Recollections of a Military Life

by Sir John Adye

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.