G. gave this morning the usual khelwuts of 1,000 rupees to all Runjeet’s sirdars; the exchange will be a dead loss to the Company, and will eventually be the death of C. Runjeet’s presents to G. were his picture set in diamonds, with two rows of pearls; a sword, matchlock, and belt, much bejewelled; a pair of shawls embroidered in seed-pearl, and the usual accompaniments—nothing very handsome.
When the distribution was ended, Runjeet said to G., ‘Now speak some words of friendship to me.’ So then G. made his farewell, and ended by saying he hoped Runjeet would wear a parting gift he had brought—that bunch of emerald grapes we got at Simla.
They produced a great effect. Kurruck Singh and Noor Mahal, who were sitting on the other side of me, got up to see them, and there was a murmur of applause, which is unusual at a durbar. Runjeet asked if G. had any request to make to him; and G. said only one more, that he would occasionally wear the ring he was going to put on his finger, and he produced the ring, made of one immense diamond, that was sent up from Calcutta on speculation. It nearly covered Runjeet’s little finger, and it was quite odd to see the effect it had on the old man. He raised himself quite up, and called for a candle to put behind it, and seemed quite taken by surprise; and the gentlemen said that they overheard all the Sikhs commenting on the generosity of the Governor-General, and the real friendship he must have for the Maharajah to give him such presents. Runjeet took a most tender farewell of us; and so now that is done.
Monday, Dec. 31.
After church, yesterday, Runjeet sent his treasures down with his great diamond, ‘the Light of the World,’ which I did not see when the others saw it. It is very large, but not very bright. There were also some immense emeralds—some of those we had seen on the horses—and some enormous rubies. It was a curious sight. G.’s presents, however, looked very handsome, even amongst all these; and the treasurer said Runjeet had had them in the morning to show to his chiefs, and that some of them had advised him to have the grapes made into a rosary, but he said he never would have it altered; it should always be shown as a proof of the Governor-General’s generosity, just as he gave it to him. The ring, which did not cost so much, the Sikhs, however, value still more.
In the afternoon, F. and I went to pay our visit to Mrs. Shere Singh. Shere Singh thought it had been given up, and has been teasing E.’s heart out about it. It would have been ill-natured not to go, and, moreover, we should have missed a very pretty sight. We have never been to any of their tents. Pertâb came to fetch us. The tents are very near ours, and very showy-looking—all red and white stripes.
We were received with a very noisy salute, and all his own goocherras, in their fancy dresses, were drawn up on each side of some fine shawl carpets. Shere Singh was a mass of gold and jewels himself, and it was a fine sight to see him come to the entrance, with all his people about him.
We went first to a little tent, where we left E. and the two aides-de-camp, and which was fitted up very like an English drawing-room, full of plate, and musical-boxes, and china. I suppose the French officers have taught him how to arrange a room; indeed, General A. brought him most of the things. He went into an inner tent, and fetched out two wives—Pertâb’s mother, who is the chief ranee, and a second wife, who was immensely fat, and rather ugly; but Pertâb’s mother was one of the prettiest little creatures I ever saw, very like Jenny Vertpré, but with the longest almond-eyes in the world, and with hands like a little child’s. They were dressed just like Runjeet’s ranees, but were much more talkative, and we stayed a long time with them, Rosina interpreting. I told her that Shere Singh had made me a present of Pertâb, and that I hoped she would let me take him to England. And she took it seriously; the tears came into those large eyes, and she said, ‘You have other amusements, and you are going back to your own country; there are four of us, and our only happiness is to see Pertâb; in another country he would be as dead!’ and then she put her little arms around him, and kissed him, and the other fat wife gave him a hug, and said she should die without him. The mother looked like a little girl herself. They gave us splendid presents, much finer than any of Runjeet’s, and showed off all their own nicknackeries, and wanted us very much to come again, but we march to-morrow. I should like to see some of these high-caste ladies several times, without all this nonsense of presents, &c., but so as to hear their story, and their way of life, and their thoughts. She did not seem at all afraid of Shere Singh, which is very unusual, and I believe does not see much of him.
New Year’s Day.
There! we left Lahore yesterday; we have made two marches, and shall cross the river in four more; and now it appears this post is to go only eighteen days after the last. This is a good day for winding-up of a Journal.