Monday, Dec. 17th, 1838.
The Maharajah asked G. to go with him on Sunday afternoon to look at his
fort of Govindghur, in which he keeps all his treasures; and it is
certain that whoever gets hold of Govindghur at his death will also get
hold of his kingdom. He never allows anybody to enter it, and E. says,
that in all the thirteen years he has been with him he has never been
able to get a sight of it, and he was convinced that Runjeet would
either pretend to be ill, or to make some mistake in the hour, so that
he would not really show G. even the outside of it. It _was_ rather late
before Kurruck Singh came to fetch G.; however, they soon met the
Maharajah, and went towards the fort. An officer came to ask his
'hookum,' or orders, and he told him to have the gates opened, and
desired G. to take in all the officers of his escort, even any
engineers. Then he led him all over the fort, showed him where the
treasure was kept, took him up to the roof, where there was a carpet
spread, and two gold chairs, and there sat and asked questions about
cannons and shells, and mines, and forts in general. The Europeans were
all amazed; but they say the surprise of Runjeet's own sirdars was past
all concealment; even the common soldiers began talking to B. about it,
and said that they now saw that the Sikhs and English were 'to be all
one family, and to live in the same house.' It certainly is very odd how
completely the suspicious old man seems to have conquered any feeling of
jealousy, and it is entirely his own doing, against the wishes and plans
of his prime ministers, and of most of his sirdars; but he has taken his
own line, and says he is determined to show how complete his confidence
is.
Whenever he dies, this great kingdom, which he has raked together, will
probably fall to pieces again. His prime minister, Dhian Singh, will
probably take Cashmere and the hill provinces, and, they say, is strong
enough to take all the rest. But the people generally incline to the
foolish son Kurruck Singh, and he will have the Punjâb. The army is
attached to our dear friend Shere Singh; but Runjeet has deprived him of
most of his income, or it is just possible his dear fat head will be
chopped off, unless he crosses to our side of the river.
Wednesday, Dec. 19th.
We marched yesterday from Umritzir, and are to make four marches to
Lahore.
The maids were quite delighted with an adventure they had in the
morning's march. Several mounted soldiers stopped their elephant, and
said that Shere Singh's wife wanted to see them. She came up in a
dhoolie covered with gold curtains, in which there was a slit, through
which she protruded one finger and then presented an eye. After a long
study of Jones, she told her bearers to carry her round to the other
side of the elephant, and desired Wright to put up her veil, that she
might have a good look at her. Then she told them that she had never
seen any white women before, and that they must come to her tent. An
hour after breakfast one of her guards arrived and carried off the
hirkaru who had been with the maids, and took him to Shere Singh's camp,
where the lady spoke to him from behind the purdah, and said she must
have a visit from the maids, and that she was going to take a bath and
dress herself, and then they were to come. I wrote to Major E. for his
advice, and he made all the necessary enquiries, but unluckily
ascertained that this was not one of the four legitimate Mrs. Sheres,
who are visitable, and indeed the most exemplary wives in the world.
This woman is all very well in her way, and for many years has been the
reigning favourite, but he thought they had better not go to see her.
The difficulty was to make an excuse, as she is always accustomed to
have her own way, but G. managed it somehow. I was rather sorry he was
so prudish, for it would have been a great treat for the maids, and
something quite new. Shere Singh and his boy dined with us. He made a
long whispered confidence to Mr. A. in the evening, and then went off to
the other table, that Mr. A. might whisper it to me, and it was to the
effect that his wife (that improper word natives cannot bear to mention)
had heard from her little boy that we had been kind to him, and was
longing to see us, and had prepared presents for us; and he hoped we
would go to his palace at Lahore.
Shalimar, Thursday, Dec. 20th.
Shalimar is the garden where Dr. D. and W. lived when they suffered so
much from heat last year. We are encamped close by it. I believe it is
the real Shalimar where Lalla Rookh recognised Feramorz, but we do not
happen to have a 'Lalla Rookh' at hand. Shere Singh came to my tent to
sit for his picture--such a gorgeous figure! all over diamonds and
emeralds; and as it was a first private visit, he brought a bag of
rupees, which he waved round and threw on the ground, and of which it is
indelicate to take the least notice. It is still more indelicate taking
them at all, I think, but it cannot be helped. He made a very good
picture. He was extremely curious about the arrangement of our tents,
and poked about, looking into every book and box; and as he went away,
he made A. and W. take him round to F.'s tent to look at everything
there. I believe nothing can equal the shock it is to the Sikhs in
general to see F. and me going about in this way. They come in crowds to
ask for an explanation from the native servants. It is unpleasant being
considered so disreputable; but 'conscious worth, patient merit,' and
all that sort of thing, serve to keep us up, to say nothing of not
understanding what they say. F. and I went to sketch in the gardens in
the afternoon. They are a thick grove of orange and limes, so that they
are cool at all times. G. settled that he would go too and take a quiet
walk and look about him, with only an aide-de-camp. Deluded creature!
Inexperienced traveller! The instant he got on his elephant, bang went a
gun. Shere Singh and Lehna Singh with their trains appeared, a troop of
Sikhs wheeled up and began playing 'God save the Queen,' with every
other bar left out, which makes rather a pretty air. Mr. C. was sent for
to interpret. His lordship went on to the gardens, where we saw him
debark, and a train of devoted gardeners met him with baskets of fruit.
We made him a sign not to come and interrupt our sketching, but from the
opposite walk there debouched Kurruck Singh, and Ajeet Singh, and the
old fakeer, sent by Runjeet to see that all was right. The brothers
Kurruck and Shere don't speak, and G. said it was horrible to see the
agitation with which Shere Singh clutched hold of him, and Kurruck laid
hold of the other hand, and they handed him along towards us,
oversetting our tonjauns, and utterly discomposing our perspective. G.
bears a real ceremony beautifully when he has made up his mind to it,
and indeed rather likes it; but when he has made up his mind the other
way, and wishes to see any curious sight quietly, he becomes frantic
with bore if he is interrupted.
Lahore, Friday, Dec. 21.
Yesterday evening Runjeet gave us a party in the Shalimar Gardens, which
were illuminated in every direction. The party was like all the others,
except that it was less crowded, and there was an introduction of
Afghans. The brother of our enemy Dost Mahomed, who is not fettered by
foolish feelings of family affection, has come over to us. He and his
sons and followers were rather picturesque, with their enormous coarse
turbans and cloth gaberdines, and great jack-boots, amongst all those
jewelled Sikhs. Runjeet was extremely civil to them. I thought one of
the amusing incidents of the evening would be, that I should topple over
backwards, chair and all, into the garden below the sort of open
summer-house in which we were sitting. Runjeet is particular in the
arrangement of his circle--and also rather peculiar. He and G. were
seated just in a corner of the open arch, so as to have a side view of
the fireworks, and my chair was put next to Runjeet's in the middle of
the arch, with no ledge to the floor and my back to the garden. I moved
off, on pretence that I could see nothing, but he sent for me back
again, and I think must have been disappointed at the precision with
which I sat bolt upright. I always try to flirt a little with Kurruck
Singh, the heir-apparent, who is supposed to be a goose, but 'a great
_parti_,' as C. would say; but I think the Maharajah sees through me,
for he always says to C., 'What's that?' and then answers for his son. I
wish he would not--I think my Kurruck would be pleasant, if they ever
let him open his lips. I asked him if he had ever tasted any English
wine, and he said he never drank any wine at all, upon which Runjeet
immediately gave him his own little glass full of spirits, and laughed
with the greatest delight at his son's taking it. F. and I came away
very early.
Most of the camp came in procession with G. and the Maharajah through
the town, which F. says was very dirty and not odoriferous. Runjeet led
them in and out and round about for two hours. I cannot stand much
elephant, so I came across the country in the tonjaun, with Captain E.
and Mr. A., who rode. The Sikh guards led us right through the fields,
where there was no shade, but it was rather nice, and gave one a
reminiscence of Shottesbrooke and partridge shooting. We saw in the
distance the dust of our moving camp, and blessed ourselves. It was only
four miles by this route from one camp to the other. Of course, Shere
Singh and Pertâb came to dinner. The little boy is quite set on learning
English, and he says, in such a droll voice, 'Chance, sit up,' 'plate,'
'glass,' and a few other words he has picked up. To fill up the
evenings, we have taught him that game of soldiers by making round dots
on a piece of paper, which he and W. play at; and before dessert was
over, he asked whether it was not time to go into the next room. He
wanted to kill Dost Mahomed with his pencil.
Heera Singh, Runjeet's favourite, came to my tent to sit for his
picture, but there was some difficulty about his coming, so he arrived
late, and it was too dark to draw him well. Runjeet sent word that he
considered him 'his best-beloved son,' and hoped somebody of
consideration would be sent to fetch him. Dhian Singh, the prime
minister, and the ruler of one-third of the Punjâb, was coming at the
same time to see G. in a private manner. He is Heera Singh's father, but
Runjeet sent 'the best-beloved son' with quantities of elephants, and
two regiments, to take care of him, while Dhian Singh came on horseback,
with only four soldiers riding behind him. He is a very striking-looking
man, and his manners are much more pleasing than his son's.
Sunday, Dec. 23.
We went yesterday afternoon to a review of Runjeet's goocherras. His
grandson, Noor Nahal, my friend Kurruck's son, and the probable heir,
was there. He very nearly died of cholera ten days ago, so we had not
seen him. Runjeet treated him with great distinction. He was very
interesting-looking, like young Lord E., with enormous black eyes, very
sallow, as all Sikh natives are, and he was propped up with cushions and
covered with jewels. He was very popular a year ago, but they say has
turned out ill since he has been his own master.
The first show of the day was Runjeet's private stud. I suppose fifty
horses were led past us. The first had on its emerald trappings,
necklaces arranged on its neck and between its ears, and in front of the
saddle two enormous emeralds, nearly two inches square, carved all over,
and set in gold frames, like little looking-glasses. The crupper was all
emeralds, and there were stud-ropes of gold put on something like a
martingale. Heera Singh said the whole was valued at 37 lacs
(370,000_l._); but all these valuations are fanciful, as nobody knows
the worth of these enormous stones; they are never bought or sold. The
next horse was simply attired in diamonds and turquoises, another in
pearls, and there was one with trappings of coral and pearl that was
very pretty. Their saddle-cloths have stones woven into them. It reduces
European magnificence to a very low pitch.
Runjeet has got a fit of curiosity about our religion, from our having
declined engagements for Sundays and for Christmas-day; and he has sent
the fakeer twice to Mr. Y. to say he wants to have translations of what
it is, he says to the Lord Sahib every Sunday; and to-day, after the
review, he stopped Mr. Y. and asked him a great many questions about our
prayers, &c.
The review was picturesque, but rather tiresome; however, I did not much
care, for I changed places with E., and got a quiet corner from which I
could sketch Runjeet. I was on his blind side, but they said he found it
out, and begged I might not be interrupted. One of his native painters
was sketching G., and if my drawing looked as odd to him as his did to
me, he must have formed a mean idea of the arts in England. They put
full eyes into a profile, and give hardly any shade. They paint their
own people with European complexions, from coxcombry, so that ours are a
great puzzle to them, because we are so white. They had given G. light
red hair. I made a great addition to my stock of curiosities yesterday
in an agate dagger and cup, and I had a great miss this morning of some
trays and cups japanned in Cashmere. A man brought them to my tent, and
I would not buy them because it was Sunday; upon which W. O., who does
not keep the Sunday so well as I do, immediately snapped them up. This
place is full of Cashmerees. G., and the camp in general, went across
the river to see the ruins of Noorjhem's tomb. I went with X. to an
enamelled mosque in the city, which must have been splendid in the
Mussulman days, but the Sikhs keep up nothing of that sort. However, it
is still very beautiful, and would have been charming sketching, but the
crowd was so enormous the guards were of no use. It is not an uncivil
crowd, all things considered--we merely threw them one and all into
genuine fits of laughter; but X., who understands their language, says
they did not say anything meant for impertinence, only they had never
seen a European woman before, and 'what an odd thing it was to be so
white!' And then my Leghorn bonnet was a great subject of wonder and
dispute.