Books: Himalayan Journals (Complete)

J >> J. D. Hooker >> Himalayan Journals (Complete)

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50 | 51 | 52 | 53 | 54 | 55 | 56 | 57 | 58 | 59 | 60 | 61 | 62 | 63 | 64 | 65 | 66 | 67 | 68 | 69 | 70 | 71

From 1817 to 1828 no notice was taken of Sikkim, till a frontier
dispute occurred between the Lepchas and Nepalese, which was referred
(according to the terms of the treaty) to the British Government.
During the arrangement of this, Dorjiling was visited by a gentleman
of high scientific attainments, Mr. J. W. Grant, who pointed out its
eligibility as a site for a Sanatarium to Lord William Bentinck, then
Governor-General; dwelling especially upon its climate, proximity to
Calcutta, and accessibility; on its central position between Tibet,
Bhotan, Nepal, and British India; and on the good example a
peaceably-conducted and well-governed station would be to our
turbulent neighbours in that quarter. The suggestion was cordially
received, and Major Herbert (the late eminent Surveyor-General of
India) and Mr. Grant were employed to report further on the subject.

The next step taken was that of requesting the Rajah to cede a tract
of country which should include Dorjiling, for an equivalent in money
or land. His first demand was unreasonable; but on further
consideration he surrendered Dorjiling unconditionally, and a sum of
300 pounds per annum was granted to him as an equivalent for what was
then a worthless uninhabited mountain. In 1840 Dr. Campbell was
removed from Nepal as superintendent of the new station, and was
entrusted with the charge of the political relations between the
British and Sikkim government.

Once established, Dorjiling rapidly increased. Allotments of land
were purchased by Europeans for building dwelling-houses; barracks
and a bazaar were formed, with accommodation for invalid European
soldiers; a few official residents, civil and military, formed the
nucleus of a community, which was increased by retired officers and
their families, and by temporary visitors in search of health, or the
luxury of a cool climate and active exercise.

For the first few years matters went on smoothly with the Rajah,
whose minister (or Dewan) was upright and intelligent: but the
latter, on his death, was succeeded by the present Dewan, a Tibetan,
and a relative of the Ranee (or Rajah's wife); a man unsurpassed for
insolence and avarice, whose aim was to monopolise the trade of the
country, and to enrich himself at its expense. Every obstacle was
thrown by him in the way of a good understanding between Sikkim and
the British government. British subjects were rigorously excluded
from Sikkim; every liberal offer for free trade and intercourse was
rejected, generally with insolence; merchandise was taxed, and
notorious offenders, refugees from the British territories, were
harboured; despatches were detained; and the Vakeels, or Rajah's
representatives, were chosen for their insolence and incapacity.
The conduct of the Dewan throughout was Indo-Chinese; assuming,
insolent, aggressive, never perpetrating open violence, but by petty
insults effectually preventing all good understanding. He was met by
neglect or forbearance on the part of the Calcutta government; and by
patience and passive resistance at Dorjiling. Our inaction and
long-suffering were taken for weakness, and our concessions for
timidity. Such has been our policy in China, Siam, and Burmah, and in
each instance the result has been the same. Had it been insisted that
the terms of the treaty should be strictly kept, and had the first
act of insolence been noticed, we should have maintained the best
relations with Sikkim, whose people and rulers (with the exception of
the Dewan and his faction) have proved themselves friendly
throughout, and most anxious for unrestricted communication.

These political matters have not, however, prevented the rapid
increase of Dorjiling; the progress of which, during the two years I
spent in Sikkim, resembled that of an Australian colony, not only in
amount of building, but in the accession of native families from the
surrounding countries. There were not a hundred inhabitants under
British protection when the ground was transferred; there are now
four thousand. At the former period there was no trade whatever;
there is now a very considerable one, in musk, salt, gold-dust,
borax, soda, woollen cloths, and especially in poneys, of which the
Dewan in one year brought on his own account upwards of 50 into
Dorjiling.* [The Tibetan pony, though born and bred 10,000 to 14,000
feet above the sea, is one of the most active and useful animals in
the plains of Bengal, powerful and hardy, and when well trained
early, docile, although by nature vicious and obstinate.] The trade
has been greatly increased by the annual fair which Dr. Campbell has
established at the foot of the hills, to which many thousands of
natives flock from all quarters, and which exercises a most
beneficial influence throughout the neighbouring territories.
At this, prizes (in medals, money, and kind) are given for
agricultural implements and produce, stock, etc., by the originator
and a few friends; a measure attended with eminent success.

In estimating in a sanitory point of view the value of any
health-station, little reliance can be placed on the general
impressions of invalids, or even of residents; the opinion of each
varies with the nature and state of his complaint, if ill, or with
his idiosyncracy and disposition, if well. I have seen prejudiced
invalids rapidly recovering, in spite of themselves, and all the
while complaining in unmeasured terms of the climate of Dorjiling,
and abusing it as killing them. Others are known who languish under
the heat of the plains at one season, and the damp at another; and
who, though sickening and dying under its influence, yet consistently
praise a tropical climate to the last. The opinions of those who
resort to Dorjiling in health, differ equally; those of active minds
invariably thoroughly enjoy it, while the mere lounger or sportsman
mopes. The statistical tables afford conclusive proofs of the value
of the climate to Europeans suffering from acute diseases, and they
are corroborated by the returns of the medical officer in charge of
the station. With respect to its suitability to the European
constitution I feel satisfied, and that much saving of life, health,
and money would be effected were European troops drafted thither on
their arrival in Bengal, instead of being stationed in Calcutta,
exposed to disease, and temptation to those vices which prove fatal
to so many hundreds. This, I have been given to understand, was the
view originally taken by the Court of Directors, but it has never
been carried out.

I believe that children's faces afford as good an index as any to the
healthfulness of a climate, and in no part of the world is there a
more active, rosy, and bright young community, than at Dorjiling.
It is incredible what a few weeks of that mountain air does for the
India-born children of European parents: they are taken there sickly,
pallid or yellow, soft and flabby, to become transformed into models
of rude health and activity.

There are, however, disorders to which the climate (in common with
all damp ones) is not at all suited; such are especially dysentery,
bowel complaints, and liver complaints of long standing; which are
not benefited by a residence on these hills, though how much worse
they might have become in the plains is not shown. I cannot hear that
the climate aggravates, but it certainly does not remove them.
Whoever is suffering from the debilitating effects of any of the
multifarious acute maladies of the plains, finds instant relief, and
acquires a stock of health that enables him to resist fresh attacks,
under circumstances similar to those which before engendered them.

Natives of the low country, and especially Bengalees, are far from
enjoying the climate as Europeans do, being liable to sharp attacks
of fever and ague, from which the poorly clad natives are not exempt.
It is, however, difficult to estimate the effects of exposure upon
the Bengalees, who sleep on the bare and often damp ground, and
adhere, with characteristic prejudice, to the attire of a torrid
climate, and to a vegetable diet, under skies to which these are
least of all adapted.

It must not be supposed that Europeans who have resided in the plains
can, on their first arrival, expose themselves with impunity to the
cold of these elevations; this was shown in the winter of 1848 and
1849, when troops brought up to Dorjiling were cantoned in
newly-built dwellings, on a high exposed ridge 8000 feet above the
sea, and lay, insufficiently protected, on a floor of loosely laid
planks, exposed to the cold wind, when the ground without was covered
with snow. Rheumatisms, sharp febrile attacks, and dysenteries
ensued, which were attributed in the public prints to the unhealthy
nature of the climate of Dorjiling.

The following summary of hospital admissions affords the best test of
the healthiness of the climate, embracing, as the period does, the
three most fatal months to European troops in India. Out of a
detachment (105 strong) of H.M. 80th Regiment stationed at Dorjiling,
in the seven months from January to July inclusive, there were
sixty-four admissions to the hospital, or, on the average, 4-1/3 per
cent. per month; and only two deaths, both of dysentery. Many of
these men had suffered frequently in the plains from acute dysentery
and hepatic affections, and many others had aggravated these
complaints by excessive drinking, and two were cases of delirium
tremens. During the same period, the number of entries at Calcutta or
Dinapore would probably have more than trebled this.

CHAPTER V.

View from Mr. Hodgson's of range of snowy mountains -- Their extent
and elevation -- Delusive appearance of elevation -- Sinchul, view
from and vegetation of -- Chumulari -- Magnolias, white and purple --
Rhododendron Dalhousiae, arboreum and argenteum -- Natives of
Dorjiling -- Lepchas, origin, tradition of flood, morals, dress,
arms, ornaments, diet -- cups, origin and value -- Marriages --
Diseases -- Burial -- Worship and religion -- Bijooas -- Kampa Rong,
or Arratt -- Limboos, origin, habits, language, etc. -- Moormis --
Magras -- Mechis -- Comparison of customs with those of the natives
of Assam, Khasia, etc.

The summer, or rainy season of 1848, was passed at or near Dorjiling,
during which period I chiefly occupied myself in forming collections,
and in taking meteorological observations. I resided at Mr Hodgson's
for the greater part of the time, in consequence of his having given
me a hospitable invitation to consider his house my home. The view
from his windows is one quite unparalleled for the scenery it
embraces, commanding confessedly the grandest known landscape of
snowy mountains in the Himalaya, and hence in the world.* [For an
account of the geography of these regions, and the relation of the
Sikkim Himalaya to Tibet, etc., see Appendix.] Kinchinjunga
(forty-five miles distant) is the prominent object, rising 21,000
feet above the level of the observer out of a sea of intervening
wooded hills; whilst, on a line with its snows, the eye descends
below the horizon, to a narrow gulf 7000 feet deep in the mountains,
where the Great Rungeet, white with foam, threads a tropical forest
with a silver line.

To the north-west towards Nepal, the snowy peaks of Kubra and Junnoo
(respectively 24,005 feet and 25,312 feet) rise over the shoulder of
Singalelah; whilst eastward the snowy mountains appear to form an
unbroken range, trending north-east to the great mass of Donkia
(23,176 feet) and thence south-east by the fingered peaks of Tunkola
and the silver cone of Chola, (17,320 feet) gradually sinking into
the Bhotan mountains at Gipmoochi (14,509 feet).

The most eloquent descriptions I have read fail to convey to my
mind's eye the forms and colours of snowy mountains, or to my
imagination the sensations and impressions that rivet my attention to
these sublime phenomena when they are present in reality; and I shall
not therefore obtrude any attempt of the kind upon my reader.
The latter has probably seen the Swiss Alps, which, though barely
possessing half the sublimity, extent, or height of the Himalaya, are
yet far more beautiful. In either case he is struck with the
precision and sharpness of their outlines, and still more with the
wonderful play of colours on their snowy flanks, from the glowing
hues reflected in orange, gold and ruby, from clouds illumined by the
sinking or rising sun, to the ghastly pallor that succeeds with
twilight, when the red seems to give place to its complementary
colour green. Such dissolving-views elude all attempts at
description, they are far too aerial to be chained to the memory, and
fade from it so fast as to be gazed upon day after day, with
undiminished admiration and pleasure, long after the mountains
themselves have lost their sublimity and apparent height.

The actual extent of the snowy range seen from Mr. Hodgson's windows
is comprised within an arc of 80 degrees (from north 30 degrees west
to north 50 degrees east), or nearly a quarter of the horizon, along
which the perpetual snow forms an unbroken girdle or crest of frosted
silver; and in winter, when the mountains are covered down to 8000
feet, this white ridge stretches uninterruptedly for more than 160
degrees. No known view is to be compared with this in extent, when
the proximity and height of the mountains are considered; for within
the 80 degrees above mentioned more than twelve peaks rise above
20,000 feet, and there are none below 15,000 feet, while Kinchin is
28,178, and seven others above 22,000. The nearest perpetual snow is
on Nursing, a beautifully sharp conical peak 19,139 feet high, and
thirty-two miles distant; the most remote mountain seen is Donkia,
23,176 feet high, and seventy-three miles distant; whilst Kinchin,
which forms the principal mass both for height and bulk, is exactly
forty-five miles distant.

On first viewing this glorious panorama, the impression produced on
the imagination by their prodigious elevation is, that the peaks
tower in the air and pierce the clouds, and such are the terms
generally used in descriptions of similar alpine scenery; but the
observer, if he look again, will find that even the most stupendous
occupy a very low position on the horizon, the top of Kinchin itself
measuring only 4 degrees 31 minutes above the level of the observer!
Donkia again, which is 23,176 feet above the sea, or about 15,700
above Mr. Hodgson's, rises only 1 degrees 55 minutes above the
horizon; an angle which is quite inappreciable to the eye, when
unaided by instruments.* [These are the apparent angles which I took
from Mr. Hodgson's house (alt. 7300 feet) with an excellent
theodolite, no deduction being made for refraction.]

This view may be extended a little by ascending Sinchul, which rises
a thousand feet above the elevation of Mr. Hodgson's house, and is a
few miles south-east of Dorjiling: from its summit Chumulari (23,929
feet) is seen to the north-east, at eighty-four miles distance,
rearing its head as a great rounded mass over the snowy Chola range,
out of which it appears to rise, although in reality lying forty
miles beyond;--so deceptive is the perspective of snowy mountains.
To the north-west again, at upwards of 100 miles distance, a
beautiful group of snowy mountains rises above the black Singalelah
range, the chief being, perhaps, as high as Kinchinjunga, from which
it is fully eighty miles distant to the westward; and between them no
mountain of considerable altitude intervenes; the Nepalese Himalaya
in that direction sinking remarkably towards the Arun river, which
there enters Nepal from Tibet.

The top of Sinchul is a favourite excursion from Dorjiling, being
very easy of access, and the path abounding in rare and beautiful
plants, and passing through magnificent forests of oak, magnolia, and
rhododendron; while the summit, besides embracing this splendid view
of the snowy range over the Dorjiling spur in the foreground,
commands also the plains of India, with the courses of the Teesta,
Mahanuddee, Balasun and Mechi rivers. In the months of April and May,
when the magnolias and rhododendrons are in blossom, the gorgeous
vegetation is, in some respects, not to be surpassed by anything in
the tropics; but the effect is much marred by the prevailing gloom of
the weather. The white-flowered magnolia (_M. excelsa,_ Wall,) forms
a predominant tree at 7000 to 8000 feet; and in 1848 it blossomed so
profusely, that the forests on the broad flanks of Sinchul, and other
mountains of that elevation, appeared as if sprinkled with snow.
The purple-flowered kind again (_M. Campbellii_) hardly occurs below
8000 feet, and forms an immense, but very ugly, black-barked,
sparingly branched tree, leafless in winter and also during the
flowering season, when it puts forth from the ends of its branches
great rose-purple cup-shaped flowers, whose fleshy petals strew the
ground. On its branches, and on those of oaks and laurels,
_Rhododendron Dalhousiae_ grows epiphytically, a slender shrub,
bearing from three to six white lemon-scented bells, four and a half
inches long and as many broad, at the end of each branch. In the same
woods the scarlet rhododendron (_R. arboreum_) is very scarce, and is
outvied by the great _R. argenteum,_ which grows as a tree forty feet
high, with magnificent leaves twelve to fifteen inches long, deep
green, wrinkled above and silvery below, while the flowers are as
large as those of _R. Dalhousiae,_ and grow more in a cluster. I know
nothing of the kind that exceeds in beauty the flowering branch of
_R. argenteum,_ with its wide spreading foliage and glorious mass
of flowers.

Oaks, laurels, maples, birch, chesnut, hydrangea, a species of fig
(which is found on the very summit), and three Chinese and Japanese
genera, are the principal features of the forest; the common bushes
being _Aucuba, Skimmia,_ and the curious _Helwingia,_ which bears
little clusters of flowers on the centre of the leaf, like
butcher's-broom. In spring immense broad-leaved arums spring up, with
green or purple-striped hoods, that end in tail-like threads,
eighteen inches long, which lie along the ground; and there are
various kinds of _Convallaria, Paris, Begonia,_ and other beautiful
flowering herbs. Nearly thirty ferns may be gathered on this
excursion, including many of great beauty and rarity, but the
tree-fern does not ascend so high. Grasses are very rare in these
woods, excepting the dwarf bamboo, now cultivated in the open air
in England.

Before proceeding to narrate my different expeditions into Sikkim and
Nepal from Dorjiling, I shall give a sketch of the different peoples
and races composing the heterogeneous population of Sikkim and the
neighbouring mountains.

The Lepcha is the aboriginal inhabitant of Sikkim, and the prominent
character in Dorjiling, where he undertakes all sorts of out-door
employment. The race to which he belongs is a very singular one;
markedly Mongolian in features, and a good deal too, by imitation, in
habit; still he differs from his Tibetan prototype, though not so
decidedly as from the Nepalese and Bhotanese, between whom he is
hemmed into a narrow tract of mountain country, barely 60 miles in
breadth. The Lepchas possess a tradition of the flood, during which a
couple escaped to the top of a mountain (Tendong) near Dorjiling.
The earliest traditions which they have of their history date no
further back than some three hundred years, when they describe
themselves as having been long-haired, half-clad savages. At about
that period they were visited by Tibetans, who introduced Boodh
worship, the platting of their hair into pig-tails, and very many of
their own customs. Their physiognomy is however so Tibetan in its
character, that it cannot be supposed that this was their earliest
intercourse with the trans-nivean races: whether they may have
wandered from beyond the snows before the spread of Boodhism and its
civilisation, or whether they are a cross between the Tamulian of
India and the Tibetan, has not been decided. Their language, though
radically identical with Tibetan, differs from it in many important
particulars. They, or at least some of their tribes, call themselves
Rong, and Arratt, and their country Dijong: they once possessed a
great part of East Nepal, as far west as the Tambur river, and at a
still earlier period they penetrated as far west as the Arun river.

An attentive examination of the Lepcha in one respect entirely
contradicts our preconceived notions of a mountaineer, as he is
timid, peaceful, and no brawler; qualities which are all the more
remarkable from contrasting so strongly with those of his neighbours
to the east and west: of whom the Ghorkas are brave and warlike to a
proverb, and the Bhotanese quarrelsome, cowardly, and cruel. A group
of Lepchas is exceedingly picturesque. They are of short
stature--four feet eight inches to five feet--rather broad in the
chest, and with muscular arms, but small hands and slender wrists.*
[I have seldom been able to insert my own wrist (which is smaller
than the average) into the wooden guard which the Lepcha wears on his
left, as a protection against the bow-string: it is a curved ring of
wood with an opening at one side, through which, by a little
stretching, the wrist is inserted.] The face is broad, flat, and of
eminently Tartar character, flat-nosed and oblique-eyed, with no
beard, and little moustache; the complexion is sallow, or often a
clear olive; the hair is collected into an immense tail, plaited flat
or round. The lower limbs are powerfully developed, befitting genuine
mountaineers: the feet are small. Though never really handsome, and
very womanish in the cast of countenance, they have invariably a
mild, frank, and even engaging expression, which I have in vain
sought to analyse, and which is perhaps due more to the absence of
anything unpleasing, than to the presence of direct grace or beauty.
In like manner, the girls are often very engaging to look upon,
though without one good feature they are all smiles and good-nature;
and the children are frank, lively, laughing urchins. The old women
are thorough hags. Indolence, when left to themselves, is their
besetting sin; they detest any fixed employment, and their foulness
of person and garments renders them disagreeable inmates: in this
rainy climate they are supportable out of doors. Though fond of
bathing when they come to a stream in hot weather, and expert, even
admirable swimmers, these people never take to the water for the
purpose of ablution. In disposition they are amiable and obliging,
frank, humorous, and polite, without the servility of the Hindoos; and
their address is free and unrestrained. Their intercourse with one
another and with Europeans is scrupulously honest; a present is
divided equally amongst many, without a syllable of discontent or
grudging look or word: each, on receiving his share, coming up and
giving the donor a brusque bow and thanks. They have learnt to
overcharge already, and use extortion in dealing, as is the custom
with the people of the plains; but it is clumsily done, and never
accompanied with the grasping air and insufferable whine of the
latter. They are constantly armed with a long, heavy, straight knife,*
[It is called "Ban," and serves equally for plough, toothpick,
table-knife, hatchet, hammer, and sword.] but never draw it on one
another: family and political feuds are alike unheard of amongst them.

Illustration -- LEPCHA GIRL AND BHOODIST LAMA.

The Lepcha is in morals far superior to his Tibet and Bhotan
neighbours, polyandry being unknown, and polygamy rare. This is no
doubt greatly due to the conventual system not being carried to such
an excess as in Bhotan, where the ties of relationship even
are disregarded.

Like the New Zealander, Tasmanian, Fuegian, and natives of other
climates, which, though cold, are moist and equable, the Lepcha's
dress is very scanty, and when we are wearing woollen under-garments
and hose, he is content with one cotton vesture, which is loosely
thrown round the body, leaving one or both arms free; it reaches to
the knee, and is gathered round the waist: its fabric is close, the
ground colour white, ornamented with longitudinal blue stripes, two
or three fingers broad, prettily worked with red and white. When new
and clean, this garb is remarkably handsome and gay, but not showy.
In cold weather an upper garment with loose sleeves is added. A long
knife, with a common wooden handle, hangs by the side, stuck in a
sheath; he has often also a quiver of poisoned arrows and a bamboo*
[The bamboo, of which the quiver is made, is thin and light: it is
brought from Assam, and called Tulda, or Dulwa, by the Bengalees.]
bow across his back. On his right wrist is a curious wooden guard for
the bowstring; and a little pouch, containing aconite poison and a
few common implements, is suspended to his girdle. A hat he seldom
wears, and when he does, it is often extravagantly broad and
flat-brimmed, with a small hemispherical crown. It is made of leaves
of _Scitamineae,_ between two thin plates of bamboo-work, clumsy and
heavy; this is generally used in the rainy weather, while in the dry
a conical one is worn, also of platted slips of bamboo, with broad
flakes of talc between the layers, and a peacock's feather at the
side. The umbrella consists of a large hood, much like the ancient
boat called a coracle, which being placed over the head reaches to
the thighs behind. It is made of platted bamboo, enclosing broad
leaves of _Phrynium._ A group of Lepchas with these on, running along
in the pelting rain, are very droll figures; they look like snails
with their shells on their backs. All the Lepchas are fond of
ornaments, wearing silver hoops in their ears, necklaces made of
cornelian, amber, and turquoise, brought from Tibet, and pearls and
corals from the south, with curious silver and golden charm-boxes or
amulets attached to their necks or arms. These are of Tibetan
workmanship, and often of great value: they contain little idols,
charms and written prayers, or the bones, hair, or nail-parings of a
Lama: some are of great beauty, and highly ornamented. In these
decorations, and in their hair, they take some pride, the ladies
frequently dressing the latter for the gentlemen: thus one may often
see, the last thing at night, a damsel of discreet port, demurely go
behind a young man, unplait his pig-tail, teaze the hair, thin it of
some of its lively inmates, braid it up for him, and retire.
The women always wear two braided pig-tails, and it is by this they
are most readily distinguished from their effeminate-looking
partners, who wear only one.* [Ermann (Travels in Siberia, ii. p.
204) mentions the Buraet women as wearing two tails, and fillets with
jewels, and the men as having one queue only.] When in full dress,
the woman's costume is extremely ornamental and picturesque; besides
the shirt and petticoat she wears a small sleeveless woollen cloak,
of gay pattern, usually covered with crosses, and fastened in front
by a girdle of silver chains. Her neck is loaded with silver chains,
amber necklaces, etc., and her head adorned with a coronet of scarlet
cloth, studded with seed-pearls, jewels, glass beads, etc. The common
dress is a long robe of indi, a cloth of coarse silk, spun from the
cocoon of a large caterpillar that is found wild at the foot of the
hills, and is also cultivated: it feeds on many different leaves, Sal
(_Shorea_), castor-oil, etc.