The Campaign of Seringapatam
(1797-1800)
_India, “a country fertile in heroes and statesmen._”
CANNING.
The proverb to the effect that “History repeats itself” is not strictly
true. The further we study the subject, the more we find that like
causes do not necessarily bring about similar effects. The ill success
which attended the expedition to the West Indies, ere it left the
English Channel, has a fitting parallel so far as its practical utility
is concerned in the force placed at General St Leger’s disposal to
attack Manilla, the Philippine Islands then being in the possession of
Spain, with whom Great Britain was now at war. Fortunately it did not
meet with disaster, but neither expedition reached its destination.
Wellesley accepted the offer of Sir John Shore, the Governor-General
of India, to command a brigade, and the troops were embarked. They had
not proceeded farther than Penang before an order was issued for their
recall owing to troubles brewing in India itself.
Shortly after his return to Calcutta the Colonel was placed in command
of the forces in Madras. He also heard that his eldest brother
had been offered the extremely responsible and difficult post of
Governor-General in succession to Sir John Shore. It was now his turn
to feed the flames of Mornington’s ambition. He writes: “I strongly
advise you to come out. I am convinced that you will retain your
health; nay, it is possible that its general state may be improved,
and you will have the fairest opportunity of rendering material
service to the public and of doing yourself credit.” Mornington lacked
self-confidence, and a thousand and one doubts and fears possessed his
mind. The Colonel reminded him that if he refused so advantageous a
position on account of his young family, “you forego both for yourself
and them what will certainly be a material and lasting advantage.”
Mornington accepted, and arrived at Calcutta with his youngest brother,
Henry, as private secretary in the middle of May 1798. He speedily
found an antidote for home-sickness in endeavouring to unravel the
tangled skein of affairs in Mysore, where Tipú Sultan was intriguing
with the French Republic for assistance in attacking the possessions
of the East India Company in Southern India. The pugnacious character
of the son of Hyder Ali was typified by the tiger’s stripes on his
flag. He possessed the fanaticism and barbarity of the Oriental at his
worst, and when opportunity occurred would feed a beast of prey with an
English prisoner.
[Illustration: WELLINGTON’S CAMPAIGN IN INDIA.]
To secure either the friendship or the neutrality of the Nizám,
whose territory abutted that of the bloodthirsty Tipú, now became of
paramount importance. His army was officered by Frenchmen, which was
proof positive that in the event of war it would assist Britain’s
enemy, although the Nizám had a distinct leaning towards the English.
As it happened, the native troops mutinied against their officers,
and, seizing his opportunity, the Nizám dismissed them. They were sent
to England as prisoners, and subsequently allowed to return to their
own country, a most humane consideration, for which Mornington was
largely responsible. The military positions they formerly occupied
were promptly filled by our own officers. A new treaty was made to
preclude the Marhattás from allying themselves with Tipú, and a force
of 6000 British troops was maintained by the Nizám at Hyderabad.
Meanwhile Wellesley had proceeded with his regiment to Madras, and,
owing to the death of the senior officer, was placed in temporary
command of the troops. In communication with Lord Clive, the Governor
of the Presidency, and General Harris, the Commander-in-Chief, he
busied himself with the multitudinous arrangements necessary for
an advance upon Seringapatam, the capital of the Mysore Dominions.
Horses, bullocks, and elephants had to be provided for the purpose of
transport; forts equipped and provisioned; the siege train properly
organized. He drew up a plan of campaign, and bent himself to the task
with exacting energy. Notwithstanding the preparations for war, he
still hoped that a resort to arms would prove unnecessary. Those who
are apt to think that all military men delight in strife for the mere
love of it will do well to remember this fact and judge less harshly,
for Wellington is the typical representative of the British Army. But
he believed in being ready, and hated nothing so much as “muddling
through.”
There was still a possibility, though scarcely a probability, that Tipú
would repent. He had received word that Napoleon, then on his famous
Egyptian expedition, was coming to his aid with an “invincible army.”
So far he had refused a definite statement of policy. Not until it was
abundantly evident that the protracted negotiations of the Sultan of
Mysore with the Government were merely to gain time, was a declaration
of war issued on the 22nd February 1799. According to Wellesley,
General Harris “expressed his approbation of what I had done, and
adopted as his own all the orders and regulations I had made, and then
said that he should mention his approbation publicly, only that he was
afraid others would be displeased and jealous. Now as there is nothing
to be got in the army except credit, and as it is not always that the
best intentions and endeavours to serve the public succeed, it is hard
that when they do succeed they should not receive the approbation which
it is acknowledged by all they deserve. I was much hurt about it at the
time, but I don’t care now, and shall certainly do everything to serve
General Harris, and to support his name and authority.”
Wellesley never feared to speak his mind, as his voluminous dispatches
abundantly testify. In a letter to Mornington he admits that he had
“lectured” the Commander-in-Chief because he allowed the Madras
Military Board too much license in the matter of appointments. On the
other hand, he had “urged publicly to the army (in which I flatter
myself I have some influence) the necessity of supporting him, whether
he be right or wrong.” In his opinion it was “impossible” to hold the
General “too high, if he is to be the head of the army in the field.”
Harris certainly compensated Wellesley to some extent by placing him
in command of thirteen regiments, including the Nizám’s contingent,
with the rank of brigadier. The strength of this force was about 16,000
men, that of the whole army 35,000, excluding 120,000 camp followers,
the bugbear of the old-time commander. The Bombay corps under General
Stuart attacked a portion of the enemy, commanded by the wily Tipú, in
the vicinity of Sedasser, on the 6th March. This success augured well,
for the Sultan was forced to retire.
Harris’s first serious engagement took place near Malavelly on the
27th, Wellesley advancing to the attack and turning Tipú’s right flank.
After an engagement lasting three hours the enemy withdrew, with the
loss of some 2000 men by death or wounds against the British 7 killed
and 53 wounded. Tipú was a skilful soldier, and had not neglected to
throw up a line of entrenchments before Seringapatam, into which city
he now withdrew. To drive in the advanced outposts before definitely
besieging the place was Harris’s first object. This duty was intrusted
to Wellesley and Colonel Shaw respectively, each having charge of a
detachment. It was the task of the former to carry a tope, or thicket,
and a village called Sultanpettah. He failed, for reasons explained in
the following letter:
“On the night of the 5th, we made an attack on the enemy’s outposts,
which, at least on my side, was not quite so successful as could have
been wished. The fact is, that the night was very dark, that the
enemy expected us, and were strongly posted in an almost impenetrable
jungle. We lost an officer, killed, and nine men of the 33rd wounded,
and at last, as I could not find out the post which it was desirable
I should occupy, I was obliged to desist from the attack, the enemy
also having retired from the post. In the morning they re-occupied it,
and we attacked it again at day-light, and carried it with ease and
with little loss. I got a slight touch on the knee, from which I have
felt no inconvenience, and I have come to the determination never to
suffer an attack to be made by night upon an enemy who was prepared
and strongly posted, and whose posts had not been reconnoitred by
daylight.” It should be added that twelve soldiers were taken prisoner
and executed by the brutal method of nails being driven through their
heads, and that Wellesley had previously given it as his opinion that
the projected attack on the thicket would be a mistake. The operation
undertaken by Colonel Shaw was successful.
The siege now proceeded in earnest, but a breach was not made in the
solid walls surrounding Seringapatam for three days. On the 4th May the
place was stormed by General Baird. General Sherbrooke’s right column
was the first to ford the Cauvery River. His men speedily scaled the
ramparts, and engaged that part of the Sultan’s 22,000 troops stationed
in the immediate vicinity. The defenders fought with the fatalistic
energy and determination so characteristic of the natives of India. The
left column followed, but found the way more difficult. Tipú, mounting
the ramparts, fired at the oncoming red-coats with muskets handed to
him by his attendants. It was his last battle; his body was afterwards
discovered in a covered gateway, together with hundreds of others.
Wellesley, with his corps, occupied the trenches as a first reserve.
“About a quarter past one p.m.,” says an eye-witness, “as we were
anxiously peering, telescope in hand, at the ford, and the intermediate
ground between our batteries and the breach, a sharp and sudden
discharge of musquetry and rockets, along the western face of the
fort, announced to us that General Baird and the column of assault
were crossing the ford; and immediately afterwards, we perceived our
soldiers, in rather loose array, rushing towards the breach. The
moment was one of agony; and we continued, with aching eyes, to watch
the result, until, after a short and appalling interval, we saw the
acclivity of the breach covered with a cloud of crimson,--and in a
very few minutes afterwards, observing the files passing rapidly to
the right and left at the summit of the breach, I could not help
exclaiming, ‘Thank God! the business is done.’
“The firing continued in different parts of the place until about two
o’clock, or a little afterwards; when, the whole of the works being
in the possession of our troops, and the St George’s ensign floating
proudly from the flagstaff of the southern cavalier, announced to us
that the triumph was completed.”
On the 5th, Wellesley took over the command from Baird, who had
requested temporary leave of absence, and without delay began to
restore some kind of order among the British troops, whose one object
after victory was plunder, in which matter they showed little delicacy
of feeling. The city was on fire in several places, but the flames
were all extinguished within twenty-four hours, and the inhabitants
were “retiring to their homes fast.” Having stopped, “by hanging,
flogging, etc.,” the insubordination of the troops and the rifling of
the dead by the camp followers who had flocked in, Wellesley proceeded
to bury those who had fallen.
During the four weeks of the siege the British lost 22 officers and
310 men, and no fewer than 45 officers and 1164 men were reported as
wounded and missing.[8] The Commander mentions that jewels of the
greatest value, and bars of gold, were obtained. As the prize agents
assessed the treasure taken at £1,143,216, the wealth of Seringapatam
must have been astounding. Wellesley’s share came to about £4000.[9]
Hundreds of animals were required to carry the rich stuffs, plate,
and richly-bound books from this city of opulence. A little humorous
relief to so much sordidness is afforded by Wellesley’s difficulties
regarding some of the late Sultan’s pets. “There are some tigers here,”
he writes, “which I wish Meer Allum would send for, or else I must give
orders to have them shot, as there is no food for them, and nobody to
attend to them, and they are getting violent.” Tipú’s 650 wives gave
less trouble than the wild beasts. They were removed to a remote region
and set at liberty.
Wellesley’s next appointment was as Commander of the Forces in Mysore.
He proved himself to be particularly well fitted for the post, which
obviously required a man of infinite tact, who could be lenient or
severe as circumstances demanded. It was Wellesley’s testing-time, and
he did not fail either in administration or the rough and tumble of
the “little war” so soon to fall to his lot. He had already served on
a commission appointed to go into the question of the partition of the
conquered Dominions, a small part of which was made over to the Peshwá,
and larger shares to the Nizám and the East India Company respectively.
The dynasty overturned by Tipú’s father was restored. As the new
Rájá of Mysore was only five years of age, he was scarcely able to
appreciate the fact that his territory was so greatly diminished.
We now come to a story worthy of a place in the Arabian Nights. It
concerns an adventurer who, later, assumed the truly regal title of
King of the World. Dhoondia Waugh, to give him the name by which those
who were unfortunate enough to make his acquaintance first knew him,
was the chief of a band of robbers whom Tipú had captured and thrown
into prison. Recognizing in him a brave man, the Sultan remitted the
sentence of death and gave him a military appointment, thus turning his
acknowledged abilities into a less questionable channel, for a thief
must needs be fearless and daring if he is to succeed. For some reason
not altogether clear, Dhoondia Waugh was again imprisoned, and he did
not regain his liberty until the fall of Seringapatam, when he was
liberated, together with a number of other gaol-birds. The old thieving
instinct reasserted itself, and as he encountered no difficulty in
collecting a band of the late Tipú’s cavalry, he speedily resorted to
means and measures which alarmed the inhabitants of every place he
visited. When pressed by the troops sent after them the horde took
refuge in the territory of the Peshwá, the nominal head of the Marhattá
confederacy. There they received anything but a cordial welcome,
although it seems probable that reinforcements were obtained among
the malcontents. However that may be, Dhoondia Waugh duly appeared
near Savanore. Having the safety of the Mysore Dominions very much at
heart, for he had supreme civil and military control, Wellesley started
in pursuit of the freebooter. Several fortresses held by Dhoondia’s
unlawful bands were stormed, his baggage taken, and a number of guns
captured.
An affray which took place near the Malpurda River at the end of
July 1800, not only reduced the chief’s forces, but caused many of
his followers to forsake the cause, although their strength in the
following September was considerably more than that at Wellesley’s
command; in actual figures, some 5000 against 1200. The operation on
the 10th of that month, which proved decisive, was extremely difficult,
for the enemy was strongly posted at a village called Conahgull. The
Colonel charged with such cool daring and so determined a front, that
after having stood firm for some time the enemy made off, closely
pursued for many miles by the British cavalry. A dire and just
retribution was exacted; those who were not killed “were scattered in
small parties over the face of the country.” The King of the World had
fought his last battle. He was found among the slain.
It is frequently asserted that Wellesley held but a low opinion of
the troops which he commanded, and he certainly passed harsh judgment
on those who shared his later campaigns. Not so in this particular
instance, however. In the dispatch detailing “the complete defeat and
dispersion” of the forces of Dhoondia, he expressly remarks on the
“determined valour and discipline” of the soldiers, the patience and
perseverance displayed in “a series of fatiguing services,” and the
excellent organization of the commissariat department.
Wellesley also showed that a kind heart is not necessarily the
attribute of a weak nature. With a humanity entirely worthy so great
a man, he had Dhoondia’s “supposed or adopted son” cared for, and
afterwards placed £400 in the hands of trustees for his future
use.[10] “Had you and your regicide army been out of the way,” writes
Sir Thomas Munro to Wellesley, “Dhoondia would undoubtedly have become
an independent and powerful prince, and the founder of a new dynasty of
cruel and treacherous Sultauns.”
This short campaign likewise furnishes us with one of the secrets of
the success of our national military hero. Just before he set out on
the long chase after the King of the World, he was offered a position
particularly rich in prospects, namely, the military command of an
expedition for the surrender of the Dutch island of Batavia. The sole
condition was that Lord Clive, the Governor of Madras, to whom he was
responsible, could spare him. A man who was moved by purely personal
ambition would have had no hesitation in bringing all his influence to
bear on the Governor in order to secure so good an opening. Wellesley,
however, recognizing that he had already begun preparations for the
running to earth of the bloodthirsty and cruel Dhoondia--an end much
to be desired--asked Clive to accept or decline for him as he thought
best. He neither pleaded for nor against, although he hoped that if
Admiral Rainier were not starting at once he might be able to join him
when the work on hand was finished. “I am determined that nothing shall
induce me to desire to quit this country, until its tranquillity is
ensured. The general want of troops, however, at the present moment,
and the season, may induce the Admiral to be desirous to postpone the
expedition till late in the year. In that case it may be convenient
that I should accompany him....”
The Governor of Madras refused his permission, and there the matter
ended. Months afterwards, when there seemed a probability of operations
in the Marhattá Territory, Wellesley wrote a lengthy Memorandum on
the means of carrying such a campaign to a successful issue. “The
experience,” he notes in his opening remarks, “which has been acquired
in the late contest with Dhoondia Waugh, of the seasons, the nature of
the country, its roads, its produce, and its means of defence, will be
of use in pointing them out.”
Thus it will be seen that the knowledge gained by Wellesley during
the performance of an individual duty was stored up for future use. A
march or a campaign was not simply carried out and then dismissed. It
was a lesson learned and to be remembered. In military matters he was
to a very appreciable extent self-taught. No drill-book in existence
can furnish skill or assure victory, and genius itself is valueless
on the battle-field without a clear perception based on things
ascertained--“the experience which has been acquired” referred to in
the above communication. Napoleon, against whom Wellesley was to fight
in the years to come, early recognized the supreme importance of this
principle. “The adroit man,” he says, “profits by everything, neglects
nothing which can increase his chances.”
The “Sepoy General” was such a man.