CHAPTER VI.

A.D. 1788.

Defection of Moghuls - Confederates obtain possession of Palace —

Emperor deposed — Palace plundered — Gholam Kadir in the Palace —

Emperor blinded — Approach of Mahrattas — Apprehensions of

Spoiler — The Moharram — Explosion in Palace — Flight to Meerut -

Probable Intentions — Capture of Gholam Kadir — His Punishment —

Excuse for his Deeds — Sindhia's Measures — Future nature of

Narrative — Poetical Lament — Col. Francklin.

ALARMED by these various portents, Gholam Kadir lost no time in

summoning all his adherents from Ghausgarh, stimulating their

zeal with the promise of plunder. At the same time he deputed

Ismail Beg across the river to practice upon the fidelity of the

garrison; and such was the Beg's influence that the Moghul

portion of the Imperial troops joined him immediately, and left

the unfortunate Emperor to be protected exclusively by

unbelievers, under the general direction of the Gosain leader,

Himmat Bahadur. This mercenary, not perhaps having his heart in

the cause, terrified by the threats of the Pathan, and (it is

possible) tampered with by traitors about the emperor's person,

soon withdrew; and the confederate chiefs at once crossed the

river, and took possession of the city.

The Emperor now became seriously anxious, and, after a

consultation with his attendants, resolved on deputing Manzur Ali

to seek a personal explanation with Gholam Kadir and Ismail Beg.

It has always been customary to tax this official with the

responsibility of this measure, and of the appalling results

which followed; but it does not appear absolutely necessary to

impute his conduct to complicity with the more criminal part of

Gholam Kadir's designs; and his subsequent fate is perhaps some

sort of argument in his favour. But, be this as it may, he went

to the chiefs by order of the Emperor, and demanded, "What were

their intentions?" In the usual style of Eastern manners they

replied, "These slaves are merely in attendance for the purpose

of presenting their duty in person to his Majesty." "Be it so,"

said the Controller; and his acquiescence seems to have been

unavoidable. "But," he added, "you surely need not bring your

army into the palace: come with a small retinue, lest the

Governor should shut the gates in your faces." Upon this advice

the two noblemen acted, and entered the Am Khas on the forenoon

of the following day (18th of July) with some half hundred

men-at-arms. Each received a khilat of seven pieces, together

with a sword and other presents; Gholam Kadir also receiving a

richly-jewelled shield. They then returned to their respective

residences in the town, where Ismail Beg spent the rest of the

day in making arrangements in order to preserve the safety and

confidence of the inhabitants. Next day, he removed his quarters

permanently to the house formerly occupied by Mohammad Shah's

Vazir, Kammar-ud-din Khan; and his men were quartered a couple of

miles south of the city, in and about the celebrated monumental

tomb of the ancient Saint, Shah Nizam-ud-din. Gholam Kadir's men

were nearer the palace, where the present Native Infantry

cantonment is, in Dariaoganj; while his officers occupied the

vast premises formerly belonging successively to the Ministers

Ghazi-ud-din and Mirza Najaf, outside of the Cabul Gate. The

ostensible state of Dehli politics was now this; Gholam Kadir was

Premier (an office he swore upon the Koran faithfully to

discharge), vice Madhoji Sindhia, dismissed; and the combined

armies were the troops of the Empire, commanded by Ismail Beg.

Under these circumstances Gholam Kadir did not want a pretext,

and at seven in the morning of Friday, the 29th July, he returned

to the palace, where he had an interview with the Emperor in the

Diwan Khas. Francklin is at fault again here; making his second

interview one with that which occurred more than a week before.

Citing the authority of Ismail Beg, who stood by, he represented

that the army was prepared to march on Mathra, and to chase the

Mahrattas from Hindustan; but that they first demanded a

settlement of their arrears, for which the Imperial treasury was

alone responsible, and alone sufficient.

This harangue, at its conclusion, was warmly echoed by the

Controller, by his Deputy, and by Ramrattan Modi. On the other

side. Lalla Sital Das, the Treasurer, who was at once summoned,

declared that, whatever might be the responsibility of the

Treasury for an army in whose raising it had had no share, and by

whose service it had not hitherto at all profited, at least that

its chests contained no means for meeting the claims. He boldly

urged that the claims should be resisted at all hazards.

Gholam Kadir replied by an assumed fit of ungoverned anger, and

producing an intercepted letter from Shah Alam, calling upon

Sindhia for help, ordered the Emperor to be disarmed, together

with his personal guard, and removed into close arrest; and then,

taking from the privacy of the Salim Garh a poor secluded son of

the late Emperor Ahmad Shah, set him on his throne, hailed him

Emperor, under the title of Bedar Bakht, and made all the

courtiers and officials do him homage. It is but just to record,

in favour of one whose memory has been much blackened, that

Manzur Ali, the Controller, appears on this occasion to have

acted with sense, if not spirit. When Bedar Bakht was first

brought forward, Shah Alam was still upon the throne, and, when

ordered to descend, began to make some show of resistance. Gholam

Kadir was drawing his sword to cut him down, when the Controller

interposed; advising the Emperor to bow to compulsion, and retire

peacefully to his apartments. For three days and nights the

Emperor and his family remained in close confinement, without

food or comfort of any sort; while Gholam Kadir persuaded Ismail

Beg to return to his camp, and devoted himself to wholesale

plunder during the absence of his associate. The latter's

suspicions were at length aroused, and he soon after sent an

agent to remind Gholam Kadir that he and his men had received

nothing of what it had been agreed to pay them. But the faithless

Pathan repudiated every kind of agreement, and proceeded to

defend the palace and apply all that it contained to his own use.

Ismail Beg, now sensible of his folly, lost no time in sending

for the heads of the civic community, whom he exhorted to provide

for their own protection; at the same time strictly charging his

own lieutenants to exert themselves to the very utmost should the

Pathans attempt to plunder. For the present, Gholam Kadir's

attention was too much taken up with the pillage of the Imperial

family to allow of his doing much in the way of a systematic sack

of the town. Dissatisfied with the jewellery realised from the

new Emperor, to whom the duty of despoiling the Begams was at

first confided, he conceived the notion that Shah Alam, as the

head of the family, was probably, nay, certainly, the possessor

of an exclusive knowledge regarding the place of a vast secret

hoard. All the crimes and horrors that ensued are attributable to

the action of this monomania. On the 29th, he made the new

Titular, Bedar Bakht, inflict corporal chastisement upon his

venerable predecessor. On the 30th, a similar outrage was

committed upon several of the ladies of Shah Alam's family, who

filled the beautiful buildings with their shrieks of alarm and

lamentation. On the 31st, the ruffian thought he had secured

enough to justify his attempting to reconcile Ismail Beg and his

men by sending them a donative of five lakhs of rupees. The

result of this seems to have been that a combined, though

tolerably humane and orderly attempt was made to levy

contributions from the Hindu bankers of the city.

On the 1st of August a fresh attempt was made to wrest the

supposed secret from the Shah, who once more denied all knowledge

of it, employing the strongest figure of denial. "If," said the

helpless old man, "you think I have any concealed treasures, they

must be within me. Rip open my bowels, and satisfy yourself." The

tormentor then tried cajolery and promises, but they were equally

futile. "God protect you, who has laid me aside," said the fallen

Monarch. "I am contented with my fate."

The aged widows of former Emperors were next exposed to insult

and suffering. These ladies were at first treated kindly, their

services being thought necessary in the plunder of the female

inhabitants of the Imtiaz Mahal, whose privacy was at first

respected. But on the failure of this attempt, the poor old women

themselves were plundered and driven out of the palace. When

other resources had been exhausted, the Controller fell under the

displeasure of his former protege, and was made to disburse seven

lakhs. On the 3rd August, Gholam Kadir gave proof of the degraded

barbarity of which Hindustani Pathans can be guilty, by lounging

on the throne on the Diwan Khas, side by side with the nominal

Emperor, whom he covered with abuse and ridicule, as he smoked

the hookah in his face. On the 6th, he destroyed the same throne

for the sake of the plating which still adhered to it, which he

threw into the melting-pot; and passed the next three days in

digging up the floors, and taking every other conceivable measure

in pursuit of his besetting chimera — the hidden treasure. During

this interval, however, he appears to have been at times

undecided; for, on the 7th he visited the Emperor in his

confinement, and offered to put on the throne Mirza Akbar, the

Emperor's favourite son — who did in fact ultimately succeed. The

only answer to these overtures was a request by Shah Alam that he

might be left alone, "for he was weary," he said, "of such state

as he had lately known, and did not wish to be disturbed with

public business."

At length arrived the memorable 10th of August, which, perhaps,

as far as any one date deserves the distinction, was the last day

of the legal existence of the famous Empire of the Moghuls.

Followed by the Deputy Controller, Yakub Ali, and by four or five

of his own most reckless Pathans, Gholam Kadir entered the Diwan

Khas, and ordered Shah Alam to be brought before him. Once more

the hidden treasure was spoken of, and the secret of its deposit

imperiously demanded; and once more the poor old Emperor — whom

we not long ago saw melting his plate to keep together a few

troops of horse — with perfect truth replied that if there was

any such secret he for one was in total ignorance of it. "Then,"

said the Rohilla, "you are of no further use in the world, and

should be blinded." "Alas!" replied the poor old man, with native

dignity, "do not so: you may spare these old eyes, that for sixty

years have grown dim with the daily study of God's word." The

spoiler then ordered his followers to torture the sons and

grandsons of the Emperor, who had followed, and now surrounded

their parent. This last outrage broke down the old man's

patience. "Take my sight," he cried, "rather than force upon it

scenes like these." Gholam Kadir at once leaped from the throne,

felled the old man to the ground, threw himself upon the

prostrate monarch's breast, and, so some historians relate,

struck out one of his eyes with his own dagger. Then rising, he

ordered a byestander — apparently a member of the household,

Yakub Ali himself — to complete the work. On his refusing, he

slew him with his own hand. He then ordered that the Princes

should share the fate of their father and be deprived of

eyesight, but desisted from this part of his brutality on the

pressing, remonstrance of the Treasurer, Lalla Sital Das. The

Emperor was, however, completely blinded by the Pathans, and

removed to Salimgarh, amid the shrill lamentations of women, and

the calmer, but not less passionate curses of men, who were not

scourged into silence without some difficulty and delay.

Francklin, following his usual authority, the MS. narrative of

Saiyid Raza Khan, says that, under these accumulated misfortunes,

the aged Emperor evinced a firmness and resignation highly

honourable to his character. It is pitiable to think how much

fortitude may be thrown away by an Asiatic for want of a little

active enterprise. There were probably not less than half-a-dozen

points in Shah Alam's life when a due vigour would have raised

him to safety, if not to splendour; but his vigour was never

ready at the right moment. There is a striking instance in

Khair-ud-din's Ibratnama. Gholam Kadir asking the blind Emperor

in mockery "If he saw anything?" was answered, "Nothing but the

Koran between thee and me."

The anxious citizens were not at once aware of the particulars of

this tragedy; but ere long rumours crept out to them of what

crimes and sufferings had been going on all day in the Red

Castle, — behind those stern and silent walls that were not again

to shield similar atrocities for nearly seventy years. Then

another day of horror was to come, when one of the princes who

were tortured on the 10th of August, 1788, was to see women and

children brutally massacred in the same once splendid courts; and

to find himself in the hands of adherents whose crimes would

render him a puppet if they succeeded, and a felon if they

failed.

But on the 12th more money was sent to Ismail Beg; and, as

before, the citizens were offered as the victims of the

reconciliation. They now began to leave the city in large

numbers; but on the 14th flying parties of Mahrattas began to

appear from the southward, and somewhat restored confidence.

Ismail Beg, who had long ceased to have any real confidence in

Gholam Kadir, and who (let us hope for the credit of human

nature) felt nothing but disgust at his companion's later

excesses, now opened negotiations with Rana Khan. On the 17th a

convoy of provisions from Ghausgarh was cut off, and a number of

the Pathans who escorted it put to the sword or drowned in

attempting to cross the river. On the 18th the Mahrattas came up

in considerable force on the left bank of the Jamna, where they

blockaded the approach from all but the side of the Musalman

camp. In the city the shops were shut, and supplies began totally

to fail. Scarcity even began to prevail in the palace, and the

troops within to murmur loudly for their share of the spoil. Next

day the spoiler condescended to argue with some who remonstrated

with him on his treatment of the Royal Family. Their condition

was in truth becoming as bad as it could well be; many of the

women dying daily of starvation. It is almost with relief that we

find, that the increasing scarcity compelling fresh acts of

spoliation, the Controller, who had so much helped in bringing

about this deplorable state of affairs, became himself its

victim, being deprived of everything that he possessed. Thus

passed the month of August, 1788, in Dehli.

The courage of Gholam Kadir did not at once yield to his growing

perils and difficulties. He appropriated an apartment in the

palace — probably the Burj-i-Tilla or "Golden Bastion." Here he

caroused with his officers, while the younger members of the

royal family played and danced before them like the common

performers of the streets. And they were rewarded by the

assurance on the part of their tormentor that, however deficient

they might be in princely virtues, their talents would preserve

them from wanting bread. Khair-ud-din adds a strange account of

Gholam Kadir going to sleep among them; and on waking, he is

represented as reviling them for their lack of courage in not

stabbing him while thus at their mercy! Many of the younger

princesses were exposed to insult and outrage, according to this

writer. Gholam Kadir at the same time partially suppressed the

discontents of his men, though not without risk to his life. At

length, on the 7th of September, finding the Mahrattas increasing

in numbers and boldness, and fearing to be surrounded and cut

off, Gholam Kadir moved his army back to its old encampment

across the river, and despatched part of his plunder to

Ghausgarh, conciliating his followers by the surrender of what

was less portable, such as the rich tents and equipage which had

been lately used by the Emperor on his expedition to Rewari. On

the 14th he paid a further visit to his camp, being under

apprehensions from Ismail Beg, but returned to the palace soon

after, in order to make one more attempt to shake what he

considered the obstinacy of Shah Alam about the hid treasure.

Foiled in this, and hemmed in by difficulties, it may be hoped

that he now began to perceive with horror the shadow of an

advancing vengeance. His covering the retreat to the eastward of

the palace and city favours the supposition.

Meanwhile the great ceremony of mourning for the sons of Ali drew

on; the Moharram, celebrated in Hindustan alike by the Shias, who

venerate their memory, and by the Sunnis, who uphold their

murderers. The principal features of this celebration are

processions of armed men, simulating the battle of Karbala; and

the public funeral of the saints, represented, not by an effigy

of their bodies, but by a model of their tombs. Loving spectacle

and excitement, with the love of a rather idle and illiterate

population whose daily life is dull and torpid, the people of

India have very generally lost sight of the fasting and

humiliation which are the real essence of the Moharram, and have

turned it into a diversion and a show. But there was no show nor

diversion for the citizens of Dehli that year, menaced by

contending armies, and awed by the knowledge of a great crime. At

length, on the 11th October, the last day of the fast, a sense of

deliverance began to be vaguely felt. It began to be known that

Ismail Beg was reconciled to Rana Khan, and that the latter was

receiving reinforcements from the Deccan. Lestonneaux, with the

formidable "Telinga" battalions of de Boigne, had already

arrived; all was movement and din in the Pathan camp at Shahdara.

Finally, as the short chill evening of the autumn day closed in,

the high walls of the Red Castle blabbed part of their secret to

those who had so long watched them. With a loud explosion, the

powder magazine rose into the air, and flames presently spread

above the crenellated parapets. The bystanders, running to the

rampart of the town, facing the river, saw, by the lurid light,

boats being rowed across; while a solitary elephant was moving

down at his best pace over the heavy sands, bearing the rebel

chief. Gholam Kadir had finally departed, leaving the Salimgarh

by a sally-port, and sending before him the titular Emperor, the

plundered controller of the household, and all the chief members

of the royal family.

The exact events which had passed in the interior of the palace

that day can never now be known. Whether, as is usually thought,

Gholam Kadir tried to set fire to the palace, that his long crime

might be consummated by the destruction of Shah Alam among the

blazing ruins of his ancestral dwelling; or whether, as the

author of the Mozafari supposes, he meant to hold out against the

Mahrattas to the last, and was only put to flight by the

explosion, which he attributed to a mine laid by them, can only

be a matter for speculation. To myself, I confess, the popular

story appears the more probable. If Gholam Kadir meant to stand a

siege, why did he send his troops across the river? and why, when

he was retiring at the appearance of a mine — which he must have

known was likely to be one of the siege operations — did he

remove the royal family, and only leave his chief victim? Lastly,

why did he leave that victim alive? Possibly he was insane.

The Mahratta general immediately occupied the castle; and the

exertions of his men succeeded in extinguishing the flames before

much injury had occurred. Shah Alam and the remaining ladies of

his family were set at liberty, provided with some present

comforts, and consoled as to the future. Rana Khan then awaited

further reinforcements from Sindhia, while the Pathans retired

towards their own country.

The Court of Punah saw their advantage in strengthening the

Patel, and sent him a strong body of troops, led by Takuji Holkar

in person, on condition that both that chief and the Peshwa

should participate in the fruits of the campaign. The arrival of

these forces was welcomed alike by Rana Khan and by the long

harassed citizens of Dehli; and after the safety of the palace

had been secured, the rest of the army, commanded by Rana Khan,

Appa Khandi Rao, and others, started in pursuit of Gholam Kadir,

who found himself so hard pressed that he threw himself into the

Fort of Meerut, three marches off, and about equi-distant from

Dehli, from Ghausgarh, and from the frontiers of Rohilkand. Why

he did not, on leaving Dehli, march due north to Ghausgarh cannot

be now positively determined; but it is possible that, having his

spoil collected in that fort, he preferred trying to divert the

enemy by an expedition in a more easterly direction; and that he

entertained some hopes of aid from his connection, Faizula Khan

of Rampur, or from the Bangash of Farrukhabad.

Be this as it may, the fort of Meerut sheltered him for the time,

but in that fort he was ere long surrounded. The investing army

was large, and, as the chances of escape diminished, the Pathan's

audacity at length began to fail, and he offered terms of the

most entire and abject submission. These being sternly rejected,

he prepared for the worst. On the 21st of December a general

assault was delivered by the Mahratta army; against which Gholam

Kadir and his men defended themselves with resolution throughout

the short day. But his men in general were now weary, if not of

his crimes at all events of his misfortunes, and he formed the

resolution to separate from them without further delay. He

accordingly stole out of the fort that night, mounted on a horse,

into whose saddle-bags he had stuffed a large amount of the most

valuable jewellery from the palace plunder, which he had ever

since retained in his own keeping, in view of an emergency. He

rode some twelve miles through the winter night, avoiding the

haunts of men, and apparently hoping to cross the Jamna and find

refuge with the Sikhs. At last, in the mists of the dawn, his

weary horse, wandering over the fields, fell into a slope used

for the descent of the oxen who draw up the bucket from the well,

for the purposes of irrigation. The horse rose and galloped off

by the incline made for the bullocks, but the rider was either

stunned or disabled by his bruises, and remained where he fell.

As the day dawned the Brahmin cultivator came to yoke his cattle

and water the wheat, when he found the richly-dressed form of one

whom he speedily recognized as having but lately refused him

redress when plundered by the Pathan soldiery. "Salam, Nawab

Sahib!" said the man, offering a mock obeisance, with clownish

malice, to his late oppressor. The scared and famished caitiff

sate up and looked about him. "Why do you call me Nawab?" he

asked. "I am a poor soldier, wounded, and seeking my home. I have

lost all I have, but put me in the road to Ghausgarh, and I will

reward you hereafter." Necessarily, the mention of this fort

would have put at rest any doubt in the Brahmin's mind; he at

once shouted for assistance, and presently carried off his prize

to Rana Khan's camp. Hence the prisoner was despatched to

Sindhia, at Mathra, while the Pathans, left to themselves,

abandoned the Fort of Meerut and dispersed to their respective

homes. Bedar Bakht, the titular Emperor, was sent to Dehli, where

he was confined and ultimately slain, and the unfortunate

controller, Manzur Ali, who had played so prominent a part in the

late events as to have incurred general suspicion of treacherous

connivance, was tied to the foot of an elephant and thus dragged

about the streets until he died.

For the Rohilla chief a still more horrible fate was prepared. On

his arrival at Mathra, Sindhia inflicted upon him the punishment

of Tashhir, sending him round the bazaar on a jackass, with his

face to the tail, and a guard instructed to stop at every

considerable shop and beg a cowree, in the name of the Nawab of

the Bawani. The wretched man becoming abusive under the

contemptuous treatment, his tongue was torn out of his mouth.

Gradually he was mutilated further, being first blinded, as a

retribution for his treatment of the Emperor, and subsequently

deprived of his nose, ears, hands and feet, and sent to Dehli.

Death came to his relief upon the road, it is believed by his

being hanged upon a tree 3rd March, 1789, and the mangled trunk

was sent to Dehli, where it was laid before the sightless

monarch, the most ghastly Nazar that ever was presented in the

Diwin Khas.

Perhaps, if we could hear Gholam Kadir's version of the

revolution here described, we might find that public indignation

had to some extent exaggerated his crimes. It is possible that

the tradition which imputes his conduct to revenge for an alleged

cruelty of Shah Alam may be a myth, founded upon a popular

conception of probability, and only corroborated by the fact that

he died childless. Perhaps he merely thought that he was

performing a legitimate stroke of State, and imitating the

vigorous policy of Ghazi-ud-din the younger; perhaps the plunder

of the palace was necessary to conciliate his followers; perhaps

the firing of the palace was an accident. But the result of the

combination of untoward appearances has been to make his name a

bye-word among the not over-sensitive inhabitants of Hindustan,

familiar, by tradition and by personal experience, with almost

every form of cruelty, and almost every degree of rebellion. It

is said that during moments of reaction, after some of his

debauches in the palace (v. p. 183), Gholam Kadir attempted to

justify his conduct by representing himself as acting under

supernatural inspiration. "As I was sleeping," he averred, "in a

garden at Sikandra, an apparition stood over me and smote me on

the face saying, Arise, go to Dehli, and possess thyself of the

palace." It may be that at such times he experienced some

feelings of remorse. At all events, his punishment was both

immediate and terrible, and his crimes proved the ruin of his

house. Ghausgarh was forthwith razed to the ground, so that — as

already mentioned — no vestige but the mosque remains. The

brother of the deceased fled to the Panjab.

The first care of the Patel, after these summary vindications of

justice, was to make provision for the administration of

Hindustan, to which he probably foresaw that he should not be

able to give constant personal attention, and in which he

resolved to run no further risks of a Musalman revival. The

fallen Emperor was restored to his throne, in spite of his own

reluctance, "in spite of his blindness," as the native historian

says, who knew that no blind man could be a Sultan; and at the

enthronement, to which all possible pomp was lent, the agency of

the Peshwa, with Sindhia for his deputy, was solemnly renewed and

firmly established. We also learn from Francklin that an annual

allowance of nine lakes of rupees was assigned for the support of

the Emperor's family and Court, an adequate civil list if it had

been regularly paid. But Shah Nizam-ud-din, who had been restored

to office, was an unfit man to be entrusted with the uncontrolled

management of such a sum; and during the Patel's frequent and

protracted absences, the royal family were often reduced to

absolute indigence. Sayid Raza Khan, on whose authority this

shocking statement rests, was the resident representative of the

British Minister at Lucknow, and was the channel through which

the aged Emperor received from the British Government a monthly

allowance of 2,000 rupees. This, together with the fees paid by

persons desirous of being presented, was all that Shah Alam could

count on in his old age for the support of his thirty children

and numerous kinsfolk and retainers. Captain Francklin was an

eye-witness of the semblance of State latterly maintained in the

Red Castle, where he paid his respects in 1794. He found the

Emperor represented by a crimson velvet chair under an awning in

the Diwan Khas, but the Shah was actually in one of the private

rooms with three of his sons. The British officers presented

their alms under the disguise of a tributary offering, and

received some nightgowns, of sprigged calico, by way of honorific

dresses.

The so-called Emperor being now incapable of ruling, even

according to the very lax political code of the East, and all

real power being in the hands of a Hindu headborough supported by

mercenary troops, the native records, to which I have had access,

either cease altogether, or cease to concern themselves with the

special story of Hindustan. And, indeed, as far as showing the

fall of the empire, my task is also done. I do not agree with

those who think that the empire fell with the death of Aurangzeb,

or even with the events that immediately preceded the campaign of

Panipat, in 1761. I consider the empire to have endured as long

as "the king's name was a tower of strength"; as long as Nawabs

paid large fines on succession, and contending parties intrigued

for investiture; as long as Shujaa-ud-daulah could need its

sanction to his occupation of Kattahir, or Najaf Khan led its

armies to the conquest of the Jats. We have seen how that state

of affairs originated, and how it came to an end; there is

nothing now left but to trace briefly the concluding career of

those who have played their parts in the narrative, and to

introduce their successors upon the vast and vacant theatre. In

so doing it must be borne in mind that, although we, from our

present standpoint, can see that the Moghul Empire was ended, it

did not altogether so appear to contemporaries. Whether

federation or disintegration be the best ideal destiny, for a

number of Provinces whose controlling centre has given way, is a

question which may admit of more than one answer. But it is, in

any case, certain that in the year 1789 the Provinces of which

the Empire had been composed, were not ripe for independent and

organic existence. There was still, therefore, a craving for a

paramount power; and that craving was to be finally met by the

British. In the meanwhile the almost effete machinery of the

Empire, directed and administered by Sindhia, made the best

available substitute; General de Boigne — who had the most

complete information on the subject — bears unequivocal testimony

on this subject. His words will be found at the beginning of the

next chapter.

NOTE. — It would be curious to know what became of Gholam Kadir's

jewel-laden horse after the rider fell into the pit. In Skinner's

life, it is conjectured that he came into the hands of M.

Lestonneaux. It is certain that this officer abruptly abandoned

Sindhia's service at this very time. Perhaps the crown jewels of

the Great Mughal are now in France. The Emperor (who composed

poetry with estimation under the name of "Aftab") solaced his

temporary captivity by writing verses, which are still celebrated

in Hindustan, and of which the following is a correct

translation. The resemblance to the Psalms of David is

noticeable: —

"The storms of affliction have destroyed the Majesty of my

Government: and scattered my State to the winds.

I was even as the Sun shining in the firmament of the Empire: but

the sun is setting in the sorrowful West.

It is well for me that I have become blind; for so I am hindered

from seeing another on my throne.

Even as the saints were afflicted by Yazid; so is the ruin that

has fallen upon me, through the appointment of Destiny.

The wealth of this world was my sickness; but now the Lord hath

healed me.

I have received the just reward of mine iniquities; but now He

hath forgiven me my sins.

I gave milk to the young adder; and he became the cause of my

destruction.

The Steward who served me thirty years compassed my ruin; but a

swift recompense hath overtaken him.

The lords of my council who had covenanted to serve me; even they

deserted me, and took whatsoever in thirty years I had put by for

my children.

Moghuls and Afghans alike failed me; and became confederates in

my imprisonment.

Even the base-born man of Hamadan, and Gul Mohammad, full of

wickedness; Allah Yar also, and Solaiman and Badal Beg all met

together for my trouble.

And now that this young Afghan hath destroyed the dignity of my

empire; I see none but thee, O Most Holy! to have compassion upon

me.

Yet peradventure Timur Shah my kinsman may come to my aid; and

Madhoji Sindhia, who is even as a son unto me he also will surely

avenge my cause.

Asaf-ud-daula and the chief of the English; they also may come to

my relief.

Shame were it if Princes and People gathered not together; to the

end that they might bring me help.

Of all the fair women of my chambers none is left to me but

Mubarik Mahal.

O Aftab! verily thou hast been this day overthrown by Destiny;

yet God shall bless thee and restore thy fallen brightness."

Francklin's Shah Alum has been constantly referred to. He was an

officer of great diligence, who had large local opportunities,

having been in Dehli, the Doab, and Rohilkand, from 1793 to 1796,

on a survey ordered by the British Government. He had access to

many native sources of information; but unfortunately never cites

any in the margin but Sayid Raza's MS. I have not hesitated to

combat his views on several points; but there are few English

writers on the subject to whom we are more indebted. Besides this

work, and one to be hereafter noticed, he was the author of books

on Ancient Palibothra and on snake-worship. He died a

lieutenant-colonel in the Bengal army.

PART III.

CHAPTER I.

A.D. 1789-94.

Sindhia as Mayor of Palace — British Policy — Augmentation of

Army under General de Boigne — Ismail Beg joins the Rajput rising

— Battle of Patan — Sindhia at Mathra — Siege of Ajmir — Jodhpur

Rajah — Battle of Mirta — Rivals alarmed — French Officers —

Progress to Puna — Holkar advances — Ismail Beg taken — Battle of

Lakhairi — Sindhia rebuked — Power of Sindhia — Rise of George

Thomas — Thomas quits Begam — Sindhia at Puna - Death and

character of Madhoji Sindhia — Koil in the last Century.

FROM the time of the revolution of 1788 each of the dismembered

provinces has its separate history; and the present record

naturally shrinks to the contracted limits of a local history of

the capital, and of the districts more especially connected with

it by proximity or by political ties. Still, since the country is

one that has long been occupying our attention, and the persons

who have made it do so are still upon the scene, it may be

interesting to those who have followed the narrative thus far if

a brief conclusion is presented to them. The story of the

empire's fall will thus be completed, and the chasm between the

Moghul rule and the English rule will be provisionally bridged.

It must, moreover, be remembered that the visible centre of

authority is a thing for which men will always look. And, even in

the fallen state of the Dehli monarchy this was still in the

palace of the descendant of Babar. To use de Boigne's words,

written in 1790: — "le respect .... envers la maison de Timour

regnait a tel point que, quoique toute la peninsule se fut

sucessivement soustraite a son autorite, aucun prince .... de

l'Inde ne s'etait arroge le titre de souverain. Sindhia

partageait le respect, et Shah Alam etait toujours assis sur le

Trone Mogol, et tout se faisait en son nom."

It has been already shown how "Maharaja Patel," as Madhoji

Sindhia is called by the native writers, assumed the actual

government, whilst he secured for the youthful chief of the

Mahratta confederacy the titular office of "Agent

Plenipotentiary," which had been once or twice previously used to

designate mighty Viceroys like the first Nizam.

In providing this distinction for his native superior, the

usually shrewd old minister intended to blind his countrymen and

his rivals; and by another still more clumsy coup de theatre, he

assumed to himself the position of a servant, as harmonizing with

the rural dignity of Beadle or Headborough, which, as we have

seen, he persisted in affecting. Decorated however by the blind

old Emperor with the more sonorous appellations of

Madar-ul-Maham, Ali Jah, Bahadur ("Exalted and valorous Centre of

Affairs"), he played the Mayor-of-the-Palace with far more effect

at Dehli than it would have been possible for him to do at Punah.

Circumstances, moreover, were now far more in his favour than

they had been since 1785. During the three years that followed,

the Rohillas of Ghausgarh were broken, Muhammad Beg was dead, the

strength of the brave but indolent Rajputs was much paralyzed,

and Najaf Kuli Khan — who never had opposed him, but might have

been formidable if he pleased — had succumbed to a long attack of

dropsy. Ismail Beg, it is true, was still in existence, and now

more than ever a centre of influence among the Moghuls. But

Ismail Beg was at present conciliated, having joined the Patel's

party ever since his former associate, Gholam Kadir, had

proceeded to such criminal excesses in the palace. As a further

means of attaching to him this important, even if not very

intelligent chief, the Patel about this time conferred upon him a

portion of Najaf Kuli's fief in the Mewat country south of Dehli.

By this he not only pleased the Moghul noble, but trusted to

furnish him with occupation in the reduction and management of

the wild mountaineers of that district. It was indeed idle to

hope that Ismail Beg would remain faithful in the event of any

future resurrection of the Musalman power; and it could not be

denied that something of the kind might at any time occur, owing

to the menacing attitude of the Afghans, who were still very

powerful under the famous Ahmad Abdali's son, Timur Shah. Indeed,

this was a ceaseless difficulty during the whole of Madhoji's

remaining life; and one that would have been still more serious,

but for the anxiously pacific policy which, for the most part,

characterized the British administration during that period. Nor

did the Minister at this time enjoy the advantage of being served

by European commanders. Lestonneaux retired suddenly in the

beginning of 1789; and de Boigne, as above-mentioned, had also

left the army, and was engaged in commercial pursuits at Lucknow.

But the army continued to comprise a certain proportion of

regular troops; nor was it long before M. de Boigne, being

earnestly solicited by Madhoji, and offered his own terms,

resumed his command, augmented this portion of the force, and

assumed a position of confidence and freedom which had not

previously been allowed him. The skeletons of his two original

battalions remained to form the nucleus of the new force. The

battalion of Lestonneaux — or whatever the name — was deserted by

its commandant, with eight months' arrears due to it, was

disorganized and mutinous; and Sindhia meditated an attack upon

it with an overwhelming body of horse. De Boigne however

interceded, representing that the soldiers were not to blame for

their colonel's defection and that their demand, though it might

not be expressed with due respect, was after all founded on

justice. Sindhia relented so far as to award a present payment of

half the arrears, and a permission that the men should be

absorbed in the brigade about to be formed; but the astute

Savoyard took care first to make them pile their arms, so that

their future entertainment should be as individuals only. The

officers were at the same time cashiered; and thus the mutiny of

a battalion was patiently and ingeniously suppressed without its

precious material being lost to the service. The requisite new

recruits were principally raised from Rohilkand and Audh — the

future nurseries of the famous Bengal army. The officers were the

most respectable Europeans that the General could collect; and

the non-commissioned posts were given to picked men of the old

battalions.

The augmented force gradually reached the strength of three

brigades, each brigade consisting of eight battalions of sepoys,

each 700 strong; with 500 cavalry and forty fieldpieces. The

General was allowed 10,000 rupees per mensem for his own pay, and

a liberal scale was fixed for the European officers, whose number

was from time to time increased, and the whole force, forming a

small army in itself, marched under the white cross of Savoy, the

national colours of its honourable chief. A gratuity was secured

to all who might be wounded in action, and it was guaranteed that

their pay should go on while in hospital. Invalids were to have

pensions in money and grants of land.

It soon had to take the field: for Ismail Beg's loyalty, already

wavering in view of an Afghan invasion, gave way entirely in the

beginning of 1790 before the solicitations of the Rajput chiefs.

These high-spirited men, longing for an opportunity to strike

another blow for national independence, fancied, and not without

reason, that they could reckon upon the aid of the restless

Ismail with whom they had already combined during the Lalsaut

campaign in 1787.

The corps of de Boigne formed part of the army sent under the

command of Sindhia's Mahratta generals, Lakwa Dada and Gopal Rao

Bhao, to prevent if possible the junction of Ismail Beg with his

Rajput allies. But the Moghul soldier of fortune was determined

not to yield without a struggle. No sooner did he raise his

standard than thousands of disbanded Afghan and Persian horsemen

flocked to his headquarters. In March de Boigne left his employer

at his favourite cantonment of Mathra, and sending before him a

cloud of Mahratta horse, marched upon Ismail Beg with a complete

brigade, including fifty pieces of artillery. On the morning of

the 10th May they came upon him at a place called Patan, in the

rocky country between Ajmir and Gwalior, not many miles from the

scene of the former battle at Lalsaut. For three weeks or more

nothing was effected, but on the 19th June Ismail announced his

intention of attacking the Mahratta lines. De Boigne sent a

messenger to say that he would spare him the fatigue of the

journey, and advanced to the encounter with all his force on the

following morning.

The Rajputs had come up; but there was no longer union between

them; for the Patel, taking advantage of a temporary soreness

felt by the Kachwahas of Jaipur on some trifling provocation, had

contrived to secure their inaction before the battle began.

Notwithstanding this defection, a large body of infantry still

stood firm, but European skill and resolution conquered in the

end. Ismail at the head of his Moghul cavaliers repeatedly

charged de Boigne's artillery, sabring the gunners at their

posts. Between the charges the infantry were thinned by

well-directed volleys of grape, and the squares had to be formed

with the greatest rapidity as the cavalry of the enemy once more

attacked them. De Boigne's squares, however, resisted all

attempts throughout the afternoon, and a general advance of the

whole line at length took place, before which the enemy gradually

broke. De Boigne placing himself at the head of one of his

battalions, ordered the others to follow, and precipitated his

foot upon the enemy's batteries. The first was carried with the

shock; at eight in the evening he was master of the second; the

third fell an hour later; the Moghuls' resistance was completely

overpowered, and their leader was chased into the city of Jaipur.

Ismail also lost in this engagement one hundred guns, fifty

elephants, two hundred stand of colours and all his baggage; and

on the following day a large portion of his army, amounting to

seven battalions of foot and ten thousand irregular troops, went

over to the victors. On this, as on many other occasions, the

Mahratta cause was jeopardised by jealousies; Holkar holding

aloof during the action, which would have begun earlier, and in

all probability proved more decisive and with less loss, had he

given due co-operation. There is a modest account of this action

from de Boigne's pen in the Calcutta Gazette for 22nd July, 1790.

The letter is dated 24th June — four days after the battle — and

does not represent the exertions of the Mahrattas in anything

like the serious light adopted in Captain Grant Duff's work, to

which I have been principally indebted for my account of the

action. The gallant writer estimates Ismail Beg's Moghul horse,

however, at 5,000 sabres; and admits that the Mahrattas would

have sustained severe loss but for the timely firmness of the

regular battalions. The fact appears to be that the diminished

Rajput infantry, deficient in discipline and zeal, and wanting

the prestige and coolness inspired among Asiatics by the presence

of European leaders, did not support the cavalry, and that the

latter become exhausted by their vain assaults upon the

well-trained squares. Seeing this, de Boigne marched up his men

(10,000 strong, by his own account), under the protection of a

steady cannonade from his own guns, and stormed the enemy's camp.

He estimates his own loss at 120 killed and 472 wounded; the

enemy's foot were not much cut up, because they were intrenched;

"but they have lost a vast number of cavalry." He says of

himself, "I was on horseback encouraging our men; thank God I

have realized all the sanguine expectations of Sindhia; the

officers in general have behaved well; to them I am a great deal

indebted for the fortune of the day." This was the most important

victory that Sindhia had ever gained, and fully justified the

increased confidence that he had shown his Savoyard General. The

memoir above cited, estimates the whole combined forces of the

enemy at 25,000 foot and 20,000 horse, but it is probable that

they were not all engaged. Patan, a fortress which has been

compared to Gibraltar, was taken by storm after three days of

open trenches, and Ismail Beg fled to the Panjab.

The Patel himself was not present with the army during this

campaign, but remained at Mathra, which was a favourite residence

of his, owing to its peculiar reputation for holiness among the

Hindus. This ancient city, which is mentioned both by Arrian and

by Pliny, is the centre of a small district which is to the

worshippers of Vishnu what Palestine is to Christians, and the

Western part of Arabia is to the people of the Prophet. Here was

born the celebrated Krishna, reported to be an incarnation of the

Deity; here was his infant life sought by the tyrant Kans; hence

he fled to Gujrat; returning when he came to man's estate, and

partially adopting it as his residence after having slain his

enemy.

We have seen how the general of Ahmad the Abdali massacred the

inhabitants, with a zeal partaking of the fanatic and the robber

in equal proportions, in 1757. Since then the place, standing at

the head of the Bhartpur basin, and midway between Dehli and the

Rajput country, had recovered its importance, and now formed

Madhoji's chief cantonment. Here it was that he received the news

of the battle of Patan, and of the temporary disappearance of

Ismail Beg; and hence he proceeded to Dehli, and there obtained a

fresh confirmation of the office of Plenipotentiary for the

Peshwa, together with two fresh firmans (or patents). One

conferring upon himself the power to choose a successor in the

Ministry from among his own family, and the other an edict

forbidding the slaughter of horned cattle (so highly reverenced

by the Hindus) throughout all the territory which still owned the

sway, however nominal, of the Moghul sceptre.

Soon after he ordered his army, commanded as before, to return to

Rajputana, and punish Bijai Singh, the Rathor leader of Jodhpur,

for abetting the resistance of Ismail Beg. On the 21st of August

the General arrived at Ajmir, and took the town on the following

day. He then sat down to form the regular siege of the citadel,

called Taragarh (a fastness strong by nature, and strengthened

still more by art, and situated on an eminence some 3,000 feet

above sea-level). Bijai Singh, in Rajput fashion, was ready to

try negotiation, and thought that he might succeed in practicing

upon one whom he would naturally regard in the light of a

mercenary leader. He accordingly sent a message to de Boigne

offering him the fort, with the territory for fifty miles round

Ajmir if he would desert his employer. But the General sent him

for answer that "Sindhia had already given him both Jodhpur and

Jaipur, and that the Rajah could not be so unreasonable as to

expect him to exchange the whole of those territories for the

portion offered." After delivering himself of this grim piece of

humour, and leaving a force to blockade the citadel, General de

Boigne marched west to encounter the Rajah. Burning to retrieve

the disgrace of Patan, Bijai Singh was marching up from Jodhpur

to the relief of Taragarh when de Boigne met him at Mirta, a

walled town about two marches distant from Ajmir and 76 miles

N.E. of Jodhpur. It stands on high ground, the western wall being

of mud, the eastern of masonry. On the 9th September the armies

approached, and Gopal Rao was for attacking at once, but the

General, with his accustomed coolness, pointed out that, not only

were the men fatigued with marching and in need of repose, but

that the day was too far advanced to allow of due pursuit being

made should they — as was to be hoped — gain the action. It was

therefore determined to try the effect of a surprise after the

men had had a meal and a few hours repose. The forces on either

side were not unequal. The Rajputs had the better in point of

cavalry, their strength in this arm has been computed at 30,000

sabres. The Mahrattas had the advantage in artillery and in

disciplined foot. The lines of the Rajputs were partially covered

in rear by the walls of the town. But the spot was of evil omen.

Bijai Singh had sustained a severe defeat on this very ground

near forty years before. Nevertheless, years had not taught the

Rathors wisdom, nor misfortune schooled them to prudence. De

Boigne came up in the grey of the morning, when the indolent

Hindus were completely off their guard. And when the Rajah and

his companions were roused from the drunken dreams of Madhu, they

already found the camp deserted, and the army in confusion. Fifty

field pieces were piercing the lines with an incessant discharge

of grape-shot, and Colonel Rohan who commanded de Boigne's right

wing had, with unauthorised audacity, thrown himself into the

midst of the camp at the head of three battalions. Rallying a

strong body of horse — and the Rajput cavaliers were brave to a

fault — the Rajah fell furiously upon the advanced corps of

infantry, which he hoped to annihilate before they could be

supported from the main army. But European discipline was too

much. for Eastern chivalry. Hastily forming hollow square the

battalions of de Boigne awaited the storm; the infantry of

Waterloo before the gendarmerie of Agincourt. The ground shook

beneath the impetuous advance of the dust-cloud sparkling with

the flashes of quivering steel. But when the cloud cleared off,

there were still the hollow squares of infantry, like living

bastions, dealing out lightnings far more terrible than any that

they had encountered. The baffled horsemen wheeled furiously

round on the Mahratta cavalry, and scattered them to the four

corners of the field. They then attempted to gallop back, but it

was through a Valley of Death. The whole of the regular troops of

the enemy lined the way; the guns of de Boigne, rapidly served,

pelted them with grape at point-blank distance; the squares

maintained their incessant volleys; by nine in the morning nearly

every man of the 4,000 who had charged with their prince lay dead

upon the ground. Unfatigued and almost uninjured, the

well-trained infantry of de Boigne now became assailants. The

battalions rapidly deployed, and advancing with the support of

their own artillery, made a general attack upon the Rajput line.

By three in the afternoon all attempt at resistance had ceased.

The whole camp, with vast plunder and munitions of war, fell into

the hands of the victors. The middle-ages were over in India; and

the prediction of Bernier was vindicated by the superiority of

scientific warfare over headlong valour. The town was easily

taken, and the fall of Taragarh, the lofty and almost

impregnable-looking citadel that frowns above Ajmir, followed

soon after. The echo of this blow resounded throughout native

India. The Nana Farnavis heard it at Punah, and redoubled his

Brahmin intrigues against his successful countryman. He likewise

stimulated the rivalry of Takuji Holkar, who, with more of

practical sagacity, resolved to profit by Sindhia's example, and

lost no time in raising a force similarly organised to that which

had won this great victory. De Boigne, almost worn out himself,

allowed his victorious troops no time to cool, but marched on

Jodhpur, and arrived at Kuarpur in the vicinity of the capital on

the 18th of November. But his presence was enough. The Rajas of

Udaipur and Jodhpur hastened to offer their submission to the

chief who combined the prestige of the house of Timur with the

glamour of the fire-eating Feringhee. Sindhia (to borrow a phrase

from the gambling table) backed his luck. He gave de Boigne an

increased assignment of territory; and authority to raise two

more brigades, on which by express permission of the blind old

Shah was conferred the title of Army of the Empire. The territory

assigned to the General extended from Mathra to Dehli, and over

the whole Upper Doab, yielding a total revenue of about

twenty-two lakhs of rupees, a large sum for those days. After

liquidating the pay of the troops it was estimated that this left

a balance in his favour of about 40,000 rupees a year besides his

pay, and very large perquisites. He also exercised unlimited

civil and military jurisdiction. His headquarters were at

Aligarh, where he exercised quasi-royal sway over the whole

surrounding country. Some further work, however, awaited de

Boigne before he finally retired into purely civil

administration. Among the last to hold out against the good

fortune and genius of Sindhia was the founder of the present

state of Indore, Jeswant Rao Holkar, who resolved to try the

effect upon his rival of a blow struck with his own weapons. The

Duke of Wellington in 1803 took much the same view of this

fondness on the part of the Mahrattas for European discipline and

fashions in war as that vainly urged on Sheodasheo Rao by Malhar

Rao Holkar in 1760. "Sindhia's armies had actually," so wrote

General Wellesley in 1803, "been brought to a very favourable

state of discipline, and his power had become formidable by the

exertions of European officers in his service; but, I think, it

is much to be doubted whether his power — or rather that of the

whole Mahratta nation — would not have been more formidable if

they had never had a European or an infantry soldier in their

service, and had carried on their operations in the manner of the

original Mahrattas, only by means of cavalry." Malhar Rao and

Wellesley were two great authorities; but, in any case, when once

any State had introduced the new system, all its rivals were

compelled to do likewise, and the State which did it with the

most energy prevailed. The citation above given is from Owen's

Selections, p. 336.

This was the hey-day of European adventure in the East. France,

still under the influence of feudal institutions, continued to

send out brave young men who longed, while providing for

themselves, to restore the influence of their country in India,

shaken as it had been by the ill success of Dupleix, Lally, and

Law. The native princes, on the other side, were not backward in

availing themselves of this new species of wardog. A Frenchman

was worth his weight in gold; even an Anglo-Indian — the race is

now relegated to the office-stool — fetched, we may say, his

weight in silver. But men of the latter class, though not

deficient in valour, and not without special advantages from

their knowledge of the people and their language, were not so

fully trusted. Doubtless the French officers would be more

serviceable in a war with England; and that contingency was

probably never long absent from the thoughts of the native

chiefs. With the exception of the Musalman Viceroys of Audh and

the Deccan, every native power dreaded the advance of the

English, and desired their destruction. In fact, now that the

Empire was fallen, a general Hindu revival had taken its place,

the end of which was not seen till the Sikhs were finally subdued

in 1849.

Holkar's new army was commanded by a French officer, whose name

variously spelt, was perhaps du Drenec. He was the son of an

officer in the Royal navy of France, and is described as an

accomplished and courteous gentleman. He usually receives from

contemporary writers the title of Chevalier, and his conduct

sustained the character of a well-born soldier.

1792. — The Patel lost no time in pushing his success in the only

quarter where he now had anything to fear. The combination of the

Nana in the cabinet and Holkar with an Europeanized army in the

field, was a serious menace to his power; and with enterprising

versatility he resolved at once to counteract it. With this view

he obtained khillats of investiture, for the Peshwa and for

himself, from the Emperor, and departed for Puna, where he

arrived after a slow triumphal progress, on the 11th of June,

1792. On the 20th of the same month the ceremony took place with

circumstances of great magnificence; the successful deputy

endeavouring to propitiate the hostility of the Nana by appearing

in his favourite character of the Beadle, and carrying the

Peshwa's slippers, while the latter sate splendidly attired upon

a counterfeit of the peacock throne. All men have their foibles,

and Sindhia's was histrionism, which imposed on no one. The thin

assumption of humility by a dictator was despised, and the

splendid caparisons of the nominal chief were ridiculed by the

Mahrattas and Brahmans of the old school.

Meanwhile Holkar saw his opportunity and struck his blow.

Profiting by the absence of his rival, he for the first time

since 1773, advanced on Hindustan; and summoning Ismail Beg like

an evil spirit from his temporary obscurity, he hurled him upon

the country round the capital, while he himself lost no time in

forcing a rupture with Sindhia's civil deputy in Rajputana.

In the northern part of the Rewari country is a place called

Kanaund; about equidistant from Dehli and Hansi, to the south of

both cities. Here Najaf Kuli Khan had breathed his last in a

stronghold of earth faced with stone, on the borders of the great

Bikanir desert, among sand-hills and low growths of tamarisk; and

here his widow — a sister of the deceased Gholam Kadir —

continued to reside. A call to surrender the fort to Sindhia's

officers being refused by the high-spirited Pathan lady, gave

Ismail Beg occasion to reappear upon the scene. He hastened to

her aid, but found the place surrounded by a force under the

command of M. Perron, a French officer whose name will often

recur hereafter. The Beg, as usual, attacked furiously, and, as

usual, was defeated. He took refuge in the fort which he

contrived to enter, and the defence of which he conducted for

some time. But the lady being killed by a shell, the garrison

lost heart, and began to talk of throwing overboard the Moghul

Jonah. The latter, obtaining from Perron a promise of his life

being spared, and having that strong faith in the truth of his

promise which is the real homage that Asiatics pay to Europeans,

lost no time in coming into camp, and was sent into confinement

at Agra, where he remained till his death a few years later.

Francklin, writing about 1794, says that he had no chance of

deliverance so long as Mahratta sway endured at Dehli; but that

he might, otherwise, still live to play a conspicuous part. But I

believe he died about four years later. His residence was in the

quarters near the Dehli Gate of the Fort, popularly known as Dan

Sah Jat's house, still standing.

De Boigne meantime took the field in person against Holkar, who

brought against him not only the usual host of Mahratta horsemen,

but, what was far more formidable, four battalions of sepoys

under Colonel du Drenec. The forces of the Empire, of somewhat

inferior strength, brought Holkar to action at Lakhairi, not far

from Kanaund, and on the road to Ajmir. The battle which ensued,

which was fought in the month of September, 1792, was considered

by M. de Boigne as the most obstinate that he ever witnessed. The

ground had been skilfully chosen by du Drenec; he held the crest

of a pass, his rear being partly protected by a wood; a marsh

covered his front, while the sides were flanked by forests. The

regular infantry was supported by a strong artillery, and guarded

by 30,000 cavalry. Having reconnoitred this position from a

rising ground, de Boigne advanced under a discouraging fire from

Holkar's batteries; and as his own guns — whose advance had been

unexpectedly impeded — came into action he hoped to silence those

of the enemy. But his artillery officer was unlucky that day. A

tumbril being struck in de Boigne's batteries, led to the

explosion of ten or twelve others; and Holkar observing the

confusion, endeavoured to extricate his cavalry from the trees,

and charge, while du Drenec engaged the enemy's infantry. But the

charge of Holkar's horse was confused and feeble (here Ismail

Beg's absence must have been felt), and de Boigne sheltering his

men in another wood, soon repulsed the cavalry with a

well-directed and well-sustained discharge from 9,000 muskets. As

they retreated, he launched his own cavalry upon them, and drove

them off the field. It was now his turn once more to advance.

Re-forming his infantry and guns in the shelter of the thick

tree-growth, he fell upon the left of the enemy where the

regulars still maintained themselves. Raw levies as they were,

they fought bravely but unskilfully till they were annihilated;

their European officers were nearly all slain, and their guns

taken, to the number of thirty-eight. The battle was lost without

retrieval, mainly owing to the inefficiency of Holkar's horse;

thus vindicating the wise, if premature, confidence of Ibrahim

Gardi at Panipat more than thirty years before. Holkar, with the

remnant of: his army, crossed the Chambal, and fell back on

Malwa, where he revenged himself by sacking Ujain, one of

Sindhia's chief cities.

While these things were taking place, a new rebuff was being

prepared for himself by the Emperor, from whom neither age nor

misfortune had taken that levity of character which, partly

inherited from his ancestors, partly constitutional to himself,

formed at once his chief weakness and his greatest consolation.

In his dependent condition, enjoying but the moderate stipend of

ninety thousand pounds a year for his whole civil list — and that

not punctually paid — the blind old man turned envious thoughts

upon the prosperity of the provinces which he had formerly ceded

to his old protectors, the British. Accordingly, in July 1792,

the Court newsman of Dehli was directed to announce that

despatches had been sent to Punah, instructing Sindhia to collect

tribute from the administration of Bengal. A similar attempt had

been made, it will be remembered, though without success, in 1785

(vide sup. Pt. II. c. iv. in fin. ) The present attempt fared no

better. This hint was taken certainly, but not in a way that

could have been pleasant to those who gave it; for it was taken

extremely ill. In a state-paper of the 2nd of August, Lord

Cornwallis, the then Governor General, gave orders that

information should be conveyed to Madhoji Sindhia to the effect

that in the present condition of the Dehli court he, Sindhia,

would be held directly responsible for every writing issued in

the name of the Emperor, and that any attempt to assert a claim

to tribute from the British Government would be "warmly

resented." Once more the disinclination of the British to

interfere in the Empire was most emphatically asserted, but it

was added significantly, that if any should be rash enough to

insult them by an unjust demand or in any shape whatever, they

felt themselves both able and resolved to exact ample

satisfaction.

This spirited language, whether altogether in accordance with

abstract right or not, was probably an essential element in the

maintenance of that peaceful policy which prevailed in the

diplomatic valley that occurred between Warren Hastings and the

Marquess Wellesley. Sindhia (not unmindful of Popham's Gwalior

performance just twelve years before) hastened to assure the

British Government that he regarded them as supreme within their

own territories; and that, for his part, his sole and whole

object was to establish the Imperial authority in those

territories that were still subject to the Emperor.

In this he had perfectly succeeded. The fame of his political

sagacity, and the terror of General de Boigne's arms, were

acknowledged from the Satlaj to the Ganges, and from the

Himalayas to the Vindhyas. And for nearly ten years the history

of Hindustan is the biography of a few foreign adventurers who

owed their position to his successes. In the centre of the

dominions swayed by the Dictator-Beadle were quartered two who

had attained to almost royal state in the persons of General de

Boigne and the Begam Sumroo: the one at Sardhana, the other at

Aligarh. The Chevalier du Drenec, who had not been well used by

Holkar, left (without the slightest blame) the service of that

unprosperous chief, and joined his quasi-compatriot and former

antagonist, the Savoyard de Boigne, as the commandant of a

battalion. The "dignity of History" in the last century has not

deigned to preserve any particulars of the private life of these

gallant soldiers; but one can fancy them of an evening at a table

furnished with clumsy magnificence, and drinking bad claret

bought up from the English merchants of Calcutta at fabulous

prices; not fighting over again the battle of Lakhairi, but

rather discussing the relative merits of the slopes of the Alps

and the cliffs of the Atlantic; admitting sorrowfully the merits

of the intermediate vineyards, or trilling to the bewilderment of

their country-born comrades, light little French songs of love

and wine.

Among the officers of the Begam's army there would be few

congenial companions for such men. The Brigadier, Colonel

Levaissoult (or le Vasseur; it is impossible to be quite sure of

these names as manipulated by the natives of India), seems to

have been a young man of some merit. Her only other European

officer who was at all distinguished was an Irishman named George

Thomas, who had deserted from a man-of-war in Madras Roads about

ten years before, and after some obscure wanderings in the

Carnatic, had entered the Begam's service, and distinguished

himself, as we have seen, in the rescue of Shah Alam before

Gokalgarh, in 1788. The officers of the Begam's little army had

never recovered the taint thrown over the service by its original

founder, the miscreant Sumroo, and the merits of the gallant

young Irishman, tall, handsome, intrepid, and full of the

reckless generosity of his impulsive race, soon raised him to

distinction. About his military genius, untaught as it must have

been, there could be no doubt in the minds of those who had seen

the originality of his movement at Golkalgarh; his administrative

talents, one would suppose, must have given some indication by

this time of what they were hereafter to appear in a more leading

character, and upon a larger stage.

Some time in 1792 the partiality of the Begam for M. Levaissoult

began to show itself; and Mr. Thomas who was not only conscious

of his own merits, but had all the hatred of a Frenchman which

characterized the British tar of those days, resolved to quit her

service and attempt a more independent career. With this view he

retired, in the first instance, to Anupshahar on the Ganges, so

often noticed in these pages, and now, for some time, the

cantonment of the frontier brigade of the English establishment

in the Presidency of the Fort William. Here he found a hospitable

welcome, and from this temporary asylum commenced a

correspondence with Appa Khandi Rao, a chief whom he had formerly

met in the Mahratta army, and whose service he presently entered

with an assignment of land in Ismail Beg's former Jaigir of

Mewat. In the Mewat country he remained for the next eighteen

months, engaged in a long and arduous attempt to subjugate his

nominal subjects; in which employment we must for the present

leave him engaged.

In the meanwhile the Begam had been married to M. Levaissoult,

according to the rites of the ancient Church to which both

adhered. Unfortunately for the lady's present reputation and the

gentleman's official influence, the marriage was private; the

only witnesses of the ceremony being two of the bridegroom's

friends, MM. Saleur and Bernier.

All this time Sindhia was at Punah endeavouring to raise his

influence in the Mahratta country to something like a level with

his power in Hindustan. But the situation was one of much greater

difficulty in the former instance than in the latter. In the one

case he had to deal with a blind old voluptuary, of whom he was

sole and supreme master; in the other the sovereign Madhu Rao

Peshwa was in the vigour of life, and had a confidential adviser

in the Nana Farnavis, who was almost a match for the Patel in

ability, and had an undoubted superiority in the much greater

unity of his objects and the comparative narrowness of his field

of action. It is no part of my task to trace the labyrinth of

Mahratta politics in a work which merely professes to sketch the

anarchy of Hindustan; it will be sufficient for our present

purpose to state that the Tarikh-i-Muzafari, the Persian history

to which we have heretofore been so largely indebted, notices an

incident as occurring at this time which is not detailed in the

usually complete record of Captain Grant Duff, though it is not

at variance with the account that he gives of Punah politics in

1794. The Persian author briefly states that the Peshwa (whose

mind was certainly at this time much embittered against Madhoji

Sindhia) sent assassins to waylay him at a little distance from

the city, against whose attack the Patel defended himself with

success, but only escaped at the expense of some severe wounds.

From the situation of the writer, who appears always to have

lived in Bihar or Hindustan, as well as from the vagueness with

which he tells the story, it is evidently a mere rumour deriving

some strength from the fact that Madhoji died at Wanauli, in the

neighbourhood of the Mahratta capital, on the 12th February of

that year, in the midst of intrigues in which he was opposed, not

only by the Nana, but by almost all the chiefs of the old

Mahratta party.

An interesting and careful, though friendly analysis of the

Patel's character will be found in the fifth chapter of Grant

Duff's third volume. As evinced in his proceedings in Hindustan,

we have found him a master of untutored statecraft, combining in

an unusual manner the qualities of prudence in counsel and

enterprise in action; tenacious of his purposes, but a little

vulgar in his means of affecting opinion. He was possessed of the

accomplishment of reading and writing; was a good accountant and

versed in revenue administration; and thus able to act for

himself, instead of being obliged, like most Mahratta leaders, to

put himself into the hands of designing Brahmans. My valued

friend Sir Dinkar Rao informs me that, among other traditions of

high Mahratta society, he has been told by aged men that the

Maharaja was never known to evince serious displeasure save with

cowards and men who fled in battle. To all others his favour was

equal, and solely apportioned to merit, no matter what might be

their creed, caste, or colour. He showed discrimination and

originality in the wholesale reform that he introduced into the

organization of the army, and the extensive scale on which he

employed the services of soldiers trained and commanded by men of

a hardier race than themselves. Sic fortis Etruria crevit; and it

is curious to find the same circumstances which in the Middle

Ages of Europe caused the greatness of the Northern Italian

States thus reproducing themselves in the Italy of the East.

NOTE. — The following extract from the Dehli Gazette of June 5th,

1874, gives the existing tradition as to the domicile of the

officers at Aligarh: — "De Boigne lived in his famous mansion,

called Sahib Bagh, between the fort and city, and on leaving for

France he gave it to Perron, who considerably improved the

building and garden, which was well laid out with all

descriptions of fruit trees procured from distant climes. He so

adorned the place that it was said by the French officers that

the garden was next to that of Ram Bagh, on the Agra river, so

beautiful was the scenery. Perron had a number of officers in his

army, English, French, and Italian. Next to Perron was Colonel

Pedron, who commanded the fortress of Allygurh; this officer had

his mansion in an extensive garden, which at the British conquest

was converted into the Judges' Court, and the site is the same

where it now stands. There are still some old jamun trees of the

said garden in the school compound. Chevalier Dudernaque was

another officer of distinction in Perron's Brigade; his house was

on the edge of the city, it still stands in the occupancy of

Khooshwuk Allee, a respectable Mahomedan, who has an Illaqua in

Sahnoul." — History of Coel. Aligurhs, by an Old Resident.

CHAPTER II.

A.D. 1794-1800.

Daulat Rao Sindhia — Thomas adopted by Appa Khandi Rao —

Revolution at Sardhana — Begam Sumroo attacked but delivered —

Begam Sumroo becomes a wiser Woman — Movements of Afghans — De

Boigne retires — General Perron — Musalman intrigues — Afghans

checked — Succession in Audh — War of "The Bais" — Afghans and

British — Rising of Shimbunath — Thomas independent — Revolt of

Lakwa Dada — Holkar's defeat at Indor — Power of Perron.

1794. — THE powers and dignities of the old Patel were peaceably

assumed by Daulat Rao, the son of the deceased's youngest nephew,

whom he had, shortly before his death made preparations to adopt

as a son. This new minister was only in his fifteenth year, but

the chiefs of the Deccan soon becoming involved in war with their

Musalman neighbours, and Takuji Holkar shortly afterwards

becoming imbecile both in mind and in body, the young man had

leisure to consolidate his power. He retained eight battalions

always about him, under the command of a Neapolitan named Filose,

and continued to reside at Punah; the Begam Sumroo and her new

husband were at Sardhana; de Boigne at Aligarh; and Thomas still

engaged in conquering the country which had been nominally

conferred upon him by a chieftain who had no right to it himself.

Nothing can better show the anarchy that prevailed than such a

state of things as this last mentioned.

The news of Madhoji's death, and the short suspense that followed

on the subject of the succession, caused some little confusion at

Dehli, and led Appa Khandi Rao to visit the metropolis, on which

occasion Thomas attended him. Here they received investiture to

their several fiefs from Sindhia's local representative, Gopal

Rao Bhao; but it was not long before this chief, stirred up, says

Thomas's biographer, by the Begam and her husband, begam to

tamper with the fidelity of Appa Khandi's men, who mutinied and

confined their chief. Thomas retaliated by plundering the Begam's

estates to the south of Dehli, and loyally escorted his master to

Kanaund. On this occasion Appa (who seems not to have been

destitute of good impulses) adopted him as his son, made him some

handsome presents, and conferred upon him the management of

several contiguous tracts, yielding in all an annual revenue of

one lakh and a half of the money of those days.

One cannot wonder at the faith in the pagoda-tree which formed so

prominent an article of the English social creed of those days,

when we thus find a common sailor, at forty years of age,

attended by a body-guard of chosen cavaliers, and managing

districts as large and rich as many a minor kingdom. No doubt the

price paid was high. Thomas's exertions were evidently prodigious

and ceaseless; while his position — nay, his very existence — was

extremely precarious. On the other hand, his prospect of

realizing any part of his good fortune, and retiring to enjoy it

in his native Tipperary - which must have sometimes presented

itself to his mind — was certainly not hopeful. To the degenerate

Europeans of the present day, whose programme involves constant

holidays in a mountain climate, occasional furloughs to England,

and, when resident in India, a residence made endurable by

imported luxuries, and by every possible precaution against heat,

there is something almost incredible in this long life of exile,

where the English language would not be heard for years, and

where quilted curtains and wooden shutters would be all the

protection of the most luxurious quarters, and an occasional

carouse upon fiery bazaar spirits the chief excitement of the

most peaceful intervals of repose. Such intervals, however, were

very rare; and the sense of constant struggles in which one's

success was entirely due to one's own merits, must have been the

chief reward of such a life as Thomas was now leading.

Foremost among the difficulties with which he had to contend was

the uncertain character of his chief: and he was at the time of

which we are treating — 1794 — strongly tempted by Lakwa Dada to

enter the service of Sindhia, in which he was offered the command

of 2,000 horse. This temptation, however, he manfully resisted,

and continued true to Appa, even though that chief was neither

true to his follower nor to himself. Whilst thus engaged in a

cause of but small promise, he was once more exposed to the

machinations of the Begam, who, influenced by her husband,

marched into Thomas's new district and encamped about three

marches S.E. from Jhajar, at the head of a force of four

battalions of infantry, twenty guns, and four squadrons of horse.

Thomas made instant preparations to meet the invasion, when it

was suddenly rolled away in a manner which presents one of the

characteristic dissolving views of that extraordinary period.

The ruffianly character of most of the officers in the Sardhana

service has been already mentioned. With the exception of one or

two, they could not read or write, and they had all the debauched

habits and insolent bearing which are the besetting sins of the

uneducated European in India; especially when to the natural

pride of race are added the temptations of a position of

authority for which no preparation has been made in youth. Among

these men (whom Le Vaissoult, not unnaturally, refused to admit

to his dinner-table) was a German or Belgian, now only known to

us by the nickname of Liegeois, probably derived from his native

place. With this man it is supposed that Thomas now opened a

correspondence by means of which he practiced on the disaffection

of his former comrades. The secrecy which the Begam continued to

preserve on the subject of her marriage naturally added to the

unpopularity of Le Vaissoult's position; and the husband and wife

hurried back to Sardhana on learning that the officers had

commenced negotiations with Aloysius the son of the deceased

Sumroo, who resided at Dehli with the title of Nawab Zafaryab

Khan, and had carried over with them a portion of the troops.

Finding the situation untenable, they soon resolved on quitting

it and retiring into the territories of the British with their

portable property, estimated at about two lakhs of rupees. With

this view they wrote to Colonel McGowan, commanding the brigade

at Anupshahar; and finding that officer scrupulous at

participating at the desertion of an Imperial functionary, Le

Vaissoult, in April, 1794, addressed the Governor General direct.

The result was that Sindhia's permission was obtained to a secret

flitting; and Le Vaissoult was to be treated as a prisoner of

war, allowed to reside with his wife at Chandarnagar.

Towards the end of 1795, Zafaryab, at the head of the revolted

soldiery set out from Dehli; determined, by what judicial

stupidity I cannot tell, to cut off the escape of that enemy for

whom, if he had been wise, he ought to have paved the road, had

it been with silver. The intelligence of this movement

precipitated Le Vaissoult's measures; and he set out with his

wife — the latter was in a palankeen, the former armed and on

horseback — with a mutual engagement between them that neither

was to survive if certified of the death of the other. The troops

who still remained at Sardhana, either corrupted by the

mutineers, or willing to secure the plunder before the latter

should arrive, immediately set out in pursuit. The sequel is thus

told by Sleeman, who gathered his information from eye-witnesses

on the spot: — "They had got three miles on the road to Meerut,

when they found the battalions gaining fast upon the palankeen.

Le Vaissoult drew a pistol from his holster and urged on the

bearers. He could have easily galloped off and saved himself, but

he would not quit his wife's side. At last the soldiers came up

close behind them. The female attendants of the Begam began to

scream, and looking into the litter, Le Vaissoult observed the

white cloth that covered the Begam's breast stained with blood.

She had stabbed herself, but the dagger had struck against one of

the bones of her chest, and she had not courage to repeat the

blow. Her husband put the pistol to his temple and fired. The

ball passed through his head, and he fell dead to the ground."

This tragedy is somewhat differently detailed in the account

furnished by Thomas to his biographer, which is made to favour

the suspicion that the Begam intentionally deceived her husband

in order to lead him to commit suicide. Thomas says that Le

Vaissoult was riding at the head of the procession, and killed

himself on receiving a message from the rear attested by the

sight of a blood-stained garment borne by the messenger: but it

is hard to see why a man in his position should have been absent

from his wife's side at such a critical moment. Thomas was

naturally disposed to take an unfavourable view of the Begam's

conduct; but the immediate results of the scene were certainly

not such as to support the theory of her having any understanding

with the mutineers. She was carried back to the Fort, stripped of

her property, and tied under a gun. In this situation she

remained several days, and would have died of starvation but for

the good offices of a faithful ayah, who continued to visit her

mistress, and supply her more pressing necessities.

The new Nawab was a weak and dissolute young man; and the Begam

had a friend among the officers, Saleur, whom the reader may

recollect as one of the witnesses of her marriage. She was ere

long released, and M. Saleur lost no time in communicating with

Thomas, whose aid he earnestly invoked. The generous Irishman,

forgetful of the past, at once wrote strongly to his friends in

the service, pointing out that the disbandment of the force would

be the only possible result of their persisting in disorderly

conduct, so detrimental to the welfare of the Emperor and his

minister. He followed up this peaceful measure by a rapid march

on Sardhana, where he surprised the Nawab by dashing upon him at

the head of the personal escort of horse, which formed part of

the retinue of every leader of those days. The troops, partly

corrupted, partly intimidated, tired of being their own masters,

and disappointed in Zafaryab, made a prisoner of their new chief.

He was plundered to the skin, and sent back to Dehli under

arrest; while the Begam, by the chivalry of one she had ill-used

for years, recovered her dominions, and retained them unmolested

for the rest of her life. The secret of her behaviour is probably

not very difficult of discovery. Desirous of giving to her

passion for the gallant young Frenchman the sanction of her

adopted religion, she was unwilling to compromise her position as

Sumroo's heir by a publicly acknowledged re-marriage. She had

large possessions and many enemies; so that, once determined to

indulge her inclinations, she had to choose between incurring

scandalous suspicions, and jeopardising a succession which would

be contested, if she were known to have made a fresh and an

unpopular marriage.

M. Saleur was now appointed to the command of the forces; but the

astute woman never again allowed the weakness of her sex to

imperil her sovereignty; and from the period of her restoration

by Thomas (who spent two lakhs of rupees in the business), to the

date of her death in 1836, her supremacy was never again menaced

by any domestic danger. Having, as far as can be conjectured, now

arrived at the ripe age of forty-two, it may be hoped that she

had learned to conquer the impulse that sometimes leads a female

sovereign to make one courtier her master, at the expense of

making all the rest her enemies. The management of her extensive

territories henceforward occupied her chief attention, and they

were such as to require a very great amount of labour and time

for their effective supervision: stretching from the Ganges to

beyond the Jamna, and from the neighbourhood of Aligarh to the

north of Mozafarnagar. There was also a Jaigir on the opposite

side of the Jamna, which has formed the subject of litigation

between her heirs and the Government in recent times. Her

residence continued to be chiefly at Sardhana, where she

gradually built the palace, convent, school, and cathedral, which

are still in existence. Peace and order were well kept throughout

her dominions; no lawless chiefs were allowed to harbour

criminals and defraud the public revenue; and the soil was

maintained in complete cultivation. This is considerable praise

for an Asiatic ruler; the reverse of the medal will have to be

looked at hereafter.

Death soon relieved her of all anxiety on the score of her

undutiful stepson, who drank himself to death in his arrest at

Dehli, leaving a daughter, who married a Mr. Dyce, and became the

mother of Mr. D. O. Dyce-Sombre, whose melancholy story is fresh

in the memory of the present generation. Zafaryab Khan was buried

like his infamous father at Agra. But his monument is not in the

cemetery, but in a small church since secularized.

Thomas was now, for the moment, completely successful. The

intrigues of his Mahratta enemy Gopal Rao ended in that officer

being superseded, and Thomas's friend Lakwa Dada became

Lieutenant-General in Hindustan. Appa Khandi, it is true,

commenced a course of frivolous treachery towards his faithful

servant and adopted son, which can only be accounted for on the

supposition of a disordered intellect; but Thomas remained in the

field, everywhere putting down opposition, and suppressing all

marauding, unless when his necessities tempted him to practise it

on his own account.

About this time we begin, for the first time, to find mention of

the threatening attitude of the Afghans, which was destined to

exercise on the affairs of Hindustan an influence so important,

yet so different from what the invaders themselves could have

anticipated. Timur Shah, the kinsman to whom Shah Alam alludes in

his poem, had died in June, 1793; and after a certain amount of

domestic disturbance, one of his sons had succeeded under the

title of Zaman Shah. The Calcutta Gazette of 28th May, 1795, thus

notices the new ruler:—

"Letters from Dehli mention that Zaman Shah, the ruler of the

Abdalees, meditated an incursion into Hindustan, but had been

prevented, for the present, by the hostility of his brothers. . .

. . We are glad to hear the Sikhs have made no irruption into the

Doab this season."

This Zaman Shah is the same who died, many years later, a blind

pensioner of the English at Ludiana; and for the restoration of

whose dynasty, among other objects, the British expedition to

Kabul in 1839 took place.

To this period also belongs the unsuccessful attempt to revive

Musalman power in the South of India, in which the Nizam of the

Deccan engaged with the aid of his French General, the famous

Raymond. The battle fought at Kardla, near Ahmadnagar, on the

12th March, 1795, is remarkable for the number of Europeans and

their trained followers who took part on either side. On the

Nizam's side, besides a vast force of horse and foot of the

ordinary Asiatic kind, there were no less than 17,000 infantry

under Raymond, backed by a large force of regular cavalry and

artillery. The Mahrattas had 10,000 regulars under Perron, 5,000

under Filose, 3,000 under Hessing, 4,500 under du Drenec and

Boyd. An animated account of this battle will be found in Colonel

Malleson's excellent book, The Final Struggles of the French in

India, in which, with admirable research and spirit, the gallant

author has done justice to the efforts of the brave Frenchmen by

whom British victory was so often checked in its earlier flights.

The power of the Musalmans was completely broken by Perron and

his associates on this occasion. It is further remarkable as the

last general assembly of the chiefs of the Mahratta nation under

the authority of their Peshwa (Grant Duff, ii. 284-8). The Moghul

power in the Deccan was only preserved by the intervention of the

British, and has ever since been dependent on their Government.

Early in 1796 a change was perceptible in the health of General

de Boigne, which time and war had tried for nearly a quarter of a

century in various regions. He had amassed a considerable fortune

by his exertions during this long period, and entertained the

natural desire of retiring with it to his native country. Sindhia

had no valid ground for opposing his departure, and he set out

for Calcutta somewhere about the middle of the year, accompanied

by his personal escort — mounted upon choice Persian horses — who

were afterwards taken into the British Governor's body-guard. In

the profession of a soldier of fortune, rising latterly to almost

unbounded power, de Boigne had shown all the virtues that are

consistent with the situation. By simultaneous attention to his

own private affairs he amassed a fortune of nearly half a million

sterling, which he was fortunate enough to land in his own

country, where it must have seemed enormous. He lived for many

years after as a private gentleman in Savoy, with the title of

Count, and visitors from India were always welcome and sure of

being hospitably entertained by the veteran with stories of

Mahratta warfare. On the 1st February, 1797, he was succeeded,

after some brief intermediate arrangements, by M. Perron, an

officer of whom we have already had some glimpses, and whom de

Boigne considered as a steady man and a brave soldier. Like

Thomas, he had come to India in some humble capacity on board a

man-of-war, and had first joined the native service under Mr.

Sangster, as a non-commissioned officer. De Boigne gave him a

company in the first force which he raised, with the title of

Captain-Lieut. On the absconding of Lestonneaux, in 1788, as

above described — when that officer was supposed to have

appropriated the plunder taken by Gholam Kadir on his flight from

Meerut — Perron succeeded to the command of a battalion, from

which, after the successes of the army against Ismail Beg, he

rose to the charge of a brigade. He was now placed over the whole

regular army, to which the civil administration, on de Boigne's

system, was inseparably attached, and under him were brigades

commanded by Colonel du Drenec and by other officers, chiefly

French, of whom we shall see more hereafter. De Boigne, while

entertaining a high opinion of Perron's professional ability,

seems to have misdoubted his political wisdom, for both Fraser

and Duff assert that he solemnly warned Daulat Rao Sindhia

against those very excesses into which — partly by Perron's

counsel — he was, not long after, led. "Never to offend the

British, and sooner to discharge his troops than risk a war," was

the gist of the General's parting advice.

Sindhia remaining in the Deccan, in pursuance of his uncle's plan

of managing both countries at once, the ax-Sergeant became very

influential in Hindustan, where (jealousies with his Mahratta

colleagues excepted) the independent career of George Thomas was

the only serious difficulty with which he had to contend.

For the present the two seamen did not come in contact, for

Thomas confined his operations to the west and north-west, and

found his domestic troubles and the resistance of the various

neighbouring tribes sufficient to fully occupy his attention.

Scarcely had he patched up a peace with his treacherous employer,

and brought affairs in Mewat to something like a settlement, when

his momentary quiet was once more disturbed by the intelligence

that Appa had committed suicide by drowning himself, and that his

son and successor, Vaman Rao, was showing signs of an intention

to imitate the conduct of the deceased in its untruthful and

unreliable character. With the exception of a brief campaign in

the Upper Doab, in which the fortified towns of Shamli and

Lakhnaoti had rebelled, Thomas does not appear to have had any

active employment until he finally broke with Vaman Rao.

The rebellion of the Governor of Shamli (which Thomas suppressed

with vigour) seems to have been connected with the movements of

the restless Rohillas of the Najibabad clan, whose chief was now

Bhanbu Khan, brother of the late Gholam Kadir, and an exile among

the Sikhs since the death of his brother and the destruction of

the Fort of Ghausgarh. Profiting by the long-continued absence of

Sindhia, he re-opened that correspondence with the Afghans which

always formed part of a Mohamadan attempt in Hindustan, and

appealed, at the same time, to the avarice of the Sikhs, which

had abundantly recovered its temporary repulse by Mirza Najaf in

1779. The grandson of the famous Abdali soon appeared at Peshawar

at the head of 33,000 Afghan horse. But the Sikhs and Afghans

soon quarrelled; a desperate battle was fought between them at

Amritsar, in which, after a futile cannonade, the Sikhs flung

themselves upon Zaman's army in the most reckless manner. The

aggregate losses were estimated at 35,000 men. The Shah retreated

upon Lahor; and the disordered state of the Doab began to be

reflected in the only half-subdued conquests of the Viceroy of

Audh in Rohilkand.

At this crisis 'Asaf-ud-daulah, the then holder of this title,

died at Lucknow, 21st September, 1797, and it was by no means

certain that his successor, Vazir 'Ali, would not join in the

reviving struggles of his co-religionists. It must be remembered

that, in virtue of its subjugation to the Sindhias, the Empire

was now regarded as a Hindu power, and that Shia and Sunni might

well be expected to join, as against the Mahrattas or the

English, however they might afterwards quarrel over the spoil,

should success attend their efforts. Furthermore it is to be

noted that in this or the following year the Afghans, under Zaman

Shah, were known to be advancing again upon Lahor.

This state of things appeared to the then Governor-General of the

British possessions sufficiently serious to warrant an active

interposition. The calm courage of Sir John Shore, who held a

local investigation into what, to most politicians, might have

appeared a very unimportant matter — namely, whether the

heir-apparent was really 'Asaf-ud-daulah's son or not; the grave

decision against his claims (the claims of a de facto prince);

his deposition and supersession by his eldest uncle, Saadat 'Ali

the Second; and Vazir 'Ali's subsequent violence, when, too late

to save his throne, he contrived, by the gratuitous murder of Mr.

Cherry, the British resident at Benares, to convert his position

from that of a political martyr to that of a life-convict, are

all amply detailed in the well-known History of Mill, and in the

Life of Lord Teignmouth by his son. Shore, at the same time, sent

an embassy to Persia under Mahdi 'Ali Khan, the result of which

was an invasion of Western Afghanistan and the consequent

retirement of the Shah from the Panjab. The events referred to

only so far belong to the History of Hindustan, that they are a

sort of crepuscular appearance there of British power, and show

how the most upright and moderate statesmen of that nation were

compelled, from time to time, to make fresh advances into the

political sphere of the Empire.

About this time died Takaji Holkar, who had lately ceased to play

any part in the politics, either of Hindustan or of the Deccan.

He was no relation, by blood, of the great founder of the house

of Holkar, Malhar Rao; but he had carried out the traditionary

policy of the clan, which may be described in two words —

hostility to Sindhia, and alliance with any one, Hindu or

Musalman, by whom that hostility might be aided. He was succeeded

by his illegitimate son Jaswant Rao, afterwards to become famous

for his long and obstinate resistance to the British; but for the

present only remarkable for the trouble that he soon began to

give Daulat Rao Sindhia.