A boy was brought up in his household who was known as Nana Sahib. He also was a Mahratta Brahman, the son of a dependant of the ex-Peishwa; he was a favourite of the exiled prince and was treated as one of the family. Accordingly, when the ex-Peishwa died in 1853, Nana Sahib boldly asserted that he was an adopted son. The widow of the ex-Peishwa denied the fact, and asserted her own claims to the property. The truth has long ceased to be a matter of any consequence. Nana Sahib and the widow appear to have come to some secret understanding. He was permitted to inherit the castellated palace and grounds at Bithoor, as well as the money savings which amounted to about half a million sterling, and had been invested in government paper. He also provided for the widow in the palace of Bithoor.
Preposterous claims.
Nana Sahib had thus obtained all that he could possibly have claimed had he been adopted according to all the forms of Brahmanical law. But he laid claim to a continuation of the pension of £80,000 a year, which had been granted to the ex-Peishwa at the instance of Sir John Malcolm; and Lord Dalhousie refused to take his pretensions into consideration. Nana Sahib invented lies, which were plausible only to those who were not familiar with the real circumstances. He declared that the ex-Peishwa had surrendered his dominions on the understanding that the pension should be granted to him and to his heirs for ever. But this falsehood was contradicted by history, and no one gave it the slightest credence except the enemies of the East India Company, or the opponents of Lord Dalhousie's policy.
Pertinacity.
Nana Sahib was a genuine Mahratta, and would have persisted in forcing his claims from time to time upon the British government if he had lived for a hundred years. He was polite and smooth-tongued, flattering every European of influence that came in his way, and ever boasting of his loyalty to the British government. He professed to take the utmost pleasure in the society of Europeans, and was noted for his entertainments at Bithoor, to which he invited all the European society at Cawnpore. He affected to live in state like a Hindu Raja; he kept six guns for firing salutes, and entertained a large number of Mahratta troops and followers. But he never forgot his claim to the pension. He constantly harped upon the so-called injustice that deprived him of it; and he employed agents both in India and Great Britain to urge the British government to treat the pension as perpetual and hereditary.
Cunning.
When the Bengal sepoys began to express horror at the greased cartridges, Nana Sahib denounced their folly in supposing that the British government had planned the destruction of their religion. When the news arrived of the outbreak at Meerut, he persuaded the civil officials at Cawnpore to send their wives and other ladies to Bithoor until the storm had blown over. He boasted that he could protect them against any number of sepoys, and arrangements were actually made for securing the ladies at Bithoor in the event of a mutiny. Later on, when the revolt at Delhi had become common talk, the Nana proposed to organise a body of 1,500 Mahrattas to take the sepoys by surprise, and put them all to the sword, should they show the slightest symptom of mutiny.
Anxieties of the Europeans.
By this time the anxiety of the Europeans at Cawnpore was becoming intolerable. The ladies especially suffered severely. On any night a signal might be given, and a mob of armed sepoys might be rushing about like madmen, burning down bungalows and murdering the women and children in their beds. All were yearning for the recapture of Delhi. Indeed, every European in India felt that the plague of sepoy mutiny would never be stayed until Delhi was once again in the hands of the British government.
Expected mutiny, 21st May.