CROSS THE CHENAB AND RAVEE--ARRIVE AT LAHORE--LAHORE--CEREMONIAL
VISITS--REVIEW OF THE SIKH ARMY--RECROSS THE SUTLEJ--MARCH TO
CANTONMENTS.
Having thus floundered through the Jhelum, we had passed the boundary
of the Mussulmaun, and entered the Sikh division--i.e., the Punjaub.
The Punjaub is bounded on the north-west by the Jhelum river, and not
by the Attok, as usually marked in the charts. The five rivers, from
which it derives its name,[59] are the Sutlej, the Beeas, the Ravee,
the Chenab, and the Jhelum.
The country did not exhibit any sign of improvement until we neared
the Chenab, being mostly overgrown with long dry grass, not unlike
that which covers some of the prairies of America. But it cannot be a
matter of surprise, that the inhabitants should pay more attention to
war than agriculture; had it been otherwise, they would have sown only
for the hardy and warlike inhabitants of the neighbouring mountains.
A nation must be great in war ere it can hope to flourish in commerce
and agriculture, or the nest will surely be robbed ere the progeny
be full-grown and able to defend themselves--or rather, capable of
learning that useful art.
The cold of a winter's morning in India, though much less severe, of
course, than that of more northern latitudes, is still very smartly
felt on the line of march, for it is necessary to march in the morning,
to enable the cattle to go out and graze after their work is over.
Mounted on a charger, who is forbidden to deviate from a walk during
a morning's march of twelve or fifteen miles, with the feet in a
pair of heavy iron stirrups, and a keen blast driving the cold dust
through the half-frozen patient, is the daily lot of the soldier on a
winter's campaign in the East. With anxiety he looks forward through
the morning's gloom for the first peep of dawn; but no sooner has the
merciless sun attained a few degrees of elevation, than he exhibits
a fiery aspect which soon renders the shadow of a tree or a fold of
canvas by far the most interesting object in the view. Whilst the
European, clad in his tight and cumbersome costume and accoutrements,
toils wearily onward under the fiery noon-day heat on a long march,
the Asiatic warrior, divesting himself of a portion of his flowing
dress, twirls the light material round his head, and under its grateful
shadow encounters lightly and cheerfully the task which lies before
him. The graceful Oriental turban serves the invaluable purposes of
guarding the head from sun and cold, of defying the edge of the sabre,
and arresting the progress of a bullet; the European head-dress answers
no useful purpose: cannot the ingenuity of England's hatters suggest
some plausible scheme for defending the susceptible sculls of their
countrymen serving in India? Verily, if they cannot accomplish that
object, they deserve, and may they continue to enjoy, the imputation of
insanity.[60]
Five marches from the Jhelum brought us to the banks of the Chenab; of
the depth, rapidity, and means of transit over which, about as varied
and accurate reports had been received as were transmitted on our
arrival at the Jhelum.
On reaching the Chenab river, we encamped within a few yards of the
bank; and as the fortunate discovery was soon made that an abundance
of boats were in readiness, the greater part of the baggage was taken
across in them during the day, and next morning the regiment embarked.
The camels, when unloaded, as also the horses, with a native groom (or
"syce," as they are termed) on each, were enabled to cross at a ford,
about two miles down the river, which was more than four feet in depth.
These natives, being light weights and unencumbered with trappings--for
the saddles and all their weighty concomitants travelled in boats--took
the horses across the ford without any accident or difficulty. Nor was
there any risk in the experiment, for most Orientals swim soon after
they have learned to walk.
The country now assumed a much more cheerful and civilized appearance:
crops rose luxuriantly on each side of our line of march; and the
well-inhabited towns and villages told of an abundant, though not a
very wealthy[61] people, for the mud houses were little, if at all,
better than those of Hindostan.
Ofttimes, the massive and circular tomb of some Mussulman, now
falling fast to decay, (or in many instances, the ruthless hand of
time, having evidently been assisted by the unsparing jealousy of the
bigoted Sikhs,) glared upon us from out its gloomy and sepulchral
shade of banyans. Since the date which some of the buildings tried to
commemorate, the haughty Mussulman conqueror had yielded to the more
arrogant Sikh idolator, who must soon give place, in the inevitable
cycle of events, to a milder and more tolerant power.
These white and spectral monuments failed not in their object of
attracting observation, whilst the fretted and ostentatious carving
apprised us of the earthly resting-place of bones probably belonging
to some proud grandee, who had played his little part on the stage of
life, and whose deeds done in the flesh, though failing to rescue his
name from oblivion, had succeeded in earning a monument to become an
asylum of refuge for rats, owls, and jackdaws. This is as it should be,
when--
"Some proud son of man returns to earth,
Unknown to glory, but upheld by birth."
Since leaving Attok, we had been accompanied by an escort of Sikhs,
under Sirdar Lana Singh, who, it was expected, would have met the
commander-in-chief on the frontier with an invitation to visit
Maharajah Kurruk Singh (the reigning monarch of the country) at Lahore.
Lana Singh being vested with no such authority, our original route,
which lay through Lahore, was altered, and the force proceeded by a
road which left the capital about fifteen miles to the East.
With a nation so punctilious in points of etiquette as the Sikhs had
hitherto been, the fact of allowing the British forces to approach
within so short a distance of their capital, without sending a
deputation to wait on the commander-in-chief with an invitation to
their court, betokened a slight which told plainly the ambiguous
relations existing between the Lahore government and the British. The
most probable cause of this omission was, that both the authority and
intellect of Kurruk Singh being feeble, and the court itself in a
turbulent and unsettled state, the ministers were unwilling that the
British should be eye-witnesses of their present state of anarchy.
Dhian Singh, the prime minister, had always testified an aversion to
the British, even in the days of Runjeet, according to Mr. Prinsep's
account, and there is little doubt that this marked neglect was owing
to his suggestion. Had they valued, or wished to court our friendship,
as the old Lion of Lahore had ever done,[62] they would not have been
thus tardy with their invitation, or at least, they would have made
some apologies for the maharajah's inability, from ill-health or some
other invention, to be honoured with an interview.
On the present occasion, we had arrived within fifteen miles of
Lahore without any communication from the durbar, and at a small town
named Budee, when late in the afternoon a party deputed by the Sikh
government entered our camp, bringing the commander-in-chief the tardy
courtesy of a request to visit the capital. Instructions having been
received from the governor-general of India, conveying a desire that
Sir John Keane should, if possible, visit the maharajah, the scanty
ceremony was overlooked, and the commander-in-chief, escorted by the
16th Lancers, a troop of horse artillery, and a few native infantry,
diverged from the route, and proceeded next morning towards Lahore,
whilst the second column, under General Thackwell, continued their
route by the more direct road to Ferozepore.
Having made two marches over an uninteresting country, speckled with
patches of long dry grass and underwood, we arrived on the banks of
the Ravee, and encamped close to the walls of Jehangire's tomb.
The city of Lahore lay about four miles distant, stretched along some
gently rising ground on the opposite shore of the Ravee, but we could
barely discern its locality owing to the haziness of the atmosphere.
It was Christmas day, and decidedly the least merry one I can remember
having passed. The gloom rivalled that of London at this period of the
year; the clouds occasionally indulged us with a smart shower of rain,
which, under canvas, is the most uncomfortable weather imaginable,
especially when accompanied, as this was, by a piercing easterly
wind, which swelled in the folds of our tents, and defied all efforts
to exclude the noisy intruder. In the afternoon, the weather having
cleared up a little, I visited the Emperor Jehangire's tomb, in company
with a brother officer. We entered the extensive building by a gateway
leading into a large square court, the four sides of which were pierced
by a succession of small casements, each divided into two cells, which
would have made very comfortable quarters for a Dragoon and his horse.
Calculating on the probability of their being ere long devoted to some
such purpose, we found that the square would have well accommodated a
cavalry regiment at its full strength. Crossing this yard, we passed
under a lofty, arched gateway, and entered the gardens in which stood
the tomb of the Emperor: a massive square building, of about thirty
feet in relief, from the four angles of which rose the usual flanking
parties, lofty and handsomely carved minarets. In the interior, we
found nothing costly or worthy of note. On a platform of white marble
steps, in the centre, stood the sarcophagus, made of the same material,
whose sides had been chipped and defaced by the Sikhs, to exhibit their
magnanimous contempt for the deceased Mussulman potentate. On ascending
the exterior of the monument, we found the flat roof paved with stones
of various colours, which had a singular effect, the whole constituting
a pattern of great dimensions. As none of the stones were of any value,
and all pretty tightly fastened with cement, the natural indolence
of the Sikhs had saved this part of the structure from injury. On
ascending one of the minarets, whence an excellent view of Lahore may
be obtained on a clear day, we observed, at the further side of the
garden, a small conical tomb, built to the memory of the far-famed,
beautiful Nourmahal, wife of the Emperor Jehangire. Her pathetic and
marvellous history has formed a theme for many relaters of tales
throughout the east; but for the enlightenment of the few whose ears
they may not have reached, I will give a brief sketch of the adventures
assigned to her lot.
Nourmahal was the daughter of a ruined Tartar chief, and was born
in the desert between Tartary and Hindostan when her parents were
emigrating to the latter country. Overcome by weakness and fatigue on
the journey, they found themselves unable to carry on the infant, and
Nourmahal was left to perish where she was born. The mother, after
deserting her child, was so overpowered with grief as to be unable to
proceed, whereupon Aiass, the father, returned in search of the infant,
which he found encircled by a large black snake. The reptile fled
at his approach, and Aiass, finding to his surprise that the infant
was uninjured, brought it to the mother. A caravan, shortly after,
opportunely arrived, and relieved them from their distresses; and,
without difficulty, the whole party reached Lahore, which was then the
seat of government of the Moguls conjointly with Agra. Aiass having
found a relative amongst the Omrahs of the Emperor Akbar, obtained,
through that influence, a place in the household of the monarch, and
rose in time to wealth and distinction. His daughter, who was called
Mher el Nissa, (the sun of women,) possessed unequalled attractions of
beauty, and was also remarkable for wit and accomplishments--a rare
combination for an Eastern beauty.
Selim, the son of Akbar, being present at an entertainment given by
Aiass, was much attracted by Mher el Nissa's graceful figure and
voice; and the accomplished beauty, having _accidentally_ dropt her
veil, discovered to the happy prince such charms as had never before
shone upon the eyes of man. Poor Selim, who was as much in love (as
the Asiatics fictitiously term a passion of which they are ignorant)
as a prince could be, applied to the Emperor Akbar to obtain for him
the beautiful toy he had beheld. It was discovered that Mher el Nissa
was betrothed to the Omrah Sher Afken, a Turcoman noble, who might
be a dangerous enemy, and Akbar refused to employ harsh measures to
dissolve the contract. The disappointed prince was therefore compelled
to defer his passion and projects till a more convenient season, and
Mher el Nissa became the wife of Sher Afken. After the lapse of a few
years, when Selim had ascended the throne under the name of Jehangire,
Sher Afken left the court and retired to Burdwan. He was recalled
from thence by Jehangire to the court then held at Delhi, and the
monarch testified so much regard for the Turcoman chief, that he very
naturally concluded that all was sincere and disinterested on the part
of Jehangire.
At a royal tiger-hunt which took place, the noble beast was marked
down in the jungle, and Jehangire, knowing Sher Afken's character
for strength, personal courage, and love of adventure, demanded that
volunteers, to meet the tiger single-handed with a sword, should
present themselves; four came forward, Sher Afken amongst them, and,
whilst the others were contending for the precarious honour, the
Turcoman Omrah offered to face the tiger without a weapon. Jehangire,
with inward joy and outward reluctance, assented. Sher Afken advanced
to the lair, and man and beast rushed into each other's clutches. The
tiger made some use of his claws, and mangled his opponent; but he
had to do with a hero of romance and not a mere mortal, consequently
the complaisant beast submitted, and allowed himself to be strangled.
The fame of Sher Afken rose with this exploit; he recovered from his
wounds, and became much honoured by the people and petted by the
monarch, who had many similar adventures in store for him. An elephant
was sent to crush Sher Afken in his palanquin. The hero arose, and,
with one blow of a _short_ sword, cut the elephant's trunk asunder at
the root, and killed him on the spot. Forty hired assassins tried to
murder him during the night; he slew twenty, and generously allowed
the remainder to escape. Sher Afken seems at last to have discovered
that Mher el Nissa was the object of Jehangire's persecutions, and
as it is considered a foul stain on a man's honour in the East to
part with any of his wives, the troublesome husband retired with the
sun of women, to his private residence at Burdwan. The chief of that
Bengal province immediately received instructions to remove the modern
Uriah to a better world, and, approaching under the pretext of a tour
of inspection, but with a large retinue, the king's official visited
Sher Afken, who met him unattended. The royal party soon proceeded to
business; but Sher Afken having pulled down an elephant and castle,
slain the emperor's agent, and killed a nobleman at every blow, was at
last surrounded by archers and matchlock men, who galled him from a
distance. He did not condescend to fall before his horse was killed,
and six bullets, and arrows innumerable, had perforated his body;
then, discovering he was mortal, the gallant and devout Omrah turned
towards Mecca, threw sand on his head, and began to die. The soldiers
dared not approach until he was in his last agonies. The party then
hastened in search of Mher el Nissa, fearing that in the first outburst
of regret for her irreparable loss she might wish to accompany her
deceased husband to Heaven; but happily she was less overcome than they
expected, and appeared resigned to her fate, declaring it was entirely
out of regard to her husband, that he might be immortalized by his wife
becoming afterwards Empress of India, that she submitted to become
Jehangire's sultana.
On her arrival at Delhi, to her surprise and mortification, she found
that some caprice of Jehangire not only assigned her the most paltry
rooms in the seraglio, but left her to poverty and neglect. The emperor
did not even visit the woman for whom he had stained his name with
indelible crimes.
Mher el Nissa, with laudable indifference, amused herself with
embroideries, (in which art she excelled,) and her talents in this
humble occupation soon brought her name into notice. After four years
spent in this manner, it appears that curiosity weighed more with
Jehangire than boyish love, for he stole to the apartments of the
beautiful embroideress to witness her toil. The result is evident, for
none could look on this dangerous beauty unmoved. The next day, the
Emperor Jehangire celebrated his nuptials with Mher el Nissa, under
the title of Nourmahal, (the Light of the Harem,) which was afterwards
changed to the more dignified and affectionate title of Sultana Noor
Jehan. The sultana continued to enjoy her husband's confidence, and
forms one of the few instances in Eastern history of a queen being
acknowledged more powerful than her lord.
By her influence, her father became prime vizier, and was renowned
for his virtue and abilities in office; but, unhappily, her influence
over Jehangire was afterwards exerted to produce less creditable and
less fortunate results.[63] She survived her husband for upwards of
seventeen years, which serves to account for the paltry tomb erected to
her memory.
On the morning of the 26th of December, we crossed the Ravee in boats;
but the horses, as well as the camels and other beasts of burden, were
able to ford the river without being unloaded, the Ravee being much
narrower than its two predecessors which we had crossed.
Shortly before mid-day, we arrived within a mile of the city, and
encamped in a ploughed field, the advantages of which position were by
no means enhanced by the fall of rain on the previous day. The weather
now promised to be fine, luckily for us, and the ground was soon
dried, and as soon levelled by the constant intercourse with Lahore.
Immediately on our arrival, intimation was received that we must
consider ourselves all as guests of the Sikh government, who would not
admit of our purchasing any of the daily supplies requisite in camp;
and it was requested, that a return might be furnished of the strength
of the escort, that provision might be made for ourselves and cattle.
This daily distribution of provender was continued during the remainder
of our sojourn in the Punjaub, up to the day we recrossed the Sutlej.
Heaps of grain, straw, grass, eggs, flour, &c., were piled every
morning in front of the commissariat-officer's tents, and beside them,
droves of sheep and poultry stood, awaiting their fate with bleating
and cackling sorrow.
This singular practice of feeding the troops of their allies was no
novelty on the part of the Sikhs; the same custom prevailed during
former visits of British embassies to the court of Lahore, in the
lifetime of Runjeet Singh.
A memorandum was issued shortly after our arrival, recommending the
officers to abstain from visiting Lahore, until Sikh guides had been
obtained, as a sort of safety escort; it was, at the same time,
notified that sundry long-bearded savages would shortly be waiting at
the commissary-general's quarters, for the benefit of any officers
desirous of keeping such company.
This recommendation was neglected by many, in their impatience to visit
the celebrated metropolis; and though, generally, the Sikhs behaved
with unusual civility towards us, there were not wanting some examples
of the contrary.
The approach to Lahore from our camp was certainly the most favourable
point of view which could be procured. An extensive plain, covered
with turf, and enlivened by occasional clumps of trees, is stretched
along the exterior of the city-walls in this quarter; and the view
of temples, barracks, minarets, arsenals, and battlemented-walls,
jumbled in thick and confused order behind the ramparts, announce to
the visitor that he is about to enter a city which has maintained
no inconsiderable part on the stage of Eastern history. As I rode
towards the city-gate, in company with another officer, a party of
some twenty Sikh horsemen were issuing from the portal. On perceiving
us, they levelled their long spears, and advanced towards us at full
gallop. I could not refrain from forthwith drawing my sword, to meet
this unprovoked act of aggression; but my companion, whom experience
had made acquainted with Sikh peculiarities, requested me to ride
unconcernedly forward, and pay no attention to them. When this
adventurous body of cavaliers arrived within two or three spears'
length of us, they checked their horses back upon their haunches,
tossed up the points of their lances, and dispersed over the plain,
indulging in loud shouts of exultation at such an unwonted display of
horsemanship and courage. I could not help thinking, that had I been
alone, and provided with the usual furniture in my holsters, the noisy
occupants of two saddles might have paid dearly for this uncourteous
display of activity to a stranger. However, it is better for both that
such was not the case.
Having crossed the bridge over the moat which defends the ramparts, we
entered Lahore through a series of narrow, dirty bazaars and lanes,
thronged, as usual, with inhabitants, yet so narrow, that three
horsemen could not ride abreast, except where some monument or temple
had been erected, in front of which the thoroughfares had been widened
and improved. It was with some difficulty that we made our way amongst
the crowds of people, who gazed at us more intently than if we had
been wild beasts in cages. The only recompence for this troublesome
curiosity was a good view of the fair-complexioned, dark eyed damsels,
who occupied many windows and balconies on the first story. As these
exalted beauties had the consideration to appear unveiled, we had ample
opportunities of admiring their charms.
Having caused so much sensation, we almost began to imagine that
hitherto a wrong estimate had been formed of our importance, and that
we really were not what we thought; but, unhappily, our rising notions
of greatness were sadly checked by the discovery that we were merely
regarded as curiosities, but did not possess even sufficient influence
to gain admittance to the arsenal.
The Sikhs were very jealous of allowing any of the officers of the
escort to visit their military establishments. In one of the temples
converted into a barrack, we were anxious to ascend a tower, which must
have commanded a good view of Lahore, but the sentry was inexorable.
We applied to the officer in command of the barrack, but he pretended
that the doors were locked, and the keys mislaid. This apprehension
of gratifying our curiosity was no matter of surprise, although the
precaution was useless, as we were not likely to benefit by the sight
of their military institution; and as Lahore, in its present state, is
incapable of defence as a fortress, the view enjoyed by two officers on
the summit of one of its towers would not have tended much to endanger
the safety of the city and its inhabitants.
This complaint of the Sikhs' jealousy was made by nearly all the
officers who visited the city, though many had gone with influential
natives as an escort.
Sir John Keane having been for some time suffering from illness,
which prevented him from quitting his tent, a deputation of officers
from head-quarters waited upon Kurruk Singh, in his palace, to tender
excuses for his excellency's inability to see the maharajah.
There was little display of magnificence or of munificence at this
Durbar compared to those which had taken place in the days of Runjeet;
and it was evident now that the paw of the old Lion of Lahore had
relaxed its grasp of authority, there remained little respect for the
present puppet-show of royalty.
Each officer attending the Durbar was presented with a dress of honour
of an average value of about two and sixpence sterling, and the damaged
Cashmere shawls presented as nuzzurs, would have been mean offerings to
send home to our respectable grandmothers. I have particularized those
reverend ladies, because their taste in the selection of that elegant
and becoming head-dress, the Cashmere turban, might enable them to roll
out of sight many of the defects of Kurruk Singh's presents, which
would have been fatally glaring when spread on the shoulders.
Notwithstanding the enormous importation of shawls from Cashmere
into the Punjaub, the difficulty of procuring a really rich and
handsome shawl is greater than is commonly supposed. The most valuable
are generally purchased by the wealthy natives, who have the best
opportunities of procuring them; secondly, a good judge is required for
the selection; and, thirdly, rupees to spare to the amount of from five
hundred to twelve hundred, for the purchase of each.
The day after the Durbar above named, Kurruk Singh, attended by
his court, visited the commander-in-chief at his tent. As some busy
gossips among the Sikhs had circulated a report that Sir John Keane's
illness was merely a pretext for withholding his company, and thus
evincing disrespect for the maharajah, Kurruk Singh and several of
his party were invited to enter the sleeping apartment, which they
did, and doubtless were convinced that the report of his excellency's
aristocratic disorder was not without foundation. Presents having been
made, and the usual forms and conversation having been conducted by
means of the interpreter, (Captain Powell,) the variegated mass of
silks, birds'-feathers, and jewellery, arose and departed. As this
shuffling crowd of Kurruk and his courtiers moved, bowing their heads,
through a lane of some two dozen brawny, square-built Englishmen, drawn
up as a guard of honour at the door-way, I could not forbear a smile at
the ludicrous contrast in manner and bearing, as well as the unusual
spectacle of the royal family of the Punjaubees, bowing and cringing to
the brave and sturdy descendants of some hard-working British artizans.
Let these arrogant Asiatics crow as they will during our absence,
it is very clear that they cannot refrain from evincing their mighty
respect for British prowess when brought into contact with it.
I always have, and still do entertain, the highest prepossession for
good blood and breeding, both in man and beast; nor was I staggered
in my opinion by this day's exhibition. It only tended to exalt the
estimate of my countrymen, for I should prefer the plainest drop of
English blood to the turbid streams flowing through the veins of the
proudest descendant of the Prophet, precisely as I should select a
sound English hack in preference to the weedy and stumbling offspring
of the best Hindustanee parents.
Whilst accompanying the maharajah's party across the plain, between
our camp and Lahore, I observed some Sikhs engaged in their favourite
diversion of hawking, which being a novelty to me, I joined the
party, and rode with them some distance in pursuit. A noble falcon
had been slipped, and was in full chase of a kite, much larger and
probably stronger than himself. The falcon had no easy game to play;
he practised several dextrous manoeuvres, and stooped with great
rapidity; but the quarry was equally wary, and cleverly avoided the
enemy's attack, though his inferiority in speed prevented him from
contending successfully when soaring for the higher place. At length,
night put an end to the contest, and the bird having been called in, we
rode homewards; but the kite, after his exertions, must have been ill
qualified to procure an evening's meal.
The Sikh sportsmen behaved with civility, and took some pains in
conveying instructions to me in falconry; but I derived little benefit
from their attentions, not being able to understand one-tenth of what
they said. Their knowledge of Hindustani appeared to be more limited
than my own, and one prevalent error was using the nose as much as
the mouth in the course of their conversation. I am not sure that I
am justified in calling this an error; for the Americans, who contend
that they speak English better than we can, adopt the same mode of
pronunciation. Their literature and social refinement must add weight
to the assertion. Washington Irving, by far the first of American
authors, complains of the ignorance and prejudice of English writers
on America: let me give him an example, taken from a book written by
an American of a learned profession. His opinion is not confined to
one country, and caused me a good hearty laugh. The author having
become intimately acquainted with the misery and ignorance of European
nations, proceeds to pronounce sentence at the end of his book--the
only good part:
"My soul has been sickened at the sight of oppression, ignorance,
abjectness, and vice, which I have seen everywhere the result of
arbitrary rule.[64] I contrast with these the general intelligence,
the independent spirit, the comparative virtue of my countrymen, and
I am proud of the name of an American. But it does not become us to
boast.[65] True greatness _never_ plays the part of the braggadocio.
If the people under the despotic governments of Europe are less
intelligent and happy than we, it is their misfortune, and not their
fault, and they are more deserving our pity than our scorn!!"[66]
I think we should be at a loss to find a parallel for this amongst the
most ignorant and prejudiced of our writers on America.
On the morning of the 28th of December, we quitted Lahore, having
discharged the required duty of visiting Runjeet's unworthy successor,
and witnessing the estimation in which he was held. The party of Sher
Singh (the next in succession to the throne) was supposed, at that
time, to be strong; and the death of Kurruk Singh, which occurred
shortly afterwards, is generally attributed to a plot to bring the
favourite to supreme authority. But the death of Runjeet rang the
death-knell of the nation he had brought to such rapid importance.
The reign of Kurruk's successor commenced with the massacre or removal
of most of the European officers in the Sikh service, by the soldiery;
the natural consequence of which must be the deterioration of that
discipline which Runjeet wisely devoted the greater part of his life
in endeavouring to establish. Could he have deputed his own abilities
to his successor, the Punjaub might have risen into one of the most
important nations of the East; but the army is becoming daily more
disorganized and under less control. Their arrears of pay remain
unsettled, which is a dangerous experiment; and the officers, although
possessing little authority with the troops under their command, are
among the disaffected. They are becoming troublesome neighbours on the
north-western frontier, especially as their country is so situated as
to interfere with our direct communication with the far-distant and
isolated position in Afghanistan. Under these circumstances, they must
necessarily be made either permanent friends or obedient subjects;
they will never become the former, and it will take a good many years
to reduce them to the latter alternative; yet, if we continue to hold
Afghanistan, it must be done.
At a distance of about six miles from Lahore, we passed the camp of the
main body of the Sikh army, consisting of about fifty thousand men and
one hundred and sixty pieces of cannon. Having pitched our camp about
four miles distant from this overwhelming host, we were invited by Sher
Singh to attend a review of the army, which he directed to be held that
afternoon.
On reaching their camp, it was already so late, that we had only time
to ride along their line, (which extended to an enormous distance,)
before sunset. Some of our officers, who had been with the previous
mission to Lahore, remarked regiments apparently of recent equipment.
On approaching the end of the line, torrents of abuse were lavished on
the British nation by the chivalrous Alkalees, who brandished their
weapons, shook their quoits, and behaved with incredible valour, if not
rashness, in exhibiting to four or five strangers and visitors what
a dangerous and formidable class the Alkalees were, and how much they
detested the Feringhees, even without knowing them.
These besotted fanatics, we were told, had done the old Lion some
service, when, excited by opium and exceeding pot-valour, they
dashed headlong into the ranks of their adversaries, who, being less
intoxicated than the Alkalees, or less capable of directing the effects
of their intoxication, gave way in confusion before these accomplished
drunkards. More worthy symbols of superstition could hardly be found
amongst the Fakeers and idiots[67] of the Hindoos.
The new regiments of cavalry, which appeared to have been equipped
or raised since our last rencontre at Ferozepore, were a brigade
of lancers, (a laughable caricature of the British regiment, which
they were intended to resemble,) two corps of cuirassiers, and some
mail-clad irregulars; the latter uncommonly fine, rough-and-ready
looking fellows--light troops which, well-handled, would cause much
inconvenience at outpost or guerilla-service, unless their appearance
belied them. I was told by an officer of an ingenious device which he
saw practised by the Sikh infantry. When wheeling into a parade-line, a
string had been laid on the ground, which was invisible to a looker-on
at a short distance, and when the word of command was given, each
regiment wheeled up to this mark, and thus formed a pretty correct
line without any trouble in dressing or posting markers. The evening
closed in so soon at this season, that we had little time afforded us
to observe their progress in manoeuvring, as the extensive line toiled
through the manoeuvre of changing front, whilst the artillery enveloped
the whole scene in dust and smoke. The Sikh artillery is, however,
beyond a doubt, the most effective branch of their service, working
with great rapidity, and firing with almost as much precision and
regularity as the British, who have been their model.
During the progress of this review, three or four officers, having
left their horses in charge of some Sikh soldiers, mounted the
elephants which had been sent by the Sikh sirdars as calculated to
give a better view of the field than could be obtained on horseback.
The review being over, these officers, returning to the spot where
their horses had been left, found, to their dismay, that chargers,
horse-trappings, and Sikhs had vanished. Search amongst such a host of
men and beasts, in the dusk of evening, presented very small chance of
success; so, endeavouring to reconcile their minds to the severity of
fate, they returned to camp. A complaint of the loss was immediately
forwarded by the British political agent to the Sikh authorities,
who promised that the horses should be recovered or their owners
indemnified. During our halt at Ferozepore, a few days afterwards, the
horses were restored to their owners, mainly owing, it is supposed,
to the enormous value attached by one of the officers to an animal
of decidedly unprepossessing appearance, whose unaccountable value
and good qualities were possibly known only to his master. The Sikh
thieves had been palpably ignorant of the value of their prize; for
this extraordinary charger, (though always belonging to the lean
kind,) had now been suffered to dwindle away until he became a close
resemblance of an engraving which I remember having seen, a few years
ago, in the London engravers' windows, entitled, "The Nightmare." The
facetious quadruped is represented with its head tied to a knocker, and
grinning in the face of the alarmed house-owner, who appears at the
door dressed in his night costume, with a rush-light in his hand and a
blunderbuss under his arm.
Several more petty thefts were committed on our camp whilst in the
vicinity of the Sikh army; and in some instances the dexterity of the
thieves was not inferior to that of the many renowned practitioners
throughout Hindostan.
Four days march from the Sikh camp brought us once more to the banks of
the Sutlej, which we crossed in boats, re-entering the provinces at the
point from which the army had started on this long and wearisome tour.
Ferozepore, which we had left a mean native town, was now embellished
with extensive, white-washed bazaars; and a neat little fort in the
centre of the town was occupying the attention of our engineers. The
ground, which had been covered by the canvas-abodes of a portion of
the army at the close of the year 1838, was now, in January, 1840, the
site of a large cantonment, which had risen, as if by magic, within the
space of fourteen months, and was then tenanted by three regiments of
native infantry and some artillery.[68]
From hence, we shortly afterwards dispersed in different directions,
to occupy our allotted quarters. We marched through Khytul and Kurnal,
to occupy our former quarters at Merut, which we had no sooner reached,
than the excitement of the campaign being over, the sufferings and
privations which all had undergone began to tell severely upon
their health, and many a gallant fellow was committed to his last
resting-place in the sombre burial-ground of Merut.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 59: Punjaub means, literally, five rivers.]
[Footnote 60: "Mad as a hatter," is a favourite term of comparison.]
[Footnote 61: The chiefs take care to provide for this. Colonel Ford, a
British officer in Runjeet's service, had three villages given him for
pay, out of which he was allowed to make the most. This was the usual
practice; but the people are now growing stronger.]
[Footnote 62: The disposition of Eastern states, like the character
of froward children, may be tested by these trifling humours in their
behaviour.]
[Footnote 63: For further information, I refer the reader to Dow's
"History of India."]
[Footnote 64: N.B.--Arbitrary rule, in his vocabulary, is explained to
mean, simply, any monarchy or empire.]
[Footnote 65: The author has made this discovery too late, and the next
sentence seals his fate.]
[Footnote 66: "Two Years and a Half in the American Navy," vol. ii. p.
244.]
[Footnote 67: An idiot is revered by the Hindoo, as a Heaven-afflicted
sufferer.]
[Footnote 68: A fort on modern principles was soon after built in
cantonments, and quarters provided for a British regiment.]
END OF VOL. I.
T.C. Savill, Printer, 4, Chandos-street, Covent garden.