THE battle of Kirkee was the turning-point in the last Mahratta war, which sealed the fate of the Peishwa's dynasty and transferred the Deccan to British rule, and is naturally, in that part of India, still regarded by all whose recollections go back to those days, as the one great event of modern history.
When the collector of these tales was in India, the house temporarily occupied by the Governor of Bombay overlooked the field of battle, and among those who came to see the Governor on business or pleasure were some, natives as well as Europeans, to whom the events of half a century ago were matters of living memory.
Old soldiers would tell how the fidelity of the native Sepoys resisted all the bribes and threats of Bajee Row Peishwa, the absolute Brahman ruler of Poona, and thus, while the Peishwa hoped to effect his purpose by treachery, enabled Mr. Mountstuart Elphinstone to defer open hostilities—a matter of vital importance to the operations of Lord Hastings on the other side of India, in preparing for his great campaign against the Pindaries.
The veterans would recount all the romantic incidents of the struggle which followed. How the 'old Toughs' (H. M.'s 103d Regiment, now 2d Bn. Royal Dublin Fusiliers), the only European corps within reach, when at last slipped from the leash at Panwell, marched seventy-two miles straight up over the Ghauts to Poona, with but a single three hours' halt en route; how they closed up their ranks of travel-soiled warriors and entered the British lines with band playing and colours flying; and how not a straggler dropped behind, 'for all knew that there must be a battle soon.' Their arrival was the signal for the Peishwa to throw off the mask, and the British Residency being untenable, our troops moved out to take up a safer position at Kirkee, about three miles from the city of Poona; and as they marched they saw all the houses of the Resident and his suite fired by the enemy, who swarmed out of the city. As they formed in line of battle, they anxiously watched the native regiments coming up on their flank from Dapoorie, for that was the moment for successful treachery, if the native soldiers were untrue! Not a Sepoy, however, in the British ranks wavered, though before the junction was complete a cloud of Mahratta cavalry poured down upon them, dashed through the opening left between the two lines, enveloped either flank of the little army, and attacked the European regiment in the rear. Then, as a last resource, the European regiment faced about their second rank, and kept up such a steady rolling fire to front and rear at the same time, that but few of the eager horsemen ever came within spear's-length of the British bayonets.
In these days of rapid and far-reaching musketry fire, such a manœuvre bids fair to supersede the formation of squares to resist cavalry, but up to that day it had been but twice successfully attempted, as far as our military histories told, even by 'the terrible infantry' of England, and the veterans of the 'old Toughs' were not a little proud to have succeeded in a movement which had won for H. M.'s 28th Regiment (now 1st Bnt Gloucestershire Regt.) the unique honour of having a double number, on the back as well as the front of their caps.
One of the most touching recollections of those times attracted our notice almost the last day we spent at Kirkee. An old chief, Jadowrow of Malagaom, had come to take leave of the departing Governor. He was head of one of the oldest Mahratta families, for
