THE DANGEROUS GLORY OF INDIA.*

From "Fraser's Magazine," October 1874.

AMBITION is a puzzling theme to the moralist, whether it

be regarded from the high political, or from the domestic point of view. To some it appears that to be content to abide in that station of life in which we are born is sufficient virtue : yet if all were so minded, how could a nation move onward? On the opposite principle, if each is eager to rise, shall we not fall into the endless vices contingent upon haste to become rich? It is no complete solution to allege with Pythagoras and Euripides that there is a golden "mean;" yet, as a first and provisional step, we seem forced to accept it: and the same may be said of private political ambition. If none of us loved to rule, if to nearly every one of us exalted station were simply irksome and embarrassing, high self-denial would be needed for any to undertake the toil of government. The inconveniences of such a state may reconcile us to many of the evils which personal ambitions cause to society.

But when we look on that public ambition which impels princes and states to territorial conquest, the dreadful results of national wars lead the moralist to sterner tones of disapproval. Perhaps he exclaims, "Govern your own people better, before you aspire to extend the limits of your rule." If England were brought to the bar of judgment by foreigners who considered only that our wisdom (such as it is) is unequal to the task of governing Ireland well, yet that we have added to our responsibility the oversight of two hundred millions of Indians, separated from us by a vast breadth of continent, and a still greater oceanic distance; we might be pronounced guilty of

1. Address to the National Indian Association, by Mr Nowrozjee Furdoonjee, on the Personal Bearing of Europeans in India towards the Natives.

2. "The Bombay Riots of 1874." Bombay. Compiled from the Bombay Gazette (February).

3. The Bombay Gazette of April 6, 1874.

very culpable wild ambition and monstrous imprudence. Of course we reply, with perfect truth, that neither king, statesmen, nor people ever deliberately planned from the beginning or desired such an empire. It began as a set of mercantile establishments, which took up private arms for mere self-defence: and after every success, planned only for security and for trade. The Honourable East India Company was glad to legitimate its position by accepting from the Grand Mogul the subordinate post of a Rent Collector; indeed, from the beginning to the end of its political career, it was animated by a consistent and unswerving disapproval of aggression and fresh conquest. Whence then came the long series of wars and annexations? A two-fold reply must be given. In the earlier stages of events, while the native powers hoped to expel us, the real cause of war lay in them. Who can blame them, for seeing with an evil eye the establishment of a foreign dominion on their soil, and fearing its further growth? But in the later stage, when the Company had so manifested warlike superiority, and had attained so massive a strength that no native ruler dreamed of being able to expel it, nor would voluntarily have made war on it; thenceforward the direct aggression came from the very highest English Executive-ministers or appointees of the Crown-still against the will and judgment of the East India Company, and without any cognizance of the nation.

Events were also precipitated by foreign causes. The indefensible and miserable Affghan war, undertaken in jealousy of Russia, by the will and influence of perhaps two men only two powerful officials--was carried out in a manner high-handed in the extreme. In Europe, we regard it as highly culpable if a belligerent state march through a neutral state for its own military convenience; but in Asia we have no such scruples. For his own policy against Russia Lord Palmerston was pleased to impose a king upon Affghanistan; and for this purpose to send an army through two foreign states, Sind and the Punjaub, and to garrison certain strong places in them: then after assaulting and capturing Ghizni, we entered into military occupation of Câbool. The Duke of Wellington had disapproved of the war from the beginning, and even after our brilliant success, "wished he could see the troops safe back in India." Alas, not one in a hundred of those troops returned; and the second army did but march in, and out again. This disastrous war showed to the

Ameers of Sind and to the Sikhs of the Punjaub our ambition, our unscrupulousness, and likewise that we were not invincible. Sir Charles Napier made (apparently) a war of his own devising against the Ameers; and the Sikhs, on the death of their sagacious ruler Runjeet Singh, thought that their only safety lay in invading India themselves, instead of awaiting our attack. This is the single instance in the last fifty years, in which we have been strictly on the defensive in a great Indian war; and for the invasion we were ourselves largely responsible.

There is a reason for here dwelling on a phenomenon of that war. It was made very prominent in an article of the Edinburgh Review, immediately after the events; but in the third part of a century the new generation is apt to be totally unacquainted with the particulars. Our first Punjaub or Sikh war was marked by four great battles, of which the first two were quite indecisive; the third was a clear English victory; the fourth was overwhelming, and entirely crushed the invading army, giving to us in turn the mastery of their country. The first of these battles, known by the name of Moodkee, was fought unexpectedly on both sides, in consequence of the English army marching unawares almost into the enemy's lines. In the evening, our troops, wearied with their march, had thrown off their incumbrances, and were preparing for supper, when suddenly they found that the enemy was close at hand, of which neither our general nor the troops had had the least idea. They were forced to resume their arms in the utmost haste, and, in spite of their exhaustion, to fight a terrible battle as they best might. They did repulse the enemy, and secure a safe night for themselves to achieve so much was far more than might have been expected. The wonder was that our whole force was not destroyed, dispersed, or captured. But this suggested the question-How was it that we were so ignorant where the Sikh army lay? And the explanation of this was very uncomfortable— "Because none of the villagers were anxious to bring us information." On this it was remarked that, in past Indian history, when the country was invaded, whatever the reigning dynasty, the Indian peasants had always sympathised patriotically with the army of defence, and regarded the army of invasion as an enemy. Here, for the first time, as it seemed, they were either hostile to the Government, and wished success to the invaders, or at least were apathetic. Important instruction for us is suggested by this occurrence. It warns us wherein lies our true danger, to

which we blind ourselves by zeal for military defence against Russian invasion. If we succeed in winning Indian loyalty—if the great mass of the Indian population become even as well affected to us as the Hindoos in general were to a Mussulman dynasty-foreign invasion will be incredible and impossible. Wielding then the resources of 150 millions of Indians, besides the very important aids which, in a truly national cause, the kings of the remaining 50 millions would afford us, we could have no rational apprehensions, even if Russia and her masses of population were conterminous with India; but with the deserts of Tartary, and Persia, and Affghanistan to protect us, no sane man can fear Russia, except on the secret belief of Indian bitter disaffection, and eager hatred from the Affghans. But if we are to count on this as a permanent fact, how can security in any case be possible, with or without Russia? And how can our presence in India be morally justified? The use of such an argument dishonours us to all Europe. It holds us up as a mere army of occupation in India-aware that we are spurned as intruders, hopeless of reconciling the native millions to our rule, yet resolute to go through any amount of bloodshed to hold our ground; and equally resolute to resist that influence of Russia over Tartary, Persia, and Affghanistan which, apparently to the rest of Christendom, is important for the advance of humanity. Until we renounce fears of Russia we shall, as heretofore, rule India the worse on account of these fears.

Foreigners who are jealous of England-who dislike our aristocratic and royal policy, who think us arrogant and grasping, selfish, and self-complacent-avow, when the topic of India comes up, that in the cause of political enlightenment and human progress they of necessity wish for the solid establishment of our sway in that country, seeing what was the anarchy which preceded us, and what the imbecility of the native dynasties. With few exceptions-perhaps none of importance-the powers and peoples of Christendom sympathise with our Indian ascendency, as conducive to Eastern civilisation. Ought we not in turn to recognize the great and beneficent task which devolves on Russia, in regard to a large part of Asia with which she is conterminous ? Who can read the history of modern Persia without despair creeping over him for that country, unless she is to be vehemently influenced from abroad? Who can consider the vain decrees of Turkish Sultans in favour of equal law for Christians, without seeing their inability to act against the Mussulman

population, who are their only army, the sole support of their throne? In Persia, England has done little to make herself beloved, and can never be feared so much as Russia is feared. Russia therefore alone is able to reorganise Persia by advice and by pressure. If even it were by conquest, the new responsibility would be great, the strain on her military resources very grave; and it is probable that all Europeans who are unbiased by national rivalry would esteem her rule over Persia equally beneficial as to India the English rule. Much more may the same be said concerning Khiva, and all those Tartars whose independence is savage license; who by destructive raids into Persia make vast deserts where there has been and might be thick population; and, as in the earliest times of barbarism, keep up a cruel slavery by kidnapping all their neighbours. There is no existing power on earth which can bridle these barbarians but Russia. On her the task is laid. It is at once difficult, and by no means remunerating. To be ever making jealous outcry, and insisting that our Government ought to exact "promises" that Russia will make no territorial conquests in Asia, is as impotent and undignified as it is unblushing. Did Russia or France protest when we absorbed this or that Indian potentate? Are only Englishmen incapable of seeing politics from the human and humane point of view, and rising above mean jealousies ?

When danger to our Indian Empire is mentioned, the word suggests two widely different thoughts to different minds. One class thinks at once of danger from Russia, the other of danger from the Indian population. Yet no one pretends that from Russia any immediate danger impends. It is justly said that she is an ambitious, encroaching, stealthy, far-looking, foreplanning power; that as her frontier has advanced from St Petersburg to Warsaw, and from the Wolga to Khiva, so it may reach into Balkh and Kandahar, and perhaps by means of dependent princes, to the very frontiers of India, in another half century. Now when a foreign policy rests on a universal principle, it may be equally moral and far-seeing; and that it provides for the distant future, is then a praise; but when the policy urged is one of special expediency to ourselves, it is of little weight unless it supply an immediately pressing need. Mere expediency varies, and may pass into the reverse, in less than half a century, through a change of circumstances; and to take on ourselves immediate effort and encounter immediate evil in such a cause, is very unwise. If a collision with Russia