CHAPTER VIII.
MAHARAJA RANJIT SINGH.
There was still much land to be possessed, Pathan governors to be expelled, and independent Sikh misls to be subdued, before the young Maharaja became absolute master of the Punjab. Fortified by prestige, the belief of others in him, he proceeded by force and craft to effect this. One by one all fell under his absorbing sway. Equality among the sardars was a fundamental law of the Khalsa, but was now observed much as other laws enacting equality have ever been. The hour had come and with it the man, when it became necessary to establish a central authority for the organised unity of the State. The copartnery system had served its purpose while it was the policy to oppose the Mahomedan everywhere in the land, whether Moghul, Persian, or Afghan—the policy of a struggle for life; but the sardars, long accustomed to independent action, ill-brooked the change to Ranjit Singh's policy of a struggle for one-man power, and often in durbar an old chief would address him as "brother" and speak out his mind regarding the new order of Khalsa affairs. The Sikhs soon found in their Maharaja a master who could unite them, and under whom they grew into a coherent nation stretching from the Sutlej to the Khaibar, from Multan to Kashmir. Not till he had proved his superiority over the numerous chieftains, who with their feudal followers formed the force of the Khalsa, did the Sikhs rise to that political and military prominence in which we found them in 1838, when the tripartite alliance was made, which led to the first Afghan war, for the restoration of the Durrani kingdom of Kabul in the person of Shah Suja, who, with his brother Shah Zaman, from whom Ranjit Singh wrested the Punjab, had by an ironical stroke of fate been driven out of Afghanistan to take refuge in the country which the Durranis had so often subdued. In the execution of his policy to abolish feudal tenures he not only annexed the possessions of actively hostile rivals, but exacted death duties on every occasion of a sardar dying, leaving only small estates for their families, sweeping the rest into his treasury. He created his own army, giving rank and commands to his partisans, and where any chiefs were left with territory and power instituted "man-rent" in the form of contingents of irregular troops at his disposal for service.
In 1803 the British captured Delhi from the Mahrattas, the one strong native power then left in India. Those who still kept the field were followed up by Lord Lake, who defeated them wherever they stood. He pursued Holkar, their chief, who fled to the Punjab with the remnants of his once powerful and numerous army in the hope of finding an ally in the Sikhs. In alarm at finding the Mahrattas and British in their midst, a "Guru Mata," or National Council of the Khalsa, was held at Amritsar for the last time. They decided to stand aloof, and Ranjit Singh acted as mediator. The Mahrattas sued for peace from the victorious Lake, renounced all their possessions and claims in Northern India, and the Sikhs agreed to have no further concern with them. What Ranjit Singh heard then from the Mahrattas, and what he saw of the disciplined strength of the British army, made a deep impression on him. He determined then and there to be at peace with the dreaded advancing Power. He knew his own weakness. He had yet to give complete unity to the scattered Sikh elements, so he proposed to Lord Lake, in order to maintain friendly relations, that the Sutlej river should be the boundary between Sikh and Briton; but as the British Government had inaugurated a strict policy of non-interference north of Delhi, nothing then came of this.
In 1806 Ranjit Singh crossed the river with a large force to assert his power among the Malwa Sikhs, as those in the Cis-Sutlej states are called, on which the British strengthened their frontier post north of Delhi. Again in 1807 and 1808 he crossed in force, levying tribute as King of all the Sikhs. The Patiala and other chiefs were alarmed. They saw they must either submit to Ranjit Singh or seek the protection of the British. They unanimously declined to accept him as their overlord and threw themselves on the protection of the British, saying that they had always been more or less under the wing of whoever was master of Delhi. The policy of non-interference—of masterly inactivity—had now undergone a change. An English envoy was sent to Lahore armed with an ultimatum, to negotiate a treaty on the condition of the independence of the Malwa Sikhs, and the Sutlej as the boundary of the Maharaja's dominion, British troops at the same time advancing to that river. By right of conquest the British inherited the power formerly exercised by the Malirattas in this region when in possession of Delhi. Ranjit Singh, seeing that the British were in earnest, prudently concluded a treaty, agreeing to withdraw his claims over the Cis-Sutlej states and to recognise the river as the eastern boundary of his kingdom. He feared that other independent chiefs in the Punjab might claim British protection and defeat his cherished plan of kingship. Thus was preserved the independence of the Sikh states, called the Phulkian, which exists at the present day.
The Phulkian misl, one of the most powerful of the original twelve Sikh confederacies, comprises the states of Patiala, Jhind, and Nabha. The founder was one Phul, a Jat of ancient lineage connected with Jesulmeer in the Rajputana desert, colonised by Jats who in the eleventh century migrated there from Multan, extending to Sirhind, about the same time that others of the tribe established themselves on the Jumna below Delhi, carving out the present Jat principalities of Bhurtpore and Dholpore. Phul built a village in 1640, calling it after his name. The Delhi emperor patronised him. He embraced the Sikh religion, and his seven sons became the ancestors of the reigning families of Patiala, Jhind, and Nabha. Other minor families sprang from them, all attaining to wealth and power. The chief of Patiala took the lead, and his successes over the Pathans and Rajputs brought many Sikhs from over the Sutlej to his banner. Ahmad Shah of Kabul, the conqueror of Delhi, to whom the Punjab was ceded by the Moghuls, made him Governor of Sirhind, with the title of Raja, later on investing his son with the insignia of an independent prince. Often the State was under the influence of women of courage, wisdom, and activity, who fought in person at the head of their troops. One of these Ranis in the field against the Mahrattas turned the fortune of the day by personal valour, drawing her sword and addressing her soldiers: "I have resolved not to retreat. It would be a shame for the Sikh nation if at this moment they left a woman, the sister of their sovereign, to be slain by their enemies." The British Government, by throwing its mantle over these states in 1809, saved them from the rapacity and absorbing power of Ranjit Singh; and they have ever since proved their gratitude by conspicuous attachment to their suzerain, markedly so in the darkest days of the great military revolt in 1857.
Though the Maharaja felt this check to his ambition, he soon brought his mind to see the great advantage which this treaty secured him. The Sutlej was a well-marked geographical as well as political frontier. He fully trusted the British. He knew he was safe in that quarter, so was now free to direct his whole force in other directions where he had yet many enemies to overcome, and to pursue his policy of reducing to subjection all sardars and Mahomedan chiefs within his kingdom having any pretensions to independence and power. Soon all the Sikh confederacies were swept away except the Ahluwalia, now represented by the Raja of Kapurthalla, who had gained the interest of the British Government by services rendered at the time Lord Lake drove the Mahrattas into the Punjab.
When the English envoy was at Amritsar in 1809 negotiating the treaty, his small military escort was attacked by a large body of the fanatical Akali Sikhs, who were completely routed by the few disciplined redcoats. Ranjit Singh witnessed this, apologised for the outrage, complimented the envoy on the bravery of his soldiers, and expressed his admiration of their steadiness. He realised the effect of their discipline as absolutely decisive against the courage and numbers of his own fiercest soldiers devoid of organisation. It was an object-lesson to him which decided him to train his army according to European methods. He commenced by means of some deserters from the Indian army to drill his men, and formed a few battalions of Sikhs, Hindostanis, and Gurkhas after the British model, adopting the red coat. The turbulent Sikhs at first resented the new order of things. He had great difficulty in inducing them to abandon their old weapons and mode of fighting, but with tact and patience won them over by good pay and rations, and by personal example in shouldering the musket himself, wearing the red coat, and drilling in the ranks under the instructors.
The Honourable Mountstuart Elphinstone, when returning in 1810 from a mission to the Durrani King of Afghanistan, gives an account of his first meeting with a detachment of Sikh soldiers of that day guarding the Indus frontier. Contrasted with the Afghan Court and army he found them very Goths in manners and habits, loud talking, boisterous, and addicted to drinking-bouts. They were tall and muscular, wild-looking, with uncut beards and long hair, legs bare up to the thighs, wearing loose scarves thrown over one shoulder, armed with sword and shield, matchlock, spear, and also the bow and arrows of their forefathers, with which they were expert. Chiefs and men all sat down together to eat and drink on a footing of equality. They obeyed instructions, but there was little order. They were merely unruly guerillas.
Like other Indian princes who succeeded in raising their armies to any degree of efficiency, Ranjit Singh appreciated the value of European officers. In 1822 two French colonels arrived at Lahore by way of Persia in search of military employment, asking if they could render any service by their "knowledge of the art of war acquired as superior officers under the immediate command of the great Napoleon Bonaparte, Sovereign of France." They were told to write out their application in French, and this was sent to the English political officer at the frontier for translation. The Maharaja was satisfied, and took them into his service as generals. Two others followed who had also served in the Napoleonic wars, and were given the same rank. Eventually about twenty foreign officers of various nationalities were employed in the Sikh army, some of whom were now and then placed in charge of districts as governors. With their aid he put into execution his cherished design to convert his horde of horsemen into a trained regular army, and established arsenals for the manufacture of cannon, small-arms, ammunition, and military stores.
These European officers were handsomely paid, and enjoyed the confidence of the Maharaja, but were never consulted in affairs of State. The ablest and most important among them were the four French officers who first arrived—Generals Ventura, Allard, Court, and Avitabile. They held the commands of the strong trained divisions of infantry, artillery, and cavalry, the first in rank, equipment, and discipline, forming the old guard of the army on which Ranjit Singh relied for success. All were dismissed after his death during the anarchy which then prevailed, the sardars being jealous of their influence among the troops. Dr Wolff, the Eastern traveller, gives an amusing account of meeting one of these foreigners in Sikh employ. Arriving late one night at the town of Gujrat, he was taken to the governor's house, when to his surprise he heard some one singing "Yankee Doodle" with the true American tone. It was the governor himself! Wolff asked him how he came to know this pleasant song, and received the reply, "I am a free citizen of the United States, from the State of Pennsylvania, city of Philadelphia, I am the son of a Quaker. My name is Josiah Harlan." When roving in the Afghan border, he was captured by the Sikhs. Ranjit Singh, appreciating his talents, told him, "I will make you Governor of Gujrat, and give you 3000 rupees a-month. If you behave well I will increase your salary; if not, I will cut off your nose."
Enlistment in the trained Sikh army was quite voluntary, and once the objection to the changes introduced was overcome, the service was very popular, the men being picked from large numbers of candidates, which rendered the army capable of expansion in an emergency. He also incorporated in the ranks his various subjects, Dogra Rajputs and Punjabi Mahomedans. Opposing elements were useful to him on occasions. The pay was good, higher than in the Indian army, but no pensions were given. Special attention was paid to the training of infantry and artillery as the principal arms for pitched battles. Except in head- and foot-gear they were dressed and accoutred like the British, in red and blue, with regimental facings to distinguish corps. The organised cavalry, under a French general, were trained and uniformed as cuirassiers and dragoons à la Français. In addition there was a large force of light troops in the form of irregular cavalry and infantry which certain chiefs had to furnish on requisition, all armed after their own fashion, the cavalry wearing chain-armour and steel helmets, round which they wound turbans—the helmets similar to those worn by the Parthians who overwhelmed the legions of Crassus, and by the soldiers of Saladin and Tymur.
Ranjit Singh's reign was one long campaign in consolidating his power. By 1831, after repeated attempts, he had at last brought into subjection the Mahomedan provinces of Multan, Kashmir, and Peshawar, the Rajput hill states, and all other independent chiefs. His supremacy extended to the foothills beyond the Indus, to Ladakh in Thibet beyond Kashmir, and to the snowy Himalayas in the north.
Shah Suja, the last of the Durrani dynasty, was driven out of Afghanistan in 1822, and the country was divided among the Barakzai chiefs (the present ruling house in 
MAHARAJA RANJIT SINGH REVIEWING HIS ARMY.
Kabul), one of whom held Peshawar as a vassal of the Sikhs, while his brother, Amir Dost Mahomed, ruled Kabul—he who played such an important part against the British in the first Afghan war. He plotted to recover Peshawar. This decided Ranjit Singh in 1834 regularly to annex it. He met the Afghans under the Amir and forced them to retreat. When hotly pushing on to retrieve a check to his advanced troops, he boldly at much loss forded the Indus at the head of 15,000 cavalry, crossing his light guns on elephants, and swept through the valley. Another and last attempt was made in 1837 by the Afghans, led by the Amir, to recover Peshawar, when again they were defeated and retreated precipitately. Fierce and sanguinary were the struggles for the possession of the northern gate into the Punjab. There the Sikhs decisively overcame the Pathans in a deadly tug of war, and also stemmed the tide of Wahabi invasion so fraught with danger to India.
The occupation of Peshawar was Ranjit Singh's last campaign; it effectually sealed the solidarity of his power. There was now nothing more left in the Punjab for him to conquer, and he longed to extend his sway over the rich lands of Sindh south of Multan, for he was a conqueror at heart, animated to the end of his life with all the energy and fire of his early days of power. Being checkmated in this design by the British, he quietly controlled the hostile element at his Court, which urged him to action. On one of his sons, impelled by the war party, at a great parade imploring his father to let him lead the army against the English, the reply was, "No, my son; remember the two hundred thousand Mahratta spearmen who opposed the English; not one remains." Some of the old Sikh sardars, whose blood never ran cool enough for diplomacy, were very free now and then in expressing their ideas regarding his policy. A few years before, when the Jats of Bhurtpore, besieged by a British force, begged for his aid, which he refused, they, to mark their opinion of his conduct in not responding to the call of his kindred race, sent him a woman's garments; but it had no effect in his decision to abide by his treaty not to cross the Sutlej. His opinion of them was that although they were capable as generals they were incapable as "men of affairs." When the first Afghan war was decided on to eject Dost Mahomed and restore the Durrani kingdom, he joined in the alliance with the British against the wish of his sardars, who advocated independent Sikh action beyond Peshawar, but he adhered to his decision and faithfully performed his part.
He died in 1839, while the British army was in Afghanistan, but his policy was maintained by his sons to the close of the war, true to their father's trust. He never wavered in his loyalty to the treaty made by him in 1809 at a critical time in the history of the Sikh nation. From the first when he met the British, although he had Holkar and the Mahrattas as refugees supplicating an alliance, and all Hindostan was in a blaze, he formed a clear conception of English strength and resources, and acquired a great respect for their character. Though a man of immense ambition, he was gifted with a far-sightedness that few Indian rulers have possessed, and one of the main lines of his policy was to keep his word with the British and avoid under all circumstances collision with them. To his death he remained with them on terms of implicit confidence and the utmost friendliness, and never ceased to impress on all around him to maintain this as they valued their independence; but that he had doubts in his mind as to what the future might bring was shown when, a short time before his death, on looking at a map of India, he asked why so much of it was coloured red, and being told it marked British territory, he said with a sigh, "It will soon be all red."
The only time when he ever apparently showed any doubt of the good faith of the British was, as related by the French General Allard, on the occasion of his going to meet the Governor-General of India in 1831 on the banks of the Sutlej, a meeting which he desired politically in order to strengthen his status. Some of his sardars were very averse to this, fearing kidnapping, which as a recognised method of political action was not unknown among the Sikhs as well as in other countries in olden times. He however proceeded in state with a large force, encamping on his side of the river, the British camp being on the other. The night before he was to cross over to the British camp he suddenly changed his mind, having been again warned that he would act unwisely in leaving his own territory to meet the English on their ground; that it would be safer to have the meeting at Amritsar, or to postpone it altogether. He sent for his French General Allard to inform him that he would not attend the meeting next morning. Allard argued with him to allay his apprehensions, and offered to stake his head that nothing unpleasant would happen. The Court astrologers were summoned; after consulting their mystic books they declared that the British were his sincere friends, and that the meeting would lead to more valuable friendship between the two States, but they also advised him to hold an apple in each hand, and on meeting the Governor-General to offer him one of these, keeping the other himself. If it was accepted the meeting would be favourable, and the visit could be carried out without the least fear. The next morning, when he crossed mounted on an elephant surrounded by his sardars and escort of Allard's dragoons, on meeting Lord George Bentinck he presented the apple to him, which was at once accepted. Delighted at this good omen, he stepped from his howdah into that of the Governor-General and proceeded to the audience tent, vivacious and charming every one by his manners, full of inquiry about all he saw. It may be that this little comedy of nervous fear was played by the clever Maharaja to show his suspicious sardars how ignorant they were to judge of his English friends by themselves.
Seven years later, in 1838, he again went to meet the Governor-General at Ferozepore, where the British army was assembled prior to the invasion of Afghanistan. There was no opposition then from his sardars. On this occasion Lord Auckland in state made a return visit to the Maharaja at Amritsar, being received with great honour and cordiality. With his staff he accompanied his royal host to the sacred Golden Temple, where they sat side by side listening to an oration by the priest to the effect that the two potentates were brothers and friends, and never could be otherwise. He took his own line, determined to show how complete his confidence was, and, to the amazement of his ministers and sardars, and against their wishes, conducted his English friends over the fort of Govindgurh, kept carefully guarded and only opened to his personal order, where his treasures were stored, allowing all the officers of the British escort, and even the engineers, to inspect it. His people then said that they now saw Sikhs and Englishmen were "to be all of one family and to live in the same house." Afterwards at an evening entertainment he took up a yellow-red apple, remarking on its colours, the yellow the favourite colour of the Sikhs and the red that of England, blended together as a symbol of the alliance of the two kingdoms,—a fruit pleasant to look upon and solid to the core. The treaty of perpetual friendship was then renewed.
Ranjit Singh was a unique personality among the rude Jats of those times. Deficient in the physical characteristics that win respect from barbarians, yet by his personal bravery, ability, and address he drew all around him to his wishes. He knew when to execute, when to yield, and how to contract his measures. With a clear conception of the object in view, when it became necessary to secure it by force lie ruthlessly employed every means to gain it, always "grasping his nettles." As a soldier, though he sacrificed his men with prodigality to win the day, yet he was carefully economical of their lives. They were devotedly attached to him, all feeling under his command the exhilarating effects of confident success. Generous to the vanquished, it never being his policy to reduce any one to desperation, there seems to have been no sentimental manifestations in his politics, as he would not allow to remain any remnants of hostile power enough to furnish the elements of revival—to stultify his main purpose of rendering rebellion impossible. Continuity was the essence of his policy. Though illiterate, he managed better than others more learned to transact the current duties of his state by means of his retentive memory, quickness of mind, and keen observation. The evolution of a monarchy was irresistible under his masterful action.
He was at home in the saddle and in camp among his soldiers, taking his meals in their presence. Love of horses was a passion with him; he procured the best at all costs from far and near, once even sending an army under his son and a French general to secure at an exorbitant price a celebrated one from his Pathan vassal at Peshawar. Possessing great powers of endurance, he was given to long journeys on horseback, surprise visits to distant parts of his dominions enabling him to check his governors in their reports as to revenue and other matters. His Court was brilliant with oriental pageantry, but personally he was free from pomp and show, and so scrupulously simple in his dress among his gorgeously clad sardars as to be distinguished among the distinguished; yet all feared him. Notwithstanding his apparent insignificant appearance, at first sight in strong contrast to the stalwart chiefs about him, he at once impressed and charmed foreign visitors by his superior mind, frank manners, and speech.
Captain Burnes, the English envoy sent in 1831 with a letter and presents from King William IV. of England, writes of his reception, when he suddenly found himself in the arms and tight embrace of a "diminutive old-looking man," the great Maharaja Ranjit Singh: "I never quitted the presence of a native of India with such impressions as I left this man. Without education and without a guide he conducts all the affairs of his kingdom with surpassing energy and vigour, and yet he wields his power with a consideration quite unprecedented in an Indian prince." In conversation with him he praised the bravery of his Sikhs, to whom he acknowledged he owed his success; that they were devoted to their duty and free from prejudice; would in emergencies carry eight days' provisions on their backs, dig wells when water was scarce, build forts and construct roads. Jacquemont, the distinguished French oriental traveller, who visited him at Lahore, wrote of him as an extraordinary man, a Bonaparte in miniature. "His conversation is like a nightmare. He is almost the first inquisitive Indian I have met, and his curiosity balances the apathy of his nation. He has asked me a hundred thousand questions about India, the British, Europe, Bonaparte, this world in general and the next, hell, Paradise, God, the devil, and a myriad of others of the same kind."
King and political head of the Punjab, as well as chief of the Khalsa, he aimed at reconciling the varied divisions of race and creed among his subjects by employing all in his service. He kept up, however, the theory of the Khalsa, attributing every success to the favour of the Guru in the name of the Lord. "God the helper—Ranjit Singh," was his sign-manual. The Sikhs retained special privileges as the ruling race, the heart and soul of the military nation—the favoured of the State. As landowners they were lightly assessed, while all others were heavily taxed. Much scope was given to their individual ambition, which maintained the independence of their character.
Many of the old orthodox Sikhs lamented his assumption of irresponsible power, which destroyed the theocratic Khalsa policy of preventing any one chief establishing absolute power; and they recalled the days of equality when he lived at Amritsar as one of themselves, though the first among the equals. They viewed with alarm his Court surroundings of men who were not Sikhs, who encouraged him to confine the Jats to the army as not clever enough for statecraft. The Brahmans and Dogra Rajput chiefs looked on them as inferiors, only fit as soldiers to obey their orders. Their object was to adopt the Mahratta policy—to combine the Sikh fighting power with their statesmanship. The rude Jat soldiery were eventually at the mercy of these intriguers. Govind Singh's warning against the class was forgotten. The Maharaja's religious tolerance was not agreeable to the old school, who reproached him for countenancing the presence of Hindu and Moslem ascetics at his Court, and departing from the doctrines of those who had shed their blood to found a purified faith. Clever Brahmans exercised influence over him during his last days to such an extent that at their instigation he resorted to the "pious tricks" for securing salvation denounced by Guru Govind Singh, by giving away to them to gain their prayers for him all his jewels, horses, and other personal valuables. He even willed away as a gift to the Hindu shrine of Juggarnath the great Koh-i-noor diamond, formerly taken from Delhi by Nadir Shah, and which had been extorted from Shah Suja of Kabul when he fled to Lahore; but the peerless gem was saved by the state treasurer refusing to pass it out for dedication, as he said it was Government property which should not be given away in alms. In this he was supported by the sardars, who associated its possession with the independence of the Sikh kingdom, it being a saying of the Maharaja's that whoever owned it would be the conqueror of the Punjab.
Ranjit Singh, the Lion of the Punjab as he was called, by courage, energy, promptness, and decision raised himself from the chiefship of a freebooting clan to be a king whose friendship was sought by distant sovereigns and princes. He undoubtedly saved the Sikhs from anarchy, disintegration, and sinking into insignificance by his masterly action in binding them together at a time when, persecution and common danger having disappeared, the confederacies were, like a loosely tied bundle of faggots, inimical to one another and intent on personal aggrandisement. The misls had done their work, and union was absolutely necessary to preserve their strength. As Nanak woke up the people by reforming their religion, and Govind by stern discipline developed their political independence, so Ranjit Singh, with a wise old head on his young shoulders, seizing the opportunity to found a military monarchy on the fruits of their labours, gave coherence to the Sikh nation. He was a great man of action and a good ruler for his time, his Government—a mild despotism—being then the only one suited to control the diverse and turbulent elements in the Punjab. Under his strong hand such order and security reigned there as had never been known before. He left to his successor (unfortunately a weak man) a united kingdom, a territory larger than the present Italy, and a well-appointed trained army provided with the best weapons of the day, which the British, a few years later, found the most difficult to overcome that they had ever met in India. When he died the Sikh power was at its zenith, and then it exploded, disappearing in fierce but fading flames.