The Sikh empire was now de facto British territory and the vultures were circling. Lord Hardinge felt that annexation was premature because there remained tens of thousands of Sikh soldiers scattered across the empire, who would surely revolt if it was attempted. He decided to bide his time and focused instead on weakening the empire by reducing its territory and army and boosting rival powers on its frontier. This doctrine was codified in the Treaty of Lahore which was imposed upon the Sikh court.
Under the terms of the treaty, Maharaja Duleep Singh was to continue as king, Rani Jindan as his regent and Raja Lal Singh as Wazir. Real power, however, was to be wielded by Henry Lawrence, who was named the new British Resident. The Jalandhar Doab region was annexed and the Sikh army was reduced to 20,000 infantry and 12,000 cavalry. A war indemnity of 15 million rupees was imposed on the Sikh empire and because of its inability to pay, the regions between the Beas and the Indus, including Kashmir and Hazara were seized. Most of the seized territory was sold to Raja Gulab Singh Dogra for 7.5 million rupees and he was declared the Maharaja of Jammu and Kashmir. George Lawrence was appointed to Peshawar to administer Hazara and the other surrounding hill territories. John Lawrence was appointed Commissioner of the Jalandhar Doab. Effectively, the Sikh Empire was now ruled by the three Lawrence brothers and Gulab Singh Dogra, with Maharaja Duleep Singh reduced to being a mere figurehead. A ruling council comprised of Sikh chiefs was set up to keep up appearances that there was a functioning court.
While Raja Lal Singh fell from favour and was banished, Tej Singh continued to serve his new masters and became the most prominent courtier in Lahore.
A new treaty was imposed upon the empire in December 1846 at Bhairowal, under the terms of which the British took on the maintenance of the empire’s administration and the protection of the Maharaja as long as he remained a minor. The British Resident was effectively promoted to become the de facto governor of the empire with the authority to act independent of the court. Rani Jindan was removed as regent and pensioned off.
The new British administrators, John Lawrence in particular, tried to impose land reforms, which had unintended consequences. They managed to alienate the powerful Sardars and landowners who felt threatened by the new laws and feared being stripped of their holdings in the future. The most disaffected, of course, were Rani Jindan who had lost all power and the other formerly powerful courtiers. Of course, they were only reaping what they had sowed; they had used the British to weaken the Sikh army and break the hold of the panches upon the court, but in the process had been rendered toothless and irrelevant. Rani Jindan began to play the role of the wronged woman very effectively and such was the mystique of Maharaja Ranjit Singh’s name that his widow started eliciting tremendous sympathy from the masses, who bridled at the sidelining of the queen mother.
Henry Lawrence was much perturbed by her machinations and decided that he had to get rid of her. A pretext presented itself when Maharaja Duleep Singh refused to apply the saffron mark on Tej Singh’s forehead to mark his elevation at court. Lawrence blamed Rani Jindan for instigating her son and ordered her removed to Sheikhupura form Lahore. There had also been rumours that Rani Jindan was plotting to murder Tej Singh. Rani Jindan flatly refused to leave and was forcibly dragged out of the palace, screaming. Her allowance was also reduced to less than a third.
These harsh acts only served to further burnish the legend of Rani Jindan in the minds of the common people. Bhai Maharaj Singh, who succeeded Bhai Bir Singh at Naurangabad, came out strongly in favour of the Rani. His arrest was ordered by Henry Lawrence, but he evaded capture and continued to deliver fiery sermons exhorting the people to rise against the foreigners. The British did several other things that raised the ire of the common people. They permitted the slaughter of cattle, which enraged the Hindus, behaved arrogantly and often entered gurdwaras with their shoes on and on multiple occasions, molested Punjabi women. The empire was a veritable powder keg. To the potent mix were added about 20,000 Sikh soldiers who had been dismissed after the battle of Sabraon and roamed the countryside without an occupation.
The spark came unexpectedly.
The province of Multan, part of the Sikh empire, was ruled by Diwan Mulraj, one of the late Maharaja Ranjit Singh’s trusted courtiers. The British Resident had fixed his annual assessment at two million rupees while taking the district of Jhang, a third of his territory, from him. Frustrated by British control and hemmed in to the point of not being able to pay his assessment, Mulraj resigned his post in December 1847. The Resident induced him to stay on until March the following year and leave after the harvest. Mulraj wanted his son to succeed him but General Kahn Singh Mann was chosen the new governor of Multan and was sent to commence his duties, accompanied by a Sikh army contingent and two British officers, Vans Agnew from the civil service and Lieutenant Anderson. Without any encouragement from Mulraj, some of the soldiers of the Multan army attacked the Englishmen and asked the Sikh soldiers to join them in expelling the hated firangis or foreigners from Punjab. With the exception of Kahn Singh, the Sikh soldiers joined their Multani comrades and that evening they killed both the British officers. Diwan Mulraj was elected by the soldiers to lead the rebellion
A few months earlier, Lord Hardinge had been replaced by Lord Dalhousie, a haughty young blueblood with expansionist ideas, as Governor General. He was hell-bent on annexing Punjab and the Multani rebellion seemed to be just the opportunity he was waiting for. The fact that Henry Lawrence, whose moderating influence might have calmed things down, was away in England turned the situation into a perfect storm. His brother John Lawrence and Edward Currie, who were acting Residents in his absence, were both hawks like Lord Dalhousie.
News of the revolt spread rapidly across all of Punjab. The names of Maharaja Ranjit Singh, Maharaja Duleep Singh and Rani Jindan were invoked and so strong was the anti-British sentiment that the north western part of Punjab began to fill up with Afghan and Baloch fighters, all Muslim, willing to unite with a Sikh army to reinstate a Hindu governor!
Since Mulraj was a vassal of the Lahore court, Edward Currie decided to do nothing and asked the ruling council to rein him in. Both he and Lord Dalhousie wanted the situation to deteriorate further so that they could exploit it to British advantage. To fan the flames further, Currie ordered that Rani Jindan, whom he accused of being the instigator of the rebellion, be deported from Punjab and be sent to Banaras. Her pension was further reduced and she was ejected from her homeland under heavy armed escort, despite the protests of the ruling council.
The Sikh Sardars had until then played along with the British, viewing them as the most reliable guarantors of their estates and their titles. The banishment of Rani Jindan shook them up to a man. Notable among them was Chattar Singh Attariwala, whose daughter was betrothed to the young Maharaja. Chattar Singh Attariwala was the overlord of the northwestern territories including Hazara and his son Sher Singh Attariwala was a member of the ruling council in Lahore. They began to suspect that the British had no intention of restoring the empire to Duleep Singh when he came to age. With their dreams of an Attariwala queen starting to fade, they started to consider rebellion.
The situation escalated when Chattar Singh Attariwala had a falling out with Captain Abbot, his nominal British assistant. In August 1848, Abbot roused local Muslim tribesmen against Chattar Singh, much to his chagrin. Chattar Singh sought refuge at the fort of Haripur, which was under the command of Colonel Canora, an American officer who had served the Sikh Empire for many years. When Chattar Singh demanded that Canora evacuate the fort for his use, he refused unless Captain Abbott confirmed the order. In the melee that followed, Colonel Canora was killed. Chattar Singh Attariwala was accused of cold-blooded murder and his estates were confiscated.
The proud Chattar Singh Attariwala responded with an open revolt against the British. He opened negotiations with Emir Dost Mohammad, the Sikhs’ old Afghan foe, and got an assurance of support in exchange for territory. He also appealed to
his friend Raja Gulab Singh Dogra, who, true to form, did nothing other than parade his troops up and down the frontier.
Sher Singh Attariwala issued an open proclamation, condemning the British for their treatment of Rani Jindan and the people of Punjab. This act of a powerful member of the ruling council emboldened other Sikh chiefs to join the rebellion as well. Only Tej Singh and a few other subservient courtiers remained true to their British masters.
Dalhousie was delighted. In a letter to his friend Sir George Couper, written on 8 October, 1848, he wrote: ‘The insurrection in Hazara has made great head … I can see no escape from the necessity of annexing this infernal country … I have drawn my sword and thrown away my scabbard…’92
Before leaving Calcutta for the frontier, Lord Dalhousie made a formal declaration of war against the ‘Sikh nation’.
Lord Gough, who had successfully led the British during the First Anglo-Sikh War, was still commander-in-chief. His powerful army consisted of 50,000 troops stationed on the Sutlej, 9000 in Lahore and another 9000 at Ferozepur. In contrast the entire Sikh army consisted of 20,000 infantry and 12,000 cavalry. It was a most unequal contest. When Gough’s force crossed the Sutlej, there were essentially two centres of resistance, one led by Diwan Mulraj in the south and the other led by the Attariwalas in the north-west. Gough marched up to the Chenab River to engage the Attariwala forces. There were several skirmishes around the Chenab and the superior firepower of the British pushed the Sikhs further westward to the Jhelum. The Sikh army dug in with the Jhelum behind them and thick brushwood intersected by deep ravines in front of them. The Sikhs had started to run low on supplies but the stand-off continued. The British were buoyed by good news from the Multan front. Quite by accident a British cannonball had struck the magazine of the impregnable Multan fort, blowing up a huge store of gunpowder and killing five hundred of the defenders. The tide of battle had turned and Mulraj’s surrender was inevitable.
On 13 January, 1849, the battle of Chillianwala began when Lord Gough ordered an attack on the entrenched Sikh force by the Jhelum. The Sikhs saw the British approaching and opened fire, their guns holding the attackers at bay for more than an hour. The British, who greatly outnumbered the Sikhs, charged in an attempt to force the Sikhs into the river. The Sikhs dispersed into the brushwood and adopted their dhai phatt hit and run tactics of yore. The British were routed. Several guns were captured as were the colours of three British regiments. It was the greatest military defeat that the British had ever suffered in India.
Major General Sir Joseph Thackwell described the carnage:
The scene of the retreat presented a melancholy spectacle … Prince Albert hats and military shoes in all directions, strewing the ground in great abundance … the camp overspread with funereal gloom.93
The British suffered heavy casualties, losing more than 3000 men. As soon as the fighting stopped, it began to rain heavily, the downpour lasting three days and preventing the Sikhs from pressing home their advantage. On the fourth day the British retreated. Lord Gough was replaced by Sir Charles Napier as commander-in-chief. The Attariwalas, who had captured George Lawrence, released him and sent him back with terms for a truce, demanding that Duleep Singh be installed as Maharaja and the British leave Punjab.
The offer was summarily rejected.
An uneasy calm prevailed for a little over a month. The Attariwalas followed the British who had retreated eastwards towards the Chenab and entrenched themselves between the town of Gujarat and the river. The Sikhs were outnumbered and had fewer guns than the British, but they had been energised by the victory at Chillianwala.
The Battle of Gujrat began at 7:30 a.m. on 21 February, 1849 with an attack by the British. The Sikh gunners opened fire too soon, betraying their positions. The British responded with an hour-long cannonade that destroyed the Sikh artillery. Then their cavalry and artillery charged with devastating effect. Detachments of Afghan cavalry that had joined the Sikhs tried to deflect the charge, without success. The weight of numbers and the superior firepower settled the issue. The outnumbered Sikhs fought valiantly. In the words of General Thackwell:
In this action … the Sikhs caught hold of the bayonets of their assailants with their left hands and dealt furious sword blows with their tight. This alone will suffice to demonstrate the rare species of courage possessed by these men.94
The British, their beloved rules of fair play all but forgotten, were merciless in victory. They occupied Gujrat and pursued the Sikhs until they had killed every man they could find. Daniel Augustus Sandford was a young British officer who saw action at both Chillianwala and Gujarat. The aftermath of the British victory in his words:
We advanced into their camp over heaps of dead and dying. Everything was in confusion – tumbrils overturned, guns dismounted, camels and oxen rushing wildly about, wounded horses plunging in agony, beds blankets, boxes strewed about the ground in a perfect chaos … the wounded lying groaning, some begging to be dispatched and some with scowling looks of impotent rage, striving to cut down those who came near them … Little quarter, I am ashamed to say, was given and even those we managed to save from the vengeance of our men were killed afterwards.95
The Battle of Gujrat was the last organised attempt by the Sikhs to oust the British. On 11 March, 1849, the Attariwalas formally surrendered to Major General Gilbert near Rawalpindi. The entire Sikh army followed suit on March 14. General Thackwell described the scene: ‘The reluctance of the old Sikh veterans to surrender was evident. Some could not restrain their tears while on the faces of others, rage and hatred were visibly depicted.’96
As a grey bearded veteran threw down his arms, he was heard to say: ‘Ajj Ranjit Singh marr gya!’ (Today, Ranjit Singh has died!)
On 29 March, 1849 the court of Lahore convened for the last time. A proclamation was issued, declaring the end of the Sikh empire. Maharaja Duleep Singh handed over the Kohinoor to the British conquerors and stepped down from his father’s throne, never to sit on it again.
The fate of Duleep Singh, though the subject of many romanticised accounts, is nothing more than a footnote to the history of the empire of Maharaja Ranjit Singh.
Duleep Singh was exiled from Punjab and was sent from Lahore to Fatehgarh under the care of Dr. John Login, who remained his mentor for many years. Severe restrictions were placed on who could meet him. As a matter of British policy, he was anglicised in every way possible and in 1853, he renounced the Sikh faith and converted to Christianity with the enthusiastic approval of Lord Dalhousie.
In May of 1854, Duleep Singh was sent to London along with his cousin Shiv Dev Singh. Queen Victoria was charmed by him and he became a great favourite of hers. He was given an estate at Elveden, in Suffolk and he started to live the life of an English country gentleman. Rani Jindan, meanwhile had escaped to Kathmandu and was living there as a guest of the King of Nepal. The ageing Rani was feeble and going blind, and no longer considered a political threat by the British government. Duleep Singh was allowed to travel to Calcutta in 1861 and bring her back to England to live with him.
Rani Jindan died in 1863 and Duleep Singh was permitted to bring her ashes back to India. On his way back to England, he married Bamba Muller, the daughter of a German merchant and his Ethiopian wife, in Alexandria. Duleep Singh was a big spender and his lavish lifestyle got him deep into debt. Bitter quarrels with the British government resulted from his attempts to get his allowance increased.
Duleep Singh started dreaming of reclaiming his lost kingdom and when his appeals to the British Government fell on deaf ears, he tried to enlist the help of various European powers and revolutionaries without success. He also started writing to various Indian princes and chiefs in an attempt to make common cause with them. He managed to make contact with his kinsman Thakur Singh Sandhawalia, who visited him in England in 1884 and helped rekindle his interest in Sikhism. Duleep Singh decided to return to India to embrace his old faith again in an elaborate public ceremony. The British Governm
ent, fearful of the excitement that a large public event featuring the son of the late Maharaja Ranjit Singh might create, tried to dissuade him. Duleep Singh defiantly boarded a ship bound for India in March 1886. He was however, detained in Aden and frustrated, decided to have his reconversion ceremony there and return to England.
His wife, Bamba, died and in June 1889, he married Ada Douglas Wetherell, a young woman he had met earlier and had started an affair with, when she worked as a chambermaid at a London hotel, much to Queen Victoria’s disapproval. His desperate attempts to win his crown back continued and he even visited Russia, Ada in tow, to convince the Czar to invade India from the North West and help him recover his lost kingdom. He was not taken seriously by the Russians and dejected, left Moscow for Paris. In 1890, his debts, which had continued to accumulate, were paid off by the British Government and he was granted the queen’s pardon. In 1891, he met Queen Victoria for the final time and reconciled with her.
Duleep Singh died in Paris in 1893, broken and lonely. He was buried at Elveden.
Shah Muhammad was a nineteenth-century poet, who is best known for his work, Jangnama-Singhan Te Firangian, an account of the first Anglo-Sikh war and the decline of the Sikh empire. The first stanza of his poem, written around 1846, is a fitting epitaph to Maharaja Ranjit Singh’s empire:
Praise unto the one divine
Fashions all that we can see
Fourteen worlds having adorned
Myriad forms he does decree
Tidying up the hoary past
Paths anew create does he
Fear him then, declares this bard,
By his wont, kings, will beggars be.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The Camel Merchant of Philadelphia owes its existence primarily to the curiosity of the students who attended my Sikh History class at the New England Sikh Study Circle, in the Boston Area. Their engagement and interest is what prompted me to immerse myself in all the accounts of Maharaja Ranjit Singh’s empire that I could lay my hands on. While I had been writing for a few years, even when I was a busy executive in the tech industry, an introduction to T. Sher Singh, the editor of the web magazine, Sikhchic, was the catalyst that truly turned me into a writer. T. Sher Singh, a man of strong opinions, who is not shy about sharing them, provided me with a lot of encouragement and nuanced feedback when I started writing a column for Sikhchic.
The Camel Merchant of Philadelphia Page 24