Empire of the Sikhs

by Patwant Singh

  The British now became busy entrenching themselves in Punjab. Relentlessly, and with a clear sense of purpose, they were tightening their hold on Punjab; familiarizing themselves with every stratum of this region with its extraordinary diversity of people, religions, languages, natural resources and beliefs. To make their hold more secure the British insisted on a Second Treaty of Lahore, signed at Bhyrowal on 22 December 1846, which made the once-powerful Sikh empire a virtual protectorate of the British.

  When the stakes are high there can be no squeamishness about means and methods. The British showed none when it came to Ranjit Singh’s last son and heir. Dalip Singh was separated from his mother, the Regent Jindan Kaur, in 1847 at the age of eight when she was exiled from Lahore and placed under the guardianship of Sir John Login, governor of the Lahore Citadel, in 1849. He was banished from the Punjab in February 1850 for fear of some of Punjab’s resentful Sikhs rallying around him and sent to Fatehgarh in Central India. On 8 March 1853, at the age of fifteen, he was quietly converted to Christianity at Fatehgarh. The governor-general’s role in not only uprooting and banishing him from the land of his forefathers but also in his conversion is best summed up in Dalhousie’s words. In a letter to Dalip Singh he wrote: ‘I earnestly hope that your future life may be in conformity by the precepts of that religion, and that you may show to your countrymen in India an example of a pure and blameless life, such as is befitting a Christian prince.’48 Although publicly Dalhousie went out of his way to stress that Dalip Singh had converted by his own free will, in a letter to Sir George Couper he wrote: ‘Politically, we would desire nothing better, for it destroys his influence for ever.’49

  Dalip Singh departed for Britain on 19 April 1854, and that was the last he saw of the land of his birth. At the time of his death in exile, in an insignificant hotel in Paris on 22 October 1893, he was alone and thousands of miles away from the magnificent setting from which he had been forcibly exiled by the British – their way of erasing all that remained of their once worthy foe and his empire. A newspaper report of his death commented: ‘When the son and heir to Ranjit Singh died, there was no one with him to close his eyes.’50

  The government of the Sikh realm, some face-saving devices aside, was now in British hands. In the very year of the fall of the Sikh empire a British writer gave this assessment of the situation: ‘The Government of Lahore may be said to be annihilated. In appearance, it exists: there is a king, a prime minister, and an army. But one and all are dependent on the British power! The capital of the country is not garrisoned by Sikhs. It is entirely in the hands of the paramount power, whose soldiers are lent for a time to preserve the semblance of a government, but in reality to keep possession of the advantages already gained, until the season of the year shall enable the Governor-General to annex the whole country to the British possessions.’51

  Considering the mixed bag of district commissioners, revenue collectors, political agents, engineers, troop commanders and traders who had fanned out across the sprawling Sikh domain, sparks could be expected to fly, given the volatile nature of the Sikhs and the domineering ways of the British. And so it transpired in Multan at the end of 1847, where by April 1848 a small disturbance had developed into a major rebellion. Diwan Mulraj, the able governor of Multan whose father Diwan Sawan Mal had also been a capable and admired governor of this strategically important region, was for various reasons eased out by the British. The troops of the Lahore Durbar did not take kindly to this, and a flashpoint was reached on 20 April when the two British officers who were accompanying Mulraj’s replacement were killed by resentful Sikh soldiers. The killing coincided with, or triggered off, a major rebellion in Multan.

  The new resident at Lahore, Sir Frederick Currie, who had taken over from John Lawrence on 6 March 1848, held the Lahore Durbar responsible for the mutiny, whereas the Sikh view was that it had been precipitated by the Company’s clumsy handling of the situation in its early stages. But the British would not take the blame for it. Currie continued to hold the Durbar responsible for events at Multan and, furthermore, demanded that its Sikh troops put it down. The result of this mindless order was that the rebellion began to spread, with more and more Sikh soldiers rallying around Mulraj, to be joined even by those who had been earlier disbanded from the Sikh army.

  From the time the two British officers were killed, the situation at Multan deteriorated to the point where many felt it to be a prime cause of the Second Sikh War. By June 1848 the Sikhs were forced to retreat inside the fort. On 4 September a trainful of British troops from the Sutlej arrived, and an attack on the city was launched five days later. On 14 September events took a dramatic turn when Raja Sher Singh Attariwala, a Sikh chieftain who was also a good friend of the British, was sent to Multan with a contingent of Durbar troops to help quell the rebellion there. But within days of his arrival things got out of hand. Rebellious Sikh troops not only swung the Darbar troops to their side but brought out the simmering anger in Sher Singh which had been ignited by aspersions cast on his father Sardar Chattar Singh Attariwala, governor of Hazara, a man highly regarded both by the Sikhs and the British resident. An excitable political assistant, Captain James Abbott – described as a ‘suspicious little autocrat’ – had not only spread unworthy reports about Chattar Singh but also mounted an expedition against him. Governor-General Dalhousie, even more excitable and erratic than Abbott, supported him. It was in this inflammable environment of anger and outrage that Chattar Singh’s son Sher Singh was sent to Multan.

  In a manifesto issued by Sher Singh under his seal, he declared: ‘In the first place, they [the English] have broken the treaty, by imprisoning, and sending away to Hindostan, the Maharanee [Rani Jind Kaur], the mother of her people. Secondly, the race of Sikhs, the children of the Maharajah [Ranjit Singh], have suffered so much from their tyranny, that our very religion has been taken away from us. Thirdly, the kingdom has lost its former repute. By the direction of the holy Gooroo, Raja Sher Singh and others, with their valiant troops, have joined the trusty and faithful Dewan Moolraj, on the part of Maharajah Duleep Sing, with a view to eradicate and expel the tyrannous and crafty Feringees.’52

  Instead of showing serious concern at the way things were going, Dalhousie announced that ‘we have without hesitation resolved that Punjab can no longer be allowed to exist as a power and must be destroyed!’ Not content with this brash statement, even more coarsely, he wrote in a letter to London on 8 October 1848: ‘I have drawn the sword and have this time thrown away the scabbard. If the Sikhs, after this is over, arise again, they shall intrench themselves behind a dunghill, and fight with their finger-nails, for if I live twelve months they shall have nothing else to fight with.’53

  As the fighting in Multan escalated, on 16 November 1848 the British commander-in-chief Sir Hugh Gough crossed the Ravi to confront Sher Singh. A week later, at Ramnagar on the River Chenab, a major battle was under way. The Company’s force

  of over 104,000 men, about 60,000 supported by 45 guns, converged to give battle to the Sikhs, whose strength was around 23,000 men, drawn from the Hazzara, Peshawar, Tank and Bannu garrisons, and including Sher Singh’s own contingent. Because the British had for over two years systematically dismantled the Sikh army, sending some of its finest fighting men back to their villages, disbanding its generals and appropriating or destroying its guns, a force of 92,000 men, 31,800 cavalry and over 384 guns was now reduced to a few thousand. Moreover, unlike the British, the heavily outnumbered Sikhs had no reinforcements to fall back upon, as even their unarmed comrades from the Majha and Malwa regions were stopped at river crossings and fords and prevented from joining them. After the British – helped by Pathan horsemen – had taken over the lightly defended fort at Attock, the prospects of Sikh troops from Peshawar joining Chattar Singh’s force at Hazara were also slim.54

  In this first battle of the Second Anglo-Sikh war at Ramnagar on 22 November 1848 the British were decisively defeated. The heavily outnumbered Sikh fo
rces under Sher Singh took a major toll of the enemy whose two cavalry commanders, Brigadier Cureton and Colonel Havelock, were killed. Gough, who tried to make this defeat appear as a victory for the British, got some caustic comments for his pains. While the governor-general said he would rather ‘reserve salutes for real victories which this is not’,55 the president of the Company’s board of directors said that ‘it is no wonder that all confidence in Lord Gough, if it was ever entertained, should have been entirely lost’.56

  The second major battle of the Second Sikh War was fought at Chillianwala on 13 January 1849. Once again the Sikhs were outnumbered in the field when their force of 10,000 men faced a far bigger army. But even then the enemy lost 2,446 men, including 132 officers. Few historians have tried to gloss over the devastating defeat suffered by the British at Chillianwala:

  advancing British infantrymen were mowed down by the terrific fire of the Sikh musketry. The Sikh ghor-charas… in successive onslaughts broke up the British cavalry line and cut down their horsemen … suddenly to their amazement the enemy took to their heels … galloping over their own horse artillery and turning it topsy-turvy leaving their comrades to be slaughtered by the Sikhs. At another site from within the jungle the guns opened up with devastating effect. Lieut. Col. Brookes leading the 24th Foot was killed between the enemy guns. Trapped, the brigade turned to flee in the face of destructive fire of shot and shell. In yet another engagement a large body of Sikhs surrounded the Second Infantry Brigade. Now Gilbert’s Force [Sir Walter Gilbert was divisional commander] had neither the cover of guns nor the support of cavalry. In the hand to hand fight, the brigade was repulsed and driven back with heavy loss.57

  By an extraordinary coincidence this historic engagement took place at nearly the same site where 2,175 years earlier King Porus had fought his battle against the Macedonians under Alexander. This time it was the intruder on Indian soil who was soundly beaten. The irrepressible Gough once more claimed victory for the British at Chillianwala – a claim his own governor-general dismissed as ‘poetical’. Dalhousie’s comment on the ‘victory’ at Chillianwala was that ‘another such would ruin us’. The consternation in London at this setback found expression in many different ways, ranging from the eighty-year-old Wellington’s offer to go to India to set things right to demands for Gough’s immediate recall.

  But Dalhousie was planning to turn the Chillianwala defeat to his advantage. He would use it to demand the complete annexation of Punjab, erase the Sikh state from the face of India and establish British rule over the entire subcontinent. ‘As he knew himself to be always in the right and those who differed from him always in the wrong,’ a late nineteenth-century English historian comments, ‘he naturally desired to shape the growth towards a restricted autonomy of the province, which was the first fruit of his policy of all India for the English.’58 Since expansion was very much in vogue in the higher echelons of power in Britain at that time, Dalhousie’s was a welcome assertion of Britain’s sense of its own destiny, even though there were several men of influence in London, including Auckland, Ellenbrough, Hardinge and Henry Lawrence, who were against the annexation of Punjab.

  The above-quoted historian further observes: ‘It was Henry Lawrence’s refusal to recognise that [the Battle of] Gujrat had destroyed all old title-deeds, and given us a clean slate whereon to inscribe our own sovereign will and pleasure, which soon afterwards caused the final breach between him and the self-willed autocrat [Dalhousie] then guiding our destinies in India.’59 Dalhousie was not easily deterred, and since he was the man on the spot he decided to make the Battle of Gujrat the clincher of the Second Sikh War. Many historians hold that for no other single battle had the British assembled such a formidable force of infantry, horsemen, armour and field artillery of every size, range and destructive power. As for the number of men who confronted each other at 7.30 that morning of 21 February 1849, the British had 56,636 infantry and 11,569 cavalry, while the entire Sikh force facing them consisted of 20,000 men.

  The battle was fought with unbelievable ferocity since each side knew what the ultimate significance of the Battle of Gujrat was: if the British won they would complete their control of India. Thus, even though the Sikhs were outnumbered, outgunned and unable to replenish their supplies as the British could, they fought with passionate intensity for the honour of the Sikh empire, the hallowed teachings of their Gurus and for the sanctity of the very soil of Punjab. When on 14 March 1849 Chattar Singh and Raja Sher Singh Attariwala surrendered to General Gilbert near Rawalpindi, it was the saddest day in the history of a proud and zestful people who had lived and fought all their lives according to their beliefs and with a rare sense of confidence and self-esteem.

  There is a moving account which captures the moment of Sikh grief and deep inner hurt when an old veteran of the Sikh army threw down his sword in disgust at the surrender ceremony with the words ‘Aaj Ranjit Singh mar gayd,’ ‘Ranjit Singh has finally died today.’

  Britain’s dealings with the Sikhs in the ten years after Ranjit Singh’s death, and with the Lahore Durbar in particular, increasingly lacked a moral focus. Even appearances, so beloved of the British, were forgotten except for the platitudes which provided more moral comfort to them than they did to those they were directed at. The overriding purpose of the British during the years 1839-49 was to subjugate India to the status of yet another colony of the British Empire. The officers of the East India Company had shrewdly assessed the extraordinary wealth of India from the moment of their arrival in the subcontinent. But even more important was the untold wealth India could produce with British technology and India’s vast natural resources and skilled manpower. Britain was in no doubt about the significance of this new jewel in its crown.

  Its ultimate agenda for India was to structure the land as a great hub for generating immense revenues for centuries to come. Global events, of course, would at last put an end to this dream, but not before Britain had managed to siphon off a huge quantity of India’s treasures, ranging from jewels and rare works of art to the wealth produced by India’s inexhaustible pool of labour, minerals, ores and manufacturing skills, in addition to its trained military manpower and much else.

  British aims in the period following annexation of the Sikh state in 1849 lay clearly in sequestration of its wealth. There were various channels for the acquisition of precious objects. A huge array of priceless antiquities, gold, jewels, precious stones, paintings and sculptures, textiles, gold-decorated arms and armour was seized and shipped to Britain as spoils of war. A very large number of art treasures have remain unaccounted for, either going into the imperial treasury, joining the crown jewels or entering the vaults of a vast number of museums or becoming part of private collections – especially of those involved with ruling India.

  Thanks to the high value the British placed on meticulous paperwork, some valuable insights are provided by their Press Lists of Old Records in the Punjab Secretariat. In the ransacking of Sikh treasures the British were methodical as ever, not stopping at the revered relics of the Gurus, as this letter from the governor-general’s office dated 11 June 1851 shows: ‘Adverting to Government letter No. 2903, dated 18 December 1850, the Secretary to the Government of India requests that the golden chair and the arms of Guru Gobind be sent to the Government Toshakhana [the British treasury] at Simla proper precautions being taken for their safety on the road, and that a document certifying the arms and recording the facts or traditions established regarding them, be forwarded at the same time, in triplicate, signed by Misr Meg Raj, or whoever may be authority for the traditions.’60

  The governor-general made sure of a fair share for his sovereign. ‘The Secretary to the Government of India forwards a copy of the two lists of articles which the Governor-General recently selected for Her Majesty Queen Victoria and the Hon’ble Court of Directors from the arms and armour in the Toshakhana at Lahore, and conveys His Lordship’s request that the articles be carefully packed and transmitted by a
safe opportunity to Bombay, thence to be forwarded to the Court of Directors overland according to their orders. Also requests the Board to preserve in the Toshakhana the Muhammadan relics, the arms of the Guru, the golden chair, and the silver bungalow until orders are received regarding them from the Court of Directors.’61

  The loot of Sikh treasures was indulged in from the highest to the lowest levels of the occupying power, from the topmost officials and echelons of power to the soldiery. ‘Captain J.M. Drake, Officiating Deputy Judge Advocate-General, Lahore, requests to be furnished with information on certain points connected with the robberies committed in the Toshakhana at Lahore by European soldiers in July, November and December 1849.’62

  Barely two months after the annexation of the Punjab in 1849 Dr J.S. Login, officer in charge of the Public Establishment in Lahore, with a letter dated 24 May 1849 addressed to the secretary of the Board of Administration, Punjab, forwarded ‘a list of gold articles in the Toshakhana at Lahore’ and suggested that ‘as the state of the market is favourable, they might be sold off at once’. Came the reply: ‘the Secretary to the Board of Administration authorizes Dr Login to sell off the gold by instalments so as not to glut the market. [He] states that the gold coins called Boodkees might be expended in paying up establishments who would have to receive them at the market rates.’63

  While the above correspondence pertains to Ranjit Singh’s state treasury, the following letter dated 9 August 1850 is equally interesting, showing how little time was being wasted in taking over Ranjit Singh’s personal wealth. ‘The Secretary to the Board of Administration acknowledges the receipt of letter No. 1300, dated 19th July 1850, from the Secretary to the Government of India, and states that a list of jewels has been furnished to Government, but the Board will direct a further examination of them to discover such as are likely to be prized in Europe, and report the result for communication to the Most Noble the Governor-General; that they will also communicate with the Governor-General’s Agent at Benares regarding the jewels of the Maharani Chunda [Jindan]. Details of the manner in which it is proposed to dispose of the gold and silver in the Toshakhana, i.e., of the gold by sale at Lahore if a good price can be obtained for it, and of the silver by despatch to Bombay with the rupees of Native [Nanakshahi] currency now being collected for recoinage.’64