They voluntarily returned to that condition of semi-serfdom from which it was the especial boast of our Government that it had freed them

From The Great Mutiny by Christopher Hibbert. Page 149.

For the moment, though, there was the more immediate danger that the villagers from the surrounding districts would fulfil their threat of attacking and plundering the city. As anxious as Thornhill to prevent this, the leading inhabitants, who had previously taken precautions only to defend their own houses, reluctantly agreed to find men to defend the gates in their respective districts and to lend their support to the enlistment of additional policemen with whose help Thornhill was able to disarm the city mob. Having secured the
city as best he could, Thornhill decided to overawe the unruly villages beyond the walls by marching out with whatever men he could collect for such a purpose. He hoped that by burning down those villages that seemed least able to resist him he might intimidate others which he thought it 'prudent to avoid'. Provoked by this, however, several villages joined forces under the leadership of one Debi Singh, who assumed the title of Rajah, took to wearing a yellow dress, among Hindus a symbol of royalty, and assembled a force which it was beyond the power of Thornhill to subdue.

At this time there arrived in Muttra an English officer with a small force of loyal native troops; and with these reinforcements Thornhill felt strong enough to attack Debi Singh who was captured as he ran for hiding in a field of sugar cane. With his capture order was restored to the immediate area. But elsewhere there was anarchy; and Thornhill, as he moved from village to village with his small native army, began to realize that the real condition of the country was

very different from what it was supposed to be by [his superiors] at Agra . . . Village fought against village . . . caste against caste . . . The distant villages set the English government at open defiance; the nearer ones, afraid of our cannon, were more cautious in expressing their feelings. They were profuse, indeed, in their declarations of loyalty, and avoided all acts of open disobedience, but they persistently evaded the payment of their revenues. It was the belief of the government, and also of the English generally that the natives were attached to our rule; and moreover that, weary of the present anarchy, they longed for the re-establishment of order. My present experience did not confirm this belief. No one regretted the loss of our rule; and, with the exception of the baniyas who suffered by it, all classes enjoyed the confusion.

One wealthy landowner told Thornhill that the recent few weeks had been the happiest of his life. He had gone about in state and done exactly as he liked, punishing those whom he wished to punish, rewarding those who had pleased him. He had not objected to the English Government at first; but lately it had meddled in everything and upset all his people's ancient customs. 'Besides,' he added, 'what with the heavy land revenue, the school rates, and all the other new cesses, taxation had become pretty well unbearable.'

The peasants on his land were inclined to agree with him. Thornhill noted that they

voluntarily returned to that condition of semi-serfdom from which it was the especial boast of our Government that it had freed them. At the same time there was re-established suttee, domestic slavery, and all those other barbarous customs, the abolition of which we had justly regarded as the chief glory of our rule, and as our best title to the gratitude of the people. It was evident that in its most humane and philanthropic efforts our Government had not been in harmony with the sentiments of the country.

Thornhill himself confessed that he could to a certain extent enter into the feelings of the people. He derived a perverse pleasure from contemplating the change in the appearance of the countryside which had reverted to the wild picturesqueness associated with the feudal ages, with fortifications in every village, and grandees resuming their ancient state and surrounding themselves with troops of attendants and hosts of armed retainers, with cavalcades of horses and gaily caparisoned camels, with crowds of followers carrying swords and spears and clothed as though for a carnival. But now and then Thornhill would come across a corpse lying in a mango grove or thrown down a well, and he would recognize the darker side of this renascent India; and, recalled to his duty as Magistrate of Muttra, he would be brought once more to face the terrible problems that confronted him, the impossibility of placing implicit trust in the ragged army that was his sole instrument of authority.