CONCLUSION.
The Events of 1890 and 1891.
When I first began this book it was my intention to have given a
connected account of the Palace Revolution of September 1890, and
that of 1891, against the British Government. Being probably the only
living person in full possession of the whole facts connected with
the startling events that then took place, and the circumstances that
led up to them, and having, moreover, a strong conviction that it
is best for all parties that the truth should be known, I felt that
a fair and impartial statement could do no harm, and might act as
a warning. Further reflection has led me to alter my determination,
and to ask myself the question, "Cui bono?" The Government of India
has shown no desire to make more disclosures than necessary, and it
is not for me, a loyal old servant, to lift the veil.
"Let the dead past bury its dead."
However much, therefore, I may wish to see the right horse saddled, I
shall for the present, at any rate, avoid criticism as far as possible,
and confine myself to a few general remarks.
Nothing that I can say will undo the past, and all that remains is
to hope for the future.
After I left Manipur fresh disturbances broke out in the Kubo valley,
where I had left all peaceful, prosperous, and contented, and a
considerable strain was put on the resources of Manipur. Had I been
ordered to return I would gladly have done so, but my health was
too bad to make it advisable for me to volunteer my services. [38]
I regret that I did not, as I might in that case have again urged
the claims of Manipur to have the Kubo valley restored to her, as she
had a right to expect that it would be; substantial hopes having been
on at least one occasion held out to her, and her many good services
and constant loyalty entitling her to consideration.
However, it was not to be; and in the summer of 1886 another misfortune
befell her, in the death of Maharajah Chandra Kirtee Singh. Perhaps,
like his father, Ghumbeer Singh, he was happy in the hour of his
death, as he did not live to see the disgrace of his country, and
the ingratitude of our Government to his family.
Now was the grand opportunity for the Government and an able Political
Agent to step in and make the many needful reforms, and introduce
necessary changes, and instil a more modern spirit in keeping with the
times, into the institutions of the country. Did we take advantage of
it? Of course we did not; but, true to our happy-go-lucky traditions,
let one precious opportunity after another pass by unheeded. Year after
year during my period of office had I struggled hard, and carried
on a never-ending fight for influence and prestige, with the strong
and capable old Chandra Kirtee Singh, gaining ground steadily; but
realising that, while I worked, the full advantage would be reaped
by that one of my successors who might chance to be in office when
my old friend closed his eventful life. At such a time, in addition
to the result of my labours, a weaker occupant of the throne would
afford many opportunities such as were not vouchsafed to me, and now
the time had arrived when we might have worked unimpeded for the good
of all classes.
Soor Chandra Singh, the former Jubraj, or heir apparent, succeeded
his father, a good, amiable man, with plenty of ability, but very
weak. He was loyal to the British Government, and had on several
occasions given strong proof of it, and he was much respected by his
own people. Had he been taken in hand properly all would have been
well, but the Government of India seems never to have realised that
excessive care and caution were necessary. The records of the past
plainly showed that the appointment of a Political Agent was always
a difficult one to fill satisfactorily, but no pains seem to have
been at any time taken to find a suitable man; if one happened to be
appointed, it was a matter of chance, and the post seems generally
to have been put up to a kind of Dutch auction. On one occasion I
believe that an officer, who was at the time doing well, and liked
the place, was taken away, and another, who did not wish to go,
sent up, to die within a month of a long-standing complaint. For all
this, of course the Foreign Office must be held responsible, as it
had a long traditional knowledge of Manipur; and though its powers
were delegated to the Chief Commissioner of Assam, it should have
ascertained that that officer was capable of making a good selection,
and had an officer under him fit for the appointment. The work may not
have been of a nature requiring the very highest class of intellect,
but it certainly did require a rather rare combination of qualities,
together with one indispensable to make a good officer, namely,
a real love for the work, the country, and the people. My immediate
successor had these latter qualities, but he died of wounds received
within six weeks of my leaving. [39]
It is to be regretted, also, that the Government of India acts so much
on the principle that the private claims of some of its servants should
be considered before the claims of the State generally, and the people
over whom they are put, in particular. It seems to be thought that
the great object, in many cases, is to secure a certain amount of pay
to an individual, quite irrespective of his qualifications, rather
than to seek out an officer in every way competent to administer
a great province, and satisfy the requirements of its people. I
say this especially with reference to Assam. Few provinces of India
require more special qualities in its ruler, containing, as it does,
many races of different grades of civilisation; the situation being
further complicated by the presence of a large European population of
tea-planters. These, by their energy and the judicious application of a
large amount of capital, have raised it to a great pitch of prosperity,
and they naturally require to be dealt with in a different way to
their less civilised native fellow-subjects.
An officer may be an admirable accountant, or very well able to
decide between two litigants, or, may be, to look after stamps and
stationery; but without special administrative experience, or those
abilities which enable a genius to grasp any subject he takes up,
he cannot be considered fit to be trusted with the government of a
great and flourishing province. His claims as regards pay should not
be allowed to weigh at all with the Government of India; it is unjust
to the people, and would be cheaper to give an enhanced pension than
ruin a province. Yet it cannot be denied that the considerations
I have referred to, do prevail, and that the Manipur disaster was,
in a great measure, due to the system, and that with proper care it
could never have happened.
When I was in Manipur no European could enter the state without
obtaining the permission of the Durbar through the Political Agent, and
the Maharajah, very wisely, did his utmost to discourage such visitors,
unless they were friends of the latter. Orchid collectors, and such
like, were rigorously excluded, wisely, again I say, considering the
havoc wrought by selfish traders with these lovely denizens of the
forests of Manipur and Burmah, and when the Burmese war broke out,
very few were those of our countrymen who had visited the interesting
little state. As for myself I quite sympathised with the Maharajah and
I even said a word on behalf of the Sungai (swamp deer) peculiar to
Manipur and Burmah, and advised him to preserve it strictly. I fear it
must be extinct in Manipur by this time. The Burmese war changed all
this; troops poured through the country, and European officers were
constantly passing to and fro, much to the annoyance of the Durbar. Of
course, a stay-at-home Englishman will hardly understand this, but to
anyone knowing natives of India well, it is self-evident, a European
cannot go through a state like Manipur where suspicion reigns rampant,
and where people are wedded to their own peculiar ways, without causing
a great deal of trouble. All sorts of things have to be provided for
him, and though he pays liberally, some one suffers. The presence
of one or two Europeans constantly moving about would no doubt in
itself be a source of annoyance to the high officials of Manipur,
who would always suspect them of making enquiries with a view to an
unfavourable report to Government. All natives of India are suspicious,
and this remark applies with tenfold force to Manipuris.
It cannot, I fear, be denied, that as a race we are a little careless
of the feelings of others. It is possibly due in a great measure
to our insularity; but, whatever be the cause, it is an undesirable
quality to possess. With a regiment of Native Infantry stationed at
Langthabal to support our authority, our prestige ought to have rapidly
increased; apparently the reverse was the case, and from time to time
incidents occurred, which indicated how events were drifting. On one
occasion some sepoys of the Political Agent's escort were hustled
and beaten by some Manipuris at a public festival, and on another the
man carrying the Government mail bag between Imphal and Langthabal,
was stopped and robbed of the mails. Everything seemed to show that
our position was not what it had been. In former days such things
could not have happened.
Kotwal Koireng had always been a bad character, and had for years
been under a cloud. Had I remained in Manipur I should have turned
him out when the Maharajah his father died, and reported the matter
to Government. He was allowed to remain, and proved the ruin of
the state. His blood-thirsty nature soon showed itself, and he
half-roasted two men after a most cruel flogging, the Maharajah
was asked to turn him out of the state, and would probably have
consented, but just at the time a European sergeant shot a cow, the
sacred animal of the Hindoos, an outrage far exceeding any that our
imagination can paint, and the Rajah in his wrath flatly refused to
punish his brother, while such a fearful crime as cow killing, was
allowed to pass unnoticed. Of course the last was an untoward event,
that should never have occurred. We ought not to allow uncultured
Europeans likely to be careless of native feeling and susceptibilities
to enter a state so full of prejudice and suspicion as Manipur.
Thus events followed one another in rapid succession, signs every
now and then appearing which showed that all was not as quiet as
it seemed. I heard from time to time things that made me uneasy,
as I gathered that Kotwal Koireng, now become Senaputtee or
Commander-in-Chief, had much power and influence, and I felt sure
that he would soon make an attempt to oust his brother, the Maharajah.
At last the attempt was made. In September, 1890, the Maharajah Soor
Chandra Singh was attacked in his palace at night, and driven out. He
fled to Cachar and having petitioned the Government of India for
his restoration, proceeded to Calcutta. The case was a simple one,
a palace revolution had occurred and our nominee whose succession
and whose throne we had guaranteed, had been deposed. The course to
be adopted by Government was as clear as the day, Soor Chandra Singh
should have been restored at once and the usurper severely punished
for insulting the majesty of the British Government. Nothing of the
kind was done. It was decided, on what grounds I know not, to break
our pledged word; the Maharajah was to be exiled with a pittance for
his support; his stupid boorish brother who had been set up as puppet
by the Senaputtee was to be Rajah; while the evil genius of Manipur,
the treacherous Senaputtee, was to be exiled. The Government of India
then ordered the Chief Commissioner of Assam to proceed to Manipur
and carry out their decision, including the Senaputtee's arrest.
It is difficult to say which showed the greatest want of wisdom,
the Government in issuing such an order, or the Chief Commissioner
in accepting such a mission, quite derogatory to one of such high
rank. We all know how it ended. The less said about it the better,
it reflects no credit on us. [40]
With one or two things, however, I am concerned, and one of these
is the sentence on Thangal Major, or General as he was called; in
the correspondence usually ignorantly referred to, as "The Thangal
General," a misnomer, Thangal being a name and not a title. This old
man seventy-four years of age had long almost retired into private
life. He was a devoted follower of Soor Chandra Singh, and hated
the Senaputtee whose evil influence he always feared would wreck
Manipur. This probably made the latter recall him to public life, so
as to keep him under his eye; anyhow, he was by force of circumstances
obliged, however unwillingly, to act as a loyal subject of his own
de facto chief.
I have said so much about the old man, that his character will be
well understood. He was a strong, able, unscrupulous man, not likely
to stick at trifles, and, like most Asiatics of his type, capable
of anything. This does not, however, mean that he was worse than his
neighbours, our characters are made by our surroundings, and in Manipur
the surroundings are not of an elevating nature. Thangal was in many
ways kind hearted, in others ruthless, and for the moment cruel,
his wrath flared up and, except when kept aglow for policy's sake,
soon burned itself out.
When first I heard of the outbreak I made two predictions, both proved
to be true. One of these was that, whoever was guilty, Thangal Major
would be accused. I never did think him guilty by premeditation,
but I knew that, as for so long a time he was the strong head of
the executive, he was not loved, and that to save the Senaputtee,
whom I of course at once pitched upon as the "fons et origo" of the
rebellion, and who like all of the blood royal was looked upon as
semi-divine, he would be accused. I read the evidence published,
which I can quite understand appeared conclusive to the tribunal
before which he was tried; reading between the lines, however, with a
thorough knowledge of Manipur as I was able to do, it gave me quite a
different impression. Knowing the old man so intimately as I did, his
way of talking and his way of acting, I am convinced that he was in no
way a willing accessory to the rebellion, that he in no way connived
at the invitation to our officers to enter the palace at night, and
further that he never suggested or consented to their murder! The
whole proceeding was so totally opposed to his policy that he would
never have sanctioned such an act of folly, to say the least. The
Senaputtee richly deserved all he got and more. An unscrupulous and
selfish butcher by nature he played his cards badly and when he lost,
determined to involve his whole family and loyal dependents in the ruin
which his own insensate folly had brought on him. I quite acknowledge
old Thangal's many faults, but I also remember his good qualities,
and shall ever regret that he came to such an untimely end.
As regards the disposition of the throne I have a word to
say. Recognising as I do the necessity of maintaining the firmness of
our rule and prestige to the utmost, a rule that is of incalculable
benefit to millions, I quite approved of a heavy punishment being
exacted as a terrible warning to all time, when we re-conquered
Manipur. It cannot be denied that we showed unseemly want of nerve when
the news of the disaster arrived. There was no necessity to place Assam
under a military ruler, nor was there any need for such a formidable
muster of troops, at a vast expenditure of money and suffering, to
retrieve a disaster brought about by such an extraordinary want of
courage, nerve, forethought and common-sense. [41] Our position in
Manipur had never been a dangerous one, and even after the murder
of the Chief Commissioner's party the troops in the Residency might
easily have held their own till daybreak, when all opposition would
have collapsed, and the rebels would have fled, leaving our people
masters of the situation.
I have expressed my opinion as to the mistake we made in not restoring
the Rajah before the outbreak of March, and now I ask the question,
why, after the rebellion was put down, we did not do our best to
repair the evil by restoring Soor Chandra Singh to his own? He,
or his infant son, might have been restored, and have been kept in
a state of tutelage as long as necessary, and good government would
have been secured and our pledge to Chandra Kirtee Singh have been
maintained intact. Instead of this, an obscure child, a descendant not
of Ghumbeer Singh, but of Nur Singh, was selected, and the old line cut
off from the succession, and yet three generations had been faithful
to us. Ghumbeer Singh, Chandra Kirtee Singh, and Soor Chandra Singh
all served us loyally, and yet we suffered the last to die of a broken
heart in exile. Well might he exclaim, "And is this the reward for so
many years' service!" For my part I say emphatically, let us beware,
we have not heard the last of Manipur!
My sense of right and justice make me record facts as they strike me,
and yet I cannot help acknowledging as I do so, that the Government
of India is the best government in the world. When has India been
so governed, and what country in Europe has such an able and just
administration? Surrounded by difficulties, material, financial and
political, badgered by ignorant members of the House of Commons,
for ever asking foolish questions and moving foolish resolutions;
the stately bureaucracy plods steadily on with one object in view,
the good of the people. If at times it makes mistakes, who does
not? The greatest General is he who makes fewest mistakes, and,
judged by this standard alone, the Government of India has the first
rank among governing bodies. It has, however, a title to honour which
no one can assail. It is the only instance in history of a body of
foreigners who govern an Empire, not for their own benefit, but for
the benefit of the races committed by Providence to their charge. May
Providence long watch over it!
NOTES
[1] Resolution. Political Department, No. 87, 1872.
[2] Birmingham Daily Post, June 15, 1895.
[3] Printed official reports.
[4] One of the witnesses at the trial of the Regent and Senaputtee of
Manipur, in 1891, stated that Mr. Quinton was partly induced to enter
the palace from which he never emerged alive, by the Manipuris saying,
"Are you not our deity?"--Ed.
[5] The Assam Administration Report of 1877-8 writes of it as
"notoriously unhealthy, and it had long been proposed to move the
troops to a higher and less feverish spot."--Ed.
[6] When I first went to Assam almost all elephant-catching was done
by noosing.
[7] The country bordering on the Bhootan Dooars in the Ringpore
district.
[8] See subsequent sketch of Naga tribes in Chapter III.
[9] Sir James (then Lieut.) Johnstone headed a party to clear an
Assamese village from a panther that had killed several natives and was
terrifying the district. It retreated into a house which he ordered
to be pulled down, and as his men were thus engaged it sprang from a
window on to his shoulder. With his other arm--the left--he fired at it
behind his back and wounded it sufficiently to make it loose its hold,
and rush off into the jungle, where it was killed in the course of the
afternoon. His arm was terribly injured, and he always considered that
he owed complete recovery of the use of it to the kindness and skill
of an English medical friend who came from a great distance to attend
him. Every one else who was wounded by the same panther died.--Ed.
[10] Captain Butler was struck by a spear from a Naga ambuscade,
near the village of Pangti in the Naga Hills on December 25, 1876. He
died on January 7. He had held the appointment of Political Agent
for seven years, and was the son of Colonel Butler, the author of
'Scenes in Assam' and 'A Sketch in Assam,' the earliest accounts of
that eastern border.--Ed.
[11] "The influence exercised by Colonel McCulloch as a political
agent at Manipur was most beneficial," wrote the Times, April 1, 1891,
"and since his time no one has been more successful than Colonel
Johnstone, who took charge in 1877, and rendered conspicuous service
by raising the siege of Kohima by the Nagas in 1879."--Ed.
[12] As Assist-sup. of the tributary Mehals, Sir James (then
Lieutenant) Johnstone endowed schools at Keonjhur and presented the
Government with some land he had bought for the purpose. When the
Rajah, during whose minority he had managed the affairs of Keonjhur
as political officer, came of age, the agency was abolished for
economy.--Ed.
[13] I rewarded Kurum, and he distinguished himself later on.
[14] The name means beautiful garden.--Ed.
[15] Tannah means outpost.--Ed.
[16] Probably a corruption of Khatyra.
[17] I.e. Unclean.
[18] Mentioned frequently later on. In August, 1891, he was a
fugitive from the British Government, hiding himself on the Chinese
frontier.--Ed.
[19] Here a British native regiment was stationed, after Sir
J. Johnstone's retirement, but some time before the troubles of
1891.--Ed.
[20] Quoted by kind permission of editor from my article in Nineteenth
Century.
[21] Quoted by kind permission of editor from my article in Nineteenth
Century.
[22] It will be seen later on that this rumour was not correct.--Ed.
[23] A different place from Konoma.--Ed.
[24] A Sikh.--Ed.
[25] The Jubraj, who afterwards reigned as the Maharajah Soor Chandra
Singh, died in exile; Kotwal Koireng and Thangal Major were hanged in
August, 1891, by order of the sentence passed upon them for resisting
the British Government.--Ed.
[26] In 1891, the Jubraj, then the ex-Maharajah, brought forward
this fact in his appeal to the British Government, as a reason for
his restoration.--Ed.
[27] The savage mode in which the Nagas conduct their warfare is
vividly described by a correspondent of the Englishman writing from
Cachar, January 28, 1880, after a raid on the Baladhun Tea Gardens
by a band of the same tribe as those of Konoma. He ends with "The
whole was a horribly sickening scene, and a complete wreck; and such
surely as none but the veriest of devils in human form could have
perpetrated."--Ed.
[28] The order came in a telegram purporting to be from the Chief
Commissioner, and by whom really transmitted is a mystery. The
Deputy-Assistant Quartermaster General's Report of this Naga Hill
Expedition states, that after Lieutenant-Colonel Johnstone's Kuki
levies had attacked Phesama, and killed about two hundred of the enemy
in consequence of the loss of some of their own men from an assault
from this village, the Manipuri army performed no other operation in
this war (except as coolies and bringing in supplies, and in this
respect they were invaluable). But he adds, "Colonel Johnstone,
it is understood, was anxious to attack Konoma on his own account
without waiting for General Nation and the troops." Colonel Johnstone
explained in a memorandum that no arrangements had been made by the
military authorities for the carriage of the guns, and that up to
the evening before the attack on Konoma he had received no request
for coolies, but foreseeing some neglect of this kind he had kept
over one hundred reliable Manipuris for the work, and without them
the guns could not have gone into action. As to the rest of his levy,
they had lost three hundred men by sickness, and like all irregulars,
had been injured by the long delay and enforced idleness. They had
also been already fired upon by our troops in mistake for Nagas,
and he feared some unfortunate complication if he brought them again
to the front. But one hundred and fifty at the request of General
Nation were posted in the valley to intercept fugitives, and they did
what they were told. Another force was also left to help to protect
the camp at Suchema. Colonel Johnstone therein states that he felt
confident he could have captured Konoma with his Manipuris alone,
directly after the relief of Kohima. The Konoma men, in fact, offered
to submit on harsher terms to themselves to Colonel Johnstone than
were afterwards wrested from them by General Nation with the loss of
valuable lives, and at a heavy pecuniary cost.--Ed.
[29] I also heard from an old Mozuma friend, Lotoje, that the enemy
intended to concentrate all his fire on the officers, so as to
render the men helpless. I told this to the General and Major Cock,
and strongly advised them to do as I did, and cover their white
helmets with blue turbans to render themselves less conspicuous,
urging the inadvisability of needlessly rendering themselves marks
for the enemy's fire. The General refused, and Cock said he should do
as the General did, so I said no more; admiring their dogged courage,
but wishing that they would take advice.
[30] Sharp stakes of bamboo hardened in the fire.
[31] The official medical report of this campaign gives a deplorable
account of the sufferings of the wounded, and the gangrene which
affected the wounds in consequence of the extremely insanitary
condition of the Naga villages and stockades, where the Naga warriors
had been congregated for weeks expecting the attack--an additional
reason why the immediate pursuit into their strongholds which Colonel
Johnstone had recommended after the relief of Kohima should have been
carried out--failing the acceptance of the harsh terms of peace. See
ante.--Ed.
[32] This was the road along which Colonel Johnstone had marched to
relieve Kohima. The old route from the capital of Manipur to Cachar
was easy enough in comparison.--Ed.
[33] All wars rest in winter.
[34] Chief Court.
[35] Major Edward Dun died on the 5th of June, 1895.--Ed.
[36] Known as Regent during the recent troubles.
[37] "The Senaputtee seemed determined to wipe away all signs of
British connection with the State. Not only were the charred remains
of the Residency still further demolished, but every building in the
neighbourhood, and the very walls of the compound and garden were
levelled, and the graves of British officers were desecrated. The
Kang-joop-kool Sanatorium, twelve miles from the capital, built by
Sir J. Johnstone, was burnt, and his child's grave dug up."--Times'
telegram, May 3, 1891.--Ed.
It appears by the official correspondence that the Senaputtee sent
seven Manipur sepahis to open the child's grave, and scatter the
remains, out of spite to Sir J. Johnstone, whom he knew had wished him
to be banished, and who (on account of the Senaputtee's exceptionally
bad character) would never admit him into the Residency. For this act
the British military authorities had the sepahis flogged.--Nos. 1-11,
East India (Manipur) Blue Books.--Ed.
[38] "Oh! for a moment of Colonel Johnstone's presence at such a
crisis," wrote a British official from Manipur, to the Pioneer, in
1891. "One strong word with the ominous raising of the forefinger,
would have paralyzed the treacherous rebel Koireng (Senaputtee)
from perpetrating this outrage."--Ed.
[39] Major Trotter. He received wounds from an ambuscade, and died
of their effects, July, 1886.--Ed.
[40] "The general history of the Manipur incident," wrote the Times
in a leading article, Aug. 14, 1891, "must inspire mingled feelings
in the breasts of most Englishmen. The policy in which it originated,
cannot be said to reflect credit on the Government of India, while the
actual explosion itself was precipitated by a series of blunders which
have never been explained. There seems to be little doubt that had
the Government of India made up its mind promptly on the merits of the
dynastic quarrel between the dethroned Maharajah and his brothers, the
Senaputtee would hardly have been able to commit the crimes which have
cost him his life. But for five months the Government of India seemed
to accept the revolution accomplished last September in the palace of
Manipur. That revolution was notoriously the work of the Senaputtee,
although he chose, for his own reasons, to place one of his brothers
on the throne. The Government did not indeed assent to the change,
but their local representative does not appear to have taken marked
steps to express his disapproval. He is said to have tolerated and
condoned it to this extent, that he kept up friendly relations with the
new ruler as with the old. On the deplorable mistakes which led up to
the massacre, and made it possible, it is unnecessary to dwell. They
are still unaccounted for, and so many of the chief actors in that
fatal business have perished, that it is more than doubtful whether
we shall ever know exactly to whom they severally were due."--Ed.
[41] Three columns (one alone numbering 1000 strong), were marched
at once on Imphal, which was found deserted. The Regent was the
last of the princes who fled. He released the surviving English
prisoner, and sent him to the British camp to ask for an armistice;
but this was refused until he delivered up the Englishmen already
dead. The Manipuris, then expecting no mercy, opposed the march of
the troops.--Ed.