The sepoys were now in such a panic of fear lest their precious caste should be defiled, that they began to suspect some attempt to destroy this inheritance (without which life was not worth living) in everything prepared for them by the government. The new cartridge-paper had a glazed, greasy appearance. This was enough! Here was another subtle attempt to make them Christians! In this fashion they argued and persuaded one another like foolish children, though in reality the paper was entirely free from fat.
Many years before this a report had spread throughout Hindustan that the English rulers were collecting the salt (a very precious commodity in the East) into two heaps: over that intended for the use of the Mohammedans the blood of pigs was sprinkled, and over the other the blood of cows. This “salt” panic had occurred many years ago, but now in 1857 an equally incredible story was believed by hundreds of thousands, namely, that the government had caused the bones of bullocks and of pigs to be ground and mixed with the flour served out to the troops. For days following the rumour no flour was used, the sepoys preferring to starve rather than eat what they believed to be defiled food.
But these matters of the greased cartridges and bone-flour were by no means the only cause of the great mutiny: they were simply the pretexts for bringing matters to a head. The sepoys had been treated in widely different ways at various times, being now spoiled and petted, and now dealt with haughtily and occasionally unjustly. When first the native army was raised the men were allowed to dress after their own fashion, but early in the nineteenth century many changes had been initiated, and the soldiers began to be clothed and drilled according to the European model.
They were forbidden to wear the cherished caste-marks on their foreheads; the ear-rings to which they were fondly attached, and which the Moslems regarded as a charm against evil spirits, were no longer permitted; they were deprived of the beards of which they had been so proud, and were forced to shave their chins like the “unclean” Englishmen; and upon their head the national turban was replaced by a stiff round cap. Now, not only are hats and caps the outward and visible signs of Christianity (for Christians are known as topi-wallahs, or hat-wearers), but this uniform cap contained leather made either from the hide of the abominable hog or from that of the sacred cow. Thus the new head-dress was an offence to Moslems and Hindus alike.
A further cause of discontent arose from the decline in the importance of the native officer. In the early years of the British-Indian army the native officer had been a great and important man, but at this period his standing had declined. The English officer of sixteen had authority over the grizzled Rajput captain who had served the Company for thirty years. The native officers were not saluted by British privates, and frequently when they visited the tents of their white brother-officers, the latter had not the courtesy to offer them chairs, regarding them, indeed, as in no way different from the common sepoy. The native officers grumbled to one another in indignant tones over these grievances.
“It is better,” they said, “to serve in the armies of the native states, where elephants and palanquins and sumptuous tents are provided for the officers, than in the army of ‘The Great Lord Company’, in which we are compelled to live with the common sepoy when on the line of march.”
Again, most of the Hindus had enlisted on the understanding that they were to serve in Hindustan only and not across the sea. Now to cross “The Black Water” is likewise a defilement forbidden to Brahmans, and great dissatisfaction had been caused a few years previously because certain regiments had been ordered to Burma; and during this campaign the Brahmans had been compelled to work as labourers in the construction of barracks. The British soldiers had fallen to with a will, as had the low-caste Madras sepoys, but the men from Bengal demanded to know whether Brahmans and Rajputs were mere coolies that they should so defile themselves.
In addition to the above causes of disquietude, the King of Delhi—a quiet old gentleman who dabbled in poetry—had been recently deprived of certain privileges. This monarch was the descendant of the great Mogul emperors, whose sway had been acknowledged by far more kings, princes, and nations than that of any European sovereign.
Yet the heir to this magnificence was now merely the pensioner of a company of merchants; though permitted to dwell in an enormous palace—almost a town in itself—with the empty title of king, he possessed no real power and no authority. This fact rankled in the minds of all Mohammedans. In one important respect, however, the Company had deferred to the king’s wishes. He had begged that none of their troops should be quartered in the imperial city, so that he might at least make pretence to be the real master thereof. The request was granted, and with the exception of a handful of men to guard the great Delhi arsenal, neither sepoys nor British soldiers were stationed in the town, but, instead, had their cantonments on the destined-to-be-famous ridge outside.
Then, again, the great province of Oudh had been recently annexed, and certain privileges had been taken not only from the king thereof, but from the large landholders; and though in the course of time these changes would undoubtedly work for the good of the majority, still they pressed heavily on a certain class; and the poorer people, for whose benefit the changes were made, could not understand, and therefore disliked them. The King of Oudh, like his master the Emperor of Delhi, was a Mohammedan.