judgment. It is possible that, having had little opportunity of
personally observing any part of the population of India, except the
Bengalese, he was not fully aware of the difference between their
character and that of the tribes which inhabit the upper provinces. He
was now in a land far more favorable to the vigor of the human frame
than the Delta of the Ganges; in a land fruitful of soldiers, who have
been found worthy to follow English battalions to the charge and into
the breach. The Rajah was popular among his subjects. His administration
had been mild; and the prosperity of the district which he governed
presented a striking contrast to the depressed state of Bahar under our
rule, and a still more striking contrast to the misery of the provinces
which were cursed by the tyranny of the Nabob Vizier. The national and
religious prejudices with which the English were regarded throughout
India were peculiarly intense in the metropolis of the Brahminical
superstition. It can therefore scarcely be doubted that the
Governor-General before he outraged the dignity of Cheyte Sing by an
arrest, ought to have assembled a force capable of bearing down all
opposition. This had not been done. The handful of sepoys who attended
Hastings would probably have been sufficient to overawe Moorshedabad, or
the Black Town of Calcutta. But they were unequal to a conflict with the
hardy rabble of Benares. The streets surrounding the palace were filled
by an immense multitude, of whom a large proportion, as is usual in
Upper India, wore arms. The tumult became a fight, and the fight a
massacre. The English officers defended themselves with desperate
courage against overwhelming numbers, and fell, as became them, sword in
hand. The sepoys were butchered. The gates were forced. The captive
prince, neglected by his jailers during the confusion, discovered an
outlet which opened on the precipitous bank of the Ganges, let himself
down to the water by a string made of the turbans of his attendants,
found a boat, and escaped to the opposite shore.
If Hastings had, by indiscreet violence, brought himself into a
difficult and perilous situation, it is only just to acknowledge that he
extricated himself with even more than his usual ability and presence of
mind. He had only fifty men with him. The building in which he had taken
up his residence was on every side blockaded by the insurgents. But his
fortitude remained unshaken. The Rajah from the other side of the river
sent apologies and liberal offers. They were not even answered. Some
subtle and enterprising men were found who undertook to pass through the
throng of enemies, and to convey the intelligence of the late events to
the English cantonments. It is the fashion of the natives of India to
wear large earrings of gold. When they travel, the rings are laid aside,
lest the precious metal should tempt some gang of robbers; and, in place
of the ring, a quill or a roll of paper is inserted in the orifice to
prevent it from closing. Hastings placed in the ears of his messengers
letters rolled up in the smallest compass. Some of these letters were
addressed to the commanders of the English troops. One was written to
assure his wife of his safety. One was to the envoy whom he had sent to
negotiate with the Mahrattas. Instructions for the negotiation were
needed; and the Governor-General framed them in that situation of
extreme danger with as much composure as if he had been writing in his
palace at Calcutta.
Things, however, were not yet at the worst. An English officer of more
spirit than judgment, eager to distinguish himself, made a premature
attack on the insurgents beyond the river. His troops were entangled in
narrow streets, and assailed by a furious population. He fell, with many
of his men; and the survivors were forced to retire.
This event produced the effect which has never failed to follow every
check, however slight, sustained in India by the English arms. For
hundreds of miles round, the whole country was in commotion. The entire
population of the district of Benares took arms. The fields were
abandoned by the husbandmen, who thronged to defend their prince. The
infection spread to Oude. The oppressed people of that province rose up
against the Nabob Vizier, refused to pay their imposts, and put the
revenue officers to flight. Even Bahar was ripe for revolt. The hopes of
Cheyte Sing began to rise. Instead of imploring mercy in the humble
style of a vassal, he began to talk the language of a conqueror, and
threatened, it was said, to sweep the white usurpers out of the land.
But the English troops were now assembling fast. The officers, and even
the private men, regarded the Governor-General with enthusiastic
attachment, and flew to his aid with an alacrity which, as he boasted,
had never been shown on any other occasion. Major Popham, a brave and
skilful soldier, who had highly distinguished himself in the Mahratta
war, and in whom the Governor-General reposed the greatest confidence,
took the command. The tumultuary army of the Rajah was put to rout. His
fastnesses were stormed. In a few hours, above thirty thousand men left
his standard, and returned to their ordinary avocations. The unhappy
prince fled from his country forever. His fair domain was added to the
British dominions. One of his relations indeed was appointed rajah; but
the Rajah of Benares was henceforth to be, like the Nabob of Bengal, a
mere pensioner.
By this revolution, an addition of two hundred thousand pounds a year
was made to the revenues of the Company. But the immediate relief was
not as great as had been expected. The treasure laid up by Cheyte Sing
had been popularly estimated at a million sterling. It turned out to be
about a fourth part of that sum; and, such as it was, it was seized by
the army, and divided as prize-money.
Disappointed in his expectations from Benares, Hastings was more violent
than he would otherwise have been, in his dealings with Oude. Sujah
Dowlah had long been dead. His son and successor, Asaph-ul-Dowlah, was
one of the weakest and most vicious even of Eastern princes. His life
was divided between torpid repose and the most odious forms of
sensuality. In his court there was boundless waste, throughout his
dominions wretchedness and disorder. He had been, under the skilful
management of the English government, gradually sinking from the rank of
an independent prince to that of a vassal of the Company. It was only by
the help of a British brigade that he could be secure from the
aggressions of neighbors who despised his weakness, and from the
vengeance of subjects who detested his tyranny. A brigade was furnished;
and he engaged to defray the charge of paying and maintaining it. From
that time his independence was at an end. Hastings was not a man to lose
the advantage which he had thus gained. The Nabob soon began to complain
of the burden which he had undertaken to bear. His revenues, he said,
were falling off; his servants were unpaid; he could no longer support
the expense of the arrangement which he had sanctioned. Hastings would
not listen to these representations. The Vizier, he said, had invited
the government of Bengal to send him troops, and had promised to pay for
them. The troops had been sent. How long the troops were to remain in
Oude was a matter not settled by the treaty. It remained, therefore, to
be settled between the contracting parties. But the contracting parties
differed. Who then must decide? The stronger.
Hastings also argued that, if the English force was withdrawn, Oude
would certainly become a prey to anarchy, and would probably be overrun
by a Mahratta army. That the finances of Oude were embarrassed he
admitted. But he contended, not without reason, that the embarrassment
was to be attributed to the incapacity and vices of Asaph-ul-Dowlah
himself, and that, if less were spent on the troops, the only effect
would be that more would be squandered on worthless favorites.
Hastings had intended, after settling the affairs of Benares, to visit
Lucknow, and there to confer with Asaph-ul-Dowlah. But the obsequious
courtesy of the Nabob Vizier prevented this visit. With a small train he
hastened to meet the Governor-General. An interview took place in the
fortress which, from the crest of the precipitous rock of Chunar, looks
down on the waters of the Ganges.
At first sight it might appear impossible that the negotiation should
come to an amicable close. Hastings wanted an extraordinary supply of
money. Asaph-ul-Dowlah wanted to obtain a remission of what he already
owed. Such a difference seemed to admit of no compromise. There was,
however, one course satisfactory to both sides, one course by which it
was possible to relieve the finances both of Oude and of Bengal; and
that course was adopted. It was simply this, that the Governor-General
and the Nabob Vizier should join to rob a third party; and the third
party whom they determined to rob was the parent of one of the robbers.
The mother of the late Nabob, and his wife, who was the mother of the
present Nabob, were known as the Begums or Princesses of Oude. They had
possessed great influence over Sujah Dowlah, and had, at his death, been
left in possession of a splendid dotation. The domains of which they
received the rents and administered the government were of wide extent.
The treasure hoarded by the late Nabob, a treasure which was popularly
estimated at near three millions sterling, was in their hands. They
continued to occupy his favorite palace at Fyzabad, the Beautiful
Dwelling; while Asaph-ul-Dowlah held his court in the stately Lucknow,
which he had built for himself on the shores of the Goomti, and had
adorned with noble mosques and colleges.
Asaph-ul-Dowlah had already extorted considerable sums from his mother.
She had at length appealed to the English; and the English had
interfered. A solemn compact had been made, by which she consented to
give her son some pecuniary assistance, and he in his turn promised
never to commit any further invasion of her rights. This compact was
formally guaranteed by the government of Bengal. But times had changed;
money was wanted; and the power which had given the guarantee was not
ashamed to instigate the spoiler to excesses such that even he shrank
from them.
It was necessary to find some pretext for a confiscation inconsistent,
not merely with plighted faith, not merely with the ordinary rules of
humanity and justice, but also with that great law of filial piety
which, even in the wildest tribes of savages, even in those more
degraded communities which wither under the influence of a corrupt half
civilization, retains a certain authority over the human mind. A pretext
was the last thing that Hastings was likely to want. The insurrection at
Benares had produced disturbances in Oude. These disturbances it was
convenient to impute to the Princesses. Evidence for the imputation
there was scarcely any; unless reports wandering from one mouth to
another, and gaining something by every transmission, may be called
evidence. The accused were furnished with no charge; they were permitted
to make no defence; for the Governor-General wisely considered that, if
he tried them, he might not be able to find a ground for plundering
them. It was agreed between him and the Nabob Vizier that the noble
ladies should, by a sweeping act of confiscation, be stripped of their
domains and treasures for the benefit of the Company, and that the sums
thus obtained should be accepted by the government of Bengal in
satisfaction of its claims on the government of Oude.
While Asaph-ul-Dowlah was at Chunar, he was completely subjugated by the
clear and commanding intellect of the English statesman. But when they
had separated, the Vizier began to reflect with uneasiness on the
engagement into which he had entered. His mother and grandmother
protested and implored. His heart, deeply corrupted by absolute power
and licentious pleasures, yet not naturally unfeeling, failed him in
this crisis. Even the English resident at Lucknow, though hitherto
devoted to Hastings, shrank from extreme measures. But the
Governor-General was inexorable. He wrote to the resident in terms of
the greatest severity, and declared that, if the spoliation which had
been agreed upon were not instantly carried into effect, he would
himself go to Lucknow, and do that from which feebler minds recoil with
dismay. The resident, thus menaced, waited on His Highness and insisted
that the treaty of Chunar should be carried into full and immediate
effect. Asaph-ul-Dowlah yielded, making at the same time a solemn
protestation that he yielded to compulsion. The lands were resumed; but
the treasure was not so easily obtained. It was necessary to use
violence. A body of the Company's troops marched to Fyzabad, and forced
the gates of the palace. The Princesses were confined to their own
apartments. But still they refused to submit. Some more stringent mode
of coercion was to be found. A mode was found of which, even at this
distance of time, we cannot speak without shame and sorrow.
There were at Fyzabad two ancient men, belonging to that unhappy class
which a practice, of immemorial antiquity in the East, has excluded from
the pleasures of love and from the hope of posterity. It has always been
held in Asiatic courts that beings thus estranged from sympathy with
their kind are those whom princes may most safely trust. Sujah Dowlah
had been of this opinion. He had given his entire confidence to the two
eunuchs; and after his death they remained at the head of the household
of his widow.
These men were, by the orders of the British government, seized,
imprisoned, ironed, starved almost to death, in order to extort money
from the Princesses. After they had been two months in confinement,
their health gave way. They implored permission to take a little
exercise in the garden of their prison. The officer who was in charge of
them stated that, if they were allowed this indulgence, there was not
the smallest chance of their escaping, and that their irons really added
nothing to the security of the custody in which they were kept. He did
not understand the plan of his superiors. Their object in these
inflictions was not security but torture; and all mitigation was
refused. Yet this was not the worst. It was resolved by an English
government that these two infirm old men should be delivered to the
tormentors. For that purpose they were removed to Lucknow. What horrors
their dungeon there witnessed can only be guessed. But there remains on
the records of Parliament this letter, written by a British resident to
a British soldier:--
"Sir, the Nabob having determined to inflict corporal punishment upon
the prisoners under your guard, this is to desire that his officers,
when they shall come, may have free access to the prisoners, and be
permitted to do with them as they shall see proper."
While these barbarities were perpetrated at Lucknow, the Princesses were
still under duress at Fyzabad. Food was allowed to enter their
apartments only in such scanty quantities that their female attendants
were in danger of perishing with hunger. Month after month this cruelty
continued, till at length, after twelve hundred thousand pounds had been
wrung out of the Princesses, Hastings began to think that he had really
got to the bottom of their coffers, and that no rigor could extort more.
Then at length the wretched men who were detained at Lucknow regained
their liberty. When their irons were knocked off and the doors of their
prison opened, their quivering lips, the tears which ran down their
cheeks, and the thanksgivings which they poured forth to the common
Father of Mussulmans and Christians, melted even the stout hearts of the
English warriors who stood by.
But we must not forget to do justice to Sir Elijah Impey's conduct on
this occasion. It was not indeed easy for him to intrude himself into a
business so entirely alien from all his official duties. But there was
something inexpressibly alluring, we must suppose, in the peculiar
rankness of the infamy which was then to be got at Lucknow. He hurried
thither as fast as relays of palanquin-bearers could carry him. A crowd
of people came before him with affidavits against the Begums, ready
drawn in their hands. Those affidavits he did not read. Some of them,
indeed, he could not read; for they were in the dialects of Northern
India, and no interpreter was employed. He administered the oath to the
deponents, with all possible expedition, and asked not a single
question, not even whether they had perused the statements to which they
swore. This work performed, he got again into his palanquin, and posted
back to Calcutta, to be in time for the opening of term. The cause was
one which, by his own confession, lay altogether out of his
jurisdiction. Under the charter of justice, he had no more right to
inquire into crimes committed by Asiatics in Oude than the Lord
President of the Court of Session of Scotland to hold an assize at
Exeter. He had no right to try the Begums, nor did he pretend to try
them. With what object, then, did he undertake so long a journey?
Evidently in order that he might give, in an irregular manner, that
sanction which in a regular manner he could not give, to the crimes of
those who had recently hired him; and in order that a confused mass of
testimony which he did not sift, which he did not even read, might
acquire an authority not properly belonging to it, from the signature of
the highest judicial functionary in India.
The time was approaching, however, when he was to be stripped of that
robe which has never, since the Revolution, been disgraced so foully as
by him. The state of India had for some time occupied much of the
attention of the British Parliament. Towards the close of the American
war, two committees of the Commons sat on Eastern affairs. In one Edmund
Burke took the lead. The other was under the presidency of the able and
versatile Henry Dundas, then Lord Advocate of Scotland. Great as are the
changes which, during the last sixty years, have taken place in our
Asiatic dominions, the reports which those committees laid on the table
of the House will still be found most interesting and instructive.
There was as yet no connection between the Company and either of the
great parties in the state. The ministers had no motive to defend Indian
abuses. On the contrary, it was for their interest to show, if possible,
that the government and patronage of our Oriental empire might, with
advantage, be transferred to themselves. The votes, therefore, which, in
consequence of the reports made by the two committees, were passed by
the Commons, breathed the spirit of stern and indignant justice. The
severest epithets were applied to several of the measures of Hastings,
especially to the Rohilla war; and it was resolved, on the motion of Mr.
Dundas, that the Company ought to recall a Governor-General who had
brought such calamities on the Indian people, and such dishonor on the
British name. An act was passed for limiting the jurisdiction of the
Supreme Court. The bargain which Hastings had made with the Chief
Justice was condemned in the strongest terms; and an address was
presented to the King, praying that Impey might be ordered home to
answer for his misdeeds.
Impey was recalled by a letter from the Secretary of State. But the
proprietors of India Stock resolutely refused to dismiss Hastings from
their service, and passed a resolution affirming, what was undeniably
true, that they were entrusted by law with the right of naming and
removing their Governor-General, and that they were not bound to obey
the directions of a single branch of the legislature with respect to
such nomination or removal.
Thus supported by his employers, Hastings remained at the head of the
government of Bengal till the spring of 1785. His administration, so
eventful and stormy, closed in almost perfect quiet. In the Council
there was no regular opposition to his measures. Peace was restored to
India. The Mahratta war had ceased. Hyder was no more. A treaty had been
concluded with his son Tippoo; and the Carnatic had been evacuated by
the armies of Mysore. Since the termination of the American war, England
had no European enemy or rival in the Eastern seas.
On a general review of the long administration of Hastings, it is
impossible to deny that, against the great crimes by which it is
blemished, we have to set off great public services. England had passed
through a perilous crisis. She still, indeed, maintained her place in
the foremost rank of European powers; and the manner in which she had
defended herself against fearful odds had inspired surrounding nations
with a high opinion both of her spirit and of her strength.
Nevertheless, in every part of the world, except one, she had been a
loser. Not only had she been compelled to acknowledge the independence
of thirteen colonies peopled by her children, and to conciliate the
Irish by giving up the right of legislating for them; but, in the
Mediterranean, in the Gulf of Mexico, on the coast of Africa, on the
continent of America, she had been compelled to cede the fruits of her
victories in former wars. Spain regained Minorca and Florida; France
regained Senegal, Goree, and several West Indian Islands. The only
quarter of the world in which Britain had lost nothing was the quarter
in which her interests had been committed to the care of Hastings. In
spite of the utmost exertions both of European and Asiatic enemies, the
power of our country in the East had been greatly augmented. Benares was
subjected; the Nabob Vizier reduced to vassalage. That our influence had
been thus extended, nay, that Fort William and Fort St. George had not
been occupied by hostile armies, was owing, if we may trust the general
voice of the English in India, to the skill and resolution of Hastings.
His internal administration, with all its blemishes, gives him a title
to be considered as one of the most remarkable men in our history. He
dissolved the double government. He transferred the direction of affairs
to English hands. Out of a frightful anarchy, he educed at least a rude
and imperfect order. The whole organization by which justice was
dispensed, revenue collected, peace maintained throughout a territory
not inferior in population to the dominions of Louis the Sixteenth or of
the Emperor Joseph, was formed and superintended by him. He boasted that
every public office, without exception, which existed when he left
Bengal was his creation. It is quite true that this system, after all
the improvements suggested by the experience of sixty years, still needs
improvement, and that it was at first far more defective than it now is.
But whoever seriously considers what it is to construct from the
beginning the whole of a machine so vast and complex as a government
will allow that what Hastings effected deserves high admiration. To
compare the most celebrated European ministers to him seems to us as
unjust as it would be to compare the best baker in London with Robinson
Crusoe, who, before he could bake a single loaf, had to make his plough
and his harrow, his fences and his scarecrows, his sickle and his flail,
his mill and his oven.
The just fame of Hastings rises still higher when we reflect that he was
not bred a statesman; that he was sent from school to a counting-house;
and that he was employed during the prime of his manhood as a commercial
agent, far from all intellectual society.
Nor must we forget that all, or almost all, to whom, when placed at the
head of affairs, he could apply for assistance were persons who owed as
little as himself, or less than himself, to education. A minister in
Europe finds himself, on the first day on which he commences his
functions, surrounded by experienced public servants, the depositaries
of official traditions. Hastings had no such help. His own reflection,
his own energy, were to supply the place of all Downing Street and
Somerset House. Having had no facilities for learning, he was forced to
teach. He had first to form himself, and then to form his instruments;
and this not in a single department, but in all the departments of the
administration.