by Ruskin Bond
De Boigne created an arsenal, a cannon foundry and a small-arms factory; and in five months he had under his command two excellent infantry battalions. He never went to bed before midnight and he rose before dawn. His working days were seven a week, his working hours eighteen a day.
The first time Sindhia inspected his new battalions, he was struck by their discipline. The Deccan soldiery had been till then an army of "irregular ruffians". Every trooper owned his own horse and arms. Unlike the Rajput who fought for his honour, these soldiers fought for money and plunder; naturally they had no wish to imperil their property. His horse and spear were his only capital, and rather than lose them he would often prefer flight in a dangerous situation.
De Boigne's battalions were soon tested. In 1785 the fugitive Emperor Shah Alam had called in the help of Madhavrao Sindhia, who, by re-seating the Emperor on the throne and using him as a figurehead, actually made himself master of the Moghul Empire. The rise of Sindhia roused the fury of the Moghul nobles and caused the Rajput princes to renounce their vassalage to the Empire. Sindhia, at the head of the Imperial Army and de Boigne's battalions, marched into Rajputana. He was attacked by a great Rathor force at Lalsot to the south-east of Jaipur. At the start of the battle the Moghul generals of the Imperial Army, Mohammed Beg and his nephew Ismail Beg, suddenly changed sides, taking their men over to the Rathors. Sindhia ordered an attack before any more troops could go over.
Ismail Beg's cavalry charged the Maratha horse and dispersed them without much difficulty. Immediately afterwards ten thousand mounted Rathors charged de Boigne's battalions, which were all that remained of Sindhia's left wing. De Boigne drew up his men in a hollow square with his guns inside, and waited until the splendid Rathor horsemen were within a hundred yards. Then he ordered his front rank to withdraw behind the guns; and as the Rathors charged home they were met with a terrific storm of grape shot. What was left of the Jodhpur cavalry reached the guns and sabred the artillerymen; but de Boigne ordered his infantry to fire point blank into the struggling mass. The Rathors broke and fled, but before they could reform de Boigne led a counter-attack. This completed the rout, and the Jodhpur horse galloped from the field.
Sindhia now ordered a general assault; but the Imperial forces were determined to fight no further for the Maratha chief. They marched across to the enemy with their drums beating and their colours flying, leaving Sindhia alone with his broken cavalry and de Boigne's two undefeated battalions.
Sindhia withdrew hastily and tried to retrieve his fortunes by allying himself with the Jats of Bharatpur. Their ruler had also engaged a Frenchman named Lestineaux to raise a body of disciplined infantry. At Chaksana the new allies met the Imperial Army commanded by Ismail Beg and a Rohilla named Ghulam Kadir, who was to become notorious in the next few months. A mass of Rajput cavalry charged the Maratha irregular horse and foot, and broke them; but they could make no impression on either Lestineaux's or de Boigne's battalions. These two retreated to Bharatpur: 'meanwhile Ismail Beg had taken Agra from its Maratha garrison, and Ghulam Kadir retreated with the plunder he had collected to his native Rohilkhand.
The astute Sindhia, seeing his enemies divided, resumed the offensive and marched to the relief of Agra. Ismail Beg charged de Boigne's and Lestineaux's battalions; but the sepoys stood their ground and shot down the charging horsemen. De Boigne ordered a general advance, stormed Ismail Beg's camp and scattered his army. Ismail Beg, twice wounded, swam his horse across the Jumna and fled to Ghulam Kadir's camp. The latter marched on Delhi, the gates of which were treacherously opened to him. The only person who attempted to oppose him was the Begum Samru, but her forces were inadequate and she had to retire. Ghulam Kadir seized the Emperor, gouged out his eyes through frustration at being unable to extract from him a treasure which in fact did not exist (Nadir Shah had seen to that), and extracted money and jewellery by torturing members of the Imperial family including the women. Ismail Beg was disgusted with his ally, and went back to Sindhia; and eventually a great Maratha force reoccupied Delhi, released the Emperor and executed Ghulam Kadir. Whatever treasure Ghulam Kadir had collected was removed by Lestineaux, who had been in charge of the pursuit. This unprincipled adventurer promptly disappeared with it, out of the country. Some twenty-five years later he turned up in Syria, a ragged, impoverished individual, sponging on the local Europeans. No trace was ever found of the Imperial jewels.
Shortly after the recapture of Delhi, de Boigne resigned from Sindhia's service. He had asked for an increase of ten battalions under his command, but Sindhia's Maratha officers were jealous of his success and persuaded Sindhia to refuse this request. At Lucknow, de Boigne joined Claude Martine in the cloth and indigo business; but Sindhia, finding himself in difficulties with an army whose morale had been affected by de Boigne's resignation, and worried by the growing power of his Maratha rival Tukoji Holkar, was soon asking de Boigne to return and raise ten battalions on his own terms.
De Boigne, a soldier at heart, could not resist the offer. Away flew ledgers and day books, receipts and bills of lading. Handing back the business to Claude Martine, he dashed to sacred Mathura, Sindhia's headquarters. There he took over his own two mutinous battalions, as well as Lestineaux's. The other seven battalions he recruited in Rohilkhand, Oudh and the valleys of the Jumna and Ganges. His salary was raised to ten thousand rupees, and he was assigned for the cost of his division the whole Doab — the Jumna-Ganges region — with Aligarh as his headquarters. This region's revenue was about £200,000 a year, but through good management de Boigne soon increased it to £300,000.
At that period there was no real administration in India, as this is understood today. The remains of Akbar's system had broken down. In the vast northern region known as Hindustan, stretching from Allahabad to Karnal and from the Vindhyas to the southern slopes of the Himalayas, society was completely paralysed, normal occupations at a standstill. The tramplings of Moghul and Maratha were not the only cause of this. Roads had ceased to exist, towns were deserted. Intercourse between neighbouring villages was made difficult by tigers and wild elephants. The demoralised farmers, not knowing who would reap their crops, reduced their labour to the lowest level necessary for the cultivation of food for themselves. And when the rains failed, production ceased altogether, and thousands died of starvation.
In the heart of this unhappy region de Boigne, backed by an appreciative Sindhia, attempted the first restoration of law and order. The civil administration had two departments: the Persian side, conducted by Indian writers and accountants; and the 'French' office under his own supervision. Public dues were fixed by a rough assessment of landed estates, and were collected punctually, thanks to the presence of the military. There were no courts and no system of law, but reports of enquiries by local officials were sent to the General, who gave the final decision, awarding punishments according to his own discretion. De Boigne was generally a safe arbitrator, and the poor preferred him to any other.
He rose, we are told by a young English officer, Thomas Twining, who visited him, at the crack of dawn; surveyed his stores and factories, inspected his troops, transacted the civil business of his division, gave audience, received the reports of his criminal and fiscal officers, and got through his correspondence, official and private. If today de Boigne is not remembered, it is due to the neglect of English historians, who busied themselves with epics of their own countrymen; but he was a legend in his own time, and had Sindhia lived, and de Boigne not returned to Europe, it is conceivable that the British would never have got a permanent foothold in northern India.
Fifty years after de Boigne left India, old men spoke with genuine regret for the passing of his administration. The introduction of British rule, with its sure, inflexible methods, had the effect of interrupting this welfare and producing a contrast. When land became a security for debt, and ancestral acres were brought to the hammer for defaults of government dues, it was not to be wondered at if people sighed for the days of Sindhia and de
Boigne. Perhaps even now something can be learned from the records of de Boigne's administration.
On the twentieth of June 1790 the ten battalions received their "baptism of fire". Ismail Beg and the rajas of Jaipur and Jodhpur were once again in arms against Madhavrao Sindhia. De Boigne's division, flanked by Maratha cavalry, came out to meet them, and in a few hours de Boigne was able to write to a friend: "Thank God, I have realised all the sanguine expectations of Sindhia." The Rajput and Moghul cavalry were destroyed, a hundred cannon taken, and the town of Patan carried by storm. Ismail Beg, though as always in the forefront of the battle, managed to escape again when he saw that all was lost. Sindhia was all gratitude to de Boigne for this success; his only criticism being that de Boigne had returned to the vanquished the plunder taken by the Maratha soldiers.
The raja of Jodhpur would not accept the defeat as final. The Rathor women taunted him and his nobles with having lost the five things that a Rajput cherishes most — their horses, their shoes, their turbans, their moustaches and the "Sword of Mar-war". The raja called out every Rathor capable of bearing arms, from the ages of sixteen to sixty, and in September they assembled at Merta, sworn to restore their honour or perish.
The rugged Arravallis had caught the first rays of the morning sun when de Boigne decided to take the offensive and attack the Rajput camp. The Rathor horsemen were clothed in saffron, which meant that they would neither give nor take quarter. "Remember Patan!" they cried, and, drunk with opium, repeatedly charged the squares of de Boigne. They were shot down in hundreds only to reform and charge again. It is said that four thousand saddles were emptied in the return ride. At last only fifteen were left. They dismounted and fought on foot until they too were killed.
By three in the afternoon de Boigne had taken the town of Merta. The grateful Sindhia showered honours on him. He Ordered him to raise another ten thousand men at once, and three years later (1793) another ten thousand. De Boigne now had under his command a corps of thirty thousand men with a hundred and twenty guns.
It was the ambition of every soldier to serve under de Boigne. Half a century before his time, he had made innovations undreamt of in the armies of the Indian princes. From the beginning, one of his main objects was to minimise the horrors of war. Officers and soldiers who were wounded in his service received financial compensation; disabled men were awarded grants of land, and special provision was made for the relatives of those killed in action. A medical department, attached to which was an ambulance corps, was on hand at every battle. Medical aid to the wounded is taken for granted today. It was unheard of in India until the end of the eighteenth century. Conditions under de Boigne were in fact better than in the Company's army.
He was a born leader of men. "There was something in his face and bearing," wrote the Bengal Journal in 1790, "that depicted the hero, and compelled implicit obedience. In deportment he was commanding, and walked with the majestic tread of conscious greatness. The strong cast of his countenance and the piercing expression of his eyes indicated the force and power of his mind. On the grand stage, where he acted so brilliant and important a part for ten years, he was at once dreaded and idolised, feared and admired, respected and beloved".
De Boigne's successes led Tukoji Holkar to raise another disciplined force, under the command of a Breton called du Drenec. When the rival Maratha armies met at Laikhari in September 1793, du Drenec's men were outnumbered; and, although they fought well, they were cut to pieces. This victory made Madhavrao Sindhia the greatest ruler in India. But just as it seemed possible that his scheme for a confederation of Indian States might come to pass, he fell victim to a fever and died near Poona. Power in India had always been the prerogative of individuals, and with Sindhia's passing a whole Empire was to pass out of existence.
Colonel Malleson, in his Final French Struggles, wrote: "It must never be lost sight of that the great dream of Madhavrao Sindhia's life was to unite all the native powers of India in one great confederacy against the English. In this respect he was the most far-sighted statesman that India has ever produced.... It was a grand idea, capable of realisation by Madhavji, but by him alone, and which, but for his death, would have been realised."
A change of masters is rarely welcome; and Daulat Rao did not have the attractive character of his predecessor Madhavrao. De Boigne began to think of returning to his homeland. He had not rested for eighteen years, and his health was beginning to show signs of the strain. He resigned his service, but Daulat Rao could not be induced to accept his resignation until December 1795.
On the plains of Agra, where seven years before he had won an Empire for Madhavrao Sindhia, de Boigne paraded his battalions in review for the last time. Here is the scene as conjured up by Herbert Compton: "The General, tall, gaunt and martial, his rugged features showing signs of failing health, is seated on his charger. He watches with sadness in his piercing eyes his veterans passing before him for the last time. The sword, that has so often led the way to victory, now, and for the last time, trembles in his hand as he brings it to the salute."
Four years after de Boigne left India, Sindhia's successor wrote to him: "Since it has pleased the Universal Physician to restore to you the blessing of health, and having regard to our jealous impatience to see you again, it is your bounden duty no more to prolong your stay in Europe, but to appear before the presence with all possible despatch . . . without your wisdom the execution of the greatest of projects is entirely suspended."
But de Boigne never returned, and his successor Perron, like the great Sindhia's successor, was not equal to the challenge of the British.
When de Boigne reached England in 1797, carrying with him a fortune of £400,000, he was forty-seven years old. With him were his Persian wife, whom we know only by the name of "Helene", and his two children, Banoo and Ali Baksh. Little Ah Baksh was baptized Charles Alexander Benet de Boigne in London, and was destined to inherit de Boigne's fortune and estates at Chambery in Savoy. Unfortunately for de Boigne he went early in 1799 to a charity concert in London. There he heard a girl of seventeen sing beautifully, and the song and the fresh charm and beauty of the girl turned his head. The man who had conquered half of India became the singer's slave. She was a Mlle. Osmond, the daughter of a French nobleman who had fled to England during the French Revolution.
A few days after the concert the General asked for the hand of Mile. Osmond. She was very frank. She did not, could not love a man so much older than herself; but, as her family were ruined, she would marry the General to assure their comfort. De Boigne accepted her conditions. In 1804 he took his wife to Paris and persuaded Buonaparte to allow her parents to return to France. Then he went home to Savoy and bought the castle of Buisson Rond, close to Chambery.
As expected, the couple did not get on well together. Mlle. Osmond felt that their union should not descend to a physical level. Leaving her husband at Chambery, she went to stay in Paris, where she lived lavishly on her husband's money.
De Boigne, alone at Chambery, turned his attention to his native town. He spent £120,000 in building poor houses, schools, hospitals and orphanages, and erected the first properly managed lunatic asylum in Europe. His chief pleasures were visits from Englishmen or Frenchmen he had known in India. Both Colonel Tod, the author of Annals of Rajasthan, and Grant Duff, the historian of the Marathas, have written of the cordiality and kindness shown to them when they visited de Boigne at Buisson Rond. His only companion at that time was an old servant he had brought with him from India and who managed all the household arrangements.
This was de Boigne two years before his death: "His frame and stature were Herculean, and he was full six feet two inches in height. His aspect was mild and unassuming, and he was unostentatious in his habit and demeanour, preserving at his advanced age all the gallantry and politeness of the vielle cour. He disliked, from modesty, to refer to his past deeds, and so seemed to stranger s to have lost his memory. But in the society of those who could partake of the emotions it aw
akened, the name of Merta always stirred in him associations whose call he could not resist. The blood would mount to his temples, and the old fire came into his eyes, as he recalled, with inconceivable rapidity and eloquence, the story of that glorious day. But he spoke of himself as if it were another, and always concluded with the words, 'My past appears a dream!' "
On the twenty-first of June 1830 the old adventurer passed away amid the deep and sincere grief of Chambery. Citizens flocked to his funeral. For three days the shops were closed. The Ring of Sardinia had a bust of de Boigne placed in the public library; and from money raised by public subscription, a fountain flanked by elephants and surmounted by the General's statue was placed in the public square. The modern tourist, hurrying through Chambery, must often wonder what this exotic fountain is all about; few stop to enquire.
But the name of de Boigne is still honoured in Savoy, the de Boigne fountain still plays in Chambery Square, and the descendants of Sindhia's French General and his Persian lady still live in the castle of Buisson Rond.
THE ROMANCE OF THE MAIL RUNNER
E FIND LITTLE that is romantic in the post office today; but there was a time, over a hundred years ago, when the carrying of the mails was a hazardous venture, and the mail runner, or hirkara as he was called, had to be armed with a sword or spear. That was before the railways and the air services made the delivery of the mail a routine affair.
Though the first public postal service was introduced in India by Warren Hastings in 1774, the Kings and Emperors of India had always maintained their own personal postal system. Their rule was effective partly due to their excellent means of communication, by which despatches were passed on from hand to hand either by runner or horseman. When Ibn Batuta was travelling in India in the middle of the fourteenth century he found an organised system of couriers established throughout the country by Mohammed Bin Tughlak.