to the south-west of the Wangat. The village +of Wangat is wrongly placed in it, according to the Ordnance Map. +</p> + +<p> +Chondawats, A Rajput clan. +</p> + +<p> +Chota, Little, <i>Chota Hazri = petit dejeúner</i> or early breakfast. +</p> + +<p> +Chowkidar, A functionary whose principal duty seems to be to snore in the +verandah at night and scare other robbers away. +</p> + +<p> +Chupatty, A flabby sort of scone. +</p> + +<p> +Chuprassie, +</p> + +<p> +Cockburn’s Agency, The nearest approach to “Whiteley’s” +in Kashmir. +</p> + +<p> +Dâk, Post. <i>Dâk Bungalow</i> = posting station. +</p> + +<p> +Dal Lake, <i>Dal</i> means lake (in a plain), while <i>nag</i> is a mountain +tarn. +</p> + +<p> +Dandy, A sort of enclosed chair with four projecting arms, wherein pretty +ladies are carried when it doesn’t suit them to walk. +</p> + +<p> +Degchies, Cooking utensils—best made of aluminium, owing to the unclean +ways of native scullions. +</p> + +<p> +Dekho, See, look! Delhi, The capital of the Mogul Emperors, dating from 1638, +when Shah Jehan commenced to build the great fort. The ancient city lies some +miles to the south. Delhi was taken by General Lake in 1803. +</p> + +<p> +Deodar, (Kashmiri, <i>Diár.) Cedrus Lebani</i>, var. <i>Deodara</i>. The most +valuable tree in Kashmir, where it was formerly abundant. It is now chiefly +found in the north-west districts, and it is carefully cherished by the +“Jungly Sahib” and his myrmidons. +</p> + +<p> +Dobie, The thing that ruins all your shirts and causes you to shatter the Third +Commandment. +</p> + +<p> +Domel, Village with Dâk Bungalow, at the confluence of the Jhelum and the +Kishenganga. +</p> + +<p> +Doolie, +</p> + +<p> +Doras, +</p> + +<p> +Dounga, “The boats of Kashmir are very long and narrow, and are rowed +with paddles from the stern, which is a little elevated, to the centre; a tilt +of mats is extended for the shelter of passengers or merchandize” +(Forster); the mats are made of “pits” (reed mace), a swamp plant. +</p> + +<p> +Drogmulla, +</p> + +<p> +Dubgam, A village at junction of the Pohru with the Jhelum, about seven miles +above Baramula. +</p> + +<p> +EARTHQUAKE, An upsetting event of too frequent occurrence in Kashmir. +Particularly severe visitations occurred in 1827 and 1885 (<i>see</i> +Baramula). +</p> + +<p> +Echo Lake, A small tarn on the top of Apharwat. +</p> + +<p> +Ek, One. (<i>Ek dam</i>=immediately.) +</p> + +<p> +Ekka, +</p> + +<p> +Embroidery, +</p> + +<p> +Erin Nullah, +</p> + +<p> +Eshmakam, =<i>Eysh Makám</i>(“the delightful halting-place”) Above +the village stands the shrine of Zyn-u-din, one of the four disciples of the +Kashmir patron saint, Shah Nur-u-din. +</p> + +<p> +FATERPUR-SIGHRI, +</p> + +<p> +Ferozepore Nullah, +</p> + +<p> +Floating Gardens, +</p> + +<p> +GANESBAL, The boulder, red-stained and extremely sacred, which lies in the +middle of the Lidar; bears some fancied likeness to Ganésh (the elephant-headed +god). +</p> + +<p> +Gangabal, A sacred lake, lying under the north glaciers of Haramok at the +elevation of 12,000 feet. It is said to be a source of the Ganges(!) and is an +object of pilgrimage. +</p> + +<p> +Ghari, +</p> + +<p> +Ghari Habibullah, +</p> + +<p> +Ghari Wallah, The Jehu of these parts. +</p> + +<p> +Ghât, +</p> + +<p> +Gold mohur, +</p> + +<p> +Golf, +</p> + +<p> +Gram, +</p> + +<p> +Grass shoes, +</p> + +<p> +Gujar, Is not a Kashmiri, being a member of the semi-nomad tribes which graze +buffaloes and goats upon the hills. He speaks Parímu or Hindki. +</p> + +<p> +Gulmarg, (The Rose Marg.) The most frequented resort of the English in Kashmir +during July and August; stands some 8500 feet above the sea, wherefore some +people find the air too rarefied. Gulmarg was first mentioned by Yusaf Khan in +1580. +</p> + +<p> +Gunderbal, A village placed where the Sind River debouches into the plain. The +starting-point for Leh and Thibet. +</p> + +<p> +Gupkar, Town of Gopaditya(?). A wine-manufacturing suburb of Srinagar, +overlooking the Dal. +</p> + +<p> +Gurais, A large village on the Bandipur-Gilgit route, lying on the right bank +of the Kishenganga, about forty-two miles from Bandipur. +</p> + +<p> +HARAMOK, The predominating mountain (16,903 feet) of the valley, from almost +every part of which his square-headed bulk is visible; hence the name, which +means “all faces” or “all mouths.” A legend holds that +a vein of emerald lies near the summit, and that within view of this gem no +snake can live +</p> + +<p> +Harbagwan, +</p> + +<p> +Hari Parbat, (“The Green Hill”) So named on account of the gardens +and vineyards which clothed its sides. Became the residence of Akbar, who built +the wall round foot of hill in 1597. The fort on top was the work of the +Pathan, Atta Mohamad Khan. +</p> + +<p> +Haripur, +</p> + +<p> +Harwan, +</p> + +<p> +Hasrat Bal Mosque, (The Prophet’s Hair.) Various fairs and festivals are +held here, the principal one being held upon the day that the Prophet rode up +to Heaven on his mule Al Barak (the Thunderer). This mule, by-the-bye, is one +of the five favoured beasts which the Mohammedans believe destined to +immortality; the others are (1) Abraham’s Ram, (2) Balaam’s Ass, +(3) the one upon which Christ rode on Palm Sunday, and (4) the dog which +guarded the seven sleepers. +</p> + +<p> +Hassanabad Mosque, Built by Nur Jehan Begum (Nourmahal), and destroyed by the +Sikhs. +</p> + +<p> +Hassan Abdal, (_Abdal=_fanatic). +</p> + +<p> +Hoopoe, Un-natural history of. +</p> + +<p> +INSECTS, Of benign insects such as butterflies there are singularly few. Both +mosquitoes and flies are very troublesome during the hot weather in the valley. +Visits to native huts will probably lead to an introduction to other insects. +In India ants become a nuisance: I met with a foraging party of extremely large +and well-nourished ones as I entered my bath place one morning. I recognised +them for the descendants—decadent somewhat—of the famous fellows +who played Alberich to the Gold of Hindostan and regarding which Herodotus +(commonly known as the Father of History, or of Lies, I forget which) asserted +that they were of the bigness of foxes and ran with incredible swiftness. He +evidently got this yarn from Pliny— +</p> + +<p> +“Indicae Formicae. Aurum ex cavernus egerunt terrae Ipsis autem color +Fehum magnitudo Aegypti Luporum” (Lib. xi. ch. 31)— +</p> + +<p> +and passed it on to Sir J. Maundevil, who swallowed it greedily. “Theise +pissmyres ben grete as houndes; so that no man dar come to the hilles, for the +pissmyres wolde assaylen hem and devouren hem” (ch. xxx) For the wily +method of catching the ants napping, together with other <i>contes +drolatiques</i>, read Maundevil’s <i>Travels</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Iris, (Kashmiri, <i>Krishm</i>) Succeeds the tulip and precedes the rose as +typical of Kashmirian Flora, is used as fodder, and the fibre makes ropes, +which are, however, not durable. +</p> + +<p> +Islamabad, (Or Anant Nag, the “Place of Countless Springs.”) Is the +second city in Kashmir, having about 9000 inhabitants; stands at the head of +the navigable Jhelum, fifty miles by water and thirty-two by land above +Srinagar. +</p> + +<p> +Jade, +</p> + +<p> +Jagganath, +</p> + +<p> +Jain, A small sect founded by Mahavera, a contemporary of Gautama. The Jains +were great temple-builders. +</p> + +<p> +Jehangir, +</p> + +<p> +Jeimal, With Putta, one of the national heroes of the Rajputs. They fell, while +mere boys, in the heroic defence of Chitor against Akbar. +</p> + +<p> +Jey Singh, (Sowar Jey Singh.) Succeeded to the throne of Ambér in 1699, founded +Jaipur in 1728. He wrote the following, which I had not read when I visited his +observatory at Jaipur “Let us devote ourselves at the altar of the King +of Kings, hallowed be his name! In the book of the register of whose power the +lofty orbs of Heaven are but a few leaves, and the stars, and that heavenly +courser the sun, small pieces of money in the treasury of the Most High.” +</p> + +<p> +Jheel, A small lake, or pond. +</p> + +<p> +Jhelum, (Kashmiri, <i>Veth</i>, Hindu, <i>Vetasta</i>, the ancient +<i>Hydaspes</i>.) Rises at Vernag, becomes navigable at Kanbal, and is so for +120 miles, when it forms rapids below Baramula. Average breadth at Srinagar in +December 210 feet, average depth 9 feet. +</p> + +<p> +Johur, +</p> + +<p> +Kaj-nag, +</p> + +<p> +Kali, (“The Terrible.”) Wife of Shiva or Mahadeva. +</p> + +<p> +Kanbal, +</p> + +<p> +Karachi, +</p> + +<p> +Karewas, “Where the mountains cease to be steep, fan-like projections, +with flat, arid tops, and bare of trees, run out towards the valley” +(Lawrence) +</p> + +<p> +Kashmir=Kashuf-mir (the country of Kashuf). Was ruled by Tartar princes from +about 150-100 B.C. for several centuries; conquered after a year’s +struggle by Mahmoud of Guznee (1014-1015 A.D.). Invaded by Baber and Humayun, +and finally conquered by latter in 1543, and formally annexed by Akbar in 1588. +After the fall of Delhi (Nadir Shah) in 1739, Kashmir fell into the hands of +Amirs of Cabul in 1753. It was captured by the Sikhs under Ranjit Singh in +1819, and, after the defeat of the Sikhs at the hands of the British, was +handed over to Gulab Singh of Jammu for twenty-five lacs of rupees +“Kailasa is the best place in the three worlds, Himalaya the best part of +Kailasa, and Kashmir the best place in Himalaya” <i>(Rajatarangini +Kulan</i>). +</p> + +<p> +Kastoora, Merula Boulboul (the grey-winged ousel). Jane bought +“Freddie” one day in Srinagar, and he has been our friend and +companion ever since—being at this present (August 1907) in rude health. +</p> + +<p> +Khansamah, A Cook. +</p> + +<p> +Khubbar, News—usually untrustworthy. +</p> + +<p> +Khud, A steep slope or precipice. +</p> + +<p> +Khudstick, An alpenstock made of tough wood, usually of Cotoneaster baccillaris +(lun); should be well tested before purchase, as life may depend on its +strength. +</p> + +<p> +Killanmarg, A wide sloping marg above Gulmarg, just above the pine forest on +the slopes of Apharwat. +</p> + +<p> +Kilta, Creel made of the pliant withes of the Wych Hazel, <i>Parrotia</i> +<i>Jacquemontiana</i> (Chob-i-poh). +</p> + +<p> +Kishenganga, A large affluent of the Jhelum which drains the Tilail Valley, +passes Gurais, and joins the Jhelum below Muzafferabad. +</p> + +<p> +Kitardaji, Forest house in the Machipura. +</p> + +<p> +Kitmaghar, Bearer. +</p> + +<p> +Kobala, +</p> + +<p> +Kohinar, +</p> + +<p> +Kolahoi, or Gwash Brari, 17,800 ft. The loftiest peak in Kashmir proper. It has +not yet been ascended. +</p> + +<p> +Koolan, +</p> + +<p> +Kralpura, +</p> + +<p> +Kulan, A peak of the Pir Panjal, at the head of the Ferozepore Nullah. +</p> + +<p> +Kulgam, or Kuligam. +</p> + +<p> +Kunis, +</p> + +<p> +Kurnavati, +</p> + +<p> +Kutab Minar, +</p> + +<p> +Lacquer, +</p> + +<p> +Lahore, Capital of the Punjab. An ancient and interesting city, which (like +Agra and Delhi) only attained its zenith of prosperity in the days of Akbar. +</p> + +<p> +Lakri, A stick (at Gulmarg also a golf-club). +</p> + +<p> +Lalpura, A charming village in the Lolab. +</p> + +<p> +Larch, +</p> + +<p> +Lidar, Liddar, or Lambodri, Drains the Kolahoi district, and forms the first +substantial affluent of the Jhelum, which it joins below Islamabad. +</p> + +<p> +Lidarwat, A small Grujar village fifteen miles above Pahlgam, on the left bank +of the river, about 10,000 ft. above sea-level. +</p> + +<p> +Logue or Log, Folk. +</p> + +<p> +Lumbadhar, The headman of a village. +</p> + +<p> +Machipura, “The Place of Fish”—why, I cannot imagine! The +district lying along the east foothills of the Kaj-nag. +</p> + +<p> +Mahadeo, (Mahadeva or Shiva) A sacred mountain and object of pilgrimage, north +of Srinagar, 13,500 feet high. +</p> + +<p> +Maharaja of Jammu and Kashmir, H.H. Sir Pratab Singh, G.C.S.I., succeeded his +father Ranbir Singh (who was third son of Gulah Singh) in 1885. The family is +of the Rajput Dogras. “His kindness to all classes has won him the +affection of his people” (Lawrence). +</p> + +<p> +Maharana, H.H. the Maharana Dhiraj Sir Fateh Singh, G.C.S.I., of Udaipur, is +head of the Rajput princes in point of blood, being descended from the +Suryabansi, or Children of the Sun. +</p> + +<p> +Mahseer, +</p> + +<p> +Malingam, +</p> + +<p> +Manji or Hanji, A Kashmiri water-thief or boatman. +</p> + +<p> +Manserah, +</p> + +<p> +Mar (snake) Canal. A dirty but most picturesque waterway between the Dal and +the Anchar Lakes. +</p> + +<p> +Marg,(Margh?) Persian for a garden abounding in plants. +</p> + +<p> +Margam, +</p> + +<p> +Martand, The principal temple in Kashmir—stands on a high karewa some few +miles from Islamabad. +</p> + +<p> +Metal-work, +</p> + +<p> +Mewar, +</p> + +<p> +Mogul, The Moguls were a warlike people of Central Asia, who, under Timur +(Tamerlane) their chief, sacked Delhi in 1398. At the great battle of Panipat, +in 1524, Baber the Mogul (direct descendant of Timur) defeated the Sultans of +Delhi. He was the first of the six “Great” Moguls (the others being +Humayun, Akbar, Jehangir, Shah Jehan, and Aurungzeb), who ruled India with +unparalleled magnificence for 150 years. +</p> + +<p> +Mulberry, (<i>Morus sp</i>. Kashmiri <i>Tul</i>) A very precious tree in +Kashmir, on account of the silk industry. It grows to a great size, attaining a +girth of 25 feet. +</p> + +<p> +Murghi, A fowl. +</p> + +<p> +Murree, A hill station and sanatorium, 37 miles from Rawal Pindi, on a hill +7500 feet above the sea. Its importance dates from 1850. Forster speaks of it +as a small village in 1786. +</p> + +<p> +Musafferabad, (“The Place of Victory”) Built by Masufer Khan, Rajah +of Chikri. +</p> + +<p> +Mussick, Water-skin. +</p> + +<p> +NAG, A mountain lake or tarn. +</p> + +<p> +Nagas, Human-bodied, snake-tailed gods. +</p> + +<p> +Nagmarg, +</p> + +<p> +Nanga Parbat, A great mountain in the Chilas country, 26,620 feet high (the +fourth in point of height in the world), Mommery and two guides were destroyed +in 1895, probably by an avalanche, while attempting the ascent. +</p> + +<p> +Nassim Bagh, (“The Garden of Delicious Breezes”) A favourite spot +in the days of the Mogul Emperors. Akbar planted 1200 chenars. +</p> + +<p> +Neem tree. +</p> + +<p> +Neve, Dr. A. He and his brother are surgeons to the Kashmir Medical Mission, +where for many years they have carried on the somewhat thankless task of +benefiting the natives. +</p> + +<p> +Nishat Bagh, (“The Garden of Drink”) +</p> + +<p> +Nopura, A village on the Pohru. +</p> + +<p> +Nourmahal, (“Light of the Palace”), or, more properly, Nur Jehan +Begum (“Light of the World”), was the wife of Jehaugir, celebrated +in Mooree’s <i>Lalla Rookh</i>. Her life story was very curious. See +Forster’s <i>Journey from Bengal to England</i>, London, 1798. +</p> + +<p> +Nullah, A valley or ravine. +</p> + +<p> +Numdah, +</p> + +<p> +ONTALA, +</p> + +<p> +Oodi Singh, +</p> + +<p> +PADMANI, “The Lotus-lovely Lady.” +</p> + +<p> +Pagdandy, A short cut. +</p> + +<p> +Pahlgam, “The Shepherd’s Village,” A Kashmiri summer resort +for those who like quiet. It is 27 miles from Islamabad up the Lidar Valley, +and is somewhat over 7000 feet above the sea. +</p> + +<p> +Pampur, (Padma-pur, city of Vishnu, or Padmun-pur, “the place of +beauty”), principally noted now for its Pampur roti or bread, a +speciality of the place. +</p> + +<p> +Pandrettan, or Pandrenthan, =Puranadhisthana, “the old capital.” +Was built in the time of Partha by his Prime Minister, Meru. +</p> + +<p> +Parana Chauni, +</p> + +<p> +Patan. “The City” or “Ferry,” the ancient Sankarapura, +Sankaravarma having built two temples there at the end of the eighth century. +</p> + +<p> +Peechy, Afterwards, later, by-and-bye +</p> + +<p> +Peri Mahal, “The Abode of the Fairies.” Built on the hill above +Gupkar by Prince Dara Shikoh, probably for astronomical purposes +</p> + +<p> +Piasse, The onion. +</p> + +<p> +Pice, See Rupee. +</p> + +<p> +Pichola Lake, +</p> + +<p> +Pir Panjab, Pir=Dogri for peak Pantzal, Kashmiri for ditto Pir also meant a +saint, particularly one who lived in the pass in the days of Shah Jehan and +Aurungzeb and who was interviewed by Bernier. The Pir Panjal was the route +followed by the Moguls when coming to Kashmir, and, rough as it is, they sent +elephants along it. The highest peak of the Pir Panjal is Tatakuti, 15,500 +feet. +</p> + +<p> +Pohru, +</p> + +<p> +Poonch, A native state lying south-west of Kashmir, to which it is tributary. +The Raja Buldeo Singh is cousin to the Maharajah of Kashmir. +</p> + +<p> +Poplar. There are two varieties of Poplar in Kashmir, the Italian or Black +Poplar, and the White, the latter attains a great size, one near Gurais +measuring 127 feet in height and 14-1/2 feet in girth. +</p> + +<p> +Porcelain, +</p> + +<p> +Port Saïd, +</p> + +<p> +Puttoo, Native cloth. +</p> + +<p> +RAINAWARI, +</p> + +<p> +Rajput, The brave and chivalrous inhabitants of Rajputana. Bernier, probably +influenced by Mogul opinion, attributes much of their valour to opium, as the +following curious extract shows “Ils sont grands preneurs d’opium, +et je me suis quelque fois etonné de la quantité que je leur en voiois prendre; +aussi ils s’y accoutûmerent dès la jeunesse; le jour d’une bataille +ils ne s’oublient pas de doubler la dose; cette drogue les anime ou +plutot les enyvre, et les rend insensibles an danger, de sorte quils se jettant +dans le combat comma des bêtes furieuses, ne sachant ce que c’est de fuir +… c’est un plaisir de les voir ainsi avec leur fumée d’opium dans +la tête s’entre embrasser quand on est prêt de combattre et se dire adieu +les uns aux autres, comme gens qui sont resolus de mourir.”—Vol. i. +p. 54. +</p> + +<p> +Ramble-tamble egg, Scrambled eggs. +</p> + +<p> +Ram chikor, The great snow partridge (<i>Tetragallus Himalayensis</i>). +</p> + +<p> +Rampur. A small village in the Jhelum Valley, and a village on the way into the +Lolab <i>viâ</i> Kunis. +</p> + +<p> +Rawal Pindi, +</p> + +<p> +Rassad, “Field Allowance” or extra rations given to coolies when +doing any mountain work or away from supplies. +</p> + +<p> +Resai, +</p> + +<p> +Roorkhee chair, An extremely comfortable and portable chair made by the R.E. at +Roorkhee. +</p> + +<p> +Rope bridge, +</p> + +<p> +Rupee=one fifteenth of a sovereign, or 1s. and 4d. 12 pice (or pies)= 4 paisa = +1 anna = 1 penny 16 annas = 1 rupee. +</p> + +<p> +SAAF kuro, “Make clean.” +</p> + +<p> +Saktawats, A Rapjut clan. +</p> + +<p> +Sari, A woman’s garment, usually brilliant in colour, blood-red and dark +blue being favoured. +</p> + +<p> +Sekwas, +</p> + +<p> +Sellar, +</p> + +<p> +Serow, <i>Nemorhaidus bubalerius</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Sesodia, The ruling family of Udaipur, formerly known as Gehlote. +</p> + +<p> +Shadipur, “The Place of Marriage”—probably with reference to +the junction of the Sind and Jhelum rivers. +</p> + +<p> +Shah Jehan, The greatest builder of the Mogul Emperors. Ruled from 1627 to +1658, when he was deposed and imprisoned by Aurungzeb. +</p> + +<p> +Shalimar, +</p> + +<p> +Shalimar Bagh, +</p> + +<p> +Shambrywa, One of the peaks of the Kaj-nag. +</p> + +<p> +Shiah, A Mohammedan sect, usually much at variance with those of Sunni +persuasion. +</p> + +<p> +Shikara, A light sort of canoe. +</p> + +<p> +Shikari, A necessary joint in the “fighting tail” of the sportive +visitor to Kashmir. Usually a fraud, but, if not too proud, makes quite a good +golf caddy. +</p> + +<p> +Shisha Nag, “The Glassy or Leaden Lake.” +</p> + +<p> +Silver fir, <i>Abies Webbiana</i> (Kashmiri, <i>Sungal</i>). Grows to a great +height, being known 110 feet high and 16 feet in girth. +</p> + +<p> +Sind Desert, +</p> + +<p> +Sind Valley, +</p> + +<p> +Singhara, Meaning “horned nut,” the water chestnut <i>(Trapa +bispinosa</i>). An article of diet much prized by the Kashmiri. +</p> + +<p> +Sogul, +</p> + +<p> +Sonamarg, “The Golden Marg.” A summer station high up the Sind +Valley on the route to Leh and Ladak. +</p> + +<p> +Sopor, =Sonapur, or the Golden City. A somewhat unclean little town of some 600 +houses on the Jhelum, about eight miles by road and twelve by water above +Baramula. +</p> + +<p> +Spill Canal, Cut in 1904, after the Great Flood of 1903, to carry some of the +river clear of Srinagar and ease the pressure on the bund. +</p> + +<p> +Spruce, <i>Picca, Morunda</i>. (Kashmiri, <i>Kachal</i>.) +</p> + +<p> +Srinagar, <i>Surga Nagur</i>, City of the Sun. Has a population of 120,000. +Became capital in 960 A.D., when the ancient city of Pandrettan was burnt in +the reign of Abimanyu. The city was called Kashmir until recently, Martand +being called Sringar by Jacquemont. +</p> + +<p> +Sultanpur, +</p> + +<p> +Sumbal, Said to be the site of the ancient city Jayapura. +</p> + +<p> +Sunt-i-kul = “Apple-tree Canal.” +</p> + +<p> +TAJ MAHAL, The magnificent tomb of Mumtez Mahal, favourite wife of Shah Jehan. +</p> + +<p> +Takht-i-Suleiman, A steep isolated hill rising nearly 1000 feet above Srinagar, +crowned by a temple which is built on the ruins of a very ancient edifice. The +Takht or Throne of Solomon is, according to the legend, the place which Solomon +occupied during his mythical visit to Kashmir. +</p> + +<p> +Tangmarg, “The Open Marg”. Is the village about 1500 foot below +Gulmarg, which is the nearest point to Gulmarg attainable by wheeled +conveyance. +</p> + +<p> +Tattoo, A pony. +</p> + +<p> +Tehsildhar, The functionary who has jurisdiction over a tehsil. +</p> + +<p> +Temples, For full description read Lawrence <i>(Valley of Kashmir</i>, chap. +vi.) Their ruined state is partly due to earthquakes, but probably still more +to the iconoclastic activity of Sikandar (<i>d.</i> 1416) and Aurungzeb. +</p> + +<p> +Tilail, +</p> + +<p> +Tonga, +</p> + +<p> +Topaz, Name derived from the Greek “to conjecture”—because no +one knew whence they came! +</p> + +<p> +Tower of Fame, +</p> + +<p> +Tower of Victory, +</p> + +<p> +Tragbal, +</p> + +<p> +Tragam, A large village south-west of the Lolab, whence a route leads to +Musafferabad. +</p> + +<p> +Tret, A station at the foot of the Murree hills on the road to Rawal Pindi. +</p> + +<p> +Trieste, +</p> + +<p> +Tronkol, +</p> + +<p> +Turquoise, +</p> + +<p> +UDAIPUR, The capital of the ancient and powerful Rajput State of Mewar, founded +by Oodi Singh after the fall of Chitor. Uri, +</p> + +<p> +VERNABOUG, +</p> + +<p> +Vernag, +</p> + +<p> +WALNUT, A valuable tree in Kashmir, where its fruit and timber are both greatly +esteemed; grows to a very large size, one in the Lolab having a girth of 18 +feet 10 inches. +</p> + +<p> +Wangat, +</p> + +<p> +Wardwan, The mountainous district on the east of Kashmir. +</p> + +<p> +Water buffalo, An ungainly and “sneevish” beast beloved of Gujars +and nobody else. +</p> + +<p> +Weights 2 lbs. (English)=1 seer. 40 seers = 1 maund. +</p> + +<p> +Wood carving, +</p> + +<p> +Wular, Means “cave”. The largest lake in India, being 12-1/2 x 5 +miles in average extent. In floods it covers much extra space. +</p> + +<p> +Wych hazel, <i>See</i> Kilta. +</p> + +<p> +YAKDAN, +</p> + +<p> +ZIARAT, A Mohammedan shrine. Zoji La, The pass at the head of the Sind Valley +which is crossed on going to Leh, height 11,300 feet. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11873 ***</div> +</body> + +</html> + + |