Visit to the Maharajah--His minister--Former revolutions--Thangal
Major.
After a day's rest I paid a visit to the Maharajah, having first
stipulated as to my proper reception. I was received by the Jubraj
(heir apparent) at the entrance to the private part of the palace,
and by the Maharajah a few paces from the entrance to the Durbar room
(hall of reception), and conducted by him to a seat opposite to his
own, with a table between us, his sons and officials being seated on
either side. I read the Viceroy's letter, informing the Maharajah of
my appointment, and, after a short conversation, during which my age
was asked (a question invariably put to European officers by Manipuris
of rank), I took my leave, and was escorted back to the place where
I was met on my arrival. I was favourably impressed by what I saw,
but I at once realised that I was on no bed of roses, and that I would
have to make a good fight to obtain and maintain my just influence with
the Durbar. The Maharajah had undoubtedly grievances against us, and I
felt that it was folly and injustice not to acknowledge these. At the
same time, he and his ministers had on some occasions taken advantage
of this state of affairs to behave in an unseemly way, and for this a
sharp rebuke had to be administered. The natural sense of injustice
is strong in mankind, and I saw that chafing under slights they had
received, and often magnifying them, it was necessary for me first to
acknowledge these, and try as far as possible to make amends, and then
to come down on them very sharply for having forgotten their position.
The Maharajah returned my visit, and we had one or two interviews
when we discussed affairs. I pointed out the extreme gravity of
resisting the British Government in any way, and we soon became
very friendly. Colonel McCulloch's introduction had been a great
advantage to me, and every one was inclined to give me credit for good
intentions, at the same time that every effort was made to restrict
my authority and influence.
The Maharajah was a rather thick-set man of about five feet five
inches in height and forty-five years of age. In India he would have
been called fair. He had the features of the Indo-Chinese race, and the
impassive face that generally goes with them, but which is often not so
marked in the Manipuris. He was far the ablest man in his dominions,
and a strong and capable ruler. He had a great taste for mechanical
arts of all kinds, and a vast fund of information which he had acquired
by questioning, for he questioned every one he met. English scientific
works were explained to him, and his researches extended even to the
anatomy of the human body, of which he had a very fair knowledge. He
had a taste for European articles, and owned a large assortment. He had
glass manufactured in his workshops, and once sent me a petroleum lamp,
every portion of which was made by his own artificers. His rule, for
such a strong man, was mild as compared with that of his predecessors,
and he thoroughly realised that his prosperity depended on his loyalty
to the British Government. At the same time, he was most tenacious
of his rights, and earnestly desired to preserve his country intact,
and to give us no excuse for annexing it.
The fear of tempting us to annex was so great that, once when I
thought of growing a little tea for my own consumption, he was much
agitated. I, as a matter of courtesy, first sent to ask him if he
had any objection to my growing a little, and, in reply, he sent an
official to beg me not to think of it. This man said, "The Maharajah
will supply you with all the tea you want free of cost, but begs you
not to think of growing it." The officer went on to explain, that
it was feared that, if I successfully demonstrated that tea could
be grown in Manipur tea planters would come up, and there would be a
cry for annexation! Certainly our annexation of the Muttuk country in
1840 justified the suspicion, and we cannot blame people for having
long memories.
The Jubraj, or heir apparent, was an amiable young man of twenty-six or
twenty-seven, with a pleasant smile which was wanting in his father. He
was of a weak character, although possessing some ability. Like
his father, he could speak Hindoostani, but both were ignorant of
English. Backed up and influenced by an honest and capable Political
Agent, he would probably have made an excellent ruler, and, had we
done our duty by him, he might now be at the head of a flourishing
little state, instead of having died an exile in Calcutta.
The next son, Wankai Rakpar, afterwards known as the "Regent" during
the recent troubles, was an ignorant, uncouth boor, who knew no
language but his own, and was quite unfitted for any responsible work;
he took little part in public affairs. The third known as Samoo Henjaba
(Master of the Elephants), was a clever, pleasant, sensible young man,
said by Thangal Major, no mean judge of character, to be the ablest
of the ten sons of the Maharajah. He died during my tenure of office.
The fourth son, Kotwal Koireng, who afterwards acquired an infamous
reputation as the "Senaputtee," was always a bad character, cruel,
coarse, and low minded. From early childhood he was given to foul
language, and was absolutely dangerous when he grew up. His mother
had been unfaithful to the Maharajah, who used to say that the son
was worthy of her. Colonel McCulloch had always disliked him as a boy.
None of the other six sons of the Maharajah were in my time mixed up
in public affairs, so I need not describe them, except that Pucca
Senna was the champion polo player, though not otherwise worthy of
notice. The practical ministers were Bularam Singh, or Sawai Jamba
Major, and Thangal Major. They were both faithful adherents of the
Maharajah, although the first who had once had much influence had
married the daughter of the former Rajah Nur Sing. He was nominally
the first in rank, but Thangal Major was rapidly gaining ground,
and viewed with increasing favour by the Maharajah.
I quote the following description of the Government of Manipur from an
article I wrote for The Nineteenth Century, by kind permission of the
editor. "The government of Manipur has always been a pure despotism
tempered by assassination and revolution. While he occupies the throne
the rajah is perfectly absolute. A minister may be all powerful,
and all the princes and people may tremble before him; for years he
may practically rule the rajah; but he is after all a cipher before
his sovereign, a single word from whom may send him into exile, make
him an outcast, or reduce him to the lowest rank. Yet with all this
power an obscure man may suddenly spring up, as if from the ground,
to assert himself to be of the blood royal, and gathering a large
party round him place himself on the throne. All this happened not
unfrequently in days gone by, when many were the rajahs murdered
or deposed. History tells us of rajahs being deposed, re-elected,
and deposed again."
There can be no doubt that in old days the people benefited by the
system of constant revolutions, as a rajah was obliged to keep in touch
with his subjects if he wished to occupy the throne for any length of
time, and many concessions were made to gain a strong following. The
average intelligence of the Manipuris being higher than that found
among the cultivators of many other native states, the people knew
what reforms to ask for, and often insisted on their being granted.
Nothing can be harder on the people of a native state, than for the
paramount power to hold a ruler on the throne with a firm grasp,
and protect him against internal revolution, and at the same time to
refrain from insisting on needful reform.
Chandra Kirtee Singh's long reign and strong government, were in many
ways a great benefit to the people, because he was a man of sound
sense, and though selfish and unscrupulous, naturally of a kindly
disposition, a fact proved by the few executions that took place in his
reign. In his earlier years he had the benefit of Colonel McCulloch's
good advice, enforced by his great influence. All the same there
can be no doubt that a little more interference judiciously applied,
would have vastly improved the state of affairs during the time he
occupied the throne. Of course an individual Political Agent might
bring about improvements in the administration, but these all rested
on his personal influence and lasted only while he remained. Had the
Government of India stepped in and exerted its authority they would
have been permanent.
Bularam Singh was a typical Manipuri in face and had good manners,
but he had no force of character, and gradually yielded to his more
able colleague. He was generally known as the Toolee-Hel major, i.e.,
the major or commander of the Hel regiment.
Thangal Major was a remarkable character, and had a chequered
history. His uncle had saved the life of Rajah Ghumbeer Singh (Chandra
Kirtee Singh's father), then a child, when his older brother Marjeet
attempted the murder of all his relations. Thangal Major was one of
the props of the throne when Ghumbeer Singh ascended it. He had been
introduced at Court at an early age, and accompanied the Rajah in
an expedition against the village of Thangal inhabited by a tribe
of Nagas. He was given the name Thangal in memory of the event. He
accompanied the old Ranee with her infant son Chandra Kirtee Singh
into exile, when she fled after attempting the Regent Nursing's
life while he was engaged in worship in the temple of Govindjee in
1844; had stayed with him and carefully watched over his childhood
and youth. When in 1850 the young Rajah came to Manipur to assert
his rights, Thangal accompanied him and greatly contributed to his
success. This naturally made him a favourite, and his bold, active,
energetic character always brought him to the front when hard or
dangerous work had to be done. For a time he fell into disfavour,
but Colonel McCulloch, recognising his strong and useful qualities,
and the fact that he was an exceedingly able man, interceded for him
with the Maharajah, and he again came to the front. In person he was
short and thickset, darker than the average of Manipuris, with piercing
eyes and rather a prominent nose, a pleasant and straightforward but
abrupt manner, and, though a very devoted and patriotic Manipuri,
was extremely partial to Europeans. He knew our ways well, and soon
took a man's measure. He was acquainted with every part of Manipur,
and, though ignorant of English, could point out any village in
the state, on an English map. In fact, he had studied geography in
every branch to enable him to defend the cause of Manipur against
the survey officers who were suspected by the Manipuris of wishing
to include all they could within British territory. He knew all our
technical terms such as "watershed" in English, and had gained much
credit for enabling the survey to carry on their work in 1872, when
the patriotic but ill-judged zeal of an older officer, Rooma Singh,
nearly brought about a rupture. Thangal Major's knowledge of us and
our customs, as well as of our moral code, was astonishing. He realised
the power of the British Government, and though he would resist us to
the utmost in the interests of Manipur, nothing would have induced
him to join in any plot against our rule in India. When I say that
he was unscrupulous and capable of anything, I only say that he was
what circumstances and education had made him, and would make any
man under similar conditions. He had not the polish of a native of
Western India, and had not had the advantage of English training that
many ministers in other states have. The internal administration of
Manipur had never been interfered with by us, and Thangal Major was
the strong able man of the old type. A strong and capable political
agent might do well with him, but a weak one would soon go to the
wall. He commanded the Toolee Nehah, and was often called by that
title, but was better known as Thangal Major.
One of my predecessors had quarrelled with Thangal Major, and this
had led to recrimination, and very unseemly conduct on the part of the
Durbar. This conduct I had rebuked as directed, but it was a question
as to how Thangal Major was to be dealt with. I was authorised to
demand his dismissal from office, and for some time he had not been
received by my two immediate predecessors. I made careful inquiries,
and feeling convinced that there was a good deal to be said on
Thangal's side, and that by careful management I should be able to
keep him well in hand, I sent for him. The old man, he was then sixty,
having been born in 1817, came in a quiet unostentatious way, and after
a severe rebuke, and receiving an ample apology from him, I forgave
him, and restored him to the position of minister in attendance upon
me; and thenceforth I saw him daily, generally for an hour or two.
In addition to the Minister, two Subadars, Lowremba and Moirang,
were placed in attendance on me, but as time went on, and I and the
Durbar became friends, we transacted business in a friendly way,
through any one.