Cross the Sutlege.
At noon, on the 26th of August, we left Fulour and marched to Lodiana, crossing the river Sutlege, or Hesudrus of antiquity. It is yet called Shittoodur or the Hundred Rivers by the natives, from the number of channels in which it divides itself. Where we passed, its breadth did not exceed 700 yards, though it had been swollen two days before our arrival. The greatest depth of soundings was eighteen feet, but the average was twelve. It is a less rapid river than the Beas. The waters of the Sutlege are colder than those of any of the Punjab rivers, probably from its great length of course, and running so far among snowy mountains. This river is variable in its channel, and often deserts one bank for the other. The country between it and the British Cantonment of Lodiana, is intersected by nullas, one of which, that runs past the camp, formed the bed of the Sutlege fifty years ago. This river is generally fordable after November. Lord Lake’s army crossed it in 1805, two miles above Lodiana; but the fords vary, and the watermen look for them annually before people attempt to cross, as there are many quicksands. When the Beas falls into the Sutlege, the united stream, called Garra, is no longer fordable. The boats of the Sutlege are of the same description as those on the Beas: there are seventeen of them at the Fulour ferry. The country between the Sutlege and Lodiana is very low, which I observed to be a characteristic of the left bank of this river, till it meets the mountains. One would expect to find this depressed tract of ground alluvial, but it is sandy.
Exiled Kings of Cabool.
At Lodiana, we met two individuals, who have exercised an influence on the Eastern world, now pensioners of the British, the ex-Kings of Cabool, Shah Zuman, and Shah Shooja-ool-Moolk. The ceremonial of our introduction to Shah Shooja corresponded nearly with that described by Mr. Elphinstone; for, in his exile, this fallen monarch has not relinquished the forms of royalty. The officers of his court still appear in the same fanciful caps, and on a signal given in Turkish, (ghachan, begone,) the guards run out of the presence, making a noise with their high-heeled boots. The person of the Shah himself has been so correctly described, that I have little to say on that subject. In his misfortunes, he retains the same dignity and prepossessing demeanour as when king. We found him seated on a chair in a shady part of his garden, and stood during the interview. He has become somewhat corpulent, and his expression is melancholy; but he talked much, and with great affability. He made many enquiries regarding Sinde, and the countries on the Indus, and said, that “he had rebuked the Ameers for their suspicion and jealousy of our intentions in coming to Lahore. Had I but my kingdom,” continued he, “how glad should I be to see an Englishman at Cabool, and to open the road between Europe and India.” The Shah then touched upon his own affairs, and spoke with ardent expectations of being soon able to retrieve his fortunes. In reply to one of his questions, I informed him that he had many well-wishers in Sinde. “Ah!” said he, “these sort of people are as bad as enemies; they profess strong friendship and allegiance, but they render me no assistance. They forget that I have a claim on them for two crores of rupees, the arrears of tribute.”
Reflections.
Shah Shooja was plainly dressed in a tunic of pink gauze, with a green velvet cap, something like a coronet, from which a few emeralds were suspended. There is much room for reflection on the vicissitudes of human life while visiting such a person. From what I learn, I do not believe the Shah possesses sufficient energy to seat himself on the throne of Cabool; and that if he did regain it, he has not the tact to discharge the duties of so difficult a situation.
Shah Zuman.
The brother of Shah Shooja, Shah Zuman, is an object of great compassion, from his age, appearance, and want of sight. We also visited him, and found him seated in a hall with but one attendant, who announced our being present, when the Shah looked up and bade us “Welcome.” He is stone blind, and cannot distinguish day from night; he was as talkative as his brother, and lamented that he could not pass the remainder of his days in his native land, where the heat was less oppressive.
Shah Zuman has lately sunk into a zealot: he passes the greater part of his time in listening to the Koran and its commentaries. Poor man, he is fortunate in deriving consolation from any source. When taking leave, Shah Zuman begged I would visit him before quitting Lodiana, as he was pleased at meeting a stranger. I did not fail to comply with his wishes, and saw him alone. I had thought that his age and misfortunes made him indifferent to all objects of political interest; but he asked me, in a most piteous manner, if I could not intercede with the Governor-general in behalf of his brother, and rescue him from his present exile. I assured him of the sympathy of our government, and said, that his brother should look to Sinde and the other provinces of the Dooranee empire for support; but he shook his head, and said the case was hopeless. After a short silence, the Shah told me that he had inflammation in the eyes, and begged I would look at them. He has suffered from this ever since his brother caused him to be blinded with a lancet. As he has advanced in years, the organ seems to have undergone a great change, and the black part of the eye has almost disappeared. It is impossible to look upon Shah Zuman without feelings of the purest pity; and, while in his presence, it is difficult to believe we behold that king, whose name, in the end of last century, shook Central Asia, and carried dread and terror along with it throughout our Indian possessions. Infirm, blind, and exiled, he now lives on the bounty of the British Government.
Journey to the Himalaya.