You must not be alarmed by the accounts you will see in the papers by this mail of the advance of two forces from Lahore 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 brass 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 Lahore 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 pass 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 Lahore 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, sturdy, 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 asserted 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 circumstances. 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 vassal of the Lahore 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.