  Title: Military Service and Adventures in the Far East, Vol. II (of 2) Including Sketches of the Campaigns Against the Afghans in 1839, and the Sikhs in 1845-6 Author: Daniel Henry MacKinnon Language: English Character set encoding: UTF-8 E-text prepared by Brian Coe, Graeme Mackreth, | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| CHAPTER I. | |
| The commander-in-chief returns to England—Disastrous insurrection throughout Afghanistan—Jellalabad holds out, and General Pollock advances upon Caubul | p. 1 |
| CHAPTER II. | |
| Visit to Agra—Journey through Central India via Gwalior and Indore to Bombay | 16 |
| CHAPTER III. | |
| Arrival in Calcutta—Departure for the south-western frontier—Arrival at Merut—State of affairs on the north-western frontier—The Sikh military establishment—The British position | 37 |
| CHAPTER IV. | |
| The British forces—The Sikh army cross the Sutlej—The battle of Moodkee—Position and operations considered | 65 |
| CHAPTER V. | |
| The army advance to attack the Sikhs in their entrenched camp at Ferozeshuhur—The actions of the 21st and 22nd of December—Sikhs retreat behind the Sutlej—Observations | 91 |
| CHAPTER VI. | |
| Assemblage of the British forces on the Sutlej—Sikhs threaten to recross—Sir Harry Smith detached towards Loodiana—Skirmish near Buddewal | 133 |
| CHAPTER VII. | |
| Sir Harry Smith advances to attack the Sikhs in their camp—The battle of Aliwal—The enemy defeated and driven across the river—Observations | 163 |
| CHAPTER VIII. | |
| Sir Harry Smith's division march to rejoin the head-quarters of the army—Preparations to eject the enemy from their position on the British side of the river | 207 |
| CHAPTER IX. | |
| The battle of Sobraon—The enemy defeated and driven across the river with enormous loss | 223 |
| CHAPTER X. | |
| The British forces cross the Sutlej, and are concentrated at Kussoor—Visit of Ghoolab Singh and Dhuleep Singh to the Governor-general—The army advance to Lahore—The Sikh army disperse, and surrender their guns | 249 |
| CHAPTER XI. | |
| Ratification of the treaty—Observations on the effects likely to be produced thereby—Conclusion | 269 |
MILITARY SERVICE
IN THE FAR EAST.
THE COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF RETURNS TO ENGLAND—DISASTROUS INSURRECTION THROUGHOUT AFGHANISTAN—JELLALABAD HOLDS OUT, AND GENERAL POLLOCK ADVANCES UPON CAUBUL.
After the breaking up of the army of the Indus, Sir John Keane proceeded down the Indus, and shortly afterwards embarked for England, where those honours, titles, and pecuniary rewards awaited him, which would have entitled him to the appellation of one of the most fortunate soldiers who ever acquired laurels in India—had he survived long to enjoy the distinction.
Fortunate, indeed, may Sir John Keane be termed, in having brought to an apparently successful conclusion a campaign which was founded in error and injustice, and placed in the hands of the commander-in-chief with the fullest assurance of the directing arm of Providence leading the small band through a country of which the little that was known should have induced a supposition that an army provided with an insufficient amount of supplies must meet with enormous difficulties. By some unaccountable fatality, the Afghans neglected the advantages thus afforded them, and thereby induced a supposition that the warlike spirit of the tribes who had overrun and conquered Hindostan had departed for ever; and that a handful of British soldiers would be sufficient to maintain possession of a country inhabited by a nation whose hands were fitted at their birth to the cimeter, and whose eyes, when capable of distinguishing objects with accuracy, were directed along the barrel of a rifle.
Trusting, doubtless, in the resources of their monarch to repel the British invasion, no coalition was formed amongst the mountain tribes; but when the abhorred Feringhee had seized their king and established himself in the land of their fathers, and when, moreover, they beheld him, lulled into security, break up his forces and march the greater portion of his army homewards through the jaws of the tremendous portals of Afghanistan, the lighted torch flew with resolute speed from the valley of Quetta to the mountains of Kohistan. The Ghilzie, whose heel had been bruised, but whose arm was not unnerved, roused his brethren to vengeance, and the eloquence of Akbar, pleading for the diadem which had been snatched from his ambitious hopes, found a responsive echo in the heart of every true Barukzye.
A tribe of insolent plunderers had established themselves in the Khoord Caubul, and had the audacity to interfere with the letter-carriers. The gallant Sale, with his brigade, hastened to brush these intruders from the surface of the mountains, but the band of robbers had swollen to an army; and though, by desperate valour and unwearied exertion, a passage was forced through every obstacle, yet the passes closed upon the isolated brigade, and the communication with the ill-fated garrison of Caubul was cut off for ever.
Red with the slaughter of their enemies, and faint from their own wounds, the wearied band of soldiers, under Sale, threw themselves into Jellalabad. Then burst the startling intelligence over the plains of India that an insurrection had broken out amongst the far-distant mountains of Afghanistan, and that our fellow-soldiers were ill provided with sustenance, short of ammunition, and enveloped amongst countless swarms of enemies. I will not enter minutely on the details of that insurrection, which shook the fabric of our Eastern power to its centre, brought unmerited obloquy on the British name, and entailed the most harrowing series of disasters on the hapless army in Afghanistan that England's history can record in her military annals.
The task of recapitulating the succession of horrors which took place in Caubul has been undertaken by eye-witnesses and sufferers from the small remnant of the Caubul garrison who escaped.
Amongst that catalogue of miseries and massacre we have the consolatory reflection that the Afghans found no grounds to assert that the British, though worn with toil, and pierced by incessant cold, derogated in aught from their national fame. From the first struggle on leaving the entrenched camp at Caubul, unto the final catastrophe at Gundamuk, the Afghans were cautious of meeting our fellow-countrymen at close quarters. When they tried the experiment, led by the alluring satisfaction of revelling in Feringhee gore, they found that, although heart-broken and disorganized, the Briton was ever ready to die facing his enemy. Peace to the manes of those maligned and hapless warriors, whose bones are bleaching on every height and valley of that rugged desolation (fit scene for such a catastrophe) which disfigures the face of the country, from the gates of the Bala Hissar to the walls of Jellalabad! And, peace to the ashes of the worthy and amiable Elphinstone! It rested not with him that, suffering under bodily weakness and worn by mental anxieties in his arduous command, he should have lived to end his honourable days in an enemy's camp. The soldier has no choice but to obey the authority which places him in command, and those authorities are answerable to their countrymen for the selection.
But the British power fell not with her general and his army. Kandahar was held with security in the iron grasp of Nott.[1] The little garrison of Khelat-i-Ghilzie held resolutely their post against the repeated and determined attacks of their blood-thirsty foe; and the haughty Akbar, with the bravest of his mountain tribes, was checked in his murderous career under the walls of Jellalabad. The "illustrious garrison" maintained their isolated post against cold, starvation, the overwhelming mass of vaunting Afghans, and against the convulsions of nature when an earthquake cast down their fortifications and left no artificial barrier, beyond their weapons, between the hordes of Afghanistan and Sale's devoted band.
Vain were the efforts made by the Native Infantry Brigade, from Peshawur, to force the passage of the Khyber, for the spirit of those savage mountaineers was roused; every hill was watched with untiring vigilance, and the two regiments which penetrated to Ali Musjid had little cause to congratulate themselves on their undertaking. At length, the "avenging army," under the guidance of General Pollock, having traversed the Punjaub with rapid strides, arrived at the gorge of the Khyber, and joyfully received the tidings of Jellalabad being still in the hands of Sale.
Resting awhile to give breath to his soldiers, and to see his army properly equipped, the gallant general (armed with full discretionary power from the noble and sagacious Ellenborough, whose strong arm now guided the helm of India) prepared to advance. From every village and fastness of the gloomy Khyber the gathering call had gone forth, and the ready mountaineers hastened to the defence of their hereditary defiles; but their haste was of no avail, for the Britons were advancing to save their gallant countrymen, to retaliate on the authors of the Caubul atrocities, and to rescue their countrywomen from captivity. Advancing, with his main body in the jaws of the defile, whilst his two wings spread over the flanking mountains, General Pollock drove the reluctant Khyberees from hill and sungahe[2] of their mountain chain, and, with a trifling loss, stood inside the barriers of Afghanistan, and within a few marches of Jellalabad; but Sale's daring band of warriors had provided for their own safety. Their bastions had sunk into dust before the earthquake, which rolled from the mountains of the Indian Caucasus across the Punjaub and into the heart of India; but, undaunted in heart and resolution, the garrison of Jellalabad opposed their breasts to the enemy, whilst the workmen repaired the damages: and let Akbar Khan (the treacherous and cold-blooded assassin) and the remnant of his twenty thousand companions in arms, bear witness to the unimpaired energy and courage of the garrison of Jellalabad. Heedless of the approaching reinforcements from India, they sallied, scarce two thousand in number, from the gates of their fortress, piercing the centre of the Afghan hosts, where the flashing sabre and deadly bayonet inflicted a partial retribution on their enemies, still reeking with the blood of the Caubul Tragedy.
That victory was purchased with the life of the heroic Dennie.[3] But where, save on the battle-field, should the soldier hope to fall, and when can the dart of death be more welcome to the warrior's breast than when, falling in the arms of victory, he feels the immortal laurel wreath rest lightly on his brow? Maligned by those who were jealous of his fame and acquirements, he fell in the vigour of manhood, and we may sadly concur with the panegyrist of Moore, in exclaiming—
"Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone,
And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him;
But nothing he'll reck if they let him sleep on
In the grave where a Briton has laid him."
I can neither envy nor estimate the feelings which must have occupied the hearts of his invidious traducers, (and one especially, high in rank and authority, though ennobled only by name,) when the deeds and fate of the talented and lion-hearted Dennie wrung from the senate of England, after his death, that well-merited tribute which had not fallen to his lot during a life of gallant exploits, hardships, and sufferings.
The simultaneous advances of Generals Pollock and Nott from Jellalabad and Kandahar, were almost daily marked by the defeat or flight of the savage tribes who had aided in the massacre of the ill-fated garrison of Caubul. Ghuzni was not defended a second time, but evacuated on the approach of Nott, who dismantled its blood-stained fortifications, and thence moved, unopposed, to unite his army with Pollock's at Caubul. The tribes under Akbar Khan were more resolute in their defence; but light mountain troops, without artillery, and ignorant even of the most simple methods of rendering their passes more difficult of approach, present but a contemptible barrier to a well-organized and effective army. Marching over the heights, which were strewn with the mangled corpses of their ill-fated comrades, peals of British musketry rung a tardy death-knell to their memories, but wrote the epitaph in the blood of their assassins.
Leaving Khoord Caubul, the most formidable barrier to the metropolis, undefended, Akbar and his forces fled from the field of Tezeen, and left the country again in the hands of the British conquerors.
The capture of Istalif closed the three years' tragedy enacted amidst the rugged defiles of Afghanistan.
The unexpected release of the prisoners crowned the successes of this fortunate expedition; and it now remained only to retire, with as good a grace as possible, from a country where the most extraordinary vagary which had ever invaded the head of civilized man had originally conducted the army of the Indus.
As a last memento of the British invasion, the arched bazaars of the city of Caubul were destroyed, and buried in a confused mass of blackened ruins. This has always appeared to me rather a wanton mode of exciting the hostility of the harmless bunneahs[4] of Caubul against us: for the insurrection and its concomitant disasters arose not amongst the mercantile community of Caubul, but amongst the warlike mountain tribes. To punish the unfortunate house-owners of the bazaars, was not a dignified retaliation for our losses.
In November, 1842, the united forces quitted the metropolis of the Afghans, leaving the inhabitants of these barbarous regions to their wonted occupation of cutting each other's throats ad libitum. That soil can surely never flourish, which is eternally watered with human blood. The earliest records of Afghan history present to us the same prevalence of murderous tastes, from the days of Sinkol, the contemporary of Romulus, throughout the Middle Ages, down to the year of our Lord, eighteen hundred and forty-two, when the British Government wisely resolved to have nothing more to do with Afghanistan.
Were the invasion of that country a measure conducive to our interests, it follows that the occupation thereof must have been necessary, in order to render it a bulwark against the nations lying to the north-west, of whom, in 1838, such unnecessary apprehensions were entertained. As this measure required a large subsidiary force to be maintained in the country, entailing a consequent augmentation of our army in the East, which was not convenient to the wishes or coffers of the Anglo-Indian Government, there cannot exist a doubt of the wisdom of Lord Ellenborough's administration in correcting the errors of his predecessor, and withdrawing the army from a country which was never likely to become a profitable territory.
The question of its advantages as a military position, may form a theoretical subject for discussion; but practically, the utter inability of the country to pay and maintain a large subsidiary force, and the impracticability of the exhausted revenues of India furnishing the sinews of war, sets the question at rest.
The finishing stroke yet required to be put to the Afghan policy, in disposing of Dost Mahomed, who had remained for some time in our hands; but now that his country was no longer an object of interest, of course the ex-king was less so. The release of that monarch, and his return to the throne—to hurl him from which had impoverished India, besides draining it of some of its best blood, was the practical and final satire on the Caubul campaign.
I have not been diffuse in entering on minute details of the losses experienced on our march into that country, because I cannot flatter myself that the subject possesses sufficient general interest; but should any one have any curiosity regarding the number of men, camels, horses, bullocks, and asses that died during the first campaign, together with the minutest particulars, more than the most inquisitive disciple of Hume could require, let him not languish in ignorance, for are they not written in the Book of Hough?
Our questionable allies, the Sikhs, having been a cause of some disquietude, it was thought prudent to assemble a large force on the north-west frontier, at the close of the year 1842, which was denominated the "Army of Reserve." This force, encamped on the banks of the Sutlej, in the vicinity of Ferozepore, awaited the return of the victorious troops from Afghanistan, and Lord Ellenborough was present in person to welcome the arrival of the Caubul warriors under a triumphal arch which he had caused to be erected at the extremity of a bridge of boats thrown across the Sutlej. The united forces, when Generals Nott and Pollock had joined us, exceeded forty thousand men; and thus the nations of the East were shown that Afghanistan was not abandoned owing to any weakness in a military point of view.
After two reviews of the army on the frontier, at which some of the Sikh Durbar were present, in the beginning of January, 1843, the army was broken up, and marched to their cantonments in Bengal.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Ghuzni, with its garrison, under command of Colonel Palmer, fell into the enemy's hands.
[2] The sungah is a stockade of loose stones, thrown up on the hill-side, or crest.
[3] Colonel Dennie, of H. M. 13th Light Infantry, was killed by a matchlock ball from a fort which he stormed when this sally was made.
[4] Shopkeepers.
VISIT TO AGRA—JOURNEY THROUGH CENTRAL INDIA VIA GWALIOR, AND INDORE TO BOMBAY.
All chance of active service in India being apparently over, I availed myself of leave of absence, and began preparations for my journey towards Bombay. The route through central India, from Delhi or Agra, was at that time rarely travelled, and presented numerous attractions from the accounts I had read of its wild country and inhabitants. I was fortunate enough to find four acquaintances, who were also about to proceed homewards, and desirous of taking the nearest road, as the season was now far advanced, and the heat a little later becomes severe. Having appointed Agra as our rendezvous, I proceeded, with my valued friend L—— in advance. Our marching establishment to Delhi consisted of our riding-ponies and three camels, to carry our baggage, which, on arrival at that city, we agreed to reduce to the least possible compass. Having traversed the rich tract of country lying between Kurnaul and Delhi, we arrived on the fourth morning at that city. We now reduced our baggage to a pair of light boxes each; and leaving our tents, ponies, and other encumbrances, got into our palanquins, and at the usual rate of about four miles an hour, were jolted into Agra, and safely deposited under the verandah of our hospitable entertainer, Mr. A. Plowden, of the civil service.
During my sojourn in India, I had hitherto had no opportunity of visiting Agra, much and anxiously as I had wished to see its numerous objects of interest, but above all, the far-famed Taj Mahal.
The town itself presented little to interest the traveller; and having ridden through its narrow bazaars, we made a point, during the remainder of our stay, to avoid their unalluring precincts, even at the expense of an extra mile or two of ground.
The second evening of our residence, we petitioned our friend to delay no longer the visit to the Taj; and in accordance with our request, the dog-cart made its appearance, and I mounted beside our host, while L—— took up his place behind, to take charge, as he professed, of the whole concern. As we wound about the rocks in the suburbs of the city, the Jumna lay winding its tortuous course beneath us, and the summit of the glorious Taj suddenly opened on our view from amongst its graceful garland of thick cypress groves.
We had no time to express our admiration of the sight, for L——, who had been, as usual, overflowing with spirits the whole way, now exclaimed, as we were tearing along towards the monument at a pace which did credit to our little hack, "It matters more to you men of weight, physically speaking, than to me; but I do think there ought to be a linch-pin in the wheels of this uneasy machine."
Our host was turning round to make some rejoinder, when away spun the wheel in right earnest, and each occupant took involuntarily a line of country of his own. Fortunately for us, the road was some two feet deep in very fine dust, and we rested unharmed, though rather bewildered, on its woolly surface. After a few seconds, we all wheeled about, and meeting face to face, burst into laughter at each other's ludicrous appearance.
In the midst of our merriment, a britzka drove rapidly round the corner, and pulled up beside us, when we were rejoiced to find that its fair tenant was our hostess. Having committed the damaged cart to the charge of two sable attendants, we proceeded to our destination in the britzka, though not before L—— had carefully inspected the linch-pins of the carriage.
The shades of evening were thickening fast around us as we drew up at the archway, where it is necessary to dismount, and proceed on foot into the gardens of the Taj. Strolling on through avenues of cypress, speckled occasionally with basins of white marble amongst the evergreens which surround them, we arrived at the foot of the square platform on which the monument rests, at each angle of which rose an elaborately carved minaret.
The Taj itself is built entirely of white marble, and conveyed to my senses the very poetry of architecture. A good drawing might convey a better idea of its exterior than any amount of description could effect; but I have never seen one which at all satisfied me. The interior of the edifice, which is octagonal, and inlaid with mosaic of precious stones representing fruits and flowers, no drawing could ever do justice to. In the centre, surrounded by a screen of exquisitely-wrought white marble fretwork, stand beside each other the tombs of Shah Jehan and his sultana, Mumtaza ZemÂni. As we gazed with solemn and mute admiration on the glorious objects around us, feeling that she who had stood unrivalled amongst the favourites of the East while living, had prevailed even beyond the grave in tenanting a resting-place which asserts an easy superiority over the handiworks of the children of men, a low strain of music arising from the waters of the Jumna poured its soft melody through the gratings of the edifice, and echoed in gently-repeated harmony along the roof.
As the last faint notes died away, we gradually awoke to the world around us, which we had long before quitted for the realms of imagination, and were almost startled by the tones of a human voice informing us that the music was of this earth, and had been provided for the occasion by our considerate host.
Never will be obliterated those happy hours from my memory, which I passed wandering amongst the groves and terraces of that type of symmetrical beauty. I have often thought, that should any immoderate afflictions fall to my lot in after life, I would make a pilgrimage to this spot; and there, though oblivion might be denied, yet, under the soothing influence of such a scene, the mind must be rendered more qualified to ascend from the highest and most perfect works of men to the throne of Him who controls their destinies.
Never having been a very enthusiastic admirer of architecture, and cordially admitting that "God made the country, man the town," I approached the Taj, dishonestly prejudiced against it, especially as I had heard the united voices of men raised in its favour; but no sooner had sufficient time been allowed for the mind to comprehend all its beauties, than I succumbed, and became a most passionate admirer of the Eastern sultana, so lovely in death.
Afterwards, we visited many other beautiful structures in the vicinity of Agra, especially the tomb and gardens of the Emperor Akbar; but we ought to have visited them first, for it was now too late; my affections had been engaged, and were ever recurring to, and dwelling with, the absent beauty on the banks of the Jumna.
Nearly a week having now elapsed since our arrival at Agra, and the whole of our travelling-party being assembled, a council of war was called, to debate on our future proceedings. It was ascertained, that in Agra barely a hundred men could be mustered to accompany us, as palanquin-bearers, across to Indore; and as thirty were required for each palanquin to carry it and our baggage an average rate of thirty miles a day, it became necessary to divide our party, two procuring horses and ponies for the transport of themselves and impedimenta, as the Romans appropriately termed it; and three, including Colonel L——, my friend L——, and myself, proceeding with the main body of Palkee bearers. We could only procure one servant to accompany us, (for the natives of Bengal seldom migrate to Bombay,) and the restless and untiring Dereah undertook that arduous office on the understanding that we provided him with treble wages, and a pony for the transport of his almost imperceptible person.
All arrangements having been completed, we left the sacred city, on the evening of the 10th of February, accompanied by as yelling and motley a crew of gentlemen in black as ever followed the track of a roving band of Pindarrees.
After numerous stoppages during the night, and angry expostulations with our detainers for the delay, and waste of strength by thus interrupting our rest, we arrived at Dholpore, a distance of about thirty-five miles, early next morning.
The Rajah of Dholpore, who resided near the stage bungalow where we halted, very politely sent us a present of rice, milk, fowls, and sweet-meats, for which we returned our hearty thanks, having nothing more valuable to offer, and we hoped few things could have been more acceptable.
At Dholpore we held a council to arrange plans for directing, with some regularity, the movements of our numerous forces, which, in their present state of anarchy, were not so effective as could be wished. Colonel L—— was unanimously elected as our commander-in-chief. Captain S—— was appointed quartermaster-general, and I was nominated to the united duties of adjutant-general and military secretary. Major L—— was appointed to superintend and represent the infantry, and, being unhappily very badly off for cavalry, Captain U—— undertook to represent that important branch of the service, and forthwith assumed command of the cook, Dereah; but to this an immediate objection was made, the commander-in-chief claiming him as a private orderly.
It now occurred to us that a most material omission had been made in neglecting to provide any artillery; but, after much deliberation, this difficulty was removed by Major L—— kindly volunteering to officiate also in that capacity. This offer was accepted by universal acclamation, as that gallant officer wore in his belt a pistol in proportion to his own stature, and was moreover known to have made as much noise since he came into the world as qualified him to compete, in that respect, with the artillery of the whole British army.
Leaving Dholpore in the evening, and walking most part of the way, for the road was very wild and rugged, we arrived, late at night, on the banks of the river Chumbul. After a detention of many hours, in consequence of no notice having been sent to the ferry, we were, early in the morning, transported across under the auspices of a boatman, who we agreed must have been Charon's representative on earth, for a more grim and ungainly looking savage I never beheld. He either could not or would not use his tongue, answering our inquiries about the road with impatient gestures. Giving him the benefit of the doubt about the use of his tongue, he escaped chastisement.
We reached the city of Gwalior about mid-day, and were kindly entertained at the house of the British resident, Colonel Spiers.
A few days before our arrival, the King of Gwalior had died, and, as usual, in states not completely under British control in India, this event caused a great commotion, which did not subside before they had been embroiled with the British government[5] and taught to be quiet.
In the course of the day a Vakeel arrived from the Gwalior-court at Colonel Spiers' residence, and, hearing that we were about to proceed across the Gwalior territories, he volunteered to send with us an escort of Native Cavalry, who, he informed us, would be of use in procuring supplies from the villages, as also in acting as guides. We gladly accepted his offer, and, in the afternoon, quitted the residency with our savage-looking escort of Mahratta cavalry, dressed in flowing robes of cotton or silk of various colours, confined at the waist, with a coarse shawl or cotton kummurbund,[6] bound closely round the body, and furnished with an armoury of crooked knives and long pistols. Their legs were ensconced in long deerskin boots, and their heads in steel semicircular helmets, with a loose piece of chain armour attached and hanging over the shoulders. In the heat of the day a part of the silk or cotton round the waist was detached, and bound over the helmet to protect the wearer from the rays of the sun, which, striking on the polished steel, would have rendered it nearly intolerable. Behind their backs were slung matchlocks of great length of barrel; and in their hands, or thrown loosely on the hollow of the shoulder, were lances, calculated to reach an enemy at about ordinary pistol-shot range. We now really began to feel that we were an army, and, on entering on the duties of office, I received orders from the commander-in-chief, of the most peremptory nature, to take care that he was always provided with milk for breakfast. This duty I assigned to the most brawny looking warrior in our escort, and he received the order with as much gravity as if I had desired him to charge a host of Pindarrees.
Passing the fortress of Gwalior, constructed on a rocky eminence, we wound about the city, which is prettily situated beneath a semicircle of low hills, and appeared to have been built with more attention to substantial comfort and cleanliness than is generally bestowed on eastern cities. In the north-western quarter, where the cantonments are situated, the ground was laid out in large squares for parades, and shaded by rows of fruit trees fronting each side.
Having walked nearly five hours, enjoying the beautiful and temperate night, in company with my friend L——, we ascended our palanquins, and woke not till the sun was high next morning, when we put up, during the heat of the day, under the friendly shade of a banyan tree, and beside a small village, where, alas! no milk was procurable for the commander-in-chief's breakfast. My Mahratta friend brought two of the chiefs of the village at the point of his spear, who, after numerous salaams, protested most earnestly that there were no goats in their village to afford milk; and, after earnest protestations of their poverty, they were silent, and looked like condemned criminals. I told them it was a most grave offence they had committed, in not having or procuring any milk; but, being disposed to leniency, I would overlook the offence if they brought immediately some fresh eggs. This was at once complied with, and the village delinquents, having received payment for the same, retired overjoyed at this unexpected munificence. The commander-in-chief's resentment was in some measure appeased by using a fresh egg as a substitute for milk; and a young peacock and a brace of partridges, which I shot in time to be placed in Dereah's hands for breakfast, earned a full pardon.
We continued to traverse a bare rocky country for many leagues, travelling all night, and putting up, during the heat of the day, under some friendly tree or shed, where, with the produce of my gun, and the assistance of collections made by our escort in the villages, (when any were met with, but here they were few and far between) we reached the cantonment of Sipree on the 15th of February. The Sipree contingent were absent on active service, in the jungles of Bundelkund; but we put up at the house of one of the officers, which was situated on a hill commanding an extensive view over the bare country, and where the breeze whistled most musically along the verandahs.
The character of the country we now traversed was the opposite to that of Bengal: high and rocky hills skirted us on each side, and occasionally crossed our route: now, we plunged into a dense and apparently endless jungle, from which we suddenly emerged on a tract intersected by ravines, which nearly broke our palanquin bearers' hearts.
The most unaccountable animals of our party were the cook, Dereah, and his little Agra pony, which was rarely known to feed during our toilsome journey. The cook, his master, was certainly never found napping except during one hour previous to our evening meal, whilst the pea-fowl soup was simmering on the embers, and both readily and cheerfully resumed their route, as if that was the only really important object of their lives.
At the frontiers of Scindiah, our escort was relieved by another cavalcade of similar strength, who proved equally useful; and the commandant seemed much offended at our tender of money for their services. He requested we would give him a note to testify that all had faithfully discharged their duty; which was, of course, done.
At length, we reached Indore, which was about half-way to Bombay, and had, by this time, become thoroughly weary of our narrow palanquin abodes.
On our arrival at Indore, we found that Sir Claude Wade, the British resident, was absent on a tour of inspection in the jungles, but we were taken charge of by Dr. Bruce, the medical attachÉ of the residency, and we required much at the hands of our kind host.
I do not remember having seen any place in India bearing a resemblance to Indore. The residency is a magnificent building, situated on a rising ground, and overlooking a country which resembled an English park, in its pastures, trees, and evergreens. The trees looked thoroughly English; the turf, though something of a bilious hue, deserved the name; and the deer which speckled it completed the picture we had been drawing in our imaginations of some English grandee's residence. Nor was there anything to interfere with the comparison, until, arriving at the hall, you were greeted by a challenge from the Sepoy sentry, an incident decidedly at variance with an English landscape.
Having remained two days at Dr. Bruce's house, we proceeded to Mhow, about fourteen miles distant, the frontier station of the troops in the Bombay Presidency, where we put up at a stage bungalow built by Government for the convenience of travellers. Bungalows are shortly to be constructed at regular intervals along the whole road which we have traversed. Our palanquin bearers refused to proceed any further, save at an exorbitant rate, whereupon L—— and I quietly paid our people their demands, and requested them to depart in peace, adding that we would seek more useful and expeditious means of proceeding. Colonel L——, unfortunately, had suffered much from fatigue; he consequently retained all his people, and proceeded with the other half of our party, who were provided with ponies, whilst L—— and I started off to the bazaar to see what means of conveyance were procurable. We found a Parsee merchant, with whom we made friends by making some purchases, and were by him introduced to a great proprietor of ponies, who engaged to carry all that was required by us, ourselves included, as far as Dhoolia cantonments, whence, we were informed, bullock-carts might be obtained to take us on to Kirkee, which was our destination for the present.
We continued our journey, mostly on foot, over the wild and beautiful Ghauts, on this frontier, and in a few days came to a regular chain of stage bungalows, which afforded us comparative luxuries, after our long sojourn amongst sheds and native serais. After a weary journey in bullock-carts, we reached Ahmednuggur, from whence one night's ride, with relays of horses furnished by our friends at the latter station, brought us to Kirkee, where I met with a friend, to visit whom had been the principal object of my expedition to this part of the world.
To this meeting I had long looked forward with much delight, for there is no happiness to which this life has treated me, surpassing, in my estimation, that of meeting with a dearly-loved friend after a long separation. Upwards of seven years had elapsed since we parted. We had each been wandering in various parts of this beautiful world; we had passed from the embryo period of life to manhood; and I firmly believe our friendship had lasted untainted by experience and intercourse with the rough edges of the world; an attrition which is apt to render the patient too callous to understand the true meaning of friendship.
I dwell with fond but mournful reflection on that meeting, for, alas, it cannot be repeated on this side of the grave! A few months after I had quitted India, my noble and highly-gifted friend met with a sudden and tragical death. The trigger of a pistol, incautiously handled, was touched, and the fatal slip of the thumb off the hammer, destroyed, in a few seconds, one of the noblest of mankind. Possessing a mind of gigantic natural ability, aided by an accurate and retentive memory, and great power of application, he was qualified to be an ornament to any profession or country. With pride and confidence I looked forward to a future brilliant career, when his capacity should be known to those who might have the means of serving him and his country by its development. But in the enjoyment of robust health, and unrivalled bodily strength, the irresistible arm of Destiny interposed and led him to the grave.
"Ω, πολυπονοι, πολυσονοι, γενος εφαμεοὡν
Αευσσεθ' ωζ παῥ ελπιδαϛ ἡ μοιοα ζαινει
Και βροτὡν πας ασταθμητος αιων."
Farewell, for ever, my fondly-valued, Sydney! Though in this world we shall not meet again, I yet shall never part with your image; in contemplating which I shall learn to admire and reverence a character in strange contrast with the result of daily experience—a character surpassing in reality those imaginative sketches on the monuments of the posthumous successors to virtue, or the titled inheritors of greatness they never earned, who are flattered into the presence of their God with a lying epitaph, when—
"On the tomb is seen,
Not what they were, but what they should have been."
If a life of stern and undeviating integrity, and a practice of the duties enjoined to man by Him who made the stars, afford hopes of immortality, Sydney, you alone, of those with whose characters I have been conversant, possess an irreproachable title.