Begums, Thugs and White Mughals

by Fanny Parkes

  MARCH 16TH 1838 – We drove out twenty miles to the place where the palanquins awaited us, travelled dāk all night, found a buggy ready for us at the last stage and reached our friend’s house at Saharanpūr the next morning by eight o’clock. On the road, about five o’clock in the morning, I was much delighted with the first view of the snowy ranges; I never anticipated seeing mountains covered with snow again and, as I lay in my palanquin, watching the scene for miles, breathing the cool air from the hills, and viewing the mountains beyond them, I felt quite a different being, charmed and delighted. Mr and Miss B— received us very kindly; and I had the pleasure of meeting an old friend, Captain Sturt, of the engineers – the man whose noble conduct distinguished him so highly and who was shot during the fatal retreat of the army in Afghānistan. In the evening we visited the Botanical Garden; it is an excellent one and in high order; some tigers were there, fiercely growling over their food, several bears and a porcupine. The garden is well watered by the canal which passes through it. The Governor-General broke up his camp at Saharanpūr and quitted, with a small retinue, for Mussoorie the day before we arrived.

  March 14th – We took leave of our friends, and resumed our dāk journey at four o’clock; during the night we passed Lord Auckland’s camp, which was pitched in a very picturesque spot at Mohunchaukī: the tents, the elephants and the camels formed beautiful groups among the trees, and I stopped the palanquin a short time to admire them. We passed through a forest – or sāl jangal, as they call it – in which wild elephants are sometimes found, and met with a little adventure: a tiger was lying by the roadside; the bearers put down the palanquin, waved their torches, and howled and screamed with all their might: the light and noise scared the animal – he moved off. I got out of the palanquin to look at a tiger au naturel, saw some creature moving away, but could not distinguish what animal it was; the bearers were not six feet from him when they first saw him; it was a fine, clear, moonlight night. The jangal looked well, and its interest was heightened by the idea you might now and then see a wild beast. A number of fires were burning on the sides of the hills and running up in different directions; these fires, they tell me, are lighted by the zamīndars, to burn up the old dry grass; when that is done, the new grass springs up and there is plenty of food for the cattle; the fires were remarkable in the darkness of the night. For some miles up the pass of Keeree, our way was over the dry bed of a river; on both sides rose high cliffs, covered with trees; the moonlight was strong and the pass one of great interest; here and there you heard the noise of water, the pleasing sound of a mountain stream turning small mills for grinding corn, called Panchakkī. In the morning we arrived at the Company’s bungalow at Rājpūr.

  Rājpūr is situated at the foot of the Hills: I was delighted with the place; the view from the bungalow put me in mind of Switzerland. We went to Mrs Theodore’s hotel, to see her collection of stuffed birds and beasts; a complete set costs Rs 1,600 (£160). At the bottom of the valley between the Hills I heard the most delightful sound of rushing waters: taking a servant with me, I went down the steep footpath, irresistibly attracted by the sound, and found the mountain rill collected into a mill-dam from which, rushing down, it turned several mills; and one of the streams was turned off into the valley, forming the little cascade the sound of which had attracted me. How bright, clear, cold, and delicious was the water! Being too unwell to bear the fatigue of climbing the hill, I sent for a hill-pony, called a gūnth; he was brought down; the little fellow never had a woman on his back before, but he carried me bravely up the sheep-path, for road there was none. Motī, the name of the handsome gūnth, is an iron-grey hill-pony – more like a dwarf-horse than a pony; he has an exceedingly thick, shaggy mane, and a very thick, long tail – the most sure-footed sagacious animal; he never gets tired, and will go all day up and down hill; seldom fights, and is never alarmed when passing the most dangerous places. Give your gūnth his head, and he will carry you safely. Horses are dangerous – even the most quiet become alarmed in the hills. Captain S— bought this gūnth at the Hurdwar fair; he came from Almorah, cost Rs 160 (£16); and Rs 300 rupees have been refused for him.

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  The whole day I roamed about Rājpūr; the Paharīs (the Hill-men), who had come down to bring up our luggage, were animals to stare at: like the pictures I have seen of Tartars – little fellows, with such flat ugly faces, dressed in black woollen coarse trousers, a blanket of the same over their shoulders; a black, greasy, round leather cap on their heads, sometimes decorated all round their faces with bunches of hill-flowers, freshly gathered; a rope round their waists. Their limbs are stout, and the sinews in the legs strongly developed from constantly climbing the Hills. They are very honest and very idle; moreover, most exceedingly dirty. Such were the little Hill fellows we met at Rājpūr.

  March 16th – This morning the gūnth came to the door for my companion to ride up the Hills: I was to be carried up in a jampān. A jampān is an armchair, with a top to it, to shelter you from the sun or rain; four long poles are affixed to it. Eight of those funny little black Hill fellows were harnessed between the poles, after their fashion, and they carried me up the hill. My two women went up in dolīs, a sort of tray for women, in which one person can sit native fashion; these trays are hung upon long poles and carried by Hill-men. The ascent from Rājpūr is seven miles, climbing almost every yard of the way. The different views delighted me: on the side of the Hills facing Rājpūr the trees were stunted and there was but little vegetation; on the other side, the northern, we came upon fine oak and rhodedendron trees – such beautiful rhodedendrons! They are forest trees, not shrubs as you have them in England. The people gathered the wild flowers and filled my lap with them. The jangal pear, in full blossom, the raspberry bushes and the nettles delighted me; I could not help sending a man from the plains, who had never seen a nettle, to gather one; he took hold of it and, relinquishing his hold instantly in excessive surprise, exclaimed – ‘It has stung me; it is a scorpion plant.’ Violets were under every rock; and the wild, pleasing notes of the Hill birds were to be heard in every direction. The delicious air, so pure, so bracing, so unlike any air I had breathed for fifteen years – with what delight I inhaled it! It seemed to promise health and strength and spirits: I fancied the lurking fever crept out of my body as I breathed the mountain air; I was so happy, so glad I was alive; I felt a buoyancy of spirit, like that enjoyed by a child.

  The only bungalow we could procure was one on the top of the hill of Landowr; it was an uncomfortable one, but a roof was not to be despised in such cold weather: we had a fire lighted instantly and kept it burning all day. Where now was the vile fever that had bowed me down in the plains? It had vanished with the change of climate, as if by magic. The Hill air made me feel so well and strong, we set off on our ponies in the evening to visit Mr E—’s house; it is beautiful, built with great taste and highly finished; its situation is fine, on a hill, at the further end of Landowr. Thence we went to Colonel P—’s bungalow, a good house, well situated, but very far from supplies; he offered it to me for the season for Rs 1,200 – £120 for seven months. From the barracks at the top of Landowr, the view of the Snowy Ranges is magnificent. In any other country these hills would be called mountains; but, being near the foot of the Himalaya that in the distance tower above them, they have obtained the title of the ‘Hills’.’ Landowr, Bhadràj, Ben Oge, are covered with oak and rhododendron trees; the valleys between them, by the Hill people called khuds, are extremely deep: at the bottom of these khuds water is found in little rills, but it is very scarce. About two thousand feet below Landowr water is abundant, and there are some waterfalls. The Hills are very grand, but have not the picturesque beauty of the valley of Chamonix– and yet it is unfair to make the comparison at Landowr; Chamonix is at the foot of Mont Blanc: to compare the two, one ought to proceed to the foot of the Snowy Ranges, where their solitary grandeur would overpower the remembrance of Mont Blanc. I long to go there: the difficulties
and privations would be great; I could not go alone and the fatigue would be excessive; nevertheless, I long to make a pilgrimage to Gangotrī, the source of the Ganges.

  March 17th – Started on our ponies at seven o’clock to ride to Mussoorie, which is only a short distance from Landowr. The scenery at that place is of a tamer cast; the southern side of the hill, on which most of the houses are situated, puts me in mind of the back of the Isle of Wight, but on a larger scale; the projecting rocks and trees, with gentlemen’s houses in every nook, all built on the side of the hill, give the resemblance. The northern side is called the Camel’s Back, from a fancied resemblance of the hill to the shape of that animal; there the scenery differs entirely. The southern side, on which Mussoorie is situated, has few trees and looks down on the valley of the Doon; the northern side is covered with fine trees, the hills abrupt; a wildness and grandeur, unknown on the southern side, is all around you; the valleys fearfully deep, the pathway narrow, and in some parts so bad, only one foot in breadth is left for a pony. At first I felt a cold shudder pass over me as I rode by such places; in the course of a week I was perfectly accustomed to the sort of thing, and quite fearless. A pathway three feet in width at its utmost breadth is a handsome road in the Hills; a perpendicular rock on one side, and a precipice, perhaps three or four hundred feet deep, may be on the other. It is all very well when the road is pretty open; but when you have to turn the sharp corner of a rock, if looking over a precipice makes you giddy, shut your eyes and give your gūnth the rein, and you will be sure to find yourself safe on the other side. The little rascals never become giddy; and after a short time you will turn such corners at a canter as a thing of course. I was delighted with the wildness of the scenery – it equalled my expectations. In front of Mussoorie you are in high public, the road called the Mall is from eight to ten feet wide, covered with children, nurses, dogs and sickly ladies and gentlemen, walking about gaily dressed. I always avoid the Mall; I go out for enjoyment and health and do not want to talk to people. The children! It is charming to see their rosy faces; they look as well and as strong as any children in England; the climate of the Hills is certainly far superior to that of England. Not liking my bungalow, I changed it for another half way up the hill of Landowr.

  March 17th – Lord Auckland and the Misses Eden arrived today, and took up their residence at Colonel Young’s, a little below, on the hill of Landowr.

  From my bungalow the view is beautiful, and we have as much air as man can desire. The first thing was to get pardas, stuffed with cotton, for every window and door; the next, to hire a set of Hill-men to cut and bring wood from the khuds, and water and grass for the ponies. A long ride round Waverly was the evening’s amusement; then came a dinner of excellent Hill-mutton, by the side of a blazing fire of the beautiful rhododendron wood! The well-closed doors kept out the cold, and my kind relative congratulated me on having lost my fever and being so comfortable in the Hills.

  Visited Mr Webb’s hotel for families; it is an excellent one and very commodious. There is a ballroom and five billiard tables with slate beds; these slate beds have only just arrived in India and have very lately been introduced in England.

  March 19th – During the time I was waiting for my relative, who had accompanied Lord Auckland, to show him the hospital and the different buildings at Landowr which were under his charge, my attention was arrested by a great number of Hill-men, carrying large bundles of moss down to the plains; they grind up the moss with barley-meal and use it as soap; it is in great repute at weddings.

  Rode my little black horse but found him not so pleasant in the Hills as a gūnth, and more fatiguing. At the foot of Landowr there is an excellent bazaar: everything is to be had there – Pâtée foie gras, bécasses truffées, shola hats covered with the skin of the pelican, champagne, bareilly couches, shoes, Chinese books, pickles, long poles for climbing the mountains and various incongruous articles. Many years ago, a curious little rosary had been brought me from the santa casa of our Lady of Loretto – a facsimile of the little curiosity was lying for sale in the Landowr bazaar, amongst a lot of Hindustani shoes!

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  March 23rd – Captain E. S— has an estate in the Hills called Cloud End – a beautiful mountain of about sixty acres covered with oak trees. On this spot he had long wished to build a house and had prepared the plan but his duties as an engineer prevented his being long enough at a time in the Hills to accomplish the object. I offered to superintend the work during his absence, if he would mark out the foundations: a morning’s ride brought us to his estate situated between a hill called the ‘Park’ and Ben Oge, with Bhadráj to the west; the situation beautiful – the hills magnificent and well-wooded. Having fixed on the spot for the house – the drawing-room windows face a noble view of the Snowy Ranges – the next things was to mark a pathway to be cut into the khud, a descent of two miles for the mules to bring up water.

  The plan of the house was then marked out and a site was selected for my hill-tent commanding a view of the Himalayas. This little tent was made to order at Fatehgar – it is twelve feet square, has walls four feet high and two doors. A storm wall is to be built around it, a chimney at one end and a glass door at the other; a thatch will be placed over it and this will be my habitation when I go to Cloud End or when I make excursions into the Hills; my kitchen will be an old oak tree.. The Hills are so steep a single-pole tent of the usual size can be pitched in very few places. Under an old oak, on a rock covered with wild flowers, I sat and enjoyed the scene; the valley of the Doon lay stretched before me and the Hills around me. There is a rhododendron tree on this estate that bears white flowers – it is a great rarity and highly prized – all the flowers of the other rhododendron trees are a magnificent crimson. The Hill-men are fond of sucking the juice from the petals which it is said possess an intoxicating quality.

  Stormy-looking clouds were rolling up from the valley towards the Hills: returning home, we were caught in as fine a storm as I almost ever beheld; it was a glorious sight – the forked lightning was superb, the thunder resounded from hill to hill, the hail and rain fell heavily: for about two hours the storm raged. We took shelter in a Europe shop; towards night it decreased; wrapped in black blankets, which we procured from the bazaar, we got home in safety; the rain could not penetrate the black blankets, the wool of which is so oily. The storm raged with violence during the night, but I heard it not: in the morning the hilltops were covered with snow: at seven o’clock the thermometer was 38° in the verandah; in the room at noon with a fire it stood at 57°.

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  CHAPTER L

  PICTURESQUE SCENES IN THE HILLS

  APRIL 17TH 1838 – Started on my gūnth, the day being cloudy and cold, to make a call some miles off down the hill, at Jerrīpānī. The elevation of Jerrīpānī is much less than that of Landowr and the difference in the vegetation remarkable: here, the young leaves of the oaks are just budding – there, they are in full leaf; here, the raspberry is in flower – there, in fruit.

  The clematis, the favoured flower,

  That boasts the name of Virgin’s Bower,

  was at Jerrīpānī in beautiful profusion, sometimes hanging its white clusters over the yellow flowers of the barbery. The woodbine delighted me with its fragrance, and the remembrance of days of old; and the rhododendron trees were in full grandeur. Near one clump of old oaks, covered with moss and ivy, I stopped to listen to the shrill cries of the cicala, a sort of transparently-winged beetle: the sounds are like what we might fancy the notes would be of birds gone crazy.

  The shrill cicalas, people of the pine –

  Making their summer lives one ceaseless song,

  Were the sole echoes, save my steed’s and mine.

  The road was remarkably picturesque, the wind high and cold – a delightful breeze, the sky cloudy, and the scenery beautiful: I enjoyed a charming ride, returned home laden with wild flowers, and found amusement for some hours comparing them with Loudon’s Ency
clopedia. A pony that was grazing on the side of Landowr close to my house fell down the precipice and was instantly killed: my ayah came to tell me that the privates of the 16th Lancers and of the Buffs ate horseflesh, for she had seen one of them bring up a quantity of the pony’s flesh in a towel – I ventured to observe, the man might have dogs to feed.

  View from the Pilgrim’s Banglā

  April 19th – The view from the verandah of my banglā or house is very beautiful: directly beneath it is a precipice; opposite is that part of the hill of Landowr on which stands the sanatorium for the military, at present occupied by the invalids of the 16th Lancers and of the Buffs. The hill is covered with grass and the wild potato grows there in profusion; beyond is a high steep rock, which can only be ascended by a very precipitous path on one side of it; it is crowned by a house called Lall Tība, and is covered with oak and rhododendron trees. Below, surrounded with trees, stands the house of Mr Connolly; and beyond that, in the distance, are the snow-covered mountains of the lower range of the Himalaya. The road – if the narrow pathway, three feet in breadth, may deserve so dignified an appellation – is to the right, on the edge of a precipice, and on the other side is the perpendicular rock out of which it has been cut. This morning I heard an outcry and ran to see what had happened; just below, and directly in front of my house, an accident had occurred: an officer of the Buffs had sent a valuable horse down the hill, in charge of his groom; they met some mules laden with water-bags where the path was narrow, the bank perpendicular on the one side, and the precipice on the other; the groom led the horse on the side of the precipice, he kicked at the mules, his feet descended over the edge of the road, and down he went – a dreadful fall, a horrible crash; the animal was dead ere he reached a spot where a tree stopped his further descent: the precipice is almost perpendicular.