Twelve Years Of A Soldier's Life In India Part 8

I am now writing in his room with the incessant entrances and exits of natives,--rajahs, princes, vakeels, &c. &c., and officers civil and military; and the buzz of business and confusion of tongues, black and white, learned and unlearned, on all subjects, political, religious (at this minute they are disputing what "the Church" means), and military, so that I am tolerably puzzled. I have been taking a tremendously long walk this morning about the hills and valleys, with Mr. and Mrs. Currie, and enjoying the beauties of Simla.

SIMLA, _Sept. 14th, 1846_.

My original week at Simla has grown into a month, thanks to Colonel Lawrence's pressing, and Colonel Orchard's (_my_ colonel's) kindness. I should hardly like staying so long with Colonel Lawrence, (especially as I live day and night in the same room with him and his papers, regularly camp fashion,) but that he wishes it, and I manage to give him a slight helping hand by making _precis_ of his letters, and copying confidential papers. He is amazingly kind, and tells me all that is going on, initiating me into the mysteries of "political" business, and thus giving me more knowledge of things and persons Indian than I should learn in a year of ordinary life, aye! or in three years either. This is a great advantage to my ultimate prospects, of course independently of the power he possesses of giving me a lift in the world when I am of sufficient standing to hold any appointment.

He makes me work at Hindostanee, and has given me a lesson or two in the use of the theodolite, and other surveying instruments, to the end that I may get employed in the Surveying Department, after two years of which he says "I shall be fit for a Political."

I have been very fortunate in many ways, more so than I had any right to expect. If I were only nearer to you all, and had any old friends about me, I should have nothing to regret or wish for. It is _there_ that the shoe especially pinches. All minor annoyances are easily got rid of, but one _does_ find a wonderful lack of one's old friends and old a.s.sociations. Society is very different here from ours at home, and different as it is I have seen very little of it.

Nor am I, with my previous habits, age, and education, the person to feel this an indifferent matter; but on the contrary, all the drawbacks of Indian existence come with redoubled force from the greatness of the contrast. Still I do not let these things annoy me, or weigh down my spirits, but strive, by keeping up English habits, tastes, and feelings, and looking forward to a run home, (thus having a motive always in view,) to make the best of everything as it occurs, and to act upon the principle, that mere outward circ.u.mstances don't make a man's happiness. If I have one feeling stronger than another, it is contempt for a "regular Indian," a man who thinks it fine to adopt a totally different set of habits and morals and fashions, until, in forgetting that he is an Englishman, he usually forgets also that he is a Christian and a gentleman. Such characters are happily rare now, but there are many fragments of it on a small scale, and always must be so, so long as the men who are to support the name and power of England in Asia are sent out here at an age when neither by education nor reflection can they have learnt all or even a fraction of what those words imply. It would be a happy thing for India and for themselves if _all_ came out here at a more advanced age than now, but _one_ alone breaking through the custom in that respect made and provided, must not expect to escape the usual fate, or at least the usual annoyances, of innovators.

I have enjoyed my visit here very much, and though I have not sought them, have made one or two very pleasant acquaintances, or improved them. I have been very little out, and pa.s.sed my time almost entirely with Colonel Lawrence and his family, _i. e._, his brother and the two sisters-in-law. Things are not looking well on the frontier.

Cashmere and the hill country wont submit to Gholab Singh, to whom we gave them over, and have been thrashing his troops and killing his ministers; and I expect October will see an army a.s.sembled to frighten them into submission, or interfere with a strong arm, as the case may be.

We seem bound to see him established on the throne we carved out for him, and it is our only chance of keeping peace and order; though at the best he is such a villain, and so detested, that I imagine it will be but a sorry state of quietness:--

The torrent's smoothness ere it dash below.

In a letter to his wife, written during this visit, Sir H. Lawrence says:--

_Sept. 1st._--"I brought up with me from Subathoo a fine young fellow, by name Hodson, son of the Archdeacon of Stafford. He is now (10 P. M.) sleeping in my little office-room, where I am writing. Thomason recommended him to me, and I have seldom met so promising a young fellow. He left the native branch of the army at the expense of some steps, because he did not like the conduct of the Sepoys. He was for four years with Dr. Arnold, and two in the sixth form under his eye. He speaks most affectionately of him. I will try to get leave for him for a month to accompany me to Lah.o.r.e and Jummoo in October.... I get a good deal of help from Hodson, who works _willingly_ and _sensibly_. Perhaps you may meet the family at Lichfield."

LAh.o.r.e, _October 14th, 1846_.

As I hoped when I wrote last, I am again writing from the capital of the "Singhs," but, alas for the "lions," their tails are very much down in the world since this time last year, when the "fierce and formidable army" a.s.sembled to invade our tempting provinces. Nearly half the garrison has marched across the Ravee, and not more than 5,000 or 6,000 British troops now hold the far-famed capital of Runjeet Singh.

You must not be alarmed by the accounts you will see in the papers by this mail of the advance of two forces from Lah.o.r.e and Jullunder towards Jummoo. They are not to take any active part in the operations of Gholab Singh for the recovery of Cashmere from the rebellious Sheikh Imaumoodeen; our troops are to hold the Maharaja's country for him while he advances with his whole disposable force, augmented by a Sikh auxiliary army.

It is probable that the Sheikh will give in without fighting as soon as he hears the preparations made by both powers for his coercion. Indeed, a letter has arrived from Cashmere to say he _has_ given in; but he is a wily fellow, and I mightily distrust him. I only know if _I_ was in Cashmere with my army at my back, _I_ would not give in as long as a man was left to pull a trigger! The Agent (Colonel Lawrence) and I start to-morrow evening, going seventy miles the first day, and hope to reach Bhimbur, at the foot of the hills, on the 17th, thence to go up and join the Maharaja, and accompany his army to Cashmere. If he fights we shall see the fun; if not, we are to accompany him and keep him from excesses and injustice in the valley, and return here, I fancy, in about a month or six weeks. Of course, in event of the two armies coming to blows, it will probably be some time longer ere we return. I am delighted at the thoughts of seeing Cashmere, and am gaining great advantage from being with these "politicals" in the way of learning the languages, and method of governing the natives. I have been hard at work day and night for some time now, writing for Colonel Lawrence. I left Subathoo on the 1st, and after a ride of some twenty miles through the hills, joined Colonel Lawrence and Mr. Christian, and after a shake-down in a little mud bungalow, and an amusing dinner, (served up in two bra.s.s basins, standing on a bed,) and a breakfast to match, we rode down to Roopur, on the Sutlej. Here we took boat, and floated down the river to Ferozepoor, and came across to Lah.o.r.e during the night in a capital barouche belonging to the Ranee, with relays of horses and an escort of cavalry.

THANNA, AT THE FOOT OF THE Pa.s.s INTO CASHMERE, _Oct.

26th, 1846_.

Our tent is pitched on the top of a little spur from the mountain side, and beneath us lie, in quaint picturesque confusion, scattered over the valley and the little staircase-like rice-fields, the mingled hosts of Lah.o.r.e and Jummoo. The spare stalwart Sikh, with his grizzled beard and blue turban of the scantest dimensions, side by side with the huge-limbed Affghan, with voluminous headgear and many-colored garments. The proud Brahmin in the same ranks with the fierce "Children of the Faithful;" the little active Hillman; the diminutive, st.u.r.dy, platter-faced Ghoorka, and the slight-made Hindostanee, collected in the same tents, and all alike clothed in a caricature of the British uniform. I have been very much interested and amused by this march with a native army, so different from our own proceedings and our own military power,--albeit the British army will soon be as varied in its composition.

I have seen a great deal of the native Sirdars or chiefs, especially Tej Singh who commanded the Sikh forces in the war, and of the Maharaja. The former a small, spare little man, marked with the smallpox, and with a thin and scanty beard, but sharp and intelligent, and by his own account _a hero_. The Maharaja is a fine, tall, portly man, with a splendid expressive face, and most gentlemanly, pleasing manner, and fine-toned voice,--altogether the most pleasing Asiatic I have seen,--to all appearance the gentlest of the gentle, and the most sincere and truthful character in the world; and in his habits he is certainly exemplary; but he is the cleverest hypocrite in the world; as sharp and acute as possible, devoured by avarice and ambition, and when roused, horribly cruel. This latter accusation he rebuts, by alleging the necessity of the case and the ferocity of those he has to deal with. To us, however, his fondness for flaying men alive, cutting off their noses and ears and hands, &c., savors _rather_ of the inexcusable. He was accused of having flayed 12,000 men, which he indignantly a.s.serted was a monstrous calumny, as he only skinned _three_; afterwards he confessed to _three hundred_! Yet he is not a bit worse, and in many ways infinitely better, than most native princes. Lawrence doubts whether _one_ could be found with fewer faults, if placed in similar circ.u.mstances.

Avitabile, to the disgrace of his European blood, was far more cruel. The stories current in the Punjaub of his abominations are horrible. The costumes of these chiefs would delight you: they never make a mistake in colors, and the effect is always good, however bright they may be. This force is (as I told you) moving up to turn the Sheikh Imaumoodeen, the rebellious va.s.sal of the Lah.o.r.e Government, out of Cashmere, in virtue of the treaty ceding it to Gholab Singh. Up to yesterday, I expected it would be a fight, but yesterday the Sheikh sent letters to say he was sorry and repentful, and was on his way to tender his submission. So we wait here to receive him. This will not, however, prevent my visit to the valley, as Colonel Lawrence intends to accompany the Maharaja to pacify and take possession.

It is very cold here, though not much above 5,000 feet above the sea.

_To his Father._

SHUPYEN, IN CASHMERE, _Nov. 6th, 1846_.

I write a hurried line to announce my safe arrival in the valley. On the 1st instant we got hold of the rebellious Sheikh, and sent him down to the plains; and yesterday, Colonel Lawrence, Captain Browne, and myself, rode into the valley, amid the acclamations of an admiring population--of beggars! I am writing at sunrise in a little tent, and in spite of two coats and waistcoats, I am nearly "friz." We crossed the Pir Punjal Pa.s.s on the 4th, 12,000 feet above the sea, with snow all around us, and slept on this side in an old serai; I say _slept_, because we went to bed; but sleeping was out of the question, from the cold and uproar of all our followers and their horses, crowded into a court-yard thirty feet square, horses and men quarrelling and yelling all night long. The view from the top of the Pa.s.s was very fine, but the wind far too high to take more than a peep of it without losing one's eyes; but the road from Thanna to the summit was most lovely the whole way, winding up a glen wooded magnificently, and the rocks towering above us on all sides; the trees were all in their varied autumn dress, surmounted by forests of pine; altogether, I never saw so grand a scene. As the Sheikh's submission has cut the Gordian knot of politics here, we shall only stay a few days to see the valley, and install the Maharaja, (who is following us with his force by slow stages,) and then rush back to Lah.o.r.e and Subathoo.

This is said to be the largest town but three in the valley.

It is a poverty-stricken, scattered hamlet of mud houses with wooden roofs, the upper half being generally rough open lattice-work or railing, with alternate supports of unbaked bricks; low mud inclosures, and open waste s.p.a.ces between, dedicated to dogs and dunghills. The whole is thickly grown over with fine apple and walnut trees, the staple fruits (with the grape) of the valley, and the food of the people.

_They_ are a poor wretched set, only good for beasts of burden,--and certainly they can carry a vast load,--their dress, both men and women, being a loose, wide-sleeved smock-frock of dirty sackcloth-looking woollen. The men wear a dirty skullcap on their shaven "n.o.bs," and the women a crimson machine, like a flower-pot saucer inverted, from which depends a veil or cloth of the same texture as the frock; legs and feet clothed in their native dirt. The women are atrociously ugly, and screech like the witches in _Macbeth_,--so much so, that when the Agent asked me to give them a rupee or two, I felt it my duty to refuse, firmly but respectfully, on the ground that it would be encouraging ugliness! I fancy the climate and the soil are unrivalled, but years of poverty and oppression have reduced to a nation of beggars what ought to be a Paradise. We go hence after breakfast to Islumabad, at the eastern end of the valley; and spend a day or two in looking about us, and floating down the river to Cashmere itself, by which time our "prince" will have arrived. I am the luckiest dog unhung to have actually got into Cashmere. I fancy I am the first officer of our army who has been here, save the few who have come officially. These delightful breezes are most invigorating. I only wish you could all enjoy these travels with me. I expect to be back at Subathoo by the 1st of December.

In a letter to my father about this time, Mr. Thomason says:--

"I am very glad to observe that such an intimacy has sprung up between Colonel Lawrence and your William. He could not be under better direction.

"Colonel Lawrence has evidently taken him entirely into his confidence, which cannot but be of the greatest use to him in his future career. He will have opportunities of observation and instruction now, which very few possess after a long period of service. To be selected, too, as his confidant by a man of Colonel Lawrence's stamp, is no small feather in the cap of any young man. He stands deservedly high also in the esteem of all who know him; and if it please G.o.d to spare his life and give him health, his prospects are as good as any man's can be in this country."

Colonel Lawrence having discovered that my brother could _work_, was by no means disposed to let him remain without full occupation, as his next letter will show:--

SUBATHOO, _April 1st, 1847_.

I am wonderfully well and flourishing, and have lots to do.

Lawrence has made me undertake the secretaryship of the new Asylum for European Children, building some ten miles hence, which will give me volumes of correspondence, and leagues, nay lat.i.tudes of riding. Nevertheless, it is well, and it is a good work. The responsibility will be great, as a committee of management, on an average three hundred miles apart, are rather nominal in their supervision of things.

SUBATHOO, _April 1st, 1847_.

If my locomotive instinct has been brought into play in India, as you suggest, my constructive organs are likely to have their share of exercise. I have the entire direction and arrangement of the new Hill Asylum on my hands just now.

It is seven miles hence, of mountain roads, and what with going and coming, planning, instructing, and supervising, my time is pretty well occupied, to say nothing of my regiment, and private affairs. Building a house in India is a different affair from one's previous experiences. You begin from the forest and the quarry, have to get lime burnt, trees cut down, bricks made, planks sawn up, the ground got ready, and then watch the work foot by foot,--showing this "n.i.g.g.e.r" how to lay his bricks, another the proper proportions of a beam, another the construction of a door, and to the several artisans the mysteries of a screw, a nail, and a hinge. You cannot say to a man, "Make me a wall or a door," but you must with your own hands measure out his work, teach him to saw away here, to plane there, or drive such a nail, or insinuate such another suspicion of glue.

And when it comes to be considered that this is altogether new work to me, and has to be excuded by cogitation on the spot, so as to give an answer to every inquirer, you may understand the amount of personal exertion and attention required for the work.

I have the sole direction and control of nearly four hundred and fifty workmen, including paying them, keeping accounts, drawing plans, and everything. I have to get earth dug for bricks, see the moulds made and watch the progress of them till the kiln is full, get wood for the kiln, and direct the lighting of the same, and finally provide a goat to sacrifice to the demon who is supposed to turn the bricks red! Then I must get bamboos and gra.s.s cut for thatching, and string _made_ for the purpose; send about the hills for sand for mortar, and limestone to burn, see it mixed and prepared, and then show the n.i.g.g.e.rs how to use it. Then the whole of the wood-work must be set out and made under one's own eye, and a lump of iron brought from the mine to be wrought (also under one's direction) into nails and screws, before a single door can be set up; and when to all this is added the difficulty of getting hands (I mean in the hills), and the bother of watching the idlest and most cunning race on earth, you may suppose my "unpaid magistracy" is no sinecure. I am not exaggerating or indeed telling half the difficulty, for fear you should think the whole a romance.

You will naturally ask how I learnt all these trades. I can only say that you can't be more astonished than I am myself, and can only satisfy you by the theory that "necessity is the mother of invention." I am seldom able to sit down from sunrise to sunset, when I get a hasty dinner, and am then only too glad to sleep off the effects of the day. How I have escaped fever during the last month I cannot think, as it has been terribly hot in the sun, even in the hills, and I have lived in the blaze of it pretty constantly. Colonel Lawrence seems determined I shall have nothing to stop me, for his invariable reply to every question is, "Act on your own judgment;" "Do what you think right;" "I give you _carte blanche_ to act in my name, and draw on my funds," and so forth.

Are you aware of the nature of the inst.i.tution? It was started, in idea, by Colonel Lawrence some two or three years ago, and a sufficient sum of money for a commencement having been raised, he charged me with the erection of the necessary buildings, and the organization and setting in motion of the great machine which is to regenerate and save from moral and physical degradation, sickness, and death, the children of the British soldiers serving in India. The object is to teach them all things useful, while you give them the advantage of a healthy climate, removed from the evil influence of a barrack-room. The children are to remain in the Asylum until their parents return to England, or till old enough to join the ranks, or be otherwise provided for.

Another drag upon my hands is the care of a small European boy, who was lately found up in Cabul, and is supposed to be the son of some soldier of the destroyed army. He has been brought up as a Mussulman, and made to believe his father was such, and is a very bigot. Colonel Lawrence sent him to me from Lah.o.r.e, but forgot to write about him, so I know no more of him than I have seen in the newspapers, and have no idea what to do with him, or where he is to go. He is rather a nuisance, and I shall be glad when he goes, as there is little but his odd fate to interest one in him; and I have considerable doubts as to his genuine origin. He is more like a half-caste than an "European." Our communication is brief, as he speaks but little Hindostanee, and I less Persian. The Asylum is a much more interesting occupation, as, independently of its object, there is a pleasure in covering a fine mountain with buildings of one's own designing.

A few days later he writes:--

My last few days at the Asylum were enlivened by the arrival of Mrs. George Lawrence, whose tent was pitched close to mine, on the hill-top. She is a great acquisition in a forest life, and a very nice person,--the wife of the Captain Lawrence who was one of the Cabul prisoners. She is to be superintendress until the arrival of the future man from England. I have fourteen little girls to take care of, by the same token, and listen to the grumblings of their nurses. In short, I don't know myself, and that is the long and short of it. I am going to Simla for a day or two, to see Mr. Thomason.

And again, to his brother:--

The state of things is so provokingly quiet and placid, that there seems but small chance of our being called upon for another rush across country (called a "forced march"), like the one of December, 1845; and one is obliged to take to anything that offers, to avoid the "taedium vitae" which the want of employment engenders in this "lovely country," in those, at least, who have not learnt to exist in the philosophical medium of brandy and cheroots. Did I tell you, by-the-bye, that I abjured tobacco when I left England, and that I have never been tempted, by even a night "al fresco,"

to resume the delusive habit? Nor have I told you (because I despaired of your believing it) that I have declined from the paths of virtue in respect to beer also, these two years past, seldom or never even tasting that once idolized stimulant!! It has not been caused alone by a love of eccentricity, but by the very sensitive state of my inner man, (achieved in India,) which obliges me to live by rule.

This is all very edifying, no doubt, to _you_; to me it is especially so, for I believe if I get on well in India, it will be owing, physically speaking, to my _digestion_.

SUBATHOO, _June 18th, 1847_.

I am getting on famously at the Asylum just now, and have succeeded in getting the children under cover before the rains. I have narrowly escaped a bad fever through overwork in the sun, but, by taking it in time, I got right again.

The weather has since taken a turn, and become much cooler, besides which my princ.i.p.al anxiety is over for the season. I have certainly had a benefit of work, both civil and literary, for the Inst.i.tution, and since Colonel Lawrence put an advertis.e.m.e.nt in the papers, desiring all anxious persons to apply to me, I have had enough on my hands. It is all very well, but interferes with my reading no little; and I am sure to get more kicks than thanks for my pains from an ungrateful and undiscerning public. However, as long as Colonel Lawrence leaves everything so completely in my hands, and trusts so implicitly to my skill and honesty, it would be a shame not to work "_un_-like a n.i.g.g.e.r."

It is intended that the children should remain in the Inst.i.tution until they are eighteen years of age, if their fathers be alive, and until somehow or other provided for, should they be orphans. The majority of the boys will, of course, become soldiers; but my belief is, that having been brought up in the delightful climate of the Himalaya, they will, after ten or fifteen years, settle down in the various stations and slightly elevated valleys in these hills, as traders and cultivators, and form the nucleus of the first British colony in India. My object is to give them English habits from the first, which they have in most cases to learn, from being brought up by native nurses from infancy.

Part of the scheme is to make the Inst.i.tution support itself, and I am very shortly going to start a farm-yard. I have already got a fine large garden in full swing; and here you may see French beans, cabbages, strawberry plants, and fine potatoes (free from disease). I steadfastly refuse the slightest dash of color in admitting children. People may call this illiberal, if they please; the answer is obvious.

Half-castes stand the climate of the plains too well to need a hill sanitorium, and by mixing them with English children you corrupt those whom you wish to benefit. The little boy who was lately redeemed from Cabul, and whom Colonel Lawrence consigned to my care, is the plague of my existence. He has the thoroughly lying, deceitful habits, and all the dirt, of the Affghan races, and not a single point of interest to counterbalance them.