On the 19th January, Lord Dalhousie landed at Chandpal Ghaut, in Calcutta, and took the oaths and his seat in Council, fifty years after Lord Wellesley, whose magnificent reign he was destined to rival, landed at the same stairs. He was in his thirty-sixth year, the youngest man who had ever assumed the government of India. He may be considered as the last of the proconsuls whom the Directors of the East India Company had for eighty-four years been accustomed to address as “our Governor-General;” his successor, though for some time under their control, became the viceroy of the Crown. Lord Dalhousie had sat in the House of Commons for several years before he succeeded to the family title. He had been President of the Board of Trade in Sir Robert Peel’s last cabinet, at a period when that department was inundated by a flood of railway projects, which taxed its energies beyond all former example; and, it was the extraordinary talent, industry, and aptitude for business which he exhibited under that pressure which recommended him to the highest post in the British empire – except the premiership. He assumed the management of India without any of that knowledge of the policy and the institutions of Government, the position of the native princes, or the character of the people, which Lord Wellesley, Lord Minto, Lord William Bentinck, and Lord Ellenborough had brought out with them, but his natural genius soon caught the spirit, and mastered the details of the Indian administration. The period of his rule, which extended to eight years, was filled with transactions of the most momentous character, which will long continue to affect the happiness
of the vast population of India. To present a clear and comprehensive retrospect of his administration, it may be useful to waive the chronological order of events, and to distribute them under the three divisions of, the military operations which were forced upon him, his procedure regarding the native princes, and his various plans for the welfare of the people and the prosperity of the country.
Within four months of his arrival, all those sanguine expectations which Lord Hardinge had bequeathed to him of a long reign of peace were rudely dissipated, and the note of war was again sounded across the Sutlege. Major – afterwards Sir Henry – Lawrence, a soldier and a statesman, to whom the task of sustaining British authority in the conquered, but unsubdued, kingdom of the Punjab had been committed, was constrained to visit England for his health, and he was succeeded, temporarily, by his brother, and then by Sir Frederick Currie, a member of the Supreme Council. Those who remembered the catastrophe of Cabul, saw, not without some misgivings, a civilian again placed in a position which required the experience and the influential counsels of a military man. He found no velvet cushion at Lahore. Scarcely had he entered upon his office than a small cloud no bigger than a man’s hand appeared on the horizon over Mooltan, which, in the course of six months, overspread the Punjab and brought on a conflict as arduous as that of 1845. Sawun Mull, who had been appointed dewan, or governor of Mooltan, by Runjeet Sing, was assassinated in 1844, after twenty years of power, and the administration passed into the hands of his son, Moolraj, whose subordination to the central authority of Lahore, was little more than nominal. But Lall Sing, the minister, knowing that a large treasure had been accumulated by Sawun Mull, at Mooltan, demanded a crore of rupees as a nuzeur, or succession fine, from his son, who was enabled eventually to effect a compromise for eighteen lacs. He took advantage, however, of the confusion which reigned in the Punjab, to withhold payment; but, on the establishment of a strong
government wider British auspices, an army was sent to coerce him, but he contrived to baffle it. He then applied for the interposition of Mr. Lawrence, and, under his safe conduct, proceeded to Lahore. After adjusting the fine, he offered to resign the government, on the double ground of family dissensions, and the new fiscal arrangements which were about to be introduced into the province, and which he affirmed would damage his income. On the arrival of Sir Frederick Currie at Lahore, Moolraj renewed his offer of resignation, without any other stipulation than that of saving his honour in the eyes of his people. It is difficult to believe that a native chieftain in the position of Moolraj, enjoying all but independent authority, seriously contemplated the surrender of his power, although he may have made the offer under a feeling of temporary irritation; and it would have been an act of wisdom and prudence not to put his professions to the proof. The durbar, however, chose to take him at his word, and in March directed Khan Sing to proceed to Mooltan, on a salary of 30,000 rupees a-year, and take over the government. Sir Frederick Currie selected Mr. Agnew, a civilian and a good oriental scholar, to accompany him, nominally, as the political agent, but in reality to assume the entire management of the country, and to introduce a new system of finance and revenue. For this proceeding he has been severely criticised, and it has been justly remarked that if he was not prepared at the time to support it by an overwhelming force against all the opposition it was certain to encounter, he should have postponed the mission until the usual season of operations in the cold weather. Mr. Agnew, in company with his assistant Lieutenant Anderson, and Khan Sing, with an escort of 350 Sikh troops and a few guns, reached Mooltan on the 18th April, and encamped at the Edgah, a fortified temple in the vicinity of the town.
On the morning of the 19th, Moolraj waited on the British officers, to discuss the terms on which the fort and the government were to be given up. He asked for a regular deed of acquittance on the production
of the papers of the previous year, but Mr. Agnew insisted on all the accounts of the previous six years. Moolraj naturally hesitated to produce documents which might compromise him by disclosing the secrets of his administration; and, though he yielded at length to the demand, he left the encampment with a scowl on his brow which boded no good. He felt that he had been injured and dishonoured before his own people. On the morning of the 20th, Mr. Agnew and Lieutenant Anderson proceeded with him to inspect the various establishments which he was about to resign; but, as they entered the fort, he requested them to dismiss a portion of their guard, to which they injudiciously acceded, although he refused, on some frivolous pretence, to diminish his own retinue. As they were returning from the fort and crossing the drawbridge, Mr. Agnew received a spear thrust under his arm, was thrown off his horse, and wounded in three places with a sword as he lay struggling with his assailant. Lieutenant Anderson was likewise suddenly surrounded and felled to the ground by assassins. Moolraj, who was riding side by side with Mr. Agnew at the time, immediately set spurs to his horse and rode off at full speed to his country residence, while the wounded officers were conveyed by their attendants to the Edgah. On the morning of the 20th, a brisk fire was opened upon it from the guns of the citadel, which was maintained throughout the day, and answered by the guns which had accompanied the party from Lahore. Mr. Agnew then despatched a letter appealing to the compassion of Moolraj, but he stated in reply that, although anxious to come to his assistance, he was restrained by the violence of his soldiery. He did not, however, refuse to allow them to fasten a war bracelet on his arm, and there could be no doubt of his complicity in this atrocious attempt to assassinate the British officers. Mr. Agnew and his companion were in hopes of being able to maintain their position until relief should arrive from Bunnoo or Bhawulpore, but their Sikh escort, which consisted of Goorkha soldiers, proved treacherous, and went
over in a body to the enemy, leaving them at the mercy of a crew of howling savages, who entered the mosque and completed the work of death. A misshapen monster of the name of Goojur Sing, rushed upon Mr. Agnew, loaded him with the foulest abuse, and severed his head from his body at the third stroke, while the ruffians hacked Lieutenant Anderson to pieces. Their bodies were dragged out amid brutish yells; their heads were presented to Moolraj, and then tossed among the mob, filled with gunpowder, and blown to atoms. The morning after the assassination, Moolraj transferred his family and his treasure to the fort, and, having placed himself at the head of the insurrectionary movement, issued a proclamation summoning all the inhabitants of the province, of every creed, to rise and wage a religious war with the Feringees.
The emergency for which the foresight of Lord Hardinge had made provision by his moveable brigades had now arisen; but there was no longer Sir Henry Lawrence at the head of affairs in the Punjab, or Lord Hardinge at the head of the Government. The Resident at Lahore was an amiable and intelligent civilian, the Governor-General was an able statesman, but young in years and new in authority. He was as yet but partially acquainted with those who held posts of importance in the Government, and was, moreover, without any of that military experience which enabled his predecessor to maintain, without presumption, a powerful control of our military movements. Had Sir Henry Lawrence been at Lahore, he would have moved the brigade upon Mooltan, with the same promptitude which he had exhibited in his march to Cashmere at the beginning of the winter, to crush Imam-ood-deen, and doubtless with the same success. Had Lord Hardinge been at the head of the Government, he would have taken upon himself to despatch the large force he had massed on the north-west frontier and collected at Bukkur, and invested Mooltan before Moolraj could make any adequate preparations for resistance. A march through Sinde and from Lahore in the month of May would doubtless have occasioned
many casualties, but our empire in India had been acquired and maintained, not by fair weather campaigns, but by taking the field on every emergency, and at any season. On the first news of the assault at Mooltan, Sir Frederick Currie ordered a large force of horse, foot, and artillery to prepare for a march; but on hearing, a day or two after, that the officers had been murdered and that their escort had deserted to the enemy, he countermanded the movement of the troops, and resolved to await the decision of the Commander-in-chief, on whom he pressed the necessity of prompt and energetic action. Lord Gough, however, considered the season of the year unfavourable for military operations, and determined to postpone them to the cold weather, when he should be prepared to take the field in person. Lord Dalhousie gave his concurrence to this decision. Sir Henry Lawrence aptly described this procrastination as “a resolution to have a grand shikar – hunt – in the cold season under his own lead.”
The Resident and the Commander-in-chief had scarcely ceased to bandy arguments, when Lieutenant – now Sir Herbert – Edwardes, a young officer employed in the revenue settlement of Bunnoo across the Indus, who was at the time known only by the productions of his pen which had recommended him to the notice of his superiors, brought the question of a military movement to an immediate issue. With the energy and military enterprise of Clive, but with greater moral courage, inasmuch as he assumed a heavier responsibility, he determined to take the initiative in crushing the revolt. Without waiting for orders from Lahore, he crossed the Indus with 1,200 infantry, 350 horsemen, and two guns, and took up a position at the town of Leiah; but a letter which he intercepted informed him that his men had agreed to sell his head for 12,000 rupees, and their own services for a similar sum; no dependence could therefore be placed on them. Moolraj was moving down to attack him, and he found it necessary to recross the river. His associate in this enterprise, Colonel Cortland, an officer in the
service of the durbar, had under his command a regiment of trustworthy Mohamedans and six guns, and the two officers made the most strenuous exertions to raise troops free from the infection of treachery – “bold villains ready to risk their own throats and to cut those of anyone else.” Colonel Cortland had been ordered by the Resident to move southward to aid in the collection of revenue, and he quitted Lieutenant Edwardes with 2,000 men. Moolraj immediately despatched a force of 6,000 men to attack him, when Lieutenant Edwardes moved down to his assistance, by land and by water, executing a march of fifty miles in twenty-four hours. The combined force was successful in repelling the assault, in occupying the whole of the Trans-Indus district, and in obtaining possession of all the boats on the river. Meanwhile, the Nabob of Bhawulpore, forty miles south of Mooltan, who had faithfully maintained his alliance with the Company since the visit of Captain Burnes in 1832, was requested by the Resident, at the instance of Lieutenant Edwardes, to advance with his army to the attack of Moolraj. Lieutenant Edwardes formed a junction with his troops on the 18th June at Kineyree, but found them in a state of complete disorganization, their helpless commander sitting under a tree counting his beads and muttering his prayers.
With great difficulty he established something like order in their ranks before they were attacked by Moolraj, who came down upon them with a body of 8,000 Sikhs and two guns. The action was fiercely contested for many hours, and the result was for a time doubtful, but at three in the afternoon the timely arrival of Colonel Cortland’s regiments with his guns decided the fortune of the day, and the Mooltan army fled in confusion from the field. After the victory, Lieutenant Edwardes importuned the Resident to reinforce him, and preparations were made for the despatch of an adequate force, but the Commander-in-chief again interposed his authority, because the season was not yet favourable, and the siege train to be drawn by bullocks had not as yet moved from Cawnpore. On the 28th June, Lieutenant
Edwardes was strengthened by the accession of 4,000 men, brought by Imam-ood-deen, who had returned to his allegiance, which raised his force, including the Bhawulpore contingent, to 18,000.
Moolraj, alarmed at the growing power of his opponents, advanced against them with his whole force, which had been in the meantime augmented by deserters to 11,000, supported by eleven guns, and met them at Sudoosain, in the neighbourhood of his capital. After a cannonade of several hours, a brilliant charge of one of Colonel Cortland’s regiments, led by an office clerk of the name of Quin, decided the action. The Mooltan troops recoiled from the assault, and fled. Moolraj was thrown from his elephant by a cannon ball, and, mounting a horse, joined the fugitives, and sought shelter within the walls of the city. The spirited efforts of the young lieutenant had thus, in the space of a few weeks, recovered the province and shut up the rebel in his citadel. “Now,” he wrote to the Resident, “is the time to strike; it is painful to see that I have got to the end of my tether.” He represented in strong terms the impolicy of condemning his raw levies to a state of inactivity for three or four months, exposed to the intrigues and allurements of Moolraj’s emissaries, while the fermentation in the Punjab was daily becoming more intense.
Sir Frederick Currie determined to lose no time in following up the successful exertions of Lieutenant Edwardes, and took upon himself the responsibility of ordering General Whish to prepare the moveable brigade for an immediate march to Mooltan. Lord Gough refrained from offering any opposition to the movement of this force, but wisely determined to double its strength and raise it to 7,000 men, of whom a third were Europeans, and to send thirty-four guns with it. Lord Dalhousie said that although his opinion of the proper period for action had undergone no change, he was anxious to maintain the authority of the Resident, and directed him, at all hazards, to carry out the policy he had resolved upon with vigour. Meanwhile,
Lieutenant Edwardes was joined by a Sikh force which the Lahore durbar had been permitted to despatch to Mooltan under Shere Sing, one of the most influential chiefs in the Punjab, ostensibly to co-operate against Moolraj, but in reality, as it subsequently appeared, to embrace every opportunity of supporting his rebellion. It was no secret at Lahore that both he and his troops were thoroughly disaffected, and the great object of the Resident, after they had proceeded on their march, was to prevent their being brought in contact with Moolraj and his bands. Shere Sing’s army was accordingly directed to halt within fifty miles of Mooltan, but, after the victory of the 1st July, he was permitted to continue his progress to that town. This was the cardinal error of the first period of the campaign, and it entailed the most disastrous results. Shere Sing did not hesitate to avow that his soldiers were incessantly urging him to join the revolt, and that if Lieutenant Edwardes had not been victorious at Sudoosain they would have gone over to Moolraj to a man. During the time they were encamped before Mooltan not a day passed without some desertions to the enemy, and the peril of the British commander was seriously augmented by the presence of these worse than doubtful allies.
The events which transpired at Lahore during these proceedings exposed the mine upon which we had been for some time sitting in the Punjab. The Maharanee, a woman of insatiable ambition and indefatigable intrigue, and animated with a spirit of bitter hostility to British ascendency, had been placed under restraint at a place called Shakoopoor, a few miles from Lahore, and her annual allowance of a lac and a-half of rupees had been reduced to 4,000. In May, 1848, a conspiracy to corrupt the troops at Lahore was discovered and traced to her machinations, and two of her agents were convicted and executed. The investigation conducted on this occasion disclosed the startling fact that she had been engaged for some time in a conspiracy against us, and that all the chiefs of the Lahore
durbar, with the exception of two, had agreed to co-operate with her for our expulsion. It was likewise asserted that Khan Sing, who accompanied Mr. Agnew to Mooltan, was himself deeply implicated in the plot, and had engaged to raise the province as soon as he had obtained possession of the citadel. She had extended her intrigues to Cabul, to Candahar, to Cashmere, to the Sikh protected states, and even to the princes of Rajpootana; and had endeavoured to organize a confederacy against British authority as ramified as that which Bajee Rao had projected thirty years before. The whole body of Sikh troops in the durbar army was ripe for revolt. There did not exist a chief or an officer who was not eager to shake off the yoke of the foreigners, and again to enshrine the national idol of Khalsa supremacy. There was not an inch of firm ground under our feet throughout the country of the five rivers. Sir Frederick considered that in these circumstances there could be no peace or security while the Maharanee continued in the Punjab, fomenting disaffection; and, by an unexpected and adroit movement, which anticipated all opposition, he caused her to be conveyed across the Sutlege and transferred to the care of the Resident at Benares, the warder of the dethroned princes and princesses of India.
The spirit of revolt now began openly to develop itself. Chutter Sing, the father of Shere Sing, who had been entrusted with the government of the province of Hazara, lying on the left bank of the Indus, exhibited unequivocal signs of disaffection, and caused Colonel Canora, one of Runjeet Sing’s old officers, to be put to death, because he refused to move his guns without the orders of the political agent. The Resident was slow to credit his treachery, and Jhunda Sing, who was supposed to possess more influence over him than any other man, was sent to endeavour to keep him to his allegiance. Jhunda, however, turned traitor himself, and joined the standard of Chutter Sing, who threw off the mask, and proceeded to attack Captain Nicholson, whom Major Lawrence had promptly sent down to hold Attok, the key
of the Indus. Throughout the month of August, Chutter Sing adjured his son Shere Sing to join the national revolt, but he continued to assure Lieutenant Edwardes of his unalterable fidelity, professed to show all the communications he had received from his father, and offered to take an oath of allegiance on the holy book.
General Whish’s brigades, consisting of about 7,000 men, with a battering train, started for Mooltan at the latter end of July, but, though the distance was only two hundred and twenty miles, and he enjoyed the unrivalled convenience of water carriage down the stream, the force was thirty-nine days in reaching its destination. This procrastination, combined with the open defection of Chutter Sing, enabled Moolraj to augment the strength of his army, and to improve the defences of the town and the fort, while it also inspired him with increased confidence. Strange to say, it was found that General Whish’s troops were more healthy during their progress to Mooltan than they had been in cantonments, and it was manifest that the unsuitableness of the season, which was urged as the ground of objection to an early and prompt movement, was a mere bugbear. The battering train at length reached Mooltan on the 3rd September, and the garrison was summoned to an unconditional surrender, not, however, in the name of the Maharajah, the actual sovereign of the Punjab, but in that of Her Majesty the Queen of England; and the Sikhs were thus led to the conclusion that we had already determined to confiscate the country. Mooltan, from its position on the Chenab and on the highway of commerce between Central Asia and Hindostan, was one of the most important towns in the Punjab. The fort was one of the strongest in India, erected on elevated ground, with walls substantially built of brick, about forty feet high, strengthened by thirty towers, and protected by a ditch twenty feet wide. It was garrisoned by about 2,000 men, and the town, which was likewise strongly fortified, by some 10,000 more. Moolraj had fifty-two guns at his
command. The first assault was made on the suburban outworks, which were defended with great resolution, and were not carried without the loss of 272 killed and wounded, of whom seventeen were officers. A good position was thus obtained for bombarding the town; but within eight days after the batteries had opened, all operations were at once brought to a close. Shere Sing yielded at length to the importunity of his father and the eagerness of his troops, and on the 14th September broke up his camp, ordered the “drum of religion” to strike up, and passed over to the enemy with 5,000 troops, two mortars and ten guns. After this defection, General Whish found it impossible to continue the siege, and accordingly abandoned the trenches the next day, and retired to 3 position in the vicinity of the town, well adapted for the reception of provisions by water. There he threw up entrenchments, awaiting the arrival of reinforcements, and was, in fact, besieged in his turn. Shere Sing immediately issued a proclamation “by direction of the holy Gooroo,” under the seals of nine of the chiefs in his army, announcing a religious war against the “cruel Feringees,” and calling upon all who eat the salt of the sovereign of the Khalsa, Duleep Sing, to join the standard of the raja Shere Sing and the dewan Moolraj, to cut off the posts, and to put every European to death.
The whole of the Punjab was now in a state of revolt, with the exception of the two Sikh forces at Peshawar and Bunnoo across the Indus, and they only waited for a fit opportunity to join their fellow countrymen. The chiefs who had received especial distinction and advantage from the British authorities were among the leaders of the rebellion. The veterans of Runjeet Sing’s army, scattered through the country, burned with impatience to meet the British battalions in the field, recover their lost honour, and restore the religious supremacy and the military glories of the Khalsa. The paltry outbreak of Moolraj, fostered by the folly of delay, had grown into a portentous war. Lord Dalhousie found that he had a great crisis to face, and the bravest soldiers in India, animated
by a patriotic enthusiasm, to encounter. The work which had taxed the utmost powers of his experienced and military predecessor was now to be done over again, and he showed himself fully equal to the emergency. In writing to the Secret Committee he stated that no other course was now open to us but to prosecute a general Punjab war with vigour, and ultimately to occupy the country with our troops. Preparations were accordingly made to take the field in earnest. An army was called up from Bombay to reinforce General Whish, and the Governor, Sir George Clerk, who had foreboded no good from the premature deputation of Mr. Agnew and Lieutenant Anderson to Mooltan, organized a force of 7,000 men to move into the Punjab. An addition of 17,000 men was made to the strength of the Bengal regiments, and the army destined for operations in the Punjab was ordered to assemble at Ferozepore. On the 10th October Lord Dalhousie proceeded towards the scene of operations; and, at a farewell entertainment given to him at Barrackpore, took occasion to say in the course of his speech, “Unwarned by precedent, uninfluenced by example, the Sikh nation has called for war, and on my word, Sirs, they shall have it with a vengeance.”
Shere Sing was received with great coldness and mistrust by Moolraj, who wished him to desert the English, but not to encumber Mooltan with his presence. His troops were not permitted to enter the town till they had taken an oath of fidelity to the rebel cause on the holy book, and even then were required to encamp under the guns of the fort, the gates of which were closed against them. Moolraj was especially apprehensive that Shere Sing would make a large demand of money, and hit upon the expedient of promising pay to his troops, on condition that he should go forth and engage in one good fight with General Whish; but this he thought fit to decline. He had objects of ambition of his own. His father had directed him to advance to Guzerat, which he selected as the rendezvous of the Sikh troops, little dreaming that it was destined soon after to be the grave of
their independence. He accordingly quitted Mooltan twenty-five days after his revolt, and on the 9th October marched towards the Ravee with an army of 5,000 men, swelled at every stage by the old soldiers of the Khalsa army, who daily flocked to his standard. He advanced up to Jung on the left bank of the Chenab, laying waste the country as he proceeded, and announcing his intention to attack the city of Lahore. He pushed one of his divisions up to a position only twenty miles distant from the capital, and had the audacity to burn a bridge of boats on the Ravee, the flames of which were visible from the battlements of the citadel. The spirit of enterprise which these movements exhibited astounded the Resident, and he became importunate with the Commander-in-chief for immediate reinforcements. The capital, he said, was hemmed in and menaced by the rebels, who were raising the country within twelve miles of it, and if an attack were made on the cantonments, it would be supported by a simultaneous rising in the city, which contained 30,000 swordsmen, and a population universally disaffected; the Government would thus be placed in a very critical and disgraceful position. Happily, Shere Sing was ignorant of the defenceless situation in which the capital had been unaccountably left for many weeks after he and his father were known to be in open rebellion with 15,000 gallant and enthusiastic Sikhs under their banners. Two regiments of infantry, together with one of cavalry, and some artillery were despatched from Ferozepore for the defence of Lahore, but they marched leisurely at the rate of eight miles a-day. Shere Sing, however, instead of attacking the city, marched westward to meet the Bunnoo troops, consisting of four regiments of infantry, one of cavalry, six troops of horse artillery and four guns, who had at length mutinied and murdered their officers. The Resident was relieved from his anxieties by the arrival of the Ferozepore brigade under Colonel Cureton, to whom the Commander-in-chief issued a positive and unqualified injunction to undertake no active measure whatever till he himself came up with the main army.
Chatter Sing, having raised the standard of rebellion, and, as he said, “devoted his head to God and his arms to the Khalsa,” opened negotiations with Cabul, and made Dost Mohamed the offer of the province of Peshawar, on condition of his joining the crusade against the English. The affiance, which was speedily completed, was one of the most singular compacts even in oriental history. The Dost had always considered the Sikhs the most inveterate enemies of his nation and his creed. Runjeet Sing had for twenty years been engaged in dismembering the Afghan monarchy, from which he had wrested the provinces of Cashmere, Mooltan, and Peshawar, as well as other territories on both sides the Indus. He had joined the British Government in the expedition to Cabul, which resulted in sending the Dost a houseless wanderer to Bokhara, and eventually a captive to Calcutta. The Dost had seen the mosques at Peshawar desecrated by the infidel Sikhs, and the Mohamedan population of the Punjab trampled underfoot by religious intolerance. It was a strong indication of the hopes which our procrastination had excited, that he who had beheld with his own eyes the magnitude of our resources, and witnessed the extinction of Runjeet Sing’s power, should bury in oblivion his animosity to the Sikhs, and join an incipient revolt directed against our supremacy. So elated was he with the prospect of revenge, that he not only promised to join the insurgents with his contingent, but addressed an impertinent letter to the British authorities, exulting in the acquisition of Peshawar, and offering his good offices to mediate between them and the Sikhs.
The province of Peshawar which Chutter Sing sold to the Afghans, was under the political charge of Sir George – then Major – Lawrence, one of the Lawrence brothers, and was garrisoned by a body of 8,000 Sikh troops, upon whose fidelity little reliance could be placed, now that the whole atmosphere was charged with treason. Chutter Sing never ceased to press them to join his standard, and it required all the tact of the Major, and the
great influence which he had acquired over them, to maintain his post in these desperate circumstances. He had repeatedly entreated that a brigade might be sent up to hold the province, but though a column was at one time warned for that service, it was speedily countermanded. The troops continued to resist the offers of Chutter Sing so steadily, that, in despair of success, he was about to march from the Indus to join his son, when his object was accomplished through the agency of Sultan Mohamed, the brother of Dost Mohamed, and the personification of Afghan perfidy. He was under peculiar obligations to Sir Henry Lawrence, who found him a prisoner at Lahore, and not only restored him to liberty, but reinstated him in his jageers at Peshawar. His gratitude was manifested by seducing the troops from their allegiance, and pressing them to assault the brother of his benefactor. Under his instigation they marched down to the Residency on the evening of the 24th October and attacked it with shot, shrapnel and grape. The Major and Lieutenant Bowie, with Mr. and Mrs. Thompson, quitted it under the escort of fifty Afghan horse, and the soldiers immediately rushed in and sacked it. On the morning of the attack, Sultan Mohamed had given the most solemn assurances of protection to the Major and his party, and offered to lead them in safety to his own town of Kohat. Soon after their arrival there, however, he sold them to Chutter Sing, who conducted them back as prisoners to Peshawar, where they were strictly guarded, but otherwise treated with great respect.
The grand army was at length assembled in the month of October at Ferozepore. It was weak in infantry, but strong in artillery. An entire division was waiting at Mooltan for the junction of the Bombay column to renew the siege; Brigadier Wheler was engaged in operations in the Jullunder; a considerable garrison was required for Lahore, and there was a reserve force under Sir Dudley Hill. Lord Gough had under his command four British and eleven native infantry regiments. Upwards of sixty field
guns were attached to the divisions of cavalry and infantry, and eight howitzers and ten eighteen pounders had been equipped with good forethought to be drawn by elephants and bullocks, and manoeuvred with the readiness of field artillery. The cavalry consisted of three noble regiments of British horse, backed by five regiments of light cavalry, and five complete corps of irregular horse under the command of the veteran Hearsey, the adjutant of Fitzgerald at the battle of Seetabuldee, thirty-one years before. Lord Gough took the command of the army early in November, and crossed the Ravee on the morning of the 16th, when the actual operations of the army may be said to have commenced – seven months after the murder of the two officers at Mooltan. Shere Sing, by moving to the northward, had compelled the British to operate on two lines. While they were combining their forces before Mooltan, they had at the same time to confront the insurrection in the superior delta of the five rivers, and for this double operation the force of infantry was manifestly feeble. Shere Sing, with about 15,000 Sikhs, had taken up a position at Ramnugur, on the Chenab, of which he occupied both banks. His main force was encamped on the right bank, protected by batteries mounting twenty-eight guns, and sufficiently covered from any fire that could be opened from the opposite bank. He had boats on the river and the command of a ford, and had ventured without much risk to push a detachment across. Lord Gough opened the campaign on the morning of the 22nd November by marching down to Ramnugur, while his heavy guns, his pontoon, and his engineer establishment were far in the rear. According to some of the best military authorities his movements should have been confined to a reconnaissance en force, and a feint attack, while his infantry and cavalry advanced to Wuzeerabad, thirty miles higher up on the great high road of the Punjab. There he might have established a bridge and awaited the arrival of his guns, and encountered Shere Sing to advantage, if, abandoning his entrenchments, he advanced against him. He resolved, however, to attack
at once the Sikh force on the left bank at Ramnugur, and drive it across the river.
After a slight skirmish, the fire of the light artillery, consisting of twelve guns, drove back the Sikhs, when Shere Sing opened an irresistible fire of shot and shell on the British force from his batteries planted upon the high ground on the other side of the river. The order was given to limber up and retire, but one gun and two waggons could not be extricated from the sand. Instead of spiking the gun and blowing up the waggons, valuable time was lost in endeavouring to extricate them. A formidable body of the enemy rushed over, but Captain Ouvry gallantly charged among them to cover the retreat of the artillery, though not without loss, as the broken ground had by this time been occupied by the enemy’s musketeers. The infantry was then marched down to the ridge which marked the height of the river during the rains, and from that elevation the strength of the Sikh position became fully visible. As the British cavalry and infantry retired, several thousand of the enemy’s horse crossed the ford towards the deserted gun, and their marksmen crowded over, while the battery of twenty-eight guns played incessantly on our receding force. Here the operations of the day should have terminated, as any further movement against such fearful odds would have been an act of infatuation; but it was committed. Colonel William Havelock, in command of the 14th Dragoons, one of the most gallant officers in the Queen’s service, who had earned laurels in the Peninsula and at Waterloo, rashly solicited permission to charge the Sikhs, and in an evil hour it would appear to have been granted by the Commander-in-chief. Supported by the 5th cavalry, he rushed forward and at once cleared the bank of the enemy; and then pursued them down into the sands. The guns from the opposite bank, as well as those which had been brought over in haste, to the number of eight, opened on the dragoons; their horses became exhausted and sunk deeper and deeper in the sand. Colonel Havelock was surrounded by the enemy and killed, but not
before he had felled three or four of his assailants. In this attack the gallant and experienced Colonel Cureton, who had raised himself to distinction from the ranks in which he had enlisted as a runaway lad, was lost to the army. The death of two such men would have been sufficient to mar congratulations on a victory, but that their lives should have been sacrificed in this idle and bootless skirmish, served to deepen the regrets of the army. The dry sandy bed of a large stream swept by the fire of twenty-eight guns was not the field for a cavalry action. It may here be incidentally noticed, that two days after the fight at Ramnugur, a paper was transmitted to Lord Dalhousie from Shere Sing’s camp, containing the Sikh justification of the revolt, which they rested on the elevation of the raja Golab Sing, a Rajpoot, the banishment of the Maharanee, the disregard of Sikh prejudices, the advancement of Mohamedans, and, above all, the slaughter of the cow.
Lord Gough, having withdrawn his troops after the action on the 22nd beyond the reach of Shere Sing’s batteries, awaited for a week the arrival of his heavy guns and his pontoon. Any attempt to assail the strong position of the Sikhs on the Chenab in front could only be the dictate of the wildest folly, and it was wisely determined to throw a strong division across the river higher up, and move down upon the left flank of their entrenchments, while the Commander-in-chief occupied their attention by a cannonade in front. Sir Joseph Thackwell, an officer who had acquired celebrity in the Peninsula, was nominated to the command of the turning force, which consisted of 8,000 horse, foot, and artillery, with thirty field pieces and two heavy guns. He marched an hour after midnight on the 1st December, and reached Wuzeerabad, twenty-four miles up the river, where, with the aid of boats collected by the activity of Captain Nicholson, a distinguished political officer, he crossed the Chenab by midday of the 2nd, and thus transferred the mastery of the river from the Sikhs to the British. After a
hasty meal, his force marched down twelve miles towards the enemy’s position. At midnight he received instructions from Lord Gough to make an attack on the flank of Shere Sing’s encampment in the morning, while the main army crossed over at Ramnugur to cooperate with his movements; but he had not proceeded more than six miles when another communication from head-quarters informed him that the army could not cross for want of boats, but that General Godby had been despatched with a brigade to cross the stream six miles higher up and unite with him. He was instructed to aid the movements of that brigade, but to suspend any attack on the Sikhs till it had joined him; and he accordingly despatched a native regiment to secure the ford. At two in the afternoon his men, who had tasted little food for forty-eight hours, were partaking of a light refreshment, when the rushing sound of round shot made them start to their feet and take to their arms. Shere Sing, on hearing of Sir Joseph’s movement, withdrew his army from its position at Ramnugur, and marched down to meet him, leaving Lord Gough to expend his powder and shot upon an empty encampment. Sir Joseph, who had proceeded to the ford in search of Brigadier Godby, hastened back on hearing of the attack of the Sikhs, and rectified his position by withdrawing his troops two hundred yards from fields of lofty sugar cane into clear ground. The Sikhs perceiving this movement, rushed forward with loud shouts of “the Feringees are flying.” The action took place at the village of Sadoolapore, where for two hours the British force sustained the incessant fire of the enemy without returning a shot till they were fully within range, when the artillery opened with deadly effect. During the engagement Sir Joseph received orders from Lord Gough to act according to his own discretion as to attacking the Sikhs without waiting for General Godby; but there remained only one short hour of daylight. By half past four the hostile cannon began to slacken, and it was evident that the Sikhs had failed in their attack, but Sir Joseph did not, deem it prudent to
advance upon them. His force consisted of only two brigades; a regiment was at the ford, and General Godby’s brigade had not joined him. The enemy were supposed to number 30,000, with forty pieces of cannon; they were strongly posted in a line of three villages, and if driven from them, might have retired on their camp, which could only have been stormed in darkness. With the example of Moodkee and Ferozeshuhur before him, Sir Joseph wisely determined not to precipitate his brave troops, broken down and wearied as they were, into a labyrinth of tents, waggons, and tumbrels, among exploding mines and expense magazines. At midnight the barking of dogs betrayed the movement of the Sikh army, and when the General put his army in motion to pursue them in the morning, he found that they were already beyond his reach. Under cover of the night, Shere Sing had removed all his guns and ammunition towards the Jhelum, “leaving not a goat behind.” The advantage of the action doubtless rested with him, for he had marched away at his own will and leisure to a better position, but Lord Gough thought fit to claim the victory, and in a magniloquent despatch announced that “it had pleased Almighty God to vouchsafe to the British arms the most successful issue to the extensive combinations rendered necessary to effect the passage of the Chenab and the defeat and dispersion of the Sikh force.” The community in India, spoiled by marvellously good fortune, impugned the military strategy which enabled the Sikh general to escape with all his cannon and with his army unscathed; men of sanguine temperament denounced his over caution, but this crude condemnation has been rectified by the cool judgment of professional criticism, and Sir Joseph’s merits have been fully appreciated, not less for saving his troops on the night of the 3rd December from unprofitable loss, and the British arms from the hazard of serious disaster, than for his successful passage of the river.
While the elements of rebellion were reeking throughout the Punjab and the Commander-in-chief
was waiting for the arrival of the cold weather, British interests in the various districts of the Punjab were maintained by the political officers with a degree of skill and energy which reflected the highest credit on the Company’s service. Mr. John Lawrence had been entrusted with the charge of the Jullunder dooab, the Sikh province beyond the Sutlege which Lord Hardinge had annexed to the British territories. A detachment of rebel Sikhs crossed the Ravee and laid siege to an important fortress. One raja broke out in the upper range of hills, and another followed his example in the lower range, and the whole province was on the point of being enveloped in the flames of revolt. Mr. Lawrence had now the first opportunity of exhibiting that spirit of enterprise, energy, and resolution which was developed on a larger scale in the Punjab nine years later during the Sepoy mutiny, and which eventually led him up to the highest seat in the empire. By the absence of the General, he and his assistants were left to act on their own discretion. He collected a force of hill men and of Sikhs, and boldly led them against their own countrymen, captured or dispersed the insurgents, and in the short period of thirteen days extinguished all opposition, and restored peace and order to the province. On the western frontier, along the line of the Indus, Captain Abbott, of Shiva celebrity, Captain Nicholson, Lieutenant Lumsden, and Lieutenant Taylor continued for many months to maintain their isolated and perilous positions with a chivalrous bearing in the midst of universal treachery. On the first suspicion of Chutter Sing’s disloyalty, Major Lawrence had wisely despatched Captain Nicholson to secure Attok; and that important post was subsequently held by Captain Herbert with a small body of Mohamedan troops. The fort was in so dilapidated a state that it could not have withstood a scientific and vigorous attack for six hours, but with a spirit of heroism which carries the mind back to the defence of Arcot, he maintained his post against the utmost efforts of the Sikhs for six weeks. Dost Mohamed at length made his appearance
on the Indus, and summoned all true believers to join his standard and take the field against the infidels. To ascertain the feelings of the garrison, Captain Herbert held a durbar, when his native officers and men frankly avowed that their families were in the power of the Dost, and that it would be dangerous for them to resist his commands. He found it necessary therefore to abandon the fort, and quitted it at midnight on a raft, but was seized as he passed down the river, and sent to join Major Lawrence in captivity at Peshawar. The reward which Captain Herbert received for his gallantry was what all officers most coveted, the commendation of Lord Dalhousie, who announced to India that he had maintained his position “with a settled firmness and a high-minded constancy.”
The Sikhs retired from Sadoolapore on the night of the 3rd December with their artillery, the chief ground of their confidence, still entire, the spirit of the troops still unbroken, and the audacity of the chieftains still buoyant. With that skill which distinguished the general officers among the Sikhs, Shere Sing took up a position of great strength on the Jhelum, with his rear resting on that river, his main body posted in ravines strengthened by field works, and his front covered, by a broad and dense belt of jungle. Throughout the month of December and the first half of January, the British army remained inactive between the Jhelum and the Chenab. This policy, which has been the subject of much censure, was in some measure owing to the restrictions imposed on the movements of the force by Lord Dalhousie, who had requested Lord Gough, after the battle of Sadoolapore, “on no consideration to advance beyond the Chenab except for the purpose of attacking Shere Sing in the position he then held, without further communication with him.” He had, in fact, injudiciously interfered with the military dispositions of the Commander-in-chief, on whom the responsibility of the campaign rested. To what extent Lord Hardinge had regulated and controlled the movements of the
army in the first Sikh war was well known, but he was a soldier, and a general of a far higher standard than the Commander-in-chief, whereas Lord Dalhousie was a young civilian with no military experience. It appears that he was not long perceiving the false position in which he had thus placed himself, and before the 22nd December informed Lord Gough that “if he could satisfy his own judgment regarding the state of his supplies, his supports and communications, and that the enemy might be attacked with such force as he may have safely disposable, and without heavy loss, he should be happy to see a blow struck that would destroy him, add honour to the British arms, and avert the prospect of a protracted and costly war.” Whatever responsibility may be attached to the inactivity of the force for three weeks after this date, rests with the military authorities. But, however injudicious may have been this act of interference on the part of the Governor-General, subsequent events gave reason to regret that it was not prolonged. Indeed, the whole plan of the campaign has been condemned by the judgment of the highest military authorities. In their opinion, Lord Gough would have exercised a wise discretion if he had remained in observation, on the left bank of the Chenab, regarding himself as covering the siege of Mooltan on the one hand, and Lahore on the other, holding Shere Sing in check, cutting off his supplies, watching his movements northward and southward, and preventing the despatch of a single soldier to the aid of Moolraj; and then, – as was ultimately done, – throwing the united British force with irresistible power on the Sikh army. This plan would have involved the inactivity of three months, and incurred the denunciations of the press, but it would have saved us the disasters of Ramnugur and Chillianwalla.
The army was reviewed at Lassoorie by Lord Gough on the 11th January, and advanced the next day to Dingee, a distance of twelve miles. The task before it was arduous. In conflicts with other races in India it had been the boast of the British troops that they
never cared to count their enemies, and were only anxious to prevent their escape. Bur the Sikhs were the boldest and most resolute foes who had ever tried the metal of the British soldier in the east, and on this occasion two weak infantry divisions were about to attack a Sikh force of 30,000 men, with a battery of sixty guns, in one of the strongest positions they had ever taken up, and on ground where our powerful cavalry had no room for manoeuvring. On the 13th, the army advanced with the intention of turning the enemy’s left at Russool, but a nearer approach showed it covered with so dense a jungle that Lord Gough wisely resolved to take up a position for the day, and reconnoitre it more perfectly on the morrow. In 1845, before a sword had been drawn, the British commanders had been warned by those best acquainted with the tactics of the Sikhs, that they were not to be dreaded as assailants, but that an entrenched position was defended by them with a degree of obstinacy hardly to be overcome by human efforts. The correctness of this observation was grievously exemplified at Ferozeshuhur and Sobraon. Hence it was always desirable so to manoeuvre as to oblige them to take the initiative, and on the present occasion this advantage had been fortuitously gained. On approaching Chillianwalla, it became evident that they had quitted their strong entrenchments on the heights of Russool, and marched down into the plain. A picket of Sikhs was driven in from a low bare hill, and the staff, on ascending it, obtained a distinct view of their line, covered indeed by a thick jungle, but ready to combat without the usual support of their bulwarks. Lord Gough had intended to defer the attack till a more careful reconnaissance had been effected, and had issued orders to mark out the ground for the encampment. This duty had already commenced, when a few shots from some field pieces the Sikhs had pushed forward, dropped near him. The spirit of defiance and antagonism at once overcame his better judgment, and, rejecting all advice and trampling on every remonstrance, he gave orders to prepare for immediate action. The Sikhs opened a continuous roar of fire from
a jungle so thick that nothing was offered as a mark for the British artillery but the flash and smoke of the hostile guns. This cannonade lasted an hour, or an hour and a half, according to different reports, and at three in the afternoon in the month of January, with only an hour or two of daylight left, undeterred by the example of Moodkee and Ferozeshuhur, where success was lost in the darkness, the divisions were ordered to advance.
The division of General Campbell, afterwards Lord Clyde, was the first to push forward. Of its two brigades, that commanded by Brigadier Hoggan, under the General’s personal superintendence, though fiercely opposed by heavy odds, won the ground in its front; but the brigade of Brigadier Pennycuick was destined to a fearful repulse. The 24th Foot, which formed a portion of it, advanced with an ardour that seemed to promise victory, but while yet at a distance from the enemy; broke into too rapid a pace, outstripped the native regiments, and rushed breathless and confused upon the enemy’s guns. It received a deadly shower of grape, and while shattered by its fatal effects, was torn to pieces by a musketry fire from Sikh troops, masked by a screen of jungle. The native regiments, when they came up, were unable to restore the battle. The whole brigade was thrown into confusion, and the most desperate efforts of the officers were of no avail to establish order. Brigadier Pennycuick was slain in the fore front of the fight; Colonel Brookes, commanding the 24th, fell among the guns. The Sikhs rushed forward with fury, sword in hand, and soon converted the rude repulse into incurable rout. The colours of the regiment fell into their hands, but not until twenty-three officers and 459 non-commissioned officers and men had been killed or wounded. Lord Gough, on receiving a report of this sanguinary check, ordered up the reserve under Brigadier Penny, but it took a wrong direction and missed its way in the forest. General Campbell, who had been victorious in his own front, observing the disaster, spiked the guns he had captured, and advancing
rapidly to the rescue, snatched the victory from the enemy, and captured the guns which had poured this deadly fire on the brigade. Sir Walter Gilbert’s division on the right was not checkered by disaster, but its advantages were not gained without heroic efforts and serious loss. His left brigade, led with rare gallantry, by Brigadier Mountain, carried the enemy’s position, and captured several pieces of ordnance. But the 56th Native Infantry lost its colours, and its gallant commander, Major Bamfield, received a mortal wound, and lay dying, side by side in the same hospital tent with his brave son, who had also been struck down. The other brigade consisting of the 2nd Europeans and two native regiments, and led by Brigadier Godby, was severely tested. The Europeans, attacked on numerous points, succeeded in putting the Sikhs to flight, but pursuit in a forest where they could not see twenty yards before them, was vain, and they halted to collect their wounded, when a sudden fire was opened on them by a body of Sikhs who had turned their flank unperceived, and they would have been inevitably overwhelmed but for the field battery of Major Dawes, of Jellalabad renown, who poured in a shower of grape on the enemy, as coolly as if he had been on parade. The struggle was terrific, and, to use the language of an eyewitness, it seemed as if the very air teemed with balls and bullets. The Sikhs fought like demons, but the Europeans succeeded in sweeping them from the ground and remained masters of the field.
The adventures of the cavalry were painful and humiliating. The attack on the Sikh position, which had never been reconnoitred, was in a parallel line. The several brigades of foot opposed to the enemy in front were outflanked by their more extended line. To protect the extreme flanks of the infantry, Lord Gough brought his cavalry into first line, and it was thus opposed to an unapproachable artillery fire and to entanglement in the recesses of the forest; but the actual mischief even exceeded what might have been anticipated from such defective
tactics. On the right flank, in prolongation of the infantry, were posted the 14th Dragoons, the 9th Lancers, and two native cavalry regiments. The troops of artillery attached to the brigade were planted in the rear and could not therefore open fire from a single gun. This strong cavalry brigade was entrusted to Brigadier Pope, who had been an active officer in his youth, but was now unable to mount his horse without assistance. He was, moreover, of a fanciful and irritable temper, and obstinately wedded to his old fashioned notions of cavalry manoeuvre. He advanced his four regiments formed in a single line and though the forest was dense, not a skirmisher was sent forward to explore the way, and no reserve or supporting column was provided against temporary reverse. As the line advanced, first at a walk and then at a trot, it was broken up by trees and clumps of brushwood into numerous series of small sections, doubled behind each other. In this state of things a small body of Sikh horse, intoxicated with drugs, rushed in a mass upon the centre, wounded the brigadier, and caused a sensation of terror among the native cavalry which it was found impossible to counteract. Just at this crisis, someone in the ranks of the 14th Dragoons, whose name has never been ascertained, uttered the words, “threes about.” The regiment at once turned to the rear and moved off in confusion, and, as the Sikh horse pressed on its track, galloped headlong in disgraceful panic through the cannon and waggons posted in its rear, notwithstanding the utmost efforts of its commander, Colonel King, and of the chaplain of the force, the Rev. Mr. Whiting, to rally the fugitives. The Sikh horse entered the ranks of the artillery along with the flying dragoons, and captured four guns; the disgrace of the brigade was irreparable. The success of the cavalry division on the left, commanded by Sir Joseph Thackwell, was marked by great gallantry. After a cannonade, in which the eighteen guns under Colonel Brind took an active share, a party of Sikh horse wound round its left and menaced the rear. Sir Joseph directed three squadrons
of the 5th native cavalry and a squadron of Greys under Captain Unett to charge the assailants, while he kept the rest of his brigade in reserve. The Sikh horse opened a heavy matchlock fire, and the native cavalry turned and fled; but Captain Unett with his dragoons forced his way through the Sikh ranks, nor halted in his impetuous career till he had reached the rear of the enemy, when, though severely wounded, he cut his way back to the brigade, and rejoined his applauding comrades, with the loss of forty-eight killed and wounded. The shades of evening put an end to the conflict. It was desirable to keep the ground which had been so hardly won, but it was hazardous to hold a position of which nothing was known. It was impossible to post pickets and guards in the darkness of the night. The troops were half dead with the fatigue of previous marching and manoeuvring, and an arduous combat. They were parched with thirst and called loudly for water, but none could be procured except from the distant wells of Chillianwalla. A night of heavy rain was impending, which would have inundated the field and completed the disorganization of the force. With great reluctance, but with a sense of imperious necessity, Lord Gough withdrew the force to Chillianwalla, where the troops snatched a broken and fitful repose. Meanwhile, parties of Sikh troops and of the armed peasantry of the surrounding villages, traversed the forest in which the combat had taken place, stripped, plundered, and mutilated the slain, and with atrocious barbarity murdered the wounded. On the following morning, when the cavalry moved over the field, they found that every gun captured in the fight had been carried off, with the exception of twelve, which had been brought into camp the night before.
Such was the battle of Chillianwalla, the most sanguinary, and the nearest approximation to a defeat, of any of the great conflicts of the British power in India. The Sikhs were driven from their position, but their army was not overthrown, and retired without interruption to another position, three miles from the field. Twelve of their guns
remained in our possession, but four guns of the Horse Artillery were captured by them The colours of three regiments were lost in the battle, and the price paid by us for our doubtful victory was the loss of 2,357 fighting men and 89 officers killed and wounded. The moral results of the action were dismal; the character of the Sikhs for prowess was greatly elevated, the reputation of British cavalry was deplorably tarnished. The highest authority in India was constrained to pronounce it a victory, which was announced by salutes from every battery throughout the three Presidencies. But in this note of triumph we were anticipated by Shore Sing, who fired a salute the same evening in honour of what he considered his triumph, and another three days after to celebrate the arrival of his father with large reinforcements.
While Chillianwalla was officially registered as a victory, it was regarded by the community in India of all ranks, from the highest to the lowest, as a great calamity. The public did not cease to admire the private virtues, the quick perception, the indomitable energy, and the chivalrous valour of the Commander-in-chief, which rendered him the idol of the soldiery; but there was, nevertheless, a painful conviction that nature had not designed, or education and experience fitted him, for extensive and independent command. In England, the intelligence of this combat excited feelings of alarm and indignation. British cannon had been captured; British standards had been lost; British cavalry had fled before the enemy; a British regiment had been nearly annihilated; and the confidence of the native troops in our skill and good fortune had been rudely shaken. These disasters were traced to the defect of our military tactics. The India House was filled with alarms, which were shared by the Duke of Wellington. It was well known that while he had applauded the gallantry of the troops engaged at Maharajpore, he had freely criticised the manoeuvres of the General. The Court of Directors and the Ministry were now of one mind as to the necessity of an immediate change in
the command. Sir Charles Napier was accordingly solicited by the Duke to proceed to India as Commander-in-chief, and he left England within three days.
The supercession which had previously impended was now inflicted on Lord Gough, and he was made to taste the bitterness of recall; but before the arrival of his successor, the brilliant victory of Guzerat had turned the Punjab into a British province.
This collection transcribed by Chris Gage