Last King in India: Wajid Ali Shah

by Rosie Llewellyn-Jones

  Much more worrying was the news in January 1862 that the king had been forced to mortgage his recently purchased house, Sultan Khana. A Hindu moneylender, Manohar Das, had obtained a High Court decree against Wajid ‘Ali Shah over loans which had not been repaid. It was another embarrassment. The deeds of the house were made over to three men, including Safdar ‘Ali, who was to cause the king endless trouble, and Zulfiqar-ud-daulah, one of the king’s ‘most intimate and trusted retainers’ and his brother-in-law, who had shared imprisonment with him. A ‘stay of execution’ was granted for the moment. Could the king actually mortgage a house bought for him by the British government? Apparently he could. Lord Canning, in the last months of his governorship, confirmed, ‘however painful it may be to see him [Wajid ‘Ali Shah] squandering the property granted to him as a residence by the State, it is absolutely at His Majesty’s disposal’. Canning also cautioned the king against allowing himself to be bound by the acts of his servants, and regretted that, in spite of the liberal provisions of his government pension, he was deep in ‘pecuniary difficulties which must prove ruinous to him and his family’ and that the government would not extricate him from these.13 But in fact it did—not by paying off his debts, but by something more subtle.

  Within a week of his arrival, the new governor general, the Earl of Elgin, was to give his assent to ‘The King of Oude Act No. VIII of 1862’. This was one of five ‘King of Oude’ Acts passed during Wajid ‘Ali Shah’s lifetime (the sixth and final Act was passed posthumously). The Act passed on 27 March 1862 was to set out the ‘expediency of partially exempting the King of Oude from the jurisdiction of the Courts of Law’. It meant that Wajid ‘Ali Shah could not be summoned to a criminal or a civil court and that he could not be served with a warrant, or arrested in his own house. If he had to be interrogated, then Major Herbert, or subsequent agents, would show him a list of written questions and take down the royal answers. There were various clauses and caveats, of course. If the king committed an offence that was punishable by death under the Indian Penal Code, then he would not be exempted. If anyone attempted to serve a writ concerning civil, revenue or criminal matters, it had to be approved first by the governor general and signed by the Secretary to the government of India. Although this was unfair to the king’s existing creditors, the hope was, as Herbert admitted, that it would in future ‘prevent persons from granting His Majesty unlimited credit and producing eventual troubles’. There was a constant emphasis on avoiding the trouble that would ensue if the king’s expenditure was not reined in. Since he had so far given every indication that he was not going to live within his means, it seemed sensible to warn off potential creditors. There was also the faint hope that by preserving the king’s dignity and not allowing him to be sued, he might turn over a new leaf and actually cut down on his expenses. This hope was not to be realised.

  In November 1863 the Earl of Elgin died suddenly from a heart attack while on tour in the Kulu Valley. Sir John Lawrence was appointed to succeed him and was in Calcutta by the beginning of the following year. Unlike many of his predecessors, Lawrence knew India well and was highly respected for having kept the volatile Punjab under control during the Uprising. It was his elder brother, the saintly Sir Henry, who had been killed at the beginning of the siege of the Lucknow Residency. Sir John was briefed on the situation at Garden Reach by the Secretary to the Foreign Department, Henry Marion Durand, who tried (and failed) to explain away the apparent contradictions in the 1862 Act.

  It was true, Durand wrote, that the governor general had the legal authority to prevent Wajid ‘Ali Shah from being sued by his creditors for debt, but the ‘exercise of this power in favour of the King of Oude might assume a very dubious and unpopular aspect if His Majesty, building on such anticipated immunity, were to run riot in extravagance’. Durand went on: ‘It would seem but fair to warn tradesmen in Calcutta that all credit granted to His Majesty must be on their own risk … it would be exceedingly inexpedient to expose the King to the humiliation and distress which if he live, and no check be given to the extravagance, is sure to over take him.’14 (It was not the first time that the king’s health had been discussed in this way, with the implication that he was not long for this world.)

  Sir John, bringing a fresh mind to bear on the dilemma, dashed off a note in response. While agreeing with the Secretary, he thought that the Act did not ‘absolutely exempt’ the king from jurisdiction and believed that some leeway was allowed to the civil courts. He ordered that a third opinion should be sought, that of the clever Henry Maine, a member of Council, Vice-Chancellor of Calcutta University and an expert in law and legal history. Like all good lawyers, Maine refused to commit himself. ‘I agree with His Excellency [the Governor General] that the King is not intended to have perfect immunity for the consequences of his imprudence, but some responsibility is cast on the Government which, on the one hand could not sanction all process against the King as a mere matter of form and on the other hand could not systematically refuse its consent to the King’s being sued.’ Maine thought, however, that the idea of a written warning to Calcutta tradesmen was the best way forward.15

  Major Herbert was closer to the situation, not least because he was enduring a Calcutta monsoon while the government enjoyed the summer in Shimla, and thought there would be difficulties in issuing a circular to tradesmen because ‘it would be extremely difficult, if not impossible to get a complete list of the entire native trades-people of Calcutta with whom His Majesty is supposed to have dealings through his people. And if they left any out, as is probable, from the circular, they could probably say when it suited them, that they had not been warned.’16 There was also the fact that a government circular might be ‘misunderstood particularly among the native dealers in the bazaar’, because it would imply that the government felt that there was a danger of its being held responsible for the king’s debts, and might therefore put ideas into the heads of tradesmen and moneylenders which had not been there before. Although everyone knew that the king’s pension came direct from the government, the responsibility for his own financial misconduct was entirely his own.

  Wajid ‘Ali Shah blithely ignored the bankers, merchants and tradesmen to whom he owed money. He ‘only deals with his own followers from whom he purchases whatever he may require without reference to how or where they may obtain the articles and understanding that they make a profit on each transaction’.17 Herbert had his own suggestions about how the king might be reined in. ‘The root of the mischief lies in the character of certain persons about His Majesty’s person, who pamper his fancies and passions in order to enrich themselves at the cost of His Majesty’s extravagance.’ Referring to Safdar ‘Ali and Zulfiqar-ud-daulah, Herbert thought that if they could be removed, the situation would improve. It was Herbert’s unpleasant task to question Wajid ‘Ali Shah during the High Court case between the moneylender Manohar Das and Zulfiqar-ud-daulah. Because Wajid ‘Ali Shah could not be called to appear in court, Herbert was instructed by the High Court to ask a series of ‘cross interrogatories’, which were all the more distressing as the king was fond of Zulfiqar-ud-daulah. But it became clear that his ‘trusted retainer’ was charged with making large sums of money from his transactions, using the king’s name. At the end of a two-hour session of writing answers to the interrogatories, the king was left so exhausted that Herbert discreetly left, with other important business unfinished.18

  Instructions came down from Shimla that Herbert was to issue the warning to Calcutta tradesmen in spite of his misgivings, ‘as it may have the effect of deterring merchants and tradesmen from trusting the King’. As for complaints about ‘certain persons’ at Garden Reach, he was told that the government of India had ‘no power’ to remove such people. But this was at the heart of the problem. Wajid ‘Ali Shah had often exhibited a credulous, over-trusting nature, and coupled with his undoubted selfishness and disregard for petty financial problems, he was naturally a victim for those wishing to exploit him for th
eir own benefit. In this he was doing no more than following the example of his forebearers, who simply could not say no to anyone who suggested something excitingly new and expensive on which to spend money. Wajid ‘Ali Shah had cleverly circumvented the intentions of the 1862 Act. If the idea had been to deter people from lending him money or allowing him goods on credit because they could not sue him if he defaulted, then why not get his courtiers to act for him? Safdar ‘Ali, the chief karindah or agent, would purchase goods and negotiate loans in his own name, then sell them on to the king. At a profit, of course.

  How and when munshi Safdar ‘Ali first inveigled himself into the king’s confidence is not known, nor where he came from. It was later claimed that he had begun supplying Wajid ‘Ali Shah with goods in December 1859. The first mention of him is in April 1860 when, as we have seen, he was sent by the king to threaten Khas Mahal. The title of ‘munshi’ means a scribe or writer, and it may be that he had originally been employed as a clerk in one of the offices, but like employees before him he quickly realised the opportunities to make considerable sums of money, far more than could be earned at his original trade. The fact that Wajid ‘Ali Shah trusted him sufficiently to intimidate the chief wife meant that Safdar ‘Ali had wormed his way into the king’s circle shortly after Wajid ‘Ali Shah had left prison. He was the king’s new best friend, and one of the three men who now held the title deeds to the Sultan Khana.

  The agent’s warnings about the munshi and his gang went unheeded, and for six years Wajid ‘Ali Shah was extravagantly overcharged for goods and services provided by Safdar ‘Ali and his cronies. What did the king get for his money? One supplier, Lisan-us-Sultan, who was later to petition Wajid ‘Ali Shah, listed what he had ‘presented, furbished and prepared, in compliance with Your Majesty’s order’. There were ‘utensils studded with jewels, glass wares, pictures or portraits, looking glass, tables, chairs, a kind of sofa, almirah [cupboards], articles to furnish the tables and dresses of every description’, carpetings, screens, pillows, glass, lime, brick-powder, bricks, [wooden] beams, rafters and colours [wall paint], nawar [thick tape for tying up blinds], cut seetulpati [fine canes for woven matting], iron, copper, fancy silver laces, and articles for the erection and decoration of new buildings at Garden Reach. Lisan-us-Sultan had started working for the king immediately on the latter’s release from prison in the summer of 1859. In just under two years, he had spent, on the king’s orders, the equivalent of £130,000, a long way over Wajid ‘Ali Shah’s total annual pension of £120,000.19 Another petitioner had supplied ‘goods of all kinds, shawls, wearing apparel and money in cash to supply the urgent wants of the King’.

  In December 1865 a petition to Sir John Lawrence was received from Gajadhar Lal, an accountant in the service of Wajid ‘Ali Shah. Lal had gone to some trouble to get his petition printed, on blue paper.20 After a polite preamble, he stated that since the governor general had custody of the ‘ex-king of Oude’, he supposed that Lawrence ‘would take an interest in the proper management of his pecuniary affairs’; otherwise the governor general would, in future, have to provide for a numerous family of wives and princes. Lal reported that dishonest officers employed by the king ‘have introduced here a greater degree of mismanagement and fraud than they dared practise at Lucknow’. Now these same officers were demanding payment of more than 50 lakhs, equivalent to about half a million sterling. It was in pursuit of a small part of this enormous sum that a civil court writ had already been served on the king, which had led to the hastily devised Act of 1862, disallowing such writs to be served, except with the governor general’s approval. Not only was the 50 lakhs debt looming, but the king was being pestered by petty claims ‘even for labourers for amounts which His Excellency paid, but [which were] appropriated to themselves by the aforesaid officers’.

  Gajadhar Lal added that, as one of the king’s accountants, he ‘knew all the secrets of that Department’ and that if Lawrence was ‘graciously pleased to arm your petitioner with power, he will be able to detect and bring to light all the fraudulent items in the accounts, and thereby extricate the ex-King from the liability of more than 50 lakhs of rupees’. Lal sensed that as a whistle-blower his job was under threat, because in his next petition, of January 1866, he reported that he had been dismissed by Safdar ‘Ali immediately after the December petition had become known, and this had produced a ‘sensation’ at Garden Reach. Major Herbert had written to the king with a polite request that the royal accounts be inspected, following Lal’s accusations. Citing the privacy of his palace accounts the king had refused, ‘on the advice of those whose interest was at stake’, claimed Lal. Was it just a palace squabble with a Hindu working in a Muslim court, or something more serious?

  Lal also added, reasonably enough, that if Safdar ‘Ali did not have anything to hide, then he should agree to an inspection of the books.21 The excuse that the palace accounts were private was groundless. These accounts ‘are the daily jumma khurruch [accumulated balance] in the hands of several accountants under Moonshee Sufdar and others’. But Wajid ‘Ali Shah knew nothing about these accounts, because they were never put in front of him. They showed the actual amounts paid to the traders, not the inflated figures that the king was being charged. No further action was taken at the time. Less than six months later, in June 1866, Safdar ‘Ali was dead and the whole sorry mess of cheating and false accounting began to unravel.

  Safdar ‘Ali had built up a little empire of his own, outsourcing the king’s requests through various contacts, so that Wajid ‘Ali Shah never appeared as the purchaser of goods and services and therefore could not be accused of debt when he did not pay up. It had been Safdar ‘Ali’s custom to make monthly repayments to the middlemen who had supplied him with goods that he then sold on to the king at vastly inflated prices. With the munshi’s death, these payments of course stopped, leaving a number of people considerably out of pocket; they complained loudly and threatened to sue the king. Safdar ‘Ali was ‘a notorious scoundrel and robbed the King whenever he had a chance’, claimed a number of creditors, with hindsight. An unidentified vernacular newspaper expanded on this: ‘The management of the King’s affairs was in the hands of one Munshi Sufdar, who acted in defiance of all judgement; for one rupee [he] took ten, and cheated in all directions. But even with this knowledge the King treated him kindly, and this gave courage to others who were inclined to be dishonest, and they took every opportunity of robbing and clearing out the house—making away with all they could lay hands on.’22

  The government was unsympathetic to the creditors’ pleas. In many cases, it said, they were ‘great friends of Sufdar Ali [and] their dealings were so large and profitable that they could afford to run a considerable risk’.23 It was suggested that Safdar ‘Ali’s property, at the old Faujdari Bala Khana, should be sold and the proceeds divided among his creditors and heirs. But this would not have met the huge debts run up which were now estimated at nearly £450,000. Eyes were turned towards Wajid ‘Ali Shah, who had, after all, employed Safdar ‘Ali as his agent and who had accepted the goods and services offered to him. With pressure mounting on the king, Major Herbert, who seems to have developed a certain sympathy for his royal charge, introduced to him the man who was to become his financial saviour over the next decade.

  Amir ‘Ali Khan Bahadur was some twelve years older than the king and came from a small town in the Patna District of Bihar. He had had a varied and highly respectable career, with a connection to Lucknow, and was clearly well thought of in official British circles. He had been an assistant superintendent in the Special Commissioner’s Court at Calcutta, and later a government pleader (equivalent to a state prosecutor) in the Sadr Diwani Court. During the Uprising he was hastily sent to Patna as special assistant to the new Commissioner, Mr Samuells, who was trying to control the volatile situation there. Amir ‘Ali managed to keep the Muslim majority inhabitants ‘quiescent if not actively loyal to the British’.24 He received the title of Khan Bahadur in 1864, when he
became a member of the Bengal Legislative Council. By the time he was introduced to Wajid ‘Ali Shah late in 1866, as legal advisor, he carried with him a solid reputation as a man who was prepared to take on the king, and whose attempts to lead him back into financial stability would be respected by government officials. Although Amir ‘Ali’s experience and contacts meant that he was able to negotiate on the king’s behalf with the government and the law courts, there was still a very difficult period ahead for both men. The voices of those owed money by the late Safdar ‘Ali grew louder and shriller until they reached Government House, where Lawrence had been alerted by Gajadhar Lal to what he must already have suspected. It was mischievously pointed out by a newspaper that Wajid ‘Ali Shah, on a yearly pension of £120,000, was actually receiving twice the amount that Queen Victoria got in her privy purse.25