Wanderings in India, and Other Sketches of Life in Hindostan

by John Lang

I ought to mention that this Mahratta chief was a near relation of the royal family of Gwalior, and that he had been banished and pensioned for having been engaged in some intrigues against the Gwalior State.

The Maharajah Hindoo-Rao was a great gourmand, and those who partook of his dinners never forgot them. It was not often that the old chief could be induced to discuss politics, but on the occasion of the 41st Regiment of Infantry having mutinied at Delhi—a mutiny which, by the way, was hushed up—I heard him very energetically exclaim: "Ah! if you go on humouring your native soldiers in this way, they will never be satisfied until they govern the country!"

The late Sir Charles James Napier visited Delhi while I was there. He came, not as ordinary commanders-in-chief usually come, with a large suite and an escort covering a square mile of encamping ground, but attended only by two aides-de-camp and a military secretary. It was on the morning of his Excellency's arrival that the mutiny in the 41st Regiment, to which I have just alluded, occurred. Sir Charles reviewed the regiments then quartered at Delhi, including the 41st, and complimented them en masse! The review over, Hindoo-Rao, who was a great horseman, rode up to the commander-in-chief on his spirited charger, and expressed the happiness it afforded him to see an officer who had so distinguished himself in the military annals of his country. Sir Charles appeared much pleased with the open, frank manner and independent bearing of the old Mahratta chieftain, and accepted, on behalf of himself and his staff, an invitation to dine with him that evening. A large number of gentlemen, European and native, assembled to meet his Excellency; and when Sir Charles returned thanks for the honour that had been paid to him in drinking his health, he made allusion to the pleasure that it afforded him in seeing Christians, Hindoos, and Mussulmen on such good terms, and living together in such amity and concord. What a change since that evening, which to me seems but as yesterday! Several of our party, on that occasion, have become chiefs of the recent rebellion, and were accessory to the massacre of English gentlemen and ladies.

Hindoo-Rao died in eighteen hundred and fifty-four. His funeral was thus described to me by a friend who witnessed it: "They dressed up the old gentleman's corpse in his most magnificent costume, covered his arms with jewelled bracelets of gold, with costly necklaces of pearls and diamonds hanging down to his waist, placed him in a chair of state, sat him bolt upright—just as he used to sit when alive—and thus, attended by his relations, friends, and suite he was carried through Delhi to the banks of the Jumna, where the body was burnt with the usual rites, and the ashes thrown into the river."

Mr. Skinner also is dead. He died in eighteen hundred and fifty-five. When I think of him I am rejoiced that he did not survive to be brutally massacred, as his brothers have been; or to see his house (near the Cashmere Gate) which was always the scene of good-fellowship and good-feeling, turned into a battery by the rebels; or the church, built by his father, burned and destroyed by the people who had for years and years paid, or affected to pay, unqualified respect and devotion to his family.

I made the acquaintance of another personage at Delhi, for whom I had a very great liking and regard. This was Mirza Futteh Allee Shah Bahadoor, the heir apparent to the throne of Delhi. He was a very amiable and intelligent prince, and had an extraordinary thirst for knowledge. Amongst other things that he was curious to learn was the history of steam power, railroads, and the electric telegraph. For hours together he would encourage me—nay, importune me, to talk with him on these matters. Apropos of this prince and his family—while I was at Delhi the festival of the Eed came to pass, and there was an omen which was variously interpreted. The King, in other words the Great Moghul, sacrifices a camel. The King kills (or used to kill) the camel with his own hand, by driving a spear into the breast of the animal. On the occasion to which I now refer, the King, being extremely old and feeble, was assisted by two attendants, and, in attempting to drive the spear, it broke in two pieces. That was the omen. The friends of Mirza Futteh Allee Shah Bahadoor interpreted it as prognosticating the King's death and the speedy succession of the heir apparent to the throne. Others, however, said that it prognosticated the downfall of the King and of his throne for ever. Mirza died about a year ago of an attack of cholera; and it may not be premature perhaps to say that the throne of the Great Moghul will not in future be recognised. There was another curious prophecy connected with the throne of Delhi, and current for many years in the Punjab. It was implicitly believed that the Sikh soldiery would one day or other, and before long, sack Delhi; and, in eighteen hundred and forty-five, when the Sikh army crossed our frontier, Delhi was its destination. This prophecy has to some extent been fulfilled. The Sikh soldiers have tasted of the plunder of Delhi. But who could ever have dreamed that their entry into the city of the Great Moghul would be in company with British soldiers? It is as though, and quite as incredible as if, some one had predicted in eighteen hundred and sixteen that, in eighteen hundred and fifty-five, the Queen of England, a grand-daughter of George III., would be a guest at the Tuileries of an Emperor of the French, and a nephew of Napoleon Bonaparte; and that such Queen would be led upon the arm of such Emperor to visit the tomb of the Prisoner of St. Helena.

After leaving Delhi I crossed over to Meerut, which was then, as it always has been since its formation, the favourite station in the Upper Provinces of India. In eighteen hundred and forty-six and forty-seven there were as many as ten thousand troops quartered at Meerut, including two regiments of British foot, a regiment of dragoons, and three troops of horse (European) artillery. Until lately, it has always been deemed prudent to keep a very large European force at Meerut in order to keep Delhi (only forty miles distant) in check; for it was stipulated in one of our treaties with the family of the Moghuls, that no British infantry or cavalry, or other European troops, should ever be quartered in the Imperial City or its immediate vicinity. When, however, the Punjab was annexed, the European force at Meerut was lessened to meet the exigencies of the times; and of late Meerut has not been, in respect to the number of European troops, the station that it was formerly.

There are no ancient buildings to be seen at Meerut. All is of European structure. The church, the barracks, the court-houses, the treasury, the theatre, the bungalows of the civilians and military officers, as well as those of the merchants and "others," are all of brick and mortar, lath and plaster; and they were for the most part thatched, so that the Sepoys had very little trouble in setting fire to them. The reason why houses are commonly thatched instead of tiled and shingled, is that the thatch keeps the interior of the dwelling so very much cooler.

While at Meerut I was a guest of the editor of the journal which used to issue from that station, and as my stay extended over six weeks, during which period I frequently assisted the editor in his work, I gained some knowledge of the practical working of the press in the Upper Provinces. I am authorized to make any use I please of this knowledge.

In the first place I may mention that the order of Government forbidding civilians or military men corresponding with the press, was, to every intent and purpose, a perfect farce and a dead letter. On the staff of the Meerut paper were several gentlemen belonging to each branch of the service. These gentlemen not only wrote, but some of them wrote for pay—for so much per column; while the correspondence columns were filled with letters from covenanted civilians or commissioned officers, judges, and magistrates, and their subordinates; brigadiers, colonels, majors, captains, and subalterns contributed anonymously, whenever the spirit moved them. Ay! and frequently the members of the staff of the Governor-General and of the Commander-in-Chief would not only send items of news, but comments thereon; and I have reason to know that this practice was continued up to the date of the recent outbreak, and is still continued. By the way, the late Major Thomas was virtually the editor of the Mofussilite at Agra at the time he received his death wound in the field of battle. The Delhi newspaper was also written for by civilians and military men of all grades.