CHAPTER IX.
DECLINE OF THE SIKH MONARCHY.
The Sikh kingdom, built up by forty years of resolute ability, did not long survive its founder. Its vigorous life was summed up in the person of Ranjit Singh: he symbolised its unity; he spoke for it to his neighbours. Neither his wisdom nor masterly spirit was in any measure possessed by his successors. On the loss of his strong hand the State was torn asunder by dissensions between rival princes, ministers, queens, and sardars, and rapidly declined, until ten years later it fell by conquest to the British, on whom the Sikhs fatuously forced war. The Khalsa, the one united power left, became prætorian in character, selling their services to the highest bidder. Army delegates decided in Council the fate of king and country, making and unmaking their rulers and officers. Murder was to settle every claimant, whether as Maharaja or Wuzir. There is not to be found in the annals of any country a more blood-stained record of relentless struggles for power than that of this epoch in Sikh history, when three Maharajas, three Wuzirs, and other aspirants to power in quick succession met violent deaths.
Some time previous to his death Ranjit Singh had taken into special favour the family of his minister Raja Dhian Singh, a Dogra Rajput, consisting of his son and two brothers, upon all of whom he conferred the title of Raja with princely jagirs or fiefs for their maintenance. Poor, but of good family, they entered the Sikh service as troopers; handsome and well-mannered, they soon attracted notice by their ability, and rapidly rose to high positions, where their influence in public affairs became paramount; but not being Sikhs, they were looked on with great jealousy by the other sardars. They played a deep game in the intriguing policy of that time, bent on gaining power and wealth, and on becoming independent, a policy which ultimately was successful.
The Dogra Rajputs, a branch of the old Aryan invaders of India, survived the Mahomedan invasions by occupying the hilly country north of the Punjab plains, where they maintained their independence till conquered by Ranjit Singh. They held aloof from the Sikh movement, as one in which their high caste was disregarded. They are strict Hindus, very clannish, loyal to their chiefs, and good soldiers, with all the Rajput pride of ancient lineage, disdaining every service but that of arms.
Kharak Singh, eldest son of Ranjit Singh, succeeded as Maharaja in 1839. He was weak in character and incompetent as a ruler. Under the evil influence of a sycophant Court favourite, his father's minister was ignored and insulted, and a plan made to assassinate him; but this coming to his knowledge, he resolutely formed a coalition with Nao Nihal Singh, the Maharaja's only son, a capable youth of fiery temper, and some sardars, lineal descendants from a common ancestor with Ranjit, to depose Kharak, regarding whom a rumour had been set afloat that he contemplated submission to the British when the Sikh army would be disbanded. This powerfully appealed to the soldiery, who now looked on the Maharaja as a traitor to his country. The minister with his adherents entered the palace before sunrise, cut down the royal guards, penetrated to the private apartments, and killed the obnoxious favourite in the presence of his master. Kharak Singh was then deposed after a reign of three months, and his son Nao Nihal Singh placed on the throne.
The deposed Maharaja died the following year, not without suspicion of poisoning, and the son mysteriously met his death 
PRINCE SHER SINGH—MAHARAJA OF THE PUNJAB, 1841–1843.
(Son of Maharaja Ranjit Singh.)
CLAD IN CHAIN ARMOUR AND STEEL HELMET WITH HERON PLUMES.
by what was called an accident while returning from his father's funeral obsequies. The designing minister now supported the queen-mother in her claim to govern as regent, on the ground that her deceased son's widow was enceinte. He also at the same time inspired Prince Slier Singh, a son of Ranjit Singh, to advance his claim to the throne. An armed contest commenced between the two claimants. The Prince appealed to the army, secured its aid by lavish promises, and made a dash at the capital, when the queen-mother with a Dogra force retired to the citadel and made a stout fight against overwhelming numbers, but had to capitulate after a five days' siege, during which time some thousands were killed and the city of Lahore plundered. The loss of her life soon afterwards followed her loss of power. The clever Dogra Rajas on this occasion actively participated on both sides and secured much wealth.
Sher Singh became Maharaja in 1841, but intrigue being rampant in the army, his Government lost all control over it. The military administration was now conducted by panchayats, or Councils of five delegates from each company in each regiment elected by their comrades—a democratic mode of self-government common in India, in villages, guilds, and other bodies,—synonymous with "Vox populi, vox Dei," as according to the Indian saying, "God is in the panchayat." These army councils formulated demands for increased pay and the dismissal of all officers obnoxious to them. On being refused they murdered many of their officers, sending them "aloft," according to their slang, and then plundered Lahore. The European officers had to flee. The mutiny extended to the provinces, and for some months all government was in abeyance, the soldiery being complete masters. At last, tired of their own excesses, they modified their requests, and tranquillity was restored. But from this time discipline and subordination ceased in the army; the soldiers, conscious of their power, cared little for any authority.
Maharaja Sher Singh on all occasions expressed himself favourable to the British, scrupulously adhering to his father's policy. It was solely owing to him that the British army, returning from Afghanistan in 1842, was allowed undisputed passage through the Punjab, many of the Sikh sardars being strongly disposed to attack it, as they thought the potent spell of victory so long attached to it had been broken at Kabul and by the policy of evacuating Afghanistan. His constancy exasperated the hostile party, of which the sardars who had taken part in deposing Kharak Singh were the active spirits, and they disputed Sher Singh's right to the throne as that of a reputed son only. They formed a plot to assassinate him. This was effected in 1843 while he was inspecting some cavalry on parade, and was followed by the murder of his son and heir and the rest of the family. The Dogra minister was in the plot; but after the deed, while conferring with the conspirators as to the future form of government, he was killed in order to get rid of the ascendancy of the powerful Dogras. Then followed further bloodshed. His son Raja Heera Singh appealed to the army to avenge these murders, and inflamed the soldiers by asserting that unless they acted with him the British would seize the Punjab and disband them, when, he added, from the Rajput point of view, "The Sikhs who now took a pride in the profession of arms would be compelled to seek an ignoble living by following the plough." This, coupled with a promise to increase their pay by one-half, was enough for the soldiery, now masters of the government. They in great force attacked the conspirators, who had shut themselves up in the citadel, captured it, and extirpated them, Lahore being again sacked. The young Raja brought the head of his father's murderer to the widow, a noble Rajputni dame, who was waiting by her husband's body. She then said, placing his father's warrior plume on the son's turban: "My mind is now at perfect ease. Let the funeral pyre be prepared, and I will follow my lord in his journey to the next world. When I see your father I will tell him you acted as a brave and dutiful son."
The assembled Councils decided to place on the throne Duleep Singh, a boy of ten, who had been tardily acknowledged as the youngest son of Ranjit Singh, with Raja Heera Singh as Wuzir. Again the army demanded concessions and also the dismissal of the European officers, all of which were complied with, their power being irresistible. A brother Raja of the murdered Wuzir appeared on the scene as a claimant for the wuzirship. He was killed in his attempt to supplant his nephew. Then two young princes, adopted sons of Ranjit Singh,—Kishmira Singh and Peshora Singh, so called after the conquest of Kashmir and Peshawar,—bade for power, instigated by the last of the three Dogra brother Rajas. Some of the old Khalsa chiefs, although hostile to the Dogra party, took the bait and supported the claimants, hoping thereby to get one of themselves made Wuzir. The Maharani Jindan, mother of Duleep Singh, cajoled them and temporised with the object of getting rid of all rivals. She feared and distrusted them all, and schemed so that the minister who had placed her son on the throne, under whose patronage she chafed, was killed, and her brother, Sardar Jowahir Singh, appointed in his place. In the conflicts and intrigues the two princes were treacherously slain. The rejoicings of the Court over this infuriated the army, with whom they were favourites as adopted sons of their old Maharaja, and they with some good reason ascribed their deaths to the new minister, being encouraged in this by the Dogra element. The Maharani was powerless in their hands: she bribed them, and even admitted the fact, recommending them to be quiet, as "there was no use in lamenting over those who were no longer among the living." They, however, swore to take vengeance on her brother as the author of the crime, and sent messages to him demanding his presence before them to answer the charge. He ignored them. They then insisted on the Maharani coming to the main camp of the army with the young Maharaja and the minister, on pain of seeing her son deposed. She very reluctantly obeyed the summons, being assured by one of her Court advisers, Lai Singh, a Brahman sardar, who had his own aims in view, that all would go well.
The State procession, escorted by the royal bodyguard, set out on the fateful visit,—the minister on an elephant holding in his arms the young Maharaja, the last of Ranjit Singh's acknowledged line, the queen-mother following in her golden howdah on another. As they approached the camp the Khalsa was assembled on parade; there was a strange quiet along the line. The Maharaja was received with royal honours, his mother making lavish promises as she passed on. On reaching the centre a Sikh soldier came forward and gave the order to halt. The military councils, deliberating on the right of the line, had decided that the minister was guilty of the murder of the two princes and was to be executed. Suddenly the bugles sounded and the drums beat; four battalions advanced, removed the escort to a distance, and surrounded the elephants of the cortége. Ten of the Council appeared; the minister was ordered to descend. He tried parleying: a soldier ascended to his howdah and removed the young Maharaja, who was placed in his mother's arms. She was escorted to a tent prepared for her, holding up her son and crying for mercy in his name for her brother. The doomed minister was then executed in full view of the army. A soldier mounted his elephant, calling out, "How dare you disobey the order of the Khalsa?" bayoneted him and flung him to the ground, where he was at once despatched with many wounds. The Maharani heard her brother's cry of pain, and, cursing the Khalsa, flung away in her grief and rage the boy Maharaja, who was caught by a soldier. Thus did the Khalsa, with wild justice and in memory of their beloved old chief, avenge the murder of the two princes. Next morning, after an agonised scene over her brother's body, the queen with her son was escorted back to the palace. This took place in September 1845. Inconsolable for many weeks after this tragedy, she became regent and managed her own ministerial duties, but she was determined to be revenged. This judicial murder of her brother became the direct factor in bringing about war with the British.
The power of the army was now at its height. The highest officers of the State dreaded it. There were no means of meeting its rapacity, as the treasury was empty. Anarchy reigned everywhere, and no revenue was forthcoming from the distant provinces. Stimulated by these internal dangers, the Durbar sought relief in external adventure. War with the British was to be the remedy. Anti-British feeling ever since the death of the wise Ranjit Singh was the prevailing weapon used in political intrigues. The fire which had been so long played with now became master. The idea of the Maharani in her spirit of revenge was after that of Iago, "Whether Briton killed Sikh, or Sikh killed Briton, or each do kill one another, either way makes my gain." She feared the Sikhs far more than the British. If victorious, the Khalsa would be engaged in plundering India, and she would gain the credit; if not, she could depend upon the British for life and generosity. At her instigation Raja Lai Singh, a Brahman favourite, was made Wuzir, and another Brahman, Raja Tej Singh, appointed commander-in-chief. The Dogra Raja Gulab Singh, the last of the brothers who had taken such a prominent part in the policy of these revolutionary times, held aloof and left the Khalsa to its doom. He thirsted for revenge on them for having killed so many of his family, but kept his head, biding his time to carry out his cherished design of independence.
A council of sardars and military delegates was held in the end of November 1845 to discuss the situation, when it was urged that unless something was done the Sikh power would collapse, and, as often happens in such cases, the something was fatuous—namely, the tragic error of violating the treaty with the British. The army was swept into the vortex of intrigue. There was a unanimous cry for war, and they became importunate to be led against the British—to the plunder of India. Some of the old Sikh sardars were averse to this, but they were powerless against the Court and the insolence of the soldiery. War was then declared without a shadow of provocation, and the order issued for the army to prepare to march. Now came a lull in revolution and assassination—the calm before the storm. The Khalsa prepared for the war with enthusiasm. They would take Delhi, sack it to pay off old scores, plunder the other rich cities of India, march to Calcutta and even to London! They were as well armed as the British, and could bring on the ground a preponderating force of men and guns; an initial victory would certainly be theirs, and then they would be joined by the Sikh states across the Sutlej. Such were their boasts. The glamour was soon dispelled. Only the iron hand of a Ranjit Singh could then have saved them from rushing to their ruin, but there was no one of such a calibre among them now. The chief sardars had gained affluence and lost moral force; the army was venal; and the arrogant ignorant punches, the military councils, ruled the Khalsa, which, deprived of the guidance of the European officers whom they had discarded, dashed itself against the British ranks in fierce but unavailing efforts to overcome them.