The Princes quarrel—Attack on the Maharajah—His retreat—His
cowardice and accusations—The Pucca Senna departs also—Conduct
of the Jubraj.
Early in September, 1890, the storm that had long been gathering amongst
the princes at Manipur came to a head and burst. The spark that kindled
the blaze arose out of a very small matter indeed. The young prince
Zillah Singh had been quarrelling with the Pucca Senna over everything
and anything that could be found to quarrel about, and at length the
Pucca Senna got the Maharajah to forbid Zillah Singh to sit in the
durbar, at the same time depriving him of some small offices of state
which he usually performed.
The young prince lost no time in consulting with his powerful brother
and ally, the Senaputti. The result was that one night, about midnight,
when the Maharajah had retired and the rest of the palace was wrapped
in slumber, the young prince collected a handful of followers, and with
his brother Angao Senna climbed the wall leading to the Maharajah’s
apartments, and began firing off rifles into the windows. The Maharajah
had never had much reputation for courage, and on this occasion, instead
of rousing his men to action and beating off the intruders, he rushed
away for safety out at the back of the palace, and round to the Residency.
Meanwhile, the first note of alarm was brought to my husband by the
bearer, who woke him up at two in the morning with the report that a
fight was taking place in the palace, which report was fully confirmed by
the whiz of bullets over the house; and in a few minutes the Maharajah
and his three brothers arrived in hot haste from the palace, trembling
for their safety. Some Sepoys came with them, and a great many followers
armed with swords and any sort of weapon they had managed to snatch up in
the general melée.
My husband went out as he was, to receive the Maharajah, and got him to
go into the durbar room and lie down, as he was in such a terrible state
of alarm. But he refused any comfort, though he was told that he need
have no fear, as even then the Ghoorkas were marching in from Langthabal,
and as many as were needed could be got down from Kohima in four or five
days to retake the palace which the rebel princes had got possession of.
But all to no purpose.
Meanwhile my husband went away to dress, and in a very short time the
detachment of the 44th had arrived from the cantonments to garrison the
Residency in case of attack. But the fight was a very feeble one, owing
to the immediate retreat of the Maharajah and his party, and after the
first few shots all was quiet. My husband brought every argument to
bear upon the Rajah to induce him to brave the matter out, and allow
some efforts to be made to regain his throne; but he would not listen
to any reason, and after some hours spent in fear and terror as to what
the next move might be, he signified his intention to my husband of
making a formal abdication of his throne for the purpose of devoting the
remaining years of his life to performing a pilgrimage to the sacred city
of Brinhaband, on the Ganges. He was in the Residency from two o’clock
in the morning of one day to the evening of the day following, as my
husband was anxious to get him to reconsider his hasty resolve to abandon
his throne; but fear of the Senaputti overcame all other sensations:
he persisted in putting his intentions in writing; the letter was sent
informing his rebel brothers of his decision, and in the evening he left
the place with a strong escort of Ghoorkas to see him safely down to
Cachar.
During the hours that he spent at the Residency, an incident occurred
which he (the then Maharajah) has since tried to bring up before the
public as an accusation against my husband; but the real facts of the
case were as follows: I have mentioned that on leaving the palace that
night the Maharajah was escorted by a number of Manipuri Sepoys, all
armed with rifles, besides the rag-tag and bob-tail who carried swords,
and daôs, and such weapons. To avoid confusion and any unnecessary
cause for alarm, the officer in charge of our escort, and my husband,
considered it wiser to deprive the Manipuri Sepoys of their rifles for
the time being. They were therefore all collected and stowed away in a
corner of the veranda, and it was intended that they should, of course,
be eventually returned to their several owners; or if further hostilities
were commenced by the occupants of the palace, making it necessary to
defend the Residency, each Manipuri should receive back his rifle at
once, and be considered as part of our own force. But as the firing had
ceased entirely in the palace, it would have been unwise to leave the
Manipuri Sepoys in possession of their rifles, for they were under no
sort of control, and were ready to fire without any provocation at all,
a proceeding which would probably have been attended with disastrous
results, as the Senaputti would not have hesitated to return the fire
from his strong position in the palace, and things would have assumed
a serious attitude. The Maharajah was consulted, and agreed to the
proposition, and his men were disarmed for the nonce. This has since been
turned into a very different tale by the exiled monarch to serve his
own ends, and he has accused my husband of disarming his troops without
his consent, thus disabling them from making any attempt to regain the
position he had forfeited himself through abject cowardice.
At length, after nearly thirty-six hours in the Residency, during
which the Maharajah would eat nothing, he made a formal abdication in
writing of his throne in favour of his next brother, the Jubraj; and my
husband, finding every argument of no avail, began to make the necessary
arrangements for his highness’s departure, which took place in the
evening of the second day. Some of the ministers came to the Residency to
bid him farewell, and seemed sorry that he was going; and there were some
very affecting partings.
No regret seems to have been felt, however, on the Pucca Senna’s
departure, as he and his two younger brothers accompanied the Maharajah
into his voluntary exile. The Pucca Senna had never been a favourite.
He was very bad-tempered and jealous, and ready to find fault with
everything, and make mischief all round. People liked the Maharajah
himself, but his favourite brother was cordially disliked; and
afterwards, when we were out in the district in the winter, we used to
hear the opinion of the country people, and it was always that they
considered it a pity the Maharajah had gone, but they did not want the
Pucca Senna back.
My husband bade them farewell on the banks of the river separating
the Cachar road from the Residency, and saw them safely on their way,
escorted by our Ghoorkas, and then returned to begin a new régime, which
was destined to last but a few months, and end so unhappily.
Meanwhile, during the attack on the palace, and victory of the rebel
princes, the Jubraj had betaken himself to a place seventeen miles
from Manipur, called Bishenpur, there to remain a neutral observer of
the contest for the Ghuddi.[12] Had the Maharajah held his own, and
driven the rebels out of the place as he should have done, the Jubraj
would still have been on the right side by saying that he was away, and
consequently did not know what was taking place in the city. As it was,
he returned to Manipur as soon as matters had settled themselves in
favour of the Senaputti and his adherent brothers, and accepted with calm
equanimity the government of the state, and the title of regent.
There has been some confusion over the different titles given to the
various members of the royal family at Manipur; and, to avoid any further
mistakes as to the identity of each, I cannot do better than end this
chapter with a tree showing the several princes and their denominations
both before and after the flight of the Maharajah, known as Soor Chandra
Singh—thus:
1.
2. Soor Chandra Singh, 7.
Jubraj, Maharajah. Pucca Senna,
Heir-Apparent. Commander of the
horse.
5.
3. Angao Senna,
Senaputti, Officer in charge of 8.
Commander-in-Chief. Tamum Road. Zillah Singh,
A.D.C. to the
4. 6. Maharajah.
Samoo Hengeba, Dooloroi Hengeba,
Chief officer in charge Officer in charge
of the elephants. of doolies.
When the Maharajah went away, he took with him, as I have said before,
the three princes known as Pucca Senna, Samoo Hengeba, and Dooloroi
Hengeba, leaving behind him the remaining four, who took upon themselves
new titles as follows:
The Jubraj became Regent.
The Senaputti became Jubraj.
Prince Angao ” Senaputti.
Zillah Singh ” Samoo Hengeba.
Therefore in future I shall use these titles in writing of the new
Government to avoid confusion.