CAUSES OF THE MUTINY AND POLICY OF LORD CANNING

The fall of Delhi in September, the relief of Lucknow in November, and the severe conflicts round Cawnpore, had shattered, as it were, the main force of the Mutiny; and although during 1858 active military measures were carried out in various parts of the country, still in reality the great crisis was past. The absence on the part of the natives of any men of military genius to lead them, the want of mutual confidence amongst their widely dispersed forces, and their tendency to marauding expeditions rather than to combined operations, all led to their final defeat in detail. On the other hand, the vigour of our movements, and the large reserves of men, arms, and munitions brought from England, at length restored our shaken power, and enabled us gradually, but firmly, to re-establish our authority throughout the numerous provinces under our rule.

Owing to the wide distribution of the large force of artillery which had arrived from home, it was considered necessary, for administrative purposes, that General Dupuis and his staff should return to the seat of Government at Calcutta; and therefore, after the battles at Cawnpore in November and December, I took no further active part in operations in the field. Residence in India, however, was full of interest at that time, when the causes of the revolution, together with the military changes which ensued, were matters of constant discussion and consideration. The idea that the serving out of greased cartridges to the native soldiery was a dominant factor in the crisis is of course a mere exaggeration of a minor ultimate detail. It may possibly have been the final exciting cause, in the same way that a lucifer match suddenly lighted in a powder magazine may lead to a great explosion; but the causes which conduced to the revolution had been accumulating long before 1857, and were partly political, partly military; and it will be interesting to quote briefly the opinions of various statesmen and high authorities who took part in and studied the history of our conquests, and who traced the results caused by our gradual absorption of the kingdoms, principalities, and provinces into which, until our advent, the vast peninsula of India was divided.

Sir John Malcolm, in his 'Political History of India,' in 1826, wrote: 'The great empire which England has established in the East will be the theme of wonder to succeeding ages. That a small island in the Atlantic should have conquered and held the vast continent of India as a subject province, is in itself a fact which can never be stated without exciting astonishment. But that astonishment will be increased when it is added that this great conquest was made, not by the collective force of the nation, but by a company of merchants, who, originally vested with a charter of exclusive commerce and with the privilege and right to protect their property by arms, in a few years actually found themselves called upon to act in the character of sovereigns over extended dominions before they had ceased to be the mercantile directors of petty factories.'[49] Sir John goes on to show that our rapid progress was due in a great measure to two leading causes: one, that coming originally as unpretending traders, we disarmed suspicion, and were, indeed, welcomed by the natives; the other, that the gradual rise of our power was coincident with the decline of the Mogul empire.

General Sir Thomas Munro—an officer who entered the Madras service of the East India Company as a cadet in 1780, and who by his genius and statesmanlike qualities rose to be Governor of that Presidency—writing in 1817 to the Governor General on the effects of our policy, said: 'The strength of the British Government enables it to put down every rebellion, to repel foreign invasion, and to give to its subjects a degree of protection which those of no native power enjoy. Its laws and institutions also afford them a security from domestic oppression unknown in those States; but these advantages are dearly bought. They are purchased by the sacrifice of independence of national character, and of whatever renders a people respectable. The natives of the British provinces may without fear pursue their different occupations as traders, meerassidars, or husbandmen, and enjoy the fruits of their labours in tranquillity; but none of them can aspire to anything beyond this mere animal state of thriving in peace, none of them can look forward to any share in the legislation, or civil or military government of their country.'[50] ... 'It is from men who either hold, or are eligible to hold, public office that natives take their character; where no such men exist, there can be no energy in any other class of the community. The effect of this state of things is observable in all the British provinces, whose inhabitants are certainly the most abject race in India. No elevation of character can be expected among men who, in the military line, cannot attain to any rank above that of subadar, where they are as much below an ensign as an ensign is below the Commander-in-Chief, and who in the civil line can hope for nothing beyond some petty judicial or revenue office, in which they may, by corrupt means, make up for their slender salary. The consequence, therefore, of the conquest of India by the British arms would be, in place of raising, to debase the whole people. There is, perhaps, no example of any conquest in which the natives have been so completely excluded from all share of the government of their country as in British India.'

Again in 1818, in a letter to Lord Hastings, he says: 'Our Government will always be respected from the influence of our military power, but it will never be popular while it offers no employment to the natives that can stimulate the ambition of the better class of them. Foreign conquerors have treated the natives with violence and often with great cruelty, but none has treated them with so much scorn as we; none has stigmatised the whole people as unworthy of trust, as incapable of honesty, and as fit to be employed only when we cannot do without them. It seems to be not only ungenerous, but impolitic, to debase the character of a people fallen under our dominion.' Again in 1824: 'With what grace can we talk of our paternal government if we exclude them from every important office, and say, as we did till very lately, that in a country containing 150,000,000 of inhabitants no man but a European shall be trusted with so much authority as to order the punishment of a single stroke of a rattan? Such an interdiction is to pass a sentence of degradation on a whole people for which no benefit can ever compensate. There is no instance in the world of so humiliating a sentence having ever been passed upon any nation....' 'The advocates of improvement do not seem to have perceived the great springs on which it depends; they propose to place no confidence in the natives, to give them no authority, and to exclude them from office as much as possible; but they are ardent in their zeal for enlightening them by the general diffusion of knowledge. No conceit more wild and absurd than this was ever engendered in the darkest ages, for what is in every age and every country the great stimulus to the pursuit of knowledge, but the prospect of fame, or wealth, or power?' ... 'In proportion as we exclude them, we lose our hold upon them; and were the exclusion entire we should have their hatred in place of their attachment, their feeling would be communicated to the whole population and to the native troops, and would excite a spirit of discontent too powerful for us to subdue or resist....' 'It would' (he says) 'certainly be more desirable that we should be expelled from the country altogether than that the result of our system of government should be made a debasement of a whole people.' The above are wise and weighty words, and it would be well perhaps, even in these days, if more heed were taken of these outspoken opinions of Sir Thomas Munro.

There is, however, another and more recent authority, greater perhaps than any; one who, year after year, and not long before the Mutiny, urged that we should give opportunities to the natives, and enable them to rise to power, civil and military; and who predicted that unless this were done our system must collapse, either in a mutiny or in general despair. That authority is Sir Henry Lawrence, who fell at his post in the Residency of Lucknow, killed by the mutineers in the very crisis which he had, as it were, foretold. Writing in 1855[51] he pointed out that the natives had no outlet for their talents and ambition as of old, and said: 'These outlets for restlessness and ability are gone; others are closing. It behoves us therefore now, more than ever, to give legitimate rewards, and as far as practicable employment, to the energetic few, to that leaven that is in every lump—the leaven that may secure our empire, or may disturb, nay even destroy, it.' Again, he says: 'Legitimate outlets for military energy and ability in all ranks and even among all classes must be given. The minds of subadars and resseldars, sepoys and sowars, can no more with safety be for ever cramped, trammelled, and restricted as at present than can a twenty-foot embankment restrain the Atlantic. It is simply a question of time. The question is only whether justice is to be gracefully conceded or violently seized. Ten or twenty years must settle the point.'

Leaving for the moment the political results of our conquests in India, it will be well now to consider its military aspects; to trace the formation and services of our native armies, and to watch the signs of their gradual decline both in efficiency and loyalty; and I will again give short quotations from the writings of recognised authorities as conveying clear outlines of this interesting and important subject.

Sir John Malcolm, writing of our early levies, said: 'A jacket of English broadcloth made up in the shape of his own dress, the knowledge of his manual exercise and a few military evolutions, constituted the original Sepoy.' He goes on to tell us that the only English officers were a captain and adjutant per battalion; that the native officers were treated with great kindness and consideration, were often in high command, and that many of the oldest regiments were known by the names of their former native commandants. After dwelling on the efficiency of our original native corps, he points out that their constitution was gradually changed by the increase of European officers, involving alterations of dress, more rigid rules, and with so-called improvements in discipline, until at length in 1796 they were organised like the king's regiments, with the full complement of officers, and with the expectation of greatly increased efficiency—an expectation which was never fulfilled. He wrote in 1826: 'In the native army, as it is at present constituted, no native can rise to the enjoyment of any military command.' Again, he says, the danger lies in 'confiding too exclusively in our European troops and altogether undervaluing and neglecting our native army. From the day of that fatal error we may date the downfall of our Eastern empire.'

Sir John Kaye, in his history of the Mutiny, says[52]: 'Our first Sepoy levies were raised in the Southern peninsula, where the English and French powers were contending for the dominant influence in that part of the country. They were few in number, and at the outset commonly held in reserve to support our English fighting men. But little by little they proved that they were worthy to be entrusted with higher duties; and once trusted they went boldly to the front. Under native commandants, for the most part Mohammedans or high caste Rajpoot Hindoos, but disciplined and directed by the English captains, their pride was flattered and their energies stimulated by the victories they gained. All the power and all the responsibility, all the honours and rewards, were not then monopolised by the English captains. Large bodies of troops were sometimes despatched on hazardous enterprises, under the independent command of a native leader; and it was not thought an offence to a European soldier to send him to fight under a black commandant. That black commandant was then a great man in spite of his colour. He rode on horseback at the head of his men, and a mounted staff officer, a native adjutant, carried his commands to the subadars of the respective companies. And a brave man or a skilful leader was honoured for his bravery or his skill as much under the folds of a turban as under a round hat.' Again he writes: 'The founders of the native army had conceived the idea of a force recruited from among the people of the country, and commanded for the most part by men of their own race but of a higher social position.... But it was the inevitable tendency of our increasing power in India to oust the native functionary from his seat, or to lift him from his saddle, that the white man might fix himself there, with all the remarkable tenacity of his race.... So it happened in due course that the native officers who had exercised real authority in their battalions, who had enjoyed opportunities of personal distinction, who had felt an honourable pride in their position, were pushed aside by an incursion of English gentlemen who took all the substantive power into their hands. As the degradation of the native officer was thus accomplished, the whole character of the Sepoy army was changed. It ceased to be a profession in which men of high position accustomed to command might satisfy the aspirations and expend the energies of their lives.... Thenceforth, therefore, we dug out the materials for our army from the lower strata of society.' Captain Macan, an officer who had long experience and knew the Sepoys well, gave evidence before a Parliamentary Committee in 1832, and declared that 'in all the higher qualifications of soldiers, in devotedness to the service, cheerfulness under privation, confidence and attachment to their officers, and unhesitating bravery in the field, the native soldier is allowed by all the best informed officers of the service, and by those who have most experience, to have infinitely deteriorated.'

The late Rev. Mr. Gleig, in a remarkable article in the 'Edinburgh Review' in 1853, wrote: 'The original native army consisted chiefly of infantry, who, though drilled after European fashion, worked both in peace and war under chiefs connected with the men by ties of consanguinity and friendship.' He goes on to point out that the English element gradually increased until 1784, when a European subaltern was allotted to command each company, and he says: 'Though the subalterns thus disposed of were carefully selected, and the feelings of the subadars spared as much as possible, the native gentleman could no longer disguise from himself or from his men that his shadow was growing less. He supported himself, however, tolerably well till the tide which had begun to set in against him acquired greater force. In 1790, and again in 1796, the European element became still stronger, and then, and not till then, the spirit of the native sank within him. The effect produced by these changes upon the native officers, and ultimately upon the service at large, has been deplorable.' Mr. Gleig's article—written, be it borne in mind, in 1853, shortly before the Mutiny—concludes as follows: 'We have won an enormous empire with the sword, which is growing continually larger. We have established a system of civil administration there which protects the peasant and disgusts all the classes above him.... With a large body of discontented gentry everywhere, and whole clusters of native princes and chiefs interspersed through our dominions, it is idle to say that the continuance of our sovereignty depends from one day to another on anything except the army. Now the army is admitted by all competent judges to be very far in many respects from what it ought to be.'

The extracts which I have quoted of the opinions of various authorities all appear to point in the same direction, and to prove that both in a political and a military sense the various races under our rule in India were gradually becoming degraded and demoralised, and that these results were observed years before the crisis came, and when our power was, for the time, subverted by the general Mutiny of 1857. Our intentions throughout were doubtless good. We introduced sound laws for the people, though not perhaps always in accordance with their customs and prejudices. We also gave them security of life and property, such as they had not enjoyed for centuries; and to some extent we promoted education and commerce and more general prosperity. These benefits are by no means to be ignored. But, on the other hand, in our advance across the great continent we had dethroned kings, upset hereditary princes, and had removed from positions of authority not only men of high rank, great possessions, and ancient lineage, but also men of vast influence, religious and other, and often of great ability and courage. These all found themselves pushed aside and superseded; whilst the various races of people, Hindoo and Mohammedan, not only perceived that their ancient leaders were gone, but that their new governors were aliens in race, religion, language, and customs. All these considerations cannot be carelessly disregarded. The situation is undoubtedly difficult. There is, indeed, one solution, and one only, which must ever be kept steadily in view—namely, that men such as I have indicated must gradually be admitted to positions of responsibility and power, both civil and military; that the people of all ranks, classes, and religions may feel that a career is open to them, and that they are to be allowed to participate in the government of their own country. I do not urge that the time has by any means arrived when the natives should be admitted to the public service by competitive examinations. It is not a system adapted to the circumstances. That, however, is comparatively a minor detail; but there are many other and better modes by which they can and ought to be selected for service under the Government.

In the ultimate reorganisation of the native armies after the Mutiny, the number of English officers to each regiment was restricted to six, so that in some degree the influence of native officers was recognised; but the restriction did not amount to much, and the apparently inevitable tendency is to an augmentation of the English element, the present number being eight. It is also to be observed that there is no instance of a native regiment commanded and led entirely by officers of their own race and faith, so that no opening exists for the many brave and loyal chiefs, men of ability and influence, to serve in the army. Whether under such circumstances we can hope to maintain the military virtues of our Indian troops is a grave question on which opinions differ. Judging by the history of the past, by the views of the soldiers and statesmen which I have quoted, and by the culminating experience of the Mutiny, it seems to me that our policy is rather timid and retrograde, and that we can only govern successfully by gradually entrusting power to the natural leaders of the people.

There is yet another consideration, which relates specially to India of the present day. Education and enlightenment are progressing all over the country, not only by means of schools and colleges, but also by the establishment of railways, roads, and river communications, so that the people now move about freely and exchange ideas to a degree formerly unknown. Literature and the press, the telegraph and the post office, are also exercising increasing influence; and these various causes are somewhat rapidly undermining many ancient prejudices and superstitions. All these are, doubtless, beneficial influences in themselves, and are likely to produce great results, but they require watching, as they inevitably will tend to increase the legitimate desire of the people for more self-government. We cannot stand still.

I have heard it said sometimes that such principles as I advocate would, if carried out, cause to us the loss of the Empire of India; and my reply is, that if such principles are not carried out, we shall not only lose India, but shall deserve to do so. Others talk of the people of India as being composed of inferior races. I am not aware that God has created any races of men who are inferior; but at all events in India, we know that centuries ago they were civilised and distinguished in arts and sciences, in government, and in war—long, indeed, before we had become so. We hear a great deal nowadays of the depreciation of the rupee; but in our government of India, unless we act on the principles which I have endeavoured to illustrate, by quotations from the writings of statesmen of the highest authority and experience of India, we may find in the days to come that we have a far more dangerous result to face, and that is the depreciation in the character of the millions under our rule. Sir Henry Lawrence wrote: 'We cannot expect to hold India for ever. Let us so conduct ourselves in our civil and military relations, as, when the connection ceases, it may do so not with convulsions, but with mutual esteem and affection; and that England may then have in India a noble ally, enlightened, and brought into the scale of nations under her guidance and fostering care.'

Finally, before leaving this part of the subject I will quote extracts from the noble proclamation issued by the Queen in 1858, on the termination of the Mutiny, and which should ever be considered as the Magna Charta of the people of India: 'We declare it to be our Royal will and pleasure, that none be in any wise favoured, none molested or disquieted, by reason of their religious faith or observances, but that all shall enjoy the equal and impartial protection of the law.... And it is further our will that, so far as may be, our subjects of whatever race or creed be freely and impartially admitted to offices in our service, the duties of which they may be qualified by their education, ability, and integrity duly to discharge.' It is often said that India has been won by the sword, and must be governed by the sword. The first statement is in a great measure true; but to the second, as laying down a principle of government, I demur. No nation can be permanently or successfully governed by the sword.

As the crisis of the Mutiny gradually passed away, and as the people of the various provinces, though still violently agitated, began to realise that the British authority was being firmly re-established, it became evident to the Viceroy that the time had arrived when the summary powers which had been exercised, and the severe punishments which had been inflicted, all over the country, must be modified, and that a policy of conciliation should gradually replace that of stern repression. These views of Lord Canning were, however, by no means in accord with the general sentiments of the European population, and of the Press of Calcutta at the time, and his policy was strongly condemned. This feeling on their part is perhaps not altogether surprising. The terrible scenes which had been enacted in so many parts of the country on the outbreak of the Mutiny—the cruel murders, and the atrocious conduct of the natives, not only to men, but to innocent and defenceless English women and children—all these sad events had naturally roused feelings of intense anger; and the idea of conciliation was repugnant to the minds of the great majority. So much was this the case, that even at the end of 1857 the Europeans of Calcutta and Bengal sent home a petition to the Queen, urging that, owing to the weakness of the Government and in disapproval of the views of the Viceroy, he should be recalled. Lord Canning, however, fully convinced that a policy of vengeance was not only wrong in principle, but impossible, was by no means persuaded or moved from his purpose. Writing to the Queen in September 1858,[53] he said: 'There is a rabid and indiscriminate vindictiveness abroad, even among those who ought to set a better example.' Again, to Lord Granville he wrote: 'As long as I have breath in my body, I will pursue no other policy than that I have been following.... I will not govern in anger.... Whilst we are prepared, as the first duty of all, to strike down resistance without mercy wherever it shows itself, we acknowledge that, resistance over, deliberate justice and calm patient reason are to resume their sway; that we are not going, either in anger or from indolence, to punish wholesale, whether by wholesale hangings and burnings, or by the less violent, but not one bit less offensive, course of refusing trust and countenance and favour to a man because he is of a class or a creed.'

The violent opponents of the Viceroy at the time were in the habit of calling him 'Clemency Canning' as a term of reproach. They did not seem to be aware that, under the circumstances, it was the highest honour they could pay him. In my opinion, Lord Canning proved himself to be a wise and courageous Viceroy, and in a period of great difficulty and danger rose superior to the violence of many of those by whom he was surrounded.

When the Mutiny was at an end a thanksgiving service was held in the cathedral at Calcutta, and a special collection made for some charitable purpose to commemorate its termination. There was at that time, and probably is now, a peculiar system of collecting subscriptions at the church services there. It was not the custom to carry money in your pocket. I asked the reason, and was told that the climate was too hot. The consequence was that when a collection was made, the persons who carried round the plates also brought packets of small pieces of paper and bundles of pencils, and each person had to write down and sign the amount of their gift. It was a tedious, but possibly an advantageous, process from a charitable point of view. The following day the collectors went round and called for the amount subscribed. On the occasion in question Lord Canning's secretary informed me that when the collector presented his paper at Government House, the sum inscribed was so large that, imagining there was an error, he took it to the Viceroy, who, however, merely remarked that the occasion was a memorable one, and the amount was paid accordingly. It was for 10,000 rupees (1,000l.). I doubt whether many instances can be given of such a sum having been put into the plate at a church collection.

During my residence at Calcutta I became acquainted with an English official who appeared to possess an extraordinary amount of intuitive knowledge. Whatever the subject discussed, he was always at home, and could lay down the law, and did so. It is not, perhaps, agreeable to find yourself always in a position of ignorance and inferiority. Still, on the whole, society, it may be presumed, benefits. I inquired of an old Indian officer what position this exceptional person held. 'Oh!' he replied, 'that's what in India is called a "sub-janta"—a man who knows everything better than anyone else—be careful not to contradict him.' However, I found that you must have been thirty years in the country and speak all the languages before becoming qualified for the position, so that, fortunately, there are very few sub-jantas to be found.

I occasionally received invitations from natives of rank at Calcutta to be present at family festivities, and the following is a copy of one of them: 'Wedding Party. Cowar Kallykissen Bahadoor presents his respectful compliments to Colonel Adye and requests the favour of his company to a dinner at 7.30 P.M., and a nautch and fireworks at 8.30 P.M., in honour of his daughter's marriage, on Monday, February 22, at Rajah Badinath Bahadoor's garden house at Cossipore.'

On one occasion I paid a visit to the celebrated Chinese Commissioner Yeh, who was a state prisoner at Calcutta, and lived in a large house in the environs. He was dressed in loose white Chinese clothes, with wooden shoes, and was very polite but extremely cautious. We conversed by means of an interpreter. Nothing would induce Yeh to leave his house, although a carriage and horses were kept for him. My efforts to interest him in various subjects entirely failed. I asked if he liked the Indian climate, and he replied that he had not turned his thoughts in that direction. I described the bazaars and shops, and recommended him to go out in his carriage and visit them; but he only said he had heard about them, and would send his secretary to make a report. He told me he was much occupied, and on my asking what he did, he replied that he liked to 'sit down.' He was offered books to be translated to him, but remarked that the contents of all the best ones were already in his stomach, so that he did not require them. He died soon afterwards, presumably of indigestion.

In the early part of 1859 another serious and untoward event occurred, in the discontent of the men of the local European forces at many of the large stations all over the country. Hitherto, in each presidency, the artillery and three regiments of infantry consisted of men recruited at home, but who served continuously in India—in fact, a local European army distinct from the Queen's troops. In the years gone by, and during the Mutiny, they had performed great services, and were deservedly held in high esteem. When, however, in 1858 the rule of the old East India Company came to an end, the great majority of these men considered that, as the Queen had assumed direct authority over the local armies, they were entitled either to their discharge, or, at all events, to a bounty on the transfer of their services to the Crown. Their claims were referred to England for consideration, but were ultimately refused by the Home Government; and, as a consequence, serious disaffection, combined in some cases with violence and a refusal to perform their duties, ensued. It may perhaps be conceded that the curt refusal of their claim was not altogether judicious, but in reality the causes of discontent lay deeper and had been accumulating for some time. The Commander-in-Chief, who was ill at Simla, was much impressed with this unfortunate state of affairs, and was in frequent communication with Lord Canning at Calcutta. Writing in May 1859, he said:[54] 'I am irresistibly led to the conclusion that henceforth it will be dangerous to the State to maintain a European local army.... We cannot afford to attend to any other consideration than those of discipline and loyalty, which may be constantly renovated by the periodical return to England of all the regiments in every branch of the service.' The Viceroy was much pressed by some authorities at the time to grant the bounty, notwithstanding the refusal of the Home Government; but to have done so and to have given way to violence would have been a virtual abnegation of authority, and would not in reality have removed the disaffection. In this dilemma, Lord Canning at length gave a free discharge and passage home to all who wished it, and about 10,000 men then left for England. The cost is said to have been a million sterling. Many of these men, after a short holiday at home, re-enlisted in various Queen's regiments and returned to India. The general result, however, was that ere long the local European troops ceased to exist as a separate force, and became merged in the army of the Empire.