The last acts of Tippoo’s life were in fit keeping with a career marked throughout by perfidy and bloodshed. In the confusion of the night of the 5th, when Colonel Wellesley’s attack on Sultaunpet failed from darkness and the intricacy of the betel tope, twelve grenadiers of the 33rd were made prisoners, and brought into Seringapatam. At midnight they were murdered by threes—“the mode of killing them was by twisting their heads, while their bodies were held fast, and thus breaking their necks.”[14] The fact was ascertained beyond doubt, for a peon pointed out the place where these ill-fated soldiers were interred, and they were examined and identified by their own officers. Other English soldiers who had been taken in assaulting outposts during the siege, had also been put to death, “having nails driven through their skulls.”[15]
In alluding to the Sultaun’s death, the regretted biographer of Sir David Baird says, “One cannot but regret, for the honour of human nature, and even for the sake of England, the end of such a man as Tippoo, shot in cold blood by a man endeavouring to rob him. Let us hope the man was a sepoy.” The man was an Irish soldier, who many years afterwards stated the fact in confession, and when in articulo mortis. “Cold blood!” Could blood be cold during the storm of a defended city, and under an Indian sun almost at noon?
The tyrant only met the doom he merited. For his talents we give him credit—his courage obtains our admiration—his munificence we admit—but for the murderer of the brave we feel neither sympathy nor regret.
ASSAYE.
Effect of Tippoo’s death upon the Native Princes.—Dhoondia’s rise and fall.—War between Scindia and Holkar.—Their differences accommodated.—Hostilities commence again.—Operations.—Camp at Assaye.—Battle.—Death of Colonel Maxwell.—Results of the Victory at Assaye.—Honours conferred on General Wellesley.—He returns to England.
The death of Tippoo Saib, and the fall of Seringapatam, were astounding tidings for the native chiefs. Their delusory notions regarding their individual importance were ended—and a striking proof had been given of what little reliance could be placed on Indian mercenaries and places of strength, when England went forth in wrath and sent her armies to the field.
As the fear of Britain became confirmed, so did the hatred of the native princes to every thing connected with her name. A power that had proved herself so formidable was to be dreaded, fixed as she was in the very heart of India: and, as the difficulty increased, so did the desire of freeing themselves from that thrall, which daily appeared to press upon them more heavily.
With political history we have no business, farther than regards the military operations we detail; but, as warfare originates in state policy, the elucidation of the one will occasionally require that brief allusions should be made to the other.
Among the prisoners delivered by the British from their dungeons after the reduction of the capital of Mysore, was a Mahratta trooper, who had commenced his predatory career in the cavalry of Hyder Aly, and, after his death, continued in the service of his son. For some cause he deserted, headed a band of marauders, was enticed back by the false promises of Tippoo, flung into a dungeon, and there made a Mussulman, greatly against his own will, and much to the glory of the Prophet. “No sooner were his fetters off, than his feet were again in the stirrup; and many of Tippoo’s horsemen, men of desperate fortunes, without a country, a service, or a master, became his willing followers.” His predatory band became so numerous that he overran the district of Biddenore—and at last he became so formidable, that a strong British force was sent to crush him and his robber horde. It was effected—six hundred and fifty of his followers were cut to pieces, and himself driven across the Toombudra into the country of the Peishwah. But here he was not permitted to rest. Ghokla surprised him, and routed him totally, taking his cannon, elephants, tents, and baggage. With difficulty the freebooter escaped, fled none knew where, and in a short time, Dhoondia was almost forgotten.