Book I, Chapter 2: Hardinge and Dalhousie

CHAPTER II

HARDINGE AND DALHOUSIE

It is not the purpose of the present work to narrate the history of wars and annexations. Nor are the wars and annexations of Auckland and Dalhousie, with all the bitter controversy to which they gave rise, an attractive subject to a writer who desires to confine his story to the condition of the people. But the economic history of India is incomplete without some reference to the enormous expenditure caused by wars, or to the extension of the Empire effected by annexations. We propose therefore, in this chapter, to narrate very briefly the leading incidents of the administration of Hardinge and Dalhousie, as we have narrated the leading acts of Auckland and Ellenborough in the last chapter.

When Lord Ellenborough was recalled from India in 1844, Sir Henry Hardinge was selected to succeed him, and a better selection could not have been made. Hardinge was a brave soldier, and, like many true soldiers, was a man of peace. He had taken a distinguished part in the Peninsular War against Napoleon’s forces, and had stood by Sir John Moore when he received his fatal wound in the field of Corunna. He had then taken a part in the hard-fought battle of Albuera, and had been wounded at Vittoria. He was present in the Waterloo campaign, and was in attendance on Marshal Blucher at the battle of Ligny, when his left hand was shattered by a round shot, and had to be amputated.

After the conclusion of the Napoleonic Wars, Hardinge entered Parliament, and retained his seat for over twenty years. He married the sister of Lord Castlereagh in 1821, and entered the Cabinet as Secretary at War, in succession to Lord Palmerston, in 1828. He remained a consistent Tory, and became Secretary at War once more in 1841, when Sir Robert Peel came back to power. And he held that appointment till 1844, when he was selected to succeed Lord Ellenborough in India in his sixtieth year. The appointment was no distinction for a Minister of his position and eminence; and Sir Robert Peel spoke the simple truth when he said, two years after, that in accepting the post of Governor-General of India, Sir Henry Hardinge had “made a great sacrifice from a sense of public duty.”

Scarcely eighteen months had elapsed from the date of his landing at Calcutta, when he was forced into a war which was not of his seeking. Ranjit Singh, the great ruler of the Punjab, died in 1839; and the magnificent Sikh army which he had created became uncontrollable when his restraining hand was withdrawn. Like the Pretorian Guards of ancient Rome they became masters of the situation; they formed Panchyets in every regiment and obeyed no other power; and they set up and deposed men in authority. Anarchy followed with frequent revolutions; and the brother of Ranjit Singh’s widow was tried and condemned by the military Panchyets, and shot by a party of soldiers. And in November 1845 the magnificent but misguided Sikh army, consisting of 60,000 soldiers, 40,000 armed followers, and 150 guns, crossed the Sutlej and invaded British India.

The commander of the Sikh army, Lal Singh, was a traitor, and probably wished the destruction of the army he led. In the first action with the British, at Moodkee, Lal Singh fled at the beginning of the battle, and so caused the defeat of his troops. The second battle, at Ferozshahar, was obstinately fought. British cannon, says an eye-witness, were dismounted, and the ammunition blown into the air; British squadrons were checked in mid career; battalion after battalion was hurled back with shattered ranks; and it was not till after sunset that portions of the Sikh position were finally carried.¹ The battle was renewed in the morning, but through the treachery or cowardice of Lal Singh his army was soon in full retreat. The third battle was won by the British at Aliwal; but the decisive contest which concluded the war was the battle of Sobreon, fought on February 10, 1846. The Sikh soldiers fought with the valour of crusaders and the determination of heroes. But Tej Singh, the Sikh commander, fled at the first assault, and is supposed to have broken the bridge over the Sutlej to prevent the escape of his army. The British victory was complete, but was dearly purchased by the loss of over two thousand troops, killed and wounded. The river, says Lord Hardinge’s son, who was present at the action, was alive with a struggling mass of men. The artillery, now brought down to the water’s edge, completed the slaughter. Few escaped; none surrendered. The Sikhs met their fate with that resignation which distinguished their race.²

The terms imposed on the conquered people proved the moderation of the conqueror. The Sikh kingdom must be dismembered so as not to be again a formidable enemy to the British Empire. But subject to this condition, Lord Hardinge (now raised to the peerage) respected the independence of the Punjab. By the treaty of March 1846 the Sikh Darbar abandoned the eastern portion of the Punjab between the Beas and the Sutlej, promised payment of a million and a half sterling or its equivalent in territory, undertook to reduce the army to twenty-five battalions of infantry and 12,000 cavalry, and surrendered all guns which had been pointed against the British army. The Sikh Darbar could not pay the stipulated sum, and a further cession of territory was therefore required. And Kashmir was thus separated from the Punjab, and made over the Golab Singh on payment of £750,000 to the British.

This treaty, concluded in March 1846, failed to safeguard the peace of the Punjab. The Sikh Darbar desired that the British troops should be maintained in Lahore to protect the Government. A second treaty of Lahore was accordingly concluded in December 1846. Ranjit Singh’s widow, an able but intriguing woman, was excluded from all power, and received an annual pension of £15,000. A Council of Regency, consisting of eight Sardars, was appointed during the minority of Maharaja Dhalip Singh. A British Resident was appointed with plenary and unlimited power to control and guide the Darbar. A British garrison was maintained in the Punjab during the minority of the sovereign. And it was stipulated that the British Government should receive £220,000 a year towards the expenses of the occupation.

Five days after the conclusion of this treaty, the Governor-General wrote to the Secret Committee: “These terms give the British Resident unlimited authority in all matters of internal administration and external relations during the Maharaja’s minority.”³ And in a General Proclamation which he issued on August 20, 1847, Lord Hardinge announced that he felt “the interest of a father in the education and guardianship of the young Prince.”⁴

Major Henry Lawrence, an officer as brave as he was kindly and courteous, was appointed the first Resident. It is possible to conceive that if Lord Hardinge had remained in India five years longer, and if Henry Lawrence had remained in his post for the same period, the Punjab would have remained a strong, friendly, and enlightened Native State. But Lord Hardinge was succeeded by Lord Dalhousie within six months from the date of the General Proclamation. And Major Henry Lawrence too was compelled to leave India on account of ill-health, and was succeeded by Sir Frederick Currie.

Lord Dalhousie was a young Scotch peer, and had succeeded to the earldom in 1838. When Sir Robert Peel came to power on the fall of the Melbourne Ministry, he appointed Lord Dalhousie Vice-President of the Board of Trade in 1843, under Gladstone, who was the President. And two years after, the young earl succeeded Gladstone as President. In this capacity Lord Dalhousie had to deal with the new railways; and it is significant that he laid before the Prime Minister a scheme for treating railways as a national concern, and for bringing them completely under State control. Sir Robert Peel rightly rejected the idea of a State management of railways for England. Lord John Russell was favourably impressed with the young and industrious nobleman. And when the Liberals came to power, Lord John had the magnanimity to offer to the Tory peer the post of Governor-General of India. Lord Dalhousie accepted the post, and at the early age of thirty-five succeeded the veteran Lord Hardinge in 1848.

Lord Hardinge had taken every possible precaution to secure peace and good administration in the Punjab. A British Resident had been invested with “full authority to direct and control the duties of every department.” A British force had been stationed at Lahore “for the protection of the Maharaja and the preservation of the peace of the country.” The British Government had power to occupy any fort or military post in the kingdom “for the security of the capital, and for maintaining the peace of the country.” The Lahore State was to pay to the British Government £220,000 a year “for the maintenance of this force, and to meet the expenses incurred by the British Government.” And these arrangements were to continue during the Maharaja’s minority, and to “cease and terminate on His Highness attaining the full age of 16 years, or on the 4th of September of the year 1854.”⁵

Maharaja Dhalip Singh was virtually the ward of the British Government; the British Government had undertaken to protect him, to control the administration of his country, and to preserve peace. And Lord Hardinge had taken adequate measures to fulfil the task imposed on the British Government. Fifty thousand men, with sixty guns, commanded the line of the Sutlej. A standing camp of nine thousand men held Lahore. Another standing camp of equal strength, with infantry, cavalry, and artillery complete, lay at Firozpur. Everything was in a state of perfect preparation to meet any contingency that might arise.

And yet no timely action was taken when trouble arose shortly after the departure of Hardinge. Dewan Mulraj’s father had governed Multan for thirty years with almost independent sway. When the British Resident called for an account of his stewardship from Mulraj, he made various delays, and pretended to resign. He was taken at his word, and a successor was sent to Multan under the protection of two Englishmen, Vans Agnew and Colonel Henderson. The fort was at first surrendered, but soon after Agnew and Henderson were treacherously murdered, and Mulraj regained and kept possession of the fort. The British Resident, Sir Frederick Currie, called on the Commander-in-chief, Lord Gough, to advance with a British force from Firozpur, and to stamp out the rebellion. But Lord Gough declined, and Lord Dalhousie supported the decision of Lord Gough. The rebellion was thus allowed time to spread.

One English officer did his duty promptly and well. Lieutenant Edwards was in his tent on the banks of the Indus when he heard of the murder of the English officers and of Mulraj’s rebellion. He made a rush with only 400 men to Multan, but he could effect little against Mulraj’s 4000 men and eight heavy guns defending the fort. All through the heat of the summer he did what it was possible for a British officer to do. He obtained levies from the State of Bhawalpur, defeated Mulraj in two battles in June and July, and drove him to the shelter of his fort. Had the higher authorities sent him aid from Lahore and Firozpur, as they were bound to do by the treaty of December 1846, the Multan rebellion would have been put down. And “had the Multan rebellion been put down,” says Lieutenant Edwards himself, “the Sikh insurrection would never have grown out of it.”

While no timely action was taken to put down the local rebellion, measures were adopted by the British Resident which created a general consternation among the Sikhs. Ranjit Singh’s widow, the mother of Maharaja Dhalip Singh, was an intriguing woman; but she had been excluded from all share in the government, and had been removed to Sheikhpur, and had ceased to be a source of danger. According to Lieutenant Edwards, “The Rani Jhanda, who had more wit and daring than any man of her nation, was weary of scattering ambiguous voices and of writing incendiary epistles. . . . There was no longer a man found in the Punjab who would shoulder a musket at her bidding.”⁶ Under these circumstances the Resident’s order to banish her from the Punjab to Benares was a measure of doubtful necessity, while its effect on the Sikh soldiery was instantaneous. “The reports from Raja Sher Singh’s camp,” wrote the Resident on May 25, “are that the Khalsa soldiery, on hearing of the removal of the Maharani, are much disturbed. They said she was the mother of the Khasla, and that as she was gone, and the young Dhalip Singh in our hands, they had no longer any one to fight for or uphold.”⁷

The postponement of the young Maharaja’s marriage was another measure which created an unfavourable impression. Lieutenant Edwards saw this, and wrote to the Resident on July 28: “An opinion had gone very prevalently abroad, and been carefully disseminated by the evil-disposed, that the British meditate declaring the Punjab forfeited by the recent troubles and misconduct of the troops. . . . It would, I think, be a wise and timely measure to give such public assurance of British good faith, and intention to adhere to the Treaty, as would be involved in authoritative preparations for providing the young Maharaja with a Queen. It would, no doubt, settle men’s minds greatly.”⁸ This wise counsel was unheeded.

Lastly, the treatment accorded to Sardar Chatra Singh, whose daughter the young Maharaja was to have married, further inflamed men’s minds. Chatra Singh was the Governor of the Hazara province, inhabited by an armed Mahomedan population, warlike and difficult to control. Captain Abbot, an assistant of the Resident, was appointed to aid and advise him, but he placed himself in open opposition to the Sardar from the commencement. In August 1848 the mountaineers of Hazara, roused by Captain Abbot, closed the passes and surrounded the town where Chatra Singh was residing. The Sardar ordered the troops, stationed for the protection of the town, to encamp under the guns of the fort. Colonel Canora refused to move out of the city, and threatened to fire upon the first man that came near. Chatra Singh sent two companies of the Sikh infantry to take possession of the guns. Canora applied the match to one of the guns, missed fire, and was immediately after struck down by musket shots from the infantry. Captain Abbot called this incident the murder of Canora by the instigation of Chatra Singh. He was justly rebuked by the Resident, who wrote: “I have given you no authority to raise levies and organise paid bands of soldiers. . . . It is much, I think, to be lamented that you have kept the Nizam [Chatra Singh] at a distance from you; have resisted his offers and suggestions to be allowed himself to reside near you. . . . None of the accounts which have yet been made justify you in calling the death of Commedan Canora a murder, nor in asserting that it was premeditated by Sardar Chatra Singh.”⁹ Nevertheless, orders were passed in August, not to punish Captain Abbot, but to deprive Sardar Chatra Singh of the post of Governor, to resume his Jaigir, and to humiliate before the Sikh people the man whose daughter was to have been wedded to their sovereign.

All these impolitic acts roused the Sikh nation, and the rebellion of Multan began to spread. Chatra Singh’s son, Sher Singh, went over to Mulraj with 5000 Sikhs, and the British force had to raise the siege of Multan. Nearly all the Sardars joined the insurrection, and the whole of the open country was in their hands.

In November 1848, seven months after the rising at Multan, Lord Gough at last moved out with his grand army. But at the first action at Ramnagar on the Chinab, he received a serious check; and the second action at Sadulapur was scarcely a victory. The third action at Chilianwala was disastrous. The British infantry proceeded to the attack when exhausted and breathless, and were compelled to make a retreat; the British cavalry, advancing without the support of guns, were similarly forced to a retreat which was soon converted into a flight; the colours of three regiments and four guns were captured by the Sikhs; and a total loss of 89 officers and 2350 men was the end of a hasty and ill-judged attack. Lord Dalhousie claimed this also as a victory in his public despatches, but in his private letter regretted “the lamentable succession of three unsuccessful actions” at Ramnagar, Sadulapur, and Chilianwala.

When the news of this last action was received in England, public indignation exceeded all bounds. Lord Gough was recalled, and Sir Charles Napier was appointed Commander-in-chief. Before his arrival, however, Lord Gough had retrieved his reputation by a decisive victory at Gujrat on February 20, 1849. Multan had already fallen into the hands of the British in January. The Sikh army, beaten at Gujrat, was pursued across the plains of the Punjab by Gilbert, “the best rider in India,” and surrendered at Rawal Pindi on March 12. Peace was restored within one year from the date of the first trouble at Multan.

By the treaty of December 1846 the British Government had undertaken to suppress risings in the Punjab, and to protect the minor Maharaja Dhalip Singh. By a proclamation, which was issued in November 1848 with Lord Dalhousie’s sanction, it was declared that the British army “entered the Lahore territories, not as an enemy of the constituted Government, but to restore order and obedience.” Nevertheless, as soon as order was restored, the constituted Government was set aside. The Maharaja was dethroned and the Punjab was annexed to the British dominions. Sir Henry Lawrence, the first Resident appointed after the treaty of December 1846, protested against the annexation, and tendered his resignation. But Lord Dalhousie knew his worth as a pacificator, and induced him to withdraw his resignation. Of this great and gifted soldier we shall have more to say when we speak of the administration of the Punjab.

Another war was undertaken by Lord Dalhousie, three years after, in the eastern frontiers of the Indian Empire. In Burma, in spite of the treaty of Yandobo, various sums of money were levied on foreign merchants, and trade with the Burmese was attended with risks and difficulties. Since 1840, therefore, the British Government had ceased to maintain an accredited agent at the Court of Ava. On September 27, 1851, British merchants at Rangoon made their complaints to the willing ears of Lord Dalhousie. The Governor-General sent a naval officer to inquire into the truth of the complaints; demanded compensation for the losses of merchants amounting to £900; and asked for the dismissal of the Burmese Governor of Rangoon. It was a repetition in Asia of the action taken by Lord Palmerston in the preceding year with reference to the losses of a Maltese Jew in Greece. Lord Dalhousie’s requisitions were not complied with, and he declared war. Rangoon, Prome, and Pegu were captured, and on December 20, 1852, Lord Dalhousie closed the war by a proclamation annexing Lower Burma to the British territories.

The history of the annexation of Indian States on failure of heirs, during the administration of Lord Dalhousie, is even more singular than the history of his conquests. The ancient laws of India provided that, on the failure of natural issue, a Hindu might adopt an heir to inherit his property; and there was no distinction in the eye of the law between a natural heir and an adopted son. During the five centuries of Mahomedan rule in Northern India, Mahomedan kings and emperors had never questioned the Hindu law of adoption. On the demise of a Hindu chief, his son, natural or adopted, took out a new Sunud from the ruling emperor, and stepped into his place. On the other hand, emperors bent on conquest annexed principalities without scruple, whether the chief was living or dead, whether his son was born of his loins or adopted. Under the British rule the practice of obtaining the sanction of the Government, when a Hindu chief adopted a son, was introduced. And when once this custom was recognised, the keen eye of the East India Company saw the possibility of extending their territories by refusing the sanction. Accordingly, the Court of Directors declared in 1834, that the indulgence of sanctioning the adoption of an heir should be the exception, not the rule. And the Government of India determined in 1841 “to persevere in the one clear and direct course of abandoning no just and honourable accession of territory or revenue.” It was reserved for Lord Dalhousie to carry out this “just and honourable” principle into practice. With the exception of one or two very insignificant States, previously annexed under circumstances of a special nature, the policy had never been carried into practice before Dalhousie’s time.

The first victim of this new policy was the House of Satara. The Rajah of Satara represented the family of the great Sivaji, the founder of the Mahratta power. The principality had been constituted by the Marquis of Hastings in 1818, when he annexed the Mahratta kingdom of the last Peshwa in the Deccan. A generation had passed since; and the last Raja of Satara had adopted a son, as he was entitled to do by the laws of his country and his race. On the death of the Raja in 1848, the Governor of Bombay, Sir George Clerk, recommended that the heir should be allowed to succeed to the State of Satara. His councillors opposed him; his successor differed from him; and Lord Dalhousie pursued the ungenerous course of annexing the State. The matter came up to the Court of Directors. The veteran Director, Henry St. George Tucker, whose name has appeared in the last chapter and will appear again in these pages, opposed the annexation. The issue, however, was never doubtful for a moment; by a large majority of votes the Court sanctioned the annexation.

The State of Karauli came up next for consideration. The Raja of Karauli died in the same year as the Raja of Satara, and, like him, had adopted an heir before his death. Lord Dalhousie could see no difference between Satara and Karauli, and held that Karauli also had “lapsed” to the British Government. The Court of Directors, however, decided that Karauli was a “protected ally,” and not a “dependent principality,” and the State was therefore not to be annexed. The grounds on which the Court of Directors differed from Lord Dalhousie are set forth in their letter of January 26, 1853.

“Colonel Low gave his opinion in favour of recognising the adoption and Sir Frederick Currie supported the proposal. The Governor-General, with whom Mr. Lowis expressed his concurrence, inclined rather to declaring the State a lapse to the British Government.

“The Governor-General has given a fair and impartial statement of the arguments on both sides of this important question. After having given the fullest consideration to the circumstances of the case, we have come to the decision that the succession of Bharat Pal to the Raj of Karauli, as the adopted son of Narsingh Pal, should be sanctioned.

“In coming to this conclusion we do not intend to depart from the principle laid down in our despatch of the 24th January 1849, relative to the case of Satara. . . . But it appears to us that there is a marked distinction in fact, between the cases of Satara and Karauli, which is not sufficiently adverted to in the minute of the Governor-General. The Satara State was one of recent origin, derived altogether from the creation and gift of the British Government, whilst Karauli is one of the oldest of the Rajput States, which has been under the rule of its princes from a period long anterior to the British power in India.”¹⁰

This letter of the Directors discloses the reasons of the Company’s moderation. Satara was an insignificant Mahratta state, and its annexation involved no political risk. Karauli was a Rajput State, and its annexation might alarm the whole of Rajputana. The Indian Reform Association, led by Mr. Dickinson, a true and disinterested friend of India, drew public attention to the impolicy of annexing Karauli. A motion by Mr. Blackett was threatened in the House of Commons; and the Government of the day avoided the scandal, and bade the Governor-General hold his hand.

The large State of Sambalpur in the Central Provinces was then annexed, as the Raja had died childless without adopting an heir. But a far more important and a historic case soon came up for consideration. The Raja of Jhansi, Gangadhar Rao, died in November 1853, after adopting a son who assumed the name of Damodar Gangadhar Rao. The dying Raja announced the adoption to the two British officers stationed at Jhansi, the political agent and the commander of a contingent of troops. He delivered to them letters to the proper authorities, and commended his widow and adopted son to the British Government. Lord Dalhousie held that “the adoption was good for the conveyance of private rights, though not for the transfer of the Principality,” and he annexed the State.

The State of Jhansi had rendered signal services to the British power in its earlier days. The Raja of Jhansi had saved Kalpi in 1825, and had been commended in the highest terms of praise and gratitude by Lord William Bentinck at the Darbar of 1832. He had appended to his titles the addition of Fidwee Badshah Janujah Englistan, “Devoted servant of the glorious King of England.”

After the annexation, the widow Rani made an appeal to the British Government, alluding to the loyalty of her house; and Major Malcolm, the political agent at Jhansi, supported her statement. “The Bai does not, I believe, in the slightest degree overestimate the fidelity and loyalty all along evinced by the State of Jhansi towards our Government under circumstances of considerable temptation, before our power had arrived at that commanding position which it has since attained.” And the widow herself was described by Major Malcolm as “a lady of very high character, and much respected by every one at Jhansi.”¹¹ But Lord Dalhousie was not moved from his fixed resolve either by the past history of the State or by the position and character of its present Rani.

The annexation converted the friendly and faithful State of Jhansi into a bitter enemy; and it converted a lady of high character into a merciless and vindictive woman. For the Rani of Jhansi fomented, helped, and joined the great mutiny of 1857; she permitted at Jhansi one of the worst of the Mutiny massacres; she fought in male attire against the British troops; and she fell sword in hand, the bravest fighter of her race. The Rani of Jhansi might have lived to be an able and benevolent administrator of her little State, like so many Hindu women who have figured in modern Indian history. But a more tragic fate was reserved for her; and she is remembered as the Joan of Arc of modern Indian romance.

Smaller States were annexed one after another; but the last and greatest annexation under the Doctrine of Lapse was the kingdom of Nagpur. Raghoji Bhonsla, Raja of Nagpur, died on December 11, 1853. One of his widows adopted a young kinsman, known under the title of Appa Sahib, and the adoption was valid under the Hindu law. The Political Resident, Mr. Mansel, adhered to the standing instructions of his office; he neither forbade nor gave special encouragement to the proceeding;¹² but he recommended that the adoption should be recognised. On January 28, 1854, Lord Dalhousie recorded his minute, annexing the large and populous kingdom.

The extensive and valuable cotton-producing country of Berar was taken over under a different plea. The Subsidiary Force kept up at the expense of the Nizam of Hyderabad had been excessive, and £750,000 were due from him as arrears. The Governor-General intimated that he would accept Berar, as well as the rich tract between the Krishna and the Tumbhadra, in payment of the debt, and as security for future charges for contingent force. When the draft treaty was presented to the Nizam he remonstrated in vain. He asked if an alliance which had lasted for sixty years would have such an ending, and he pleaded that to take away from him a third of his dominions would be to humiliate him in the eyes of his subjects. His expostulations were in vain; he signed the treaty, and died soon after.¹³

One more act of Lord Dalhousie remains to be narrated—the annexation of the kingdom of Oudh. The misgovernment of Oudh was the reason of this annexation, and no one who reads the official literature on the subject, and weighs the evidence of unimpeachable and even sympathetic witnesses like Sleeman and Outram, will question the misrule and disorder of Oudh. Yet this misgovernment could have been remedied. General Sir William Sleeman, Resident of Lucknow from 1840 to 1854, pressed upon the Government of India his scheme for reforming the administration of Oudh, and he staked his high reputation on the success of his measure. But annexation, not reform, was Lord Dalhousie’s idea; and he declared in one of his Consultative Minutes on the subject, that if the British Government undertook the responsibility, the labour, and risk of reforming a Native State, it ought to be allowed to appropriate the surplus revenue.¹⁴ It was this rage for annexation which kept Lord Dalhousie from adopting prompt remedies in many cases until the evil had grown, and until he could swoop down on the offending State and include it in the Company’s territory.

Lord Dalhousie placed three schemes with regard to Oudh before the Directors. He proposed that the King of Oudh should make over the province to the British Government for a limited period; or that he might be maintained in his royal state while the administration would be vested for ever in the Company; or that the State should be fully and formally annexed to the British dominions. A ruler like Bentinck would have adopted the first scheme; Lord Dalhousie himself advocated the second; the Court of Directors decided on the third. In their despatch of November 21, 1855, which has been characterised as “a specimen of the art of writing important instructions so as to avoid responsibility,” the Directors issued their orders for the annexation of Oudh. And they further wished that Lord Dalhousie himself should carry out the orders before laying down his office in India. Lord Dalhousie’s health had broken down after eight years’ continuous work in India. He was prematurely old at forty-three, was suffering from illness, and could scarcely walk. Nevertheless, he had promised to carry out the decision of the Court of Directors, and he redeemed his promise. The province of Oudh was annexed to the British territories by Proclamation on February 13, 1856. On that last day of the same month Lord Dalhousie resigned his office as Governor-General of India. “It is well,” he said to his physician, “that there are only twenty-nine days in this month; I could not have held out two days more.”

We have in the preceding pages briefly narrated the history of Lord Dalhousie’s conquests and annexations. During his administration of eight years he annexed eight large kingdoms or states, and the reasons assigned for these annexations were various. The Punjab was annexed because there was a rising in the country, such as the British Government itself had undertaken to quell in their treaty with the minor sovereign. Lower Burma was annexed on the complaints of British merchants trading in that country. Berar was taken over because the Nizam could not pay his debts. The kingdom of Oudh was annexed because of its misgovernment. Sambalpur was annexed because the last Raja left no heirs; and Satara, Jhansi, and Nagpur were annexed because Lord Dalhousie declined to recognise the heirs adopted by the rulers of those States.

Into the bitter controversies, of which these measures have formed the subject, it is not our purpose to enter. No impartial historian has defended Lord Dalhousie’s policy and action on the ground of justice. One of the most thoughtful writers of the Victorian Age condones the crimes of Dalhousie by comparing them with the crimes of Frederick the Great of Prussia.¹⁵ But this comparison is not altogether appropriate. Frederick’s wars were against equal foes, and his crimes were almost redeemed by his high purpose to give his own country a place amongst the great nations of Europe. Dalhousie struck those who could not long resist; and he descended to an untrue interpretation of an ancient law in order to add to the already vast empire and revenues of the East India Company.

Lord Dalhousie was the last of the old Imperialist school of rulers who believed that the salvation and progress of the Indian people were possible only by the destruction of their autonomy and self-government. Brief as were his years after he retired from India, he lived to see the opinion of that school discredited, the East India Company abolished, and the Doctrine of Lapse disavowed by his Sovereign and Queen. A more generous confidence in the progress of the people of India by their own endeavours marked the early years of the Queen’s direct rule. Within those years a Conservative Secretary of State, Sir Stafford Northcote, resolved to restore Mysore to Native rule; and another Conservative Secretary of State, Lord Salisbury, refused to annex Baroda on the ground of its misgovernment and crime. The restoration of Mysore to the old family, and the selection of a new and worthy ruler for Baroda, are amongst the wisest, as they are the most generous, political acts of British Ministers in relation to India. And no part of India is better governed to-day than these States, ruled by their own Princes.