be used, of our British Empire in the East; but his wars had been
costly, and his temper was too imperious to commend itself either
to the Directors of the East India Company or to the Board of
Control which represented the Imperial Governments authority in
India. He was therefore recalled, and was succeeded first by Lord
Cornwallis--who died almost immediately--and then for a time by Sir
George Barlow, the senior member of the Council.
Meanwhile there suddenly burst upon British India an unsuspected
and appalling danger. Owing to injudicious interference by officers
of the King's service who held high command in the Madras Army,
regulations were introduced which ignored the caste marks of the
Sepoys. Silently but effectually correspondence was established
between the Company's battalions all over the Presidency; and
a general insurrection was concerted for the autumn of 1806.
Favourable circumstances caused the garrison at Vellore to rise
prematurely; when eighteen hundred Sepoys made a general attack
upon all the Europeans in the fort, murdered several, and were
within an ace of complete success. The situation was saved by
Colonel Gillespie of the Nineteenth Light Dragoons, who galloped
to the spot with his regiment and two guns, forced an entrance
into the fort, rallied the Europeans and destroyed the mutineers
almost to a man. They had already succeeded in killing and
wounding over two hundred British soldiers, so no mercy was shown
to them. The service rendered by Gillespie upon this occasion
was beyond estimation great; and it was a matter of extreme good
fortune that such a man--ready, energetic and of almost incredible
courage--should have been within reach at such a crisis. But for
his bravery and promptitude the entire native army of Madras might
have mutinied, and the evil might have spread until it threatened
the actual existence of the British in India. With her resources
strained to the utmost by the struggle with Napoleon England would
have found reconquest a difficult matter; and in short, but for
Gillespie, the mutiny of Vellore might have altered the whole
course of European as well as Indian history.
Hardly was this peril passed away, when a trouble, almost
incredibly strange and formidable, followed upon it. As the
Directors had complained of extravagance and expensive wars, Sir
George Barlow thought fit, in a true English spirit, to cut down
above all things military expenditure; and this he did mainly by
reducing certain allowances to the officers of the Company's army.
Now the discipline of the British officers of that army was in
a very bad state. For the King's army the King himself was the
fountain of honour, and rewards for good service took the form of
the Royal approbation publicly signified, of titles of honour,
or of the thanks of both Houses of Parliament. The Company's
army (except in rare instances) received only the thanks of the
Directors--a parcel of merchants in Leadenhall Street--which were
naturally little valued; except so far as they were supplemented
by grants of money, of which the officers, condemned to long exile
in an unhealthy climate, were very justly tenacious. Hence they
had instituted the practice of passing votes of appreciation and
approbation of each other, which was most pernicious to discipline.
This might rightly have been put down with a strong hand; but
the reduction of pecuniary allowances was a real grievance; and
the officers met it with a number of absurd and insubordinate
resolutions. Barlow was a strong and determined man, but he hated
soldiers; and, instead of appealing to the better feelings of the
officers and using tact as well as firmness, he sent spies among
them, suspended them arbitrarily right and left without trial, and
employed emissaries to wean the devotion of the Sepoys from their
regimental officers--this last an inconceivably dangerous measure.
To be brief, in 1809 he succeeded in driving the officers into open
mutiny, which was not suppressed without bloodshed; and in fact the
trouble was only ended by the advent of his successor, Lord Minto;
the officers yielding readily to him but declining altogether to
submit to Sir George Barlow. The ill-feeling bred by this mutiny
lasted for thirty years, and was not without its effect upon the
greater Mutiny of 1857.
To return to more general matters, the policy of the Directors in
holding aloof from affairs outside their own territory produced the
worst consequences.
Lord Minto, equally with Barlow, shrank from any imitation of Lord
Wellesley's masterful keeping of the peace. The result was that
Central India became the resort of large bands of free-booters,
who ultimately rallied themselves, thirty thousand strong, under
the name of Pindaris, with a single leader Amir Khan, and bade
fair to destroy the Rajputs, who were our friends, altogether.
The danger was the greater, inasmuch as the beaten Maratha
leaders were chafing under their defeat, and were likely to use
the Pindaris as allies. Central India in fact was in a most
deplorable condition, when Minto was succeeded in 1814 by Lord
Moira, better known as Marquess Hastings, a very able soldier and
a resolute man, who realised at once that anarchy must be stopped
in Hindostan, otherwise something worse than anarchy might result
from it. His first trouble was with the Nepalis or Gurkhas, who
were encroaching upon British lands in Bengal and in 1814 actually
seized two districts. Hastings at once resolved upon war, and sent
an army to penetrate the passes into the mountains. The expedition
is noteworthy, for it was the first of our many invasions into the
great hill ranges which surround the north of India. The operations
were not easy; and it was necessary to invade the frontier in four
different columns, varying in strength from four to eight thousand
men. One of these was thrice repulsed in attacks upon a hill-fort;
and Gillespie, its commander, was killed. There were slight
reverses in other parts also, for some of the British officers
showed anything but ability; but all was redeemed by the brilliant
conduct of General David Ochterlony, commanding the most westerly
of the four divisions, who broke through the whole of the Gurkha
defences before him, and forced them in the summer of 1815 to sue
for peace. Hostilities were renewed, however, the next year, when
Ochterlony, now in supreme command, by further operations drove
the Gurkhas to submission. They ceded to us a long tract of the
Lower Himalayas, and thus our frontier was brought up to that of
the Chinese Empire. Since then there has been unbroken friendship
between England and Nepal; and there are no more loyal, efficient
and gallant troops in the Imperial service than the Gurkhas.
Meanwhile the situation in Central India had grown worse and
worse; and the Pindaris, secretly abetted by the Maratha chiefs,
made inroads upon British territory within Bengal and Madras. The
Rajputs implored the help of Hastings, who in 1817 set over one
hundred thousand men in motion, more than forty thousand from
the Dekhan, and more, than sixty thousand from Hindostan. The
occasion was worthy of so large a force, for three of the Maratha
chiefs, Peshwa, Holkar and Bonsla, had thrown in their lot with
the Pindaris. The Marathas were speedily weakened by three defeats
at Kirki, Sitabaldi and Mahidpur; and part of the armies were then
turned upon the Pindaris in converging columns, so as to break them
up completely. Defeat after defeat of these free-booters followed,
for every man's hand was against them. For years, owing to the
timidity of Minto, they had ridden roughshod over the unhappy
villagers with murder, torture and rapine, but now their time was
come. This campaign is the second instance of the employment of the
British cavalry in marches of astonishing length and swiftness to
exterminate bands of brigands. Arthur Wellesley had set the example
in 1800, and it was worthily followed now. Very soon but one
formidable band of Pindaris was left under a leader named Chitu,
who was hunted for days and weeks until he was driven at last into
the jungle and killed by a tiger. The remnant of the Peshwa's
Marathas was again defeated at Korigaon; his strongholds fell one
after another; and at length in March, 1819, the war was brought
to an end. The boundaries of the Maratha states were carefully
defined; their predatory system was utterly abolished; and their
territories were made subject to Wellesley's principle with regard
to troops, disputes with neighbours and relations with foreign
powers. Then for the first time for nearly two centuries there was
peace in Central India.
There were now but two points of disturbance on the British
frontier: in the north-west, where the genius of Ranjit Singh had
united the Sikhs into a single powerful and essentially military
nation by conquest; and in the north-east, where the Burmese
armies had carried aggression so far as to invade border-states
under British protection. The ill-deeds of these last caused Lord
Amherst, the Governor-General, to send in 1824 a formidable force
of eleven thousand men against them. Few expeditions have been
undertaken with more fatuous contempt of information and enquiry
than this one. The army was sent by sea to Rangoon with orders
to ascend the Irrawadi by water, capturing all the principal
cities which lie upon its banks, and so penetrating to Ava. As the
province of Pegu, in which Rangoon stands, was a comparatively
recent conquest of the Burmese, it was assumed that the inhabitants
would be friendly and native supplies plentiful. On the contrary
the troops found Rangoon deserted, no boats, no native pilots,
no supplies, and were obliged to remain in and about the city,
eating such salted and preserved provisions as they had brought
with them, until a fresh supply could be brought from India. This
accordingly they did, only making occasional sorties to prevent the
Burmese from hemming them in altogether. These were costly little
operations, for the Burmese threw up stockades with astonishing
skill and swiftness, and these required to be stormed. On several
occasions attacks upon them were repulsed with loss. Having arrived
at the beginning of the rainy season in order to have plenty of
water to ascend the river, the British had to endure all the misery
and unhealthiness of the rains, aggravated by bad food, with the
result that sickness made havoc of the troops and reduced their
effective numbers at one moment to three thousand men. The Burmese
closed in upon them in force; but in December, 1824, were driven
back by a general attack upon their whole line.
When the news of the situation reached Calcutta the Government
sent out two additional expeditions to invade the province of Ava
overland, one from Manipur, the other from Chittagong. The first
route was found impracticable, owing to the density of the forest;
the second force, eleven thousand strong, advanced upon Aracan
and captured it, but failed, from neglect of sound geographical
information, to find a way to the army on the Irrawadi, which it
had been intended to join, and remained helpless and stationary.
One fourth of the men died during the rainy season of 1825, and
half of the survivors were in hospital. The main army meanwhile
advanced up the Irrawadi into the interior, captured Prome, and
after several smart actions arrived within sixty miles of Ava, when
the Burmese at the beginning of 1826 met them and made submission.
Assam, Aracan and Tennasserim were ceded to the British, and thus
some compensation was gained for a very costly and destructive
campaign. The casual fashion in which war had been begun in a
region of continuous marsh and forest at the beginning of the rainy
season, when the whole country was inundated, was thoroughly
English and most condemnable. Thousands of lives were sacrificed
which might have been saved, and it was fortunate that matters
fell out no worse than they did. Meanwhile the eternal assault of
stockades was very trying to the troops, and gave opportunities,
which were abundantly taken, for brilliant displays of valour.
While this was going on, the throne of Bhurtpore became vacant
through the death of the Rajah, and was usurped by a pretender.
This was a direct menace to the peace of India; and Sir David
Ochterlony, who was the Resident at Delhi, at once assembled
a force to drive out the usurper. So little, however, did the
Governor-General know his duty, that he countermanded the project
and publicly censured Ochterlony in terms of extravagant harshness.
The veteran General resigned, but was so much affected by Amherst's
foolish policy and by the slight put upon himself that he died soon
afterwards. Then of course Amherst was obliged to do at last what
he should have done at first, and Sir Stapleton Cotton was sent
with twenty thousand men to besiege the famous fortress which had
foiled the eager impetuosity of Lake. Its strength may be imagined
by the statistics that its circuit is five miles in extent, that
the ditch of the citadel was fifty yards wide and fifty feet deep,
and that the ramparts generally, besides being of great height and
thickness, were built of clay which refused to crumble away under
the battering of round shot. A bastion was therefore undermined and
blown up, and the place was stormed out of hand.
Lord Amherst was succeeded in 1828 by Lord William Bentinck,
a man who, having had Macaulay to write his epitaph, enjoys a
reputation far above his deserts. He was mediocre alike as soldier
and statesman, and had an extraordinary knack of doing foolish
things. While Governor-General his only idea was to save money
for the Directors--he even tried to sell the Taj Mahal, the gem
of Mohammedan architecture in India;--but he neglected to keep
the peace; he reduced the allowances of the European officers,
in direct breach of agreement; and finally, to curry favour with
the humanitarians, he, in the face of all advice from British and
native soldiers, abolished the punishment of the lash in the native
regiments. The mischief which he thus did was incalculable; for he
lowered the officers in the eyes of the natives, and so ruined the
discipline of the Sepoys that beyond doubt he was the greatest of
all contributors to the Mutiny of 1857. The Duke of Wellington, and
all who knew India, were furious with him; but being a sentimental
Whig, which is synonymous with a man of good intentions and bad
judgement, he found and still finds many admirers at home. Let
me beg you not to be carried away by their admiration. Bentinck
certainly did some good work, but an Indian administrator who ruins
the discipline of the army--and Bentinck undoubtedly did so--is not
only no statesman, but a foolish and mischievous person.
Bentinck was succeeded by Lord Auckland, whose name, unfortunately
for him, is bound up with the greatest of our military disasters
in India. Since the fall of Napoleon Russia had steadily pursued
her advance eastwards, and by 1828 had not only appropriated
some of the western territory of Persia but had gained paramount
influence in that country. Thus we found ourselves confronted
with the probability that we should presently have an European
Power of colossal strength for our neighbour; and the question was
how she should be kept at arm's length. The Government resolved
that a barrier must be formed in Afghanistan. That country had
lately passed out of the line of the creator of the Afghan kingdom
into the hands of a strong and competent usurper. Since Persia
threatened to indemnify herself for the territory lost to Russia
by encroachment upon Afghanistan, this usurper, Dost Mohammed, was
anxious for the English alliance. Lord Auckland on the contrary
preferred to support the legitimate sovereign, Shah Shuja, who was
an exile in the Punjab, and decided to replace him on the throne
by an armed force, on the assumption that such an ally would be
surer than Dost Mohammed. The operation was one of extreme danger,
for the British and Afghan boundaries were hundreds of miles apart.
Our base of operations was Scinde, a foreign state under rulers
unfriendly to us; and full upon our flank, able at any moment to
cut us off from India, lay the Sikhs, equally a foreign state,
nominally amicable but really very jealous, and in possession of a
powerful army.
A treaty was made with the Amirs of Scinde whereby we obtained the
right to use the navigation of the Indus. With enormous difficulty
transport and supplies were brought up to feed the armies during
the march through the barren passes of Afghanistan; and, after
frightful losses of animals and no small peril of starvation,
some fifteen thousand men and twenty thousand followers marched
by the Bolan and Khojak passes to Kandahar, opened the way from
thence to the capital by the storm of Ghazni; and in August, 1839,
escorted Shah Shuja into Kabul. Then the difficulties began. It
was very soon evident that, without a British force, Shah Shuja's
reign would be short; so one division of infantry and a little
cavalry and artillery were left to occupy the country, and the
rest of the army marched for India. Honours were lavished on the
commanders, and everyone flattered himself that the work was
done. Signs of insurrection, however, soon showed themselves;
and the British troops scattered about between Kabul, Ghazni,
Kandahar and Jelalabad were incessantly employed in putting down
tribal risings. By the autumn of 1840 the commander of the army of
occupation was crying out for reinforcements. The winter of 1840-1
passed away fairly quietly, and not until the following November
did the final insurrection at Kabul occur. The general in command
there was weak and incompetent; and the whole of his division was
cut to pieces. Ghazni and various small forts were captured; and,
though Jelalabad and Kandahar were stoutly held, all communication
with India was hopelessly cut off. It was necessary to send
practically a fresh army to relieve the beleaguered garrisons; but
the Indian Government was at first so panic-stricken as to lose
all thought of anything but the immediate withdrawal of the army
of occupation. The Governor-General, Lord Ellenborough, who had
succeeded Auckland, later bethought him that such a timid retreat
would endanger our whole Empire in India, but had not courage to
order a new advance upon Kabul. Happily the generals took the
responsibility which their superiors feared to incur. They did not
withdraw their armies until they had forced their way triumphantly,
the one by the Khyber Pass and Jelalabad, the other from Kandahar,
to Kabul. Then and not till then did they evacuate Afghanistan,
having shown that the British were still unconquerable. Even so the
principle upon which the operations were conducted was open to much
criticism, though everything was redeemed by the gallant behaviour
of the troops.
While withdrawing from Afghanistan, however, Lord Ellenborough
was anxious to retain our hold upon the lower Indus with the fort
of Karachi, which had been occupied temporarily as our base for
the late operations. Sir Charles Napier was therefore sent out to
Scinde with a small force to press upon the Amirs a treaty to that
effect. The Amirs very naturally resented the demand; whereupon
Napier instantly struck the first blow. His campaign is one which
every Englishman should know, and which none has any excuse for not
knowing; for its history was written by William Napier. Charles
Napier began by making a raid with five hundred and fifty men
mounted on camels across many miles of desert to a stronghold of
the Amirs, and blowing up the fort with gunpowder. On this march
he carried not only provisions but water for the whole force,
animals and men. Then returning to the Indus he marched south upon
Hyderabad with twenty-eight hundred men; and on the 17th of March,
1843, attacked between twenty and thirty thousand of the enemy at
Miani, in a strong position above the bed of a dry river. There
followed one of the greatest and most marvellous battles ever
fought by the British; and at the close of three hours the enemy
was hopelessly routed with a loss of five thousand men. Again the
Baluchis managed to collect twenty thousand men; and Napier, having
been reinforced to a strength of five thousand men, defeated them
in a second action of much the same kind at Dubba; after which he
with little more trouble completed the subjection of the Amirs.
Scinde was then annexed; and Napier as its first Governor showed
himself not less capable as an administrator than as a general.
By this time trouble had arisen in the dominions of Scindia
owing to the death of the Maharaja without issue; and an armed
insurrection broke out against the authority of the Regent accepted
by the British Government. The matter was one which at ordinary
times might have been adjusted by patience; but the attitude of
the Sikhs, which I shall describe immediately, was such that there
could be no trifling. The Maratha armies had been assembled, some
thirty thousand strong, including between them twenty-two thousand
men trained by European officers; and, with a disputed succession
in train, it was impossible to say what mischief their leaders
might work. Ellenborough therefore ordered a strong force to enter
Scindia's dominions in two columns, and the war was ended in one
day--29th of Dec. 1843--by the simultaneous victories of Sir Hugh
Gough at Maharajpore, and of General Grey at Punniar. These were
the last of our battles with the Marathas. They have never to this
day forgiven us for depriving them of the mastery of India; and in
1843, in consequence of our defeats in Afghanistan, they had been
stirring up hostility against us in every court of the East. The
double defeat therefore gave them a salutary lesson.
Lord Ellenborough was now recalled; and Sir Henry Hardinge, one
of Wellington's veterans and a highly accomplished soldier, came
out as Governor-General in his stead. The condition of the Punjab
was most critical. Ranjit Singh, the great leader and ruler of the
Sikhs, had died in 1839, leaving no strong man to succeed him.
The succession was of course disputed; and a course of risings,
mutinies and assassinations showed that the great Sikh state
was sinking into anarchy. All power had passed into the hands
of committees of regimental officers, who were in turn partly
controlled by the passions of their men. The nominal ruler could
think of no better resource than to turn the unruly host across
the Sutlej to fight the English, for which some recent frontier
disputes furnished sufficient pretext. Lord Hardinge, who had seen
what was coming, was ready for them, and some twelve thousand
men under Sir Hugh Gough advanced to meet them. Sir Hugh was a
very brave man but a very bad commander, who could not see a wall
without dashing his head against it. In the first action, Moodkee,
he hurried his troops into the fight with every disadvantage, and
though victorious lost nine hundred men. In the second action
three days later at Ferozeshah, he launched about sixteen thousand
British and Sepoys against fifty thousand Sikhs in a very strong
position, and was practically beaten at the close of the first
day's fighting, though he recovered himself on the second. In this
affair he threw away twenty-five hundred men; and on the night
after the first engagement the British Empire in India rocked for
some hours on the verge of ruin. A month later a far more telling
and scientific victory was won by Sir Harry Smith with a detachment
of the army at Aliwal; and then Gough made a final blundering
attack upon the Sikhs in a strongly entrenched position at Sobraon,
where, though the valour of his troops and the devotion of his
divisional generals won a decisive victory, it was at a cost once
more of nearly twenty-five hundred men.