A Comprehensive History of Modern Bengal, 1700-1950 9389901952, 9789389901955

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a comprehensive history of modern bengal 1700–1950

A Comprehensive History of

modern bengal 1700–1950 volume i edited by

sabyasachi bhattacharya

the asiatic society

1 Park Street  q    Kolkata 16

in association with

PRIMUS BOOKS An imprint of Ratna Sagar P. Ltd. Virat Bhavan Mukherjee Nagar Commercial Complex Delhi 110 009

Offices  at CHENNAI LUCKNOW AGRA AHMEDABAD BANGALORE COIMBATORE DEHRADUN GUWAHATI HYDERABAD JAIPUR JALANDHAR KANPUR KOCHI KOLKATA MADURAI MUMBAI  PATNA RANCHI VARANASI 

©  the asiatic society 2020 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of Primus Books, or as expressly permitted by law, by licence, or under terms agreed with the appropriate reproduction rights organization. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to Primus Books at the address above. First published 2020 ISBN:  978-93-89901-95-5 (hardback) Published by Primus Books in association with The Asiatic Society Laser typeset by Guru Typograph Technology Crossings Republic, Ghaziabad 201 009 Printed and bound in India by Replika Press Pvt. Ltd.

This book is meant for educational and learning purposes. The author(s) of the book has/have taken all reasonable care to ensure that the contents of the book do not violate any existing copyright or other intellectual property rights of any person in any manner whatsoever. In the event the author(s) has/have been unable to track any source and if any copyright has been inadvertently infringed, please notify the publisher in writing for correct

Contents



List of Illustrations

Foreword Introduction   1. Political History and Historiography of Bengal Subah, 1700–1757 syed ejaz hussain

vii xi xiii

1

  2. Military Power and Warfare in the Era of European Ascendancy in Bengal, 1700–1815 kaushik roy

26

  3. Some Aspects of Urbanization and De-Urbanization in Bengal, 1600–1850 aniruddha ray and soumitra sreemani

96

  4. The Making of a Maritime Economy: Bengal, 1600–1800 rila mukherjee

164

  5. The French Companies in Bengal, 1664–1720: An Analysis aniruddha ray

212

  6. The VOC in Bengal in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries rila mukherjee

240

  7. Demography, Man and Nature in Bengal, c.1770–1930 arun bandopadhyay

286

  8. A Tale of Rivers of Bengal: An Environmental History ranjan chakrabarti

308

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  9. The Zamindars of West Bengal john r. m c lane

330

10. Internal Trade and Markets in Bengal and the Rise of the English East India Company, 1700–1790 sudipta sen

391

11. European East India Companies and External Trade in Eighteenth-Century Bengal sushil chaudhury

426

12. Rise and Growth of Calcutta between 1750 and 1850 soumitra sreemani

450

13. Banking and the Credit System in Bengal in the Eighteenth Century abhik r. ray

497

14. A Medley of Forms and Styles: Art in the Eighteenth-Century Bengal asok kumar das

528

15. Situating Patrons and Artists in Eighteenth-Century Bengal ratnabali chatterjee

563

16. Social Banditry in Bengal, 1757–1857 ranjit sen

594

17. Islam in Early Eighteenth-Century Bengal richard m. eaton

653

18. Muslim Literati and their Social, Political and Religious Thoughts in the Eighteenth Century syed ejaz hussain

683

Brief Bibliographic References on Bengal History, 1967–2017 amiya kumar baul

723



Editor and Contributors

757



Index

761



List of Illustrations

plates 14.1

Mount Meru, from a manuscript of Laghu-kshetrasamasa, prepared at Makshudabad, 1769; courtesy British Library, London.

530

14.2

Rama returns to Ayodhya, illustration from Ramcharitmanasa, fol. 173a; courtesy Asutosh Museum of Indian Art, University of Calcutta, Kolkata. 532

14.3

Prince Kamrup assembles an army, illustration from Dastur-e Himmat, fol. 166v; courtesy Chester Beatty Library, Dublin.

534

14.4

Illustration to the Nal Daman; courtesy Victoria Memorial, Kolkata.

535

14.5

Scene from the Razmnama, made for Sir Elijah Impey, 1775–80, no. MS.5640, fol. 384v; courtesy British Library, London.

536

Beheaded giant stoned by monkeys and bears, From the Impey Ramayana, no.1990.432; courtesy Binney Collection, San Diego Museum of Art.

537

14.7

Panel from a Ramayana scroll from Murshidabad; courtesy V&A Museum, London.

538

14.8

Alivardi Khan with his nephews Shahamat Jang and Saulat Jang and grandson Siraj, c.1756, no. D.1201-1903; courtesy V&A Museum, London.

540

Alivardi Khan hunting a roebuck, no.D.1199-1903; courtesy V&A Museum, London.

541

14.6

14.9

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14.10 Alivardi Khan presiding over the adoption of Ikram ud-Daulah by Saulat Jang; courtesy Swinton Collection, National Museum of Scotland, Edinburgh. 542 14.11 Gauri ragini, from the Impey Ragamala, no. Add. Or.4; courtesy British Library, London.

546

14.12 Mir Jafar with his son Miran out on a hunting trip, by Prannath, no. I.M.13-1911; courtesy V&A Museum, London.

547

14.13 Scenes of life by the river, c.1780, Ms. Douce Or. a3 fol. 1; courtesy Bodleian Library, Oxford.

550

14.14 Nobleman enjoying Holi, Murshidabad style at Patna 1763–4; courtesy Art Institute of Chicago.

551

14.15 Chait Festival, no.I.S. 11.5-1887; courtesy V&A Museum, London.

553

14.16 Nawab Mubarak ud-Daula in durbar with the Resident Sir John Hadley D’Oyly, no. IS 11-1887 (3/49); courtesy V&A Museum, London.

554

14.17 A sulphur-crested Cockatoo by Zain ud-Din, 1777, from the Impey Album; courtesy Bodleian Library, Oxford.

555

14.18 A mountain rat on an almond tree by Zain ud-Din, 1778, from the Lady Impey Album; courtesy Binney Collection, San Diego Museum of Art.

555

14.19 State Boats of Murshidabad passing by the Moti Jharna waterfall by Sitaram, no. 1990.1376; courtesy Binney Collection, San Diego Museum of Art.

557

15.1

Siraj al-Daulah as Nayak, Murshidabad, Eighteen Century; courtesy Indian Museum, Kolkata.

572

15.2

Portrait of an East India Company official, Possibly William Fullerton, Surgeon and mayor of Calcutta in 1757. Artist: Dip Chand, Murshidabad, c.1760–4. Opaque watercolour on paper; courtesy Victoria & Albert Museum, London.

575

15.3

15.4

List of Illustrations

ix

Robert Clive meeting Mir Jafar after the battle of Plassey, June 25, 1757. Artist: Francis Hayman, Painted c.1761–2. Oil on canvas; 101.6 X 127 cm; courtesy National Portrait Gallery, London

583

Warren Hastings with his wife by John Zoffany, Calcutta, 1783–7; courtesy Victoria Memorial Hall, Kolkata

590

B.1

Transliteration Method, Journal of the Asiatic Society 724

B.2

Transliteration Method, Journal of the Asiatic Society 725

maps 4.1

Investment at Dhaka in 1747

190

4.2

Investment at Jugdia and Dhaka around 1755

191

Private European Trade Investment Figures, 4.3 1795–1801

191

4.4

English Company Trade Figures, 1754–1800

192

6.1

European Tonnage to East Asia

243

6.2

Comparative Figures in Pound Sterling for Dutch and English Investments in Bengal Silk in the Seventeenth Century

265

6.3 Dutch and English Investment Figures in Pounds Sterling for Bengal Silk in the Early Eighteenth Century

265

6.4

Estimated Value of the Amount of Cloth Exported from Dhaka in 1747

267

6.5

Comparative Value of European Currencies against Sicca Rupees from Assays by the Calcutta Mint in 1792

271

8.1

A part of an actual survey, of the provinces of Bengal, Bahar & Co., by Major James Rennell, published in 1794, showing the south of Bakharganj wherein it is written ‘This part of the Country has been Deserted on Account of the Ravages of the Muggs’. 320

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10.1 Sayer Collections in Bengal (1 October 1789 to 30 September 1790)

417

11.1

Share Percentage of Textile Value in the Total Export Value

434

11.2

Quadrennial Total and Average of Dutch and English Textile Exports, 1710–11–1717–18

434

11.3

Quinquennial Total and Average Annual Dutch and English Textiles Exports, 1730–1755

435

11.4

Share Percentage of Different Categories of Textiles Exported by the Companies, 1730s–1750s (First Five Years of Each Decade)

436

11.5

Volume and Value of the Dutch and English Textile Exports 437

11.6

Quinquennial Total and Annual Average of English Exports of Raw Silk, 1730–1755

444

11.7

Quinquennial Total and Annual Average of the Dutch Exports, 1730–1755

445

11.8

Quinquennial Total and Average Annual Volume of Dutch and English Saltpetre Export, 1730–1755

446

13.1

Rates at which Government Balances were to be remitted to Calcutta

512

16.1

Incidence of Robberies in Bengal during 1803–1806

627

16.2

District-wise Increase in Incidences of Dacoity in Bengal, 1851

628

16.3

Conviction of Dacoity for 1851

629

17.1

Changes in Revenue Demand in Bengal, 1595–1659 (in rupees)

658

17.2

Increase in Bengal’s Population Density, 1872–1981 (Population per sq. mi.)

658

Foreword

A

s i sit down to write the ‘Foreword’ to this 3-volume A Comprehensive History of Modern Bengal, 1700–1950, I cannot but refer to the last line written by the late Professor Sabyasachi Bhattacharya in the ‘Introduction’ to this monumental work. Aware that this would be his final contribution to a glorious career, he brought to it his immense and wide scholarship, his meticulous research and his brilliant mind to leave us a volume that would be remembered as a milestone for many years to come. In the history of the Asiatic Society’s recent publications, the three volumes of A Comprehensive History of Modern Bengal, 1700–1950 will be considered a landmark for a number of reasons. First, one of the seniormost historians of our time, Professor Bhattacharya, not only conceived of and pressed for the adoption of this proposal, but also volunteered to be the Honorary Editor of this prestigious project. In December 2016, when the green signal was given to it, a three-year time limit was imposed for its completion by the Council of the Asiatic Society. Second, a Working Committee constituted by the Council duly monitored the progress of the work under the academic stewardship of Professor Bhattacharya. The prerequisite set by the Committee was that all the identified authors for these three volumes be given a fixed date for the submission of their respective chapters. They were also provided with a common style sheet and editorial instructions and were required to present their drafts at two successive authors’ workshops conducted at the Society’s premises in Kolkata between 7 and 9 February 2018 and 3 and 5 August 2018. Third, Professor Bhattacharya, in spite of his failing health, personally attended these two workshops and stayed longer than was physically admissible or comfortable for him. Thereby, he had the chance of meeting all the contributors and exchanging ideas

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and interacting with them, barring some who could not attend but exchanged mails with him. Fourth, he meticulously went through all the chapters, did the necessary editing and wrote a lucid but succinct ‘Introduction’ common to the three volumes. Because of his standing in his field, he could gather a galaxy of scholars from various parts of the globe who were determined to fulfil the mission of their beloved Sabyasachida or Bappada (as he was referred to fondly) with whom they had worked and whom they loved and revered. In watching him supervise and prepare these volumes, we have had the rare pleasure of witnessing a dedicated academician fighting a soldier’s battle unto the last to complete his cherished last major work. I sincerely feel that after a long time The Asiatic Society has achieved, through these volumes, a demonstrable success in com­ pleting a time-bound important project which will register its presence among scholars across all divides throughout the country and beyond. Kolkata S.B. Chakrabarti 15 January 2020 General Secretary The Asiatic Society

Introduction Sabyasachi Bhattacharya

T

he earliest expositions of the history of Bengal in modern times can be attributed to the confluence of four historiographic traditions and cultures: the translation into Bengali of J.C. Marshman’s History of Bengal in 1848 by Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar, a companion volume published by Ramgati Nayaratna in 1859, and a relatively independent work, written by Bhudeb Mukhopadhyay between 1865 and 1869.1 Another parallel tradition of historiography is represented by works of historians like Gulam Hussain’s Chronicles of Bengal, a derivative of the tradition of Mughal or Indo-Persian historiography. And then there was the stream that sprang from Europe’s discovery of Asia’s ancient past, particularly the development of a whole new discipline of Indology. Finally, there is the search for the past through the efforts of people like Akshay Kumar Maitreya and Rabindranath Tagore.2 Given such diverse constitutive elements in the historicizing of Bengal’s past, it is not surprising that the literature we encounter is a complex discourse that has never been free of controversies. An attempt to write history beyond controversy is universally admitted to be an impossible task today, and our attempt will be no exception. However, it was also widely felt that, given the advances in research after 1967 as well as the newly developed approaches to history, a fresh endeavour was needed to survey the present state of knowledge of the history of modern Bengal in the period 1700–1950. Our attempt has been, in so far as an enquiry comprehending hitherto known outlines of contemporary and generally accepted modern knowledge by the *We are indebted to Dr Promodini Varma for editing and finalizing the ‘Introduction’ to this three-volume series.

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scholarly world may allow us, to form some idea of the location of a consensus among scholars who otherwise hold differing views. The principle we have relied upon is to identify recognized authorities in their fields of specialization, who may belong to different schools, ideologies, methodological categories, etc., and to allow them the freedom to formulate their view of the consensus among scholars. Hence, the apparently unexciting and unambitious request that was sent out to scholars contributing to the projected volumes was that the objective is to provide an evaluation of the present state of knowledge.

Regionalization Some conceptual questions relating to regionalization need to be addressed before we move forward. Questions like ‘What was the concept of Bengal in the imagination of the traditional Bengali mind in the eighteenth century?’, and ‘What sort of unity was attributed to Bengal, other than the obvious one of language?’ inevitably come to mind. Mukundaram Chakrabarti in early seventeenth century prefaced his poetic narrative Chandi Mangal with the praise of various gods and goddesses. As a routine, like other poetic texts of the times, Chakrabarti begins with a dik-bandana (literally, worship of the quarters of the compass),3 invoking the presiding deity at each major pilgrimage centres as well as the smaller temple sites in different directions. A larger number of sites are chosen from the south of Bengal because when Chakrabarti was writing the Chandi Mangal, he was situated in what is now the district of Midnapore, having migrated from his native village in Burdwan. He begins with major centres beyond Bengal: Neelachal in Orissa (present Odisha), Vrindaban, Ayodhya (Ayodhyae bandibo thakur Sri Ram), Gaya, Prayag, Dwaraka, Hastinapur, and Varanasi. Then the poet mentions serially the temples and deities within his knowledge in Bengal, ranging from major centres like Kalighat to lesser temples and sites of pilgrimage like those in Bikrampur, Kharagpur, Teotia, Damanya, Chandrakona, Tamralipta, etc. 4 Similarly, Ray Mangal, written in ad 1723 by the poet Hari Deb Sharma of the present district of Howrah, has a dik-bandana listing places of pilgrimage, but his range is more limited, not going beyond Puri and Vrindaban. What is interesting here is the inclusion of pirs (holy men) revered by Muslims. Thus,



Bhattacharya: Introduction

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along with Mahamaya or Jagannath, you have Dafar Khan Gazi of Tribeni or Sarenga Saheb also listed.5 Clearly, there is little sense of demarcation here by region or religion. The regionalization followed by the earlier scholars of Bengal history, dividing Bengal into rarha and banga, appears to have no relevance in our contemporary discourse just as little attention is paid to pre-1971 subregional identities, except in moments of nostalgia vis-à-vis the country that was left behind by migrants after 1947. And though plenty of evidence is available of the fact that the cultivation of local and regional history was important for the sustenance of local patriotism, which is reflected in local history writing in the Bengali-speaking regions in the early twentieth century, that still does not help us answer the question: how do we define regional history? I will begin with the proposition that though historians talk about regions all the time, they usually do not give any thought to region as a concept. I have in mind academic historians in the sphere of professional historiography, as distinct from writers who use history to build regional sentiments for political purposes. Professional social scientists have often used regional categories without paying much attention to how they are defined. Let us look beyond Bengal. Some of the regions pertain to a particular historical period: the Bombay Presidency was a colonial invention, without a past and was wiped out as a category after Independence. Some notions of regionalization have deep historical roots: the Oudh of the British period, preceded by Awadh of the medieval times, in turn, preceded by the semi-mythical, sacred Ayodhya though the spatial boundaries of each shifted considerably. Sometimes historians also use a regional category by projecting backwards, recently created political or administrative units: there are now histories of Himachal Pradesh and Jharkhand. Needless to say, the basis of regionalization is also diverse: regions may be defined culturally (e.g. Maha-Koshala or Jharkhand), or linguistically (e.g. the Bhojpuri region), or in terms of administrative units (e.g. Northern Circars of the Madras Presidency or any district of British India), or according to ecological classification (e.g. the Gangetic delta), or again as ethnic identities (e.g. the Telugu identity). One begins to wonder, then, if any kind of systematic thinking has been devoted to regionalization, given this diversity and confusion.

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This is an important issue, because very often, a mentality called ‘regionalism’ exerts an influence over the public mind and claims authority from real or supposed historical evidence. Therefore, a great responsibility devolves upon the historian to examine the basis on which we, as historians, so to speak, construct the ‘region’. Hence the need to go about this business with more deliberation than we are wont to employ on account of our tendency to take the regions as ‘given’. It is fairly obvious from the examples I have given earlier that what historians denote as regions are not immutable, that they originate in particular periods of history and may cease to be meaningful in another period. Thus, Oudh was a meaningful category up to its incorporation into British India: it ceased to be so afterwards. Likewise, ‘Bombay Presidency’ might have meant something in nineteenth-century gazettes and histories, but it is scarcely a viable category before or after. And again, the limits of the region called Bengal depends on which century we are talking about (and, if I may suggest in jest, whether you are a Bengali or not). Regions are therefore (except, of course, those defined technically in terms of physical or ecological features) products of history. They are not ephemeral, but nor are they unchanging and everlasting. Sometimes a kind of regional chauvinism may lead the layman to assume that they are everlasting, but historians know how history in the long run makes and unmakes regions. Much as Fernand Braudel suggested while defining a Mediterranean of historical dimension, regions can arise and disintegrate, expand and contract, and the idea of Bengal is a good example. We must also understand that there is a great diversity in the criteria of regionalization. Sometimes the criterion is linguistic, sometimes political-administrative, sometimes communal, and so on. Joseph Schwartzberg, long before he attained fame for his historical atlas of India, wrote a perceptive paper in 1967 on this question, in a collection of essays edited by R.G. Fox.61 As a social geographer, Schwartzberg distinguished three types of regionalizations: (a) ‘denoted’, (b) ‘instituted’, and (c) ‘naively given’. By ‘denoted’, Schwartzberg meant regions which are distinguished and delimited with a particular purpose by a linguist, or a historian, or an anthropologist, but are unrelated to existing units created for



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administrative purposes. The ‘instituted’ region, on the other hand, arises out of administrative functions, in order to facilitate the performance of, and to define the spatial limits of, such functions. Finally, the ‘naively given’ region is ‘recognized as a meaningful territorial unity by the people who live there or by other people to whom it is of some concern’, as for example, Saurashtra or Jharkhand or Telangana. This scheme allows us to think systematically about the criteria for regionalization. It is, of course, quite possible that a region may satisfy more than one criterion for the purpose of regional delineation. For example, a ‘naively given’ region that is perceived as a unit by itself and others, may also be an administrative unit and/ or be denoted as a unit in linguistic or ethnic or communal terms. Ever since the linguistic reorganization of India was accepted by the Congress in the pre-Independence period, it has promoted a trend towards the congruence of ‘instituted’ with ‘naively given’ regional boundaries. Even so, the epistemological status of the ‘naively given’, ‘instituted’, and ‘denoted’ regions should be recognized to be different. Which of these types of regionalization schemes the historian accepts will, obviously, depend upon his approach. For example, the ‘instituted’ region, such as the 24 Parganas (in Bengal), will be appropriate if one is working in the political-administrative field, while one’s business will be with the so-called ‘naively given’ region if one is into social and cultural history. It is, however, the ‘denoted’ region which is our major concern. The historian may begin with given regions according to folk perception or administrative fiat, but he may arrive at a pattern of regionalization on the basis of his empirical findings and theoretical understanding. Having underlined the caution required in regionalizing in history, we have to admit that regional-level studies promise to enrich our historiography in ways not achievable in the macrolevel approach. In economic history, this is the only way one can test generalizations of a high order—for example, regional deindustrialization, differentiation within the peasantry, peasant rationality in crop choice, and so forth. Here, the regional approach is the appropriate approach because much basic data are not available at the all-India level. Anyone who has handled nineteenth century

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statistical sources will have realized how difficult it is to construct a continuous time series on an all-India scale, though an exercise like this is feasible for some regions. Moreover, regional history allows us to explore details of the interplay between economic, social, and cultural factors in the explication of questions such as: how the dominance of the rich peasant is related to caste dominance; what accounts for the failure of technological innovations to catch on; how power in rural society is an instrument to keep the poor in their place; the forms of resistance of the exploited— ranging from crime to political movements, etc. These are details of the micro-level that the big maps at the national scale cannot accommodate. Finally, the need to study ‘history from below’, the history of the history-less common man, demands that we address ourselves to regional, or what may even be called, microlevel history.

Regional and National As we have noted earlier, consciousness of regional identity and a kind of local patriotism played an important role in the development of regional history. We now turn to the question as to how that consciousness relates with national consciousness and how regional history relates with the history of the larger entity of which it is a part. The point that needs to be made is that the term ‘regional history’ posits or assumes a larger entity, called ‘national history’. This, logically speaking, means that there was no such thing as national history before; there was only regional history. Almost all history was, in spatial coverage, regional. Such histories were limited spatially, but epistemologically they were not limited, because regional history occupied the whole notional space, ‘history’. We need not pursue here this train of logic. All that needs to be stated is that at one time, almost all history was about regions, without being conceived of as ‘regional history’. It was the notion of a ‘nation’ with territoriality which created, in some societies, the notion of a ‘region’ as a part of that larger territory. This leads us to the nationalist discourse of Indian civilization. It was this discursive tradition which moulded a new concept of the relationship between regional and national histories, between Bengali and Indian histories. As regards



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consciousness of regional identity, there is no need to elaborate the point about the multiplicity of identities, a point which Amartya Sen has made already.2 Regional identity is only one of the many identities struggling for priority and recognition. The nationalist ideologues of the twentieth century developed a discourse of civilization which made the conceptual leap from regional histories to a national history thinkable. Thanks to government propaganda and the political exploitation of the idea of ‘Indian national unity’, we today tend to take it for granted. However, the idea that the civilization of India unites diversities, including various regional differences, began to play an important role from about the beginning of the last century. We shall, for the present, limit ourselves to some landmarks in the development of this discourse of civilization developed by the makers of the nationalist ideology, to remind our readers of the relationship between conceptions of the regional and the national. When I try to trace the origins of the idea of the dichotomy between region and nation, of ‘the unity in diversity’ of the Indian civilization, one of the earliest expositions of it, I find, is in Bengal— particularly in the writings of Rabindranath Tagore at the turn of the century. In 1902, Tagore wrote a remarkable essay which he republished in expanded versions in 1905 and 1908, i.e. during the Swadeshi or anti-partition agitation in Bengal. It is, perhaps, not fortuitous that Tagore’s formulation of the unity of Indian civilization developed in the turbulent Swadeshi movement.8 In 1902, Tagore wrote: We can see that the aim of Bharatbarsha has always been to establish unity amidst differences (or diversities), to bring to a convergence different paths, and to internalize within her soul the unity of the individual parts, that is to say, to comprehend the inner union between externally perceptible differences without eliminating the uniqueness of each element…. Bharatbarsha has endeavoured to tie up and accommodate in its appropriate place such differences. You cannot legislate unity into existence. Elements which cannot assimilate need to be recognized and put in their appropriate separate places.  .  .  . Bharatbarsha knew the secret of this mode of unification.  .  .  . Bharatbarsha limited the conflict between opposing and competing elements in society by keeping them separate and at the same time engaged in a common task that brought diverse elements together…9

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In 1909, Gandhi, not yet known as the Mahatma, focused upon the unity of Indian civilization in his first political tract, Hind Swaraj.10 At the very beginning of this work, he asks, ‘What is civilization?’, and then continues to talk about civilization, without saying much about the idea that British rule had unified India. A notable feature of the Hind Swaraj is that Gandhi speaks throughout this book of the Indian civilization, not of the Hindu civilization. Although many of the concepts and values he expounds form a part of Hindu civilization, the concept of ‘Indian civilization’ is never substituted with ‘Hindu culture or civilization’ because for Gandhi, India had ‘the faculty of assimilation’. Among professional historians, perhaps the earliest to postulate a supra-regional unity in civilizational terms was Radha Kumud Mookerji, in a work founded on ancient Indian texts, The Fundamental Unity of India in 1914, published earlier as an essay in 1909.11 However, the most popular exposition of the nationalist stance on the issue of India’s unity as a civilization was the one authored by Jawaharlal Nehru in the Ahmednagar Fort Jail in 1944, later published as The Discovery of India. Though the idea of the civilizational unity of India is a major theme in this work, what Tagore in 1902 or Gandhi in 1909 wrote about with confidence as an enduring fact of Indian history, Nehru writes of as a dream, something to be aspired for. That is the shift that has occurred between the perspective of the first decade of the twentieth century and that of the 1940s when Nehru wrote of India’s civilizational unity. The notion of the syncretic and unifying nature of Indian civilization also played a formative role in determining the relationship between what came to be seen as Bengal’s regional history and the history of India as a whole. The dialogue and debates between these two perspectives, regional and national, continued through the twentieth century and continue to this day. In a crucial moment in the growth of Indian historiography and the advance of India towards nationhood, this civilizational discourse made the idea of national history thinkable, and thus, regional history was placed in the context of its relationship with national history. We are witnessing in our times the development of regionalism as a political force in a direction that might threaten the integrity and unity of the larger entity of which each region is a part. We hope that historians today



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will address themselves to the task of examining that relationship between the part and the whole, the regional and the national, in the light of the developments outlined earlier.

Consciousness of Bengali Identity and History Arguably, the project for the construction of a history of Bengal in modern times originated with the emergence of a new consciousness of Bengali identity, which was sometimes identified as new Bengali patriotism, in the early decades of the twentieth century. Some of the major exponents of this new Bengali patriotism were the politician Chittaranjan Das (1870–1925), the litterateur Pramathanath Chaudhuri (1868–1946), the linguist Suniti Kumar Chatterji (1890– 1977), and the scientist Sir Prafulla Chandra Ray (1861–1944). Pramathanath Chaudhuri, the founder of new Bengal journalism propagating the idea of ‘Bengali patriotism’, declared: ‘If you charge me with Bengali patriotism I will not deny the charge’. In his journal Sabuj Patra, he stated: National consciousness was something that everyone talked about in the Swadeshi era [i.e. 1906–7]. In those days our people understood this only in its political sense. In those days, what we meant by consciousness of ourselves was an awareness of our deplorable lack of independence. Needless to say, in that narrow sense the identity consciousness as an Indian and as a Bengali is one and the same thing.12

Chaudhuri believed that there was a kind of unity in the solidarity of prisoners, but that unity was different from the unity of free men or the unity aspired for in the freedom struggle. This approach to the concept of unity of Bengal, within a larger notion of Indian unity, gave rise to new thinking about the history of Bengal. In his brief political career, Chittaranjan Das upheld an ideal of a federalist reconstitution of India, in which Bengal would be one of several constituent elements but would retain her cultural identity. Das’s role as the co-founder of the Swaraj Party along with Motilal Nehru is well known, but much less is known of his contribution to a kind of provincial solidarity which he sometimes described as Bengali patriotism. In the last ten years of his life, Das led the provincial

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political conference to form a strong Bengal-centred lobby and to develop an image of Bengal as a distinctive historical entity. Though it might have been admired as a piece of scholarship—did not Amit Ray in Tagore’s Shesher Kavita hold it in his hands?—the importance of Suniti Kumar Chatterji’s work on the Bengali language, is apparent only in retrospect. The more widely read authors were those who laid the basis for the construction of a collective identity by configuring a history of the Bengali people. Ramaprasad Chanda’s (1873–1942) work on Bengal’s ruling dynasties in the pre-Muslim period, Gauda-raj-mala (1912), Akshay Kumar Maitreya’s (1861– 1930) epigraphic research in Gauda-lekha-mala (1912), Rakhaldas Bannerji’s (1885–1930) history of Bengal (volumes I and II in 1915 and 1917, respectively), and the Marathi author who wrote in the Bengali language, Sakharam Ganesh Deuskar (1869–1912), laid the basis on which historiography developed in the Bengali language from the 1920s. Among others, Haraprasad Sastri (1853–1931), who discovered in Nepal the earliest Bengali manuscripts called the Charyapadas (1912); Dinesh Chandra Sen (1866–1939), Jogesh Chandra Ray (1859–1956), S. Wajed Ali (1890–1951), and Muhammad Shahidullah (1885–1969), played important roles in locating the language and history of Bengal in the historical tradition to give a certain ‘body’ to the consciousness of regional identity. Also notable are institutional efforts in this direction. Akshay Kumar Maitreya, along with Ramaprasad Chanda—who taught ancient Indian history and anthropology at Calcutta University from 1919, as well as R.G. Basak, Ghulam Yazdani, and many younger scholars who founded the Varendra Research Society in 1910 come immediately to mind. The Bangiya Sahitya Parishad played a part in collecting and publishing old manuscripts and folk ballads. The annual Bangiya Sahitya Sammelan in the 1920s had a separate section on history, a forum for the presentation of essays by Bengal historians. Dinesh Chandra Sen, who also taught at the University of Calcutta, published, between 1923 and 1932, a collection of old Bengal ballads in eight volumes. The ‘recognition’ of Bengali by the University of Calcutta, during the Vice-Chancellorship (1906–14) of Sir Asutosh Mookerjee (1864–1924), was itself a landmark. In 1921, Mookerjee took the initiative to change the rules of ‘matriculation’



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(i.e. the final school examination and commencement of undergraduate education) to allow students the option of choosing the mother tongue in place of English as the medium of instruction and examination; in 1932, this effort finally succeeded. 13 In the meanwhile, the ‘Department of Indian Vernaculars’, created in 1925, provided space for the teaching of Bengali in postgraduate studies. The foundation of the University of Dhaka in 1921 provided a second nucleus of advanced studies and the lead in Bengal studies was taken by Muhammad Shahidullah. These were some of the institutional developments which fed the stream of historical and cultural studies of Bengal around the twenties. In the late nineteenth century, Bankim Chandra Chatterjee had rued the fact that the Bengali people were unaware of their past, that they lacked a sense of the historical and had neglected to write their own history. Maitreya, in his ‘Preface’ to Ramaprasad Chanda’s work on the dynastic history of Bengal, quoted Bankim to state that the attempt of the English to write the history of Bengal only highlighted but did not exhaust the possibilities of further research, which was now the responsibility of the Bengalis: ‘Those who have from misty antiquity, generation after generation, made this their homeland, those who have arrived at their present state through many twists and turns of history, those are the people who can relate to the history of this country most intimately.’14 At the same time, Maitreya was careful to avoid the sort of parochialism that characterized the writings of some of his contemporaries. He profusely acknowledged the path-breaking work of A. Cunningham, W.W. Hunter, Heinrich Blochmann et al., and spoke of the need to locate Bengal’s history in a larger perspective. That Bengal has been the meeting place of many cultures and traditions, the focus of synthesis of many apparently contrary outlooks, a region which has seen fascinating endeavours towards assertion of its identity—is known to us in many ways…. The history of the Bengali people cannot be comprehended if one limits oneself to the chronicle of what happened within the boundaries of Bengal in an isolated manner. What has been the history of Bengal is also an aspect of the history of mankind.15

These are noble sentiments, for departure from such norms was not unknown, particularly in respect of ‘Muslim rule’ in Bengal.

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However, Maitreya’s injunction echoes a trend of thinking to which we now turn. While we have so far argued that a kind of ‘Bengali patriotism’ was ascendant in the second and third decades of the last century, two qualifications need to be made. The first is about the iconization of Mother Bengal, which had, in fact, taken place much earlier— Bankim Chandra’s Vande Mataram was addressed to her and to no other entity—and the Swadeshi era witnessed her worship on a scale unknown in India till then. Moreover, in the popular theatre, dramatists hailed her and poets and kabiwallahs (folk balladiers) sang her praise. What was new in the second and third decades of the last century was a political case being made for Bengali patriotism, along with an intellectual effort to give a ‘body’ to it with cultural, historical, and linguistic arguments to establish the Bengali identity.16 A different kind of contribution towards the same end came from the scientist and social thinker Sir Prafulla Chandra Ray, who believed that the Bengali ethnic identity was endangered and that the Bengalis were falling back as compared to other ethnic groups in Calcutta who, he felt, were leading the field in industrial production and commercial businesses. This message is conveyed in the many pamphlets and tracts he wrote in the 1910s and 1920s: ‘The Bengali Intellect and its Abuse’ (1910, reprinted in 1920 and 1927), ‘The Future Livelihood of the Bengalee Youth,’ ‘The Economic Problem: What is the Position of the Bengalee People?’(1910), ‘The Internal and External Obstacles to Nation-building’ (1921), and ‘The Problem of Livelihood’ (1928).17 The idea of a Bengali identity, Chaudhuri’s new Bengali patriotism, and Sir P.C. Ray’s warning that the Bengali identity itself was endangered, were thought-trends which complemented an intellectual environment that began to bring into existence the efflorescence of Bengali culture. Apart from some obvious elements in the nationalist ideology promoting anti-imperialist thought-trends, a feature of the Bengali mind was the effort to incorporate in Bengali culture a ‘scientific’ approach, which gave rise to an outlook that emphasized Bengal’s distinctiveness. Most notably, the National Council of Education in Bengal in their founding document, the Memorandum of Association, declared (1905) that the promotion of scientific thinking was a major aim of nationalist education in Bengal. The history of the Dawn



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Society, their journal and associated institution, and movements like the Indian Association for the Cultivation of Science, founded by Dr Mahendralal Sarkar, amply justify such an interpretation. We mentioned, at the beginning of this ‘Introduction’, the early efforts of Vidyasagar and his contemporaries to present a comprehensive history of modern Bengal, particularly in their writings in the Bengali language. Among the students of Hindu College from 1817 and particularly from 1826, when Henry Louis Vivian Derozio began to teach, there developed a new intellectual movement in Calcutta, known as the ‘Young Bengal’ group. This group of the young middle-class alumni of the college formed the Society for the Acquisition of General Knowledge (SAGK), wrote extensively on history and took up the task of responding to foreign critics of Indian history and civilization. Consider, for instance, the presentation made by Baboo Peary Chand Mitra at the meeting of this association on 8 September 1841 on ‘the State of Hindoostan under the Hindoos’.18 Mitra particularly contested the view that the monarch in India possessed all the land, an error replicated from Francois Bernier through James Mill to Karl Marx. Mitra’s argument was founded upon the authority of H.H. Wilson (in his recent critical edition of Mill’s History of India) and Mountstuart Elphinstone, as well as original documents of the East India Company. Or consider Gobinda Chandra Sen, 19 writing in 1840 about the ‘History of India’, where he states: ‘In this country … we do not have any books narrating the events of history. But now people desire to know the history of our own native land and that is why we urgently need today books on history.’20 Many other members of the SAGK contributed in the same vein, and there developed a demand for such introductory historical works in the Bengali language. Hence, the comprehensive plan to make the substance of Ropes Letherbridge’s An Easy Introduction to the History and Geography of Bengal (published in 1874–5) accessible to Bengali readers. Meanwhile, more significant advances in historical knowledge were being made. Maitreya published a volume titled Sirajud-daula (1897), and brought out a historical journal called Aitihasik Chitra (1899). The Riaz-us-Salatin was translated by Rampran Gupta (1905). The Barendra Anusandhan Samity, founded to cultivate regional history (1910), published Chanda’s Gauda-raj-mala and

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Maitreya’s Gauda-lekha-mala (1911–12). In the early decades of the twentieth century, regional history flourished, prompting Prabodh Chandra Sen to remark that, ‘in the field of history writing in Bengal there appeared suddenly a galaxy of authors: Rajanikanta (Gupta), Haraprasad (Shastri), Akshay Kumar (Maitreya), Ramaprasad (Chanda), Rakhaldas (Bandyopadhyay).’21 Further, a new genre of subregional history enlarged Bengal’s history to include detailed studies of Murshidabad, Jessore, Khulna, Dhaka, Varendrabhumi, Gauda, Pabna, Vishnupur, Rajshahi, Tripura, etc. Local history of this kind became a part of the literary activities of the Bengali intelligentsia, and various literary societies nursed local history by organizing in their annual conventions a section on local history.

Archives and Regional History The development of British Indian archival practices also deeply affected the cultivation and writing of regional history. In British India, modern archives were developed by the state. No doubt this aided historical research, but it also led to a marginalization of local history and to its subordination to the state-centred perspective of the imperial state. In the archivization process, the history of the imperial state naturally overshadowed history as it was perceived in the regions and localities. Thus, the growth of the state archives in British India meant the growth of a body of sources of historical knowledge which focused on the imperial state to the detriment of the autonomous histories of the localities and regions. Sir William Hunter, a leading Civil Servant in Bengal and a great enthusiast and protagonist for upholding regional history and the importance of regional records, became sceptical of the utility of records in his old age. In 1871, in response to the Government of India’s question whether he, an authority on regional records, recommended the expansion of the government’s archives, Hunter replied that preservation of all records was unnecessary. He argued that the state of intellectual advancement in India did not justify the creation of a Central Record Office or government archives as the ‘object of a Central State Paper Office is to render important historical documents available to the public’ but so far as his experience went,



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there was no class of men of letters and leisure in Calcutta who could put such a Central Office to good use. ‘Writers of considerable ability are to be found both in the capital and throughout the rural districts; but they constitute a very small body, and their talents are devoted to the Press or other forms of current literature, rather than to those graver researches which a State Paper Office in a European capital subserves.’22 Hunter’s opinion was, however, set aside twenty years later when the Government of India decided to set up the Imperial Records Department in 1891.23 A top item in the archiving agenda was, obviously, the centralization of all Government of India records at one site in the new capital, New Delhi. The construction of the building for the Imperial Record Office was completed in 1926. It was an ideal location, compared to the half-a-dozen rooms given to the Imperial Records Department in the Writers’ Building, i.e. the Imperial Secretariat in Calcutta, though it took an inordinate amount of time to shift the records to the new building in New Delhi from where they had been in Calcutta since the eighteenth century. Thus, it was only in the last ten years of British rule in India that the Imperial Records Department, with all the Indian records in its archives, was able to function in a manner appropriate to its role. A byproduct of this exercise should have been the creation of a Provincial Records Office separately, for Bengal, to accommodate the Presidency records after their separation from the Government of India records. However, no effort was made towards creating a proper Provincial Record Office of the type that Madras and Bombay possessed till the late 1940s. This was acknowledged by the Governor of Bengal, Lord Lytton, while welcoming the Indian Historical Records Commission to its session in Calcutta in 1923.24

Structuration and Periodization of the Present Volumes After numerous discussions between the editor, the Working Committee and most of the authors contributing to the book now before the readers, the following plan emerged. In the first place, it was decided to break away from the tradition set not only in the volumes edited by R.C. Majumdar and J.N. Sarkar (1943–8), and N.K. Sinha

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(1961–7), but also the majority of books published on the history of modern Bengal before or after Independence. Earlier it was taken for granted that Bengal history could be divided into ancient, medieval, and modern, corresponding to what are known in European history as the ancient, medieval, and modern periods. This tripartite division of history is derived from James Mill’s History of India, which left a deep impression on Indian colonial historiography, and later colonial historians who came after Mill followed his example. In keeping with this trend, Sarkar and Majumdar took 1757 as a landmark (‘end of Muslim rule’) and Sinha accepted 1757 as the initial year for his volume on modern Bengal, while deciding on 1905 as the end point. Today, we consider this as inappropriate because there is an inherent communal approach in identifying a period as Hindu or Muslim or British. Further, this mode of periodization is also questionable, because it takes for granted an equivalence between the British period and modernity. We have, therefore, decided to begin our history of modern Bengal from the beginning of the eighteenth century, because a number of important historical landmarks occurred about that time—the transfer of the capital of Bengal from Dhaka to Murshidabad by the Nawabi regime,25 the rise of Murshid Quli Khan, the death of Emperor Aurangzeb, etc. In contrast to the turmoil in most other parts of India, this period in Bengal was marked by the neat succession of Nawabs (Murshid Quli Khan, Subedar, 1717–27; Sujauddin Muhammad Khan, 1727–39; Sarfaraz, 1739–40; Aliwardi Khan, 1740–56; Siraj-ud-Daula, 1756–87). Further, we consider the eighteenth century as an important historical category or a distinct period in Indian history, though it is now the subject of much controversy, initiated by the so-called revisionist historians of the Cambridge school, such as Christopher Bayly and his followers. As regards the decision to terminate Volume I (on the eighteenth century) with the year 1793 (which is, of course, as arbitrary as any other choice we might have made), our argument is that 1793 and the Permanent Zamindari Settlement in Bengal marked the culmination of a period of experimentation in revenue and in other aspects of administration by the East India Company. The middle period, 1793 to 1905, has the much-acclaimed Bengal Renaissance at its core, and revolves around Rammohun Roy, the Derozians, the Tagores, and other iconic figures. We break off with the Partition of Bengal in 1905,



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and the main theme of Volume III is the anti-imperialist struggle, the Swadeshi movement onwards. The foundation of the Indian Republic and the adoption of the Constitution may be considered an appropriate landmark to conclude our last volume. To sum up, we have divided our historical framework to form three thematically distinct periods, the themes being the decline and fall of the Nawabi regime in Bengal and the remaking of Bengal’s polity in Volume I (1700–93), the reawakening of Bengal in Volume II (1793–1905), and the freedom struggle against British Raj (1905–50) in Volume III. In Volume I, there are some chapters that aim to cross the usually accepted pattern of periodization, a natural and unavoidable move. Environmental history, which aims to lay down the basic parameters, is one such turn (Ranjan Chakrabarti). Another is the essay by Rila Mukherjee on trade beyond the borders of Bengal, which attempts to determine how Bengal was situated in the interoceanic trade network. Kaushik Roy attempts something similar in trying to show how historians situate Bengal in the overall history of European ascendancy in South Asia in the eighteenth century, and the role of military power of the Indian and foreign players in Bengal politics. At the level of specialized studies of some aspects of Bengal in this volume, we have a set of essays on European companies: on the French in Bengal (Aniruddha Ray), on the Dutch in Bengal (Rila Mukherjee), and on internal trade and markets in Bengal and the rise of the English East India Company (Sudipta Sen). Another set of essays in this volume focuses upon trade, urbanization and de-urbanization in eighteenth-century Bengal (Aniruddha Ray and Soumitra Sreemani); the rise and growth of Calcutta between 1750 and 1850 (Soumitra Sreemani); and the wide ranging theme of the English East India Company’s external trade (Sushil Chaudhury). Some chapters also deal with long-range issues, beyond the eighteenth century, such as Arun Bandopadhyay’s essay on demography, man, and nature in Bengal; environmental history and a tale of rivers (Ranjan Chakrabarti); Islam in early eighteenthcentury Bengal (Richard M. Eaton); and the Muslim literati and their social, political, and religious thoughts in eighteenth-century Bengal (Syed Ejaz Hussain). Specialized chapters can be found on zamindars of Bengal (John R. McLane); history and historiography of Bengal, 1700–1757 (Syed Ejaz Hussain); social banditry in Bengal, 1757–1857

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(Ranjit Sen); and on the banking and credit system in eighteenthcentury Bengal (Abhik R. Ray). Finally, there is the analysis of arts, architecture, and iconography in early modern Bengal (Ratnabali Chatterjee and Asok Kumar Das). In Volume II, two central themes emerge. The first is the story of the Renaissance which begins with chapters on Rammohun Roy and his times (Bruce Robertson), on the Derozians, the Tagores, and Vidyasagar (Rosinka Chaudhuri, Brian Hatcher), together with a chapter on religious thought and social reform in nineteenthcentury Bengal (Amiya Prosad Sen). The other important theme is the colonialization of the economy, comprising a study of the labour-intensive industries of Bengal (Amiya K. Bagchi). In keeping with the practice in recent historical writings on modern Bengal, this volume is rich in social and cultural history. For instance, it has essays on the spread of urbanization and the growth of Calcutta as a metropolis in the nineteenth century (Kaustubh Mani Sengupta); a wide ranging survey of the growth and development of the middleclass intelligentsia (Prasanta Ray); and the examination of popular culture at the level of the subaltern classes (Sumanta Banerjee). The relatively new area of enquiry in social history is gender history, and we have a very wide-ranging essay on that theme in Volume II (Tanika Sarkar) which will be followed by more detailed studies in the next volume by other scholars. Earlier histories of Bengal, by Sarkar and Majumdar and by Sinha, contained a very cursory treatment of literature, but in the present volumes, we have extensive accounts of Bengali journalism in the early nineteenth century (Swapan Basu); nationalism and communism in Bengali literature (Anuradha Roy); natyasahitya (Devajit Bandyopadhyay); and the so-called high literature (Pabitra Sarkar), and still, we think that we could have given more space to literature. Occasionally breaking away from the periodization of the earlier scheme, in Volume II, we have placed one chapter that may be said to be a bridge chapter. That is on the impact of the uprising of 1857 in Bengal which, so to speak, takes us back to the armed resistance against the English and other East India Companies, so that while the story of the eighteenth-century armed resistance is told by Kaushik Roy in Volume I, Subhas Ranjan Chakraborty tells here the story of the resistance of 1857.



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A separate series of chapters has been designed to address the socio-economic basis of the agrarian economy that produced the surplus expended upon military ventures and foreign trade expansion. These chapters cover important themes such as the peasant question in middle-class consciousness in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries (Bipasha Raha); Landed Proprietorship and the evolution of Land Legislation in Colonial Bengal (Nariaki Nakazato); agrarian relations and peasant economy in Bengal (Arun Bandopadhyay); the politics and civil society of early-twentiethcentury Bengal (Rajat Kanta Ray); on the idea of justice and the evolution of the Calcutta High Court, 1862–1950 (Mahua Sarkar); on Hindu Law (Nandini Bhattacharyya-Panda); and on the police and the surveillance system in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries (Rajsekhar Basu). A glance at these chapters will immediately show the difference between the earlier approach emphasizing administrative history and the set of questions addressed by a new generation of younger scholars in recent times. This is equally true of a whole genre of political history represented here by the chapter on Bengal politics in relation to communalism (Suranjan Das). A major narrative that develops in Volume II concerns castes. We have a detailed survey (Ajit Kumar Danda) and a chapter on demographic trends in Western Bengal, 1881–1951 (Saswata Ghosh and Gorky Chakraborty). This theme is further developed in Volume III: Caste and politics in Bengal in late nineteenth and early twentieth century (Sekhar Bandyopadhyay); on the composite society of rural Bengal consisting of Muslims (Ranjit Kumar Bhattacharyya), and on Bengali Muslims through literature (Amit Dey). There is a comprehensive survey of the marginal communities, often perceived as tribal people in the chapter on the Adivasi quest for a new culture in colonial Bengal, 1855–1932 (Binay Bhushan Chaudhuri). Themes like these on social structure and movements did not meet with adequate examination and narrativization in earlier histories. In the treatment of these subjects in our volume, we get away from the administrative history of the days of W.K. Firminger and Ramsbotham to a new approach, close to the question of the location of political power, the relationship between social structures and ability to exercise political power together with notions concerning legal sovereignty and political hegemony.

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A departure from the earlier pattern of comprehensive history edited by Sarkar and Majumdar and by Sinha is that the present book emphasizes ideology and ideational history. For instance, chapters on science and technology (Deepak Kumar); medicinal knowledge systems and public health in modern Bengal (Sujata Mukherjee); entrepreneurship in twentieth-century Bengal (Amit Bhattacharyya); the Asiatic Society’s project on the science of man (Bishnupriya Basak); art movements, nationalism, and trends in the Bengal School at Santiniketan (R. Siva Kumar); as well as ideology and identity issues in the writings of the Muslim intelligentsia (Tazeen M. Murshid)—are included in this series. Two chapters which analyse the socio-cultural aspects of this period are a study of the Hindi-speaking people of Kolkata (Hitendra K. Patel) and the sartorial preferences of the elite (Chitta Panda). The narrative of the freedom struggle and anticipations of freedom constitute our main story in Volume III. The first issue concerns nationalist and communalist politics from the Partition of Bengal in 1905 to the second Partition of 1947. The authors include a pioneer in the field, Sumit Sarkar (on Bengal Partition 1905), along with Rajat Kanta Ray, as also Harun-Or-Rashid, Bidyut Chakrabarty, Suranjan Das, Nirban Basu, and others. The second major theme in Volume III is continuity and progress in the economic colonization of Bengal, the collection of resources for deepening and broadening the base of exploitation in a part of India where the colonial impact lasted longest and affected the economy most deeply. The authors in this section include Binay Bhushan Chaudhuri and Amit Bhattacharyya. Another dimension is added through the chapters addressing economic and social conflict in twentieth-century Bengal by Prasanta Ray, Sekhar Bandyopadhyay, and Bipasha Raha. Finally, we have in Volume III a fourth set of essays which take us into the interior of the household, the domain of Hindu and Muslim bhadramahila and the lives of labouring women explored by Sonia Nishat Amin, Aparajita Sengupta, and Samita Sen. The chapters in these three volumes fall into three broad categories in terms of their functionality. First, there are three sets of chapters that provide what many participants/scholars described as ‘the main narrative voice’. Second, there are some special chapters of focused research on certain topics where recent research has advanced



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knowledge, or topics which have acquired significance in association with research on wider connected fields. A third type of chapter comprises writings which may be classified as parametric statements which do not serve any narrative purpose but provide coverage of the entire field and thus constitute the background. For instance, demography of the entire territory is surveyed providing data on population, which had been conspicuously missing in the earlier series edited by Sarkar and Sinha; a similar purpose was intended to be served by chapters commissioned on the environmental history of the Bengal delta region. The point to bear in mind is that we will miss the plot altogether if we fail to identify the chief object of our study: the conflict between the freedom struggle and the colonization of Bengal. Since the present set of volumes will inevitably be compared with the two volumes of the History of Bengal (Sarkar and Majumdar) and the History of Modern Bengal (Sinha) we need to emphasize the ways in which we differ from the earlier set of authors. As regards the strategy adopted in this volume, as any practitioner of the art of history writing would surmise, our strategy differs from author to author, from theme to theme. When one is dealing with basic and long-term trends such as demography, or the relationship between man and nature, or the vast planetary perspective of interoceanic trade, or with environmental development over centuries, our authors have been compelled to adopt a strategy different from that of other authors who deal with issues on encounters in bread and butter histories of politics and administration. Our historians of literary creativity, economic transactions, and sociological formations display a perspective that is attuned to their theme, and indeed some of them do not belong to the conventionally defined discipline of history at all. It is possible that the failure of our historians to respond to the need for specialization discipline-wise, in other words, our failure to be sufficiently multidisciplinary, has made it difficult for us to repeat the ‘comprehensive’ exercises undertaken earlier by Majumdar and Sarkar and by Sinha. Our use of the term ‘comprehensive’ is intended to capture the multidisciplinary dimensions of many scholars’ historical research represented in the present volumes. At this point, it is also important to note a basic difference which Tagore observed between European style historical narratives and India’s historical memory. Tagore argued that the European

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civilization was unlike that of India in so far as it elevated state power to a high level so that the driving force of civilization resides in state power (raj-shakti) while in India it rests in the social order (samaja). Decades earlier, Bankim Chandra Chatterjee had complained that the British write a history even if it is to record their safari to shoot birds, but where are Indian historians, he queried. 26 Expressing similar sentiments, Tagore states that no doubt, India did not have the tradition of writing history as did, for example, Greece and Rome. But at the same time, he pointed out, there was a historical consciousness among the Rajputs, the Sikhs, and the Marathas from the time of Shivaji (Tagore mentions the bakhars). These exceptions show that whenever there developed a political community with a sense of purpose, a historical consciousness also developed to bring together different isolates. Tagore explicitly makes a distinction here between religious and political communities, and his examples make it clear that he means the political community as the site of such a process of development of historical consciousness. This is not too distant from the well-known Hegelian viewpoint that the state alone has history. Be that as it may, Tagore’s argument was that he saw a new national awakening in India in recent years, which inspired a new interest in the history of India. There had developed a ‘hunger for history’, which suggested that ‘the Congress has not merely been memorializing the rulers year after year without any result— Congress has also … planted the seed of a new consciousness in our minds.’ 27

Concluding Reflections on the Bengal History Project Looking back at the gestation of this project, I recall that in September 2005 the Council of the Asiatic Society, Kolkata, considered my proposal for a new comprehensive history of Bengal, which I put forward in my capacity as Council Member nominated by the Government of India. Despite the consensus in the Council in favour of this project, the execution of its resolution was postponed since I was immediately thereafter appointed as Chairman, Indian Council of Historical Research (2007–11) by the Government of India. Subsequently, the Council resolved, again at my request, to



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revive the project, and on 25 November 2016, a Committee was set up, with me as editor and an Advisory Committee (whose names are listed in the Acknowledgements). As editor, I refused to accept any remuneration and a token honorarium has been paid to about sixty distinguished contributors. Thus, this project is, so far as the contributors and editor are concerned, a labour of love. My own humble contribution to the history of Bengal has appeared in my earlier publications and I have not felt compelled to intrude in this volume as a contributor. My contribution to this volume has been by way of emphasizing certain themes of research. It is interesting to reflect upon some other changes which readers will perceive in our present set of volumes, as compared to the earlier comprehensive histories of Sarkar, Sinha, and Sirajul Islam. To begin with, the impediments to rapid production due to slow movement of manuscripts, proof sheets, copy-editors’ corrections, communication between editors and authors, etc., which had earlier slowed down the production process, have been replaced with modern technologies of electronic communication such as electronic mails and other rapid communication devices that have greatly reduced the time taken in the journey of the book from the desk of the editor and author to its final printed form. The second significant change is in respect of the composition of the intellectual community of professional historians and the general body of readers. In the 1940s or the 1960s, and even upto 1980s, that community was more limited, and in a sense, indeed provincial in composition. The authors who collaborated with Sarkar and Majumdar, and Sinha were former students and colleagues of the senior historians or some local scholars, who took up editorial responsibility. With a global Indian diaspora the concerned community of intellectuals has undergone a sea change in the last two decades and now we find historians of Bengal operating from distant countries. In this volume, we have authors working in England, USA, Japan, Bangladesh, New Zealand, etc., and no list of specialists on Bengal history would be complete without them. This internationalization distinguishes the current situation and the present set of volumes from the volumes produced before the diaspora of Bengal and Bengal intelligentsia was exposed to the global academic atmosphere in the second half of the twentieth century.

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Also, whereas not one author in the earlier series of volumes was a woman, there is a substantial representation of that gender in the present three volumes. Finally, the representation of the younger generation of scholars was quite inadequate in the earlier volumes. Another unique feature of the present three volumes is the inclusion of a consolidated bibliography, and we thank Amiya Kumar Baul of Jadavpur University for having undertaken that task. As editors, Majumdar, Sarkar, and Sinha all complained of the lack of support they received from prospective contributors and this, they say, forced them to undertake a larger share of the task of producing their volumes. For example, Sarkar writes that after chapters had been allotted to different scholars ‘some of them after wavering declined the task and others were found to be habitually incapable of writing their promised chapters within the time limit, or indeed ever at all. So at last the painful truth dawned upon the mind of the editor that he must personally shoulder the burden of writing the major portion, if this volume was to be completed within his lifetime.’28 Sinha’s experience was not much better, because some of his authors declined to contribute ‘three or four years after they had agreed to write’ since they ‘perhaps thought of the project as my personal venture’.29 My experience, on the contrary, has been just the reverse, and I must record my deep gratitude to my professional colleagues in many countries and across generations who contributed to this volume at my request. Finally, the thought that crosses our mind as we reflect on our experience of writing a comprehensive history of modern Bengal is that we the authors, editors, and readers may see in that experience a reflection of our own evolving selves. Every generation of scholars looks at the work of the previous generation with a critical eye, and no doubt there will be worthwhile critiques of the present work as well. The achievement of Sarkar, Majumdar, and Sinha in 1948 and in 1967 was tremendous, considering the constraints under which they worked. At the same time historical scholarship has evolved since then. The community of Bengal historians which was somewhat parochial, has ceased to be so today; it is more open now to the stimulus of the theoretical discourses of our times; members of the community have an international profile now, having served in many academic institutions abroad; compared to earlier times,



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many more of the younger generation are counted among the leaders of the profession; the composition of the community has radically changed with a greater degree of gender equality and consequently less gender bias in their outlook. We have in India a tradition of valuing the Guru-shishya parampara and we believe that the work done by the earlier generation has enabled the present generation of scholars to reach the level of scholarship evinced in the writings in the present volumes. And we look forward to the work of the coming generations of scholars who will join the intellectual community devoted to the history of Bengal. In conclusion, I would like to acknowledge my indebtedness to all those who have helped me in putting together these three volumes of A Comprehensive History of Modern Bengal, 1700–1950. First and foremost, I would like to thank the Asiatic Society and its erudite Council Members for having nurtured this dream project right from the moment of its inception to its culmination. Those who have been pillars of support during this long journey merit my deepest gratitude, namely the members of the Working Committee (Dr Satyabrata Chakrabarti, General Secretary of  The Asiatic Society; Dr Ramkrishna Chatterjee, Coordinator of this project; and the other members of the Committee: Professor Subhas Ranjan Chakraborty, Professor Arun Bandopadhyay, and Dr Sujit Kumar Das, later joined by Professor Alok Kanti Bhaumick, and Professor Swapan Kumar Pramanick). Amiya Kumar Baul deserves special mention for his timely aid in maintaining communication with the contributors, collecting necessary data for me, providing assistance to several authors, as well as for single-handedly compiling a comprehensive bibliography on Bengal history, 1967–2017. Here I must mention an indebtedness of a different order altogether: being afflicted by a life-threatening illness in the last few months, I would not have been able to finish my work without the help of my wife Malabika, and the constant involvement of my daughter Ashidhara, with whom I engaged in numerous discussions concerning various relevant topics covered in these volumes. I have meticulously gone through each and every chapter, and I am confident that these three volumes of A Comprehensive History of Modern Bengal, 1700–1950 will be of everlasting value. I would like to reiterate my gratitude to all the authors who have enriched these

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volumes with their scholarly work. Having confided in them about my dreaded malady, I found that all of them made an exceptional effort to submit their chapters within the prescribed time. Due credit must be given to the enthusiastic response of the scholars who participated in the two Authors’ Conferences organized under the auspices of the Asiatic Society, one in February 2018, followed by another in August of the same year. I have had the satisfaction of seeing the whole set ready for print. Faced with intimations of mortality, I leave these three volumes as a legacy for future generations of students and scholars alike.

Notes   1. The texts of some of these works have recently been collected and reprinted from the original editions by Kamal Choudhuri, Banglar Itihas: Prachin Jug theke Ingrej Amol, Kolkata: Dey’s, 2006, pp. 55–349. I may add here that in the present ‘Introduction’, in order to present to the general reader a reader-friendly style, I have reduced the number of footnotes and other paraphernalia historians generally depend upon.   2. Sabyasachi Bhattacharya, Talking Back: The Idea of Civilization in the Indian Nationalist Discourse, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2011, pp. 97–9.   3. Kabikankan Mukundaram Chakrabarti probably wrote his Chandi Mangal around ad 1603–4; Sukumar Sen attributed it to mid-sixteenth century; according to the latest view, this wrong dating was due to a misplaced pushpika (Colophon). See, Khudiram Das, Kabikankan Chandi, Kolkata: Pustak Biponi, pp. xxii–iv; and ‘Dik Devata Bandana’, ibid., pp. 275–6.   4. It appears from Kabikankan Chandi that dik-bandana does not occur in some manuscripts, although it is part of the major manuscripts collated; it is also possible that another contemporary poet or copyist added ‘DikBandana’, but that leaves my argument unaffected.   5. Hari Deb Sharma, ‘Ray Mangal’ (MS in Visva-Bharati, Santiniketan), in Sahitya Prabeshika, ed. Panchanan Mandal, Calcutta: Visva-Bharati, 1960, pp. 7–8, and ‘Introduction’.   6. R.G. Fox, ed., Realm and Region in Traditional India, Durham: Duke University Press, 1967, pp. 197–223.  7. Amartya Sen, The Argumentative Indian, London: Penguin, 2005; see also, Sabyasachi Bhattacharya, ‘The Acquiescent Indian’ (review), Economic and Political Weekly, vol. 40, no. 41, 8 October 2005, pp. 4425–8; and Sen’s reply, vol. 41, no. 47, 25 November 2006, pp. 4877–86.   8. R. Tagore ‘Bharatbarsher Itihas’, Bangadarshan, 1902; reprinted in his collection of essay entitled Bharatbarsha, Calcutta, 1905 and Swadesh, Calcutta, 1908.



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  9. R. Tagore, ‘Bharatbarsher Itihas’, Bangadarshan, 1902; reprinted in Itihas, Calcutta: Visva-Bharati, 1955, pp. 10–12. 10. M.K. Gandhi, Hind Swaraj, chap. X, p. 28. 11. Radha Kumud Mookerji, The Fundamental Unity of India, London: Longmans Green and Co., 1914; he states in the prefatory statement to his book that he published the essay first in the journal of the Dawn Society, a nationalist organization which played a pioneering role in the National Education movement, which played an important role in questioning the colonial stereotypes about India; vide Sabyasachi Bhattacharya, Joseph Barar, Chinna Rao Yagati, eds., Educating the Nation, 1880–1920, New Delhi: Kanishka, 2003. 12. Pramathanath Chaudhuri, ‘Bengal Patriotism’, Sabuj Patra, Agrahayan, 1327 bs; tr. Sabyasachi Bhattacharya. 13. Calcutta University, Hundred Years of the University of Calcutta, Calcutta, Calcutta University Press, 1957, chaps.VI–VII. For a list of historical publi­ cations, see, Prabodh Chandra Sen, Bengal: A Historiographical Quest, Calcutta, 1995 (Bengali edn., 1953). There is no standard work on Bengal historiography. 14. Akshay K. Maitreya, ‘Preface’, Gauda-raj-mala, R.P. Chanda, Ist edn., Calcutta, 1912, repr., 1973, p. 19. 15. Ibid., p. 37. 16. Sabyasachi Bhattacharya, The Defining Moments in Bengal, 1920–1947, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2014, pp. 12–15. 17. Ibid., p. 9. 18. Gautam Chattopadhyay, ed., Awakening in Bengal in Early Nineteenth Century: Select Documents, Calcutta: Paschim Banga Itihas Samsad and Progressive, 1965; 2nd revd edn., 2018, pp. 192–238, 291–310, 357–89, 393–407. 19. Ibid., pp. 254–77. 20. Ibid., p. 254. 21. Prabodh Chandra Sen, Banglar Itihas Sadhana, Calcutta: Paschimbangha Bangla Akademi, 1970, p. 42. 22. Home Department, Public Branch, No. 649, W.W. Hunter to A.P. Howwell, Government of India, 17 November 1871, cited in Sabyasachi Bhattacharya, Archiving in British Raj, 1858–19747, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2019, pp. 21–2. 23. I draw upon my recently published work, Archiving in British Raj, 1858– 1947, New Delhi: National Archives of India and Oxford University Press, 2019, chap. II. 24. Indian Historical Records Commission Proceedings, 1923, Governor of Bengal, Lord Lytton’s address to IHRC. 25. In 1992, the Asiatic Society of Bangladesh published a set of volumes on History of Bangladesh, 1704–1971, edited by Sirajul Islam, where it was

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27. 28. 29.

A Comprehensive History of Modern Bengal stated that, ‘From regional point of view the shifting of the capital of subah Bangla from Dhaka to Murshidabad in 1704 was surely an event of great historical significance.’ Dhaka and East Bengal gradually languished and Murshidabad, as an administrative centre, emerged as the new imperial metropolis for eastern India. Bankim Chandra Chatterjee, ‘Banglar Itihas Sambandhe Koyekti Katha’ [A few words concerning the history of Bengal], Bangadarshan, 1281 bs (1874); in J.C. Bagal, ed., Bankim, Rachanavali, vol, II, Calcutta: Sahitya Samsad, 1959, pp. 336–40. R. Tagore, ‘Aitihasik Chitra’ [Images from History], Itihas, p. 140. Jadunath Sarkar, The History in Bengal, vol. II. Muslim Period, Delhi: B.R. Publishing Corporation, 1943, repr., 2003, p. viii. N.K. Sinha, ed., History of Bengal, 1757–1905, Calcutta: Calcutta University Press, 1967, p. vi.

1 Political History and Historiography of Bengal Subah, 1700–1757 Syed Ejaz Hussain

Our acquisition of India was made blindly. Nothing great that has ever been done by Englishmen was done so unintentionally, so accidentally, as the conquest of India. —j.r. seeley

B

engal subah, under the nawabi rule, occupied the position of centrality in South Asian history. It formed a distinctive and influential period in the entire history of the province. The nawabi rule released new forces that influenced almost all facets of political, economic, social and cultural life of India in general and Bengal (including Bangladesh) in particular. Complexities of the province of Bengal, both in theoretical and ideological prism as well as character of the government and changing structure of the society enthused the historians to write the history of the province in new and unprejudiced framework. But the main problem in writing the history of the province was that historians seldom allowed the materials to hold a dominating position; instead historians mostly dominated the materials, the result of which was that a history could not cross the boundary of historians’ own manufactured prism. This is well defined by Peter Hardy when he reviewed The History of Bengal, Vol. II: Muslim Period, 1200–1757 edited by Jadunath Sarkar, and said, ‘The history of medieval India will not come alive until historians begin to dominate their material and ask questions which would never have occurred to depositors of the evidence they utilize’.1 When

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history writings in India and especially in Bengal transited from the phase of narrative art to scientific inquiry it was Jadunath Sarkar who marshalled divergent sources available in Persian, Marathi, Assamese, English and some foreign languages like French as well as inscriptions, coins, official and private records. Besides, he linked the historical findings with his own ideology of interpreting history. In context of these two points, Rakhal Das Banerjee was to some extent considered as the predecessor of Jadunath Sarkar, but the former did not write anything on the Bengal Subah; his Banglar Itihas (in 2 volumes) in Bengali came to an end with independent sultans of Bengal in the sixteenth century. Jadunath Sarkar believed that writing political history was the first and foremost task of an Indian historian in his time. Although the rise and decline syndrome in respect of kingdoms and empires overshadowed his historical writings, he did not neglect Braudel’s longue durée concept and treated it as antithesis of traditional narrative history. He also believed in the inclusiveness of the Indian civilization and once commented, ‘We must not forget that modem Indian civilization is a composite daily growing product and not a mummy preserved in dry sand for four thousand years’.2 This essay is divided into two parts. Part I reviews in brief the history and historical literature based on some major Persian sources. While part II is a concise deliberation on the history and historiography primarily based on some major works published in English of the Bengal subah from the time of Murshid Quli Khan to Siraj-ud Daulah. This essay engages contents and methodology of some major works of both Persian and English.

History and Historical Literature Review of Major Persian Sources Persian sources for the history of Bengal for the Sultanate and the Mughal periods are almost nil. But from the eighteenth century onward, the Bengal Subah possesses a corpus of Persian sources of its own history. Murshid Quli Khan became the diwan of Bengal in 1700 and Siraj-ud Daulah was eliminated in 1757. Historical literature between these two intervening periods forms an interesting component for the study of the history of Bengal Subah. Naubahari-Murshid Quli Khan I was perhaps the earliest Persian literature



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composed in 1729 by Azad al-Husaini, a Persian scholar who wrote it in the hope of getting some pension from his patron Mirza Lutfullah, the Na’ib Nazim of Dhaka and son-in-law of Shujauddin Muhammad Khan. Naubahar-i-Murshid Quli Khan I is a small compendium consisting of 65 folios preserved in the Asiatic Society, Kolkata. A small portion of this manuscript, only nine pages, was translated in 1952 by Jadunath Sarkar in his work titled Nawabs of Bengal: Containing Azad al-Husaini’s Naubahar-i-Murshid Quli Khan I, Karam Ali’s Muzaffarnamah and Yusuf Ali’s Ahwal-i Mahabat Jang.3 Lutfullah, the Deputy Governor of Dhaka, was also known as Murshid Quli Khan II, hence the title of the work relates to him and not the first nawab of Bengal, Murshid Quli Khan. What is surprising is that the author, Azad al-Husaini has not written anything about himself. However, an interesting piece of information given by the author is that a brick road was for the first time constructed by Muhammad A’zam Shah at Dhaka in 1679, which says, During his [Muhammad A’zam Shah, 1678–9] governorship of Bengal, he lived at Decca for about one year, and issued certain ordinances whose effects are still to be seen. One of them was this: In Decca during the heavy rains, much mud used to collect and men, horses and elephants found travelling very difficult. A’zam Shah ordered a road to be laid with brick. In his time the road was so well laid that men could easily travel on it during the monsoons. The Bengalis who had never seen a brick paved road before, wondered at the sight and rejoiced. This practice continues even now, and many well-to-do men have laid brick-covered road.4

A rare and solitary work available in Persian is Muzaffarnamah, which covers the history of Bengal and Bihar from 1722 to 1772. It was written in 1772 by Karam Ali (born in 1736 at Murshidabad) who had a relationship with Alivardi Khan from his mother’s side. It was perhaps on account of this relationship that the author got a stipend of Rs.50—a month from the age of five and interestingly this stipend continued throughout his life along with his salary as he held various posts like Faujdar of Ghoraghat. The author’s father was appointed Waqia-navis (news writer) of the Chaklah Burdwan. This post continued in his family till 1772. The copy of Muzaffarnamah was discovered from a private collection of Qazi Abdul Wadud and reported by Syed Hasan Askari of Patna. Jadunath Sarkar translated

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a large portion of this manuscript into English. The work is named Muzaffarnamah owing to the reason that it is dedicated to Karam Ali’s patron, the diwan Muhammad Raza Khan whose title was Muzaffar Jang. Although the work starts from 1722, it narrates little about Murshid Quli Khan. The main focus of the work is Nawab Alivardi Khan and Siraj-ud Daulah. Political history in minute details such as various battles, Maratha attacks, Siraj-ud Daulah’s accession, etc., is well documented in this work. Apart from political history, some fragments of social life are also found in Muzaffarnamah. For instance, Ali has narrated about the celebration of the Holi festival in the Motijhil, the nawab’s palace. Karam Ali says, The Holi ceremony having been arranged in the garden of Motijhil, Shahamat Jang kept his dear brother there for seven days, enjoying the merriment. The author was present in the rejoicings. During the days of Holi merry-making, all the cisterns of the garden-which were more than 200 in number, were filled with coloured water, and on all sides heaps of amber and saffron raised their heads to the sky.  .  .  . More than five hundred fairy-like women in splendid robes and jewels, every morning and evening appeared from every corner of the garden in group.5

Karam Ali’s work is also important because he has not only praised, but criticized Alivardi Khan and Siraj-ud Daulah for committing blunders and mistakes. For instance, when Hasan Quli Khan, a prominent noble, was killed by Siraj on the order of Alivardi, the author commented, ‘.  .  .  from the day when Hasan Quli Khan’s life was ended, the blazing sun of Alivardi’s fortune began to decline’.6 Yusuf Ali Khan’s Tarikh-i Bangala-i Mahabat Jangi is a significant work on the history of Bengal. It was completed at Allahabad in 1763–4 (ah 1177). Six copies of this work are known and they are preserved in different libraries in India and abroad. Abdus Subhan, a well-known Persian scholar, edited the manuscript of The Asiatic Society, Kolkata and collated it with five other existing manuscripts and published it with a long introduction bearing critical evaluation and nature of the work, its contents, authenticity as well as a note on its author.7 The chief merit of Tarikh-i Bangala-i Mahabat Jangi is that its author was the eyewitness of all the descriptions he has given in this valuable work. He has supplied detailed historical accounts and several facts and information along with dates about Alivardi’s



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period of rule. Such details are not found in any other works. The value and authenticity of this work may be judged by the fact that it has been copied at many places by Ghulam Husain Tabatabai in his work Siyar-ul Mutakharin compiled in 1786. K.K. Datta who wrote Alivardi and His Times noted, ‘This work stands unique as a store-house of valuable historical details, gathered by the author from personal observation and experience’.8 Another reason to give credibility and authenticity to this work is that Yusuf Ali Khan was the son-in-law of Nawab Sarfraz Khan and his father, Ghulam Ali Khan, was a trusted and loyal companion of Alivardi Khan. In spite of this close relationship, he did not fail in his duty as an impartial historian. He criticized and pointed out shortcomings of both Sarfraz Khan and Alivardi.9 Syed Hasan Askari of Patna reported a new Persian manuscript Majmua-i Yusufi by the same author, i.e. Yusuf Ali Khan. Askari Saheb has informed that the work contains many topics of historical interests relating to Sultanate and Mughal rule in India, the Deccan history and the Safavid Empire. But much more important is the part of ‘the diary of itinerary of the compiler [Yusuf Ali] who accompanied Mir Kasim in his journey from Murshidabad to Patna and who gives an eye-witness accounts in a chronological manner, of the chief political events that happened in Eastern India between 1174 and 1180.  .  .’.10 Askari Saheb further notes, In the diary one gets not only the exact days and dates on which nawab Mir Kasim and the writer reached and halted at various places in their journey from Murshidabad to Birbhum, thence to Deogarh and to Jahagua (Bhagalpur), and from there to Patna via Monghyr, but also a description of the routes, the nature and names of streamlets and rivers that had to be crossed, the jungles and the hilly country that had to be passed, the distances in between the peculiarities of certain places, and the climatic conditions that had to be faced. Perhaps nowhere in a single place does one find mentioned of so many stations and stages, through woody jungles and hills as in this diary. No less important are the historical matters which one finds here.11

A new era in Persian history writing began in Bengal with Munshi Salimullah who wrote Tarikh-i Bangalah, a full-fledged history of Bengal in Persian in 1763. Now history began to be compiled on

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the patronage of the governors and high officials of the English East India Company. Earlier works like Naubahar-i-Murshid Quli Khani of Azad al-Husaini, Muzaffarnamah of Karam Ali and Tarikh-i Bangala-i Mahabat Jangi as well as Majmua-i Yusufi of Yusuf Ali Khan were written by their respective authors on their own. No nawab or diwan commissioned them to write any such works. But now the histories began to be written on the official direction and order of the EIC’s officers and governors. Henry Vansittart, the Governor of Fort William, Calcutta (1760–4) commissioned Salimullah to write the history of the Subah of Bengal. Salimullah covered the history of sixty years (1695–1756) up to the time of Alivardi Khan. His work appeared as a regional political history and it was useful for the British rulers. Twenty-five years later Francis Gladwin translated Tarikh-i Bangala into English in 1788 and named it A Narrative of the Transactions in Bengal during the Subahdarees of Azeem-usShan, Jaffar Khan, Shuja Khan, Sirafraz Khan and Alyvardy Khan. Salimullah’s Tarikh-i Bangalah was completed in 1763 and in the same year Tarikh-i Bangala-i Mahabat Jangi of Yusuf Ali Khan was compiled. But there is a great difference between the two works. Salimullah served as Munshi under Mir Ja’far, the Nazim of Bengal and under Henry Vansittart also. His work has covered the subahdari of Azim-ush Shan down to the subahdari of Alivardi Khan. This was not an eyewitness account of Salimullah. His sources were based on recollections of others. Whereas Yusuf Ali’s work is based on his own first-hand observation of the events he has narrated. That is why there are chronological defects in Salimullah’s work. However, the history from the time of Azim-ush Shan to Alivardi given by Salimullah is also important. The Nawab of Bengal certainly occupies the central position in his work, yet there are some references to various zamindaris, administrative, judicial, social, cultural and geographical aspects. Hindi vocabularies are frequently used in this work. Several copies of this work are available in India and abroad. Another influential work is Siyar-ul Mutakherin by Ghulam Husain Tabatabai (1728–81), son of Hedayat Ali Khan, who wrote it in 1781. Hedayat Ali Khan had served in several official positions, including as deputy governor or Nai’b Nazim of Bihar. Ghulam Husain Tabatabai also served the local notables of Bengal and Bihar as well as the British rulers in India in various capacities. He was



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the witness of many events and so his historical work is considered authentic and of great importance. Siyar-ul Mutakherin is a general history of India covering from 1707 to 1782 with a detailed account of Bengal and Oudh affairs. Ghulam Husain Tabatabai has narrated the events following the war of succession after the death of Aurangzeb, ruler of later Mughals, invasion of Nadir Shah, the fall of the mighty Mughal Empire, rise and decline of the nawabi rule in Bengal and Awadh, and the foundation of the British Empire. He has given a critical account of the government and policies of the East India Company. These descriptive and analytical details along with some description of geography and topography were of great importance to the British who took over the power and in order to frame their policies and preferences in governance they required to be aware of these details. This was perhaps the reason that some portion of this work was soon translated into English in 1789 by Haji Mustapha, a French convert to Islam. Later it was translated by John Briggs in 1831. Highlighting the importance of the work, John Briggs noted, ‘It embraces a period of about seventy years, and affords a complete insight into the events which caused the downfall of Mahomedan power, and the elevation of the Mahrattas, and it brings to us the first steps which led to the occupation of Bengal, and eventually of all India, by the British government’.12 Tabatabai not only outlined the transitional phase of state and politics, but he also explained them in great detail. On account of this it came to be known as an outstanding work on political history of India in general and the history of Bengal in particular. The British colonial intellectuals were quickly fascinated by the Siyar-ul Mutakherin because of some other reasons too. One such reason was that, on the one hand, it delineated the expansion of power and position of the English, and on the other hand, it also attempted to grant a kind of legitimacy to the establishment of the British power in India. For instance, Tabatabai absolved the British from hatching any conspiracy against Siraj; instead he blamed the young Nawab for his rude and haughty character and misbehaviour which alienated his own people who conspired against him to defeat and dispossess him of the power. Study of Persian sources for the history of Bengal subah will be incomplete without consulting Riyaz-us Salatin, compiled by Ghulam Husain Salīm Zaidpuri (d. 1817) in 1787. Salīm lived at Malda, Bengal,

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and served there at the post of Dāk Munshi or Postmaster under George Udny, the Commercial Resident of the English East India Company posted there. On the request of George Udny he wrote the work, Riyaz-us Salatin wherein the author has covered the entire Sultanate and Mughal period. He has started it with the conquest of Bengal by Muhammad Bakhtiyar Khalji and came down to the defeat of Siraj-ud Daulah at the Battle of Plassey. Geography, topography, major towns and cities, character and features of the people of Bengal are discussed in an introductory chapter. He has given enough space to describe the nawabi rule from the time of Murshid Quli Khan to the second nawabi of Mir Ja’far. The last chapter has detailed the accounts about the Portuguese, the Dutch, the French and the English settlements. Its chief merit is that it presents a comprehensive history of Bengal. Ghulam Husain Salīm has also mentioned his sources as he consulted almost all the standard works on the subject then available. He also consulted Tarikh-i Bangala and Siyar-ul Mutakherin. Though there are many omissions, gaps and chronological defects in the work; it is an important history of Bengal, which was translated into English with exhaustive footnotes and additional information by Abdus Salam and published by the Asiatic Society, Calcutta. Tarikh-i Bangala, Siyar-ul Mutakherin and Riyaz-us Salatin were the major Persian works, which are still used by the historians and scholars for their researches on Bengal.

History and Historical Literature Review of Chief Modern Works in English The first modern work on the history of Bengal Subah in English was Charles Stewart’s The History of Bengal from the First Mohammedan Invasion until the Virtual Conquest of That Country by the English, ad 1757 written in 1813. Charles Stewart (1764–1837) was a liberal British Orientalist. He served in the Bengal Army from 1781 and reached to the rank of Major, but he never fought a battle. He knew Persian well and that is why he was appointed in 1800 as Assistant Professor of Persian at Fort William College, Calcutta. In 1807, he was appointed as Professor of Arabic, Persian, and Hindustani at the East India College, Haileybury, near London. Stewart’s History of Bengal is modelled on Riyaz-us Salatin. Charles Stewart used the manuscript of Riyaz-us Salatin in writing his history of Bengal with



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proper acknowledgements. The target audience of Charles Stewart’s History of Bengal was the Europeans who migrated to Bengal from time to time and lived there for administration, trade, or military services. Stewart considered the province as the ‘most valuable acquisition’ about which he provided great details of geography, topography, climate, political history, its revenue resources, crafts and trade. An abridged summary of all these details were given as ‘Preliminary Discourse’. In the preface of the second edition of the book (1903), it is said, We have much pleasure to place in the hands of the public the best history of Bengal ever written or published. Stewart’s History of Bengal is not only the best it is also the first work that was ever written on the subject. Ninety years have passed since this book was first published. A few books of the same kind have no doubt been subsequently compiled, but these, being based chiefly on the present narrative, at least so far as the Muhammadan period concerned, Major Stewart’s History of Bengal still holds the ground as the standard work on the subject.13

Section VI that is the last chapter of the book, gives a blow-byblow narration of the events from the time of the accession of the first nawab, Murshid Quli Khan to transferring of power to Mir Ja’far after the defeat of Siraj-ud Daulah in the Battle of Plassey in 1757 and shortly followed by his tragic assassination. Stewart has noted, ‘From this period, the power and influence of the English became paramount in Bengal’. A footnote on the last word of this sentence (Bengal) says, ‘A very few month’s after Meer Jaffier’s accession, he was nick-named by one of the wits of the court, “colonel Clive’s ass”, and retained the title till his death’.14 The next book on the broad pattern of Charles Stewart’s History of Bengal, but more articulate and accurate in presentation of the facts and wider use and analysis of sources, came into existence after a long gap of 130 years, was History of Bengal, Vol. II: Muslim Period (ad 1200 to ad 1757) edited by Jadunath Sarkar in 1943. Stressing on the need of writing political history of medieval Bengal, Jadunath Sarkar, in the preface of his History of Bengal, wrote, My first and most serious difficulty sprang from the insufficiently known fact that while the Hindu period of Bengal history, in almost every part of it has been worked over by a large number of modem scholars producing fruits of a high standard, the Muslim period except for a few reigns still remains

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unexplored ground, and we are still encompassed by almost the same mist of tradition and the deceptive light of pious frauds, which baffled Captain Charles Stewart when he attempted the first History of Bengal in English 130 years ago. Even the chronology of many of the early Muslim rulers of Bengal is still unsettled, as their coins are so few and so badly executed that their dates cannot be read with certainty. This want of modem research has been most acutely felt in respect of the social, economic and cultural history of medieval Bengal, the only exception being the studies in Vaishnavism, which, however, relate to the Mughal period. The students of our province’s economic history have concentrated their attention on the British period and the late seventeenth century’s history during the Muslim period, the surface has been hardly scratched.15

Jadunath Sarkar’s History of Bengal carried twenty-six chapters and almost half of them were written by the learned editor himself. The work covered the same periodization as of Stewart’s History of Bengal. Chapters on Murshid Quli Khan, Marathas, Siraj-ud Daulah and the end of the Muslim rule were contributed by Jadunath Sarkar, while a chapter on Shuja’-ud Din Muhammad Khan and another on Alivardi Khan were both written by Kalikinkar Datta. Jadunath Sarkar made full use of the earlier historiographical accounts such as Tarikh-i Bangala, Siyar-ul Matakhirin, Riyaz-us Salatin and other Persian works, Assam Buranjis, coin-catalogues, inscriptions and archaeological survey reports as well as Persian letters, AngloEuropean reports and other standard histories including those written in local languages like Bengali. But Jadunath Sarkar did not trust the travelogues and Sufi literature as significant sources to substantiate historical findings. For him, the former were gossips and ‘bazar rumours’, while the latter was a ‘pious fraud’. In interpreting political history, Jadunath propounded the concept of law and order as a causality in historical explanation. He believed that law and order brought peace and security, which ultimately resulted in bringing progress in the society. Disorder and public insecurity not only become responsible for economic loss, but political instability and decline. Highlighting the public peace in context of decline of the Mughal Empire he noted, Public peace and security of property are necessary not only for the peasant and the artisan, but also for the trader, who has to carry his goods over wide distances and give long credits before he can find a profitable market.



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Wealth, in the last resort, can accumulate only from saving out of the peasant’s production. Whatever lowers the peasant’s productive power or destroys his spirit of thrift by creating insecurity about his property, thereby prevents the growth of national capital and impairs the economic staying power of the country. Such are the universal and lasting efforts of disorder and public insecurity in India. And the reign of Aurangzeb affords the most striking illustration of this truth.16

The tool of law and order for interpreting history has been applied to the History of Bengal too. Introduction of the Mughal rule brought peace and progress to the province and it became free from any rebellion or invasion. Sarkar noted, ‘Mughal conquest opened for Bengal a new era of peace and progress. It re-established that contact with upper India,—and through upper India by the landroute with the countries of Central Asia and Western Asia,—which Bengal had lost first when Buddhism became dead in the land of its birth and next when its Muslim viceroys threw off the overlordship of Delhi’.17 ‘The imperial peace’ and ‘a regular well-administered province’ brought all-round progress and a kind of renaissance in Bengal. Sarkar explained, ‘The renaissance which we owe to English rule in early 19th century had a precursor,—a faint glimmer of dawn, no doubt,—two hundred and fifty years earlier. “These were the fruits, the truly glorious fruits, Mughal peace”.’18 But the situation changed after Mir Jumla. His ‘death was followed by a general wave of laxity and disorder in the administration of Bengal.  .  .  . The administration in this province immediately after the death of Mir Jumla resembled the reign of mice in a neglected barn’.19 Shaista Khan with the help of his four sons ‘succeeded in enforcing peace and administrative control.  .  .  . One family ruled all divisions of Bengal, and ruled them worthily’ for twenty-two years.20 At the close of the century, Bengal witnessed the rebellions of Shova Singh and Rahim Khan as a result of which the ‘deep peace’ of the province was broken. This was due to the ‘indolent unmartial character and supine administration’ of Ibrahim Khan who was dismissed by Aurangzeb who sent his grandson, Azim-ud Din as the Subahdar in 1697. Bengal, however, got a second spell of strong administration, peace, and prosperity during the long rule of Murshid Quli Khan and Alivardi Khan. But with the assumption of power by Siraj-ud Daulah, Bengal entered into a new phase of disturbance and administration

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became ‘hopelessly dishonest and inefficient’. When Siraj-ud Daulah was defeated ‘an honest and efficient administration’ was established. Sarkar noted, In the space of less than one generation, in the twenty years from Plassey to Warren Hastings (1757–1776), the land began to recover from the blight of medieval theocratic rule. Education, literature, society, religion, man’s handiwork and political life all felt the revivifying touch of the new impetus from the west. The dry bones of a stationary oriental society began to stir, at first faintly, under the wand of a heaven-sent magician.21

In this way, Jadunath Sarkar remained stick to his theory of interpreting political history of Bengal and India with his basic concept of historical causality and conviction of law and order for interpreting history. Though Sarkar has been criticized by all sorts of historians for his ideology or his stress on the role of destiny in shaping history or being a sympathizer of the British rule; one may not disagree that he did not pay enough attention to the structural and institutional factors in his historical writings. Today when the total discourse and methodological debates in history have changed, Dipesh Chakrabarty has recently attempted to ‘refocus scholarly attention on Sarkar’ for his championing a ‘scientific history’.22 History writing in Bengal entered a new phase when the historians, taking cue from Jadunath Sarkar who chose Aurangzeb to work upon, began to concentrate for research on a single historical figure whose role shaped the course of both polity as well as society and economy. Three such works became prominent for the history of Bengal Subah. One was Alivardi and His Times authored by Kalikinkar Datta in 1939, and the other major work was Murshid Quli Khan and His Times (1963) by Abdul Karim. But long before these two, a work of erudite scholarship came up in 1935 by Nandlal Chatterjee titled Mir Qasim: Nawab of Bengal, 1760–63. Atul Chandra Roy researched on Mir Jafa’r and wrote The Career of Mir Jaf ’ar Khan: ad 1757–65 (1953). This essay now looks into these works starting from Murshid Quli Khan and His Times. A full-fledged research on the most fascinating figure of Bengal, i.e. Murshid Quli Khan, the founder of the nawabi rule in the province was undertaken for the first time by Abdul Karim. His magnum opus, Murshid Quli Khan and His Times (1963) was, in fact, based on



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his doctoral research. This was the first ‘full-scale study of Murshid Quli Khan’ as commented by Riazul Islam who reviewed the book.23 Riazul Islam wrote, ‘Among the administrators who received their early training under Aurangzeb’s watchful eyes, Murshid Quli Khan occupies a notable place. Aurangzeb trusted him so thoroughly that he favoured the officer against his own son. Bengal was fortunate to have him as its top-most administrator in the difficult period that followed the death of the last great Mughals. The period of Murshid Quli Khan’s ascendancy in Bengal coincided with an important phase in the development of the economic power of the foreign trading companies.’24 This work is organized in five chapters. Chapter I is ‘Introduction’, while Chapters II and III examined the career and administration of Murshid Quli Khan. ‘European Companies in Bengal’ forms the largest chapter that is Chapter IV, and Chapter V discusses the ‘Effects of the Murshid Quli Khan’s Rule upon Economic and Social Conditions’. Murshid Quli Khan entered Bengal with a Brahmin gene and Todermalian intellect. He controlled the province of Bengal for a little over a quarter-century during which he served the six Mughal kings. But for all practical purposes he was independent in taking decisions in all political and administrative matters. Murshid Quli took up the office of Diwan of Bengal in 1700. In 1703, he was given the charge of the office of Bihar as well. In 1717, he was bestowed upon the office of Subahdar in the province. This was perhaps the first time in the annals of the history of Mughals that the office of diwan and the office of subahdar were combined in one hand. It was at this juncture that the classical Bengal subah was silently converted into an autonomous regional nawabi which Bayly has called ‘autonomous kingdom’.25 This silent transition of power marked a new arena in the history of Bengal, and the ruler of this province, Murshid Quli Khan, was unopposed the first nawab of Bengal wielding enormous power to decide the fate of the entire region. But at the same time, the Mughal rulers after Aurangzeb attempted to stabilize the Mughal foundation through the mechanism of power-balance with these provincial nawabs. In this connection, Bayly has remarked, Ironically, these new political formations derived in part from attempts by the Mughals to strengthen the foundations of their rule. Murshid Kuli Khan,

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the Mughal governor who stands as linear predecessor of the independent Nawabs of Bengal, was sent by the emperor to rationalize the finances of this rich province in 1704. He consolidated and brought to obedience the great Hindu and Muslim zamindars (landlords) of Bengal. In the process the offices of revenue manager (diwan) and governor (subahdar) which previous emperors had tried to keep separate were gradually amalgamated. Murshid Kuli Khan and his successors, notably the Nawab Alivardi Khan (1740–56), also began to fill local offices and confer revenue grants on their own dependents, and slowly slipped out of control of Delhi.26

The result was that Bengal grew as a strong regional power base in lower Gangetic belt while Sa‘adat Khan grew his power base at Awadh, the upper Gangetic belt in 1720s. Similarly, Asaf Jah, Nizamul Mulk founded his own power base in the Deccan with headquarters at Hyderabad. In view of the growing power of the regional potentates, ‘the ability of Delhi to discipline them much reduced’.27 So far as Bengal was concerned, Murshid Quli Khan, by 1704, held the diwani of Bengal, Bihar and Orissa, subahdari of Orissa and faujdari of five major districts like Maqsudabad, Burdwan, Midnapur, Sylhet and Cuttack. His recommendations to appoint, transfer or depose any of his officers were invariably accepted by Emperor Aurangzeb. In the same year, fourteen of his relatives who had reached from Iran, were appointed on his recommendation in different capacities in Bengal.28 Murshid Quli Khan was, without doubt, a strong and powerful ruler. But it is also a fact that the British and other European settlements laid their foundations during his time. Fort William by the British in Calcutta, Fort Gustavus by the Dutch in Chinsura and Fort d’Orleans by the French at Chandernagore were built to protect their mercantile interests; though the permission for such construction was given to them by his predecessor nawab Ibrahim Khan (1689–97) consequent upon the disturbances and chaos created by the rebellions of Subha Singha and Rahim Khan, powerful zamindars of Midnapur and Orissa in 1696.29 He was temporarily removed from all his posts in Bengal, Bihar and Orissa as a punishment and transferred to Deccan as diwan in 1708 when Azim-ud Din (also known as Azim-ush Shan) again became the subahdar of Bengal and Bihar after his father Bahadur Shah I assumed the throne subsequent to the war of succession followed by the death of Emperor Aurangzeb. Relating the punishment given



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to Murshid Quli Khan, Jadunath Sarkar has commented, Azim-ush Shan ‘paid his hated rival in Bengal fully back for all that he had suffered silently in the days of his stern grandfather’.30 It is notable here that Aurangzeb had strongly reprimanded Azim-ush Shan on Murshid Quli’s complaint of his indulging in private trade or saud-i khās. Aurangzeb had written, ‘Whence did you learn this peculiar habit of oppression [business/madness] which was neither practiced by your grandfather nor by your father? It is better to eradicate this foolish habit (i.e. oppression) from your mind’ (‘Īn saud-i khās az kujaāmokhtand na jadd-i shuma dārad na pedar-ishuma. Behtar ānast ke dimāgh az-īn sauda pardazand’).31 Most underlying contribution of Murshid Quli Khan was giving political and fiscal stability to Bengal. After Raja Todarmal, who first prepared a revenue settlement of India including Bengal in 1580s, it was Murshid Quli who revamped the revenue administration in Bengal which gave a strong fiscal base to the province. New revenue settlements were executed, temporary revenue collectors called ijaradars were appointed, several fertile jagirs were converted into Khalsa and the dispossessed jagirdars were allotted jagirs in Orissa, number of armed forces was reduced, non-revenue military positions were given to his relatives, and Marwari banking houses of Jagat Seths were promoted by their active involvement in banking, minting and remitting revenue to Delhi. Murshid Quli protected not only the big zamindaris such as Burdwan, Birbhum, Bishnupur, Dinajpur, Nadia and Rajshahi, but small zamindaris those of a chakla or taraf were also supported. These administrative and fiscal innovations and reforms consequently gave rise to a strong Hindu aristocratic class which furnished a solid political base to Murshid Quli Khan and constantly stabilized the position of the nawab until the Battle of Plassey. In this connection, John R. McLane has compared Murshid Quli Khan to the Mughal Emperor Akbar and said, ‘Akbar built his marital and political links with the Rajputs to offset the threats from the Mughal and Turani nobility. A similar strategy motivated Murshid Quli’s policies towards the non-Bengali mansabdars and the local mansabdars.’32 The political culture of Bengal was further toned up by introducing the institution of khil’at or sar-o pa (robe of honour or head to foot) in Bengal. Under this institution a khil’at or robe of honour was granted from a superior honouring a subordinate at times in ceremonial

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way and often without holding a ceremony. This system was well in practice under the great Mughals except in Bengal. In Bengal, however, the ceremony of giving pān, which symbolized a willingness to obey the superior who offered it, was already in practice since the sultanate time in the province as has been established by David L. Curley.33 But the holding of the ceremony of awarding khil’at to the zamindars by the nawab on the day of Punya, normally first day of the month of Baisakh that generally fell in April–May every year, and reckoning of the new revenue account and closing the old one was introduced in Bengal by Murshid Quli Khan only. When the darbar of the nawab was arranged for the purpose of Punya, the zamindars and other revenue payers were introduced before the nawab. They used to offer nazr or presents in gold coins and other costly gifts. While the nawab offered a khil’at, which comprised a gown, a girdle and a turban to the zamindars. The quality and fineness of the khil’at varied according to the rank of the zamindars. This entire system forms a unique political grammar of domination and subordination. McLane noted, This was appropriate in a political system that gained legitimacy by converting every power relationship, however bureaucratic, into a personal one. By going to Murshidabad in person, the zamindar made a gesture of submission. And the nazim demonstrated his power to honour and recognize the zamindar who fulfilled the duties of his office and to punish the zamindar who failed. The eating of sweets symbolized the community of the assembled zamindars with the sovereign, while the distribution of khil’ats, appropriate to each rank, confirmed the hierarchy within that community.34

In this way, Murshid Quli Khan established a process by which he became able to control the recalcitrant zamindars such that they were always in submission, which Stewart Gordon has called ‘culture of governance’.35 Murshid Quli was succeeded by his son-in-law, Shuja-ud Din who ruled as nawab from 1727 to 1739 and then his son Sarfraz Khan ascended to power in 1739. Since Sarfraz did not possess the quality and power ‘to pilot the ship of the state’, he was shortly overpowered by Alivardi who ruled for about fifteen years from April 1740 to April 1756. The most eminent work on Alivardi’s Bengal is



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Kalikinkar Datta’s Alivardi and His Times (1939). Datta garnered Persian, Marathi and vernacular sources along with British factory records and private correspondence of the English and the French as well as published works. Datta was well aware of the fact that if history is written with a pre-conceived notion or ideology the selection and rejection of sources would become a compulsion as happened in the case of Howell and Scrafton whose accounts he thought ‘are not worthy of credence’.36 Hence he marshalled all the possible sources to articulate his arguments. Alivardi’s period witnessed two revolutions that shaped the course of history and destiny of the province. In this connection, Datta writes, ‘One has to make a critical study of it [Alivardi’s regime] in order to understand the genesis and significance of the political and the economic revolutions in Bengal since the middle of the eighteenth century, no less powerful and epoch-making than the other better known revolutions of the same period’.37 Alivardi rose to prominence when he was appointed as the Deputy-Governor of Bihar in 1733. His treacherous action against Sarfraz and defeating and killing him in the Battle of Garia in April 1740 has not been justified by any contemporary Persian chroniclers like Ghulam Husain Tabatabai, Salimullah or others. Datta has also not defended it as he remarked, ‘Alivardi’s behaviour towards Sarfraz, son of his benefactor to whom he was indebted for his early prosperity, was highly abominable’.38 But some other historians have attempted to justify the forceful seizure of the masnad of nawabi by Alivardi. Had there been a ruler like Mir Ja’far, Sarfraz or Shujauddin at the time of the regular and continuous Maratha onslaughts, the history of the subah of Bengal would have been different. In fact, some of the historians have attempted to justify the dispelling of Sarfraz Khan on the ground that he was not an efficient ruler. One scholar has commented, It can be imagined as to what might have been the lot of Bengal had there been a weaker person than Alivardi at the helm of the affairs in the province. Undoubtedly, the territory would have fallen an easy victim to their inroads. In the results that followed we find a sort of historical justification of the act of usurpation Alivardi committed in dislodging Nawab Sarfraz Khan, the then ruling Nawab, whose outward show of pomp, power and piety was underlined by an inherent lack of inability in the art of government. By his frequent dealings with numerous rebels and refractory Rajahs during his

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tenure of office under Shuja’-ul Dawlah, Alivardi had become well trained in the art of fighting an enemy, however formidable. Had that weakling (Sarfraz) been allowed to go his way, the province of Bengal would long have become a Maratha tributary.39

Maratha invasions was the most underlying task Alivardi remained engaged with. They were, says Datta, ‘perhaps the most calamitous events in the history of Bengal’, which influenced every sphere of life in the province. Datta believed that Marathas ravaged not only the cities and towns but they plundered villages too even during the rainy season. Trade, commerce, industries, agriculture everything was shattered and there was a huge migration and dislocation of population influencing society and urban demography apart from the loss of Orissa. But some modern historians like N.K. Sinha, John R. McLane, K.N. Chaudhuri and Sushil Chaudhury have challenged the view of Datta. In his ‘Introduction’ to the Economic History of Bengal, Sinha has noted that ‘Bengal continued to enjoy prosperity under him [Alivardi] and if the Marathas carried on raids it was only the western part of the province that was affected. In other parts of Bengal peace was maintained, trade flourished, and wealth accumulated’.40 McLane, however, expressed the view that ‘short term effects of the Maratha invasions were devastating’ particularly largescale death and dislocation of people, rise of prices, shortage of rice, decline of export from Bengal created ‘hardships for the landless and non-agricultural population’. He agreed to the conclusion of K.N. Chaudhuri that ‘the Maratha invasions and Alivardi’s pressing financial needs began to push the economy of Bengal towards the brink of a general collapse’.41 Sabyasachi Bhattacharya, in Cambridge Economic History of India has adopted a balanced view and remarked, The Maratha raids (1740–51), disrupted the stable order, particularly in the western districts of Bengal. Industry and trade, both European and indigenous, also suffered, not directly as much as from the general state of chaos. The raids, though considerably checked after 1751, as a result of the treaty between the Bengal nawab Alivardi Khan and the Marathas in that year, recurred till the British conquest of Orissa (1803) finally removed the menace, and the large-scale depopulation caused by such raids was one of the toughest problems that the early British administration faced in Midnapur and its neighbourhood.42



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Sushil Chaudhury has expressed the opinion that the poetic depiction of the effects of Maratha invasions in Bengali literature and evidences of Persian chronicles about the soaring prices of even food items to such extent that people largely, and even the nawab, ‘subsisted on roots of banana’ are highly exaggerated. Maratha invasion caused serious dislocation of economy in general, but they ‘caused destruction along the line of their march  .  .  .  and were obliged to return home on the approach of the rainy season  .  .  .’. The condition of zamindars was not too bad as they, apart from regular revenue, paid 10 million and 5 million rupees to the nawab to meet the emergency military expenditure. Sushil Chaudhury has also argued that the commercial life to the province, such as industry, trade and trading class, export index, investment pattern and credit system, were not seriously affected, and if there was any effect it was temporary and there were ‘really no long-term disastrous effects on the overall economy of Bengal’.43 Alivardi well realized the economic advantages of the European trading companies and he framed his policy in such a way to keep them in control but give them certain freedom to practise their commerce. Famous remark of Luke Scrafton often quoted by the historians still reflects Alivardi’s mind and attitude towards the foreign trading agencies. Scrafton remarked, ‘Alivardi used to compare the Europeans to a hive of bees of whose honey you might reap and benefit, but that if you disturbed their hive they would sting you to death’.44 Before his death Alivardi had warned his nephew and grandson, Siraj-ud Daulah against having any quarrel with the British. Quoting Siyar-ul Mutakherin, Datta notes, ‘What wrong have the English done, that I should wish them ill? Look at yonder plains covered with grass; should you set fire to it, there would be no stopping its progress; and who is the man then who shall put out a fire that shall break forth at Sea, and from thence come out upon land?’45 In fact, Alivardi was greatly successful not only in garnering the support of the European trading agencies, he also got the cooperation and active assistance of his Hindu and Muslim officers as well as zamindars. Datta concludes his book with the remarks, Alivardi managed his government with the active and sincere co-operation of the Hindu as well as his Muslim officers, though an undercurrent of Hindu discontent probably continued to flow below the surface. As a matter of fact,

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Sirajuddaulah committed a grave mistake in policy by openly alienating the sympathy of the Hindu officers, zamindars and bankers. Hindu support became a sort of strength to Alivardi, while its absence proved a fatal to his successor.46

In April 1756, Alivardi Khan was succeeded by his grandson and ‘apple of eyes’ Siraj-ud Daulah who has till now been the subject of debate among historians and scholars. He ruled for just fifteen months. As noted before, Jadunath Sarkar wrote two full chapters, one titled ‘Siraj-ud Daulah’ and the other titled ‘End of Muslim Rule’ in his famous History of Bengal, Vol. II. The former chapter begins with curt observations on the character of the twenty-seven-year-old young nawab who has been painted as a cruel, evil and tyrant by the contemporary Europeans. He noted, ‘Thus the apple of old Alivardi’s eyes grew up into a most dissolute, haughty, reckless and cowardly youth, and the prospect of his succession to the government of Bengal, filled all people with alarm’.47 It was Nabin Chandra Sen (1847–1909) who first of all defended Siraj in his famous poem Palashir Yudhha (Battle of Plassey) composed in 1875. But Jadunath Sarkar did not miss to criticize Nabin Chandra Sen and commented, ‘The Bengali poet Nabin Chandra Sen in his master-piece The Battle of Plassey, has washed away the follies and crimes of Siraj by artfully drawing forth his reader’s tears for fallen greatness and blighted youth’.48 Another work named Siraj-ud Daula authored by Akshay Kumar Maitreya (1861–1930) in 1897 also defended Siraj, but he attacked Nabin Chandra Sen for his ‘invented imaginary depravities’ used for Siraj in his poem about which Rosinka Chaudhuri has written in some detail.49 Both the books aroused national sentiments during the partition movement of Bengal after 1905 and so the British banned them. Two popular Bengali movies, one from Bangladesh titled Nawab Siraj ud Daulah (directed by Khan Ataur Rahman, 1967) and the other from West Bengal, Ami Sirajer Begum (directed by Sushil Mukhopadhyay, 1973) won greater sympathy for the young ruler of Bengal. When Siraj-ud Daulah became the nawab, Roger Drake, the chief of the British factory in Bengal, abandoned the usual practice of congratulating the new nawab by paying a courtesy visit and giving a suitable presentation to him. Apart from the personal



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reasons of grudge and insult, the Nawab had some genuine issues of disputes with the British. The first was regarding giving British patronage to Krishna Ballabh, the son of Raj Ballabh, who was charged of defalcating huge amount when he was diwan at Dhaka. Another cause of quarrel between Siraj-ud Daulah and the British was the misuse of dastak or free-pass. Fortification of Calcutta and their refusal to dismantling the fortifications was also an issue of discord between them. In fact, Siraj as the Nawab desired to assert his authority and the British continuously insulted the nawab and challenged the sovereignty by violating the trade and other rules and disobeying him in all matters. There is not a single instance that could establish that the British obeyed the nawab or have any inclination to reconciliate with him nor did they have courtesy to give him the minimum regards. Siraj’s main fault was that instead of an attempt to conciliate with his opponents like Ghasiti Begum and Shaukat Jung who challenged his ascendency to the masnad of nawabi, he outrightly disarmed, defeated and eliminated them. There is no any evidence to establish that Siraj-ud Daulah ever used diplomacy to tackle them. After his capture of Calcutta and victory over Shaukat Jung in the battle of Purneah, he became more obstinate and arrogant and insulted his own people as has been viewed by Yusuf Ali Khan, the author of Tarikh-i Bangala-i Mahabat Jangi.50 Besides, whatever the reasons could have been, he failed to reconcile with his own courtiers too. At least Jagat Seths could have been taken into confidence. On the basis of this situation and Siraj’s behaviour, majority of historians including K.K. Datta and Jadunath Sarkar, concluded that this led to the collapse of the ‘“new class alliance” of military aristocrats, merchant-bankers and zamindars which sustained the nawabi regime from Murshid Quli to Alivardi Khan’ and ultimately led to the emergence of a ‘crisis’ in ‘Bengal’s body-politic’ which became responsible for the Battle of Plassey.51 But Sushil Chaudhury has challenged this thesis of ‘crisis’. In the light of new archival evidences preserved in Europe and India, Chaudhury has examined the whole gamut of story and has expressed the view that the military aristocrats, merchant-bankers and zamindars of Bengal formed a ‘new power-bloc’, but it was not a ‘bureaucratic superstructure or a solid bloc’. Nor they carried any institutional basis. Fulfilling ‘personal ambition’ was the chief driving

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force and lacked any cohesion as is reflected by the behaviour of the adventurer brothers, Haji Ahmed and Alivardi Khan as well as Mir Ja’far’s ‘conspiracy to assassinate Nawab Alivardi Khan in 1747.’52 Sushil Chaudhury further noted: Thus the suggestion even in recent studies that the alienation of the dominant ruling class by the new and young Nawab Siraj-ud-daulah (1756–7) broke down the new ‘class alliance’ and led to the subsequent political crisis resulting in the British conquest is not tenable. The so-called ‘class alliance’ was in fact an exigent arrangement at a personal level and had not institutional base, and hence quite fragile. Moreover, there was nothing unusual about this political situation in the mid-eighteenth century. With every succession question since the death of Murshid Quli (1728–9), the ruling clique was divided; so it was 1756–7. Though a dominant group with the active support of the British opposed the succession of Siraj-uddaulah, there was another group including merchant princes, zamindars and military aristocrats who supported the young nawab. This was the pattern in 1728–9 as also in 1739–40. So Plassey can hardly be explained as the consummation of an internal political crisis in Bengal in 1756–7.53

I conclude this essay by noting that the Bengal Subah, which became independent at the time of Murshid Quli Khan and and Alivardi, had slipped from the hands of the nawab of Bengal. Mir Ja’far who adopted the title of Mahabat Jang that was earlier held by Alivardi, ‘lacked conviction as a reincarnation of Alivardi Khan’. ‘Revolution’, the Battle of Plassey as called by Clive, culminated in obligation on the new nawab for payment of three million sterling as war indemnity alone. Siraj-ud Daulah’s three problems with the British, i.e. the misuse of dastak, fortification of Calcutta and refusal to obey the nawab, resurfaced when Mir Qasim became the nawab of the subah. When the new nawab became assertive in implementing his powers, it was as if Siraj reincarnated in Mir Qasim. The clash between the established power (the nawab) and the acquired power (the British) re-emerged. Siraj’s chief fault was that he failed to understand the growing power of the British; instead he treated them simply as a trading agency. He had unfathomed trust on Mir Ja’far. This was also his great mistake. However, whether Bengal entered an arena of peace and progress or an age of eternal gloom is yet a topic of debate. One may also dispute and debate why Siraj-ud Daulah’s nawabi terminated with an inglorious end. But one may not dispute



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that the history and historiography of the Bengal subah passed into a massive change after the Battle of Plassey. It was the first time in Indian history that a trading company overpowered an established Indian ruling class and paved the way for the future conquests. Rabindranath Tagore aptly said, ‘Boniker mandondo pohale sarbari dekhe dilo rajdondo rupey’ (the trader’s scales became the ruler’s sceptre).

Notes   1. P. Hardy, ‘Review of The History of Bengal: Vol. II: Muslim Period, 1200– 1757, ed. Sir Jadunath Sarkar’, Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies, vol. 19, no. 1, February 1957, p. 207.   2. Jadunath Sarkar, India Through the Ages, Calcutta: M.C. Sarkar & Sons, 1928, p. 139.   3. Jadunath Sarkar, tr., Bengal Nawabs: Containing Azad al-Husain’s Naubahari-Murshid Quli Khan I, Karam Ali’s Muzaffarnamah and Yusuf Ali’s Ahwal-i Mahabat Jang, Calcutta: Asiatic Society, 1952, pp. 1–9.   4. Ibid., p. 3.   5. Ibid., pp. 49–50.   6. Ibid., p. 56.   7. Abdus Subhan, ed., Tarikh-i Bangala-i Mahabat Jangi of Yusuf Ali Khan, Calcutta: Asiatic Society, 1969, pp. 1–45.   8. Kalikinkar Datta, Alivardi and His Times, Calcutta: University of Calcutta Press, 1939.   9. Subhan, ed., Tarikh-i Bangala-i Mahabat Jangi, p. 79. 10. Khan Saheb Syed Hasan Askari, ‘Majmua-i Yusufi: A Newly Discovered Work of the Historian Yusuf Ali Khan’, Indian Historical Records Commission, vols. XX–LI, 1945, pp. 45–8. 11. Ibid., pp. 45–6. 12. Mir Gholam Hussein Khan, The Siyar-ul Mutakherin: A History of the Mohamedan Power in India During the Last Century, tr. and ed. John Briggs, London: Oriental Translation Fund, 1832, p. iii. 13. Charles Stewart, History of Bengal from the First Mohammedan Invasion Until the Actual Conquest of That Country by the English, ad 1757, London: Black, Parry & Co., 1813, p. 534. 14. Ibid., p. 608. 15. Sir Jadunath Sarkar, ed., ‘Editor’s Preface’, in History of Bengal, Vol. II: Muslim Period (ad 1200 to ad 1757), Delhi: B.R. Publishing Corporation, 2003, p. vii.

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16. Sir Jadunath Sarkar, A Short History of Aurangzeb, Calcutta: M.C. Sarkar & Sons, 1930, p. 442. 17. Sarkar, ed., History of Bengal, Vol. II, p. 188. 18. Ibid., p. 189. 19. Ibid., pp. 350, 371–2. 20. Ibid., p. 375. 21. Ibid., pp. 397–8; Chapter IX, ‘Nationalist Historians and a History of Bengal’, Shodhganga, see inflibnet.ac.in, accessed 27 October 2018. 22. Dipesh Chakrabarty, The Calling of History: Sir Jadunath Sarkar and his Empire of Truth, Chicago & London: The University of Chicago Press, 2015; Dinyar Patel, ‘Review of The Calling of History: Sir Jadunath Sarkar and his Empire of Truth by Dipesh Chakrabarty’, South Asia: Journal of South Asian Studies, vol. 39, no. 3, 2016, pp. 703–5. 23. Riazul Islam, ‘Review of Murshid Quli Khan and His Times by Abdul Karim’, Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies, vol. 28, no. 2, June 1965, p. 407. 24. Ibid. 25. C.A. Bayly, The New Cambridge History of India, II.I: Indian Society and Making of the British Empire, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988, p. 18. 26. Ibid., pp. 18–19. 27. Ibid., p. 20. 28. Abdul Karim, Murshid Quli Khan and His Times, Dacca: Asiatic Society of Pakistan, 1963, pp. 1–2. 29. Ibid., p. 24. 30. Sarkar, History of Bengal, Vol. II, p. 405. 31. Jamshid H. Bilimoria, tr. and ed., ‘Letters to Muhammad Azim-ud-Din Bahadur: Letter LXXXVIII’, in Ruq’at-i Alamgiri or Letters of Aurungzebe, Bombay: Cherag, 1908, p. 85; Muhammad Abdul Majeed, ed., Ruq’at-i Alamgiri, Kanpur: Matba’ Majidi, 1911. 32. John R. McLane, Land and Local Kingship in Eighteenth-Century Bengal, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993, p. 34. 33. David L. Curley, ‘“Voluntary” Relationships and Royal Gifts of Pān in Mughal Bengal’, in Robes of Honour: Khil’at in Pre-Colonial and Colonial India, ed. Steward Gordon, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2003, pp. 50–79. 34. McLane, Land and Local Kingship in Eighteenth-Century Bengal, pp. 48–9. 35. Steward Gordon, ed., ‘Introduction: Ibn Battuta and a Region of Robing’, in Robes of Honour: Khil’at in Pre-Colonial and Colonial India, p. 22. 36. Datta, Alivardi and His Times, p. 6. 37. Ibid., preface, p. x. 38. Ibid., p. 41.



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39. Subhan, ed., Tarikh-i Bangala-i Mahabat Jangi, pp. 2–3. 40. Narendra Krishna Sinha, The Economic History of Bengal: From Plassey to Permanent Settlement, vol. I, 1956; repr., Calcutta: Firma K.L.M., 1981, p. 2. 41. McLane, Land and Local Kingship in Eighteenth-Century Bengal, pp. 170–1; K.N. Chaudhuri, The Trading World of Asia and the English East India Company, 1660–1760, London and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1978, p. 308. 42. Sabyasachi Bhattacharya, ‘Regional Economy (1757–1857): Eastern India’, in The Cambridge Economic History of India, Vol. II: c.1757–c.1970, ed. Dharma Kumar, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983, p. 296. 43. Sushil Chaudhury, Companies, Commerce and Merchants: Bengal in the Pre-Colonial Era, New York and Delhi: Routledge, 2017, pp. 403–5. 44. Luke Scrafton, Reflections on the Government of Indostan: With a Short Sketch of the History of Bengal: From 1739 to 1756, and an Account of the English Affairs to 1758, London: Printed, 1763, p. 52; Datta, Alivardi and His Times, p. 144. 45. Datta, Alivardi and His Times, p. 163. 46. Ibid., p. 263. 47. Sarkar, History of Bengal, Vol. II, p. 468. 48. Ibid., p. 497. 49. Rosinka Chaudhuri, ‘History in Poetry: Nabinchandra Sen’s Palashir Yuddha (Battle of Palashi) (1875) and the Question of Truth’, in History in the Vernacular, ed. Raziuddin Aquil and Partha Chatterjee, Ranikhet: Permanent Black, 2008, p. 393. 50. Subhan, ed., Tarikh-i Bangala-i Mahabat Jangi, p. 161. 51. Sushil Chaudhury, ‘Was there a Crisis in Mid-eighteenth Century Bengal?’, Companies, Commerce and Merchants: Bengal in the Pre-Colonial Era, New Delhi: Manohar, 2017, pp. 399–402; Datta, Alivardi and His Times, pp. 177–8; Sarkar, History of Bengal, Vol. II, pp. 486–7. 52. Chaudhury, ‘Was there a Crisis in Mid-eighteenth Century Bengal?’, pp. 398–402. 53. Ibid., p. 403.

2 Military Power and Warfare in the Era of European Ascendancy in Bengal, 1700–1815 Kaushik Roy

T

Introduction

he political, military and economic rise of the British East India Company (EIC) in the Indian subcontinent during the eighteenth century was part and parcel of the wider process of rise of the West (West Europe) in the extra-European regions during the early modern era. Scholars have advanced economic, technological, social and cultural explanations to describe the supremacy of the West against the ‘rest’. The focus of this essay is much narrower. Here, I examine the military rise of the EIC in the Bengal Presidency, the erstwhile Bengal Subah (Province) of the Mughal Empire which included present-day Bihar, Jharkhand, Orissa, West Bengal and Bangladesh. However, I will attempt to contextualize the process of European ascendancy in eastern India within the wider phenomena of rise of the West. This essay is divided into five sections. The first section discusses the military divergence in Eurasia. A brief backdrop to the history of Bengal till the rise of EIC is provided in the second section. This will enable the readers to contextualize the story of establishment of British military dominance in eastern India. The next seaction portrays the rise of EIC to a position of military supremacy in the eastern part of the Indian subcontinent within the global context. Conquest is one thing and consolidation is another



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matter. The fourth section of this essay focuses on British pacification of the countryside of Bengal as part of establishment of the EIC state in eastern India. And the last section instead of offering a traditional concluding part of the essay offers alternate probable and possible scenarios. First, let us see why West Europeans came to Asia rather than Asians invading the western part of Eurasia.

The Great Military Divergence West Europe (original NATO Europe) economically, demographically and militarily, was an insignificant region in Eurasia before c.1500. However, between 1500 and 1800, Western Europe surged ahead and established global dominance, which continued more or less till the end of the Second World War. The issue of economic divergence between the eastern and western parts of Eurasia has been ably charted by historian Kenneth Pomeranz. One can now know why Britain, instead of China, underwent industrialization in the first half of the eighteenth century.1 However throughout history, there is no linear one to one equation between economic prowess and military power. For instance, the Mongols were able to repeatedly defeat the richer agrarian bureaucratic empires of China.2 Even in the Industrial Age, the American withdrawal from Vietnam is a classic example of the fact that economic assets cannot always be translated into military power.3 Generation of military power depends on several managerial, ideological and organizational issues. Again, as far as eighteenthcentury India was concerned, the indigenous polities (Mughal successor states) enjoyed equal, if not more, economic leverage compared to the EIC. For instance, according to one calculation, Nawab Ali Vardi Khan of Bengal Subah had amassed a treasure of 30 million sterling and in 1755, his annual revenue came to about Rs.18,644,000 (2,330,550 sterling pounds).4 Nevertheless, the postMughal polities were obliterated by the EIC. What is true for British conquest of India in this respect also holds water in case of other parts of the world in general and Asia in particular. In c.1700, Asia was the world’s major centre of artisan production and had 70 per cent of the world’s population.5 And, the net annual income of the Aztec and Inca empires were greater than the Spanish Crown. However, small

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Spanish expeditionary forces were able to overwhelm these polities.6 So, military power was a crucial integer in the rise of the West. Hence, several global historians have tried to analyse the military supremacy of the West. One of the most notable among them is Paul Kennedy who asserts that the Western military superiority was the product of a continuous challenge-response dynamic. He writes that West Europe unlike Manchu China or Mughal India was not politically unified. The presence of several competing polities in West Europe forced them to continuously upgrade their military machines. In contrast, the Manchu or Mughal regimes did not face life-threatening conditions as these empires were more or less united. Hence, the Manchu and Mughal military organizations were characterized by stasis.7 It is interesting that both in Kennedy and Pomeranz’s analytical frameworks, the element of ‘geographical luck’ plays an important role. Kennedy’s Eurocentric analysis is weak when it comes to discussion of non-European military history. For instance, both the Manchus and the Mughals faced continuous threats. The steppe nomads in the north of China were the principal concern for the rulers sitting in the ‘Forbidden City’; and the Afghan nomads plus the Safavid Empire along with the Marathas posed serious threats to the successive Chagatai emperors sitting on the Peacock Throne. Modern studies show that both the Mughal and Manchu military machines experienced continuous innovations.8 The most important intervention in the field of global military history is the introduction of the heuristic concept of Military Revolution by Geoffrey Parker. Michael Roberts originally introduced the concept of Military Revolution to explain the sudden rise of combat effectiveness of the Swedish Army under Gustavus Adolphus (r. 1611–32) who went on a rampage against the Habsburg Empire. Parker elaborated this concept and applied it in the field of global history. Basically, Parker is arguing that in the early modern era, the politico-military landscape of West Europe changed significantly. The feudal cavalry levies of the medieval West European principalities were replaced by gunpowder infantry. While the medieval feudal cavalry fought with lances and swords, the gunpowder era infantry was equipped with muskets. The musket bearing infantry organized in linear fashion were trained to generate volley fire. Continuous volley



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firing wiped out the chivalrous knights mounted on horses. To an extent, the rise of gunpowder infantry also resulted in plebeianization of warfare. Instead of knights, lowly peasants were inducted as gunpowder infantry. Gunpowder infantry supported by mobile field artillery, became the dominant template for conducting battles. The medieval period witnessed the weakening of state sovereignty. The monarchical cavalry was ineffective against the castles held by the ‘wicked’ barons. But, the early modern era witnessed the emergence of siege artillery. With siege artillery maintained by central governments, the kings were able to exterminate the rebellious local and regional power holders from the countryside. The rise of oceangoing battleships equipped with cannons sailing in line formation also changed the ‘face’ of naval war. And when the battle winning force structure—gunpowder infantry, mobile field artillery, siege artillery—was transported into the overseas world by the ocean-going battleships equipped with cannons, the fall of the non-Western World was merely a question of time.9 Since history is an argument without end, the Parker theory has generated massive criticism. Critiques point out that the Parker model is technology driven. The deus ex machina of his framework seems to be the gunpowder technology. One of Parker’s foremost critiques, the British historian, Jeremy Black claims that West Europe did not experience any Military Revolution, but only slow and gradual changes in military matters.10 Black would probably be happy if the term Military Evolution is applied in case of early modern Europe. Clifford J. Rogers, a supporter of Parker, attempts to accommodate both the Military Revolution and Military Evolution theses, by introducing the concept of punctuated equilibrium. Rogers argues that the history of West European armed forces is characterized by both revolutions and evolutions. For instance, in the first half of the fourteenth century, West Europe experienced an Infantry Revolution. Then, gradual changes occurred in a halting manner. Again, the first half of the fifteenth century witnessed an Artillery Revolution, and so on.11 The proponents of both Military Revolution hypothesis and their critiques differ on the pace of military change in West Europe, but agree on the fact that this region in the early modern era witnessed the rise of capital intensive gunpowder armies. All these historians

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focus on the West European armed forces. An exception is Black who has written that the non-Western armed forces require to be studied in detail for understanding the collapse of the extra-European powers. As far as our case is concerned, it must be noted that the Mughal Army was not comprised merely of feudal cavalry. The Mughal force structure included heavy cavalry (armoured Iranian and Rajput troopers) equipped with sabers and lances, light cavalry (horse archers who were Central Asians/Turanians armed with composite bows), mobile field artillery and heavy siege artillery. Contrary to established opinion, Mughal forces included musket bearing infantry and sappers capable of constructing trenches and field fortifications during siege warfare. 12 The cannons and muskets produced in India were equal, if not better than the pieces manufactured in South Germany (the most technologically advanced region as far as production of pre-modern military goods were concerned) at least till the first half of the seventeenth century.13 A technological gap existed between the Aztecs and the Spanish. The former lacked horses, steel and gunpowder.14 But, the Mughals had firmly integrated these three elements in their military organization. In fact, the Mughal Empire’s cavalry force at the height of its power was bigger than the combined cavalry force of Britain and France. The Western technological troika consisting of rifles, steamboats and machine guns came a bit late to justify British military supremacy in India. These three tools came into operation by midnineteenth century and could explain West European dominance in Africa. However, British conquest of the Indian subcontinent was complete by 1849. And it is extremely difficult to speak of any substantial technological gap between the Indian military powers and EIC. Rather, modern studies show that Maratha and Sikh Army’s (Dal Khalsa) artillery were better than that of the EIC.15 If not economy or technology, then maybe the secret lies in the cultural factors. The shift towards cultural studies in humanities has had an effect on military history writing also. The Marxists came up with their economic reductionist model in the 1960s, which in turn was replaced by the societal determinism model in the late 1970s. And from the 1980s, the post-modernists started arguing that ‘culture’ is the key determinant in shaping human history. A group of military historians following the culturalist line assert that basic cultural difference between the Asians and West Europeans



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resulted in the genesis of two distinct ways of warfare since the dawn of civilization. The Eastern Way of Warfare is characterized by deceit, subterfuge and treachery. The modus operandi of this approach to warfare is skirmishing, guerrilla warfare, diplomatic interventions and the cooption of the potential enemies. In contrast, the principal features of the Western Way of Warfare are application of science, technology and logical reasoning. The chief characteristic of the Western template of Warfare is a hankering for fighting decisive set piece battles and the objective is to destroy the enemy in a single afternoon. The cultural determinist military historians continue that the Western Way of Warfare has triumphed from Alexander’s time till Vietnam. The rational secular scientific approach and civic sprit of the Western Civilization from Classical Greece onwards are considered by these scholars as the root cause behind the rise of superior Western Way of Warfare.16 The writing of Indian history is characterized by time lag theory. A particular concept is introduced first in the West and then after some years academicians working on Indian history apply it. For instance, those working on West Europe invented the concept of feudalism and then historians working on medieval India started searching for feudalism. Similar is the case for Indian military history. The culturalist shift in case of pre-modern Indian military history is evident in the works of Dutch historians Dirk Kolff and Jos Gommans. They persuasively write that Mughal warfare and also eighteenth-century Indian warfare were a sort of theatre warfare. The Indian potentates waged a sort of ‘flower war’. The aim was to impress the enemy by mobilizing huge armies, which were more for show than for fighting. After some indecisive skirmishing, the potential enemies were inducted in the umbrella like super Indian polity (loose empire). Continuous shifts in the alliance rather than decisive battlefield victories characterized the Indian political scene. Though Kolff and Gommans do not speak about British conquest of Bengal; the Plassey Conspiracy and Mir Jafar seem to fit nicely in their paradigm. They conclude that this sort of ‘theatre war making’ had no chance against the lethal British war machine geared for fight to the finish. The Western/British warfare was more lethal and brutal because the West had a different political philosophy, which was the product of the Westphalian state system.17 In the same tune, like the colonial British scholar-officials, historian Andre Wink writes that

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the failure of the Muslim rulers to separate politics from religion resulted in weak states and divided (not unitary) sovereignty.18 The implication is that this factor prevented the Muslim rulers of Asia from building strong unitary states of the Westphalian model. If one replaces the term ‘culture’ with ‘race’, then Kolff and Gommans’s argument appear as a rehashing of the British colonial scholar-official William Irvine’s view served in a new package. Irvine published a book in 1903 titled The Army of the Indian Moghuls (the focus is on eighteenth-century Indian land forces) where he asserted that racial degeneration made the Asiatics in general and the Indians in particular, treacherous, untrustworthy, irrational and cowardly. Racial defects made it impossible for the Indians to be disciplined, trustworthy and patriotic. Hence, the Indians were unable to establish combat effective armies and strong state.19 Irvine’s book derived inspiration from Edward Creasy’s book dealing with fifteen decisive battles of the world published in 1851. Creasy, somewhat pre-empting the American Classical historian Victor Davis Hanson (his book came out in 2001), claims that waging decisive set piece battles was an exclusivity of the West Europeans from the dawn of civilization. And success in decisive battles enabled the West to dominate the ‘rest’. For Hanson, the crucial integer is unique culture of the West Europeans. And for Creasy, the principal driver in his framework is superior racial characteristics of the West Europeans.20 Following Creasy, Colonel G.B. Malleson in 1885 published his The Decisive Battles of India. Malleson asserted that victories in thirteen decisive battles (Plassey, Udwahnala and Buxar counted among them) fought between 1746 and 1849 enabled the British to establish their rule in India. And the reason for British success was their superior racial strains which gave them a moral and physical edge.21 Well it seems that at least in some areas, in the last 150 years, the progress of historiography has been poor. One needs a stock taking about the structure and combat effectiveness of the Indian armies and polities in the eighteenth century, especially in comparison to the situation obtaining in contemporary Western Europe. Generally, historians are in agreement that in the eighteenth century, the West European polities developed into what could be categorized as military-fiscal entities. Further, the new tools of war being capital intensive were costly. So, only



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a strong central government could maintain it. And the new tools of war also made possible the rise of strong states in the West. The capital intensive gunpowder-centric armed forces were indeed costly. To maintain them, the central government required cash in larger quantities. Hence, the state for taxation had to develop tentacles which reached down to the bottom layers of the society. This necessitated expansion of the bureaucracy staffed with salaried officials. Further, the polities had to encourage cash-crop-oriented agriculture and long distance maritime trade in order to expand their revenue base. And extracting revenues in greater quantities required the backing of armed forces, to sustain the coercion-extraction cycle. Thus, the polities were caught in a vicious circle: demand for more revenues required an expanding gunpowder-centric armed establishment, which in turn generated hunger for more taxation. And this in turn gave rise to the military-fiscal regime. Britain emerged as the classic fiscal-military state. For instance, during the eighteenth century, Britain was more heavily taxed and more bureaucratic than absolutist France.22 As regards the nature of the Mughal state, two opposing views are presented. While the Aligarh School categorizes the Mughal polity as a centralized bureaucratic structure, the opposing group of historians (who could be categorized as Decentralized School) paints the Mughal dominion as a loose structure overlaid with different forms of sovereignty.23 Actually, the Mughal Empire was a quasi-bureaucratic strong state with serious fault lines. In terms of geographical reach, the Mughal Empire under Aurangzeb encompassed practically the whole of Hindustan and also parts of Afghanistan. The point to be noted that even in the late nineteenth century, when the British Raj was at the zenith of power, despite making repeated attempts, it failed to establish permanent control over any parts of Afghanistan. In terms of continuous geographical reach, the Mughal Empire of Aurangzeb (r. 1657–1707) could only be compared with the Manchu Empire of Kangxi (r. 1661–1722). The Mughals were able to extort roughly 50 per cent of gross agricultural production from the countryside. A polity that extracted almost half of the gross produce from the peasants cannot be categorized as a night watchman state. And more than 80 per cent of the income of the state went to the mansabdars (holders of imperial ranks) for maintaining their military forces.24

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The Mughal Army was no joke. Stephen Peter Rosen, an American political scientist following the societal determinist model asserts that due to the divisive caste system, the Indian armies lacked internal cohesion. And the inchoate indigenous armies were incapable of coherent combat in the battlefields.25 Actually, the Mughal field force was capable of manoeuvring tactically in the battlefield. And waging decisive set piece battles was not a Western exclusivity. The First and Second Battles of Panipat (21 April 1526 and 5 November 1556, respectively) are clear-cut examples of decisive set piece battles in which the hostile armies were defeated in a single afternoon. The operational range of the Mughal Army was impressive. Like the Romans, the Mughals constructed military roads in order to facilitate the mobility of their military assets. The Mughal Army was able to travel from Delhi to East Bengal and could campaign throughout the year.26 The point to be noted is that the distance between Delhi and Kolkata is same as the distance between London and Leningrad. Only in 1812, Napoleon’s Grande Armée marching from Paris was able to operate in Russia and met with a disaster there.27 The issue of West European military superiority throughout history needs to be taken with a pinch of salt. Again, the Mughals had an allweather force that was capable of campaigning in varied theatres: from the swampy and marshy jungle clad terrain of East Bengal to the arid mountainous plateaus of Afghanistan. Napoleon Bonaparte said that God is with the bigger battalions. Size of the armed forces does matter in military history. The Mughal Army numbered about 1 million (including 300,000 cavalry). Only the Manchus topped them: they had 1.2 million people in their payroll. While Mughal India’s population ran into 180 million (about 20 per cent of the global population), Manchu China had about 300 million people.28 France and Britain lacked such amount of demographic resources. In 1715, the population of France numbered to 21.1 million and only 7 million in Britain.29 Only Napoleon I, in the first decade of nineteenth century, was able to increase the size of his army to more than 1 million. Comparative military history could open our eyes to issues which has hitherto remained hidden. However, potential structural weaknesses lay hidden within the Mughal body politic. As regards the issue of monopoly of the armed forces by the central government, the Western European



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polities had an edge over the early modern Chinese and Indian polities. Even in the sixteenth century, the local lords of France and Britain had the power to raise troops organized in semi-autonomous regiments, which were armed and maintained by them. Through a mix of negotiations and coercion, the British and the French crown gradually took over the power of recruiting and administering the regiments. The role of military entrepreneurs and their private forces ended by the first half of the eighteenth century. Moreover, the nobility was brought under extensive crown supervision by introducing a hierarchical command system. The establishment of a chain of command for officering the permanently established regiments allowed centralized drilling and disciplining the troops, holding of collective exercises, etc. Collective drill raised the social cohesion hence the military effectiveness of the troops. Further, from late seventeenth century, the nobility was educated in conducting professional warfare in specialized military academies set up by the crown. The academies taught mathematics, science of fortification, riding, fencing, etc., to the cadets. The academies also conducted military examinations for the cadets. The printing revolution that occurred as part of the European Renaissance made possible the production and dissemination of theoretical knowledge, which aided the spread and inculcation of theories and techniques of warfare among the officers. The West European noble military officers from freebooters became salaried state officials. All these resulted in the generation of a professional officer corps, which in turn raised the combat effectiveness of the West European armies by the beginning of the eighteenth century.30 In contrast, the Mughals and the successor regimes rarely maintained permanent military forces. This was due to the operation of a vast military labour market in the subcontinent. While in Europe, men had to be conscripted forcefully into the armed forces due to social and demographic reasons; in India, the countryside was overflowing with armed recruits who were willing to serve the highest bidder. This was due to the vast demographic resources who could not be accommodated within the monsoon fed agricultural ecology. Armed people from semi-pastoral economy was eager for cavalry service. And the marginal peasants’ younger sons depended on military service in order to supplement the family farms’ incomes.

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Since local lords were always willing to join the richest paymaster (which happened to be the Mughal Empire at least till 1707), the Mughal emperors co-opted these chieftains along with their armed retainers in the Mughal Army.31 In an attempt to broaden their support base, the Mughals also granted mansabs (imperial ranks) to the Iranian and Turanian immigrants in India. All the mansabdars were paid with temporary land assignments known as jagirs. The jagir (land grant or technically the power to collect land revenue from the piece of land granted to them) was not hereditary like the medieval European fief. Rather, these jagirs were granted for a limited period of military service and were transferable. From land revenue, the mansabdars were supposed to defray the cost of the military contingents raised and maintained by them.32 So, the troops raised by the mansabdars were more loyal to their local paymaster rather than to the distant crown. The demands for co-opting the largest possible number of chieftains and their armed retainers and also the easy availability of war horses and armed recruits discouraged the emperors from maintaining a large standing army. In fact, even the strongest emperors maintained only a small number of ahadis (troops under direct control of the emperors and paid in cash by the imperial treasury).33 When the central government suffered a military defeat or faced a financial crisis, then the mansabdars mounted an armed challenge to the emperor. Further, the presence of various mansabdars instead of a centralized war ministry also prevented coherent modernization drive of the Mughal military especially as regards upgradation of the gunpowder weapons.34 The operation of a military labour market in pre-British India was not unique if one scans the global historical field. There was a vast military labour market in China until 1800. Local society was militarized and arms were easily available. And large scale brigandage and raids by the steppe nomads from the dry and arid ecological zone (especially across the Ordos loop) into the agrarian zones were common. Private armies were maintained by commercial corporate entities like Tea Merchants’ Army during the Southern Song.35 The same scenario more or less applies in case of pre-modern India. Despite the fact that the mansabdars were organized into 33 ranks, there was no clear-cut hierarchical chain of command. In a Western European army, if the colonel died in the battlefield, the



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lieutenant-colonel takes over, and in his absence, the major would take over command of the regiment and in case the latter became a casualty, the captain would take over and so on. But, in the Indian case, if the monarch died or was captured or fled away from the battlefield, the whole army dissolved. Or if a mansabdar became a casualty in the battlefield, his contingent became ineffective. The real deficiency of the Indian armies vis-à-vis the Western European military organization was what in modern parlance is known as C3I: command, control, communications and intelligence. The next section provides a short background to Bengal’s history before the establishment of EIC’s power.

A Brief Overview of History of Bengal before the British Conquest This section narrates the formation of Bengal’s political geography and the nature of pre-British state system as it existed before Plassey. Special emphasis is given to the ecological conditions in an attempt to write the history of Bengal. And it can be seen that several long term economic and political trends that aided the rise of EIC actually had their origins in the medieval era. Further, developments beyond the western borders of Bengal decisively shaped the history of this region. The Turks from Afghanistan and the Afghans settled in North India played an important role in establishing Muslim dominance in eastern India. In fact, continuous rebelliousness of Bengal resulted in the Turks calling the capital of this province as Bulghakpur (the rebellious city). The distance from Delhi, the economic resources of this province and easy availability of war elephants and infantry plus the inconvenience faced by Turkish cavalry due to climate and terrain encouraged the officials of Bengal to declare independence from the authority of distant Delhi sultans or Mughal emperors. Numerous rivers and streams that became swollen due to monsoons, marshes and humid climate made operations by the cavalry armies extremely hazardous. Geography is the mother of history. Politics, military evolution and economy are shaped by fluvial geography of Bengal. Ganga and its distributary, Hooghly River, are the principal waterways which connected Bengal with North India. The monsoon rains and

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the melting Himalayan snow feeds Ganga. However, the shifting course of Ganga (and most of the rivers of East India) along with appearance of shallows during the summer season caused problems for navigation. Occasionally, the old channels silted up and the rivers cut new channels. A shallow draft resulted in lessening of the loads on the boats. To give an example, till the seventh century, the main current of Ganga flowed through Bhagirathi, which joined the Bay of Bengal near Tamluk in Midnapur District of present-day West Bengal. However, subsequent formation of alluvial deposits forced an eastward deviation of the river and this in turn raised the flow in Ichamati, Jalangi and Mathabhanga rivers.36 One will see later that the Afghan and Hindu chiefs basing their power on river fleets along these rivers seriously slowed down Mughal expansion in East Bengal during the sixteenth century. Muslim rule in Bengal (the Turks called this province Lakhnawati) was established by Muhammad Bakhtiyar Khalji. He came to Ghazni in 1195 seeking employment in the army of Shihab-ud-din/ Muhammad Ghori. After being rejected there, he proceeded to the court of Qutub-ud-din Aibak at Delhi. The governor of Awadh gave him jagir at the south-east corner of this province. In 1199, Bakhtiyar led a Muslim army into Bihar, then ruled by the feudatories of Jayachandra of Kanauj. After conquering south Bihar, in the dry season of 1201, Bakhtiyar led a commando raid from Bihar Sharif with a cavalry detachment towards the city of Nadia. Bakhtiyar’s trooper came in the guise of horse traders. Rai Lakhman, the ruler of Nadia was surprised and he fled to East Bengal. Lakshman was a brilliant operational move by Bakhtiyar. Throughout history, Bengal was invaded from the west through the narrow Teliagarhi Pass near Rajmahal. Lakshman Sena ruler had posted troops for guarding the Teliagarhi Pass. He left Navadip denuded of troops never imagining that the Teliagarhi defences would be turned by forced march of the Turkish cavaliers through the jungles of Jharkhand. After sacking Nadia, Bakhtiyar made a foray towards Gaur, the capital of Sena Bengal. Gaur was situated at the confluence of Ganga and Mahanadi rivers. Between 1203 and 1205, Bakhtiyar administered the province. Destruction of temples, construction of mosques and madrasas were some of the mechanisms which he followed in buttressing his rule.37 Bakhtiyar met an ignominious end in attempting to conquer Tibet. On the northern frontier of Bengal were the Koch, Mech



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and Tharu tribes. Further north is Tibet. Bakhtiyar had friendly relations with the Kingdom of Kamrup. The latter kingdom was at loggerheads with the Sena Kingdom. In 1206, Bakhtiyar started from Devkot with 10,000 cavalry in the northward direction. After crossing the sub-montane tracts of the Himalayas, Bakhtiyar’s force suffered from logistical breakdown. The local tribes rebelled against him. There were no food and grass for his men and the horses. The Raja of Kamrup betrayed Bakhtiyar and cut his supply line. Bakhtiyar returned with only 100 cavalry. In the month of August same year, he was murdered by Ali Mardan Khalji. At the same time, Muhammad Ghori was also assassinated and Qutub-ud-din Aibak established the Delhi Sultanate. Lakhnawati at that time was divided among the Khalji and Turkish officers as fiefs/jagirs. In 1207, they elected Muhammad Shiran as ruler. Aibak passed away in November 1210. Sultan Ghiyas-ud-din Iwaz Khalji ruled Bengal from 1213 to 1227. During 1214–15, Ghiyas-ud-din was able to repel an invasion by the Chhatesvera of Orissa. Ghiyas realized that cavalry was not able to operate in Bengal during the rainy season. Further, the numerous river and creeks of East Bengal required boats. So, he recruited paiks (infantry) and established a flotilla of boats.38 In 1247, Masud Jani was appointed as Governor of Lakhnawati and he continued until 1251. The boundary between the Kingdom of Kamrup and Lakhnawati ran along the Karatoya/Begmati River, which was at that time three times broader than Ganga. The Kingdom of Kamrup at that time included Cooch Bihar, Darrang, Kamrup and northern Mymensingh. During April–May 1257, a Turkish invasion of Kamrup failed. In the sub-montane tracts of Himalayas, Turkish cavalry was of no use. During the second half of the thirteenth century, the Shans from upper Burma established the Ahom Kingdom at Gauhati. And it would last till the rise of British power in India. Meanwhile in East Bengal, the Senas were maintaining a precarious existence. Turkish raids across Padma River and Magh (Arakanese) raids from south finally put an end to Sena rule.39 Padma was a small watercourse during early medieval India. But, in the sixteenth century, it became a huge river.40 Bihar was separated from Bengal by Sultan Ghiyas-ud-din Balban (r. 1266–87). Tughral the Deputy-Governor of Bengal declared himself independent of Delhi. This would be a recurrent theme of Bengal’s political history down to the eighteenth century. Delhi sent

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an army from Awadh in 1278; nothing was achieved. In 1279, another force was sent, but it was also defeated. In 1282, Balban himself took the field. He realized that a cavalry centric force would be useless in Bengal. So, the sultan assembled a river flotilla and recruited paiks for campaigning in Bengal. For these reasons, Balban emerged victorious and appointed his son Bughra Khan as the governor. In April of the same year, Balban left Lakhnawati for Delhi, and Bughra Khan ruled Bengal until 1287. During this time, the Muslim saints preached in the countryside of Bengal and established darghas and khanqas. And the boundaries of Turkish Bengal expanded slowly. Under Muhammad Tughluq’s reign (r. 1325–51), Chittagong and Tipperah were occupied.41 Towards the end of Muhammad Tughluq’s reign, the outlying parts of his huge empire started breaking up. In 1342, Ilyas Shah came to the throne of Bengal and ruled till 1357. He maintained a force of 90,000 cavalry and many elephants. In 1346, he made a raid to Nepal, and Kathmandu was burned down. But, backward economy and an inhospitable geography of Nepal did not encourage Ilyas to go for annexation of this country. Towards the end of his reign, he maintained good relations with Muhammad Tughluq’s successor, Firuz Tughluq (r. 1351–88). In return for sending elephants, he received Turkish and Arabian horses from the Delhi court. The hot and humid climate of Bengal with extensive paddy cultivation was not suitable for breeding of good-quality horses. In contrast, the tropical forests of Bengal produced large number of big elephants. Post Firuz, the weakening Delhi Sultans lost the power to intervene in Bengal. After Ilyas, Sikander Shah ruled Bengal from 1357 to 1389. He was succeeded by Sultan Ghiyas-ud-din Azam who maintained good relations with China and the independent Jaunpur Sultanate in Awadh. During this time, the ratio between gold and silver changed from 1:10 to 1:70. All large-scale transactions were done in silver coins, but small-scale purchases were conducted with cowrie shells. Saraikhanas (hotels) with Turkish baths came up for the merchants and travellers. Ocean-going ships were being built in Bengal for carrying cargo to the foreign countries. Ibn Batuta (1304–77) had written that the Hindu cultivators had to give half of their crops plus paid additional taxes to the state. So, Aurangzeb’s assessment of taking half of the gross produce from the peasants during the second half



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of the seventeenth century was nothing new. It seemed to be a long established practice.42 On the death of Sultan Jalal-ud-din Muhammad in 1431, his son Shams-ud-din Ahmad ascended the throne in Bengal. Under Jalal-uddin, Gaur became the capital of Bengal. In 1459, Jessore and Khulna became part of the Bengal Sultanate. However, the Ganga Kings of Orissa held South-East Bengal.43 The Husain Shahi Dynasty in Bengal lasted from 1493 to 1538. Ala-ud-din Husain, an Arab, established this dynasty and ruled Bengal from 1493 to 1519. He dismissed the Abyssinians from high posts. Further, in order to strengthen his position, he appointed high caste Hindus in the civil posts. It will be seen later that this policy will be continued by the Bengal nawabs in the first half of the eighteenth century. In 1494, the Jaunpur Sultanate was annexed to the Lodhi Sultanate. However, the Lodhis did not penetrate further east of Bihar. They had their own troubles in Punjab, Rajputana and in the North-West Frontier. And the Lodhis proved to be weaklings. In 1522, an independent Lohani state came up in Bihar. The various Afghan clans were fighting among themselves all over North India. The First Battle of Panipat resulted in the replacement of the Lodhis with the Mughals in Delhi. However, Zahir-ud-din Babur (r. 1526–30) the founder of the Mughal Dynasty did not advance in the eastward direction beyond Bihar. Husain Shahi Dynasty was lucky because in 1529, the Ahoms attacked across the Brahmaputra. A simultaneous Mughal attack would have proved serious for the Husain Shahis. Husain Shahi power could not expand across the Upper Brahmaputra because the Ahoms had a stronger river-based navy. Babur died in 1530 and his son Humayun ascended the throne.44 At that time, Sher Shah—an Afghan adventurer—had established himself in Bihar and Bengal. Sher had been able to capture treasures worth 60 million in gold from Bengal. In 1538, Humayun set out for the east with a large army. He captured the fort of Chunar. Then, Humayun moved to Gaur. However, Sher cut Humayun’s communication with Delhi, and Humayun’s brother Mirza Hindal rebelled in Agra. The troops of Humayun’s brother Mirza Askari also rebelled. And Humayun’s own troopers disliked the hot and moist climate of Bengal. As Humayun marched back from Bengal in the west­ward direction, he was decisively defeated at the Battle of

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Chausa (1539). Some 8,000 Mughal soldiers died while attempting to cross River Ganga before the advancing Afghans. However, Humayun escaped to Delhi. There, he raised another army to chastise Sher. At the Battle of Bilgram (1540), the 40,000 strong Mughal Army clashed with the 15,000 strong force of Sher. Thanks to Humayun’s passive leadership, the Mughals were defeated. Humayun became a refugee and escaped to Persia through Sind. The Mughal Empire temporarily vanished from the Indian political landscape. Sher established the short-lived Suri Sultanate and Bengal became a province of this Afghan realm.45 Clan rivalries among the Afghans and incompetent successors of Sher Shah Suri resulted in the replacement of the Suri Sultanate with the Mughals again. In 1553, the Suri Governor of Bengal Muhammad Khan declared independence from Delhi. However, in 1556, he was defeated and slain by the Suri Sultanate’s Hindu general Hemu at the Battle of Chappar Ghat. In that year, Khizar Khan occupied Bengal. In 1565, Sulaiman Karrani occupied Bengal and ruled till 1572. The rise of Mughal power in North India pushed all the Afghan mercenaries towards Bengal. The Afghans were repeatedly defeated by the Mughals because the latter had light artillery, musketeers and Turkish mounted archers. Jalal-ud-din Muhammad Akbar (r. 1556–1605) made a determined attempt to conquer Bengal. In 1574, Munim Khan with 20,000 men set out from Bihar to conquer Bengal. On 25 September of that year, Munim entered Tanda, the capital of Bengal.46 On 3 March 1575, Munim Khan defeated the Afghan chief Daud at the decisive Battle of Tukaroi. On 23 October 1575, Munim Khan died. His death demoralized the Mughal officials who made a temporary retreat to Bhagalpur. In November 1575, Akbar appointed Husain Quli Beg as Governor of Bengal and his assistant was Raja Todar Mal. Mughal power in Bengal was still not secure. Daud was in Orissa and Isa Khan had established his power base in East Bengal. Isa’s power was based on river fleet. And the rise of Mughal power in North and East India had pushed all the free floating Afghan mercenaries into Orissa. Daud with their help destroyed Ganga power and established himself. In 1580, some of the Mughal officials deployed in East India rebelled against Akbar. The rebels were in touch with Akbar’s halfbrother Mirza Hakim, the ruler of Kabul. In August 1581, Akbar



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captured Kabul, and the next year, he sent Khan-i-Azam as Governor of Bengal. The Mughal forces in Awadh and Bihar were ordered to cooperate with Khan-i-Azam. In 1587, Said Khan was appointed as the Governor of Bengal. In 1590, Man Singh set out for the conquest of Orissa. Qutlu Khan Lohani, the Afghan chief was ruling North Orissa. Mughal artillery and mounted archers gave them victory over the elephantcentric Afghan force. In 1592, Man Singh destroyed Afghan power in Orissa and added this region to the expanding Mughal Empire. In 1595, Man Singh was appointed by Akbar as the Subahdar of Bengal. In November of that year, Man Singh made Rajmahal the new capital of Bengal. Its name was changed to Akbarnagar. Rajmahal was much healthier than Gaur and Dhaka and was located near Bihar, then the main centre of Mughal power in East India. In December of same year, Man Singh advanced to destroy Isa Khan in the East Bengal delta. Isa Khan died in 1599. And in 1600, there was a temporary Afghan revival in East Bengal and North Orissa. In 1603, the Maghs (Arakanese) attacked the region around Dhaka. The Maghs had ghurabs equipped with guns. In 1604, Man Singh (Subahdar from 1602–4) established a Mughal coastal navy with the aid of Portuguese pirates and was able to contain the Magh amphibious invasion.47 Cooch Behar and Kamrup were annexed to the Bengal Subah in 1609 and 1612, respectively. East Bengal was threatened by the Kingdom of Arakan. The Arakan King (also known as the Magh Raja) had a large force of infantry, 1,500 elephants and 1,000 boats fitted with cannons. The jungles of Burma were teaming with elephants. And this explains the large elephant force in the Arakan ruler’s army. Mughal expansion in East Bengal was slowed down by ecology. East Bengal was a rice-growing area. But, the Mughal military personnel from North India and Punjab were dependent on wheat and barley. Moreover, high speed cavalry manoeuvres were not possible in the submerged paddy fields of East Bengal. With its numerous rivers, streams, creeks and swamps, and torrential rainfall for almost half of the year, East Bengal did not suit the men and animals of the Mughal Army. The Mughals were not adept in manufacturing and manning war boats, and were dependent on the treacherous unruly zamindars for paiks (infantry).48 In 1609, the Bengal Subahdar Islam Khan advanced against the Afghan chieftain Musa Khan in East Bengal.

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In April 1611, Musa’s capital Sonargaon was captured. In 1612, the Mughal fleet was able to destroy the Jessore fleet of Pratapaditya. A combined land and fleet action completed Mughal victory. The Mughal archers and musketeers and the Mughal river fleet advanced along the bank of Ichamati River in coordination with each other. In the shallow draught of Ichamati, the heavier ghurabs of Jessore Fleet could not manoeuvre properly.49 Man Singh established a coastal fort in Dhaka to protect East Bengal from the attacks of Magh and Portuguese pirates. Later, this fortress developed into a commercial and urban centre and finally became the capital of the Bengal Subah. In 1612, Islam Khan shifted the capital from Rajmahal to Dhaka. The change in the course of Ganga resulted in silting up of the river near Rajmahal and, therefore, boats could not sail along that stretch. Further, Dhaka was strategically located for conducting operations against the Bara Bhuyias (rebel zamindars) in the deltaic region of Bengal. Islam Khan passed away on 21 August 1613.50 After Islam Khan, his younger brother Qasim Khan was appointed as the Subahdar of Bengal. In 1614, Meng Khamaung, King of Arakan and the Portuguese pirate (it was a flexible term; pirates also meant freelance marines) Sebastian Gonslaves, the ruler of Sondip, attacked Mughal East Bengal. Magh and Portuguese raids on coastal Bengal occurred frequently for capturing the Bengalis who were then sold as slaves in Arakan. The Bengali slaves were used as agricultural labour and as domestic help in Arakan. The Arakan King marched from Chittagong with 700 elephants and 80,000 infantry (including musketeers and foot soldiers equipped with swords and shields). The Arakan Fleet comprised of 50 big boats, and 150 small boats with some 4,000 sailors. The Maghs crossed the Feni River and their war boats operated along Meghna River. Meghna was some six to eight miles wide, almost resembling the sea. Luckily in December 1614, the Mughal counter-attack succeeded because of internal conflict between the Portuguese mercenaries and the King of Arakan. Next year, an attack by the King of Burma and the Portuguese of Goa kept the ruler of Arakan busy.51 Ivory, musk and aloe wood of Assam attracted the Mughals towards this region. In 1615, the Mughals launched an invasion of Assam, however, it failed. In 1616, Qasim Khan advanced towards



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Chittagong with 5,000 cavalry, 5,000 musketeers and 1,000 war boats. In addition, the Mughal force had stone throwing ballistas and artillery. The King of Arakan started with a bigger force from his capital Mrohaung. In May same year, the Mughal force retreated. Further expansionist activities against the frontier kingdoms ceased due to internal rebellion within the Mughal Empire. In 1622, Shah Jahan son of Jahangir rebelled and occupied Bengal in 1624. However, in 1625, the writ of Mughal central government was reestablished in Bengal.52 Aurangzeb appointed Mir Jumla as Subahdar of Bengal and he continued in his post from 1660 to 1663. He made Dhaka his capital in order to check the incursions of the Maghs and the Portuguese. Mir Jumla established a monopoly system and became the sole stockist of certain commodities and then sold them at inflated prices. For instance, he became the sole supplier of saltpetre to the EIC. He also invested money in the EIC’s business and utilized their ships as carriers for selling goods at the Persian Gulf. It is to be noted that later the House of Jagat Seth would also invest in the EIC and the French East India Company. In 1662, he launched an invasion of Assam. Large areas covered with sal forest and tall reed jungles in the swamps made operations by Mughal cavalry almost impossible. Further, the lower part of Assam was extremely malarial. Flood and guerrilla attacks by the Ahoms in 1663 forced the Mughals to conduct a strategic retreat from Garhgaon, the Ahom capital.53 Shaista Khan became the Subahdar of Bengal in 1664. Aside from a brief interregnum, he continued in his post till 1688. Like Mir Jumla, he also practiced a monopoly in the sale of certain commodities like salt, betel nuts, etc. So, the Mughal nobles were not feudal and certainly not averse to investment of capital in business ventures. In 1664, the Raja of Jaintia raided Sylhet. In 1666, the Mughals captured Chittagong. In 1690, at the insistence of Aurangzeb, the Bengal Subahdar Ibrahim Khan requested the EIC to continue their commercial enterprise in East India. Feranghi-dominated overseas trade had become an essential cash cow for the cash-strapped Mughal government. An internal rebellion led by the Hindu zamindar Shobha Singh in collusion with the Afghan chieftains of Orissa in 1696 seriously shook Mughal authority. Aurangzeb reacted by appointing prince Azium-ud-din as the new Subahdar of Bengal. At that time, the

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British and French factors of their settlements in Bengal appealed to the subahdar for permission to build fortifications for protection. And the subahdar allowed it. This was the beginning of Fort William.54 Administrative stability provided by the Mughal Empire and foreign developments resulted in economic transformation of Bengal. In 1586, Akbar reorganized the Mughal Empire. The empire was organized into subahs. Each subah had a subahdar (governor), a deputy-subahdar, a diwan (revenue minister), a bakshi (inspectorgeneral of the armed forces), a sadr (civil judge), a qazi (criminal judge), and a kotwal (police chief). Raja Todar Mal reorganized the revenue system. Hindu clerks and account keepers well-versed in Persian language were employed to man the revenue administration. The lalas and khatris from Awadh and Punjab manned the higher posts in revenue administration. Only in the first decade of the eighteenth century, Bengali Hindus were appointed to the senior posts of the revenue machinery by the Bengal nawabs. The Mughal conquest of Bengal linked this province with the countries of Central and West Asia.55 Overland trade routes started functioning under the Mughal peace. The advent of the Portuguese and later the Dutch and especially the English (I will use the term British for sake of brevity) in the Indian Ocean from the sixteenth century onwards also gave a spurt to overseas commerce. From seventeenth century onwards, the rising demands of saltpetre (an essential ingredient of gunpowder) in West and Central Europe resulted in the increasing export of this commodity from North Bihar into Bengal through the river route. Bengal also exported increasing quantities of silk, indigo, fine cotton goods and coarse cotton textiles (for Asian consumption). Muslins of Dhaka and silk of Malda were especially famous. In 1681, the total value of Indian products exported by the British EIC from Bengal came to about 230,000 sterling pounds or Rs.1,850,000. The British investment at the then rate of exchange amounted to Rs.400,000 per annum. India lacked silver and gold mines. For precious metals, the country was dependent on foreign imports. Between 1680 and 1683, the British imported into Bengal silver worth 200,000 pounds to pay for their purchases. The silver was then minted into coins in the Mughal mints at Rajmahal and Dhaka. In 1654, the Dutch invested 200,000 pounds in Bengal. The huge influx of silver had strong



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positive impact on Bengal’s economy in particular and Mughal India’s economy in general. During the Sultanate period, Bengal’s agrobased products were sold in small quantities for cash to the Chinese, Malayans and Arabs (from Persian Gulf). Initially, the Portuguese came to Bengal once or twice a year. There was some coastal trade with the poorer neighbours of Bengal like present-day Orissa and Telangana. For internal consumption, barter was resorted to. And in general, the prices of the goods were extremely low. Throughout Orissa and in many parts of Bengal, the land revenue could only be collected in the form of grain. The Sultanate’s officials had the greatest difficulty in paying the revenue in cash and conversion of the crops into rupees involved heavy losses. Initially, the Mughal governors of Bengal had problems in paying tribute to Delhi in cash. In 1627, Akbar’s son and successor Emperor Jahangir (r. 1605–27) demanded from the Mughal governor of Bengal Rs.1,000,000 in cash per annum. And the Mughal subahdar had problems in paying this amount in cash to the Delhi government. However, the import of bullion into Bengal by the West European companies for commercial purpose enabled the Mughal governors of Bengal during the second half of the eighteenth century to pay the much higher annual tribute in cash.56 The above section has shown the formation of political geography of a prosperous Bengal. The Bengal Subah at the height of Mughal power in 1707 included Bihar, Orissa and Bangladesh. However, Assam under the Ahom Dynasty and Arakan remained outside the domain of Bengal Subah. The north-east frontier of Bengal Subah was marked by the mighty Brahmaputra River which was broader than the Rhine or Rhône in its lower courses.57 The British, only in nineteenth century, would possess the technology to conquer Assam and Burma. The next section focuses on the intrusion of the lal paltans (red-coated British troops) into the body politic of Bengal.

British Conquest of Bengal When one goes through the Persian58 as well as the European accounts59 written during the eighteenth and the nineteenth centuries, the picture which emerges is that the Nawab of Bengal, Siraj-uddaulah, was a debauch character who enjoyed wine and women. The capricious nawab extorted more and more money from the

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peaceful European traders. Worse, the cruel nawab also failed to maintain order in the public domain. The Bengal Nawabi’s nobility in desperation hatched a plot to get rid of Siraj and they called in the EIC. The latter organization joined the conspiracy in the pious hope that a more capable nawab would be able to restore peace and prosperity and this would enable them to carry on their maritime commercial activities. Once Siraj was displaced, the new Nawab Mir Jafar also proved a weakling. Bengal was sliding towards disorder. And the British stepped in as reluctant rulers. This picture is supported by even many modern historians, especially those belonging to what could be categorized as the Old Cambridge School.60 The Nationalist School considers Siraj as a weakling and Mir Jafar as treacherous.61 The New Cambridge School as represented by C.A. Bayly and P.J. Marshall among others emphasizes collaboration between certain indigenous social groups and the EIC to explain the overthrow of the Bengal Nawabi. In contrast, the Nationalist School of historians states that there was no alliance among any Indian classes against Siraj. And Bengal was not facing any economic crisis in the mid-eighteenth century. Selfish ambitions of a few personalities in the nawab’s court like Mir Jafar, and greed of the EIC’s officials for private trade resulted in the overthrow of the Bengal Nawabi.62 The reality of ‘Plassey Revolution’ was actually much more messy and complicated. What is sad is that we still lack a book on Bengal Nawabi and a modern academic biography of Siraj.63 A few scholars dealing with the military rise of the EIC when discussing the Bengal scenario focus merely on the EIC-Bengal Nawabi struggle.64 However, the rise of the EIC was interlinked, as we will see in this section, with the Bengal Nawabi’s struggle with other indigenous powers. From seventeenth century onwards, the Western Europeans in general and the British in particular considered the ‘Oriental’ rulers as cowardly and treacherous. They believed that the Asian potentates only understood the law of force. Hence, conducting trading activities in Asia was only possible if the Western European trading companies were backed up by military force. The British observers believed that 20,000 European troops would be able to destroy the ‘corrupt’ Mughal Empire. At a more prosaic level, military force allowed the Western European commercial entities to extract more favourable trading privileges from the indigenous rulers. The backing provided



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by armies and navies enabled the West European trading bodies to negotiate favourably about the quantum of custom dues and taxation, which were imposed upon them by the Asian rulers. Hence, the EIC and the French East India Company plus the VOC (Dutch East India Company) were always willing to use the military assets at their disposal to cow down the Indian rulers. The only limiting factor was the fact that the maintenance of military force was costly and this had to be balanced against the profit generated from trade.65 The EIC was formed in 1599. In 1640, it established a factory at Hugli. In 1652, this factory had a military force of 1 officer and 30 men. In 1683, the military strength rose to about 200 armed men. In 1686, the EIC decided to launch a military attack against the Bengal Subahdar Shaista Khan, for which about 1,400 soldiers were sent from Madras. The ration strength of the Mughal garrison in Bengal came to about 23,000 cavalry, 800,000 infantry (probably an inflated figure), 1,170 elephants and 4,260 guns. Mughal numerical superiority and pestilential climate of Lower Bengal decimated EIC’s force. In 1687, a treaty was signed with Shaista Khan by which the British retained their former rights and trading privileges. In 1699, Bengal was raised to the status of a presidency by the Directors of the EIC.66 Why did Aurangzeb allow the EIC to retain its foothold in Bengal? Was it lack of foresight on his part; the failure to realize that these troublesome feranghis would cause greater turmoil in the near future? In fact, the Ming Empire’s officials were conscious that the Franks (generic name used by the Asians for the West Europeans) with their cannons were causing bloodshed in Canton. So, they asked themselves, was it prudent to allow these foreigners to trade in China?67 Two reasons were responsible for the Mughals tolerating the presence of the EIC at this stage. First, India was always short of precious metal; but, collection of revenue in cash required inflow of silver, and the EIC bought goods from India by paying with silver bullion imported from the New World, Japanese copper and at times with gold.68 Second, the British warships dominated the Arabian Sea. And if the Mughals increased political pressure beyond a certain level, then the EIC retaliated on the Mughal ships, which sailed in the Arabian Sea and in the Red Sea. The Mughals were especially anxious about the Royal Navy retaliating against their ships carrying the Haj pilgrims. Neither the Mughals nor the Persians had an ocean-going

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(blue-water) navy to challenge the Portuguese, French and British maritime supremacy in the Indian Ocean and the Arabian Sea which was established from the seventeenth century onwards. Why the Mughals even at the height of its power lacked a bluewater navy? One could argue that the Mughals were landlubbers because the empire was founded by steppe nomadic horse borne Turkish aristocracy. The Ottoman Empire was also founded by the horse riding steppe nomadic Turks. But, the Ottoman Navy was able to dominate Central Mediterranean. The Ottoman naval power did not vanish after Ottoman defeat in the Battle of Lepanto (1571). The Ottoman Navy made a comeback after this climactic battle and was a force to reckon with in the Mediterranean Sea. The Ottoman sea power was also present in strength in the Indian Ocean. But, then the Ottoman high command in the second half of the sixteenth century made a conscious decision of not focusing on Indian Ocean, but concentrated their attention in the Red Sea and in the Mediterranean. This was because by this time, the Ottomans were suffering from what could be termed as ‘imperial overstretch’. They were engaged in fighting in a three front war: Eastern Front against the Safavids, Northern Front against Muscovy and Western Front against the Austrian Habsburgs.69 So, it would be wrong to argue that the Muslim Asian empires were incapable of building navies. The construction of an ocean-going navy was never a west European exclusivity. In the first half of the fifteenth century, the Ming Empire under the eunuch Admiral Zheng He constructed a blue-water navy that was more powerful than Vasco da Gama’s small armada. Had Zheng He’s fleet met Vasco da Gama’s small four ships, the former would have crushed the latter just as an elephant would crush a cockroach. But, Zheng He’s fleet mothballed. This was because of faction fight between the eunuchs and the Confucian mandarins in the Ming Court and also the fact that the Mings were facing serious threat from the Manchu horsemen across Korea and Mongolia. And it was the Manchus and not any maritime power that ultimately overwhelmed the mighty Mings. So, it made sense for the Ming emperors not to waste resources in building a blue-water navy, but rather to concentrate on building a ground force capable of countering the mobile horse riding steppe nomads breaking out from the interior of Eurasian arid zone.70 Similar geopolitical reasons explain lack of Mughal interest in building a blue-water navy. The Mughals faced mortal threats



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from Persia, Afghanistan and the Turkish Khanate of Central Asia. And from the second half of the seventeenth century, the Mughal Empire faced large-scale Maratha insurgency in Deccan. At that time, nobody was threatening the Mughal Empire in the Indian Ocean. When Aurangzeb needed a brown-water navy (shore-based navy) for controlling the coastline of Maharashtra, he used the private navy of the Siddis of Janjira. The Siddi navy was adequate for conducting amphibious operations against the coastline of Maharashtra in tune with Mughal operational demands, but not for fighting a battle with European warships in the high sea.71 Ultimately, not the ‘hat wearers’ from the ocean but the Persians, Afghans and the Marathas provided the coup de grâce to the Mughals. The empires of both India and China also faced large-scale peasant insurgencies. The Mings went down due to combination of military threats posed by the Manchus and extensive peasant insurgency occurring simultaneously. The Ming scenario posed a close parallel with the Mughal Empire of early eighteenth century. Persian and Afghan threats plus largescale Maratha peasant insurgency brought down the Great Mughals. Basically, the Mughal Empire and the Ming (later the Manchu) Empire were huge agrarian bureaucratic entities. Their economies were mainly dependent on taxation of agricultural produce. In contrast, agriculture was not lucrative in Britain. So, the state and the principal stakeholders of the polity had to look out for overseas commerce. Further, Britain had no large land frontiers to defend. Hence, an alliance between the government, merchants and navalists to enhance maritime commercial activities developed in Britain. This sort of political alliance that was mainly the product of unique geopolitics created a synergy resulting in continuous expansion of the Royal Navy and overseas commercial ventures. The political and military capability of the rulers of Bengal declined between 1707 and 1757. Simultaneously, the power of EIC rose appreciably during this period. And this imbalance also explains Plassey. The decline of power of the rulers of Bengal during the aforementioned period was mainly due to developments in Asia. In 1700, Aurangzeb appointed Murshid Quli Khan as the Diwan (Revenue Minister) of Bengal. After the death of Aurangzeb in 1707, the power of Mughal central government declined rapidly due to internecine factional struggles among the nobility, internal and external threats posed by the Marathas, Persians and the

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Afghans. One symptom of the declining power of the Mughal central government was the fact that in 1716, Murshid combined the post of nazim (responsible for defence and maintenance of law and order in the subah) with that of diwan.72 Murshid gradually consolidated his own position by marginalizing the officers hitherto appointed by the Delhi government and placed his own nominees in the different civilian and military posts. Previously, the Mughal central government used to transfer the mansabdars regularly after a stint of 2–3 years. But, with the weakening of the Mughal central government, the posts became hereditary. Nationalist historian Jadunath Sarkar blames Murshid Quli Khan for the demise of nawabi rule. He asserts that Murshid was merely a bureaucrat and lacked political wisdom and foresight. He only interested himself in maximizing the land revenue of Bengal and paying bulk of the income of the subah to the tottering Mughal government. In fact, he drastically reduced the size of the armed forces to 2,000 cavalry and 4,000 infantry. No military technical advancement occurred in his subahdarship. He should have realized that paying the annual tribute to the Mughal centre was more than useless. The Mughal Empire was passé and the Delhi government was unable to provide security to Bengal either from indigenous or foreign enemies. The implication of Sarkar’s argument is that Murshid should have carved out a separate polity and ought to have focused on raising the military strength of the province. In other words, instead of playing the role of a traditional Mughal governor, Murshid should have acted as an independent ruler and prepared the province for the final struggle against the ‘hat wearers’.73 Abdul Karim, a Pakistani historian belonging within the Nationalist School in his biography of Murshid is more sympathetic to his subject compared to Sarkar. Karim says that Murshid realized that the imbecile Mughal government was disintegrating. Hence, he concentrated all the levers of power within Bengal in his own hands in order to raise the efficiency of administration. But at the same time, Murshid felt the loyalty of being a Mughal official. Hence, he did not declare himself as the independent ruler of Bengal.74 Sarkar’s argument smacks of teleology. Just because the Mughal Empire collapsed in the 1740s, it does not mean that it was bound to collapse. In fact, when Aurangzeb died in 1707, the liquid cash in



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Mughal treasury was more than what was available after the death of Akbar.75 To a person living in India in the 1720s, it was not evident that the mighty Mughal Empire would collapse within the next two decades. Only historians with the aid of hindsight could make such an argument. Again, Sarkar wants Murshid to have played the role of a selfish governor by challenging Mughal central government and establishing an independent political entity. Murshid was trained to be a loyal government official and he played out his role well. Further, several historians argue that the selfish greed and political ambitions of the Mughal nobles in carving out independent political formations by challenging the Mughal central government actually hastened the collapse of the overarching Mughal Empire. Nizam Chin Qilich Khan and Saadat Khan followed such a policy by carving out independent political entities. But, neither the Hyderabad Nizami nor the Awadh Nawabi survived. So, Murshid cannot be blamed for not being disloyal. However, Sarkar has a point when he says that Murshid should be blamed for not encouraging military-technical developments in the spheres of gunnery where the Europeans were surging ahead. Secondly, Sarkar does not elaborate on the adverse effect of Murshid’s reduction of the military establishment of Mughal Bengal. The Indian rulers rarely maintained a large permanent standing force. Instead, during emergencies they raised infantry and cavalry on an ad hoc basis. The recruits raised on a temporary basis were neither trained nor disciplined and their loyalty was of questionable value. In contrast, the European powers maintained a large standing force under the control of the central governments. And such military personnel were disciplined, trained and loyal; in other words, thoroughly professional. And their combat value was higher vis-à-vis the temporary Indian forces. Since, Murshid did not maintain a large standing force, his successors as will be seen later were forced to raise soldiers during emergencies. And these hastily raised military personnel proved to be undisciplined and disloyal. When Murshid died on 30 June 1727, the post of subahdar had become hereditary. And it was filled by his son-in-law Shuja-ud-din, a Turk by descent. The hereditary independent subahdar took the title of nawab. Instead of the Mughal central government, Shuja appointed his own son-in-law Murshid Quli II as Deputy-Governor in Dhaka. In 1733, Emperor Muhammad Shah added Bihar to the Bengal Subah.

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And Nawab Shuja raised the size of his army to 250,000 men (including cavalry and infantry).76 Shuja was succeeded by his son Sarfaraz Khan in 1739. Murshid and his successors tried to build up the social base of their regional nawabi by collaborating with powerful social groups in eastern India. The Mughals depended on the Iranian immigrants for filling up the civilian posts and the Turanians especially for the military. The Bengal nawabs sidelined them as these communities were loyal to the distant Delhi government. Rather, the nawabs depended on the Afghans settled in Bihar and Orissa for filling up the ranks in their army and on the Hindu zamindars and kayastha clerks for running the revenue administration. In fact, to strengthen one of the props of his power base, Murshid allowed a few zamindars of West Bengal to absorb the smaller zamindaris. And these big zamindaris were retained by the EIC in the 1760s to collect land revenue. For example, in 1760, the Budwan zamindari covered over 5,000 square miles and had a population over two million. Overall, some 15 zamindaris paid almost 60 per cent of Bengal Subah’s revenue.77 The legitimacy of the nawabs was weak because they had undermined Mughal authority. It was further weakened when Ali Vardi Khan (a Turkish-Arab by descent) Deputy-Governor of Bihar killed Nawab Sarfaraz Khan at the Battle of Giria (26 April 1740) and proclaimed himself as the new nawab. The nawabs used to remit regularly the surplus revenue of Bengal (more than one crore rupees) to the Mughal central government.78 But, Ali Vardi (nawab from 1740 to 1756) stopped this practice because the Delhi Government was tottering away and due to repeated internal convulsions in Bengal. So, Ali Vardi could no more expect de jure or de facto support from the weakening Delhi Government. Take a look at the principal pillar of nawabi power: its army. To an extent, the nawabi force was a mirror image of the Mughal Army. Like the Mughal Army, the Bengal Nawabi Army was not a disorganized mass, but organized in clear-cut divisions capable of conducting tactical maneuvers in the battlefield. The Battle of Giria needs to be analysed here in detail. Sarfaraz had 20,000 infantry, 10,000 cavalry (4,000 under his direct command) and 20 artillery pieces. Ali Vardi commanded 10,000 cavalry (including 3,000 Afghan cavalry) and infantry plus some guns. Ali Vardi’s infantry recruited



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from Bihar and his Afghan cavalry were qualitatively better than Sarfaraz’s infantry and cavalry recruited from Bengal.79 Ali Vardi’s force was divided into three groups and followed a prearranged battle plan. One group under the Hindu officer Nandalal was to attack Ghaus Khan (Sarfaraz’s commander) and his troops stationed at the west side of the Bhagirathi River. The two other groups were ordered to ford the stream. After crossing the stream, the second group was to remain hidden and attack the rear of Sarfaraz’s force when the third group under Ali Vardi’s direct command would launch a frontal attack on the Bengal Nawabi Army. The second group commanded by Muhammad Khan started its march at one in the morning. Muhammad Khan had under his command several Afghan chieftains. When the battle started, Ghaus Khan defeated the detachment commanded by Nandalal. But, then Sarfaraz seated on the back of an elephant was hit by a musket ball. In the timehonoured Indian fashion, the death of the monarch resulted in the defeat of his army in battle, even though his force might actually be winning. When Ghaus Khan’s troops heard the news that Sarfaraz was killed, they left the battlefield in disorder. Ali Vardi advanced towards Murshidabad and proclaimed himself as the new nawab.80 However, in certain respects, one can see decline in the combat effectiveness of the nawabi army vis-à-vis its predecessor the Mughal Army. The core of the Mughal Army was its cavalry and the elites among them were the horse archers. The point to be noted is that the range and rate of fire by a horse archer equipped with composite bow exceeded that of a musket at least till the beginning of the eighteenth century.81 In Siraj’s army, no evidence of horse archers can be found. Rather, Siraj’s cavalrymen were equipped with swords. This was probably because the Turanians and Central Asian horse archers used to migrate into Bengal through north-west India and Delhi. And this route was disrupted due to rise of an independent Afghan Empire under Ahmad Shah Abdali (r. 1747–72) and presence of a hostile Awadh Nawabi on the western border of Bengal Nawabi. Again, the Mughals used shutarnals (camel swivel guns which were an equivalent to the Western armies’ mobile field artillery), mortars and occasionally flintlock muskets. But, in Siraj’s force, there was no mention of presence of these weapons. Then, from late seventeenth century, the Mughals used men equipped with specially

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manufactured lighter muskets (carbines) mounted on horseback.82 This military element was also absent in the Bengal Nawabi Army. One can speculate that this was probably due to non-functioning of the imperial karkhanas of the declining Mughal Empire. However, the Bengal Nawabi Army like the Mughal Army continued to use muskets, matchlocks, heavy guns, bans (rockets) and for logistics depended on the banjaras (mobile traders who sold foodstuff to the soldiers). Further, the Bengal Nawabi Army, which was an allweather force, was capable of conducting siege warfare and was quite proficient in mining, digging trenches, etc.83 Like the Mughal Army of late seventeenth century, the Bengal Nawabi Army also recruited European mercenaries in the artillery establishment. For example, in 1756, the Bengal Nawabi Army had 200 Portuguese gunners.84 From late seventeenth century, both Mughal India and Manchu China were lagging behind West Europe in the theory and practice of gunpowder weapons. Take for instance the case of Benjamin Robins (1707–51). He invented new instruments which were used to discover and quantify the magnitude of air resistance force acting on high-speed projectiles. His work on thermodynamic analysis of interior ballistics led to understanding of the rifling phenomena. Robins’s effect of fluid mechanics explained why rifles were more accurate than smooth-bore muskets and why rifled bullets should not be spherical. Robins’s air resistance experiments made the mathematical analysis of high speed ballistic motion possible. It was an improvement on Galileo’s vacuum/parabolic trajectory theory, which did not take into account the issue of air resistance. In 1742, Robins published a book on the principles of gunnery. His work made possible increased precision and reduced uncertainty of artillery fire in the battlefields and sieges. Robins came to India as the engineer officer of Madras Artillery and died due to fever in 1751. Robins was not an exception. Leonhard Euler who taught in the Berlin Academy of Sciences improved upon Robins’s ballistics theory. In 1741, Britain established an academy for teaching geometry and trigonometry to the engineer officers.85 This sort of alliance between scientists-engineers and military leaders that was present in eighteenth-century Western Europe was absent in India and China. The Indians and Chinese artisans could copy and improve upon the Western models of gunpowder weapons,



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but no organic research and developments occurred. Historian Iqtidar Alam Khan writes that the Mughals failed to manufacture mediumsize wrought-iron field artillery.86 This deficiency also applies in case of the Bengal Nawabi Army. Why was it so? After all, gunpowder first developed in China and then through the Mongols spread to South Asia and West Europe. And saltpetre was available in abundance in South Asia. Stewart Gordon opines that culture was the principal culprit. In the indigenous armies of South Asia, mounted service was regarded as socially prestigious, but the artillery branch offered no chance of social advancement.87 Why equine culture instead of gunpowder culture dominated in pre-colonial South Asia is not explained. Actually, the superiority of gunpowder technology was episodic and not intrinsic. Geopolitics and environment played an important role. Unlike in Asia, good horses and composite bows were absent in West Europe. So, the West European polities from fourteenth century onwards focused on gunpowder technology as a desperate measure. Moreover, the Manchu and Mughal empires unlike West Europe faced the main threat from the horse-riding steppe nomads. Against their dispersed fast-paced warfare, slow-moving artillery and musket fire were not much effective. The hostile fast-moving steppe nomadic cavalry forced the Mughal and Chinese emperors to go for cavalry-centric armies. If the Chinese and Mughal emperors had raised a Western modeled force comprising of foot marching infantry equipped with pikes and slow-firing inaccurate matchlocks in the seventeenth century, it would have been wiped out easily by the steppe nomadic horse archers equipped with recurved composite bows. Only at the beginning of the eighteenth century, slow and gradual accretions of gunpowder technology made the fusil and field artillery more superior that the recurved composite bows of the mounted archers in range and accuracy. Nobody could have foreseen this development before c.1750.88 Further, the Mughal Army faced opponents with large fortresses like Bijapur and Golkunda during the second half of the seventeenth century. So, the Mughal focus was to develop heavy static siege artillery geared for sieges, rather than light mobile field artillery suited for the battlefield. The Mughals maintained a riverine fleet in Bengal. This fleet was capable of conducting amphibious expeditions against the Ahom

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Fleet along Brahmaputra River. But, while fighting the Maghs of Arakan, Shasita Khan had to utilize the West European seamen. And the Magh coastal navy acquired technological inputs from the Portuguese. However, the Mughals were able to build naval infrastructure, viz., dockyards and canals for the maintenance and mobility of their naval units.89 Of course, the Mughal warships were not capable of challenging the British warships which were able to sail along the Ganga till Murshidabad (capital of Bengal Nawabi). But, one does not hear of the nawab fleet under Siraj. A piece of evidence is available, which says that under Nawab Shuja’s reign the nawwara (Bengal war flotilla) was retrenched.90 This was done because of absence of any regional indigenous naval threat before the military intervention of the EIC in 1757. And the nawabs lacked the technical expertise to build a blue-water navy or a brown-water fleet capable of confronting the Royal Navy and EIC’s marine. Freed from any interference by the Indian navies, the British and the French navies fought with each other in order to control the coastline of the subcontinent and the Indian Ocean. In June 1748, a British fleet appeared and laid siege to Pondicherry, the principal French settlement in India.91 By late eighteenth century, the Royal Navy rather than the French Navy was dominating the Atlantic Ocean, the Indian Ocean, Arabian Sea and the Bay of Bengal. The French failure was probably because Paris was pursuing two divergent strategies simultaneously: a continental strategy of establishing hegemony in Western and Central Europe and a maritime strategy for dominating the world’s oceans. Even a great power like France cannot maintain a large navy and a large land army simultaneously. In contrast, British strategy was sensible. London eschewed continental commitment and concentrated on constructing the world’s largest navy.92 Though the Bengal nawabs maintained a large military force supported by land revenue, their legitimacy was seriously challenged when Ali Vardi ascended the throne by defeating Nawab Sarfaraz Khan in the Battle of Giria. Ambitious Afghan commanders were encouraged by the idea that, if they could mount successful military challenge to the new Nawab Ali Vardi, they could also become nawabs. Ali Vardi in order to counterbalance the Afghan commanders tried to induct Hindu landlords with their armed retainers in the



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army. Generally, the cavalrymen were Afghans, while the musketeers were Hindu peasants from Bihar. Moreover, the Bengal Nawabi Army depended on the zamindari levies during emergencies and the latter proved to be disloyal. Both the zamindars of Burdwan and Birbhum maintained Afghan mercenaries.93 For instance, in 1742, during the Maratha invasion of Bengal, the Raja of Burdwan’s (a big zamindar) force deserted the army of Ali Vardi.94 Overall, the Bengal Nawabi Army remained an institutionally weak fragile instrument with dubious loyalty. And with this instrument, Ali Vardi had to confront the rebellious Afghan chieftains and the Marathas throughout his reign. Mirza Baqir Khan, an Afghan chieftain with the aid of Nizam of Hyderabad (independent subahdar of Deccan) Asaf Jah, raised a Telinga (infantry recruited from Hindus of Deccan) force and raided Orissa in 1741. Ali Vardi marched against him with 20,000 cavalry and 30,000 infantry.95 In 1748, Habibullah Khan, an Afghan commander challenged Ali Vardi. In Bihar, he raised (thanks to the dynamic operation of the military labour market) 200,000 cavalry and infantry.96 More serious for Ali Vardi was the Maratha military challenge. In 1742, Raghuji Bhonsle, the semi-autonomous Maratha ruler of Nagpur sent his general Bhaskar with 20,000 cavalry to collect chauth (protection money in return for not launching pillaging raids) from Bengal. Bhaskar moved through Orissa into Raniganj and then into Burdwan. Ali Vardi had with him 4,000 cavalry and 5,000 musketeers. Ali Vardi was forced to retreat to Katwa. With the coming of the rainy season, the Marathas laden with plunder retreated to Birbhum. The Marathas were able to raid the Dutch factories at Murshidabad and in Burdwan districts. On example of the declining authority of the nawab was that the EIC strengthened its fortification in Calcutta, stationed a ship in Ganga and raised the strength of military detachment for protecting their Kasimbazar factory. Ali Vardi’s whole attention was directed against the Maratha threat. So, he was not in a position to take action against the EIC’s unilateral military deployments. Many Indians of respectable and rich families took shelter in Calcutta. The military prestige of the sahibs among the elites of Bengal Subah was increasing. The European trading companies were becoming militarily powerful not only in East India but also in South India. For instance, in 1746, the French flouted the

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authority of the Nawab of Carnatic and attacked the British factory at Fort St. George, Madras (present-day Chennai).97 The capture of Madras by the French was an offshoot of the war in Europe between France and England, known as the War of the Austrian Succession.98 Brijen K. Gupta opines that the failure of the Nawab of Arcot to prevent the French from attacking Madras, strengthened the British resolve that even the Bengal Nawab Ali Vardi Khan was impotent in providing security in case of a French attack on Calcutta. Hence, the EIC was hell bent in strengthening the fortifications of their factories in the Bengal Subah.99 Further, the British factories in Bengal were saved from Maratha depredations, not by the nawabi force but by their own fortifications. Meanwhile, a detachment sent by Bhaskar was able to defeat and kill Ali Vardi’s Deputy-Governor of Orissa Shaikh Masum. In December 1742, Bhaskar laden with plunder left Orissa.100 Ali Vardi could give no attention to the rising power of the British traders, because the Indian geopolitical scenario was getting complicated and dangerous. Safdar Jang, the leader of the Irani/ Persian lobby in the Delhi court and independent Subahdar/Nawab of Awadh in December 1742 entered Patna with 10,000 Hindustani (North Indian) infantry and 40,000 cavalry (including 7,000 Qizilbash cavalry, the best in the world at that time). Peshwa Balaji Baji Rao— Prime Minister of the Maratha Confederacy from 1740 to 1761— instead of making common cause with Raghuji Bhonsle of Berar joined force with Ali Vardi. The Maratha Confederacy was already fractured by this time. The semi-autonomous Maratha chieftains: the Peshwa and Raghuji were acting in cross purpose. This process would be accelerated in the aftermath of Third Battle of Panipat (14 January 1761). The Peshwa’s main field army comprising 50,000 cavalry was then the strongest land force in South Asia. Observing the Peshwa entering Bihar in 1743, Safdar Jang realized that discretion was the better part of valour and retreated to Awadh. Ali Vardi’s heavy Afghan cavalry like the Rajput armoured cavalry was suited for launching a charge in set piece battle and failed to catch up with light Maratha cavalry of Raghuji. So, Peshwa marched with his own force and defeated Raghuji in a battle. After getting Rs.22 lakh from Ali Vardi, Peshwa vacated Bengal in May 1743.101 The biggest size of the Bengal Nawabi Army was reached under Ali Vardi, when he raised 70,000 cavalry and 100,000 musketeers



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to meet the Maratha armies of Peshwa Balaji Baji Rao and Raghuji Bhonsle in 1743.102 But the burden of paying chauth to the Peshwa in addition to the Maratha raids had undermined the agrarian economy of Bengal. And this put a heavy pressure on the nawabi exchequer. Ali Vardi’s army budget jumped to 1 crore 80 lakh annually. It was unsustainable in the context of declining revenue receipts. So, Ali Vardi was forced to reduce the size of his army. In March 1744, Raghuji sent Bhaskar again to Bengal with 20,000 cavalry.103 The repeated Maratha raids gave birth to the folklore ‘bargi alo deshe’ (Maratha cavalryman was known as bargi), a lullaby which mothers sang to their little sons. By 1751, the Marathas from Berar had been able to occupy Orissa. The Maratha light cavalry equipped with spears, long swords and matchlocks104 was more successful in the drier semi-arid regions of Orissa and West Bengal, rather than in the swampy, marshy and jungle covered East Bengal. Due to developments within the Indian subcontinent, the Bengal Nawabi was declining politically, militarily and economically, even before the entry of EIC in Bengal on a large scale. Between 1707 and 1756, while the military power and political legitimacy of the nawabs were declining, the EIC was able to raise its military power substantially. The British realized that the military machine produced by the Military Revolution was not that effective in Indian conditions. The British adapted their West European military system to eastern conditions by adopting certain Indian military elements and the result was a hybrid military establishment. And this military organization that was an amalgam of the best of East and West, gave the EIC military supremacy in the subcontinent.105 The necessity of traversing vast distances in the Indian subcontinent and presence of large number of cavalry maintained by the indigenous powers made it necessary for the Company to possess a cavalry establishment. Light cavalry was required for reconnaissance, screening of the hostile force and pursuit of the defeated force for annihilation. The defeat of EIC in the First Anglo-Mysore War (1767–9) was due to the fact that they had no counter against Haidar Ali’s light cavalry which ravaged Madras Presidency.106 The big Welsh and Australian horses used by the British were not that useful in covering large distances of semi-arid plateau of Deccan or the marshy lands of swampy Bengal. Moreover, Britain lacked manpower to maintain large number of infantry and troopers in India. Further,

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a British soldier was four times more costly than an Indian soldier because of the cost involved in transporting the former across the oceans. In addition, the shelf life of a British soldier was less in India due to heat and disease in the subcontinent. While in America, the Europeans thanks to the diseases (like smallpox, measles, etc.) brought by them enjoyed a demographic edge over the ‘natives’;107 the situation in India overflowing with demographic assets was opposite. The subcontinent was full of demographic resources. And the ‘thin red line’ was assailed by India’s heat and diseases like malaria, smallpox, cholera, dysentery, etc. Even at the best of times, less than one-eighth of the white soldiers were fit for service.108 So, the EIC under Stringer Lawrence, Eyre Coote and Robert Clive followed the policy of recruiting Indian manpower in the cavalry and infantry branches and then equipping, drilling and disciplining them in the Western military fashion. Thus, was born the sepoys and sowars of the British Raj. The sepoys were given red-coloured uniform and came to be known as ‘native’ lal paltans. Military dress was a European innovation and it strengthened cohesion among the personnel of the regiment.109 The EIC recruited Deccani Muslims in the cavalry. The Deccani Muslims also joined the cavalry forces of Nizam of Hyderabad and Mysore. For musketeers, the EIC tapped the Hindu peasantry of Telengana known as Telingas. The Telingas were also present in Hyderabad Nawabi Army and in the Mysore force of Haidar Ali and Tipu Sultan. However, the British introduced a managerial innovation in order to raise their level of control over the sepoys. While the Indian rulers recruited the sepoys in groups along with their own officers known as jemadars, the EIC enlisted the sepoys individually and organized them in regiments which were commanded by British officers.110 For supplying the sepoys and sowars in their force, the British tapped the traditional Indian bazaars, sutlers and the harcarrahs for military intelligence purpose.111 The British advantage lay in the spheres of command, control, communications due to presence of a hierarchical professional officer cadre and transportation advantages provided by their maritime supremacy. And these British advantages became evident when the EIC clashed with the Bengal Nawab Siraj. Siraj, a man of medium height aged about 20 years after ascending the throne on the death of Ali Vardi in April 1756, attempted to



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consolidate his authority. And this centralizing attempt by the nawab alienated the principal stakeholders of the nawabi regime, who in turn conspired against him. Folk wisdom has it that misfortunes come in threes. In Siraj’s case, Murphy’s Law (‘Anything that can go wrong will go wrong’) seemed to operate. Ghasiti Begum (eldest daughter of Ali Vardi) and the Nawab of Purnea Shaukat Jang challenged Siraj’s authority. Shaukat Jang was supported by the decrepit Mughal court of Delhi. The Hindu zamindars and Siraj’s Afghan and Turani military commanders were treacherous. The EIC openly flouted the nawab’s authority. And the French Company was not cooperating with the nawab.112 Worse, there was the possibility that Ahmad Shah Abdali of Afghanistan might advance through Awadh towards Bengal. Due to repeated rebellions by the Afghan chieftains and Turani commanders and their collusion with the Marathas who launched several raids into Bengal Subah, the nawabi authority declined under Ali Vardi. The Hindu zamindars became more and more autonomous and the whole financial set up of the nawabi came to be controlled by the House of Jagat Seths. When Siraj tried to bring the Jagat Seths and Hindu zamindars under greater control, they joined hands with the ever rebellious Afghan and Turani commanders of the nawabi army. If Siraj eliminated the Seth brothers, then his regime would suffer a liquidity crisis. Without the aid of the Hindu zamindars, he could not collect revenue and run the civil administration of Bengal. If he dismissed his Afghan and Turani commanders, then who would command his soldiers? When the crunch came, Siraj in a sense was suffering from what could be termed as prisoner’s dilemma. The EIC confident of its recent military success against the Carnatic nawabs decided to take an aggressive stance towards Siraj. When Siraj decided to eliminate the EIC, then Jagat Seths and the Hindu zamindars decided to join hands with the ‘hat wearers’. Both these groups had financial interest in colluding with the EIC. The Jagat Seths loaned money at high interest not only to the nawab, but also to the EIC and the French East India Company.113 Moreover, the zamindars needed the EIC to sell their produce (oil seeds, tobacco, poppy seeds, cotton, silk and food products) and saltpetre from Bihar in the extra Indian market.114 So, the disgruntled stake holders of Bengal Nawabi joined hands with the EIC to replace Siraj with a more pliant nawab. The New Cambridge School is partly right in arguing that several Indian

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groups were eager to collaborate with the EIC. However, EIC was their chosen candidate because of its military strength. What the Indian elite collaborators did not realize was the fact that the EIC had its own plan. The Company did not want merely new friendly nawab, but rather a puppet. And the Company was acquiring a territorial ambition in order to pay for Indian goods with Indian revenues rather than bullion imported from Britain. The disgruntled Indian elites of Bengal failed to understand that the EIC was not merely a trading body, but the long arm of an aggressive fiscalmilitary state with global ambitions which had come into existence during the ‘long eighteenth century’. Historian G.J. Bryant has a valid point when he writes that the Indian rulers did not appreciate the fact that the Western maritime trading companies had global reach. Warships carrying military assets could transfer military power from the Atlantic to the Indian Ocean. The Indian rulers concentrated on indigenous rivalries and the Afghan menace across the North-West Frontier passes rather than on the vulnerability of the extensive coasts of the subcontinent that gave the dominant British sea power easy ingress at many points into the interior.115 Siraj’s military capability is regarded as a bad joke by most of the historians. One exception is D.C. Verma.116 Siraj’s army in total numbered some 50,000 cavalry and infantry (including 20,000 musketeers raised by the jemadars).117 On 5 June 1756, a detachment of 3,000 men of the Bengal Nawabi Army captured the EIC’s factory at Kasimbazar garrisoned by 42 European soldiers supported by Indian auxiliaries. The principal centre of EIC in Bengal Subah was Calcutta. Calcutta and Murshidabad were the two largest cities of the Bengal Subah and each city had more than 100,000 inhabitants.118 Siraj with 20,000 infantry and cavalry, 300 elephants and 500 guns firing iron cannon balls marched towards Calcutta which was defended by 2,200 (including 424 Europeans meaning British, Armenians and Portuguese mercenaries) soldiers of the EIC.119 The point to be noted is that both the Indian powers and the EIC were not above using European military mercenaries when it suited them. Even the Petrine polity of Muscovy recruited Western European mercenaries in an attempt to modernize the Russian Army.120 In fact, one can say that a global military labour market was operating in Eurasia. In the hot summer, Siraj’s army was able to cover 160 miles in 11 days.121 It was a good marching record by global standard and



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a far cry from Irvine’s assertion that the later Mughal armies were able to cover only five miles per day.122 Despite possessing large heavy guns, Siraj was able to march quite quickly towards Calcutta thanks to the big oxen bred in Purnea, which were used to pull the ‘fire spewing monsters’.123 On 16 June, the nawabi force opened its attack on Calcutta. After Siraj captured Calcutta on 20 June 1756, Manik Chand was put in command of this city. So, Siraj’s force was more combat effective compared to the other armies of the Mughal successor states like the Hyderabad Nawabi Army and the Arcot Nawabi army which were never able to defeat the EIC or the French in any open encounter. However, Siraj allowed the EIC to retain its base at Falta. This was due to several reasons. Overseas mercantile commerce brought revenues to the nawab’s coffers. Somewhere between 5 to 15 per cent of the Bengal Nawabi’s income, came from taxation on internal trade.124 This brisk internal trade was geared to meet the high demands of the European trading companies for Indian agro-commercial goods. Further, the British, hoped Siraj can be used as a counterpoise to the French and Dutch trading companies in Bengal.125 The point to be noted is that complete extirpation of the British power in Bengal in particular and India in general would result in rapid rise of French power. And the French had designs on establishing an empire in India. For instance, in 1751, Dupleix wrote to Bussy that he was thinking of sending 500 European infantry and some light artillery in order to bring Bengal under French control.126 So, like Ali Vardi, Siraj had to play a dangerous balancing game among the various Western maritime powers. P.J. Marshall, the British historian asserts that Bengal had become the most important area in Asia for the EIC’s trade and it was a rich prize to be incorporated into a British Empire based on overseas commerce.127 Bengal’s share in the EIC’s total India trade came to about 34.5 per cent just before Plassey. And Bengal’s share in Great Britain’s international trade came to about 3.3 per cent.128 Sushil Chaudhury, the Nationalist Bengali historian, asserts that British expansionism in Bengal was the product of greed of the EIC’s officials engaged in private trade. They, rather than London, were the prime mover behind EIC’s aggressive stance against the nawab.129 At the local level, a case of sub-imperialism can be made. But, at another level, global imperial tendencies of the British state cannot be discounted.

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The sub-imperialists could not have acted without the knowledge that they would ultimately be backed by the imperialistic London government. The Royal Navy and the British Army always backed the EIC’s military adventures in India. Overall, in Bengal’s case, one can say that trade followed the flag. Hence, the response of the EIC after the loss of Calcutta was immediate and severe. The EIC brought reinforcements by sea from the Madras and Bombay presidencies. 130 This was possible due to international developments. The French and British forces in India were increasing from the time of War of Austrian Succession (1740–8). The Seven Years War in Europe (1756–63) resulted in the French and the British fighting each other with their Indian allies in South India. This in turn resulted in expansion of the British military infrastructure in South Asia. In 1762, the British Army had 3,700 men in India plus ground forces (white plus brown soldiers) of the EIC which increased with time.131 On 24 December 1756, the reinforcements sent from Madras captured Budge Budge.132 The bombardment of this fort by the British ships spread terror among the nawab’s soldiers. The latter had not seen anything like that before.133 Thanks to British maritime superiority in the Bay of Bengal, the EIC could transport military stores and troops from Madras to Bengal. Six Royal Navy warships escorted seven troopships from the Coromondal Coast to Bengal.134 With 2,500 Europeans and 2,100 sepoys, Colonel Robert Clive and Rear-Admiral Charles Watson recaptured Calcutta on 2 January 1757. This was partly possible because Manik Chand put up a half-hearted fight.135 Michael Edwardes writes that had Manik Chand been able to co-ordinate the action of his cavalry and infantry, Clive would have been in dire straits.136 Then, Siraj himself with his main army (25,000 personnel) marched again towards Calcutta.137 When the main army reached the outskirts of Calcutta, the EIC made a parley for peace. Due to British deception, Siraj let his guard down and taking advantage of it, Clive on 5 February 1757 launched a nocturnal commando attack against the nawab’s camp. Clive’s casualty was 182 personnel, a serious loss considering the small force of his size. Though the Bengal Nawabi Army suffered 1,300 casualties, due to the large manpower base, they could be replaced. But, Siraj’s officers made repeated demands



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that peace be made with the British. A disheartened Siraj retreated to Murshidabad.138 Despite the assertion of the culturalist military historians, deception and treachery was also part of the so-called Western Way of Warfare. Of course, one can argue that the EIC after creating a hybrid army also generated a hybrid strategy which included Eastern elements like deception, subterfuge and treachery along with Western elements like conducting decisive set piece battle. Siraj did not take an overtly aggressive stance against EIC in the beginning of 1757 because he feared that Abdali might march through Rohilkhand and Awadh into Bengal. Abdali retired from India only in April 1757.139 Since all the invasions of India until 1756 had occurred through the North-West passes, Siraj could not be faulted for giving priority to the latent threat posed by Abdali over the EIC. In fact, during February–March, fearing advance of the Afghans through Awadh into Bihar; Siraj actually offered Clive Rs.100,000 per day, if the latter with his army joined the nawabi force to fight Abdali. This in turn encouraged Clive to attack French Chandannagar while the nawab’s attention was focused on Abdali.140 As Clive’s force advanced towards Murshidabad, Siraj marched to confront him. Siraj’s date with history was 23 June 1757. At Plassey, the backbone of Clive’s infantry comprised of 900 Europeans and 2,300 sepoys. And of them, 700 were recruited from Bihar and the rest were Telingas.141 The British authors had the habit of deliberately overestimating the size of indigenous forces and underestimating the size of their own force in order to portray their saga of heroism. According to the British authors, Siraj had 18,000 cavalry and 50,000 infantry.142 Siraj’s force was divided into several battle groups under different commanders. The three big divisions were commanded by Rai Durlabh, Yar Latif Khan and Mir Jafar. They were in touch with the EIC. Mohan Lal Kashmiri and Mir Madan, Siraj’s two trusted generals commanded 7,000 infantry (Rajputs and Pathans), 5,000 cavalry and two heavy guns.143 Thus, Siraj had about 12,000 crack cavalry and infantry on whose loyalty he could depend. However, early in the battle when Mir Madan was killed by a British artillery shot, the nawab lost heart. He could not depend on his grandees anymore.144 At about 12 noon, Lieutenant John Corneille of the 39th Royal Regiment noted in his autobiography: ‘The enemy’s fire now began to slacken and, shortly after, entirely ceased. In this situation

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we remained until two o’ clock, when it was perceived that they were leaving the field, returning to their camp.’145 Siraj soon left the battlefield for Murshidabad. Even then all was not lost. The Bengal Nawabi Army could have retreated and regrouped for another action later. In such a scenario, even if Clive wanted, he could not have been able to pursue the retreating enemy force as the EIC lacked cavalry. But, this was not to be. When Siraj left, then his Bakshi Mir Jafar negotiated with Clive. Corneille noted that out of 50,000 Bengal Nawabi soldiers present (including 15,000 cavalry), about 500 were killed and wounded. 146 At Plassey, the EIC’s loss was trifling: 20 Europeans and 50 sepoys died.147 Iqtidar Alam Khan asserts that the presence of cast iron field guns gave the British a technical edge at Plassey.148 Siraj’s army lacked them but the long range heavy artillery of the nawabi force did much execution among Clive’s force at the beginning of the battle. In fact, one could argue that at Plassey, Siraj enjoyed firepower advantage against Clive. The Bengal Nawabi Army true to its Mughal heritage had 24- and 32-pounders while Clive’s force had 6-pounders. Four field artillery pieces in the Bengal Nawabi Army were manned by 40 Frenchmen under one Sinfray. According to one author, only 12,000 troops, constituting the Bengal Nawabi Army’s vanguard was engaged.149 What would have happened if the whole Bengal Nawabi Army attacked the EIC’s force at Plassey was anybody’s guess. Probably, Clive would then have become a prisoner at a goal in Murshidabad. Plassey was won by the EIC not because of technological or financial superiority of the British, but for the fact that the ramshackle Bengal Nawabi Army’s command system disintegrated. Colonel S. Rivett-Carnac, a cavalry officer of the Raj writing in 1890 rightly noted: ‘It was only when treason had done her work, when treason had driven the Nawab from the field, when treason had removed his army from its commanding position, that Clive was able to advance without the certainty of being annihilated.’150 In contrast to the treacherous nawabi nobility, the middle class British youth who filled the officer corps of the EIC Army were motivated by nationalism and considered loyalty to brother officers as a prerequisite of gentlemanly honour, which remains a crucial ingredient of military professionalism even today.151



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After placing Mir Jafar on the masnad (throne) of Bengal, Clive realized that a bigger military establishment was required for sustaining the nawab and also to guard the province against ‘Indian’ powers like Awadh and the Marathas. In 1760, in Bengal, the European military establishment was increased to 2,000 and the number of sepoys rose to 5,000.152 Ironically, the British tapped the same communities which had sourced the ‘native’ military establishments. For instance, the John Company’s regular infantry depended more and more on the upper caste peasants recruited from Bihar and eastern Uttar Pradesh. They came to be known as Purbiyas. These Purbiyas had supplied musketeers in Sher Shah’s force, the Mughal Army, and in the armies of Bengal and Awadh nawabis.153 And for cavalry, the British started recruiting the Rohilla cavalry from Western Uttar Pradesh; the same Rohillas who formed the backbone of Awadh and Bengal nawabi cavalry forces. In 1763, the EIC in Bengal raised 1,200 Mughal cavalry (also known as irregular cavalry) for service upcountry. The Council of Calcutta agreed that in Indian conditions, Mughal cavalry was more combat effective as compared to British cavalry.154 Regular monthly pay in cash not only attracted the Indians to Company’s military service, but continued employment also made the former loyal to the British military establishment.155 The combined population of Bihar and Bengal came to be roughly about 25 million.156 The revenues and manpower of Bengal Presidency made this military expansion possible. For instance, Bengal bore 60 per cent of the military expenditure incurred by the ‘Honourable’ Company during the Second Anglo-Mysore War (1780–4).157 And Bengal’s rice fed the sepoys in the service of the EIC who fought the other Indian powers. And this process would continue till the first half of the nineteenth century. The land revenues from Bengal enabled the EIC to build up the largest volunteer ‘native’ Western style army in the world. By 1849, the EIC’s ‘native’ army numbered 200,000 men and mainly with this instrument, the Marathas and the Sikhs were defeated. The land locked Maratha Confederacy and the Khalsa Kingdom deprived of overseas commerce could not cope with the financial power of the EIC.158 And export of cotton and opium from Bengal to Europe and different parts of Asia enabled the EIC to balance its Asian trade. In 1820, the Asian trade constituted 16 per cent of Britain’s

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global trade.159 Some economic historians argue that British naval spending and Britain’s share of the global trade made possible by its military victories accelerated the Industrial Revolution.160 The game of musical chair continued in Bengal, when the hapless Mir Jafar was replaced with Mir Qasim (Nawab for the period 1760–3) by J.Z. Holwell just after Clive left Calcutta. Mir Qasim was the son-in-law of Mir Jafar and commander of the decrepit Bengal Nawabi Army. The EIC agreed to make him nawab in return for the districts of Burdwan, Midnapur and Chittagong. The EIC from a trading body was on the path of becoming a territorial empire. In addition to land revenue from these three districts, the EIC hoped to extract more wealth and trading privileges from the new nawab. However, Mir Qasim was more active than Mir Jafar. The EIC’s civil servants engaged in internal trade refused to pay custom duties to the nawab’s officials. This resulted in serious loss of revenue on part of the nawab’s government. In response, Mir Qasim abolished all tolls and customs which also equally benefitted the indigenous traders not associated with the EIC.161 Mir Qasim transferred his capital from Murshidabad to Mungher and started raising a new army. He modelled his new army on the EIC’s Westernized infantry force.162 For officering his own Westernized force, he utilized several foreign mercenaries like an Armenian Gurgin Khan and the German military mercenary Sambre.163 At that time, many European military mercenaries had flooded the Indian military labour market in the hope of getting lucrative jobs in the service of the Indian potentates who were trying to model their military organization on Western lines in order to check the rising power of the EIC. The politico-military landscape in mid-eighteenth century India was somewhat similar to the conditions obtaining in West and Central Europe during the Thirty Years War (1598–1648). While Gurgin Khan set up a factory for manufacturing artillery at Mungher, Sambre raised sepoys equipped and organized on Western lines. Mir Qasim had been able to close the technological gap between the EIC and Bengal Nawabi Army.164 But, the nawabi force lagged behind in the spheres of command, doctrine and tactics. With his new army, Mir Qasim tried to fight the EIC. On 5 September 1763, Major Adams attacked Mir Qasim’s army at Udwahnala and defeated it. Mir Qasim fled to Nawab Shuja-ud-daulah



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of Awadh. Why was Mir Qasim defeated so easily? A group of mercenary foreign commanders was no equivalent to the presence of a professional officer corps with its hierarchical chain of command which the EIC possessed. These mercenary commanders proved to be disloyal and were interested only in filling their own pockets. Instead of fighting to the last, these mercenary commanders deserted at the earliest opportunity and took service with another Indian ruler. For instance Samru, after Udwahnala joined the Awadh Nawabi Army.165 Like Mir Qasim, Mahadji Sindia (1730–94) and Daulat Rao Sindia (r. 1794–1827) as well as the Khalsa Kingdom established by Ranjit Singh (1780–1839) depended on foreign mercenary commanders. Mir Qasim lacked the time to build up an indigenous professional officer corps. But, Mahadji and Daulat Rao Sindia and the Khalsa Kingdom made no attempt like the Petrine State of Muscovy to teach the indigenous nobility the art of officering Westernized military formations.166 After the defeat of Mir Qasim, Mir Jafar was again placed on the masnad. Shuja, the Nawab of Awadh who was also the Wazir (Prime Minister of the dying Mughal Empire) now responded to the British conquest of Bengal. He coveted Bengal. In addition, the expansion of the British power near his eastern frontier was a threat by itself. The Company’s military establishment in Bengal was in the throes of expansion. In 1764, the EIC’s Bengal Army had 10,000 sepoys. Major Hector Munro with a force of 1,083 British infantry and eight sepoy battalions, supported by 1,000 Mughal cavalry, advanced against the Awadh Army. In total, Munro had 7,072 personnel supported by 28 guns. Shuja had 50,000 men and 130 cannons.167 Like Mir Qasim, Shuja believed that the traditional Indian military organization was inadequate to successfully meet the firepower heavy capital intensive Company’s army. So, Shuja hired the trained battalions of Samru and Madoc.168 The decisive battle of Buxar was fought on 23 October 1764. Shuja opened the battle by opening artillery fire on the EIC’s force. Then, 5,000 Afghan cavalry (they had fought with Ahmad Shah Abdali during the Third Battle of Panipat [14 January 1761] and had joined the Awadh military service) made a charge on the left flank of Company’s infantry organized in line formation. The British infantry organized in two lines, thanks to their discipline, formed an

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oblong square and poured grape and musketry fire on the Afghan cavalry, which then recoiled.169 This was a tactical innovation of great importance. The Duke of Wellington during the Battle of Waterloo (18 June 1815) organized his British infantry in squares against the cavalry charges launched by Marshal Michel Ney. Ney’s French cavalry failed to break through Wellington’s square. Both the Afghan cavalry at Buxar and Ney’s French cavalry at Waterloo made the mistake of charging disciplined infantry without the support of horse artillery guns.170 Then, Shuja’s Hindustani cavalry unlike Siraj’s treacherous cavalry, made a charge against the Company’s infantry. This could have been decisive, but thanks to the presence of allied Mughal cavalry, the Awadh cavalry’s charge was checked. Then, EIC’s infantry supported by field artillery advanced and defeated Shuja’s force. The total casualties of EIC’s force came to about 825 and the allied Mughal cavalry suffered 67 casualties.171 What the European authors miss is the fact, that without the crucial support provided by Mughal cavalry, Munro would not have been able to win at Buxar. In addition, Shuja’s mistake of launching cavalry charge without providing artillery support and superior discipline and loyalty of the British infantry because of their continuous drilling, made possible due to their organization in permanent regiments completed the Company’s victory. In comparison, like the mercenaries of medieval Western Europe, the military mercenaries (both Western Europeans and Asians) proved disloyal to their royal employers.172 For instance, when the tide of the battle turned in favour of EIC, the Afghan mercenary cavalry of Awadh Army instead of offering last ditch resistance started plundering Shuja’s camp and then withdrew from the battlefield.173 After Buxar, the British in Bengal faced no more conventional military threat. Clive returned to Bengal in February 1765. After the death of Mir Jafar, his son Najm-ud-daulah was raised to the throne. He was not allowed to maintain any troops as the EIC took over the task of Bengal’s security. The nawab was to run the civil administration on the advice of the EIC.174 In 1767, a detachment from the EIC’s Bengal Army was sent under Colonel Peach to the Northern Circars to threaten Hyderabad, the capital of Nizam, who was then allied with Haidar Ali.175



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Consolidation of the EIC State in Bengal The construction of a military-fiscal regime in Bengal due to demands of higher quantum of revenue brought the British directly in contact with the turbulent peasant society of Bengal. Extraction of more revenue resulted in pushing the tentacles of the state deeper down into the rural society. And this in turn activated the local stakeholders to challenge the Company Raj. Dispersed military rebellions broke out continuously. Pax Britannica is a myth. In order to maintain order in the public sphere, the EIC resorted to pacification campaigns (in modern terminology it is termed as counter-insurgency operations). The biggest low intensity threat which the EIC faced in the Bengal Presidency was posed by the armed sannyasis and fakirs. The Marxist authors claim that there was bonhomie between the Hindu sannyasis and the Muslim fakirs and their anti-state violence represented a sort of peasant war.176 The Bengali scholar Ananda Bhattacharya, rightly critiques the romanticized bhai-bhai thesis of fakirs and sannyasis as charted by the Marxist authors. Further, Bhattacharya demolishes the Marxist myth that the armed ascetics were fighting for the poor peasants. The armed ascetics were not E.J. Hobsbawm’s ‘social bandits’, nor were they local sons of the soil of Bengal. He rightly shows that if anything the marauding activities of the sannyasis and the fakirs further undermined the deteriorating economy of Bengal.177 I argue that the fakirs and sannyasis frequently fought against each other. And the armed raids by the sannyasis and fakirs were responses by the anti-state groups to the centralizing trends of the EIC state. By trying to establish a bureaucratic state structure, the Company was attempting to bring all the itinerant mobile groups under direct surveillance and control. However, at times, disgruntled marginal peasants also joined the ranks of the armed ascetics. In pre-modern India, it was common practice for the ‘holy men’ to move around with armed retainers. Different sects and armed religious ascetics of the Hindus and Muslims fought publicly against each other. From twelfth century onwards, large numbers of Muslim fakirs and dervishes familiar with the use of arms, roamed throughout the subcontinent and mercilessly plundered and killed the members of the Hindu ascetic orders. In response, the Hindu yogis who were disciples of Goraknath took to arms. During the reign of Mughal

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Emperor Akbar, armed sannyasis appeared. They were known as Gosains and Dasnamis. They indulged freely in the use of flesh and intoxicating liquor and were not believers in the Hindu ahimsa (non-violence) doctrine. They were partisans of Lord Shiva.178 These holy men and their armed retainers exacted contributions from the villagers and zamindars and often also plundered them. Occasionally, the war bands of the armed ascetics also hired themselves as mercenaries during the internecine wars among the Indian princes. Despite their exactions, the common men generally held them in great respect. After the dislocation of the Bengal Nawabi by the British, the frequency and incidence of the raids by armed fakirs and sannyasis increased in Bengal and Bihar. This was due to several reasons. The collapse of the traditional order probably emboldened them to fish in the troubled water before the new rulers could establish a secure public order. Moreover, increasing British taxation and demobilization of the indigenous armies created unemployment among the armed mercenaries. And they, along with the disgruntled peasantry, joined the ranks of the armed ascetic war bands. Pillage and plunder became their way of life.179 It is to be noted that demobilization of the forces of the Maratha chieftains in the aftermath of the Second Anglo-Maratha War (1803–5) and expansion of British land revenue demands into Central India gave rise to the Pindari war bands.180 The economic condition of Bengal was declining even before Plassey and the British intervention further accelerated the process. The Maratha raids between 1740 and 1751 dislocated the economy of West Bengal. But, even in East Bengal, the economic condition was not good. For instance, in 1761, only 25 per cent of Chittagong district was cultivated. This was due to labour scarcity and sluggish grain prices, caused partly by a reduced money supply due to the sharp drop in import of bullion by the EIC.181 In 1765, the EIC under the stewardship of Clive obtained diwani of Bengal and Bihar from the Mughal Emperor Shah Alam II. The EIC was under the obligation of paying Rs.2,600,000 (£300,000 at the then rate of exchange) annually to the emperor.182 This was considerably low compared to Rs.1 crore paid by Murshid Quli Khan and Rs.1 crore 25 lakh remitted by Shuja-ud-din annually.183 But, the Mughal central government was not getting anything out of Bengal from



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the time Ali Vardi became the nawab. And Shah Alam II was not in a position to extract any revenue from the Bengal Subah under the British due to his dwindling military power. So, the ‘deal’ seemed good from the emperor’s perspective. This meant that the British now had legal permission to collect revenue from Bengal and Bihar. The EIC had become the diwan, but not legally the rulers of Bengal. There was still a nawab named Najm-ud-daulah who was in charge of judiciary and police, but propped up by British military power.184 In 1769, thanks to the political power enjoyed by the Company, the British traders brought up all the food grains in Bengal and next year, they started selling it at high price. This partly resulted in a famine that carried away probably one-third of Bengal and Bihar’s population. And the starving peasantry joined the ascetic war bands in plundering the kacharis (revenue offices) of the zamindars, who happened to be the main pillar of Company administration of rural Bengal.185 During the 1760s and 1770s, the Company officials coerced the spinners and the weavers to produce for the EIC at lower rates and used their newly gained political power to monopolize inland trade.186 These sorts of British intrusion into the economic and social set up of Bengal encouraged the peasantry to challenge the colonial state. Nature, occasionally added fuel to the fire of discontent among the peasants. After the failure of rain in 1768 and 1769, South Bihar was devastated by drought.187 The Bengal famine of 1769–70 was caused by excessive rainfall and crop failure.188 And such natural disasters pushed the hapless peasantry towards the folds of the armed fakirs and sannyasis. Many sannyasis settled in Mymensingh district of Bihar and the fakirs established religious centres (dargahs) in North Bengal which functioned as their bases.189 The sannyasis were Dasnami Naga Gosains of the Benaras akhara (headquarters of these bands). They provided credit to the landholders of Bengal and Bihar and also functioned as mercenaries for various chieftains. The fakirs were led by the pirs of the Sufi orders. The Gosains in fact fought in the Battle of Buxar with the Awadh Nawabi Army. The armed ascetic war bands were organized and could be categorized as mini rebel armies. While some had matchlocks and muskets, the rest were armed with spears, swords and javelins.190 For instance, in January 1795, at Purnea, Fakir Shah Karim maintained 15 cavalry and 300

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barkandazs (men armed with matchlocks). Each barkandaz was paid Rs.5 per month and a trooper was paid Rs.15 per month. Many more recruits joined him from Balia Pargana. To each recruit, Karim paid the salary of one month in advance.191 Atis K. Dasgupta claims that at the height of insurgency, the numbers of sannyasis and fakirs rose to about 50,000.192 The sannyasi raids in Bengal generally lasted from 1763 to c.1800.193 The EIC was able to subdue the scourge of the armed holy men by implementing several kinetic and non-kinetic counterinsurgency measures. Since the EIC had no organized police force in the first half of the eighteenth century, the army was used for pacification duties. However, division of the regiments into small units for checking dispersed armed rebellions proved detrimental to military discipline. European troops were not used for fighting the insurgents. This was due to the British belief that indigenous soldiers were better acclimatized and they knew the terrain better. Also, the locals would be less alarmed when the sepoys and sowars, instead of white soldiers came in contact with them. So, the British raised a large number of paramilitary forces like the Sebundy Corps, local regiments, etc. In 1766, Clive raised 9,000 men organized in 11 pargana battalions for collection of revenues. These units were manned by officers deputed from the EIC’s Bengal Army. In 1773, the pargana battalions were replaced with militia units officered by invalided British officers and sepoys.194 In addition, the British collectors (equivalent to present-day district magistrates) were allowed to raise bakandazs during emergencies.195 The EIC also conducted pacification in the Karnataka in the 1750s. The military techniques involved construction of roads, deforestation, establishment of thanas (police posts), etc. In pre-British India, the zamindar controlled local police in the rural areas. The zamindars maintained paiks and barkandazs commanded by the dafadars. The British replaced them with local police. In 1792, a regulation was passed under which the magistrates were given power over the police in the countryside. The zamindars were ordered to disband their local militias. Over 20 square miles, one darogha was appointed. He was assisted by a jemadar, bakshi and some barkandazs paid by the government to maintain law and order. The regulation of 1793 gave power to the magistrates to



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appoint the daroghas. From 1807 onwards, every darogha in charge of a zillah entertained on a small salary, an agent whose duty was to attend the magistrate’s court and communicate to his employer all the happenings there.196 The chief non-kinetic measure initiated by the British for stabilizing the Bengal countryside was the introduction of a revenue administrative measure known as the Permanent Settlement. In 1770, the agrarian scenario in Bengal was characterized by scarcity of labour and vast stretches of uncultivated fertile land. Between 1789 and 1800, the population of Bengal rose from 22 to 27 million. Both the colonial state and its principal collaborating class in the countryside, i.e. the zamindars benefitted from the high fertility regime.197 Further, innovations in the field of revenue collection were initiated by the EIC. In 1772, the Directors asked the EIC to take direct control of the revenue collection process.198 In 1792, William Pitt the Younger, the British Prime Minister on the advice of Lord Cornwallis (Governor-General of India from 1786 to 1793) instituted the Permanent Settlement. This measure permanently fixed the rents paid by the zamindars to the colonial state.199 The zamindars shorn of their judicial, police and military power now concentrated on development of agriculture in their zamindaris, which somewhat contributed to rural stability. Historian Tirthankar Roy writes that the EIC reformulated the relation between the state and the landlords by offering marketable property rights in exchange for compliance to the colonial order. The Company made use of the concept of private property in land to extract obedience from the landlords. Between 1770 and 1793, the EIC instituted a set of courts and laws for verifying claims to landed property. The Company made the polity-landlord relationship a contractual one. The failure to pay revenue led to the resumption and sale of the estate to the highest bidder. The revenue auction element diluted and weakened the military element among the landlords and brought in the bankers and state officials into the landlord cadre. Further, the move towards a form of ownership of land defensible in the courts of law strengthened the landlords’ property right. These two principles were fused in the Permanent Settlement of 1793.200 Several British counter-insurgency measures like road building, raising of barkandazs, use of thanas, etc., to an extent were carryovers

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of indigenous pacification measures. However, the institution of police and paramilitary elements and courts were new features imported from the West. So, even British counter-insurgency was an amalgam of Western and Eastern elements. At the beginning of the nineteenth century, due to combination of kinetic and non-kinetic counter-insurgency measures, the British were able to eliminate the armed ascetics from the politico-military landscape of Bengal. The armed sannyasis driven out of Bengal Subah took service with the indigenous chieftains of North India.201 Anti-colonial armed warriors under the leadership of holy men re-emerged in the North-West Frontier during the mid-nineteenth century. And the most famous of them, the Faqir of Ipi of Waziristan remained at large even in 1947, when the Raj came to an end. To go back to late-eighteenth-century India, one faces the question why a subcontinent wide anti-colonial/British guerrilla struggle did not emerge among the Indians (if at all this term could be used)? After all, the British were driven out of North America by the conventional-cum-guerrilla struggle launched by the white settlers of the New World. P.J. Marshall asserts that the Indian elites found collaboration with the British Empire profitable while the American elites found that secession from the British Empire was in their interest.202 Besides Marshall, the collaboration thesis is also pushed by other British historians like C.A. Bayly. Three factors explain the different Indian scenario. First, in precolonial India the state was friable and sovereignty was so extensively divisible that a unified social community with a coherent ideology could not emerge.203 Religious disunity among the people of Bengal was another factor which hampered anti-British struggle. And modern historians are loath to touch the religious angle due to current political sensitivity. The Vaishnavas emerged as a powerful sect in Bengal’s countryside. The rise of this reformist Hindu religion was partly in response to the spread of Islam in the rural areas of Bengal. Both the Delhi Sultanate and Mughal Empire indirectly encouraged the spread of Islam in Bengal’s countryside by granting lands to Islamic religious and educational institutions, providing loans and rent free land grants to Muslim cultivators, etc. Loss of political power on part of the Hindu rulers partly facilitated the otherworldly asceticism of the Vaishnavas. A Vaishnava-Islamic joint front against the EIC



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was not possible. In several places of the world, religion played an important role in activating insurgency against an occupying power. For instance, in Spain, Catholic Christianity motivated the Spanish peasants to conduct guerrilla war against the occupying Napoleonic force. The third factor was that the American rebels were actively supported by the French Navy which by defeating the Royal Navy cut the British sea lines of communication between Britain and North America. However, this proved to be a pyrrhic victory for the French. Participation in the American War of Independence (1775–83) caused a financial crisis for the French crown which in turn accelerated the demise of the ancien regime by initiating the French Revolution.204 In contrast, the British government backed by the Parliament was able to sustain itself by borrowing large amount of money at low rate of interest and partly due to the introduction of income tax. In fact, one could argue that the British fiscal-military state by creating a public debt and engaging in deficit financing initiated a Financial Revolution. Next we shift the focus to Asia in general and South Asia in particular.

Alternate Scenarios After the defeat of the Maratha Confederacy in the Second AngloMaratha War, the EIC acquired control over Orissa. By 1815, the British had conquered the Bengal Subah. The conquest of Bengal allowed the EIC to tap the economic and demographic resources, which in turn enabled the British to conquer India. Further, saltpetre and Indian military manpower accelerated Britain’s rise to the status of a global power. Neither technological nor economic, but managerial failure on part of the Indian potentates to build up strong cohesive polities and institutionally strong armies was their principal shortcoming vis-à-vis the West Europeans. The noted American historian of pre-modern China, Peter Lorge writes that the pre-modern Chinese empires were not nation states and the local elites had little stake in their continuation.205 The same applies for the pre-colonial polities of India. The failure of Chinese and Indian rulers to build strong states was partly the product of geographical factors beyond their control. A Mughal subah or a Manchu province was as big as the nation states of Western Europe which started emerging

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during the early modern era. Vast distance and huge demographic resources prevented even able emperors like Aurangzeb or Kangxi to construct bureaucratic institutions which reached the bottom levels of the society. Britain did not or was not able to conquer China. Only in the nineteenth century with massive technological advances, was Britain able to build up the bureaucratic Raj in the subcontinent. So, the Mughals could not be accused for not achieving something, which the British Empire achieved only in the second half of the nineteenth century. And this opens up the Pandora’s Box: Was British conquest of India inevitable? Counterfactual history is damned by E.H. Carr as ‘Cleopatra’s Nose’ history. Nevertheless, modern scholars are arguing that chance plays an important role in history. Posing historical counterfactuals could no more be marginalized as historians and political scientists taking cue from Quantum mechanics, are arguing that human society is a non-linear system. In a non-linear system, a minor input results in a massive unpredictable output. This is known as ‘butterfly effect’. This is because human systems comprise of several variables and the behaviour of these variables is erratic resulting in disorganized complexity. The non-linear system is unpredictable and the whole is not equal to the sum of its parts. Moreover, the non-linear system is characterized by feedback, trigger effects and threshold events (tipping points). Besides Quantum mechanics, the proponents of counterfactual history are also influenced by the German Romantic philosophy (Aufklarers), which emerged in reaction to Napoleon’s imposition of Enlightenment philosophy in Germany. Romantic thought challenged the principles of Enlightenment. Enlightenment philosophy gave rise to Newtonian mechanics which portray all systems as linear systems. But, mathematical certainties are not applicable to the non-linear systems. 206 While Enlightenment philosophy argued that every action is predictable, the Romantics focused on the creative spirit and its unpredictable actions. And wars, as noted by the Prussian philosopher Carl Philip Gottlieb von Clausewitz, are characterized by chance, unforeseen events and friction. Clausewitz was influenced by the Romantic philosophy. In Clausewitz’s framework, war is the product of dynamic interaction between three elements of trinity: passion, chance and reason.207 So, historical counterfactuals especially involving warfare challenges the



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structuralist perspective. The latter posits that what has happened was bound to happen and we humans are prisoners of vast impersonal forces beyond our control. Rather, different historical trajectories are possible at various moments. And practitioners of counterfactual history give space to human agency. Here, I pose two possible counterfactual scenarios as regards the British conquest of Bengal. Both the Manchu/Qings and the Mughals depended on cooperation of local elites for running the empires. And the loyalty of these gentry collaborators remained local.208 The Bengal Nawabi if anything was more dependent on the cooperation of the local gentry class. Instead of a politically and militarily weak regional nawabi, Bengal could have been part of a huge Indo-Persian Empire extending from Hooghly River in the east to Euphrates in the west. The Mughal field force was destroyed by Nadir Shah’s Persian Army at the Battle of Karnal (24 February 1739). When Nadir was staying in Delhi, he toyed for a moment with the idea of uniting the Mughal Empire with his Persian Empire. Nadir had probably the most combat effective army in Eurasia at that time. He had defeated the Afghans, the Safavids and the Russians. Nadir’s field force numbered about 130,000 cavalry, infantry and artillery men.209 The agrarian wealth of Bengal, buttressed with the best military machine of the world under the leadership of history’s one of the greatest generals would have posed a formidable challenge to the ‘hat wearers’. If not outright defeat, the level of military opposition would have been such that the EIC would have thought twice of instituting political changes in Bengal by using military forces. In such a scenario, the EIC would have kept itself confined within the limits of their factories. However, Nadir concentrated his gaze on Baghdad rather than Murshidabad. He left Delhi with his loot for fighting the Ottomans. And the weak Mughal Empire was in no position to protect the Bengal Subah from the EIC. Now, on to counterfactual scenario two. Peshwa Balaji Baji Rao’s grand strategy was to supplant the Mughal Empire with the Maratha Empire. So, he launched repeated expeditions in North India and Punjab. The aim was to extend Maratha rule from Attock to Jinji/ Gingee. This not only united the semi-independent Mughal grandees of North India, but also brought Abdali into India. If the Marathas had left Punjab outside their scope of operation, Abdali would not

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have intervened.210 Instead of launching raids into arid Rajasthan and against the Afghan troops of Abdali in Punjab, if the Marathas had launched repeated raids into Bengal during the 1750s as Peshwa Balaji Baji Rao and Raghuji Bhonsle had done in the 1740s, the EIC would have thought twice of moving into the open field to cross swords with them. In the 1750s, the EIC had no counter against the Maratha light horse. In fact, during the First Anglo-Maratha War (1775–82), Maratha light cavalry’s ganimi kava (mobile large-scale guerrilla warfare) resulted in Brigadier-General Thomas Wyndham Goddard’s retreat in the Western Ghats.211 When Balaji Baji Rao and Raghuji Bhonsle came into Bengal, the EIC as evident from their correspondence was afraid of the Morattoes (Marathas). But, the Maratha concentration of focus on Delhi and Punjab resulted in the Third Battle of Panipat (1761) which led to destruction of the Maratha field army. So, in 1764, the British only had to fight the regional Awadh Nawabi Army at Buxar. The Marathas however recovered and made a comeback in North India in 1770s under Mahadji Sindia. But, by then, the Marathas had ‘missed the bus’. The economic and demographic resources of Bengal and Karnataka had made the EIC powerful. The French were no more in India, to act as a counterbalancing force to the British. Worse, in the aftermath of Third Panipat, the Maratha central government had disintegrated. The four Maratha houses: Sindia, Gaekwad, Bhonsle and Holkar were at loggerheads. And the EIC played ‘divide and rule’ game against the divisive Maratha Confederacy.212 British success in Bengal was the product of synthesis of historical developments at three levels: local/regional, national/Asian plus transcontinental/global. At the local/regional level, the Mughal Subah was transformed into a politically and militarily weaker Bengal Nawabi. At the continental/Asian level, the Mughal Empire or the pan Indian indigenous central government capable of mobilizing large amount of military assets backed by political legitimacy, withered away due to a combination of internal and external threats. The Marathas, Nadir Shah and Abdali’s Afghans ended the military strength of the Mughals. And at the global/transcontinental level, the British state was emerging as a fiscal-military superpower and EIC was its agent in South Asia. And these three developments generated a conjunctural crisis for the regional indigenous state in Bengal. Even



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then, the historical trajectory was not fixed. As seen before, in 1739, if Nadir made a different strategic decision and instead of Baghdad had he focused on Murshidabad, then history would have taken a different turn. Another possible turning point was 1761. If the Pune Government directed their energy towards Bengal instead of Delhi, things would have been different. To sum up, the course of history is not predetermined. The only predictability about history is continuous chaotic unpredictability. Historians should remember the famous or infamous quote of Benjamin Franklin: For the want of a nail the shoe was lost, For the want of a shoe the horse was lost, For the want of a horse the rider was lost, For the want of a rider the battle was lost, For the want of a battle the kingdom was lost, And all for the want of a horseshoe-nail. Worse, one does not know when the horseshoe nail would be lost.

Acknowledgements I thank Professor Sabyasachi Bhattacharya for allowing me to write this piece. And I am grateful to three of my research scholars, namely Moumita, Dipro, Sohini and Arka for supplying me with many of the research materials and in helping me to revise the article.

Notes   1. Kenneth Pomeranz, The Great Divergence: China, Europe and the Making of the Modern World Economy, The Princeton Economic History of the Western World, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000.   2. Timothy May, The Mongol Art of War: Chinggis Khan and the Mongol Military System, Barnsley: Pen & Sword Military, 2007.   3. James H. Willbanks, ed., The Vietnam War, Aldershot: Ashgate, 2006.   4. Brijen K. Gupta, Sirajuddaulah and the East India Company, 1756–1757: Background to the Foundation of British Power in India, Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1962, p. 36.   5. C.A. Bayly, Indian Society and the Making of the British Empire, The New Cambridge History of India, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988, p. 2.

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  6. Francis J. Brooks, ‘Revising the Conquest of Mexico: Smallpox, Sources, and Populations’, in Warfare in Latin America, ed. Miguel A. Centeno, vol. 1, Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007, pp. 61–89.   7. Paul Kennedy, The Rise and Fall of the Great Powers: Economic Change and Military Conflict from 1500 to 2000, 1988; repr., London: Fontana, 1990.   8. Andrew de la Garza, The Mughal Empire at War: Babur, Akbar and the Indian Military Revolution, 1500–1605, London: Routledge, 2016; and Peter Lorge, War, Politics and Society in Early Modern China: 900–1795, 2005; repr., London and New York: Routledge, 2008, pp. 139–74.   9. Geoffrey Parker, The Military Revolution: Military Innovation and the Rise of the West, 1500–1800, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988.   10. Jeremy Black, ‘A Military Revolution? A 1660–1792 Perspective’, in The Military Revolution Debate: Readings on the Military Transformation of Early Modern Europe, ed. Clifford J. Rogers, Boulder: Westview Press, 1995, pp. 95–114.   11. Clifford J. Rogers, ed., ‘The Military Revolutions of the Hundred Years War’, in The Military Revolution Debate: Readings on the Military Transformation of Early Modern Europe, Boulder: Westview Press, 1995, pp. 55–93.   12. Kaushik Roy, Military Transition in Early Modern Asia, 1400–1750: Cavalry, Guns, Government and Ships, Bloomsbury Studies in Military History, London: Bloomsbury, 2014, pp. 63–75.   13. Richard M. Eaton, and Phillip B. Wagoner, Power, Memory, Architecture: Contested Sites on India’s Deccan Plateau, 1300–1600, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2014, pp. 250–1, 256, 258–62.   14. Daniel, Douglas A., ‘Tactical Factors in the Spanish Conquest of the Aztecs’, in Warfare in Latin America, ed. Centeno, vol. 1, pp. 53–60.   15. Kaushik Roy, ‘Firepower-Centric Warfare in India and the Military Modernization of the Marathas: 1740–1818’, Indian Journal of History of Science, vol. 40, no. 4, 2005, pp. 597–634; Kaushik Roy, ‘Technology and Transformation of Sikh Warfare: Dal Khalsa against the Lal Paltans, 1800–1849’, Indian Journal of History of Science, vol. 41, no. 4, 2006, pp. 383–410.   16. John Keegan, A History of Warfare, 1993; repr., New York: Vintage, 1994; Geoffrey Parker, ed., The Cambridge Illustrated History of Warfare: The Triumph of the West, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995; Victor Davis Hanson, Carnage and Culture: Landmark Battles in the Rise of Western Power, New York: Random, 2001.   17. Dirk H.A. Kolff, ‘End of an Ancien Régime: Colonial War in India, 1798–1818’, in Imperialism and War: Essays on Colonial Wars in Asia and Africa, ed. J.A. De Moor and H.L. Wesseling, Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1989,



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pp. 22–49; Jos Gommans, ‘Indian Warfare and Afghan Innovation during the Eighteenth Century’, Studies in History, n.s., vol. 11, no. 2, August 1995, pp. 261–80; Jos Gommans, Mughal Warfare: Indian Frontiers and High Roads to Empire, 1500–1700, Warfare and History, London: Routledge, 2002. Andre Wink, ‘Sovereignty and Universal Dominion in South Asia’, in Warfare and Weaponry in South Asia: 1000–1800, ed. Jos J.L. Gommans and Dirk H.A. Kolff, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2001, pp. 129–30. William Irvine, The Army of the Indian Moghuls: Its Organization and Administration, 1903; repr., Delhi: Low Price, 1994. Edward Creasy, Fifteen Decisive Battles of the World: From Marathon to Waterloo, 1908; repr., London: Dent, 1963. Colonel G.B. Malleson, The Decisive Battles of India: From 1746 to 1849 Inclusive, 1885; repr., Jaipur: Aavishkar, 1986. Christopher Storrs, ed., The Fiscal-Military State in Eighteenth-Century Europe: Essays in Honour of P.G.M. Dickson, Surrey: Ashgate, 2009. For an overview of this debate, see Muzaffar Alam and Sanjay Subrahmanyam, eds., The Mughal State: 1526–1759, 1998; repr., New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2009. K.K. Trivedi, ‘The Share of Mansabdars in State Revenue Resources: A Study of the Maintenance of Animals’, Studies in History, vol. 24, no. 4, December 1987, pp. 411–22. Stephen Peter Rosen, Societies and Military Power: India and Its Armies, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1996. Kaushik Roy, India’s Historic Battles: From Alexander the Great to Kargil, New Delhi: Permanent Black, 2004, pp. 54–79; Kaushik Roy, From Hydaspes to Kargil: A History of Warfare in India from 326 bc to ad 1999, New Delhi: Manohar, 2004, pp. 85–117; Ghulam Hussain Salim, Riyazu-s-Salatin (A History of Bengal), tr. Abdus Salim, 1903; repr., Delhi: Idarah-I Adabiyat-I Delli, 1975, p. 229. Adam Zamoyski, 1812: Napoleon’s Fatal March on Moscow, London: Harper Collins, 2004. Lorge, War, Politics and Society, p. 182; Bayly, Indian Society and the Making of the British Empire, p. 7; Gautam Sharma, Indian Army through the Ages, Bombay: Allied, 1979, p. 91. G. Perjes, ‘Army Provisioning, Logistics and Strategy in the Second Half of the Seventeenth Century’, in Warfare in Europe: 1650–1792, ed. Jeremy Black, Aldershot: Ashgate, 2005, p. 109; Joel Felix and Frank Tallett, ‘The French Experience, 1661–1815’, in The Fiscal-Military State in EighteenthCentury Europe: Essays in Honour of P.G.M. Dickson, ed. Christopher Storrs, Surrey: Ashgate, 2009, p. 151.

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  30. Christopher Storrs and H.M. Scott, ‘The Military Revolution and the European Nobility, c.1600–1800’, in Warfare in Europe: 1650–1792, ed. Jeremy Black, Aldershot: Ashgate, pp. 3–43; and Dennis E. Showalter, ‘Tactics and Recruitment in Eighteenth Century Prussia’, in Warfare in Europe: 1650–1792, ed. Jeremy Black, Aldershot: Ashgate, p. 436; Thomas F. Arnold, ‘War in Sixteenth-Century Europe: Revolution and Renaissance’, in European Warfare: 1453–1815, ed. Jeremy Black, London: Macmillan, 1999, pp. 40–1.   31. Dirk H.A. Kolff, Naukar, Rajput and Sepoy: The Ethnohistory of the Military Labour Market in Hindustan, 1450–1850, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990.   32. M. Athar Ali, ‘Political Structures of the Islamic Orient in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries’, in Mughal India: Studies in Polity, Ideas, Society, and Culture, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2006, pp. 94–105.  33. Salim, Riyazu-s-Salatin, p. 250.   34. Iqtidar Alam Khan, Gunpowder and Firearms: Warfare in Medieval India, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2004, p. 155.  35. Lorge, War, Politics and Society, p. 180.   36. Jean Deloche, Water Transport, vol. 2 of Transport and Communications in India prior to the Steam Locomotion, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1994, pp. 9–13.   37. Kalika Ranjan Qanungo and Jadunath Sarkar, ‘Muslim Conquest of Bengal’, in The History of Bengal, Volume 2: Muslim Period, ed. Jadunath Sarkar, 1943; repr., Delhi: B.R. Publishing Corporation, 2003, pp. 1–9.   38. Ibid., pp. 10–28.   39. K.R. Qanungo, ‘Bengal under the Mamluks (1227–87)’, in The History of Bengal, Volume 2: Muslim Period, ed. Jadunath Sarkar, 1943; repr., Delhi: B.R. Publishing Corporation, 2003, pp. 43–57.  40. Deloche, Water Transport, p. 13.   41. K.R. Qanungo, ‘Bengal under the House of Balban’, in The History of Bengal, Volume 2: Muslim Period, ed. Jadunath Sarkar, 1943; repr., Delhi: B.R. Publishing Corporation, 2003, pp. 58–88.   42. Jadunath Sarkar and Nirod Bhusan Roy, ‘Rise of the Ilyas Shahi Dynasty’, in The History of Bengal, Volume 2: Muslim Period, ed. Jadunath Sarkar, 1943; repr., Delhi: B.R. Publishing Corporation, 2003, pp. 101–19.   43. A.B.M. Habibullah, ‘Later Ilyas Shahi and the Abyssinians (1442–1498)’, in The History of Bengal, Volume 2: Muslim Period, ed. Jadunath Sarkar, 1943; repr., Delhi: B.R. Publishing Corporation, 2003, pp. 130–4.   44. A.B.M. Habibullah, ‘Husain Shahi Dynasty (1493–1538)’, in The History of Bengal, Volume 2: Muslim Period, ed. Jadunath Sarkar, 1943; repr., Delhi: B.R. Publishing Corporation, 2003, pp. 142–58.



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  45. Nirod Bhusan Roy, ‘Bengal under Imperial Afghan Rule’, in The History of Bengal, Volume 2: Muslim Period, ed. Jadunath Sarkar, 1943; repr., Delhi: B.R. Publishing Corporation, 2003, pp. 166–77.   46. Jadunath Sarkar, ‘Last Afghan Sultans (1553–1575)’, in The History of Bengal, Volume 2: Muslim Period, ed. Jadunath Sarkar, 1943; repr., Delhi: B.R. Publishing Corporation, 2003, pp. 179–86.   47. Jadunath Sarkar, ed., ‘Man Singh Kachhwa Viceroy’, in The History of Bengal, Volume 2: Muslim Period, 1943; repr., Delhi: B.R. Publishing Corporation, 2003, pp. 207–15.   48. Sudhindra Nath Bhattacharya, ‘State of Bengal under Jahangir’, in The History of Bengal, Volume 2: Muslim Period, ed. Jadunath Sarkar, 1943; repr., Delhi: B.R. Publishing Corporation, 2003, pp. 234–46.   49. Sudhindra Nath Bhattacharya, ‘Conquests of Islam Khan (1608–1613)’, in The History of Bengal, Volume 2: Muslim Period, ed. Jadunath Sarkar, 1943; repr., Delhi: B.R. Publishing Corporation, 2003, pp. 247–72.   50. Sudhindra Nath Bhattacharya, ‘Last Achievements of Islam Khan’, in The History of Bengal, Volume 2: Muslim Period, ed. Jadunath Sarkar, 1943; repr., Delhi: B.R. Publishing Corporation, 2003, pp. 274–88.   51. Sudhindra Nath Bhattacharya, ‘Twenty Years of Stagnation and Reverse (1613–33)’, in The History of Bengal, Volume 2: Muslim Period, ed. Jadunath Sarkar, 1943; repr., Delhi: B.R. Publishing Corporation, 2003, pp. 289–94; Deloche, Water Transport, pp. 13–14.   52. Bhattacharya, ‘Twenty Years of Stagnation and Reverse (1613–33)’, pp. 299–315.   53. Jagadish Narayan Sarkar and Jadunath Sarkar, ‘Mir Jumla in Bengal 1659–1663’, in The History of Bengal, Volume 2: Muslim Period, ed. Jadunath Sarkar, 1943; repr., Delhi: B.R. Publishing Corporation, 2003, pp. 342–50; O.H.K. Spate et al., India, Pakistan and Ceylon: The Regions, 1954; repr., New Delhi: B.I. Publications, 1972, pp. 602–3.   54. Jadunath Sarkar, ed., ‘Bengal under Shaista Khan and Ibrahim Khan’, in The History of Bengal, Volume 2: Muslim Period, 1943; repr., Delhi: B.R. Publishing Corporation, 2003, pp. 373–96.   55. Jadunath Sarkar, ed., ‘First Mughal Conquest of Bengal’, in The History of Bengal, Volume 2: Muslim Period, 1943; repr., Delhi: B.R. Publishing Corporation, 2003, pp. 187–206.   56. Jadunath Sarkar, ed., ‘Transformation of Bengal under Mughal Rule’, in The History of Bengal, Volume 2: Muslim Period, 1943; repr., Delhi: B.R. Publishing Corporation, 2003, pp. 216–23.   57. Spate et al., India, Pakistan and Ceylon, p. 602.   58. Yusuf Ali Khan, The Tarikh-i-Bangala-i-Mahabatjangi, tr. Abdus Subhan, Calcutta: Asiatic Society, 1982.

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  59. Jean Law de Lauriston, A Memoir of the Mughal Empire: Events of 1757– 1761, translated from the Original French by G.S. Cheema, New Delhi: Manohar, 2014.   60. For instance, see Stuart Reid, The Battle of Plassey 1757: The Victory that Won an Empire, Barnsley: Frontline, 2017, pp. vii–viii.   61. Jadunath Sarkar, ed., ‘Siraj-ud-daulah’, in The History of Bengal, Volume 2: Muslim Period, 1943; repr., Delhi: B.R. Publishing Corporation, 2003, pp. 468–80.   62. Sushil Chaudhury, ‘Was there a Crisis In Mid Eighteenth century Bengal?’, in Rethinking Early Modern India, ed. Richard B. Barnett, New Delhi: Manohar, 2002, pp. 129–52.   63. John McLane’s work deals mainly with the Burdwan zamindari rather than the Bengal Nawabi; see John R. McLane, Land and Local Kingship in Eighteenth-Century Bengal, 1993; repr., Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002. Gupta’s volume titled Sirajuddaulah and the East India Company is solid but dated.   64. For instance, see James P. Lawford, Britain’s Army in India: From its Origins to the Conquest of Bengal, London: George Allen & Unwin, 1978.   65. I. Bruce Watson, ‘Fortifications and the “Idea” of Force in Early English East India Company Relations with India’, Past and Present, no. 88, August 1980, pp. 70–87; Sanjay Subrahmanyam, ‘The Company and the Mughals between Sir Thomas Roe and Sir William Norris’, in Explorations in Connected History: Mughals and Franks, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2005, pp. 143–72.   66. F.G. Cardew, A Sketch of the Services of the Bengal Native Army to the Year 1895, 1903; repr., Faridabad: Today and Tomorrow’s Printers and Publishers, 1971, pp. 1–3; Salim, Riyazu-s-Salatin, pp. 8–9.   67. Sanjay Subrahmanyam, ‘On Indian Views of the Portuguese in Asia, 1500–1700’, in Explorations in Connected History, p. 33.  68. Bayly, Indian Society and the Making of the British Empire, p. 45.   69. Palmira Brummett, Ottoman Seapower and Levantine Diplomacy in the Age of Discovery, New York: SUNY Press, 1994.   70. Louise Levathes, When China Ruled the Seas: The Treasure Fleet of the Dragon Throne, 1405–1433, 1994; repr., New York: Oxford University Press, 1996.  71. Lawford, Britain’s Army in India, p. 47; Syed Hasan Askari, ‘Mughal Naval Weakness and Aurangzeb’s Attitude towards the Traders and Pirates of the Western Coast’, Proceedings of the 24th Session of the Indian History Congress, Delhi, 1961, pp. 162–70.   72. P.J. Marshall, Bengal, The British Bridgehead, Eastern India 1740–1828, The New Cambridge History of India, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987, p. 49.



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  73. Jadunath Sarkar, ed., ‘Bengal under Murshid Quli Khan’, in The History of Bengal, Volume 2: Muslim Period, 1943; repr., Delhi: B.R. Publishing Corporation, 2003, pp. 397–421.   74. Abdul Karim, Murshid Quli Khan and his Times, Dhaka: Asiatic Society of Pakistan, 1963.   75. John F. Richards, The Mughal Empire, The New Cambridge History of India, 1993; repr., New Delhi: Foundation, 2002.   76. Kali Kinkar Datta, ‘Shuja-ud-din Muhammad Khan’, in The History of Bengal, Volume 2: Muslim Period, ed. Jadunath Sarkar, 1943; repr., Delhi: B.R. Publishing Corporation, 2003, p. 425.  77. McLane, Land and Local Kingship in Eighteenth-Century Bengal, pp. 7, 23, 25, 27–8.   78. Jadunath Sarkar, tr., Bengal Nawabs, 1952; repr., Calcutta: Asiatic Society, 1998, p. 14.   79. Kali Kinkar Datta, ‘Alivardi Khan’, in The History of Bengal, Volume 2: Muslim Period, ed. Jadunath Sarkar, 1943; repr., Delhi: B.R. Publishing Corporation, 2003, pp. 440–1.   80. Mir Gholam Hussein-Khan, The Siyar-ul-Mutakherin, tr. John Briggs, vol. 1, London: Murray, 1832, pp. 457–61.   81. Kaushik Roy, Warfare in Pre-British India: 1500 bce to 1740 ce, London: Routledge, 2015, p. 147; Salim, Riyazu-s-Salatin, p. 241.   82. Iqtidar Alam Khan, Gunpowder and Firearms, pp. 117, 154.   83. Sarkar, tr., Bengal Nawabs, pp. 5, 13, 15–17.   84. D.C. Verma, Plassey to Buxar: A Military Study, New Delhi: K.B. Publications, 1976, p. 25.   85. Brett D. Steele, ‘Muskets and Pendulums: Benjamin Robins, Leonhard Euler, and the Ballistics Revolution’, in Warfare in Europe: 1650–1792, ed. Jeremy Black, Aldershot: Ashgate, pp. 515–49.   86. Iqtidar Alam Khan, Gunpowder and Firearms, p. 196.   87. Stewart Gordon, ‘The Limited Adoption of European-style Military Forces by Eighteenth Century Rulers in India’, Indian Economic and Social History Review, vol. 35, no. 3, September 1998, p. 232.   88. Peter Lorge, The Asian Military Revolution: From Gunpowder to the Bomb, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008; Gordon R. Mork, ‘Flint and Steel: A Study in Military Technology and Tactics in 17th Century Europe’, in Warfare in Europe: 1650–1792, ed. Jeremy Black, Aldershot: Ashgate, pp. 487–514; Douglas Streusand, ‘The Process of Expansion’, in Warfare and Weaponry in South Asia: 1000–1800, ed. Jos J.L. Gommans and Dirk H.A. Kolff, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, pp. 339–40.   89. P.   Sensarma, The Military History of Bengal, Calcutta: Naya Prokash, 1977, pp. 113–15; Atulchandra Roy, ‘Naval Strategy of the Mughals in

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Bengal’, Proceedings of the 24th Session of the Indian History Congress, Delhi, 1961, pp. 170–5.   90. Sarkar, tr., Bengal Nawabs, p. 8.   91. Michael Edwardes, ed., ‘Introduction’, in Journal of my Service in India by Major John Corneille, London: The Folio Society, p. 11.   92. Jeremy Black, ‘Britain and the “Long” Eighteenth Century, 1688–1815’, in The Practice of Strategy: From Alexander the Great to the Present, ed. John Andreas Olsen and Colin S. Gray, 2011; repr., Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012, pp. 155–75; and Jeremy Black, ‘Strategic Culture and the Seven Years” War’, in The Shaping of Grand Strategy: Policy, Diplomacy, and War, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011, pp. 63–78.   93. Ratan Dasgupta, ‘Mercenaries and Political Economy of Bengal: 1727–63’, Social Scientist, vol. 13, no. 4, April 1985, p. 20.  94. McLane, Land and Local Kingship in Eighteenth-Century Bengal, p. 11.   95. Yusuf Ali Khan, Tarikh-i-Bangala-i-Mahabatjangi, pp. 24–5; Kalikinkar Datta, Alivardi and His Times, Calcutta: The University of Calcutta, 1939, pp. 51–3.   96. Sarkar, tr., Bengal Nawabs, pp. 44–5.   97. G.J. Bryant, The Emergence of British Power in India 1600–1784: A Grand Strategic Interpretation, Suffolk: Boydell Press, 2013, p. 23.   98. Edwardes, ‘Introduction’, p. 11.  99. Gupta, Sirajuddaulah and the East India Company, p. 35. 100. Datta, Alivardi and His Times, pp. 57–79. 101. Ibid., pp. 80–7. 102. Sarkar, tr., Bengal Nawabs, 1952, p. 32. 103. Datta, Alivardi and His Times, p. 88; Jadunath Sarkar, ed., ‘Marathas in Bengal’, in The History of Bengal, Volume 2: Muslim Period, 1943; repr., Delhi: B.R. Publishing Corporation, 2003, p. 461. 104. Hussein-Khan, The Siyar-ul-Mutakherin, vol. 1, pp. 397–8. 105. Kaushik Roy, ‘The Hybrid Military Establishment of the East India Company in South Asia: 1750–1849’, Journal of Global History, vol. 6, June 2011, pp. 195–218. 106. G.J. Bryant, ‘The Cavalry Problem in the Early British Indian Army, 1750–1785’, War in History, vol. 2, no. 1, March 1995, pp. 1–21. 107. Robert Boyd, ‘Smallpox in the Pacific Northwest’, British Columbian Quarterly, no. 1010, Spring 1994, pp. 5–40. 108. Erica Wald, ‘“At Ease, Soldier”: Social Life in Cantonment’, in Culture, Conflict and the Military in Colonial South Asia, ed. Kaushik Roy and Gavin Rand, London: Routledge, 2018, pp. 85–6. 109. Lawford, Britain’s Army in India, p. 59. 110. Kolff, Naukar, Rajput and Sepoy, p. 178; Arthur N. Gilbert, ‘Recruitment and Reform in the East India Company Army, 1760–1800’, Journal of British Studies, vol. 15, no. 1, Autumn 1975, pp. 89–111.



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111. ‘A Memoir of Colonel Thomas Deane Pearse of the Bengal Artillery’, pt. II, Bengal Past and Present, vol. 3, no. 1, January–March 1909, pp. 65–99. 112. Lauriston, A Memoir of the Mughal Empire, pp. 51–9. 113. Khan, Tarikh-i-Bangala-i-Mahabatjangi, p. 116. 114. McLane, Land and Local Kingship in Eighteenth-Century Bengal, p. 29; Marshall, Bengal, The British Bridgehead, Eastern India 1740–1828, p. 38. 115. Bryant, Emergence of British Power in India 1600–1784, p. 21. 116. Verma, Plassey to Buxar, see esp. p. 35. 117. Lauriston, A Memoir of the Mughal Empire, p. 59; Jos J.L. Gommans and Dirk H.A. Kolff, ed., ‘Introduction: Warfare and Weaponry in South Asia: ad 1000–1800’, in Warfare and Weaponry in South Asia: 1000–1800, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, p. 20. 118. Marshall, Bengal, The British Bridgehead, Eastern India 1740–1828, p. 17. 119. S. Rivett-Carnac, The Presidential Armies of India, 1890; repr., New Delhi: Lancer, 2010, p. 167; Verma, Plassey to Buxar, pp. 24, 33. 120. Richard Hellie, ‘The Petrine Army: Continuity, Change, and Impact’, in Warfare in Europe: 1650–1792, ed. Jeremy Black, Aldershot: Ashgate, p. 237. 121. Verma, Plassey to Buxar, p. 26. 122. Irvine, The Army of the Indian Moghuls, p. 219. 123. Reid, The Battle of Plassey 1757, p. 96. 124. Bayly, Indian Society and the Making of the British Empire, p. 46. 125. Lauriston, A Memoir of the Mughal Empire, p. 69. 126. Gupta, Sirajuddaulah and the East India Company, pp. 35–6. 127. Marshall, Bengal, The British Bridgehead, Eastern India 1740–1828, p. 45. 128. Gupta, Sirajuddaulah and the East India Company, p. 15. 129. Sushil Chaudhury, ‘The Imperatives of Empire: Private Trade, SubImperialism and the British Attack on Chandernagore, March 1757’, Studies in History, n.s., vol. 8, no. 1, February 1992, pp. 1–12. 130. Rivett-Carnac, Presidential Armies of India, p. 202. 131. Bryant, Emergence of British Power in India 1600–1784, p. 14. 132. Major John Corneille, Journal of my Service in India, London: The Folio Society, 1966, p. 104. 133. Jadunath Sarkar, ed., ‘End of Muslim Rule’, in The History of Bengal, Volume 2: Muslim Period, 1943; repr., Delhi: B.R. Publishing Corporation, 2003, pp. 481–2. 134. George Forrest, The Life of Lord Clive, vol. 1, London: Cassell & Company, 1918, p. 277. 135. Lauriston, A Memoir of the Mughal Empire, p. 74. 136. Michael Edwardes, Clive: The Heaven-Born General, London: Purnell, 1977, p. 104. 137. Lawford, Britain’s Army in India, p. 199.

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138. Yusuf Ali Khan, Tarikh-i-Bangala-i-Mahabatjangi, pp. 125–8; Verma, Plassey to Buxar, p. 42. 139. Jadunath Sarkar, Fall of the Mughal Empire, vol. 2: 1754–1771, 1934; repr., New Delhi: Orient Longman, 1991, pp. 47–79. 140. Lawford, Britain’s Army in India, pp. 202–3. 141. Kolff, Naukar, Rajput and Sepoy, p. 177; Rivett-Carnac, Presidential Armies of India, pp. 203–4, 209. 142. Cardew, A Sketch of the Services of the Bengal Native Army, p. 7. 143. Reid, The Battle of Plassey 1757, p. 94; Sarkar, ‘End of Muslim Rule’, in The History of Bengal, vol. 2, p. 488. 144. Yusuf Ali Khan, Tarikh-i-Bangala-i-Mahabatjangi, pp. 133–6. 145. Quoted from Corneille, Journal of my Service in India, p. 123. 146. Corneille, Journal of my Service in India, p. 125. 147. Rivett-Carnac, Presidential Armies of India, p. 211. 148. Iqtidar Alam Khan, Gunpowder and Firearms, p. 115. 149. Reid, The Battle of Plassey 1757, pp. 92, 96. 150. Quoted from Rivett-Carnac, Presidential Armies of India, p. 216. 151. Gerald Bryant, ‘Officers of the East India Company’s Army in the Days of Clive and Hastings’, Journal of Imperial and Commonwealth History, vol. 6, no. 3, 1978, pp. 203–27. 152. G.J. Bryant, ‘The Military Imperative in Early British Expansion in India, 1750–1785’, Indo-British Review, vol. 21, no. 2, 1996, p. 21. 153. Iqtidar Alam Khan, Gunpowder and Firearms, p. 221; Raziuddin Aquil, Sufism, Culture and Politics: Afghans and Islam in Medieval India, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2007, pp. 39–113. 154. Cardew, A Sketch of the Services of the Bengal Native Army, p. 23. 155. G.J. Bryant, ‘Indigenous Mercenaries in the Service of European Imperialists: The Case of the Sepoys in the Early British Indian Army, 1750–1800’, War in History, vol. 7, no. 1, January 2000, p. 15. 156. McLane, Land and Local Kingship in Eighteenth-Century Bengal, p. 20. 157. G.J. Bryant, ‘British Logistics and the Conduct of the Carnatic Wars (1746–1783)’, War in History, vol. 11, no. 3, July 2004, p. 302. 158. Randolf G.S. Cooper, The Anglo-Maratha Campaigns and the Contest for India: The Struggle for Control of the South Asian Military Economy, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005. 159. Bayly, Indian Society and the Making of the British Empire, p. 2. 160. Philip T. Hoffman, Why Did Europe Conquer the World?, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2015, p. 17. 161. John Malcolm, Robert Lord Clive, Collected from the Family Papers, n.d.; repr., New Delhi: Life Span Publishers & Distributors, 2012, pp. 128, 176, 185–7. 162. Cardew, A Sketch of the Services of the Bengal Native Army, p. 18.



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163. Lester Hutchinson, European Freebooters in Moghul India, Bombay: Asia Publishing House, 1964, p. 40. 164. R.C. Butalia, The Evolution of the Artillery in India: From the Battle of Plassey to the Revolt of 1857, New Delhi: Allied, 1998, p. 152. 165. Malleson, Decisive Battles of India, p. 198. 166. Kaushik Roy, War, Culture and Society in Early Modern South Asia, 1740–1849, London: Routledge, 2011, pp. 95–164. 167. William Charles Macpherson, ed., Soldiering in India 1764–1787, Extracts from Journals and Letters left by Lieutenant-Colonel Allan Macpherson and Lieutenant-Colonel John Macpherson of the East India Company’s Service, Edinburgh: William Blackwood & Sons, 1928, pp. 13, 15. 168. Malleson, Decisive Battles of India, p. 202. 169. Ibid., pp. 202–3. 170. Jeremy Black, The Battle of Waterloo: A New History, London: Icon, 2010, pp. 90–157. 171. Cardew, A Sketch of the Services of the Bengal Native Army, p. 26. 172. The Thirty Years War in Europe witnessed the frequent desertion of the disloyal mercenaries against the highly motivated conscripted Swedes of Gustavus Adolphus’s army. See Ronald G. Asch, ‘Warfare in the Age of the Thirty Years War: 1598–1648’, in European Warfare: 1453–1815, ed. Jeremy Black, London: Macmillan, 1999, pp. 54–5. 173. Malleson, Decisive Battles of India, p. 206. 174. Malcolm, Robert Lord Clive, pp. 194–5. 175. Macpherson, Soldiering in India 1764–1787, p. 17. 176. For instance, see Atis K. Dasgupta, The Fakir and Sannyasi Uprisings, Calcutta: K.P. Bagchi & Co., 1992. 177. Ananda Bhattacharya, ‘The Wandering Fakirs of Bengal: Heroes or Villains?’, South Asia Research, vol. 36, no. 1, February 2016, pp. 1–23. 178. W.G. Orr, ‘Armed Religious Ascetics in Northern India’, in Warfare and Weaponry in South Asia: 1000–1800, ed. Jos J.L. Gommans and Dirk H.A. Kolff, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2001, pp. 185–92. 179. J.N. Sarkar, ‘Foreword’, in The Sannyasi Rebellion by A.N. Chandra, Calcutta: Ratna Prakashan, 1977, p. ii. 180. Birendra Kumar Sinha, The Pindaris: 1798–1818, Calcutta: Bookland, 1971. 181. Sugata Bose, Peasant Labour and Colonial Capital: Rural Bengal since 1770, The New Cambridge History of India, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993, p. 17. 182. Bryant, Emergence of British Power in India 1600–1784, p. 7. 183. Salim, Riyazu-s-Salatin, p. 248; Datta ‘Shuja-ud-din Muhammad Khan’, p. 433. 184. Bryant, Emergence of British Power in India 1600–1784, pp. 7–8.

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185. A.N. Chandra, ‘Preface’, The Sannyasi Rebellion, Calcutta: Ratna Prakashan, 1977, pp. ii–iii; Bose, Peasant Labour and Colonial Capital, p. 14. 186. McLane, Land and Local Kingship in Eighteenth-Century Bengal, p. 20. 187. Marshall, Bengal, The British Bridgehead, Eastern India 1740–1828, p. 36. 188. Bayly, Indian Society and the Making of the British Empire, p. 33. 189. Sarkar, ‘Foreword’, in The Sannyasi Rebellion, p. i. 190. Barun De, ‘Foreword’, in The Fakir and Sannyasi Uprisings by Atis K. Dasgupta, Calcutta: K.P. Bagchi & Co., 1992, pp. ii, v. 191. Chandra, The Sannyasi Rebellion, p. 172. 192. Dasgupta, Fakir and Sannyasi Uprisings, p. 8. 193. Sarkar, ‘Foreword’, in The Sannyasi Rebellion, p. ii. 194. G.J. Bryant, ‘Pacification in the Early British Raj, 1755–85’, Journal of Imperial and Commonwealth History, vol. 14, no. 1, October 1985, p. 8. 195. James Lees, ‘Sepoys and Sebundies: The Role of Regular and Paramilitary Forces in the Construction of Colonialism in Bengal, c.1765–c.1820’, in Culture, Conflict and the Military in Colonial South Asia, ed. Kaushik Roy and Gavin Rand, London: Routledge, pp. 55–6. 196. Basudev Chatterji, ‘The Darogah and the Countryside: The Imposition of Police Control in Bengal and its Impact (1793–1837)’, Indian Economic and Social History Review, vol. 18, no. 1, January 1981, pp. 19–37. 197. Bose, Peasant Labour and Colonial Capital, pp. 8, 20, 23. 198. Bryant, Emergence of British Power in India 1600–1784, p. 7. 199. H.R.C. Wright, ‘Some Aspects of the Permanent Settlement in Bengal’, Economic History Review, n.s., vol. 7, no. 2, December 1954, pp. 204–15. 200. Tirthankar Roy, ‘Rethinking the Origins of British India: State Formation and Military-Fiscal Undertakings in an Eighteenth Century World Region’, Modern Asian Studies, vol. 47, no. 4, July 2013, pp. 1125–56. 201. William R. Pinch, ‘Who was Himmat Bahadur? Gosains, Rajputs and the British in Bundelkhand, ca. 1800’, Indian Economic and Social History Review, vol. 35, no. 3, September 1998, p. 296. 202. P.J. Marshall, The Making and Unmaking of Empires: Britain, India, and America c.1750–1783, 2005; repr., New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2006. 203. C.A. Bayly, ‘The British Military-Fiscal State and Indigenous Resistance: India 1750–1820’, Origins of Nationality in South Asia: Patriotism and Ethical Government in the Making of Modern India, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1998, p. 255. 204. Paul Kennedy, The Rise and Fall of British Naval Mastery, 1976; repr., London: Fontana, 1991, pp. 113–74. 205. Lorge, War, Politics and Society, p. 183.



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206. Alan Beyerchen, ‘Clausewitz and the Non-Linear Nature of Warfare: Systems of Organized Complexity’, in Clausewitz in the Twenty-First Century, ed. Hew Strachan and Andreas Herberg-Rothe, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007, pp. 45–56; Azar Gat, The Origins of Military Thought: From the Enlightenment to Clausewitz, Oxford: Clarendon, 1989, pp. 25–66. 207. Thomas Waldman, War, Clausewitz and the Trinity, Surrey: Ashgate, 2013. 208. Lorge, War, Politics and Society, pp. 172–3. 209. Michael Axworthy, The Sword of Persia: Nader Shah, from Tribal Warrior to Conquering Tyrant, London: I.B. Tauris, 2006; Sanjay Subrahmanyam, ‘Dreaming an Indo-Persian Empire in South Asia’, in Explorations in Connected History, pp. 173–209. 210. Hari Ram Gupta, ed., Marathas and Panipat, Chandigarh: Panjab University, 1961. 211. M.R. Kantak, The First Anglo-Maratha War 1774–1783: A Military Study of Major Battles, Bombay: Popular Prakashan, 1993. 212. Kaushik Roy, The Oxford Companion to Modern Warfare in India: From the Eighteenth Century to Present Times, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2009, pp. 70–86.

3 Some Aspects of Urbanization and De-Urbanization in Bengal 1600–1850 Aniruddha Ray and Soumitra Sreemani

Part I: Urbanization

D

I

uring the second half of the seventeenth century, the French traveller to India, François Bernier stated that due to the oppression of the nobility, the peasants were leaving from the areas of the rajas and zamindars. This statement is more applicable to the situation in western India. The urban development in northern and eastern India was at its zenith. In Bengal, several urban settlements grew like Rajmahal, Murshidabad, Hughly and Dhaka apart from other market towns like Burdwan and Bakla. The Afghan chief of Bihar, Suleiman Karrani invaded Bengal and occupied its capital Gaur in 1564, and ruled between 1565 and 1572. With the movement of the river Bhagirathi towards the west from Gaur, the ruler Suleiman Karrani had shifted the capital from Gaur to further west to Tanda. Meanwhile, the Mughal general Munim Khan had shifted the capital from Tanda to Gaur. But there was an epidemic going on in Gaur at that time, therefore, Munim Khan shifted the capital back to Tanda and built a fort in the city. However, Munim Khan soon died. In 1594, Subadar Man Singh shifted the capital from Tanda to Rajmahal since due to inundation the river had engulfed the villages



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around Tanda. Later in 1834, Tanda was finally engulfed by the river. Rajmahal was on the opposite bank of the river. At first, Man Singh built the city slightly to the north, but later shifted to further east. At about a distance of six miles, at Hadaf, he built a mosque. It is believed that he wanted to build a temple, but out of fear of Akbar he built a mosque. However, this view is not tenable. Man Singh was not a member of the Din-e-Ilahi established by Akbar, yet nothing wrong had happened to Man Singh. He had also built a fort at Rajmahal. According to Abul Fazl, a beautiful city soon arose at Rajmahal, some ruins of which could be seen in early nineteenth century. This was the period of struggle between the Mughals and the Afghans, on the one hand, and also between the Mughals and semi-independent Zamindars led by Isa Khan, on the other hand. The coasts of Eastern Bengal were devastated by the raids of the Arakan and Portuguese pirates, who were then living at the mouth of the Hughli River. Man Singh made several expeditions to suppress them but he was not very successful. Bengal’s tradition of rebellion became proverbial. Though Bengal was brought under control during Jahangir’s rule every opportunity had been avail by the local chief to exert independence and defy central control. Sobha Singh—the rebellious chief of Midnapur who had devastated Burdwan in 1695—died soon after and his uncle Maha Singh, in cooperation with an Afghan adventurer Rahim Khan and his followers, occupied Rajmahal and Murshidabad. Subadar Ibrahim Khan sent his son Zabardast Khan to suppress the rebels. He crossed the Ganges and defeated and killed the rebel commander at Rajmahal. The rebels fled to Burdwan. In 1697, Prince Azimuddin came as Subadar of Bengal and Bihar, and killed Rahim Khan in a battle in 1704. Maha Singh fled and no account of his activities was recorded. In 1610, the new Subadar Islam Khan had shifted the capital from Rajmahal to Dhaka. But in 1640, the new Subadar of Bengal, Prince Shah Shuja, shifted the new capital to Rajmahal again. He built a wooden palace there which caught fire killing most of the people inside. He then built a new palace of stone and brick which was seen and described by Buckhannon Hamilton and Munshi Shyam Prashad in early nineteenth century. In 1657, the Prince Shah Shuja was driven out from Rajmahal by Mir Jumla. The prince went to Dhaka and then to Arakan with his family where they were all killed. Mir Jumla, the

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new Subadar then transferred the capital to Dhaka. Rajmahal was not totally abandoned and it continued almost throughout the eighteenth century as a commercial town. It was the gateway of Bengal from upper India for which Prince Shah Shuja had built two stone and brick gateways at a mile distance from each other.

II The nomenclature of Dhaka has caused quite a debate among scholars. It has been stated that the name had come from the beating of the Dhaak in a high tower. But no trace of such tower has been found. Another legend stated that goddess Durga had taken shelter in this town for which the name has been kept so. Dhaka’s history dates back to the pre-Sultanate period. Coins of the Gupta period have been found here. An inscription has been found in which Dhaka has been inscribed. Dhakeshwari Temple located in Dhaka also belongs to the pre-Sultanate period. There is also debate among scholars as to why Islam Khan had shifted the capital to Dhaka in 1610. The first was to prevent the raids of the Portuguese and Arakan pirates on the coast as they were living at the mouth of the Ganges. The second reason was to suppress the semi-independent zamindars of Bengal. Islam Khan came to Dhaka with his dewan, bakshi and other officials. He had already built a fort on the bank of the river around which the buildings of the government offices came up. Islam Khan had brought a large army and prevented the pirates from raiding the coast. By that time two other forts had been constructed. Two years later, Islam Khan entered Dhaka with a procession that included Musa Khan, son of the rebel Isa Khan. But Islam Khan died soon. After some interregnum, Ibrahim Khan—one of the brothers of Nur Jahan—came and put everything in order. Mirza Nathan, the author of Baharistan-I–Ghaybi, was appointed as faujdar. It may be mentioned that Prince Khuram (later Shahjahan) took refuge under Mirza Nathan after his defeat in Upper India. Dhaka expanded towards the west with different words like Urdu Bazaar (generally for soldiers), Babu Bazaar, Kayet Toli, etc. Later, Mir Jumla had built a gateway called Ramna, after building a bridge in the north as the boundary of Dhaka. A number of buildings had come up after Dhaka assumed importance as being the provincial capital.



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But in 1640, the capital was transferred from Dhaka to Rajmahal. In that year, Fr. Manrique had come to Dhaka and had called it the biggest city of Bengal. After the death of Mir Jumla, Shaista Khan became the Subadar. He became the Subadar of Bengal twice with an interval of one year and half when Mohammed Azam was the Subadar. The regime of Shaista Khan saw the height of building construction at Dhaka and it gradually extended up to the east where the zamindars and merchants used to stay. The city also expanded towards the north up to Tejgaon where the English and the Dutch and later the French had established their factories. It appears that by that time these foreign companies had shifted their investment from the western to the eastern coast. The English and later the French established another factory at Mirpur where the Shah Bandar had their office and custom house. The city then extended from Tongi to Sadarghat. Mirza Nathan used to stay in his own house near the bank of the river. There were two forts on both sides. Mirza Nathan used to visit the fort of Islam Khan everyday. In the seventeenth century, the population was less than a few thousand, but by 1700, the population had increased to nearly 5 lakh according to some foreign accounts. According to some authors, in the seventeenth century, the best route to Dhaka was through Khizirpur. It seems from the writings of modern historians that settlements existed at Dhaka since the seventh century. Some coins from the Gupta period have also been found in Dhaka. In an inscription of the eleventh century, the word ‘Dhahaka’ had been found. Abul Fazl mentioned the Thana Dhaka in his book Akbarnama. The illustration of the Portuguese writer Joan Do Barros drawn up in 1550 and published in 1615 showed Dhaka as a coastal settlement. Therefore, the rise of Dhaka could be seen only from the Subadari of Islam Khan. During the second half of the seventeenth century, one could see various markets and mohallas including Dewan Bazaar, Bakshi Bazaar, Mogol toli, Pilkhana (elephant stable), mahout toli, etc. The development of Dhaka was interrupted by the transfer of capital to Rajmahal by Shah Shuja. The Veneti an traveller Nicolai Manucci did not consider Dhaka as a big city in Bengal. But as stated earlier, Shaista Khan had completed the fort at Dhaka which was started by Muhammad Azam.

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Dhaka had good trade with the outside world. The muslin of Dhaka and other kinds of textiles were regularly sent to the Mughal court. Modern historian Abdul Karim had given a good description of the manufacture and commerce of Dhaka muslin. Shah Jahan, the rebel prince, took refuge in Dhaka for some time when he had a large number of elephants, horses, and people which he took to north India for battle. Before leaving Dhaka, he appointed Daram Khan as his administrator but only after Darab Khan’s death. Jahangir sent Khanzada Khan as the administrator of the city. It is stated that in one year, he had sent Rs.4 lakh to Agra. The next noteworthy Subadar Mir Jumla was at his post for three years, but most of the time he was busy in the Cooch Behar and Assam campaigns. Therefore, the growth and development of Dhaka could be seen from 1660 onwards. The city, according to Fr. Manrique, was broad and was the principal city by the river. It had extended all along the river bank for nearly 3 miles. At the end were Narinda and Phulbaria after which there was this suburb of Maneswar where the Christians used to live. Therefore, during the next 30 years, the city had expanded to almost double. Fr. Manrique hinted that the expansion of the city had gone up to the north to Phulbaria (modern rail station). The expansion was about double near the west because of the existence of the government offices. Therefore, it was due to the demand of the government that the expansion had taken place. Munrique further stated that the foreigners came to the city for trade and commerce. They purchased the goods manufactured at the city. As a result, the wealth of the city had increased substantially. He also stated that the Kshatryi (Hindu traders) had enormous coins which could not be counted but could only be weighed. The population figure depended, to a large extent, on the fact that many people came from outside everyday for trading. Some people came to join the army. All kinds of goods and foodstuff where available from the market. The French traveller Jean Thevenot gave a description of the city of Dhaka in around 1660. He stated that it was the capital of Bengal. The city was very narrow and ran all along the bank of the river for nearly three miles. Most of the houses were constructed of mud. Only the factories of the English and the Dutch were of brick for the protection of their goods. The Augustine monks had constructed a monastery here. The tide came up to Dhaka therefore the big ships



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manufactured here could go up to the Bay of Bengal. The Dutch carried good business in this city. In January 1666, another French traveller Jean-Baptiste Tavernier came to Dhaka. He stayed for a night at Jatrapur about 40 miles from Dhaka. From here one could go to Dhaka by boat, and soon 13 January, he reached the river Lakhya about 4 miles away from Dhaka. There was a fort on the opposite side of the junction of the two rivers. A mile below this was the Pagla River on which Mir Jumla had constructed a stone bridge. One mile distance from this was Kadamtali on which was a brick bridge. On both sides of the bridges were towers embedded with human skulls, which were of thieves. The city was as he found, nearly 4 miles long. Rows of houses continued from the last bridge to the city of Dhaka. These houses were detached and carpenters who used to construct their ships and other boats lived in this area. These were generally ordinary cottages made of mud and bamboos. The houses inside the city were not much better. The house of the administrator Shaista Khan had high walls in which the buildings were in a bad state. Shaista Khan used to live in a tent in the middle of this wooden wall. But the foreigners had some strong houses as well as factories. The church of Augustine monks was made of brick and its architecture was beautiful. After 1640, Dhaka did not expand much since the capital was transferred to Rajmahal. After 1659, the capital was transferred to Dhaka again and expansion started towards the north and east. Zamindars and merchants usually stayed in the east. The foreign companies had constructed their factories in the north at Tejgaon but as seen earlier this was far from the Durbar and from Shah Bandar, and therefore they built another building close to the office of Shah Bandar. After 1669, an English merchant named Thomas Bowrey had come to Dhaka and he said Dhaka had taken a large space for the construction of the city. It had a big river and 600-ton ships could sail in that river. The city had a circumference of 40 miles. It was well populated with many houses. There are houses in the city with many people. A large army was maintained with regular wages. A large number of big elephants were stationed near the palace. Many rich people kept elephants along with soldiers.

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By the time, the city of Dhaka had reached Tongi about 12 miles north of the river. The reason for this rapid extension of Dhaka was the effort of the Subadar Shaista Khan. Bowrey had mentioned a palace at Dhaka which may have been the fort of Dhaka. The Subadar prince Mohammad Azam Khan started the construction of this fort in 1676, but could not complete it. Shaista Khan had it completed. The factory of the English started in 1666 at Tejgaon nearly 4 miles distant from the river. It was an unsuitable location for business. It was distant from the durbar by nearly 3 miles. The English Company did not give official recognition to this factory until 1666. After 1670, the work of the company progressed very much. The Dutch also constructed their factory in 1666 at Tejgaon. They built another factory near the river and this factory later became the Mitford hospital. The boats of the French Company first came to Dhaka in 1682. They first established their factory also at Tejgaon and another one on the bank of the river which later got transformed into Ahsan Manzil. After the arrival of Dupleix in 1731 in Chandernagore, the commerce of the French in Bengal progressed very much. In 1747, their investment in Dhaka was nearly Rs.3 lakh a year. The company also purchased land at Farasganj which was then the eastern boundary of Dhaka. It seems that during the time of Aurangzeb, Dhaka was expanding towards the north. The middle portion of the city had been filled up earlier. In 1645, the Dewan of the Subadar Shah Suja had constructed a building for the Subadar at Dhaka. Mir Abdul Qasim had constructed an Idgah on the north of Pilkhana and it is still known by the same name. There was no other building north of Pilkhana at that time. The open field next to it was kept reserved for the parade of the soldiers. A katra (market) on the east of Chowkbazaar was known as Muqim Katra. Mir Jumla had constructed two roads with bridges: one had gone through Tongi to north where he constructed a bridge on the Tongi River, and the other bridge was constructed on the road which passed through Khizirpur to the south. The regime of Shaista Khan showed the height of building activities at Dhaka. Dhaka reached the height of its expansion at the end of the seventeenth century and its development stopped after the transfer of capital to Murshidabad during the early years of eighteenth century. Mirpur area had the custom office of Shah Bandar with



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custom office. The common people and the nobles wanted to stay close to the river. The city therefore grew lengthwise all along the bank of the river. In the map by James Rennell from 1780, the north of the gateway of the city of Mir Jumla was full of gardens. Therefore, the bank of the river was the most attractive place for the settlement of people and construction of their houses. He had also built a mosque in this area that still stands. In 1663, Shaista Khan had constructed a katra and in 1676 constructed a mosque at Chowkbazaar. He also constructed a mosque of seven domes, near which were the tomb of Dara Begum and another mosque. A merchant named Khoja Ambur had constructed a bridge beyond the gateway of Mir Jumla, and another merchant constructed a bridge at Narinda. The fort of Lalbagh was on the bank of the river, close to the temple of Dhakeswari. It is not known why the name Lalbagh was given. Perhaps there was a garden around the fort which lead to this name. The place was known as Qaserhatta or palace market. It was constructed in c.1678 and, at one time, was called Aurangabad Fort. The construction was started by Prince Azam, but was completed by Shaista Khan who lived in this palace. Huge bastions were raised. The bastion on the southern wall had been constructed during different periods. On removing the earth, one sees a narrow passage by which soldiers could go to other bastions. Another floor was added to the building at the bank of the river which has many doors. It is not clear why so many doors are kept on the wall facing the river. The modern historian A.K. Dani has suggested that the southern gate was the principal gate of the fort. A little distance from here on the way to the northern gate is a reservoir. To the west of this is a two-storey building, which is taken as the durbar of the Subadar. On one side of this is a ruined building which is taken as a Hammam. There is a mausoleum of Bibi Pari in the fort of Lalbagh. There is a three-domed mosque to its west. The tradition is that Prince Muhammad Azam had constructed this. It is also stated that he had constructed a community hall for the Shia community which is called Husaini Dalan, and used to celebrate Muharam. There is not much information on the mausoleum of Bibi Pari. Legend has it that she was the daughter of Shaista Khan who constructed this mausoleum. Earlier it was surrounded by a reservoir with a fountain in the middle. At one time, the domes were covered with copper plates. There are

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nine rooms inside and the mausoleum is in the middle room. This was close to the Persian style of architecture which had come to Bengal via Agra and Delhi. There is Hindu ornamentation on the gateway. There are three more tombs on the southern side with an eight-cornered tower on four sides. Prince Azimuddin, Subadar of Bengal and Bihar since 1697 had constructed a palace at Posta, south of Lalbagh Fort, but the river had engulfed it. In 1690, Subadar Ibrahim Khan had constructed a fort whose remains were visible till early nineteenth century. Farrukh Siyar constructed a fort near the Lalbagh Fort, and Murshid Quli Khan constructed a mosque in Begumbazaar. An English merchant, S. Master, met Shaista Khan in his durbar. He also mentioned the Rangmahal of Shaista Khan and found the principal officials most of whom were Hindus. Once the capital was transferred from Dhaka to Murshidabad, Naib Nazim used to administer the city. By then the old splendour was gone, but the commerce of Dhaka continued. There was practically no expansion. Since 1763, the English officials began to reside at the Lalbagh Fort, while the Naib Nazim resided at Bara Katra. The English had started constructing some buildings. The Count of Modave came to Dhaka in the second half of the eighteenth century. He stated that it was a good city, which is divided into different wards. From here, the best and the most beautiful muslin cloth was taken and was the main item of commerce in Bengal. He considered that in comparison to other places, Dhaka had some new elements. There was no turbulence, and industry and agriculture had continued. Excepting the Danes, the other European companies had their factories at Dhaka. The Mughal names are found from Babu Bazaar (Pakurtali) to Zafarabad in the west and from the bank of the Buri Ganga to the gateway of Mir Jumla to the north. There were two ghats, viz., Chandni and Sawari, belonging to Mughal period. This area developed after the Mughaldays, only the name of the Dhakeswari temple seems to belong to the pre-Mughal times. The names of some artisans are also mentioned there. Most of these had words like Ganj, Bazaar, Pur or Toli reflecting their connection to the Mughals. Obviously, these areas began to develop after the arrival of the English. Many foreign and Indian merchants came here. Among these, one may mention the



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Armenians, Portuguese, Persians, Turkish and many more from north India who used to reside at Mirpur. Some merchants went east where the professional people and the artisans had concentrated. Names like Kumortuli, Farasdanga and Armanitola suggest association with these people. Zindabahar lane was the quarter of the fallen women of the early days. After the transfer of capital to Murshidabad in 1713, the deputy Nazim used to live at the Lalbagh Fort, but after 1763 the English Company officials began to stay there and the deputy Nazim had to shift to a new building called Ahsan Manzil. In 1843, the last of the deputy Nazims died without any estate and the English occupied Dhaka. Now the question is how many people used to live here? Jahangir in his autobiography stated that Dhaka, the capital of Bengal then, had 50,000 people. With lower level employees, this could be 60,000 or 70,000. In 1640, Fr. Manrique suggested that Dhaka had 2 lakh people. This number continued in the narratives of later travellers. In 1800, John Taylor, Chief of the English factory at Dhaka, gave the same number of people on the basis of the documents of the Kotwal office. But it seems that during the regime of Shaista Khan, the number of people had increased to nearly 4 lakh.

III Murshidabad-Qasimbazar In early days, Murshidabad was nearly six miles distant from Qasimbazar. Gradually, these two came together to form a city. In early days, the name of Murshidabad was Makhsudabad. It is stated that a merchant named Makhsud Khan had set up an inn there. Abul Fazal, however, placed one Maksud Khan brother of the Subadar Syed Khan, Governor of Bengal brother of the Subadar Syed Khan, Governor of Bengal—brother of the Subadar Syed Khan, Governor of Bengal—as a noble. Obviously, Makhsudabad had commercial activities. In the eighteenth century, Fr. Joseph Tieffenthaeler stated that the town of Makhsudabad was set up during the reign of Akbar. In his book Tabaqat-i-Akbari, Bakshi Nizamuddin stated that there were 3,200 qasbas or market towns during the time of Akbar.

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The number of people in the qasba was more than that of the villages. There were other qasbas like Bhagabangola and Goas situated between Qasba Bahadurpur and Raninagar Thana. In the contemporary Vaishnab literature, reference to qasbas has been found. These places remained famous for the production of raw silk and silk textiles till the early twentieth century. It has been stated earlier that with the fall of Gaur, some small towns had begun to grow. The western bank of the Bhagirathi was in a better shape since the second half of the fifteenth century. This can be seen from the rise of Nadia and slightly later Santipur. After the Portuguese were driven out of Hughli, the European Companies began to set up their factories there. Instead of spices, they began to buy silk and other textiles, particularly from Qasimbazar. So it was necessary to set up a customs house at Qasimbazar. The river route was the main route for communication, but the river used to dry up in certain seasons. In that case, the land route was more common. It seems that Qasimbazar appeared as a centre of commerce earlier than Makhsudabad. The merchants naturally concentrated at Qasimbazar. The river had a horse-shoe bend which made it similar to an island. Around 1665, the French traveller Jean Thevenot referred to Qasimbazar among the towns of Bengal. He did not mention Makhsudabad. He mentioned Qasimbazar, Chittagong and Patna and stated that all these towns were very rich. From this, it may be assumed that Makhsudabad then did not appear to be a town of note. Obviously, Thevenot has considered Qasimbazar as one of the commercially rich towns of Bengal. Around the same time, another French traveller Francois Bernier mentioned the production of silk at Qasimbazar. He stated that the Dutch Company had employed nearly 800 Indian artisans in their factory. The English and other merchants employed a much less number. Bernier wrote a report on 10 March 1668 from Surat (Constable, the editor of Bernier, mistakenly suggested that it was written from Persia) to the Directors of the French Company which had reached Jean Baptiste Colbert, the French Minister. The French Company had come to India in 1666 with a farman from Aurangzeb. Here in this report Bernier had suggested that the French Company should set up their factory at Qasimbazar since all kinds of goods were available at cheaper rates here. He stated that from Patna it



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takes 7 or 8 days of travel to reach Rajmahal from where a land route reaches Makhsudabad or Qasimbazar. He emphasized this despite the fact that in his earlier letters he stated that the Dutch had set up their factory at Hughli. But he saw that at Qasimbazar, silk and other goods were easily available. From Qasimbazar, it takes 3 days by land route to go to Hughli where big ships come. There was also a narrow canal by which one could reach Hughli in a small boat. The only difficulty was that there was no good housing like Surat. Every year the straw roofing had to be done again. The English and the Dutch had constructed brick buildings to protect themselves from fire. It is not known at what period Qasimbazar had become famous for silk productions. The English and the Dutch had set up their factories here in the middle of the seventeenth century. The commerce of Qasimbazar had rapidly improved within ten years. It is known from a letter written from Batavia to Amsterdam on 24 August 1655, that the Dutch had factories at Pipli, Balasore, Patna, Qasimbazar and Hughli. Their factory at Hughli was the chief factory of Bengal. Since 1680, the Dutch considered their factory at Qasimbazar as second in Bengal. But there was always trouble between Faujdari of Makhsudabad and the Qasimbazar factory of the Dutch. In 1661, Qasimbazar became the jagir of Subadar Mir Jumla. At that time, the Dutch Company did not pay any road tax. As a result, the Indian merchants were losers in the competition. It is said that Qasim Khan, the Imperial General, after driving out the Portuguese in 1632 had kept some Portuguese females at Qasimbazar. The traveller Nicolai Manucci wrote later that Qasim Khan had kidnapped some Portuguese women. Some people believed that the name, Qasimbazar, had come from Qasim Khan. Manucci had come to Qasimbazar from Hughli in 3 days. He stated that in this village situated on the Ganges are factories of the companies of the English, the Dutch and the French. Here, fine piece goods and white linen were available. Manucci called it a village, perhaps in comparison to Hughli. Manucci had come to Qasimbazar in 1666, however, this statement seems to be incorrect because he referred to the French factory which came into existence only after 1690.Tavernier had come in early 1661 by boat from Rajmahal to Dhaka. His companion Bernier had come by land route from Rajmahal to Qasimbazar from where he had gone to Delhi. There was practically no river route from Suti. Tavernier came to Qasimbazar

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on 12 February 1666, but he could not go all the way by boat from Dhaka. He had gone to Makhsudabad from there by land, which was about 6 miles away. He termed it a big city. From here, Tavernier had gone to Nadia by river route. He had also called Qasimbazar a village from where 22,000 bales of silk were available annually. The Dutch took one-third of it to sell it to Japan and Holland. In June 1669, the Dutch physician Nicholas de Graaf came to Qasimbazar by boat from Hughli. From there he went to Makhsudabad which was 6 miles away. This shows that Makhsudabad had not advanced towards Qasimbazar till then. He found Makhsudabad a commercial city and generally very big. There was no wall, but there was one good covered market in which there were many pillars. The administrator had a house on the Ganges with a garden. The river was nearly a distributary of a big river. Many people resided in the city and there was a good trade in work with jari. Besides, silk textiles with good jari works were available. But there is no contemporary evidence to prove this place a port. However, the place was connected with Hughli. The English merchant, Thomas Bowrey came to Qasimbazar from Hughli by boat almost ten years after the visit of Graff. He mentioned Qasimbazar as a beautiful town mainly for its production. A large number of rich merchants lived here and it was here that all the goods were bought and sold. The English and the Dutch had big factories here and the commerce of the English was better than that of the Dutch. Another contemporary English merchant John Marshall stated that the factory of the Dutch was constructed in brick and was bigger. It was one mile away from the English factory. The English kept a large number of Indian artisans who coloured the silk with black dye. A group of Brahmins resided in the north of the city. They used to sell water and earth of the Ganges River in martaban bottles. Bowery has not mentioned the French factory since it did not exist then. An English merchant named S. Master came to Qasimbazar in 1676 by boat from Hughli. He stated that in the middle of the city on the bank of the river a piece of land was kept reserved for the French factory which it seems to be Saidabad. He sent some people to Balchand Rai, faujdar of Makhsudabad since the Company was bringing money. Balchand Rai sent some merchants to bring the money. This would



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suggest that there was a mint at Makhsudabad at that time. Master was at Qasimbazar from 23 September to 8 November 1676. He stated that many mulberry trees were planted along the city so that much silk was available. Master found the city 2 miles long. The streets were narrow and difficult for a palanquin to go through. It was possible to go by water from Qasimbazar to Santipur. It seems that by the middle of the 1670s, a mint was established at Makhsudabad from where a coin dated 6 October 1679 has been found. From the writing of Thomas Bowrey it seems that a mint was established four years before this date. Qasimbazar was administered under the faujdar of Makhsudabad and was a suburb of Makhsudabad although it had tremendous commercial activities. The existence of the English and the Dutch factories attracted the merchants to reside there which could be seen from early 1670s. Makhsudabad was an administrative centre where the officials used to reside. It had some commercial activities, more as a corollary to that of Qasimbazar. Various kinds of wholesale markets grew around Makhsudabad in which one may sight Jiaganj about 10 miles away. This was principally the place of sale of sugar, grains and cotton textiles. It was connected on one side with Patna and on the other side with eastern Bengal. Opposite to it was Azimganj where merchants from South India used to come. But the wholesale market towns became bigger in the eighteenth century. North of Azimganj was Jangipur which was famous for silk trade. In 1773, the English established a small factory here. Makhsudabad was becoming a big city since the early days of the eighteenth century. In 1695, Ibrahim Khan, the Subadar gave a parwana to the French for constructing a factory. This was issued from Makhsudabad. One can see that ten years before the arrival of Murshid Quli Khan both the Subadar and the Dewan were staying there. Therefore, the statement of Ghulam Husain Salim that Makhsudabad grew up only after the arrival of Murshid Quli Khan cannot be accepted. It had its own history of a flourishing trade for long. The rebels led by Sobha Singh, as has already been noticed, occupied Rajmahal, Makhsudabad, and Qasimbazar and looted the treasury. After they were driven away by Zabardast Khan, son of Subadar Ibrahim Khan, the rebels fled to Burdwan. It seems from the contemporary French letters that a mint was established at Rajmahal at the end of the seventeenth century. During the occupation

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of these towns by the rebels the three foreign companies left their factories and fled to Hughli that resulted in the closure of commerce. Eventually peace evaporated and normal life got severely disturbed. New growth of Makhsudabad started with the arrival of Murshid Quli Khan. On 17 November 1700, he was appointed Dewan of Bengal and Faujdar of Makhsudabad. He arrived at the frontier of Bengal by the end of December 1700 where he was received by the envoys of three European companies. He was given a new name, i.e. Kartalab Khan, and this relation with Bengal lasted till his death in 1727, excepting the year of 1708 when he was transferred to Hyderabad. Dhaka was then the capital of Bengal and the posting as Faujdar of Makhsudabad along with his post of Dewan is rather strange. Murshid Quli Khan was also made the Faujdar of Makhsudabad because after the revolt of Maha Singh and Rahim Khan the area was dislocated. Murshid Quli Khan arrived in Bengal in December 1700. Before him, Subadar Azimuddin had arrived in Bengal in 1697. He immediately began to extort money from the merchants and European companies for the impeding succession struggle. Murshid Quli also began to extort money from the merchants and the European companies to send it to the emperor at Deccan. Thus the financial condition of Bengal had deteriorated as seen from letters of the French Company officials. Ghulam Husain and Salimullah had stated that Azimuddin was jealous of the fame of Murshid Quli. One day, Murshid Quli was surrounded in the street by the Naqdi soldiers for their arrear salary. The problem was that according to the policy of the emperor, most of the jagirdari lands had been converted into khalisah (state controlled) and revenues of some areas were kept for the salary of these soldiers called naqdi. According to these authors, Murshid Quli got out and went to the durbar of Azimuddin and threatened him for the attempt to murder him. Both Jadunath Sarkar and Abdul Karim have accepted this statement and stated that Azimuddin and Murshid Quli had bitterness and trouble all through the period. But the facts seem to be otherwise. The contemporary French letters stated that the Subadar and Dewan were working hand in hand to collect money. Also in 1704, the emperor Aurangzeb had sent a khilat to Murshid Quli stating that this was sent to him on the recommendation of Azimuddin.



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Ghulam Husain stated that after this situation Murshid Quli had transferred the Dewani office to Makhsudabad from Dhaka. But it has been seen that earlier Subadar and Dewan Ibrahim Khan and Kafayet Khan were in Makhsudabad for a long time and they had given a Parwana and a Sanad to the French from there. Therefore, the office of the Dewan was already there. What Murshid Quli did was to establish a customs office at Qasimbazar. Ghulam Husain and Salimullah did not say where and when this incident had happened. It is doubtful whether Murshid Quli, a man of classical mould would threaten the Subadar in an open Durbar. But the incident of the naqdi soldiers may have happened because in 1710 the Dewan Ziaullah was killed by these soldiers in the street of Makhsudabad. Therefore, the view of the enmity between Azimuddin and Murshid Quli cannot be confirmed. Meanwhile, Azimuddin had closed the mint at Rajmahal and the Sarafs had to pay a large amount of money. Now the mint at Rajmahal was transferred to Makhsudabad. Murshid Quli’s rise in different posts was stopped after the death of Aurangzeb in 1707. He was then transferred as Dewan of Hyderabad. Sarkar and Karim had taken this as demotion. But the revenue of Hyderabad was three times more than that of Bengal as shown by Irfan Habib. It may be mentioned that an earlier Dewan of Bengal, Haji Safi, was also transferred to Hyderabad. The reason of the transfer is clear due to the Mughal-Maratha War (1707) and Murshid Quli was sent there for resettlement. He came back to Bengal in early 1710 after the earlier Dewan was killed by naqdi soldiers. Azimuddin was still at Delhi while his father Shah Alam I was the emperor. If there has been an enmity between them, Murshid Quli would not have been able to be appointed as Dewan of Bengal. By 1710, the revenue of Bengal had decreased from Rs.1 crore a year to less than Rs.90 lakh, according to Irfan Habib. This was the principal reason for the recall of Murshid Quli Khan as Dewan of Bengal. After the death of Shah Alam I, his son Azimuddin declared himself emperor with a new title Azimushan; Murshid Quli immediately read the Khutba in his favour and issued a coin. Obviously, there was no enmity between the two. Azimushan died in a battle at Lahore and Jahandar Shah became the emperor. Farrukh Siyar, the eldest son of Emperor Azimushan, declared himself emperor from Patna. He asked Murshid Quli to send the revenue of Bengal to him. Murshid Quli refused since he was merely a candidate and

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there was an emperor. Farrukh Siyar sent an army against Murshid Quli, but it was defeated in the battle on the plains of Karimabad outside Makhsudabad. Farrukh Siyar sent another army, but it was blocked at Sakragali Ghat. Meantime, Farrukh Siyar was urgently asked to come to Agra where he won the battle against Jahandar Shah. Murshid Quli immediately sent to him the revenue of Bengal and his nazrana of Rs.1 lakh. He was given the post of Dewan of Bengal and an infant son of Farrukh Siyar became the Subadar. In 1713, Murshid Quli became the deputy Subadar and it is assumed that the capital was transferred from Dhaka to Makhsudabad which were soon came to be known as Murshidabad. Murshidabad did not improve much before 1713. There is no evidence where Murshid Quli used to reside. He became the Subadar of Bengal in 1717 and he continued in that post until June 1727 when he died. It was assumed that he was living at the palace of Choleria on the bank of the Ganges. Balchand Rai, Faujdar of Makhsudabad was living at this palace in the seventeenth century. It is also assumed that in Choleria, the successive Nawabs used to reside except Sarfaraz Khan. Md Reza Ali Khan resided at Choleria. According to Syed Maulana, there was a mauza on the eastern side of the big imambara. Murshid Quli had his revenue office and residence there. There are no remains of this palace and the exact place has not been identified. Murshid Quli had constructed one imambara of which ruins are visible. It is assumed that his palace was next to this building. It seems that the arsenal of Murshid Quli was situated one mile east of the modern jail of Murshidabad. There is no ruin of structure or old artefact except one big cannon called Jahan Kosha. Earlier the cannon was placed on very big wheels but these had vanished. There are nine copper plates attached to the cannon giving the history of its manufacture. In 1723, Murshid Quli constructed the famous Katra Mosque around which the markets were established. The mosque was much bigger than that in the palace of Murshid Quli. There were arrangements for 700 readers to stay and read the Holy Quran. In 1780, the English traveller, William Hodges had mentioned this mosque as a centre of Islamic education. Murshid Quli’s grave is under the stairs of the main entrance. But there is no evidence to support this. Murshid Quli was not known as anti-Hindu or breaker of idols. The tomb and the mosque of his wife Nausera Banu Begum



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are in the east of the Tripolia gate. Here also the tomb was under the stairs. After the death of Murshid Quli in June 1727 his son-in-law Shujauddin Khan became the Nawab. Shujauddin demolished the government buildings constructed by Murshid Quli to build his palace, arsenal, Dewan Khana, a big gateway, Khilafat Khana, Durbar hall, Julus Khana, harem and other buildings. Ghulam Husain Salim stated that Shujauddin had constructed at Dehapara on the river a mosque and a huge garden in which was his palace, canals and many fountains. The garden was so beautiful that the guards used to complain that the fairies used to come there at night. Thereafter, Shuja closed the garden. He built the Tripolia gate of three arches which is still visible but needs repair. This was constructed within his few years of becoming the nawab and is located on the eastern side of his palace. The three arches reflected his control over Bengal, Bihar and Orissa. There was a music room attached to this gate. A little distant to this gate was his famous durbar hall Chehel Sutun or hall of forty pillars. The Tripolia gate was located on the main road to the Chehel Sutun. During his last days, Shuja used to spend most of his time in Roshni Bagh located on the western bank of Bhagirathi and famous for lights. Murshid Quli had started the practice of lighting lamps from Mahinagar on the birthday of Hazrat Muhammad. Murshidabad still retains the Bera festival of lights, lit in the boats on the Bhagirathi. Begum Azimunnesha, wife of Shuja and mother of Sarfaraz Khan had constructed her own tomb and a mosque about 2 km from the Hazarduari palace. The mosque was located at Mahimapur known as Azim Katra which was constructed on the model of the Katra mosque of Murshid Quli. The Maulanas used to teach the members of the royal family here and they were paid by the Begum. Her tomb was under the stairs and only an arch is visible now. The most famous of the gardens of Murshidabad was Khosbagh situated on the western bank of Bhagirathi opposite to Armani Ganj. The palace of Alivardi Khan was located a few miles north of this garden on which there is some controversy. There is a mosque in the garden. The tombs of Alivardi Khan, his mother and Siraj-ud Daulah were located in this garden. Nawazesh Muhammad Khan, son-in-law of Alivardi Khan and Dewan of Bengal at one time under Alivardi, constructed the beautiful

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Motijheel Palace about two miles south of Hazarduari Palace. This was located within a horse-shoe shaped lake. A portion of the palace was visible till the early 1980s, but has completely vanished now. The palace was surrounded by beautiful trees. The cost of construction was Rs.3 lakh and the area covered was 133 acres. Ghaseti Begam, wife of Nawazesh Muhammad Khan used to live here but Siraj sent her to Dhaka on the ground that she was plotting against him with the English officers. Raja Rajballabh was her Dewan. Various festivals were held here on different occasions. Even the festival of Holi was held here during the time of Nauroz. The palace was built of brick which were taken from excavated areas. The outer gate could be seen until recently. The palace was located about one mile distant from the gate within the garden. Sang Dalan and Mahal Sarai were on this land. Lord Clive stayed here and the Nawab had handed over the papers of Dewani of Bengal in 1765 to the English at the Durbari hall of this palace. Warren Hastings stayed in this palace for some time. And Nawazesh Muhammad had constructed a three-domed mosque. His tomb lay in the courtyard along with some other people. These tombs could be seen in the middle of the garden among the ruins of this mosque. Alivardi Khan after becoming Nawab seemed to have constructed a palace for himself which is not extant. A Frenchman, De Gennes de La Chanceliere, had described the palace of Alivardi from outside in 1743. The translation of this description into English had been done by Indrani Ray. The Frenchman had gone to Murshidabad from Qasimbazar, a distance of 4 miles, by a fast boat in an hour. He and his companion had entered the palace from a forecourt where the cavalry was stationed. Then they had gone to the second courtyard which had some buildings with porticos. These were occupied by infantry guards and servants. There are some flowerbeds divided into sections. At the side of the flowerbed there was the entry to the palace. There was a big divan supported by double columns with a fountain in the middle of a marble basin. The principal side of the palace faced the river. His companion was the surgeon who told him that the compartments were beautiful and covered with costly carpets full of golden embroidery. The apartments were big and well distributed. The Frenchman could not find any symmetry in the city’s buildings. Most houses were thatched cottages. The streets



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were not paved and almost unusable during the rainy season. There were several well-built houses of rich nobles and merchants. The house of Jagat Sheth and his son occupied a large area with a huge, well-maintained garden. The Frenchman considered Jagat Sheth as the richest merchant of the world. They also considered Bengal as the richest province in Hindustan and perhaps of the entire world due to its manufacture. Sheth was the principal entrepreneur participating in the caravan trade covering entire Asia from Peking to Constantinople. He had also an important share in all the ships plying from Japan to Mozambique. Unfortunately, the Marathas looted Rs.14 lakh from his house near Murshidabad. Sheth was then nearly 80 years old. The Frenchman considered that the public monuments were not significant for such a big city like Murshidabad. Only the palace deserved some consideration. There were many mosques but only one which deserved attention. It was at the opposite end of the town. It was a square building with a principal dome at the centre. There were four other domes in four corners. There was a very fine building which was a mint. The French did not utilize it much, but the Dutch in certain years collected Rs.2 million. While the French man was in the city the Nawab had extorted Rs.50,000 from the Dutch. The other side of the river was full of beautiful pleasure gardens. The brick walls of the gardens nearly touched the river. Every garden had a beautifully decorated gateway. There was also a mosque similar to the one referred earlier. All of these were painted in bright white colour. There was also the harem of the Nawab Sarfaraz Khan. From a distance, it seems to be a big building. The tombs of the Nawab and his son were here. Probably the Frenchman confused the tomb of Shujauddin at Dahapara with that of Sarfaraz Khan. The tombs were enclosed in a little mosque. This area appears to be a city than the city itself. There were 300,000 inhabitants. The Nawab had a garden and a pleasure house a little below the city. Several kinds of animals were kept there. The Frenchman witnessed pomp and grandeur of the rich here. Alivardi Khan constructed a palace for his sister Shah Khanum at Zafarganj on the east bank of the river opposite Mansur Ganj Palace. Shah Khanum was the wife of Mir Zafar and she used to reside at this palace with her husband. It is generally stated that Siraj-ud Daulah was killed in this palace, but Robert Orme and James Grant did not

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accept this opinion. They stated that Siraj was killed at the Mansur Ganj Palace. The body of Siraj was brought to Zafarganj Palace for funeral since many ladies of the family of Alivardi Khan were staying there. The kitchen of Shah Khanum was located at the same place where at present the cemetery is located. She had constructed a small zoo to keep domestic animals and birds. Among various mosques in the city the one called Chowk Mosque situated in the middle of the city is still in use. It was constructed in 1767 by Munni Begum, one of the wives of Mir Zafar. It was located in the Durbar hall of Chel Sutun constructed by Murshid Quli Khan. Till the arrival of Alivardi Khan as Nawab, this hall was used to collect revenue on the first day of the Bengali New Year. The Nawab used to celebrate Eid in this mosque. Shujauddin had constructed an imambara near the Hazarduari Palace, but it was destroyed by fire in 1842. Nawab Feradun Jha constructed a new imambara opposite the Hazarduari Palace referred to earlier. Sagar Mistry had constructed a clock tower in front of the palace during the rule of the Nawab Humayun Jha. The sound of the clock tower could be heard from all over the city. Since then the Archaeological Survey of India had taken charge and the function of the clock tower was stopped. Nawab Humayun Jha constructed a building called Balakhana which was later called Wasif Mazil. This was situated south of Hazarduari palace and had an audience hall on the first floor. Qasim Ali Khan, brother of Mir Zafar and Faujdar of Rajmahal used to stay in a building close to the imambara. After a time, the post was abolished and the building was given to Mr Fox, agent of the Governor-General. Since then, the building has been known as Fox’s house. A school was established later in the house of the Nawab Mubarak-ud-Daulah. The agent of the Governor-General and Dewan of Nawab used to manage the school. Later, in 1829, the Nizamat College was established by the Nawab Humayun Jha in the same place. Murshid Quli Khan had constructed a palace at Lalbagh, a locality of Murshidabad where Price Farrukh Siyar used to reside for some time. The palace is not existent now. The Custom House of Murshidabad was situated here. The Nawab had another customs house at Kasimganj opposite the river. Close by was a stable or pilkhana which was constructed by the Nawab Humayun Jha from the Nizamat Deposit fund. Here horses, elephants and cows were kept.



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There was a big hall inside the stable. Nawab Sarfaraz Khan began a mosque, half a kilometre east of the Chowk Mosque, which could not be completed. It is called Futi mosque. A merchant named Lakhimpat Dugar came to Murshidabad from Rajasthan during the time of Nawab Mubarak-ud-Daulah. He had established a garden, now called katgola, since he made his fortune by selling timber. His residence is known as Katgola Palace. Later he constructed a temple there. As noted earlier, Shujauddin became the Nawab after the death of his father-in-law in 1727. He had received the Sanad at a building called Mubarak Manzil. This was situated three miles south of Hazarduari Palace. After receiving the Dewani in 1765, the English Company had constructed a palace here and they used to run the administration from this palace till the capital was transferred to Calcutta in late eighteenth century. This palace is also known as Findelberg palace. The city began to develop after the capital was transferred to Murshidabad around 1713. The nobles began to construct their mansions in the city. The city continued to develop till the capital was transferred to Calcutta by the Company. Ghulam Husain Salim stated that Shujauddin had constructed many buildings for official purposes in an attempt to beautify the city. But he also demolished many buildings constructed earlier by Murshid Quli Khan. Practically all the buildings of Shujauddin have vanished except a garden with his tomb as cited earlier. The political turmoil after the death of Murshid Quli was quite well-known. There were many stories of the events of the period. The moving story of Siraj-ud Daulah’s life and death is also famous. After Robert Clive had occupied Chandernagore, many Frenchmen had come to Murshidabad for shelter. One of them was Chajjiaque who had constructed a house in Murshidabad. There were many Christians of mixed marriages in the city. The French scholar Anquetil Du Perron had come to Murshidabad before 1757. He had met Chajjiaque and described him. Through him, Perron had gone to see the Mughal noble Yaar Latif Khan who was then living in a huge area, a little distant from the Motijheel Palace. Perron stated that the garden was so enormous that it could accommodate 5,000 people. Perron had also found many English soldiers at Murshidabad, but they did not attack the French.

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The German priest Fr. Joseph Tieffenthaeler came to Murshidabad around 1770 after the fall of Siraj. And he was perhaps the first foreigner to leave a graphic description of Murshidabad-Qasimbazar complex. He stated that Murshidabad was still the capital of Bengal. It was a big city on the bank of the Ganges River stretching from Bamian to Lalbagh, about five miles. From the riverbank, the city was drawn up to Akbarpur. Mahinagar was situated on the opposite bank of the river. It had started from Asimganj Suburb and had gone up to the tomb of Siraj-ud Daulah in the long stretch that was nearly one mile and a half broad. There were innumerable houses constructed in brick and lime. Along with this, there were many gardens with beautiful houses inside. Most of the houses were of brick and lime. There were many suburbs and they divided these towns in many ways. The river Ganges flows peacefully between the towns and there were many boats floating on the river. The cartographer, Bartholomew Plaisted, had kept Murshidabad in between two rivers. He had shown that both the rivers had equal level of water. The palace of the Nawab of Bengal was situated at the end of the city called Choleria. There was a huge and wonderful palace surrounded by water one mile away on the left. This was called Motijheel. Another palace could be seen on the bank of the river which was called Hirajheel. Qasimbazar was situated 3 miles south-east of Murshidabad on the bank of the river Bhagirathi. This was a commercial place. The English had constructed a factory on the model of European architecture. At a further distance was the Dutch factory that had a beautiful, big building at a place called Kalkapur. On its eastern side was Saidabad where many Armenians lived in good houses and conducted their trade. The French constructed their factory on the bank of the river. These towns were attached to one another. From this description it is clear that urbanization in this area had increased rapidly within a span of 80 years. The area of the city had also doubled. The city of Murshidabad had not only gone to the opposite bank to meet Qasimbazar, but much beyond it. The filthy villages seen by the travellers had vanished. Qasimbazar had developed from being a village to a town and had become a suburb of Murshidabad. The French aristocrat Count of Modave came between 1773 and 1776. He stated that the air was good on the upstream of the river



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and it is for this reason that the capital was transferred from Dhaka. This kind of thinking was prevalent among the Europeans for a long time as seen in the statement of Alexander Hamilton in 1705. Regarding Qasimbazar, Modave stated that the place was very big and many merchants used to come which increased its wealth. The people were very hardworking. Modave stated that Murshidabad has improved much since the transfer of the capital there. The length of the city was more than two miles along the bank of the river. There was only one street at the end of which was Chowk Mosque. This nearly-round area was covered where the merchants assembled every evening with their goods for sale. The palace of the Nawab was on the bank of the river. There was nothing exceptional inside this palace and there was nothing remarkable in this city. Modave praised Qasimbazar for manufacture of silk textile. The two distributaries of the Ganges had made it an island which extended nearly twelve miles. The Dutch and the French had their factories there. The two factories were situated two miles from each other. The Dutch had their residence at Kalkapur where there were thirty Armenian families. The French had their factories at Saidabad which was a small market town from where a revenue of Rs.2,000 was annually available. The French factory was very big and had taken enormous space but the English had destroyed the factory. The agent of the French Company used to reside at one time at a private house in this city. The English had some houses like those of the Dutch where they assembled their goods. Apart from the manufacture of silk, different types of food stuff and other provisions too were manufactured at Qasimbazar, which were sold at a good price at Calcutta. On the one hand, Modave had given the description how the poor and penniless had come to Calcutta and became rich, and on the other hand, he described the changes in the fortunes of Nawab Mubarakud-Daulah. Modave had gone to meet the Nawab at his palace. This was the old palace and not the present Hazarduari. The English Lady Fane had seen the construction of the Hazarduari Palace. Certain suburban towns had grown up around Murshidabad. Jiaganj, six miles distant from the city on the same bank was the principal market for the sale of cotton textile, sugar and grains. It had commercial relations with Patna and eastern Bengal. On the other

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side of the river opposite Jiaganj was Azimganj where merchants from South India used to come for bulk purchase. These market towns used to develop with the patronage of the English roughly after 1765 when Murshidabad-Qasimbazar complex was in decline. The tragedy had struck Murshidabad after 1765 when the market towns like Jiaganj and others began to develop with new patrons. The English Company set up a small factory at Jiaganj in 1770, but it did not last long. With the growth of Calcutta, the entire region lost its vibration. Still, it is not clear why so many mansions and palaces at Murshidabad built in the eighteenth century had vanished now. Since there had not been any turbulence in the city, it is presumed that these buildings constructed delicately in brick and lime did not last the weather of Bengal. But there may be other reasons.

IV Satgaon—Hughli From the end of 1530s onwards, Bengal experienced a series of problems for nearly 70 years. From the third decade of the sixteenth century, the Saraswati River began to withdraw its flow into Hooghly River making it difficult for the big ships to come up to the port of Satgaon. The Portuguese began to unload at Betore and then transport the goods in boats to the port of Satgaon. Gaur, then the capital, was twice attacked by Sher Shah and then occupied by Humayun who was replaced by Sher Shah again. Finally, Suleiman Karnani became the Sultan of Bengal and transferred the capital to Tanda further west of Bhagirathi. His son Daud Karnani was killed in a battle in 1575 at Rajmahal, and Munim Khan, the Mughal general, transferred the capital from Tanda to Gaur. A severe epidemic had started in Gaur then and Munim Khan was forced to return to Tanda where he died. One of the reasons for the transfer to Tanda was perhaps due to the fact that the river had moved away from Gaur. It appears from the narrative of Ralph Fitch visiting Tanda after 1576 that the river was still at a mile from the city. He had seen commerce of cotton at Tanda. During the tide, the villages around were flooded. The Mughals till then did not have full control on the whole of Bengal. The Hindus and Afghan nobles of Daud began to fight the Mughals from Orissa and



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eastern Bengal creating problems. Subadar Islam Khan before 1613 had pacified most of Bengal and transferred the capital from Rajmahal where Subadar Man Singh had taken over at the end of 1594. It is against this background that we would see the city of Hughli. Modern historians had described the working of the port of Hughli, but the history of Hughli has been neglected. Here one would see the history in brief during 250 years of Mughal rule in Bengal. Our principal sources would be the narratives of the contemporary writers including those of the French and the Dutch. Modern historians have generally debated on the year of foundation of the city of Hughli. They also debated on the existence of a fort at Hughli that I would discuss later. The modern scholar J.J.A. Campos had discussed the views of the modern historians and their writings on both issues. He had based his writings on the English and the Portuguese sources. He concluded that the city was founded in 1579–80 by the Portuguese named Pedro Tavares. He had gone to the court of Akbar and obtained a farman allowing the Portuguese to establish the port of Hughli with a stipulation that no building could be constructed there. There is no reference of Hughli in the Portuguese sources earlier than this date. The Italian traveller Ludvico Varthema visiting Bengal in 1505 did not refer to Hughli. Duarte Barbosa visiting Bengal a few years later also did not mention Hughli. Even at the end of the sixteenth century, Mukundaram Chakrabarty who used to live near Burdwan did not mention Hughli although he had referred to Satgaon, Halisahar and Garifa (situated opposite Hughli). This shows that Satgaon still had sway over the minds of the people. Mukundaram had shown that his legendary merchant had anchored at Tribeni and had gone shopping to Satgaon. The reason for the absence in reference to Hughli seems to be that the city had not yet started functioning. The Portuguese were employing it as a port for their own use. The port was used only in the shipping season with some cottages, which were destroyed after the departure of ships. This was followed at Betore as seen earlier. Abul Fazl in his book Akbarnama referred to a firangi merchant called Partab Bar. H. Beveridge had deduced that it was Pedro. Fr. Monserrat referred to Pedro Tavares going to Akbar. There is practically no document on the Portuguese establishment at Bandel, north of Hughli. It is believed from later sources that the

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Augustine priests had constructed a convent there in 1559. A Farman of Shahjahan issued in 1633 showed the donation of 777 bighas of land to the Portuguese. Bandel was obviously a later development linked to the departure of the Portuguese in 1632. Revd Long suggested that the Portuguese first came to Bandel in 1538 and had built a fort there in 1599. This theory has been rejected by Campos. The Portuguese first settled at Satgaon and later at Chittagong. The third one was at Bandel that came much later after 1632. At Satgaon, the Portuguese had established a factory and a custom house for their use. Perhaps they had built some buildings around 1537–8 when Sultan Muhammad Shah III was facing the attack of Sher Shah. In 1632, they were driven away from Hughli by the Mughals. The Portuguese used to call it as Hughli on which there is a long controversy. Abdul Hamid Lahori (d. 1654) wrote in his book Badshahnama that the Portuguese had established themselves well before the reign of Akbar. He further stated that these European merchants of Sandwip had come to Satgaon for trade. They had occupied some land about two miles above the place on the bank of the estuary. Due to the negligence of the Bengal rulers, their numbers had increased and they erected some buildings on which they had placed their cannons. This place grew up in the name of the port of Hughli. On one side there was the river and there was a ditch on the other three sides. The villages and districts of Hughli were on both sides of the rivers and the Europeans got possessions of the areas. There was no mention of the farman of Akbar, but the settlements according to Lahori started long before the reign of Akbar meaning perhaps the establishment of Satgaon in 1538. He did not name the Bengal rulers, but it seems that he meant the Karnanis. But there is no mention of the fort and the settlement is shown above Satgaon which in reality was not the proper mention. It seems that the rise of Hughli was due to the decline of Satgaon. It was situated before Satgaon if one comes by the Bhagirathi River. The implication of the growth of Hughli was that it had started before the Portuguese had received the farman of Akbar in 1579. Fr. Hosten stated that the Portuguese had at first settled in Hughli after receiving the Farman and then had moved to Satgaon. He further stated that they were not allowed to live in Hughli since they were not allowed to build any house there. They had only thatched cottages for



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storing goods. These cottages were burnt down after the departure of the ships. Therefore, they had to settle at Satgaon. Campos had rejected the principal thesis of Hosten in view of the fact that the Portuguese had settled at Satgaon long before 1579 on which there were a number of Portuguese documents. Fr. Manrique visited Hughli in the first half of the seventeenth century. He stated that the Portuguese had settled at Hughli after receiving Akbar’s farman. He did not say anything about the Portuguese settlement at Satgaon. One reason of the absence of Satgaon in his writing could be that by the time of his visit to Hughli, the port of Satgaon had seized to Hughli and its best part was absorbed into the city of Hughli. By that time, the Portuguese were driven to Bandel from Hughli. It seems that the market of Satgaon was functioning and supplying goods to Hughli. But Manrique himself stated that prior to his visit to Hughli, the Portuguese did not stay there permanently and used to go to Goa after the shipping season. On the basis of the writing of Antonio Cabral, a Portuguese writer of seventeenth century, Campos stated that Tavares had gone to the court of Akbar with his wife and obtained a farman in 1579. Campos further stated that the farman gave the Portuguese the right to build a city anywhere with full religious liberty to preach by building a church. The original farman is not extant. Abul Fazl in a later passage in Akbarnama stated that the Mughal faujdar of Satgaon had been defeated by the King of Orissa and he had fled to the Portuguese Governor of Hughli. This incident probably occurred in 1580. Campos sees slight inaccuracy here. The rebel army of Bengal and Bihar broke out into rebellion in 1580. The King of Orissa was poisoned and there was anarchy. Taking advantage, Qutlu Khan Lohani, one of the followers of the Late Daud Karnani, rebelled against the Mughals and attacked Burdwan. He defeated the Mughal Faujdar of Bengal Muhammad Najaf Khan. The faujdar took shelter with Pedro Tavares. Pedro was not the Governor. There was the Mughal faujdar who usually looked after the Sarkar of Satgaon in which Hughli was included. It seems therefore that the city of Hughli had not grown then and the Portuguese were not using the city, but only the port during the shipping season. After the decline of Satgaon there was no overseas port on the Bhagirathi which allowed the port of Hughli to flourish under the

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control of the Portuguese. The city did not develop to that extent. Tanda was still the capital of Bengal and the narrative of Ralph Fitch visiting after 1586 showed that it had a flourishing commerce at least in cotton textile. Fitch found the fort of Hughli nearly two miles distant from Satgaon which to him was a fine town, but the route to Satgaon was becoming dangerous due to the presence of thieves and wild beasts. Fitch was silent on the trade and the city of Hughli which he had visited. This suggests that the city had not developed and the commerce was seasonal under the control of the Portuguese. But he did not mention the trade of Satgaon which probably vanished by that time. Fitch was all praise for the commercial activities of the port of Hijli in Medinipur. This port of Hijli filled the vacuum of the decline of commerce of Satgaon and the underdeveloped commerce of Hughli then. Campos had come to conclusion that there was no fort at Hughli then. Jadunath Sarkar had accepted the view of Cabral that in 1632, during the Mughal attack on Hughli, there was no fort there. There was a mud embankment and some buildings which were fortified with muskets. Other European travellers like Linschoten at the end of the sixteenth century, or Gautier Schouten in 1660 did not refer to any fort at Hughli. But it seems that the Mughals had constructed a fort after 1670 at Hughli since during the revolt of Sova Singh at the end of seventeenth century the rebels had occupied the fort of Hughli. The European travellers of the eighteenth century had mentioned the existence of a fort at Hughli. Pierre Du Jarric, writing in early eighteenth century on the basis of the Jesuit letters stated that the Portuguese adventurer Domini Carvalho came from Sripur in the early seventeenth century and occupied the fort of Hughli after killing the Arakan Garrison there. The incident occurred in 1603, but it seems that the fort was at Satgaon. Around 1600, the French traveller Vincent Le Blanc mentioned a fort at Satgaon whose remains had been seen by Rakhaldas Bandopadhyay in the early twentieth century. The remains of the fort of Hughli had been seen by another late eighteenth century traveller that will be seen later. Actually, Rakhaldas had placed the fort at Satgaon and not at Hughli. There is some dispute since Rakhaldas had heard it from the locals in the early twentieth century. This mound has been identified by Crawford as the fort of Satgaon structure without proper evidence.



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The mound is visible now. But Rakhaldas had seen the remains of the wall of the fort close to the river. Therefore, it seems like that Pierre Du Jarric was referring to this fort of Satgaon which was then a part of Hughli. It is clear from the late eighteenth century Dutch evidence that the fort was near the river since the Dutch ships had bombarded the fort. It is possible that the fort was located in the north bank of the Saraswati River perhaps at the junction of the two rivers so that it could control the traffic. Probably this fort was repaired later and its ruins were seen at the end of the eighteenth century. The earlier writers till 1600 visiting Satgaon did not mention any fort. Probably there was no fort till the time of Mughal invasion in 1632. Only the assertion of Le Blanc having seen the fort at Satgaon sometime after the Mughal conquest creates a problem. In 1565, Caesar Frederic had come to Satgaon, but he did not mention either the fort or even Hughli. Le Blanc did not mention Hughli also. In 1595, Abul Fazl mentioned the city of Hughli under Saptagram sarkar but did not mention the fort in either of the places. Fr. Manrique visiting the place around 1649, after the Portuguese had been driven out, gave a good description of Hughli. He found the city existing all along the bank of the Ganges. There was no surrounding wall. The Portuguese had earlier constructed a mud embankment. Fr. Manrique found some Portuguese still living at Hughli. In 1598, Fr. Fernandez was working in the Portuguese church at Hughli. It appears that other churches were there. These fathers had left Hughli in 1598 and one Jesuit father was in-charge of the church, a school and a hospital. In 1599, the Augustine fathers built a church located probably at Bandel, north of Hughli. The entire area was called Hughli then. In 1617, the Jesuit fathers built a residency on the bank of the Hooghly River. But these were moved inland a few years later for the fear of flooding. There was another small church slightly north of Bandel which was called Misery Corde Church. Fr. Manrique stated that the small and big churches were destroyed during the Mughal attacks on Hughli in 1632.In the later narratives, there was no mention of the Augustine church or of the smaller church. Campos stated that Shah Jahan had released Portuguese prisoners and returned their land to them in Hughli. The Augustine fathers had grabbed the 777 bighas of land given to the Portuguese by Shah Jahan and they had built a convent called Bandel Convent. This was located on the bank of the

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Hughli River and north of Bandel. It is claimed that the big church was located in the Kota area before its demolition. A college was built at the same time. Simultaneously, Father Rodriguez had constructed a church with a residency. In 1663, Manucci, an Italian traveller, after visiting Hughli had seen a church. He stated that the Portuguese wanted to build a church of brick and stone, but the Mughal Faujdar Sayad Jalal did not give permission. It had only a straw roof. Around 1666, the French traveller Bernier had seen a big Portuguese church at Hughli along with an Augustine church. It is presumed that these were built of stone and brick. There is some confusion regarding the year of beginning of Bandel Convent. Shah Jahan had given a farman to the Portuguese giving back their land and freedom of worship. The original farman was lost. However, a copy was found attached to the application in 1820.It was stated that Mir Muhammad Azim Khan, Subadar of Bengal had given a Sanad to the Portuguese on the basis of the farman. In 1765, Fr. St Nicholas stated that the convent was made in 1650 which was also the view of French traveller Count of Modave visiting Bengal in 1773. In late seventeenth century, English merchant Thomas Bowrey had seen a church being constructed on the bank of the river. This seems to be the Augustine church, which was destroyed and reconstructed in 1670. Earlier, Fr. Manrique had not mentioned the church, but Count of Modave mentioned it which would suggest that the church was constructed long after the grant of farman in 1633. Pierre Du Jarric had given the description of the fort and its capture in early eighteenth century. Before the arrival of Carvalho in Hughli, the Mughals had constructed a fort at the mouth of the river. In this fort were 4000 Arakani soldiers. Carvalho suddenly attacked and killed them all. Campos had expressed some doubt on this statement. He referred to a Portuguese document that stated that the Portuguese had constructed a fort at Golaghat area of Hughli in 1559 with a ditch at three sides. The remains of the ditch are not extant. Other contemporary Portuguese writers and European travellers had not mentioned the fort of Hughli. At the end of the sixteenth century, Linschoten said the Portuguese were living like wild beasts at Hughli, but praised their commerce at Chittagong. In early seventeenth century, the English merchant William Finch stated that the Portuguese were oppressing



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people at Hughli. It seems that the later travellers mentioned the fort at Satgaon, but it was then considered a part of Hughli. On the basis of the writing of Cabral, Jadunath Sarkar stated that the Portuguese in the beginning used to purchase salt from Hijli and keep these at a straw roof cottage in Hughli which is called gola in Bengali. At this time, the Portuguese used to call this Ugolin or Golin which was later changed to Hughli. Cabral mentioned this place as Chandeo Ganj which was not popular. In the beginning, this was a whole sale market for salt trade. The Portuguese possession at Hughli did not fall under the official Viceroy of the Portuguese nor was it controlled by Goa. Cabral stated that the Portuguese at Hughli elected a Captain amongst themselves whose decision was accepted by all. Those who were born in Portugal formed the ruling class. Under them was the mixed Indo-Portuguese class called the mesticos. The general menial work was done by the slaves who were local Indians or others were forced or purchased as slaves in the slave market. The Arakanis used to sell these slaves as they had good contact with the Portuguese. The Mughal emperors were losing the custom duties and other taxes from trade and business had increased in Bengal. The Portuguese had betrayed Shah Jahan during his revolt which failed. Therefore, after the decline of the port of Satgaon there was no good port under the Mughals. So, Shah Jahan decided to take possession of Hughli which was a correct decision from the Mughal point of view. The ruthless raids of the Portuguese on the coasts along with the Arakanese had devastated Bengal as seen by Fr. Munrich in 1629. These Portuguese pirates were supported by those at Hughli. These pirates were living at the mouth of the Bhagirathi towards the coast of Orissa which had been mentioned by the Bengali poet Mukundaram at the end of sixteenth century. Their activities created difficulties for the merchants and only after 1632, the European companies began to settle their factories at Hughli that brought prosperity in the city in due course. Jadunath Sarkar had given an excellent description of the capture of Hughli by Mughal leader Qasim Khan in 1632, which is not necessary to repeat here. The result of the capture of Hughli was more far reaching. By the end of 1650, the Dutch and the English had settled their factories at Hughli. The French came a few decades later along with the Armenians. The combined investments and the

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overseas export of the products coming from the hinterland led to the prosperity of the city. Merchants from all over India and overseas assembled here. Fr. Manrique stated that Hughli was situated on open level ground all along the bank of the Hooghli River. There was no surrounding wall and the city was open. The mud embankment of the Portuguese was useless as seen earlier. Fr. Cabral stated that the Portuguese had mainly circled the place with a weak embankment. The Dutch traveller Gautier Schouten had come around 1660 after the English and the Dutch had built their factories. He stated that the city was a huge one. It was situated all along the bank of the Ganges and looked like a long city. The streets were wide but not paved. And there was no street fit for walking. The houses were beautiful and comfortable. The shops of the city were full of goods particularly silk textiles. There were other textiles that came from all over India. There were many Muslim merchants who did good business. There were many Hindu and Baniya merchants as well. Schouten stated that they lived comfortably. There was a huge chowk (square) in the market place where five streets met. At the end of each street, was a temple of a particular sect. These sects had separate areas for worship. There were both male and female devotees going to the temples after which they used to shop in the market before returning home. In the chowk outside the temples, the Indians and the Europeans had their shops. Schouten praised the Dutch factory where he stayed. He said that it was unique in the city. This building had been constructed in a huge square, a little distant from the river. The distance was kept deliberately for fear of flooding. The building looked like a fort and it was certainly bigger than any other building in the city. It was built of stones and bricks, and its walls were very high with cannons at the top. A ditch filled up with water surrounded the factory building. This building had much space inside and many rooms where Directors and Council Members used to reside. There was a big hall for the inspection of goods and a separate hall for storing the goods for shipping. The villages around Hughli were beautiful with good cultivation. There were beautiful buildings with pools of water. There were reservoirs for taking bath. Inside the village there were good roads fit for walking. At that time the English Company was building its



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new factory since the wall of the old one had been washed away by the river. The English had built their first factory in 1650, and in 1657, their factory at Hughli became the principal one for the Bay of Bengal. The French jeweller, Tavernier visited Hughli but the year of his visit is not clear. He stated that he had resided in the Dutch factory at Hughli which suggests his visit was after 1660.Tavernier praised the Dutch factory but did not describe the city. By that time, Hughli had become a big city with many rich merchants living there. Obviously, the city developed after 1632. This development lasted 30 years since the 1630s principally due to increasing commerce and concentration of merchants in Hughli. The integration of agriculture, industry and commerce could be seen in the well-developed villages. The settlement going along the bank in a single line must have reached its limit. In the next few decades, the city was moving towards the west perhaps along the bank of the Saraswati River thus appropriating the older settlement of Satgaon, which was then acting as a supplier to the city and the port of Hughli. Around 1670, the English merchant John Marshall noted that Hughli was really a big city and it had appropriated a part of the old town at Satgaon. This suggests that Hughli was advancing along the south bank of Saraswati River towards the west. Perhaps it had taken over a part of the old town in the northern bank of the river. The factories of both the Dutch and the English were at the bank of the Saraswati River, which he called a branch of the Ganges. This location given by Marshall creates some confusion. The English merchant S. Master had given a different location. Master was proceeding by boat on the Hughli River when he first came to the Dutch garden and then their factory. This suggests that the factory was located at Chinsurah. It was on the Ganges River and not on its branch. Their garden was also located on the Ganges River bank which was the land purchased by the French. But they could not build their factory and the Dutch occupied it. It is possible that the Dutch had first settled on the Saraswati River and later came to the bank of the Ganges. This statement of Marshall in 1676 of the Dutch occupation of the French land is confirmed from the contemporary French records. This piece of land was given to the French by Subadar Shaista khan in early 1670s and Dupleix took possession of it. But he did not have

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the money to build a factory there and had gone back to Pondicherry. Later the French recovered their land and a factory was built in early 1690s by Deslandes. Master stated that the Dutch factory, presumably at Chinsurah had two squared houses attached to each other. The Dutch had recently constructed a warehouse. A portion of the building had come down to the river. This building was made of wood brought from Batavia and stone from Madras. Their garden was well-arranged where various kinds of vegetables were cultivated. A workshop was attached to the factory where carpenters worked on wood. They manufactured wooden boxes to keep salted pork meat brought from Baranagar to be taken in their ships. There was also a warehouse for storing grains. Next to it was a big hall where weavers worked on the sail and rope of the ships. There were iron smiths also. All these artisans were Indians who worked for nearly 2annasper day, which could be considered as a very low sum. A Dutch merchant supervised these workshops. A portion of land next to the factory and part of the city had been taken as ijara by the Dutch from the Nawab. The Dutch offeredRs.150,000 for the purchase of these lands, but the Nawab refused and arrested the Dutch broker along with his relatives. This resulted in the temporary stoppages in the Dutch commerce at Hughli. The English Company also had problems at this time. Due to the lack of accommodation at the factory, some of the English employees had to live in the city. Some other Englishmen who were not employees were also living in this city. One such non-employee was Boon Martin who had incurred a huge debt. He was prohibited from going out of the city, which created trouble for other Englishmen living in the city. The Company made a rule that their employees would not be allowed to live in the city except at Madras and Masulipatnam. The English Company decided to enclose their land on the bank of the river in which they would build bungalows and buildings for their employees. The old factory would be transformed into a warehouse. All the English employees would be brought into the new factory and they could build a bungalow within the enclosed space. He would be given free land. A large number of trees were cut down to construct this new factory. Master stated how much advantage Hughli was enjoying. The goods were transferred by the river from a long distance even from Agra.



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Earlier this port was under the control of Portuguese when about 100 ships used to go to Malay and other places in India in a year. After the Mughal conquest in 1632, commerce had increased considerably. Hughli was the jagir of Subadar Shaista Khan and his followers were controllers of the port and the city. These officials oppressed the merchants. They purchased everything at a low price and sold these at higher prices to the merchants. By that time, the commerce of the Portuguese was nearly over and most of them worked in the Mughal army. The view of Master is confirmed by the narrative of another English merchant called Thomas Bowrey who came around the same time. However, there is a small difference. Bowrey stated that the city was not the same everywhere. Some of the areas were beautiful where the rich merchants resided. The goods of Orissa, Bengal and Patna were brought here and sold in the market. There was a very big market, perhaps the same as mentioned by Schouten. But there were other markets spread all over the city. The Dutch factory was nearly one mile below the English factory which suggests that the Dutch were at Chinsurah then. The city was situated on a level ground and was beautiful. The buildings were very good. The old Dutch factory was close to the English one and both were located only twenty feet from the river leading to terrible flooding. The English factory would have been lost by the flood. The English then constructed a new factory half a mile distant from the river. The incident must have occurred before the visit of Schouten in 1660 when the Dutch factory was built at Chinsurah. Bowrey stated that a large number of Portuguese were in Bengal particularly at the mouth of Hughli. Some of them were born at Portugal and some in India. They lived in a big city which was one mile higher up from the English company. This was Bandel. It had a circumference of two miles and many people lived there. Most of them were very poor but were hardworking and wanted to live honestly. Generally, they wove cotton and silk socks, prepared bread for the English and Dutch and sold them door to door. They also made bread for ship and made excellent pastries and pickles. In 1676, the Portuguese destroyed an old church to make one of mud and stone. But the Faujdar of Hughli did not give them the permission. Most probably this was the same church, i.e. the Augustine church which was also mentioned by Manucci around 1669.

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Till the end of the 1670s, there is no mention of the port at Hooghli. At the end of the seventeenth century, the rebel Rahim Khan and Maha Singh occupied the port of Hughli for a few days. They were driven out by the Dutch by bombarding from the ship anchored there. The rebels made another attempt to seize the fort by advancing through Bandel, but the Portuguese drove them back. It is not clear whether this was the old fort occupied by Carvalho. It seems that the old fort was quite far from the main part of the city of Hooghli. Both the English and the French contemporary correspondents spoke of the fort very casually. In any case, the existence of this fort gave the Europeans the necessary security since they got the permission from the Subedar Ibrahim Khan to raise walls with bastions having cannons on top. It has been seen clearly that the city of Hooghli had expanded greatly since the Portuguese were driven away in 1642. But they were soon allowed to settle at Bandel which became a suburb of Hooghli. Due to the immigration of large number of merchants and artisans at Hooghli, the city had taken over a part of Satgaon giving depth to the city. Earlier, the city developed along the bank of the Ganges river almost in a straight line. Satgaon now become its supplier since it had lost its overseas commercial role. Bandel also supplied to Hooghli provisions and labourers for its shipping industry. The earlier linkages between the hinterland and the port of Satgaon were now transferred to Hughli without any problem. This could be seen in the prosperous villages around Hughli, which implied that the city was not merely a parasitic city, but one that was investing in its neighbourhood villages. The social structure of the city of Hughli was a complex one primarily due to the presence of a large number of foreigners, foreign companies and merchants from all over India. The foreign companies had separate segments under a loose administrative structure. This becomes complex since the Mughal administration at Dhaka, then the capital, was rather wary of the foreign companies at Hughli. Obviously, this area was far more sensitive than other Mughal areas. This could be seen in the ruptures between the English Company and the Mughal administration that finally resulted in the 1680s with the sack of Hughli by the English and their hasty departure to Balasore and Hijli where they carried out their vandalism. This is not the place



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to blame either, but Shaista Khan wanted a compromise, which has not been mentioned by the English and the Indian historians who blamed the Mughal administration for the rupture. Among the Mughal officials, the faujdar, who resided in the fort, the qazi and the kotwal were the most important officials. They generally did not interfere in the commercial activities of the port. In case of the foreign companies, the local Mughal administration wanted firman clearly stating the rate of tax to be paid. If there is some ambiguity, the Mughal officials wanted more money which the companies considered as bribes. At the bottom of the social structure were the artisans, porters and shopkeepers. Some of these people used to reside in the neighbourhood and used to come daily for work. The shopkeepers perhaps used to reside in a portion attached to the shop to keep watch over the goods. The rich merchants and nobles had kept separate areas for themselves for residence showing class distinction. As a result, there were more straw-proofed cottages than the brick buildings in the city as well as in the neighbouring villages. In the mercantile segment of the port, there were often the contest between the Sarafs and the merchants, which had remained for a long time, but in a subdued form with both sides trying to get the support of the faujdar and the nawab. At the end of the seventeenth century, the French traveller L’Estracame to Hughli. He stated that the Dutch were doing good business. He was surprised that the port of Hughli situated 60 miles distant from the mouth of the river had such huge commercial activities. The traveller could not bring his large ship through the Ganges with shifting sands and bars and he had to keep the ship at the mouth of the river and take a small boat to come to Hughli. He stated that in 1672, the Dutch had lost several ships in the river due to these shifting sand banks. The ships of more than 600 tones would not be able to go through the river. The traveller had given a good description of the city of Hughli. The city situated on the bank of the river had good air and climate. Everything was available and food was cheap. It is surprising that with the import of so much foreign currency, the price level at Hughli has remained stationary. This was due to the increase in production of the agricultural and other goods which made the impact of increasing money supply. The Frenchman

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thought that food at Hughli was cheap due to the presence of a large number of domestic animals. He stated that it was very cheap to buy some animals. He also noted that some cultivation was made on the model of Europe. All sorts of textiles were manufactured here. The Muslim weavers did excellent filigree work and manufactured superior quality muslin. They also wove carpets in the Turkish fashion which were sold locally for 8 Sikka Rupees. In France, this was sold for Rs.28. Since the French were not settled at Hughli, the exports of carpets were done by the English and the Dutch merchants. The French merchants started their commercial activities from 1682, but in their list of cargoes there is no mention of carpets. The captains and sailors of the Dutch ships purchased everything from Hughli and sold them at a high price in Batavia. Generally, the Europeans named Dhaka as the best place for manufacturing muslin in Bengal. There were other places in Bengal where muslin was manufactured from eighteenth century onwards. The remuneration to the artisans seems to have been roughly Rs.5 per month, which explains the low demand and cheapness of food. The French traveller found the attitude of the people sympathetic to the government. The local people often came to the ships to sell their goods, but their prices were generally higher than those of the markets of the city although they brought the bestquality goods. The rich people had many slaves whom they sold like horses. The poor people did different jobs for the rich for which they got Re.1 at the end of the month. They seemed to be unskilled. The poor people often sold their children and wives to the rich merchants. After becoming adults, these children sometimes came back to their parents. One could buy a female slave for a payment of Re.1. Silver formed common currency. Though gold coins were in use, but no mention of copper dam can be found. The common people used cawries, generally imported from Maldives. Many people lived on the bank of the Ganges since they believed that this river was sacred. After death, the bodies were submerged into the river. The prosperity of Hughli continued till the first half of the eighteenth century. In early eighteenth century, Alexander Hamilton stated Hughli to be the principal port although Chittagong had come under the Mughals in 1666.Since 1500, the size of the ships had increased and most of the ships could not come to Hughli, but transferred goods to small ports at Balasore. It seems there was no



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ship beyond 600 tons although the water level of the Ganges had increased considerably from the middle of the seventeenth century. In 1730s, the three European Companies used to keep their bigger ships at Balasore and transferred their goods to barges and by other boats. Hamilton saw a large number of boats in the Ganges River carrying provisions to the neighbouring areas of Hughli. But the year 1757 changed everything. About 15 years after the Battle of Plassey, a German priest Joseph Tieffenthaeler visited Hughli and described its decline. He described the ruins of beautiful houses, mansions and palaces which suggest the past splendour of the port and city of Hughli. He believed rich people used to reside at Hughli since the deserted palaces testified to their wealth and architectural taste. He stated that even the Portuguese had left the city. He mentions that the fort of Hughli was built on the old style of architecture and was now totally abandoned. There was no garrison there. He stated that the tide could best be seen from Chandernagore and Chinsurah. The decline of the city of Hughli was clearly visible from the narrative although the city had not been totally abandoned. It seems that the rich merchants had left Hughli for Calcutta. During 1773–6, the Frenchman, Count of Modave came to Hughli from Chinsurah. He found it difficult to believe that this city had been famous and prosperous at one time as it has lost its entire splendour. He stated that all the travellers to Hughli found it a big city. It had been for a long time the seat of the administration of lower Bengal, and the faujdar under the command of the English Company had jurisdiction of considerable areas. Modave stated that Hughli was situated in one of the most beautiful parts of the Ganges. Its location was such that two magnificent canals formed up and down the city. One could form an idea of the limits of the city from its ruins. The wall of the fort existed in parts. He had seen wide ramparts constructed of brick with cannons on top of the bastions. But these were amalgamated in works of defence. This rampart had certain gaps where the ramps were placed. He had also seen some abandoned cannons. These were very heavy and old, generally of eight-pound calibre. He did not find the town of Hughli a remarkable one. It had a mediocre market where grains and other goods were sold. Modave thought that Hughli was given much consideration

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due to the presence of a large number of Muslim theologians. The doctors of Islamic law resided here. He had seen four mosques in the city where real believers assembled. Modave could not find a simple temple to serve the devotees. Among the Islamic theologians, he found the illustrated Lamaka. This man was born of Christian parents at Constantinople and was trained at the College of Louis the Great at Paris. He was sent to Pondicherry to serve the French Company as an interpreter of oriental language. He soon abandoned the faith in which he was born to become a Muslim. He then made a pilgrimage to Mecca and Medina. This man was then residing at Qasimbazar and was known to all the Europeans at Haji Mustafa. Modave had seen him earlier at Pondicherry and also at Murshidabad living with the Christians, but totally devoted to his new faith. In 1789, Ghulam Husain Salim prompted by the English described the city of Hughli. He stated that under Murshid Quli, the place was a flourishing city and there was good commerce. Murshid Quli used to treat foreign merchants with justice. Since then the faujdar of Hughli had committed oppression on the merchants and many of them had left for Calcutta. The city of Calcutta grew up and the city of Hughli declined. This is the English view of their domination of the economy of Bengal by military and political power. Since 1680, the western coast of India including Surat was facing the attack of pirates and the companies shifted their investment to the eastern coast. The Dutch had vandalized Masulipatnam that resulted in the growth of Hughli and Patna as centres of trade and commerce. Therefore, the growth of Hughli had two factors—the control of the Mughals over Hughli, and the shifting of the investment to the eastern coast. One cannot therefore accept the assertion of Campos on the growth of Hughli. Another feature seems to be the myths circulated in the late eighteenth century on the role of the Portuguese and also the English in the failure of the Portuguese in 1632. The English tried to convince the Indians of the misrule of the Portuguese for which they had to take some measure in the decline of Hughli and the rise of Calcutta. Both these points have been discussed earlier and there is no need to discuss it here. It may be mentioned in passing that during the time of Murshid Quli, the English had conflict with him which is described clearly by many English sources including the modern historian



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Abdul Karim. One therefore cannot accept either the statement of Modave in the defeat of the Portuguese or on the assertion of Ghulam Husain Salim on the cause of the decline of Hughli. Modave asserted the continuation of the city of Hughli even after the decline of its port. He was one of the few European travellers in the late eighteenth century to dwell on the concentration of Muslim theologians at Hughli. He did not mention any Europeans living there excepting Lamark. This is a clear contrast to the situation prevailing nearly 50 years before his arrival when the city was full of Europeans. Unfortunately, Ghulam Husain Salim writing from Malda almost at the same time did not mention the Muslim theologians. It is rather perplexing that there are no remains of buildings either at Satgaon or at Hughli. Only at the western end of Satgaon, one finds the half-broken mosque of Jamaluddin and two Vaishanbha monasteries at a little distance from each other. At Hughli, there are no remains. Campos has printed in his book the picture of a halfbroken pillar submerged in the river. In the late eighteenth century, the Dutch delegate Stavornius had seen buildings on the southern bank of the Saraswati probably at Satgaon where the Dutch used to go for weekends. The ruins of some buildings have been seen in the nineteenth century as recorded in a Bengali book by Sudhir Kumar Mitra. By early twentieth century, neither D.G. Crawford nor Rakhaldas could spot a single building excepting the mosque of Jamaluddin. In the mid-seventeenth century, the Dutch traveller Schouten had referred to a big square where five streets met and at the end of the street there were five temples full of devotees. In the late eighteenth century, Modave could not find a good market so he did not refer to any temple. There was a big mound on the south-east corner of Hughli. This is now locally called Manigalahat which is a market. This square could be with five temples. But no archaeological work is done and nothing could be said with certainty. But the fact remains that at Satgaon on the southern bank of Saraswati there are some white stone pillars lying on the bank. Some anchors were alleged to have been found nearby. The problem is to answer the question why the buildings mentioned by so many travellers have vanished without a trace. The locals now point out that during the ebb tide, one can see the crest of a temple under the water near the southern bank of the

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Saraswati River. The obvious conclusion seems to be that these were all engulfed by the flood of the Hooghly River sometime at the end of the nineteenth century. Probably this flood water of Hooghly had spilled over to Saraswati which in turn had engulfed the southern bank of the river including the buildings and temples located there. The narratives of the European travellers leave one in no doubt about the tremendous development of Hughli within a short time span of 100 years. After Arakan and Portuguese piracy at the eastern coast, the capital was transferred from Dhaka to Murshidabad sometime in 1713. This had further boosted the development of the western bank of the Bhagirathi River. The rise of the English Company led to the growth of Calcutta in 1765 that finally saw the decline of the port of Hughli along with Murshidabad. Apart from these big cities, there were some market towns which could not develop into a big city. Jiaganj and Azimganj in north Bengal had already been referred to. In west Bengal, Burdwan began to grow for various reasons including its location on the route from North India to Orissa. In east Bengal, Jessore became famous for the revolt of Zamindar Pratapaditya at one time. Bakla on the coast had become important for some time. But the history of the small towns had not been written so far.

Part II:  De-Urbanization The year 1757 was a watershed in the history of Bengal. It saw the defeat of Siraj-ud Daulah, the near independent Nawab of the Subah and the rise of the English trading company as the de facto political master. The event was followed by the transfer of Diwani in its favour in 1765, which changed the entire administrative as well as financial set up of the Subah. As Calcutta had already been the chief centre of trade of the English East India Company this place acquired immense prestige within a short period. Its importance multiplied when the Mughal Emperor Shah Alam II granted Diwani, i.e. right to collect revenues and to defray the cost of justice in revenue-related matters in 1765. The position of the Nawab was relegated further. The Nawab was assured a fixed sum annually by the Company with which he was to arrange securities of the Subah and to preside over the criminal court. But from the very next year, the Company started defaulting



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and a few years later refused to pay the stipulated amount. Bengal had a chequered history of revenue collection since the closing days of Aurangzeb’s reign (d. 1707). It could have developed an able revenue administration under the stewardship of Murshid Quli Khan. When other Subahs had failed to remit their annual dues to the imperial coffer, Bengal never defaulted. ‘In the domain of political stability and the state of law and order, the situation in Bengal in the first half of the eighteenth century was certainly no worse than it had been during the seventeenth.’ Normalcy was only disrupted in the 1740s, breaking the process of easy and normal flow of money into the government exchequer. This practice of transfer of fund to the centre continued for many years under the rule of Sujauddin Khan and his son Sarafaraj Khan, the successors of Murshid Quli Khan (d. 1727). After remitting a huge sum, the Nawabs could build a magnificent city like Murshidabad. This city was not only the seat of administration, it was also a centre of trade for its proximity to Qasimbazar, a silk mart of international fame. A number of magnificent townships had been built during the Mughal rule in whole of India. Townbuilding was a major work undertaken by the Turkish, Afghan and Mughal rulers. Bengal was no exception; it had a unique advantage. It could produce plenty of crops in several varieties and also it had a flourishing trade with a link of far-flung regions. ‘High quality products of Dacca and Murshidabad “were a good example.” This valuable trade, worth Rs.50 lakhs in the 1720s, had been largely accounted for by a few huge purchasers, notably the Mughal court and Jagat Seths’1. The high-quality ‘muslins’ were most sought after. Such high-quality products had their respective markets centring which small and large towns grew up. The trade had brought various kinds of people in Bengal. No doubt that its agricultural as well as artisanal produce had worked as the backbone of its number of urban settlements. In the immediately preceding age, i.e. under the Mughals, the rulers’ constant endeavour had been to surpass his predecessor in building new townships. This very tradition got buried under the new dispensation. The English rulers were traders whose principal aim was to extract maximum monetary advantage for their trade and then their project of territorial expansion. Hence, a frugal attitude is found in their part. Whatever expenses were made those were made primarily for defence purposes.2 In some cases, the Company sold

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out buildings which it did not occupy for use.3 Bengal, particularly western Bengal, including the capital of the Subah had some serious problem since this part was ravaged by the Maratha light infantry several times. The Maratha warlord, Bhonsle could extract the right to collect ‘Chauth’ from Bengal by an order of the Mughal Emperor. Their frequent invasion spoiled not only agriculture, but also trading activities in many ways. Alivardi Khan (d. 1756) had to spend all his life as Nawab in chasing the Marathas. The horror committed by them did not escape the notice of Holwell, the narrator of ‘Black hole’ incidence. The marauding forces nearly devastated both mulberry plantation and silk manufacture.4 Their marauding activities died down in the earlier years of 1750s, but a new phenomenon appeared with victory of the English. Murshidabad once compared with some renowned cities of contemporary Europe in terms of population and grandeur faced decline at a very fast pace. In 1837, Mr William Adam, the Magistrate found the population to amount to 124,804. But the figure appeared during the census of 1872 was only 46,182,5 while the figure in Calcutta during the same year was no less than 497,601.6 In the changed atmosphere, exactions up to the maximum limit in the name of revenue collection put severe blow to the purchasing power of the traditional consumer class. Inflow of precious metals into the heartland between 1740 and about 1790 was disrupted. First, there was Company’s exaction. Secondly, ‘The Mughal revenue pump failed, starving the interior of silver.’7 All those in combination ultimately ruined the urban settlements. Not only political changes, but nature and topography of Bengal in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries underwent a process of huge change. as a result of cataclysmic events like the earthquake of 1762 and major inundations of 1769 and 1786–8, as well as cumulative effects of changes in the upper reaches of river systems: the Tista moved to the east, perhaps in 1786–8, and the Mahananda, Karatoya and Atrai declined: ports mentioned by Buchanan Hamilton on the Atrai disappeared into oblivion.8

Similar were the conditions of some other major rivers that had been used as waterways for trade. Kosi also changed its course. The major problem arose in western Bengal where ‘the Bhagirathi river system declined; the Bhagirathi was not navigable throughout



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the year  .  .  .  the Hughly was the artery of trade. In central Bengal silting up of rivers and oscillation in river courses was observed in Murshidabad and Nadia; the decline of Murshidabad town was partly for the reason.’9 The nearby town and one of the busiest trading marts, Qashimbazar, also suffered from this problem. The East India Company after assuming the reins of administration tried to desilt the river here to enable the heavy boats to sail. It engaged private persons for regular desiltation in lieu of toll charged upon the boats sailing the river which was usually called as ‘Cossimbazar River’.10 Ultimately, the Company had ‘annulled’ the contract for the work with Captain Macgowan in 1783.11 The distributaries of that river such as the Ichhamati, the Jalangi and also the Mathabhanga, all Nadia Rivers lost touch with the Bhagirathi and within a short span of time these rivers themselves became main channels.12 For centuries, the drainage system of this region has been constituted by the tributaries and distributaries of the Ganga and the Brahmaputra along with some insignificant river systems discharging into the Bay of Bengal. Sudden changes in the river systems affected seriously the course of the rivers in the lower Bengal. Since the mid-sixteenth century ‘the old channel of the Bhagirathi began also to decay the decline being especially manifest after the southern detour of the Damodar in 1770.’13 In the last three decades of the eighteenth century, frequent changes took place in the course of number of channels affecting the normal flow. The problems multiplied for other reasons too. A survey in the year 1865 emphatically noted: ‘There are several shoals in the river over which vessels drawing more than 10 feet cannot pass at lowest water, but as the state of lowest water hardly ever occurs, the practical limit of draught at low water may be taken at 12 feet.’14 Several attempts to improve fordability failed. All those led to a massive change in settlement patterns, cultivations and, above all, trading activities. Recurring floods often wiped out settlements. Numerous changes of course of some rivers also wreaked havoc. Since long Saptagram or Satgaon on the confluence of the rivers Bhagirathi and Saraswati commanded a position of importance. The late Jadunath Sarkar by quoting Salimullah’s Twarikh-i-Bangala had shown the trade relation of this port town with Pegu, Arakan, Tenasserim, Malay, Java and Persian Gulf. This trade was operated by a good number of Muslim traders under direct patronage of Murshid Quli Khan.15 The Lower

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Bengal ‘from their Situation were particularly exposed to the effects of the Inundation. The Inhabitants of the Dacca District have been the principal sufferers’.16 But in the nineteenth century, with the trade, the traders also disappeared.17 Though not so severely affected by the rise of the Europeans sudden change in the river system brought misfortune for some towns. Purnea is one such town. For the change in course of the river Koshi, Purnea town lost its past glory.18 Qasimbazar’s story of woes was also related to some extent with the change of course of the Bhagirati.19 To cope with the recurring problem of breach in the river banks the zamindars with the help of the subah administration had employed men and money for repair, etc. Now this duty fell on the shoulders of the East India Company. The river banks at Murshidabad and Qasimbazar were to be kept in order. But the Directors warned their officials to be careful while undertaking the work.20 For their apathy, the river route could not be used properly as that had been possible during the previous regime. Natural lay-out of water courses helped in transporting goods easily. A good number of trading marts normally called as ganjas (big market) grew along the rivers, some of which became urban centres. Prolonged peace under the Mughals accelerated trading activities, which had allured people from far and near to this part of India. But navigation above Murshidabad was only seasonal since the fordability of majority of rivers was low during the dry season. Still trade could not be hindered. But this trend died after 1757. The stranglehold of the English East India Company brought a metamorphosis overnight. Their greed for money destroyed the age-old pattern of trade. They also succeeded in weakening other foreign companies’ trading in Bengal. Within years of their victory at Plassey, the faujdar of Hughli Sulaiman Beg was directed by the Company not to invest in the Dutch factory, 21 which had been active there for long. Hughli’s sufferings were immense. The place was surrendered by the Dutch to the English. Matter was so grim ‘that many of the Dutch inhabitants since the surrender  .  .  .  being deprived of their former means of subsistence were reduced to the greatest indigence, and several of the more respectable families brought to such distress as to be obliged private[ly] to sell off their furniture and ornaments to maintain themselves.’22 During his visit to this place in 1773–4, the Count of Modave of France expressed



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his surprise that Hughli had been a prosperous place. He found it in almost ruins though it had excellent communication facilities.23 The condition of the Danes in Fredricksnagore, i.e. Srirampure on the river Hughli was the same. Restriction was imposed upon their trade of saltpetre.24 That was sufficient to cause decadence of the Danish settlement. Finally, ‘after the principle of excluding other Traders’ Lord Cornwallis in his letter dated 1November 1788 addressed to the Directors in London proposed for a new law which would compel ‘a Weaver [who] worked for the Company, he should work for them only.’25 Indigenous traders also bore the sudden heat of the changed circumstances. Lord Cornwallis in his letter to the Directors exposed the motives of the Company when he wrote: ‘Since the Establishment of an European Government in this Country has opened the way for so many Europeans into various parts of it, their superior activity and vigour has given them a large space of the field of Trade, especially as almost whole of the Manufactures; and the bulk of trade ‘now center in the European Settlements, and chiefly in Calcutta’. The support of the locals as claimed in the letter also gave ‘Foreigners an ascendancy over them [i.e. the Indians]’.26 It is well known that urban centres of Bengal had emerged with the growth of trade and artisanal craft, which faced its stiffest challenge. Bengal’s forte was its silk goods and printed calicoes. Qasimbazar had earned its fame by producing fine silk goods. But it lost its prime position soon. The huge silk filature of the Company was transformed into a hospital for the European troops cantoned at nearby Berhampur.27 Silk goods, produced here had found a huge market in Europe in the seventeenth century. The Dutch company was one of the big players in this trade. But the quantum of their export dwindled in the earlier decades of the following century.28 Whereas, the calico printers of England placed a memorial before the British Parliament requesting it to put certain embargo upon the calico imports from Bengal. Following this, the Court of Directors asked the officials in India in 1782 to ‘withhold the importation of printed goods from Bengal for the term of four years, to commence’ from 1783.29 Hence the import of cotton goods from Dhaka and Baranagore (this place had already been taken from the Dutch) was strictly restricted.30 With the huge curtailment in export trade which spread in the countries around the Indian Ocean along with Europe,31

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loss of employments as the fall-out can easily be presumed. Some cases like piracy, etc., caused havoc. Chittagong, once a busy port was time and again devastated by the Mags, a marauding tribe. To save the cargoes once the Company had engaged one Captain Forde for armed pilotage in the waters.32 This arrangement by the local authorities was nullified by the Directors in London33 though it had been previously admitted at the highest level that the coastal guard was a necessity,34 Dhaka and Rangpur’s problem was of different kind. The complaint in Dhaka was against violent activities of the robbers. To quell them, armed intervention was required.35 To quell banditry in Rangpur, the Company refused to share financial liability.36 In such a way, law and order problems contributed to the decadence of such towns to some extent. During the Nawabi rule, long distance trade had its contribution towards the growth of a number of markets which, in turn, in course of years were transformed into towns. Lower Gangetic delta was fortunate enough due to some of its all-season river routes. Hence all the important towns emerged along its course. This riverine transport facility enabled long distance trade.37 Murshidabad-Qasimbazar led the way while others like Hughli-Chinsura, Chandannagore, and Srirampur followed successfully. Although Dhaka, Natore, Rangpur and Chittagong did not fall in this region, those also were privileged with water transport facilities in one way or other. After 1757, the entire trading activity of this region underwent a sea-change. The officials of the Company converted those trading marts into feeder zones for the market at Calcutta. Concentration of capital and entrepreneurs in Calcutta precipitated the decline of other urban settlements. The leading Indian merchants gradually lost their hold over the markets and then permanently pushed to the back. The Indian share of the total tonnage of ships over 80 tons was only 5.2 per cent in 1805, 4 per cent in 1817 and 8 per cent in 1825.38 How the indigenous traders retreated is known to us. Under the aegis of the Company, Bengal entered into a phase of bazaar economy.39 The greatest constraint on the internal trade network was the system of transit duties. There were a number of duties namely sayer duties imposed by the zamindars. Those were abolished between 1773 and 1793, but the Company started to impose customs duty apart from town duties. Those created new impediments before the free



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movement of goods. Eventually, big trading marts along with towns perished. In his letter dated 1 November 1788 to the Directors, Lord Cornwallis suggested that ‘Calcutta as the grand Market would be abundantly stored with goods, and that the Company by purchasing these would be saved from the necessity of making Advances and from the charge of Establishments.’ Since Calcutta by then had been stacked with goods meant for the European markets as other markets had sunk, he opined that ‘An extension of the Manufactures therefore being neither required.’40 The condition of Hughli may be cited here. Joseph Tiffenthaeler, the German priest visited Hughli after about 15 years after the Battle of Plassey and could only see the ruins of the beautiful houses there.41 Certainly, Hughli was not a single example. One of the principal hindrances of urban growth was paucity of fund. Soon after 1765 the revenue demand was increasing. The zamindars failed to cope with the situation.42 Their inability to pay the increased demand of the Company had certain effects on the urban centres. They normally patronized the artisan communities and used to build various structures which in combination had raised the towns in various parts of Bengal. Now with the change of time the towns lost their patrons. The last few decades of eighteenth century witnessed huge change in the class of zamindars. A new kind of speculators, based chiefly around Calcutta, started buying of zamindary estates. Since they used to buy zamindaris with a high commitment of rent they started collecting revenue from the royats with much vigour which ultimately mopped up last drop of resources from the villages. Moreover, these new zamindars did not spend money to sustain whatever remained in the towns in the districts. For various reasons cowries, the common medium of currency prevalent in those days depreciated by about 36 per cent between 1808 and 1812, which hit the zamindars very hard since the peasants were used to pay rent in cowries.43 The Permanent Settlement robbed the zamindari income substantially and simultaneously ‘as many as 15,000 fixed rural markets had disappeared.’44 The English made Calcutta their headquarter not only in Bengal, but also in India after the promulgation of the Charter of 1773. The made the Nawab a puppet after procuring the Diwani in 1765. The treasury was shifted to Calcutta and the Nawab lost his authority in dealing with criminal cases, while the Company could officially

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enjoy dealing with all revenue related as well as civil matters. The minting facilities of Dhaka45 and Murshidabad continued only for few years, but on 5 January 1761, the Company offered its gratitude to newly-appointed Nawab Mir Qasim for treating the sikka minted at the Company’s mint at Calcutta at par with the official currency.46 It did not take much time for the mint of Murshidabad to decimate. It was reported in November 1764 that the purity of silver in the coins minted at Murshidabad could not match the coins minted at Calcutta.47 In 1768, minting of gold coins was prohibited due to the scarcity of gold.48 On 20 May 1771, Md. Reza Khan, then Naib, drew the attention of the Company that in that year permission to mint new sikkas in Murshidabad and in other mints yet to be issued though it had been the custom to start minting on 1 of Jumada, i.e. the date of ‘His Majesty’s accession’.49 The Nawab was relegated to a position of non-entity. With him, fate of the capital city of Murshidabad was also doomed. After the acquisition of the Diwani in 1765, the Company pledged to offer a stipend of Rs.53 lakh annually to the Nawab for his own maintenance and also for the cost of maintaining police force since the Nawab was to preside over Nizamat administration. These arrangements were made during the Nawabship of Nazam ud Daulah (d. May 1766). From his time to the Nawabship of Mubarak ud Daulah, this stipend was drastically reduced. There were several arguments on the part of the Company. Since a chunk of administrative responsibilities had been assumed by the Company the Nawab’s expenses had to be reduced. Nawab Nazam ud Daulah had no power to bargain and willingly accepted the stipend offered by the Company. He was succeeded by Saif ud Daulah and then by Mubarak ud Daulah, both young and minor. Taking advantage of their age, the Company again reduced the stipend.50 Hence a large number of persons who were termed ’parasites’ and ‘sycophant’ by the Company, so far employed in the service of the state, lost their livelihood. Sadar Diwani Court to dispose civil matters was transferred to Calcutta along with Khalsa or the state treasury. The right to pronounce capital punishment was taken from the hand of the Nawab. Importance of punyaha or the day held each year on which the revenue demand on the zamindars was to be fixed gradually went into obscurity. It was officially admitted by the earlier part of the year 1788 that the importance of Murshidabad had declined.51



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Finally on 1 January 1791, Lord Cornwallis abolished the post of Naib Nazim. As the normal pattern elsewhere, the urban centres depended not only on trade alone, but also on agricultural productions. The Company as a ruler and also as a principal supplier of raw materials to European as well as East Asian markets encouraged the cultivation of cash crops. ‘The area under cash crops whose cultivation did stimulate agriculture in some regions formed an insignificant portion of the total cultivation.’52 Moreover recurring famines starting from the infamous famine of 1770 devastated considerable parts of Bengal. Jiaganj-Azimganj, the twin towns facing each other on the river Bhagirathi and just a few kilometres up from Murshidabad were big markets for grain. In the late 1770s, the grain trade was gradually concentrated in Calcutta. This caused the migration of the traders to other places leaving both these settlements.53 Purnea was one such district where famine of 1770 wreaked havoc. Its urban areas witnessed a huge number of death.54 It failed to regain its earlier vitality. While Purnea suffered from famine, Dhaka’s woes generated from inundations in 1788. Their velocity was reported to the Directors by Lord Cornwallis.55 With these natural calamities other pressures also affected the normal economic behaviour of the entire province. The changes in economic as well as social life were also brought by the new land system. Soon after 1765, the officials of the Company started putting their entire energies to enhance the revenue. The demands were pressing in several respects. Being failed to comply with the exorbitant demands of the government and the stringent rules for recovery the traditional landlords were forced to part with their zamindaris. Their place was occupied by the newly-formed upstarts who used to curve out their fortune as the compradors of the Company and its officials. With the passing of each day, Calcutta was getting all types of focus. From 1773, Calcutta became the financial as well as administrative capital of Bengal the position which was once held by Dhaka. Moreover, the constitution of the Supreme Court also contributed in the process. The residents of Calcutta were treated as the subjects of the Company and the judges, all of whom were English were guided by the process of English common law. They were all along at loggerheads with the Company’s officials. These judges

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offered several types of legal protections to the residents of the town.56 This allured a large number of persons most of whom were fortuneseekers to flock into Calcutta. Most of them became the middlemen and compradors in the Company’s trade. Sometimes these people became partners of private European traders and amassed huge wealth. In the process, all the traditional trading marts slowly lost their respective position and fortune. People began to desert those places and settled down in Calcutta. This place snatched all the focus. Adequate supply of provisions was made just before the year of the famine of 1770. Dastaks or official permits were issued a number of times for bringing foodstuffs for Calcutta.57 The industrial revolution first in England and then in the rest of Europe revolutionized entire production process. Production in all fields doubled, but in textile it was multiplied.58 Now Bengal, once the exporter of fine cloths, became a huge market of machine-made products overnight. Moreover, by the Parliamentary Act, the British people were prohibited from wearing coloured clothes. Import duties were enhanced.59 Needless to say, the target was to prohibit imports from India. The chief among all the traditional textile-producing centres were Dhaka, Murshidabad, Santipur, Sonamukhi, etc. Under the Mughals, most expert weavers were ‘selected to work here’ to weave finest muslins for the use of the Imperial family.60 They failed to compete with the cheaper foreign products and the sufferings of Dhaka was irreparable. The ‘Nawabs: had brought the ironsmiths from northern India and granted them revenue-free lands to settle in Dhaka. But they failed to compete with cheap foreign products and nominal purchase by the Company.’61 Dhaka’s woes were of several kinds. When the Company had been engaged in severe conflict with Mir Qasim Dhaka ‘seems to have been the prey of three separate armies, being captured by the followers of Mir Qasim, retaken by Muhammad Reza Khan, and pillaged by the Sannyasis’.62 Dhaka was then governed by a Naib Nazim starting with Jasarat Khan. He was succeeded by his eldest grandson, Hashmat Jang in 1799 and Hashmat was succeeded by his brother, Nasrat Jang who occupied the office till his death in 1822. In that year, the Company decided to abolish the post. Last sign of the independent subah administration thus vanished. With it, whatever glory Dhaka still enjoyed evaporated. Soon after the Battle of Plassey, the principal production centres



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became easy preys of the Company’s officials. Dhaka did not escape from their greedy eyes. ‘One of the best known instances of private trade at the Dacca Factory is that of Mr Richard Burwell, who, while Chief here, made a fortune in salt transactions in Backerganj. Six months after he arrived in Dacca he applied for permission to remit a lakh of rupees in bullion to England.’63 Apart from the official channel to transfer wealth to home the officials clandestinely used to remit huge amount of money from Bengal. Salt, the Company’s monopoly, was one such item which provided opportunity to the officials. One Robert Lindsay, working as a junior merchant at Dhaka, confessed that the natives were prevented from trading directly with salt and ‘that the lots fell’ on the ‘dependents of the Members of Council, who by this means gained to themselves a considerable advantage.  .  .  . A fair opportunity I thought, now occurred of bettering myself  .  .  .’.64 This was not a stray case. High official like Warren Hastings was also engaged in this trade. As an end result, wealth of Dhaka was drained off soon. Prior to the battle of Palasi the presence of other European companies, chief among who were the French and the Dutch had created an environment of competitions which now vanished. By a treaty in 1824, the Dutch ceded all their trading establishments in India to the English. The Portuguese had also left their factory at Sangat-tola. The French factory which had been in trade since long, also lost its activities. Thus, the English occupied a position of monopoly and forced the indigenous producers to sell their produce at the price offered to them. The Dutch also faced the similar hurdles in procuring cloths. The weavers had ‘to accept the price they are offered and will not be able to sell their goods to the highest bidder.’ It was even feared that the ‘merchants of this country will be deprived of their just privileges and ultimately of the necessities of life.’65 No European, including the Dutch, was allowed to trade in salt. The boats carrying the article were seized by the Government officials.66 Intentional official discrimination ruined one of the most flourishing industries.67 Moreover, for non-availability of coins the Dutch and others suffered.68 In course of time, on the one hand, volume of trade of both the French at Chandernagore and Dhaka and the Dutch at Hughli declined. On the other hand, the ascendency of the English East India Company helped the English in general. They elbowed out the Indians from the trading activities.69

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Dhaka and Narayanganj were the twin towns in the district. Dhaka had acquired reputation due to her textile industry and administrative position during the Mughal era. Merchants from far and near came here and settled permanently. A number of ‘tola’, ‘tuli’, ‘ganja’, ‘bazar’ relating to such merchant communities70 can still be heard in Dhaka. Unfortunately, the latter half of the eighteenth century brought its woes. Judged by the population index alone, Dhaka’s sufferings were immense. In 1815, its population was estimated to be 150,000 by Walter Hamilton.71 Dr James Taylor states that in 1837, the district magistrate could estimate the population amounting to 403,609,72 though it is not stated how this figure was arrived at. He quoted the figure 60,617 during his stay at Dhaka,73 as had been enumerated during the census of 1838 which seems surprisingly low. In another computation, the figure was arrived at 68,038.74 In 1801, the population of the town was estimated at 200,000 and Bishop Heber in 1823 supposed that it contained 90,000 houses and 300,000 inhabitants. But just seven years later, H. Walter, the Judge and Magistrate, could find only 66,989 persons living in Dhaka. ‘The city continued to decline, however, for some years, until the trade in jute and country produce began to make up for the loss of its cotton manufactures. In 1867, the population was estimated at 51,636; it is now [in 1872] 69,212’.75 All those figures except the last one are confusing since the computation had never been proper nor accurate. However, the decline was obvious which suggest the decadence of Dhaka. With Dhaka, all the textile producing centres faced ultimate doom with the changed circumstances. Indian piece goods lost their markets in the newly formed United States of America, Portugal, Holland, Denmark and Sweden. All types of artisans connected with the production were affected. ‘If we assume that private traders, British and “foreign Europe”, employed the same number of workers as did the East India Company—perhaps they had a much larger number in their employ—we would be justified in concluding that 10,00,000 people were by 1828 thrown out of employment’;76 ‘some became sannyasis, some byragis, others coolies. Very few became agriculturists and none mechanics’.77 Even the Company’s Board of Trade admitted that ‘a revolution so mighty ad complete, we conceive, is hardly to be paralleled in the history of commerce.’78 Most of



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the urban settlements like Dhaka during those days in Bengal had emerged on the production of cotton cloths. Everywhere weavers had to desert their paternal profession due to the massive invasion of cheap foreign cloths. Chittagong also faced the same situation. Being one of the principal ports of Bengal since the days of the independent Sultans it attracted a number of persons as well as foreigners, the Portuguese being the first one to come and settle here. This place commended such an importance that to get rid of the oppression of the Mughal officials ‘An expedition was fitted out in England  .  .  ., under the command of Admiral Nicholson’. 79 He was asked to capture Chittagong in 1686. Nothing could be achieved then. But the English did not lose heart. Two years later another expedition under the command of one Heath also faced the same result. That was the last English expedition to occupy Chittagong, which was ultimately brought under their control in 1760. From that year, the English East India Company started to oust its competitors. They cleverly ousted the French by using the official position. ‘[T]he prosperity of the port had been on the decline, owing to several causes, such as the long domination of the land-loving Mughals, the occurrence of earthquakes, and the rivalry of Calcutta.’80 Abbe Raynal in his History of the Settlements and Trade of the Europeans in the East and West Indies (published in 1777) mentioned the utter dislike of this place by the English. The same gloomy picture was drawn by a contemporary author. The author lamented (in 1786–8) that in face of the growth of Calcutta, Chittagong had lost all its importance as a port.81 Similar was the picture in Purnea. It became only a rice hub,82 while transforming its urban settlements into rural. In 1872, the town contained a population of 20,604 only.83 Condition of a number of urban settlements along the river Hughli in Nadia district was not good too. Krishnanagar, the seat of famous Hindu chief Maharaja Krishnachandra was a place of learning, which could attract a good number of scholars from far and near. Ramprasad Sen, the poet in the preface of his widely-read Vidyasundar epic describes the grandeur of Krishnachandra’s court,84 where men of letters were well-received. But for the imposition of new rent laws Krishnachandra lost a major part of his zamindari. Later the family failed to cope with the changed situation. Krishnanagar lost its glory. Similarly, Santipur one

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of biggest producers of cotton fabrics had to face competition and official oppression. The urban centres as the result were transformed into market-places. But for the troubles in the neighbouring Burma, a considerable number of men and women emigrated in Chittagong in the closing years of the eighteenth century, which caused a highway to be laid between Ramu and Ukhia Ghat. This work eventually exhausted the treasury of the Company’s establishment there.85 Still peace could not be brought their due to constant turmoil in Burma.86 The location and topography of Chittagong were such that it could be easily changed into battlefield for the Arakans, Mugs and such tribes who were never ready to abide by any established protocol. Even the Directors sitting in London had to order armed protection of cargo boats passing through Chittagong waters.87 Eventually, Chittagong became an agglomeration of some villages though the port functioned normally. But the town itself was a collection of small villages and for its scenic beauty with hilly tracts became a health resort only. By utilizing its political authority, the Company not only ousted its competitors but also destroyed Bengal’s artisan crafts. Previously, all the foreign traders had to bring primarily bullion since no finished product could match the produce of Bengal for their purchase. The English had also done that. But now they gradually changed that practice. Their primary objective was to bring as much machinemade products from England and to transfer raw materials and precious metals and stones from Bengal. The Company’s officials succeeded in the process. So the Court of Directors expressed their satisfaction through a letter dated 15 May 1799 in this language, ‘that the average imports for three years exceeded the exports in the sum of 14,64,007 rupees  .  .  .  we are pleased,  .  .  .  at the information  .  .  .  that the exportation of bullion and coins is gradually decreasing.’88 When money was in short supply, administrative attitude lackadaisical, scope of employment nominal and the traditional gentry was elbowed out none could expect an atmosphere for urbanization. In such a situation, traditional urban centres faced rapid decline. As the foreign masters were not inclined in investing funds towards raising urban structures individuals in some places contributed towards that end. But this could not be achieved with their help. Without government enterprise no town could



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be established. Moreover, regular natural calamities, pestilence put break on whatever little work was then undertaken. With the imposition of the Permanent Settlement in 1793, a huge chunk of private wealth was invested in land. For the prevalence of sun-set law, indigenous money-elite was engrossed in land speculation. They like the government were less interested in investing money in other pursuits. Complaints was also received in 1773 that ‘In the days of the Mughal government the revenues of Bengal increased every year. The inhabitants of each subah were in a state of affluence.  .  .  . Since the Company’s administration the revenue have been declining. The indigence of the people is everywhere noticeable’.89 Bengal witnessed a series of disturbances, as a consequence of which general peace was affected. Disturbance of any nature seriously affected normal life and the first victim of such situation was communication network and trade. Policing was often reported ‘superfluous’.90 Atmosphere for any urban growth was neither conducive nor there was a sign for rectification. In this manner, Bengal’s scenario was transformed into a rural one.

Notes   1. C.A. Bayly, Rulers Townsmen and Bazaars: North Indian Society in the Age of British Expansion, 1770–1870, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992, p. 148.  2. Letter to Court dated 25 November 1776, Fort William—India House Correspondence, vol. VII, ed. R.P. Patwardhan, Delhi: National Archives of India, 1971, para. 23.  3. Letter from Court dated 3 March 1775, Fort William, vol. VII, ed. Patwardhan, para. 74.  4. Ranajit Guha and A. Mitra, eds., West Bengal District Records, (New Series). Burdwan. Letters issued 1788–1800, Calcutta; Office of the Suptdt. Of Census Operations, West Bengal, 1956, p. LVIII.  5. H. Beverley, Report on the Census of Bengal, 1872, Calcutta: Bengal Secretariat Press, 1872, p. 102.  6. Ibid., p. 91.  7. Bayly, Rulers Townsmen and Bazaars, p. 227.   8. S. Bhattacharya, ‘Regional Economy (1757–1857): Eastern India I’, in The Cambridge Economic History of India, vol. 2, ed. Dharma Kumar, Delhi: Orient Longmans (in association with Cambridge University Press), 1984, pp. 270–1.

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  9. Ibid., p. 271. 10. Letter from Court dated 25 January 1782, Fort William—India House Correspondence, vol. IX, ed. H.A. Saletore, Delhi: National Archives of India, 1959, para. 132. 11. Letter to Court dated 5 April 1783, Fort William, vol. IX, ed. Saletore, para. 51. 12. The Imperial Gazetteer of India: Provincial Series; Bengal, vol. I, Secretariat Press Calcutta, 1909, p. 6. 13. R.K. Mukherjee, The Changing Face of Bengal: A Study in Riverine Economy, Calcutta: University of Calcutta, 1938, pp. 8–9. 14. Hugh C.E. Leonard, Report on the River Hooghly dtd.1865 with George Robertson; Note on The Works Undertaken for the Improvements of the Moyapore Shoal dtd.1872, Bengal Secretariat Press, Calcutta, 1888, para. 15. 15. Jadu Nath Sarkar, ed., The History of Bengal, Vol. II: Muslim Period, 1200–1757, 1948, repr., Dacca: University of Dacca, 1972, p. 412. 16. Letter to Court dated 6 November 1788, Fort William—India House Correspondence, vol. X, ed. Raghubir Singh, Delhi: National Archives of India, 1972, para. 351. 17. Narendra Krishna Sinha, The Economic History of Bengal, 1793–1848, vol. III, Calcutta: Firma KLM, 1985, p. 122. 18. L.S.S. O’Malley, District Gazetteer: Purnea, Calcutta: Bengal Secretariat Book Depot, 1911, pp. 103, 193. 19. Mukherjee, Changing Face of Bengal, pp. 149–81. 20. Letter from Court dated 27 March 1787, Fort William, vol. X, ed. Singh, para 226. 21. Calendar of Persian Correspondence, vol. I, Calcutta: Superintendent Government Printing, 1911, no. 350. 22. Letter to Court dated 9 May 1782, Fort William, vol. IX, ed. Saletore, para. 18. 23. Aniruddha Ray, Towns and Cities of Medieval India, New Delhi: Routledge, 2015, p. 463. 24. Letter to Court dated 5 April 1783, Fort William, vol. IX, ed. Saletore, para. 34. 25. Lord Cornwallis’s letter to Court dated 1 November 1788, Fort William, vol. X, ed. Singh, para. 25. 26. Letter from Cornwallis to Court dated 3 November 1788, Fort William, vol. X, ed. Singh, para. 23. 27. Letter to Court dated 15 March 1774, Fort William, vol. VII, ed. Patwardhan, para. 52. 28. Om Prakash, The Dutch East India Company and the Economy of Bengal, 1630–1720, 1985; Bombay: Oxford University Press, 1988, p. 207.



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29. Letter from Court dated 12 July 1782, Fort William, vol. IX, ed. Saletore, para. 10. 30. Letter from Court dated 16 March 1784, Fort William, vol. IX, ed. Saletore, para. 5. 31. Om Prakash, ‘Trade and Politics in Eighteenth-century Bangal’, in The Eighteenth Century in India, ed. Seema Alavi, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2002, p. 141. 32. Letter from Court dated 23 December 1778, Fort William—India House Correspondence, vol. VIII, ed. H.L. Gupta, Delhi: National Archives of India, 1981, para. 79. 33. Letter from Court dated 25 January 1782, Fort William, vol. IX, ed. Saletore, para. 121. 34. Letter from Court dated 23 December 1778, Fort William, vol. VIII, ed. Gupta, para. 81. 35. Letter to Court dated 3 August 1775, Fort William, vol. VII, ed. Patwardhan, para. 26. 36. Letter to Court dated 12 September 1776, Fort William, vol. VII, ed. Patwardhan, para. 12. 37. Bhattacharya, ‘Regional Economy (1757–1857): Eastern India I’, p. 271. 38. Ibid. 39. Rajat Ray, ed., ‘Introduction’, in Entrepreneurship and Industry in India, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1992, pp. 1–69. 40. Lord Cornwallis’s letter dated 1 November 1788 to Court, Fort William, vol. X, ed. Singh, para. 29. 41. Ray, Towns and Cities of Medieval India, p. 462. 42. B. Chaudhuri, ‘Agrarian Relations: Eastern India’, The Cambridge Economic History of India, vol. 2, ed. Dharma Kumar, Delhi: Orient Longmans (in association with Cambridge University Press), 1984, pp. 94–5. 43. Ibid., p. 95. 44. Bayly, Rulers Townsmen and Bazaars, p. 280. 45. Calendar of Persian Correspondence, vol. I, Calcutta: Superintendent Government Printing, 1911, no. 1443. Mir Qasim desired to mint new currency in place of old at Dhaka in February 1762. 46. Ibid., no. 770. 47. Ibid., no. 2465. 48. Calendar of Persian Correspondence, vol. II, Calcutta: Superintendent Government Printing, 1914, no. 1004. 49. Calendar of Persian Correspondence, vol. III, Calcutta: Superintendent Government Printing, 1919, no. 753. 50. Khan Mohsin Mohammad, A Bengal District in Transition: Murshidabad, 1765–1793, Dacca: The Asiatic Society of Bangladesh, 1973, pp. 156–8.

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51. Letter from Court dated 12 April 1786, Fort William, vol. X, ed. Singh, para. 23. 52. B. Chaudhuri, ‘Regional Economy (1757–1857): Eastern India II’, in The Cambridge Economic History of India, vol. 2, ed. Dharma Kumar, Delhi: Orient Longmans (in association with Cambridge University Press), 1984, p. 307. 53. Mohammad, A Bengal District in Transition, p. 17. 54. O’Malley, District Gazetteer: Purnea, p. 97. 55. Letter to Court dated 3 November 1788, Fort William, vol. X, ed. Singh, para. 16. 56. Soumitra Sreemani, Anatomy of a Colonial Town: Calcutta 1756–1794, Calcutta: Firma KLM, 1994, pp. 16–22. 57. Calendar of Persian Correspondence, vol. II, nos. 424–8. 58. E.J. Hobsbawm, Industry and Empire, Hammondsworth: Penguin, 1978, pp. 58–9. 59. Sinha, Economic History of Bengal, vol. III, p. 12. 60. B.C. Allen, Eastern Bengal District Gazetteers: Dacca, Allahabad: The Pioneer Press, 1912, pp. 105–6. 61. Letter from Court dated 12 April 1786, Fort William, vol. X, ed. Singh, para. 131; and Bhattacharya, ‘Regional Economy (1757–1857): Eastern India I’, p. 281. 62. Allen, Eastern Bengal District Gazetteers: Dacca, p. 32. 63. Ibid., p. 40. 64. Ibid. 65. Calendar of Persian Correspondence, vol. II, no. 431. 66. Ibid., no. 1162. 67. Jatindra Mohan Ray, Dhakar Itihas, ed. Kamal Chaudhuri, Kolkata: Dey’s Publishing, 2003, p. 132. 68. Calendar of Persian Correspondence, vol. III, no. 753. 69. Letter from Cornwallis to Court dated 1 November 1788, Fort William, vol. X, ed. Singh, para. 23. 70. Aniruddha, Towns and Cities of Medieval India, p. 489. 71. Charles E. Trevelyan, Report upon the Inland Customs and Town Duties of the Bengal Presidency, Calcutta, 1835, p. 3. 72. James Taylor, Kompany Amaley Dhaka. Bengali, tr. Mohammad Asaduzzaman, Dhaka, 1978, p. 170. 73. Ibid., p. 171. 74. Allen, Eastern Bengal District Gazetteers: Dacca, p. 58. 75. Beverley, Report on the Census of Bengal, 1872, p. 107. 76. Sinha, Economic History of Bengal, vol. III, p. 8. 77. Ibid., p. 10. 78. Ibid., p. 8.



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79. L.S.S. O’Malley, Eastern Bengal District Gazetteers: Chittagong, Calcutta: Bengal Secretariat Press, 1908, p. 36. 80. Ibid., p. 40. 81. Ibid. 82. O’Malley, District Gazetteer: Purnea, p. 100. 83. Beverley, Report on the Census of Bengal, 1872, p. 110. 84. Bharatchandra Ray Gunakar, Annadamangala, ed. Tarun Mukhapadhyay, Kolkata, 2005, pp. 38–9. 85. O’Malley, District Gazetteer: Chittagong, p. 41. 86. Ibid., p. 43. 87. Letter from Court dated 25 January 1782, Fort William, vol. IX, ed. Saletore, para. 121. 88. Separate Letter from Court dated 15 May 1799, Fort William—India House Correspondence, vol. XIII, ed. P.C. Gupta, Delhi: National Archives of India, 1959, para. 17. 89. Calendar of Persian Correspondence, vol. IV, Calcutta: Government of India, Central Publication Branch, 1925, no. 262. 90. Calendar of Persian Correspondence, vol. V, Calcutta: Government of India, Central Publication Branch, 1930, no. 1075.

References European Languages Ahmed, Nizamuddin, Tabaqat-I Akbari, ed. B. De, 2 vols., Calcutta: The Asiatic Society, 1926. Ahmed, Qeyamuddin, ed., Corpus of Arabic and Persian Inscriptions (ah 640– 1200), Patna: K.P. Jayaswal Research Institute, 1973. ———,  ed., Patna Through the Ages: Glimpses of History, Society and Economy, Patna: Commonwealth Publishers, 1988. Ahmed, Shamshuddin, Inscriptions of Bengal, vol. 5, Rajshahi: Varendra Research Museum, 1960. Al-Badauni, Abdul Qadir, Muntakhab-ut-Tawarikh, ed. W.H. Lowe, Patna: Academica Asiatica, 1973. Ali, S. Abid, Memoirs of Gaur and Pandua, repr., Calcutta: Department of Archaeology, Government of Bengal, 1986. Ali, M. Athar, Mughal Nobility under Aurangzeb, Bombay: Asia Publishing House, 1966. Ali, M. Arthar, ‘Towards an Interpretation of the Mughal Empire’, in Mughal India: Studies in Polity, Ideas, Society, and Culture, with a Preface by Irfan Habib, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2006. Arasaratnam, S., Maritime India in the Seventeenth Century, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1994.

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Bandopadhaye, Rakhal Das, ‘Saptagram or Satgaon’, Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, vol. 5, pt. 1, no. 7, pp. 245–58. Barros, Joao de, The Asia, tr. H. Stevens, London, 1695. Beglar, W.A. and Z.A. Desai, ed., The Shah Jamannama of Enayet Khan, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1990. Bernier, Francois, Travels in the Mogul Empire, ed. A. Constable, 1916; repr., Delhi: S. Chand, 1972. Babar, Babarnamah, tr. A.S. Beveridge, 2 vols., Delhi: Oriental Books, 1979. Beveridge, H., The District of Bakarganj, London: Trübner & Co., 1876. Beveridge, H., tr. and ed., The Tuzuk-i-Jahangiri, repr., Delhi, 1978. Bhattasali, N.K., ‘The English Factory at Dacca’, Bengal Past and Present, vol. XXXIII, 1927, pp. 25–33. ———,  ‘Some facts about Old Dacca’, Bengal Past and Present, vol. LI, 1936, pp. 48–57. ———,  ‘An enquiry into the origin of Dacca’, Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, no. 3, 1959. Blanc, Vincent Le, Les Voyages Fameux, Paris, 1848 (French). Blochman, H., Contribution to the Geography and History of Bengal, repr., Calcutta: The Asiatic Society of Bengal, 1968. Bowrey, Thomas, A Geographical Account of the Countries Round the Bay of Bengal, 1669–1679, ed. R.C. Temple, 1993; repr., Delhi: Asian Education Services, 1997. Bradley-Birt, F.B., The Romance of an Eastern Capital, 1906; repr., Delhi: Metropolitan Book Co., 1975. Campos, J.J.A., History of the Portuguese in Bengal, 1919; repr., Patna: Janaki Prakashan, 1979. Chakraborty, M.M., ‘Note on Gaur and other places in Bengal’, Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, vol. V, pt. V, 1909, pp. 199 ff. Chandra, Satish, ‘Some aspects of urbanization in medieval India’, in The City in Indian history, ed. Indu Banga, Delhi: Manohar, 1991. Chatterjee, Ratnabali, ‘The Perception of the City in Medieval Bengal Literature’, in Proceedings of the Indian History Congress, vol. 53, 1992, pp. 187–93. Chattopadhya, B.D., ‘Urban centers in early Bengal: archaeological perspective’, Pratna-Samiksha, vols. 2–3, Department of Archaeology, Government of West Bengal, 1993–4, pp. 169–92. Choudhury, Sushil, ‘The Rise and Decline of Hughli’, Bengal Past and Present, vol. XXX, pt. 1, no. 161, January–June 1967, pp. 33–67. Cortesao, Arnand, tr. and ed., Suma Oriental of Tome Pires and the Book of Rodrigues, 2 vols., Delhi and Madras: Asian Educational Services, 1990. Crawford, D.G., ‘Satgaon or Tribeni’, Bengal Past and Present, vol. III, 1908, pp. 18–26. Creighton, Henry, The Ruins of Gaur, London: Black, Parbury and Allen, 1817.



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Cunningham, Alexander, Archaeological Report: A Tour of Bengal and Bihar in 1879–80, repr., Delhi: Archaeological Survey of India, 2000. Dames, M.L., ed., The Book of Duarte Barbosa, 2 vols., repr., Delhi and Madras: Asian Educational Service, 1989. Dani, A.K., Dacca, Dacca: Asiatic Society of Pakistan, 1962. Deloche, Jean, ed., Voyage en Inde du Cont de Modave, 1773–76, Paris: Ecole Française d’Extrême-Orient, 1971. Deloche, Jean et al., Voyage en Inde, 1754–1762, Paris: Ecole Française d’ExtrêmeOrient, 1997. Dey, Sambhu Charan, ‘Hughli Past and Present’, Calcutta Review, vol. 95, July 1892, pp. 258–66. Dobb, Maurice, Studies in the Development of Capitalism, London: George Routledge, 1946. Downtown, Nicholas, The Voyage to the East Indies, 1614–15, ed. W. Foster, repr., Delhi, 1997. Du Jarric, Pierre, Histoire des Memorables Advennues des Indes Orientales, 1608–1614, 4 vols., Bordeaux, 1818–1821 (French). Fazl, Abul, Akbar Nama, 3 vols., tr. H. Beveridge, 1939; repr., Calcutta: Asiatic Society, 1995. ———,  The Ain-i-Akbari, vol. 1, tr. H. Blochmann, ed. D.C. Phillott, Calcutta: Royal Asiatic Society of Bengal, 1873. ———,  The Ain-i-Akbari, vol. 2, tr. H.S. Jarrett, annotated by Jadunath Sarkar, 2nd edn., Calcutta: Asiatic Society, 1927. ———,  The Ain-i-Akbari, vol. 3, tr. H.S. Jarrett, annotated by Jadunath Sarkar, 2nd edn., Calcutta: Asiatic Society, 1927. Firmingar, W.K., Historical Portion of the Fifth Report, Indian Studies Past and Present, Calcutta, 1962, Appendix. Foster, William, ed., Early Travels in India, 1583–1619, 1921; repr., Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal, 1985. Garrett, J.H.E., Bengal District Gazetteers: Nadia, 1910; repr., Calcutta: West Bengal Government, 2001. Gibb, H.A.R., tr. and ed., Ibn Battuta: Travels in Asia and Africa, 1325–1354, 1929; repr., Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal, 1986. Graaf, Nicholas de, Voyages Aux Indes Orientales, 1639–1681, Amsterdam, 1689. Grewal, J.S., ‘Historical Writings on the Urbanization of Medieval India’, in The City in Indian History, ed. Indu Banga, Delhi: Manohar, 1991, pp. 69–80. Habib, Irfan, An Atlas of the Mughal Empire, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1982. ———,  The Agrarian System in Mughal India, 1556–1707, 2nd revd edn., New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1999. ———,  The Economic History of Medieval India: A Survey, New Delhi: Tulika, 2001.

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Hambly, G.R.G., ‘Towns and Cities: Mughal India’, in The Cambridge Economic History of India, vol. 1, ed. Tapan Raychaudhuri and Irfan Habib, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984, pp. 434–51. Hamilton, Alexander, An Account of the East Indies, 1688–1723, 2 vols., repr., Delhi and Madras: Asian Educational Services, 1995. Harouel, Jean Louis, Histoire De L’ Urbanism, 2nd edn., Paris, 1981 (French). Hourani, A.H. and S.M. Stern, The Islamic City, Oxford: Brune Cassier and Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1970. Hedges, William, The Diary, 1681–1687, 3 vols., ed. Henry Yule, London, 1687. Hosten, Rev. H, ‘Jesuit Letters from Bengal, Arakan and Burma, 1599–1600’, Bengal Past and Present, vol. XXX, 1925, pp. 52–96. ———,  ‘A week in Bandel Convent, Hughli’, Bengal Past and Present, vol. X, pt. 1, no. 1, January–March 1915, pp. 26–120. Hoyland, J.S. and S.N. Bannerjee, trs. and eds., The Commentaries of Father Monserrate, 1922, Delhi and Madras: Asian Educational Service, 2003. Jaidpuri, Gulam Husain Salim, Riyazu-s Salatin, tr. and ed. Abdus Salam, repr., Delhi, 1975. Jhosson, H., La Mission de Bengale Occidentale, Bruges: St. Catherine Press, 1921 (French). Karim, Abdul, Dacca the Mughal Capital, Dhaka: Asiatic Society of Pakistan, 1964. ———,  Murshid Quli Khan and His Times, Dhaka: Asiatic Society of Pakistan, 1962. Khan, Iqtidar Alam, ‘The Karwarsaray of Mughal India: A Study of Surviving Structures’, Indian Historical Structure, vol. 14, no. 1–2, 1990. Lapidus, E.M., Muslim Cities in the later Middle Ages, repr., Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984. Les De L’Estra, Relation ou Journal d’un voyage nouvellement fait aux Indes Orientales, Paris, 1677 (French). Linschoten, J.H.V., The Voyage of J.H.V Linschoten to the East Indies, 2 vols., Delhi and Madras, 1988. Little, J.H., House of Jagat Seth, Calcutta: Calcutta Historical Society, 1967. Luillier, Sieur, Voyage aux Grandes Indes, repr., Amsterdam, 1727. Manrique, F.S., The Travels of Fray Sebastian Manrique, 2 vols., tr. and ed. C.E. Luard, Oxford, 1877. Manucci, Nicolai, Stora de Mogor, 4 vols., tr. and ed. W. Irvine, repr., Delhi, 1981. Master, Streysham, The Diaries, 1675–1680, 2 vols., ed. R.C. Temple, London, 1912. Mishra, S.C., ‘Urban History of India, Possibilities and Perspectives’, in The City in Indian History, ed. Indu Banga, Delhi: Manohar, 1991, pp. 1–8. Mitra, Pranab K., Port Towns in Medieval India, 1605–1707, Calcutta: PunthiPustak, 1985.



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Moosvi, Shireen, The Economy of the Mughal Empire, c.1595, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, Delhi, 1987. Moosvi, Shireen, ‘Urban Population in Pre-Colonial India’, in Society and Ideology in India: Essays in Honour of Prof. R.S. Sharma, ed. D.N. Jha, Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal, 1996, pp. 291–302. Moreland, W.H., India at the Death of Akbar: An Economic Study, London: Macmillan, 1920. Mohsin, K.M., A Bengal District in Transition: Murshidabad, 1763–1793, Dhaka: Asiatic Society of Bangladesh, 1973. Naqvi, H.K., Urbanization and Urban Centers under the Great Mughals, Shimla: Indian Institute of Advanced Study, 1971. Nathan, Mirza, Baharistan-i-Ghayebi, 3 vols., tr. M.I. Borah, Government of Assam, Guwahati, 1936. Neville, H., ‘Mint Towns of Bengal’, Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, n.s., vol. XVII, 1921, pp. 116–30. O’Malley, L.S.S., Bengal District Gazetteers: Murshidabad, 1914; repr., Calcutta: Government of West Bengal, 1997. ———,  Bengal District Gazetteer: Hooghly, Calcutta: Government of West Bengal, 1912. Pearson, M.N., The Portuguese in India, Hyderabad: Orient Longman, 1990. Pemble, John, ed., Miss Fane in India, repr., London: Headline, 1989. Pirenne, Henri, Les Ville et les Institution Urbaine, 2 vols., Brussels: Nouvelle Societé d’Éditions, 1939 (French). Prakash, Om, The Dutch East India Company and the Economy of Bengal, 1630–1720, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1985. Purchas, Voyages, vol. 6, Edinburgh, 1885. Qanungo, S.B., A History of Chittagong, vol. 1, Chittagong: Dipankar Qanungo, 1988. Ramchandra, R., Urbanization and Urban System in India, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1992. Ray, Aniruddha, ‘Address of the Sectional President: Urbanisation in Medieval Bengal, c. AD. 1200 to c. AD. 1600’, Proceedings of the Indian History Congress, vol. 53, 1992, pp. 135–80. ———,  Adventurers, Landowners and Rebels, Bengal, c.1575–c.1715, Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal, 1998. ———,  ‘The city of Hughli from late 16th to early 18th century’, Modern Historical Studies, vol. 7, Calcutta: Rabindra Bharati University, March 2010–11, pp. 1–28. ———,  ‘General President’s Address: An Approach to the Study of Morphology of Selected Towns and Cities of Medieval Bengal, C.1500–1727’, Proceedings of the Indian History Congress, vol. 71, 2010–11, pp. 1–27. ———,  Towns and Cities of Medieval India, Delhi: Routledge, 2015.

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Ray, Indrani, ‘Journey to Cassimbazar and Murshidabad of a French visitor to Bengal in 1743’, in The French East India company and the Trade of the Indian Ocean: A collection of Essays by Indrani Ray, ed. L.S. Subramanium, Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal, 1999, pp. 144–76. Rennell, James, Memoir of a Map of Hindustan, repr., Calcutta, 1976. Roychoudhury, Tapan, Bengal under Akbar and Jahangir, 2nd edn., Delhi, 1966. Sarkar, Jadunath, ed., History of Bengal, vol. II, 2nd edn., Dhaka: Dacca University, 1971. ———,  Study in Aurangzeb’s Reign, 3rd edn., Calcutta, 1989. Schoutten, Gautier, Voiage aux Indes Orientales, 2 vols., translated from Dutch, Amsterdam: Aux dépens d’Estienne Roger Marchard, 1707. Sen, Surendranath, Indian Travels of Thevenot and Careri, Delhi: National Archives of India, 1949. Sharma, Ram Sharan, Urban Decay in India, Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal, 1987. Sircar, D.C., Studies in the Geography of Ancient and Medieval India, Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1971. Sjoberg, G., The Preindustrial City: Past and Present, Glencoe: Free Press, 1960. Smith, R.B., The First Age of the Portuguese Embassies, Navigations and Peregrinations to the Ancient Kingdoms of Cambay and Bengal, 1500–1521, Bethesda: Decateur Press, 1969. Sousa, Faria Y., Asia Portuguesa, 3 vols, tr. J. Stevens, London, 1695. Tarafdar, M.R., Husain Shahi Bengal, 1494–1538, Dhaka: Asiatic Society of Pakistan, 1965. ———,  ‘Trade and Society in Early Medieval Bengal’, Indian Historical Review, volume IV, 1977, pp. 274–86. Tavernier, Jean-Baptist, Travels in India, 2 vols, ed. W. Crooke, repr., Delhi, 1977. Thakur, Vijay Kumar, ed., Towns in Pre-Modern India, Patna: Janaki Prakashan, 1994. Tieffenthaeler, Joseph, Geographie de L’Indoustan (translated from German to French), Berlin, 1784. Varthema, Ludvico, The Itinerary, tr. J.W. Jones, Delhi and Madras: Asian Educational Services, 1997. Weber, Max, The City, New York: Free Press, 1958. Wheeler, J.T., ed., Early Travels in India, repr., Delhi: Deep, 1974. Wilson, C.R., ‘Note on the Topography of River in the 16th century from Hughli to the Sea as Presented in Da Asia of J.D. Barros’, Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, no. 1, 1892. ———,  The Early Annals of the English in Bengal, 2 vols., 1895; repr., Calcutta: The Asiatic Society of Bengal, 1996. Wink, Andre, Al-Hind, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1990.



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Bengali Language Bandopadhaye, Rakhal Das, ‘Saptagram’, in Collection of Articles of Rakhal Das, Calcutta, 2010, pp. 384–410. Barani, Ziauddin, Tawarikh-i-Feroze Shahi, Dhaka, 1982. Bhattacharyya, Narendranath, Hugli Jelar Purakriti, Calcutta: Government of West Bengal, 1993. Chakrabarty, Mukundaram, Chandi Mangal, Calcutta: Calcutta University 1974. Das, Haricharan, Adwait Mangal, Burdwan: Burdwan University, bs 1375. Das, Vrindaban, Chaitanya Bhagavat, Nabadwip, 479 Gourabdo, reprint. Feristah, Md. Qasim Hindoo Shah, History of Muslim Conquest in India, (translated from Bengali), 1977. Jayananda, Chaitanya Mangal, Calcutta: The Asiatic Society, 1971. Karim, Abdul, Bangalar Itihas: Sultani Amal, 2nd edn., Dhaka: Chittagong University, 1987. Kabiraj, Krishnadas, Sri Chaitanya Charitamrito, ed. Basumati, 9th edn., bs 1387. Khan, S.M. Reza Ali, Murshidabad O Banglar Nazim, Calcutta: Punthipatra, 2008. Mitra, Sudhir Kumar, Hooghli Jelar Itihas O Bangasamaj, repr., Calcutta: Mandal Book House, 1991. Piplai, Vipradas, Manasa Vijay, Calcutta: The Asiatic Society, n.d. Ray, Aniruddha, Madhyajuger Bharatiya Shahor, 2nd edn., Calcutta, 2007. Ray, Bharat Chandra, Vidyasundar, (in collection of Bharat Chandra Ray), ed. Basumati, Calcutta, 1929. Ray, Niharranjan, Bangalir Itihas: Adi parba, 1949; repr., Calcutta: Dey’s Publishing, 1993. Ray, Nikhilnath, Murshidabad Kahini, revd edn., Calcutta: Punthipatra, 1999. Sanyal, Manaswita, ‘Saptagram, 1300–1632’, Aitihashik, vol. IV, Calcutta, 1977, pp. 11–26. Sarkar, Jadunath, ‘Akham-i-Alamgiri’, in Itihas, Calcutta, bs 1358. Sarkar, Jagadish Narayan, ‘Hindu Muslim Relation in Bengal, Medieval period’, in Bangiya Sahitya Parishad Patrika, repr., Calcutta, bs 1398.

4 The Making of a Maritime Economy Bengal, 1600–1800 Rila Mukherjee

T

Introduction

he study in this essay will move seamlessly over a region that is referenced as ‘Bengal’, but one must remember that the eighteenth-century Bengal was much larger in extent than the present state in India carrying the same name. Eighteenth-century Bengal straddled the two nation-states of India and Bangladesh, comprising present West Bengal, containing for a time parts of present Bihar and Orissa, and encompassing the whole of what is now Bangladesh. Despite its long coastline, Bengal is not a sea-facing province. It has instead a large coastal zone fragmented by the giant estuaries of the rivers Ganga and Meghna-Brahmaputra (now called the GBM basin) and displayed more the characteristics of a littoral economy that was centred on rivers and landing stages called ghats. The lower riparian zone is bisected by two deltas with widely varying cultural and commercial experiences: a western delta centred on Sagor Island south of Kolkata and a south-eastern delta centred on Dhaka. The deltas make for a broken coastline with no deepwater ports. Only Chittagong had a deep harbour but it became part of the province only after the Mughal conquest in 1666. Sixteenth-century rule over Chittagong oscillated between sultani Bengal, the Tripura polity and the autonomous kingdom of Arakan now in Myanmar;



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seventeenth-century Chittagong became independent or was under Arakan’s control. Being rarely under Bengal’s rule, its absence meant the Bengal coast lacked naturally deep harbours to accommodate large, seaworthy vessels. Boats found or depicted from the Bengal coast were mainly river craft, indicating fewer maritime sailings as compared to other coasts.1 They were mainly of the jaliya, piara, kusa, balia, ghurab and patella types, some of them war boats and the last a cargo boat—widebottomed and suitable for carrying heavy loads on the fast-flowing rivers of the delta. Harbours were essentially anchorage points on rivers, and so ports rose inland; along the river banks. The Calcutta port established by the British in 1690 is situated on the Hooghly River and not on the open sea, and it is located even farther inland now due to river siltation. Fluvial and sea-facing harbours, anchorages and ports did not have vernacular equivalents, being designated solely as bandar. The terms paar and paarapar in Bengali reference crossings between two shores, suggesting sea crossings were rare in popular perception. Due to this geographical quirk, Bengal should be rightfully regarded as a littoral or even a marine region rather than a maritime province. Although open sea-facing ports did not appear until the British created the port towns of Calcutta, Bombay and Madras, this fact did not hamper overseas trade from Bengal. The province’s large riverine network nourished oceanic trade. The chief eighteenth-century ports under the Bengal nawabs were four in number: Hooghly, the original Mughal port, under the Baksh Bandar; Dhaka under a Shah Bandar; Murshidabad, the nawabi port, under the Pachotra Bandar; and Patna under the Budrekha Bandar. All four were river-ports connecting distant hinterlands, conveying commodities to inland markets and onward to ports-of-trade from where they were dispatched to distant shores. Therefore, this essay study will reference both riverine and oceanic circuits while referencing overseas trade from Bengal. Again, because our received history privileges Bengal as a maritime province, we tend to ignore the fact that it is actually divided into two sectors: the already mentioned lower riparian zone, a large part of which is in Bangladesh, and a grassy upland sector lying largely within India. This upland sector housed a third circuit of foreign trade—the overland route. K.N. Chaudhuri wrote: ‘Just as

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the monsoon winds obeyed a global climatic law  .  .  .  so the sea lanes of the Indian Ocean were supplemented all through history by the northern caravan routes with sturdy two-humped camels, horses and mules as transport.’2 This essay will reference three circuits of trade in eighteenthcentury Bengal: riverine, oceanic and overland, and emphasize that it is not always easy to distinguish between the three since they were intimately braided, feeding into each other.

The Eighteenth-Century Debate and Bengal Our received history of the eighteenth century centres around three aspects: disintegration of Mughal power, rise of new state forms, and capture of oceanic trade by Europeans. All three are particularly apposite for Bengal, but there was the addition of a fourth factor— the capture of political power by the English Company from 1757 onward. The interplay of the four factors makes Bengal the laboratory for debates on the nature of the eighteenth-century changes in South Asia. With the decline of Mughal power, a breakaway nawabi polity had appeared in Bengal around 1707 and was formalized in 1717; the first such since the Awadh and Hyderabad riyasats appeared only in 1722 and 1724. The imperial break was finalized in 1740 when the dispatch of revenue from Bengal to Delhi ceased for good. It was here that European companies concentrated their operations in the eighteenth century. The reasons for their eastward shift were many. The decline of Surat, the premier port of the west coast following the destabilization of the major maritime routes toward Africa, the Red Sea and the Persian Gulf; a destabilization that was itself consequent on the waning of the Portuguese maritime empire by the middle of the seventeenth century, is one reason that comes readily to mind. To this maritime disintegration one can add the terrestrial fragmentation of peninsular India: the decay of Bijapur between 1672 and 1686 set within the larger Mughal campaigns into the Deccan which unsettled the political economy of the western coast of India. The decline of Portuguese Goa created yet another vacuum that the European companies sought to fill. But the rise of



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the Marathas in response to the fragmentation of the peninsula with the resultant political uncertainty and the subsequent emergence of small unstable polities, made commercial functioning on the west coast and in peninsular India unattractive. So the companies moved to Bengal. Here they would be menaced by Maratha and magh raids from west and east, but in the early-eighteenth-century commercial possibilities from Bengal were deemed by European companies and private traders as more favourable compared to other coastal regions. There was an unparalleled diversity of trade goods, a low cost of living, a weak merchant class and cheap commodity prices; and despite its unhealthy climate and humidity Bengal was seen as a ‘hell full of abundance’.3 This was the template against which historians framed their arguments about overseas trade.

Critique of Received History An examination of European sources of the period is instructive for it reveals the shortcomings of this received history. Despite an abundance of literature on European activities, eighteenth-century records are curiously reticent about Asian merchants. S. Arasaratnam argued: The eighteenth century is not yet a favored period of study from the point of view of trade in the Indian Ocean. With a few significant exceptions, historians are more prone to be concerned with the actions of Europeans, and indeed the transition to empire makes that by far the most appealing subject of inquiry. Consequently, it is not yet possible to chart in totality the course of Indian Ocean trade after the growth period comes to a halt.4

A Foreign Trade Perspective of an Export-led Growth The oceanic dimension has been over-emphasized, obscuring other trading portals. Sanjay Subrahmanyam and C.A. Bayly noted that European sources have been used with two ends in view: first, of highlighting the place of external trade in the economic changes of the period, and second, of showing that economic expansion was closely related to the growth of artisanal activity, in particular textile production. Both these points are useful ones, but can—if overly

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stressed—produce a somewhat distorted view of the economy in which growth seems to be ‘export-led’, and based on burgeoning manufacture in the midst of agricultural stasis.5

Agricultural Growth But agricultural production, in particular cash crops such as opium, beeswax, sugar, saltpetre, salt and tobacco, burgeoned from the late seventeenth century. Rice transformed from a staple to an export commodity, although local rulers intervened to limit the amounts of rice and sugar leaving the province on ocean-going vessels in an attempt to stop these staples from entering the export trade.6 But abuses continued; the French vessel St. Joseph was found in 1731 to be carrying 1,200 sacks of rice, 68 sacks of sugar and other items fraudulently put on board. When discovered and confiscated by the Hooghly port officials, La Riviere, the captain, fled into British territory.7 The subsequent export of rice, and the Company forcing up the price of grain in internal circulation to unprecedentedly high levels, resulted in the Bengal famine of 1769–70; yet Reza Khan’s request for a general ban on British trade in rice was refused by the Calcutta Council.8 The Bengal nawabs experimented with a portfolio of cash crops around the middle of the eighteenth century when it became clear that increasing mulberry production was feeding into a textile trade that was by then almost completely controlled by the English Company. There was a shift in emphasis to saltpetre, then to opium and finally to salt production through the practice of royal monopolies.9 Also, the special position of the English company, and by association that of private English merchants vis-à-vis suppliers and producers of goods in regions such as Bengal significantly increased the margin of profit from private trade. This was reflected in a sharp increase in the volume of trade in high-value commodities such as Bengal opium which together with Bombay cotton provided the basis of the enormous increase in the trade with China after 1770. An approximate idea of the orders of magnitude involved in the growth of the China trade could perhaps be formed by referencing the fact that between 1774–82 and 1785–6, the imports by the English country ships at Canton had doubled. By 1797–8, these had nearly trebled again.10



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It is evident that this foreign trade perspective and the export-led growth approach marginalizes other commodity circulations from Bengal and distorts our view of late-seventeenth- and eighteenthcentury economic and commercial developments in the province. There were also other biases.

An Overdue Emphasis on the Textile Trade Since the European companies invested mainly in silks and cottons for the India-Europe trade, their factory records contain a plethora of data on the textile trade and neglect all others. This trade was centred on the mulberry-producing groves around Radhanagar near Hooghly and Kasimbazar located further up, both centres producing cottons, raw silk and a mix of silk and cotton products, the last called ‘silk piece goods’. The trade at Kasimbazar was firmly linked to the north Indian market. Records, certainly more voluminous for the trade from the western delta, note that the price of Kasimbazar silk was dependent on the Agra market and the exchange rate of money from Kasimbazar to Patna and Agra rose and fell as the silk found a market in these two places.11

A Westward Bias in Historiography Data on the eighteenth century where commerce was seen as dependent on company trade therefore also reflected the spatial preferences of the European companies. It is already noted that when the eighteenth-century debate referenced European control of foreign trade from Bengal it focused on the textile trade through oceanic routes from the western delta. Europeans had settled along the Bhagirathi tract along the western delta in the seventeenth century, away from the then Mughal capital at Dhaka. Factory records naturally focused more on their commercial experiences in the western delta; this essay shows they penetrated into the southeast only around the middle of the eighteenth century. It is for these reasons this essay argues that our received history on eighteenth-century trade concentrates too much on the western delta. It highlights oceanic trade and neglects internal circulations. It marginalizes agricultural production. Within the commercial domain

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it downplays the cotton trade and focuses only on silk, highlighting its links with the north Indian market.

Corrective: The Southeastern Delta If the focus of this essay is shifted to the eastern part of the province, the aforementioned picture undergoes certain modifications. Rice production increased in this active delta, becoming the chief crop there and salt production became an important source of revenue. Opium and saltpetre were not found there. It was an important textile producing centre, but these were cotton-based and not silk. Moreover, their marketing was not linked to any north Indian market as such. Fine muslins were produced around Sonargaon and Dhaka, followed by the baftas produced in Jugdia where the French had a factory at mid-century, and at Kalindi and Lakhipur, where the English company set up establishments. While muslin was always an item in huge demand in both Asia and Europe, the demand for the baftas rose only in the 1740s after the Surat famine of 1630 destabilized bafta production there and a large portion of the production had subsequently shifted to Burhanpur.12 Although the trade of the western delta had passed almost completely into European hands by the middle of the eighteenth century, trade statistics from the southeastern region reveal a great deal of the commerce in textiles still conducted by Asian merchants until the century’s end. Moreover, a large portion of the trade went through Asian land portals and not by sea.13 What accounted for this vitality is not clear but it is known that the eighteenth-century European commercial experience in the southeastern delta was different from that in its western counterpart. Being an active delta, rivers in the southeast were numerous and unstable and the topography more fragmented. The only urban centre of any note was the secondary nawabi capital at Dhaka with its muslin karkhana. Most production centres or arangs were located far from metropolitan centres. The advance system of pattan (of an unspecified amount) at Dhaka as opposed to the dadan (amounting to around 85 per cent) of the western delta was dissimilar in nature, being less restrictive for both merchant and weaver.14 Merchants and weavers seem, from the European point of view, less organized than in the western delta, suggesting greater autonomy in their functions.



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Usually, goods were procured through ready-sale at open markets rather than through the advance contracts as had by then become the norm in the western delta. Ready sales were deemed unprofitable for the companies as they pushed up prices. In 1748, the Calcutta Council spent Sicca Rs.352,054 on ready-money goods as opposed to spending Sicca Rs.1,053,756 on dadan, indicating the enormous turnover through the system of advances. The English Company had to bring in large sums of Arcot Rupees to buy ready goods at Jugdia. Since they could not readily change this money at Jugdia, trading was difficult; there was no mint, neither was there a central authority to negotiate with nor a ‘rule of law’ through which European companies could operate.15 Interest rates were higher, being usually 12 per cent for Europeans as against the 9 per cent they had managed to obtain from financiers in the western delta. Did the absence of a central coordinating authority facilitate this commercial dynamism of the southeast? Goods being more difficult to access for Europeans, southeast merchants were indispensable, less susceptible to European company demand and consequently more independent. Ratan Manik, one of the Jugdia dalals, supplied both the English and the French companies in 1750–1, whereas the dadni merchants of the western delta had become tied to specific companies.16 The ‘Dacca Dellols’ obtained a parwana only in 1752 to control the cloth trade at Jugdia.17 Not only were players, commodities and rules of engagement different, the networks generated were equally dissimilar. To understand this difference, I will now reference Bengal’s distinctive topography that cleaved the province into two halves.

Geography as Destiny A distinctiveness of the Bengal coast lies in its funnel-like shape with the wider mouth fronting the coast. It is the only asamudrahimacala (from the mountains to the sea) region in land-locked north India. Numerous rivers connect the eastern Himalayan foothills to the sea and also provide connectivity into Nepal, Tibet and Yunnan. Moreover, even in the present day, there is no sharp sea/river divide or a land/water separation in coastal Bengal, in fact Lieberman argues that South Asia’s jagged coastline and fragmented internal geography sustained a higher level of polycentrism.18

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The Bengal plains can be classified into three groups: the older deltaic and flood plains lying north of the Ganga-Padma-Meghna axis; the younger deltaic and flood plains lying south of the axis; and the erosional flood plains lying west of the Bhagirathi-Hooghly river. River courses indicate that the general slope of each of these groups of plains is in a different direction: southeast, south and east.19 There were four distinct early sub-regions determined largely by the prevalent hydrography: Pundravardhana (initially north Bengal, but subsequently embracing a substantial area of early Bengal); Radha (situated largely to the west of the river Bhagirathi); Vanga (central deltaic Bengal, covering the present Dhaka-Vikrampur-Faridpur area in Bangladesh); and Samatata-Harikela (the southeastern-most part of Bangladesh to the east of the river Meghna, embracing Noakhali, Comilla and Chittagong and also parts of Tripura). Vanga, Samatata and Harikela encompassed the coastal strip of the two Bengal deltas.

The Deltas The deltas have been autonomous throughout history, varying in width from 60 to 80 miles, from the waters of the Bay of Bengal on the south to the limits of the flourishing permanently settled areas on the north where they merge into the eastern Himalayan foothills. They stretch in length for about 170 miles from the brackish waters of the wide Hooghly estuary on the west to the sweet waters of the even wider Meghna estuary on the east. The extreme east of the southeastern delta segues into Arakan, so deltaic Bengal can be regarded as the maritime frontier that stretched on to the Burma coast. There are two kinds of rivers here: wide tidal rivers run north– south, while narrow tidal rivers and creeks run west–east. The two kinds of currents produce a strong double or undercurrent, which is highly dangerous for swimmers and navigation. The deltas differ in significant ways, such as in height of the tide and rainfall. In the southeastern delta, the tide rises to over 80 feet, while in the western delta it barely exceeds 23 feet. The rainfall also varies considerably; it is said to be as much as from 200 to 300 inches in the former, and only 82.29 inches in the latter.20 These features make the low southeastern delta an active and productive delta with high rice



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yields, while the higher western delta became geologically moribund by the eighteenth century. The deltas created a complex ecological frontier between the high heartland and the low-lying littoral, which was overlaid by haors and bils (lakes and ponds) in what is now Bangladesh. These waterbodies and swamps still mark the area, but were larger then and presented the appearance of an ‘eastern sea’—actually very wide rivers that connected to the Bay of Bengal—situated to the north of the region. Travel by boat was the principal means of transport in this marine region. Charles Stewart noted: ‘The eastern parts of Bengal are intersected with rivers and creeks, navigable at all seasons of the year  .  .  .  the mode of travelling is by water; on which account the governors of Bengal have always kept up a large establishment of boats  .  .  .’. 21 James Rennell wrote that this remarkable inland navigation system gave employment to over 30,000 boatmen and carried on a brisk trade in staples such as rice, salt and fish.22 The deltas were connected to the uplands through the rivers. Although seen to be lying in Monsoon Asia, coastal Bengal is linked to the arid frontier through upper Bengal on its west and Bagan in Burma on its northeast. Bagan was reached through the dissected plateaux and hills of the northeast. This linkage with the arid frontier is seen from Fra Mauro’s World Map of 1450 which spoke of the unit of ‘Bengala-Machin’ wherein Bengal, Upper Burma (Bagan and subsequently Ava) and Laos were seen as one, thereby extending the maritime frontier into the continental Southeast Asian sphere.23 In the 1580s, Ralph Fitch endorsed this connectivity, seeing the Koch kingdom in northeastern India as contiguous to ‘Cauchin China’ because of its links with mainland Southeast Asia through the overland silk route.24 This was a route through which pilgrims and commodities had travelled between India and China and one that was still in existence in the eighteenth century.

Frontiers Early Islamic Bengal saw a coastal Bangalah (southeastern delta) opposed to a more elevated Gaur (western delta). Within Bangalah, there was a further sub-section called bhati comprising the low lands between the Bhagirathi and Meghna rivers; this stood in opposition

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to the higher western delta.25 Its wide rivers were seen as seas, the name of Mughal Subahdar Islam Khan’s boat was ‘Fath-i- Dariya’ (Triumph of the Sea).26 For Jos Gommans, Bengal was the political frontier between Arid and Monsoon Asia because it was ruled from upland Gaur/Lakhnauti where Arid Asia ended while its most robust mercantile part lay in the southeastern delta, the beginning of Monsoon Asia. The dividing line lay in the dense forests and marshes of the southeastern delta. This was the outer political frontier, the division between Arid and Monsoon Asia.27 The arid frontier wherein upper or northern Bengal was situated stretched downward and eastwards from north Bihar. The region functioned as a subsidiary hub on the silk route that started from China, therefore land routes in this frontier region are significant, for they connected downward to the port towns as well through river channels. The routes were collectively called the caravan route because they fed into the traditional caravan trades between China, Burma, South Asia and points west. From Patna, one such route went into Central Asia. This trade was especially important in the seventeenth-eighteenth century for the Mughals, for it was the cultural, commercial and diplomatic channel through which the Mughal elite maintained links with their Central Asian homeland.28 Although a portion of the caravan trade to Persia was diverted by European navigation by the end of the seventeenth century, Niels Steensgaard argued the importance of the Qandahar route in the trade between South Asia and Persia at this time has been underestimated. A Dutch report of 1634 noted 211,000 pieces of Indian cotton textiles were sent overland to Iran while 383,000 pieces were sent by the sea route.29 These were mostly cottons from the Punjab region, but Bengal silk was also sent on this route. Merchant groups called ‘Cashmeerians, Multanys, Patans, Sheiks, Sunniasys, Paggayahs, Betteeas and many others used to resort to Bengal in Caffeelas or large parties of many thousand together with troops of oxen for the transport of goods.’30 This pan-South Asian overland trade connected via Agra, Lahore and Multan to the great caravan routes of Central and West Asia in which even great financial houses such as that of the Jagat Seths participated.31 But our fascination with the ocean and undue preoccupation with the European market has obscured the significance of the continuing trade through Mocha/Bandar Abbas and Gombroon through a combination of land and sea routes.32



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There were thus three habitats in Bengal—the settled agrarian world of the plains, the nomadic grassland world of the arid zone and the more mobile networked world of the coast and the deltas. The frontier(s) displayed the conflicts between these habitats.

The Coast The coast becomes noticeably marginal when we visualize Bengal in terms of its South Asian links. It is missing in the originary narrative of Bengal that centres around two polities, that of Sasanka (c.600–25, if not up to 637) and that of the Pala rulers, especially Dharmapala, Devapala, Mahendrapala and Mahipala I. Sasanka first turned this region into a prominent eastern Indian entity by his hostilities with the rulers Bhaskaravarman of Kamarupa and Harsha of Kanauj, while the Palas are credited with transforming Bengal into an imperial power, a successful claimant of mastery over Kanauj vis-à-vis the Pratiharas and the Rashtrakutas.33 But this is only one part of the story; epigraphs also see the Gaudas (proto-Bengalis, usually conceived of as an upland people) as a coastal people. The Haraha inscription (ce 554) mentioned the Maukhari ruler Ishanavarman of Kanauj defeating the Gaudas who were ‘sheltered by the sea’ (Gau]dān samudr-āśrayā).34 This was corroborated in Prabodhashiva’s undated Gurgi inscription of around eleventh century ce describing the Lord of Gauda as ‘lying in the watery fort of the sea’ (jalanidhi jaladurggam Gauda rajo dhishete). Given such divergent visions, it is clear that geographic and cultural units in Bengal were dynamic and constantly changing, and there may have been a totally different geographic perspective in earlier times whereby other coasts were deemed closer and more familiar, in terms of distance or in terms of circuits. It was coastal ‘Bangalah’ that became ‘Bengal’ in seventeenth-century European records, and the Sanskrit Vangasagara, which was the Sea of Harikela or the Arabic bahr Harkand, became the Gulf and then the Bay of Bengal in European imagination. And at this moment, geography intervened and the coast became even more focal. Eastward fluvial shifts introduced new rivers into this intensely marine landscape: the Bhairab, Mathabhanga, GaraiMadhumati, Arialkhan and the present-day Padma-Meghna system connecting the Hooghly (Bhagirathi) and the Meghna-Brahmaputra channels. In the words of Richard Eaton:

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A decisive moment was reached in the late sixteenth century when the Ganges River linked up with the Padma, as a consequence of which the Ganges’s main discharge flowed directly into the heart of the eastern delta. By momentous coincidence, this happened about the time that Akbar launched efforts to incorporate the entire delta into the Mughal Empire, thereby ending Bengal’s two and a half centuries of political isolation from North India. As a result, the Ganges carried the Mughal conquerors straight into what had been for the Bengal sultans a distant, forested hinterland.35

Bengal has always been subject to riverine changes, but the fluvial shifts of the sixteenth to eighteenth centuries changed its urban map. The second city of Gaur was shifted to the opposite bank of the Bhagirathi River by the end of the sixteenth century. Tavernier wrote in the 1660s that the port and subsequent capital city of Rajmahal, a significant urban centre in the 1630s, had become a wasteland due to fluvial changes, adding Bernier had to go overland from there to Kasimbazar as the river there had almost dried up. In 1670, John Marshall corroborated the riverine change.36 In the eastern part of the province, the new rivers introduced into the landscape connected the Padma-Meghna system to the Bhagirathi-Hooghly river system and thereby destroyed much of the autonomy of the southeastern delta which in earlier times had carved the province into two distinct zones.

Commercial Possibilities Despite a long coastline, its fragmented nature meant the Bengal coast could not initially offer an intermediate stop on the grand transoceanic routes. Passage into the province involved disembarking from ocean-going vessels and transferring to smaller river-boats, and then changing again into even smaller craft to go upstream. Cesare Federici’s mid sixteenth-century description of Betor in Howrah district in Bengal, a point at the juncture of the new and old channels of the Bhagirathi River housing a temporary bazaar devoted to foreign trade, reveals how fluvial circulations were affected when river siltation impeded the passage of large ships. Trade and consequently capital formation was hampered, for such transfer-ports remained temporary centres. Only small ships went up from Betor to Satgaon and Gaur. People had found an ingenuous solution:



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Every yeere at Buttor they make and unmake a village, with houses and shoppes made of straw  .  .  .  and this village standeth as long as the ships ride there, and till they depart for the Indies, and when they are departed, every man goeth to his plot of houses, and there setteth fire on them  .  .  .  as I passed up to Satagan, I saw this village standing with a great number of people, with an infinite number of ships and Bazars, and at my return coming downe  .  .  .  I was al amazed to see such a place so soon razed and burnt, & nothing left.  .  .  . The small ships go to Satagan, and there they lade. [sic] 37

Also, at the time the Bengal coast was located too far north of the grand sailing routes of the Bay. Nature and climate did not favour it; it was an inhospitable coast, subject to frequent, devastating cyclones and it is still ruled by strong tides and currents creating giant tidal bores. The earliest reference to a cyclone that we have is also from Cesare Federici (other than the descriptions of maritime turmoil, called kalidaha in the Mangal texts of medieval Bengal). In 1569, he was caught in a cyclone or ‘touffon’ and was wrecked off Sandwip island opposite Chittagong on his way back from Pegu. Because Hooghly port had not as yet emerged, Federici was sailing to Chittagong to catch a Portuguese ship bound for Cochin from where he would embark on a ship carrying him back to Lisbon and then Venice: I went a boord of the ship of Bengala, at which time it was the yeere of Touffon: concerning which Touffon you are to understand, that in the East Indies oftentimes, there are not stormes as in other Countries; but every ten or twelve yeeres there are such tempests and stormes, that it is a thing incredible, but to those that have seene it, neither doe they know certainly what yeere they will come. Unfortunate are they that are at Sea in that yeere and time of the Touffon. [sic]38

In 1661, Glanius mentioned yet another cyclone; he was shipwrecked off the Arakan coast which was physically indistinguishable from his original destination—the southeastern Bengal coast. From there he made his way to Bengal and supposedly accompanied Mir Jumla on his Ahom campaign.39 Cyclones, sometimes with accompanying earthquakes and death tolls reported for over 10,000 people, occurred with increasing frequency in 1737, 1787, 1789, and in the nineteenth century in

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1822, 1833, 1839, 1864 and 1876. Similar cyclones were reported down the Coromandel Coast, suggesting the entire South Asian eastern sea board had become increasingly cyclone-prone due to British initiatives of cutting trees and clearing wastelands for their settlements. Dangerous shoals and sandbanks also dotted the Bengal coast, creating insurmountable hazards to navigation. This was documented by the early Europeans in Bengal. By the 1530s, the Portuguese had their own pilots, and the first charts of the Hooghly River were made by them. The Portuguese pilot service does not appear to have been highly organized or to have had any regular status or establishment. Like the Asians who preceded them, the Portuguese pilots appear to have been men whose livelihood did not depend on piloting alone. They were usually officers in the navies of local sultans, or traders, or even slavers, as opportunity arose, piloting Portuguese ships when required, after all there could not have been many ships to handle. It is most improbable that the Portuguese ever employed men solely as pilots. The British created the separate Bengal Pilot Service in 1651, a group of men later known as the ‘Hooghly Pilots’ to steer large ships through the shifting sandbanks once these docked at Calcutta Port. At that time, the Dutch pilots had a practical monopoly of the river navigation of the Hooghly. With the foundation of a factory at Balasore in 1635, and of Fort Gustavus at Chinsurah in 1653, the Dutch Pilot Service expanded. 40 Eighteenth-century French mapmakers marked the waters around the Bengal coast as ‘little known and very dangerous’, for navigation on the Hooghly River remained hazardous.41 Because of these impediments to navigation, and despite the presence of older cultural routes and trade between Bengal and Southeast Asia, Bengal entered Indian Ocean transoceanic routes only from the sixteenth century when the Portuguese appeared with superior sea-going vessels. Even then, the Jorge Reinel map of 1510, known also as the Wolfenbuttel map and showing clearly the Portuguese maritime vision in the Indian Ocean, highlighted only three choke points, i.e. Hurmuz, Cambay and Melaka, and depicted the ports of Goa, Dabhol, the Malabar coast and Ceylon. Ports in Bengal are absent on this map.42 This suggests that they were not part of the larger Indian Ocean maritime avenue frequented by the Portuguese of the period.



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The Bengal ports played an important part in a smaller circulatory zone of mainly coastal passages. This is seen in the route to Sri Lanka described in the Mangal texts. In addition, there was also the traditional Bengal run to Melaka, a trade mainly carried on for cloves against Bengal textiles.43 But the Portuguese arrival introduced new networks. The Cantino Planisphere of 1502 marked Satgaon (Porto Pequeno) and Chittagong (Porto Grando, referenced as Carigaon), as the twin gateways into the northern Bay of Bengal.44 The delta ports situated in-between these two gateways negotiated with Portuguese shipping to participate in the Goa and Hurmuz runs and thus entered the larger maritime routes from the sixteenth century, but ports also faced physical obstacles, such as fortified entry and exit points at sea established by the Portuguese. Although river forts had been visible in early South Asia, these fortified points now became prominent.45 The Portuguese constructed forts at crucial points at river-mouths and manipulated maritime space through the practice of controlling all ingress and egress; the forts ultimately became barriers to circulation.46 Coastlines had to be transcended by paying customs duties and protection costs at fixed points where the might of the Portuguese maritime empire was underscored by the presence of enormous forts for defence that controlled navigation. The Bengal sultans sometimes connived in this exercise; when Sultani Bengal was attacked by the Surid Afghans in 1536 the Husain Shahi monarch made over the customs revenues of Satgaon and Chittagong to the Portuguese in return for military assistance against the Afghans. When Portuguese control intensified, internal circulations were further impeded. Shipping passed largely into their hands, Hughes reported in August 1620 the arrival at Patna of ‘divers frigitts of Portingalls from Sutgonge’.47 But Central Asian (Mogoll) and Pathan (Afghan) merchants continued to bring into Patna goods from Bengal and exported saltpetre of up to 6,000 Bengal maunds of 82 lbs. each, laden on wide-bottomed cargo boats called patellas and sent by the river into Bengal.48 But such coastal and fluvial circuits were now becoming greatly diminished in terms of volume and money.

Ports and Routes Paradoxically, it is at this time of growing Portuguese power on the Bengal coast that new ports, new routes and new networks appeared

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in Bengal: travel networks, commodity networks, slave-raiding networks and slave-trading networks. Once Bengal was incorporated into the Mughal Empire in 1574, westward links were emphasized and silver from the New World ended up fueling the eastward push of Bengal’s economic frontier.49 The delta ports became more significant at this time.50 The medieval Mangal texts had already shown ports in Bengal evolving from sporadic anchorage points into ports-of-call in local and inter-regional trading around the fifteenth century. Their hazy geography, usually describing trading voyages to Sri Lanka, reveal a vessel’s passage to sea through creeks and small rivers that have no name and which have never found a place on maps. The first sea facing port-of-call mentioned in these texts was Kanakpatan (modern Kavali in Andhra Pradesh in Nellore district), because before that only transient port-towns such as Betor and market-towns such as Triveni, also doubling as port, were mentioned. The presence of numerous creeks and inlets meant there was not one maritime route but several, and one cannot determine with certainty any one particular maritime route. A Manasa Panchali charted Chand Saudagar’s (Chand the Merchant) route from the Chittagong region through various anchorage points along creeks that ultimately accessed the open sea. He passed ghats constructed by local rulers along rivers; tolls were levied at these points for landing and loading goods. The landing places evolved in course of time into rudimentary entrepôts. Once Chand left behind the known rivers of the delta, the Bay—called by him the Ocean of Milk—became fuzzy; he crossed seas of ‘prawn’, ‘lobster’, ‘crab’, ‘snakes’, ‘alligators’, ‘kauris’ and ‘conches’.These denoted the characteristics of the various coasts. Each ‘sea’ had its own character, wind and colour, and the marine attributes aided his navigation.51 Centuries later, navigational patterns remained the same. James Rennell wrote on sailing around Dhaka in January 1765: January 1st. 1765, at 3 p.m. arrived at Backergunge (Bakla—author), which lies on a very small Creek about 14 miles below the four Creeks. It lies in Latitude 22°–36´  .  .  .  North, about 16 miles from the Great Ganges, 74 from Dacca & 116 from Calcutta. The Inhabitants report that the Sea is about 20 miles to the SSE.52



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A more detailed description comes from Robert Lindsay on his way to Dhaka from Calcutta in September 1772: I left Calcutta on my way to Dacca by water; we embarked at Balaghaut on the salt-water lake three miles to the eastward, and in a few hours found ourselves in the Sunderbunds, completely secluded from the world in a wilderness of wood and water. This navigation is part of the Delta of the Ganges, extending more than 200 miles along the coast, through thick forests, inhabited only by tigers, alligators, and wild animals peculiar to a tropical climate; the human population is very scanty, the country being overflowed every spring-tide by salt water. It is a dreary waste of great extent, but beautiful in the extreme, the lofty trees growing down to the water’s edge with little or no brush or underwood. The innumerable rivers and creeks which intersect this country in every direction form a passage so intricate as to require the assistance of a pilot; its windings are like the mazes of a labyrinth, in which a stranger would find himself immediately bewildered. In 12 days I found myself domiciled at Dacca.  .  .  .53

Living with Danger This distinctive landscape, broken apart through fluvial shifts from the sixteenth century, also made for powerlessness against animal and human predators. Living with recurrent risk became a characteristic of the Bengal coast from the sixteenth century.

A Dangerous Coast The entire coast lived with danger. Tigers, crocodiles and snakes menaced human habitation and pirate dinghies and slave raiding boats infested the waters of the delta. Midnapore, the westernmost point giving access to the open sea was a favourite hunting ground for the Portuguese. Hijli in Midnapore remained particularly vulnerable. The Kabi Kankan Chandi, written in 1577, already called the Midnapore-Orissa coast a ‘Feringhi Desh’ or foreign land, threatened by Portuguese ships anchoring there before monsoon at a time of peak business activity. Portuguese harmads—a Bengali corruption of the word ‘armada’—made piracy, salt trading and slave-sourcing their chief activities.54 The name Naraghat in Midnapore district literally means a landing place or anchorage point for humans and ships, it

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is an echo of the former practice of landing captives there to be sold off as slaves to Portuguese ships anchored mid-stream. It is a classic example of an anchorage that transformed into a slave-mart and port. Pipli, Balasore, and for a time Hooghly, were slave marts and ports. The southeastern delta which had bigger rivers going far inland, and consequently more creeks and inlets for magh bands (PortugueseArakanese raiding combines) to travel in, faced even more severe raids. The Mughals were helpless in the face of this menace. Mughal chronicler Shihabuddin Talish wrote sarcastically that hundred boats of the Mughal’s Bengal fleet fled if they sighted even four of the enemy’s boats. The Portuguese drove stakes through the prisoners’ hands and kept them trussed like chickens in the ship’s hold until they could be sold.55 Arakan partnered Portugal in slave raiding. ‘Maghtola’ near Mymensingh town in Bangladesh, the ‘Magh’ Era used in reckoning at Chittagong and tanks called ‘Magher Dighi’ in Tripura are instances of Arakan’s ominous presence in the delta, shattering the fragile frontier around Sagor.56 Manrique, touring this area between 1629 and 1643, noted that Dakhin Shabazpur, anchorage point and part of Pratapaditya’s domain only some three decades earlier, was totally deserted as result of Arakan’s raids.57 English East India Company official, Streynsham Master, wrote on 7–8 September 1676: This morning wee came faire by the Arracan shore  .  .  .  and came to an anchor at the mouth of the River near the Ile of Coxes  .  .  .  sand) This day we passed by the River which goes to Chittygom and Dacca, which the English call the River of Rogues, by reason the Arracaners used to come out there to Rob.  .  .  .58

Bowrey noted the peculiar geographic conditions facilitating raiding: Many Isles there be in the mouth of the Ganges, not inhabited more than with wild beasts  .  .  .  the Natives much dreadinge to dwell there, being timorous of the Arrackaners with their Gylars who many times have come through the Rivers and carried away captive many poor families of the Orixa folks.’59

Yet another contemporary, François Bernier wrote:



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They scoured the neighbouring seas in light galleys called galleasses, entered the numerous arms and branches of the Ganges, ravaged the islands of Lower Bengal, and often penetrating forty or fifty leagues up the country, surprised and carried away the entire population of villages on market days  .  .  .  (or) a marriage. The intruders made slaves of their unhappy captives.60

William Hedges, succeeding Master as English Company agent in Bengal referenced the decay in habitation and trade in deltaic Bengal, remarking on 15 December 1684 that Sagor, a flourishing revenue paying island, had become a ‘wild land’.61 By the eighteenth century, the raids had reached unimaginable proportions. In 1717, about 1,800 people were carried off from the delta to Arakan. The English East India Company’s business at Dhaka was seriously affected in 1748 and Hasting’s survey of the Chittagong region from 1768 to 1772 showed drastically declining birth rates, indicating the terror caused by magh raids.62 Rennell’s 1771 map of the delta marked it as ‘Country depopulated by Muggs’ and showed a number of forts around Bakla held against them. The frontier was fragile and port-towns and anchorages, despite being fortified, had very short lives. When the Portuguese were chased out of Hooghly in 1632, a band of them under Manoel de Azevado, attempted to settle at Sagor, downstream from the Hooghly River. This island on the western delta was then uninhabited, despite possessing a natural harbour. Here, Manrique reported, was a great festival where Bengalis shaved their heads and beards, anointed themselves with oil, and then prayed at a ruined temple that the Portuguese from Dianga had devastated through slave raids. The festival ended with the people wading out to sea and being eaten by sharks. The festival referred to is the festival of Gangasagor and the episode sums up the vitality as well as fragility of the delta, and also sheds light on the uncertain life of the delta ports.63

Merchants in Bengal It is evident from the foregoing that urbanism was uncertain, and there was little investment in port infrastructure in pre-colonial Bengal, despite the extensive fluvial network ensuring a plethora of

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ready-made anchorage points and harbours. The precarious existence of port-towns led to a quasi-urban adaptation as mechanism of survival as changes in the flows and directions of trade could bring sudden wealth or stagnation with little warning, primary port-towns could become secondary ports-of-call, and secondary ports lapsed into tertiary ports. The expansion of maritime trade, the process of commodity production connected with it and the existence of an organized money economy may have been expected to have brought about significant changes in the economic life of Bengal. This did not happen. No significant and long-lasting urban centre as can be seen on other coasts of the extended eastern Indian Ocean could emerge in such conditions. It is clear from the foregoing account that overseas trade rested, not on urban centres as such, but on a fragile combination of a mercantile-agrarian base. Urbanization along the Hooghly or the Meghna was primarily agrarian in character, it was dominated by the great regional markets which were held together by wholesale marts called gola, which were nourished, in their turn, by village haats. In the last the local Hindu merchant or mahajan was prominent, so when we talk of commerce from Bengal, we need to distinguish between the trade carried on by expatriate Asian merchants based in Bengal and that of the local Bengali merchants and emphasize the commercial tier each category occupied. Tome Pires had referenced the sedentary character of the Bengali-Hindu merchant around 1516; this raises the question as to whether the management of overseas trade by non-natives or perhaps expatriate Muslim merchants became a characteristic of late medieval Bengal’s commerce.64 Few of the Hindu merchants based in Bengal seem to be sea-going merchants. It is instructive to question why they withdrew from overseas trade as Hindu and Buddhist merchant-shipowners were visible in earlier periods. Tarafdar noted that by the Husain Shahi period the seaborne trade had gone out of the hands of local traders and was dominated by Arab and Persian merchants who connected into the China-Arabia-Abyssinia-Persian Gulf trade networks.65 As at all Indian Ocean ports, port-towns in Bengal were ‘open’ spaces. Foreign merchants were welcome to settle and forge maritime networks. Turks, Persians, Afghans, Armenians and Mughals controlled overland and overseas trade. Local merchants



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occupied a subordinate position to them as intermediary-level dealers such as brokers, banians, dalals and dadni merchants. Brokers were of two kinds—the public or bazaar broker specialized in specific goods, and the European private broker. At the bottom was a large group of merchants who contracted for small sums, these were the pykars and dalals. It is easy to locate the big Asian merchants based in Bengal. They are referenced by ethnicity: Mughals (that is, Central Asians), Pathans (Afghans), Uzbegs, Rumis (Turks), Persians, etc. The next category of merchants that can be found are those from the sub-continent, carrying on a pan-South Asian trade through the land routes. These are referenced by geographic provenance: Gujaratis, who were an important group usually operating through their Bengali gomasthas, Lahoris, Multanis, Hyderabadis, Deccanis, and also merchants from Benares, Delhi, Agra and Gorakhpur.66 Armenians, although not an Asian ethnic group, were prominent in Bengal as players on overland routes and their role within the English trade in Bengal and at the Murshidabad court are too well known to be repeated here.67 They dealt in textiles, saltpetre and opium and later in indigo, and they operated on maritime routes as well, either independently or in partnership with Europeans. In 1721, Khoja Aratoon Lazare, a private Armenian merchant at Chandernagore, sold to Guy de la Bouexiere, son of Director Francois de la Bouexiere, the 200 tons vessel La Madonne de Salut for Rs.11,000. A partnership for a trading company was formed on 20 September 1721 at Chandernagore between Guy de la Bouexiere, Du Bois Rolland and Nicolas Demetrius, a Greek private merchant.68 The Greeks, another group linked with Armenian traders and shipowners, functioned as salt traders alongside Bengali merchants, mainly concentrated around Dhaka, but in addition sometimes operated as shipowners, not just at British Calcutta but at the smaller European settlements along the Hooghly as well.69 Armenians referenced as shipowners and creditors to the French Company between 1722 and 1769 were Khoja ‘Safart’, Khoja Agazard, Malik Aga and Khoja Mirza Petrus.70 Khoja Petrus—vakil at Hooghly until 1741 and then luxury cloth trader at Saidabad, the Armenian suburb of Kasimbazar, and his younger brother Gregory, cloth trader at Hooghly—took opposing sides in the war of 1756–7 in Bengal. Petrus, close to Warren Hastings,

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sided against the Bengal nawab while Gregory became commander of the Bengal forces in 1760. Their link with the Murshidabad court would serve the Armenians well in their business dealings; being charged less duty by the Bengal nawabs, from the 1740s, Khwaja Wajid monopolized the Bihar trade in saltpetre on an annual payment of Rs.25,000 to Nawab Alivardi Khan; in 1752 he got the lucrative salt farming contract against an annual payment of Rs.25,000–30,000. An estimate of 1773 put the annual revenues of salt production and trade at Rs.1 million.71 Although native Bengali merchants were comparatively minor players by land and sea, Tome Pires and Duarte Barbosa mentioned sixteenth-century ‘merchants from Bengal’ trading with Southeast Asia or sometimes settled at Southeast Asian ports. Their religious affiliation is unknown, but can be assumed to be Islam. These ‘Bengali’ merchants were still found in Southeast Asian port-cities in the early seventeenth century. Around 1600, the great markets at Acheh and Banten contained peoples and stalls of ‘China, Bengala, Pegu, Coro, Guserate, Arabia and Rumos’ while those of Banten included in addition Portuguese, Spaniards and Malays.72 But the merchants from Bengal could not sustain their position. One reason was contemporaneous global changes. Erikson and Bearman noted: In the first few years of the seventeenth century, a few intrepid sailors on small English ships crossed the Atlantic and Indian Oceans, haphazardly initiating trade wherever they found willing partners. Within one hundred and fifty years, thousands of sailors on hundreds of English ships laden with bullion, silver, and manufactured goods from the West set out for distant ports in the East Indies to collect commodities brought to the coast and readied for exchange by English factors resident in the East. Yet rather than return to England as directed, many captains cycled throughout the East, purchasing and exchanging goods manufactured in one locale for those of another, thereby profiting from uneven terms of exchange. These private traders, free-riding on company resources, engaged in an illegitimate and formally censured entrepreneurial activity in pursuit of their own interests. As a by-product of this activity, these private traders laid the foundation for an integrated global market, transforming the nature of East-West trade in a short period from a simple dyadic structure to vastly more complex multilateral networks of exchange, ultimately leading to the emergence of densely connected global markets.73



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The Bengali Muslim merchants failed to coalesce into a dominant mercantile group able to engage with these new trends.74 Certainly there were other reasons: curbs on local capital formation for instance, partly because of their dependence on an agrarian-mercantile base as opposed to the Surat merchants who rested on a largely urban, mercantile base.75 The weak position of local merchants in international trade, the lack of commercial organizations as well as the absence of the application of technological skills to shipping hampered the emergence of an autochthonous merchant class in Bengal. The degree in evolution of technology, the absence or presence of technological dialogues and transfers, the approach adopted with regard to new ideas, class alignments in each region favouring or hindering trade as well as a region’s linkages between port, hinterland and centre were factors affecting economic growth, these corresponded in their turn to trade volumes and levels of integration between the agricultural, industrial and commercial sectors. The Ain-i-Akbari had highlighted the low maritime salaries in the Bay of Bengal as compared to salaries elsewhere: nakhodas from Satgaon, Acheh, Pegu and Tenasserim received Rs.400 as opposed to the Rs.800 they received at Cambay. The only exception in the Bay was Melaka, where a nakhoda earned Rs.1,600.76 Added to these factors was the low level of Bengali business ethics remarked on by Tome Pires earlier.

The Eighteenth Century: A Retreat from the Sea? In the early eighteenth century, Calcutta became the major source of British textile exports, and after the 1720s shipments from Bengal generally made up at least half the value of the English Company’s exports from India. Approximately 30 ships, called ‘East Indiamen’, sailed every year to the Company’s India stations, bringing back cargoes valued at around £2 million per annum by the 1750s.77 Ashin Das Gupta claimed a palpable Asian decline in shipping in this century, ‘Indian mercantile shipping almost disappeared from the Indian Ocean during the course of the 18th century because the structure which had supported it was no longer viable. The smaller craft, the dhow of the 19th century, replaced the middle size ships of the Indian shipowner.’78 For Gupta this absence was very apparent in

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Bengal where its ship-owning class had declined quite dramatically from the late seventeenth century and eastward sailings from the province had become much fewer than those from the Coromandel coast.79 Om Prakash corroborates this: A case in point is the eastward trade from the Bengal ports of Hugli and Balasore. This trade consisted essentially of four sub-branches: the trade with Arakan and Pegu; the trade with Siam with Tenasserim as the principal port; the trade with the Malay peninsula and Sumatra, the principal ports of call in the area being Phuket, Kedah, Perak, Melaka and Aceh; and the trade with Manilla in the Philippines. Evidence available in the Dutch shipping lists for the ports of Hugli and Balasore relating to departures for and arrivals from the eastward ports on the account of Indian and other Asian merchants, suggests a pattern of marked decline in this trade between the last years of the seventeenth century and about 1720.’80

However, Om Prakash also sees the Bengal subahdars taking over around 1670 as merchants and shipowners and notes they still chartered ships in the early years of the eighteenth century. Of the 50 Bengal merchants in coastal and intra-Asian trade between 1670 and 1718, 16 were state officials; 15 were Muslim, and only 1 was Hindu. There were no Armenians although one such was found among the 34 ordinary merchants from Bengal.81 By the 1730s, the retreat from the sea was palpable and the last remaining network from the Bengal coast—the Bengal-Acheh trade—ended in this decade. Jacques Vincens’ trade report of 1733 noted that this route, carrying ‘once the best trade in India’ (Indies?), was almost over and that other seaborne Asian networks too had disintegrated by then. But the Bengal-Maldives cauri run was still carried on by indigenous merchants as Europeans were not interested in this trade on account of the humid climate of the Maldives.82 There also seems to have been a shortage of labour in conducting overseas trade from Bengal, and French records reflect a scarcity of skilled labour. Difficulties in finding lascars and workers such as carpenters at Chandernagore for various undertakings of the French company in the Isle de France (Mauritius) and Isle de Bourbon (Reunion) hampered trade, and the Chandernagore and Pondicherry consultations of the late 1730s underline this shortfall.83



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Between 1733 and 1793, much of the foreign trade passed into the hands of European companies and European private traders. The investment figures for Bengal silk in the western delta are as follows: while the Dutch East India Company or the VOC bought 20,000 pounds during 1635–40; this rose to 212,779 pounds during 1717– 18.84 The English East India Company invested in 20,000 pounds of Bengal raw silk in 1669; this became 121,298 pounds in 1718.85 The French company deployed annually 1,500,000 francs in the mid-1720s for Chandernagore while Pondicherry was allotted only 1,000,000 francs, Mahe got 110,000 francs and Mocha—the prime port on the Red Sea—was given only 350, 000 francs. Regarding the value of goods brought into France: in 1728, the Mercure brought in goods worth Rs.282,625 from Bengal against goods valued at Rs.28,745 sourced from Pondicherry. In the same year, the Bourbon brought in goods worth Rs.242,584 from Bengal against goods worth Rs.93,988 from Pondicherry. As consequence, from 1729 more funds were sent from France via Pondicherry into Chandernagore, the trend continuing into the 1730s and 1740s.86 Other than the three main companies of the English, the Dutch and the French, there were the lesser European companies based in Bengal such as the Danish, Prussian and Ostend companies which operated for shorter periods, but had high trade turnovers. Moreover, European private trade and the interloping and smuggling trades accounted for more demand for Bengal textiles.87 But we must not forget the Asian merchants who contracted for textiles in large sums in Bengal. Tavernier complained in the 1660s that of the total production of 3.1 million pounds of silk at Kasimbazar, the Europeans could manage to get only about 400,000 pounds, the rest was destined for Asian markets conducted by Asian merchants through the overland routes.88 In the southeastern delta, the chief commodity was muslin produced at Sonargaon and Dhaka and their environs, followed by the baftas produced in and around Jugdia. Jugdia also produced cottons called khas, hammam, sana, gara, rumals and doreas.89 Muslin was an item in huge demand in both Asia and Europe; the demand for bafta and other cottons came later.90 In 1748, the Calcutta Council of the English East India Company noted the following figures for investment at Kasimbazar in Sicca Rupees (568,400), at Dhaka

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(840,390) and at Jugdia (252,880).91 A detailed analysis of cloth exported from Dhaka in 1747 is shown in Table 4.1. A large portion of the trade figures shown in Table 4.1 referred to trade carried through land routes and not by sea. The Armenians had the largest share in the Dhaka textile trade to export to Basra, Mocha and Jeddah, followed by the Mughal merchants for the same markets. This is illustrated in greater detail in Sicca Rupees in Table 4.2, centred on the Jugdia and Dhaka trades. Of the Europeans the English company had the largest share in the Dhaka trade as shown in Table 4.1, occupying a rank just below the Mughal merchants in this trade. The Dutch came last, unlike their commercial position in the western delta, and surprisingly in both Tables 4.1 and 4.2 the French occupy quite a respectable position in the textile trade from the southeastern delta, again as opposed to their declining position in the western delta at that time.92 The cornering of the textile trade by private European traders at different arangs of Bengal at the end of the eighteenth century in Sicca Rupees is illustrated in Table 4.3. The English Company’s investment at the same arangs is shown in Table 4.4, but with the addition of Chittagong, from mid-century. In both Tables 4.3 and 4.4, Table  4.1: 

Investment at Dhaka in 1747

Destination/Merchant Group (in Arcot Rupees)

Imperial household at Delhi Nawab’s household at Murshidabad House of Jagatseth at Murshidabad Turani merchants Pathan or Afghan merchants Armenian merchants Mughal merchants Hindu merchants English Company for Europe English individuals for foreign markets French Company for Europe French individuals for foreign markets Dutch Company for Europe

Amount 1,00,000 3,00,000 1,50,000 1,00,000 1,50,000 5,00,000 4,00,000 2,00,000 3,50,000 2,00,000 2,50,000 50,000 1,00,000

Source: Based on Abdul Karim, Dacca: The Mughal Capital, Dacca: Asiatic Society of Pakistan, 1964.

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Table  4.2: 

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Investment at Jugdia and Dhaka around 1755

Merchant

Jugdia Dhaka

English Company 1,000,000 400,000 750,000 280,000 French Company European traders 1,000,000 230,000 Asian traders 1,500,000 1,800,000 (of which Armenian trade comprised 500,000 [in Table 4.1]) Source: Centre des Archives Outre Mer, Aix en Provence, France, manuscript no. AE BIII 459.

the trade recorded at the English settlement at Lakhipur was high, but the Dhaka investment seems to have not grown as much. The Malda investment in the west of the province declined. At the end of the century, the ‘l’affaire Abdullah’ in the French records showed that the English Company was determined to stamp out competing networks on the Bengal-Southeast Asia route. On 2 February 1793, a ‘Malay’ pirate attacked a French ship sailing the Bengal-Bhimlipattinam-Pedir route. On closer inspection the ‘Malay’ who raided the ship with his knife and musket trained on the crewmen was seen to be none other than a Frenchman named Lourant de St. Severin of part Malay parentage who had settled in that part of the ocean. St. Severin was part corsair, part brigand and part trader. Pre-modern identities frequently coalesced in this part of the world and St. Severin carried forward a long and distinguished Table  4.3: 

Arang Dhaka Malda Lakhipur

Private European Trade Investment Figures, 1795–1801

1795–6 1796–7 1797–8 1798–9 1800–1 879,829 – 777,504 577,910 602,565 208,071 – 179,595 138,061 152,186 1,659,996 416,811 561,585 667,162 1,226,453

Source: Hameeda Hossain, The Company Weavers of Bengal: The East India Company and the Organisation of Textile Production in Bengal, 1750–1813, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1988, p. 100.

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Arang

 4.4:  English Company Trade Figures, 1754–1800

1754–5 1758–9 1761–2 1771–2 1791–2 1794–5 1799–1800

Chittagong – – – 100,000 102,850 121,117 Dhaka 168,000 134,067 546,000 1,177,607 966,000 543,380 Malda 194,620 296,088 – 360,000 538,326 469,692 Lakhipur – 139,596 168,000 700,000 898,338 545,128

18,179 197,000 179,595 567,585

Source:  Hossain, The Company Weavers of Bengal, p. 98.

tradition of buccaneering in the eastern seas, much as the Portuguese and Spanish adventurers or the pirates of the Barbary Coast had done before him. As Lourant de St. Severin’s ship contained a motley crew consisting of English, French and Portuguese sailors, the English East India Company put pressure on the Pondicherry Council of the French East India Company to institute proceedings against him. On 8 May 1793, a procès-verbaux was initiated at Pondicherry condemning this style of functioning.93 A ‘permanent settlement’ of the maritime space was thereby attempted even as the English East India Company introduced a Permanent Settlement of land in Bengal in the same year through a series of regulations dated 1 May 1793.

A Burgeoning Capitalism Om Prakash noted on eighteenth-century Asian shipping from Bengal: there would seem to have been no connection between this development (decline) and the policies of the VOC. If one dis-aggregated the nature of the decline of the Bengal-eastward trade, it turns out that it was ascribable entirely to the withdrawal from high seas trade of Mughal state officials engaged in trade in addition to their other activities. The volume of eastward trade carried on by the ordinary merchants registered no particular decline. It would be highly unlikely that in a situation where ordinary merchants could survive the company’s trade and ‘pass’ policies, state officials with a substantial resource and power base would have been obliged to withdraw from trade by the company policies. This conclusion finds strong support in the history of the trade between Bengal and the Maldive islands. During the closing years of the seventeenth and the early years of the eighteenth century, while this branch registered an increase, the participation of state officials in it declined markedly.94



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If, as Om Prakash writes, Dutch policy did not discriminate against merchant-shippers where then did these officials go? Despite their retreat from sea borne commerce, there are indications that state officials found other sources of revenue. Eighteenth-century Bengal saw intensive revenue and tax farming whereby money from production and trade was ploughed back into court and elite expenses and investments. This process, called political capitalism by some and ‘portfolio capitalism’ or ‘political merchant’ participation by others, is deemed to have started with the appointment of Mir Jumla as Mughal subahdar to Bengal in 1660.95 In Qutb Shahi Golconda, Mir Jumla had combined interests in seaborne trade, internal trade, the farming of revenue, control over diamond mines and military functions. His death in 1663 cut short the process in Bengal, but for the three years Mir Jumla was posted there he seems to have partly abandoned the participation in overseas trade that had been so apparent during his tenure in Golconda in the 1630s and 1640s and concentrated on capturing the production sphere of Bengal instead. After him Shaista Khan, the next Mughal subahdar, continued the practice of monopolies. It has been estimated that between 1664 and 1712, Mughal subahdars personally accumulated almost a half of Bengal’s revenue demand of those years through extortion, exactions, monopolistic trade practices and the administration of their personal revenue assignments.96 From the end of the seventeenth century, a group of courtiers controlled the province’s production, owned ships, traded overland and overseas, oversaw the mint, regulated the financial realm, established bazaars and fixed prices throughout the province. Port administration passed into the hands of a coterie; between 1647 and 1681 administration of the Mughal port and imperial customs at Hooghly was in the hands of three powerful faujdars or chief port officials: Malik Beg, Malik Kasim and Kasim’s son Malik Zindi. The last two controlled all commercial traffic out of Hooghly, Pipli and Balasore and Malik Zindi was probably a shipowner himself.97 From 1711, Nawab Murshid Quli Khan ignored Mughal nominees sent from Delhi and personally controlled all faujdar appointments in the province by choosing relatives and favourites.98 The post of faujdar was commercially important, strategic and politically sensitive. The future Nawab Alivardi Khan entered the Bengal service as faujdar of the port-town and capital of Rajmahal around 1728.99 De Gennes

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de la Chancelliere saw in 1743 the office of the faujdar of Hooghly held by the nephew of nawab Alivardi Khan.100 By the start of the eighteenth century, a ‘regionally-oriented’ ruling group was administering Bengal, facilitating what Tilottama Mukherjee called a ‘coordinating state’.101 It was marked by an aggressive fiscal centralization from Murshidabad and a widespread reallocation of revenue collection rights. 102 The nawabs ‘almost doubled the state’s land revenue demands’ by imposing cesses known as abwabs between 1700 and 1763.103 Increasing profit from rapid regional consolidation therefore explains the withdrawal of state officials from overseas trade. Not just in offices and revenue, many officials directly invested in the production sphere, and the complex of rights, possessions and property forms underwent a change toward a more nuanced form of ownership and property rights. Between 1700 and 1765, at least 20 new bazaars were established by the nawabi elite at Patna, Murshidabad and Dhaka.104 The system’s evolution in Bengal shows how early modern fiscal systems worked in Asia. One can begin to analyse their effects on state capacity and power, ruler autonomy, economic development and other central aspects of the making of the modern world as well as the role of the ‘contractor state’ in its making.105 There was also a nexus between political will, military power and economic clout. For waging wars, ruling powers raised money from the bankers and principal men of the city proportionate to their circumstances. In return, rulers gave signed bonds pledging payment once the enemies were subdued. The army in turn was dependent for provisions on the grain merchants that followed it.106 Tirthankar Roy saw Maratha, and subsequent British, Bengal evolving into a ‘military-fiscal state’ suggesting a co-evolution of fiscal capacity and of military capacity; the fiscal enterprise having two aspects, extortion and consolidation, the latter being an overhauling of the relationship between the tax-paying intermediaries and the state, so as to direct more taxes to the treasury.107 An integrated financial realm came up through the establishment of pan-Bengal banking firms with branches at Patna, Dhaka and Kasimbazar run by courtier-merchant-financier combines.108 For this regionally-oriented group, there were two main types of tax structures to extract resources from subjects: a hierarchical form



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employing salaried state officials and a market form known as tax farming. Which path a state chose depended on the relative strengths of the ruler, tax farmers and tax payers as well as the state’s capacity to enforce compliance. Essentially, states paid salaries and expenses out of the treasury or raised it from the market instead. Most chose the latter path, or a combination of the two. Tax farming was a short-term measure to increase the circulation of goods and money. Rising bullion imports from foreign trade increased the circulation of specie at this time. In Bengal, the production sphere entering the market had two main components: agricultural goods and industrial-commercial products, the most important of which were textiles. Murshid Quli Khan’s mal zamini agricultural reforms of 1722 amalgamated the numerous and multilayered tax collection system into five major estates in Bengal. The state took security bonds from the ijaradars (contractors) who collected the land revenue, these later came to be known as zamindars (landlords). Tax farm contracts changed dramatically; they gradually transformed from small, competitively auctioned, units into a large cartel. Cartelization of tax farms lowered costs and the state’s revenues increased. In 1728, Nawab Shuja undertook a new revenue survey and increased the jama (assessment). The foundations of an even more intensive revenue farming were laid in Bengal at this time. During Nawab Alivardi’s tenure from 1740 to 1756 tax farming seems to have intensified, although as the practice was shrouded in secrecy in Bengal; no further details are available for this. 109 Although the Mughals frowned on tax farming on principle, many South Asian polities practised it to finance salaries and expenses. From the 1740s until 1756, opium, saltpetre and salt were farmed as royal monopolies.110 Revenue farming of opium and saltpetre was controlled by Alivardi Khan’s brother Haji Ahmad who formed a consortium along with the merchant-courtier brothers Deepchand and Omichand.111

Bengal in the New EighteenthCentury Geography The eighteenth century saw other changes as well. An imperial amalgam of maritime space appeared in this century, enabling the

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movement of troops and goods between the colonial port and its distant metropolis, creating in the process a trans-oceanic network of naval stations and maritime bases located not only at key chokepoints but also along critical sea-lanes. Subsequently, the reach of the sea expanded; developments in this century foresaw inland waterways becoming important with steamship navigation in the nineteenth century, as did rail links connecting ports to the interior. Ports appeared at favourable intersections. With new ports that rose in the colonies, the volume of regional merchandise at ports entering the imperial-global market became significant.112 The Bengal coast felt this pull, but the pull was not unidirectional. Instead, a close look at economic activities in the eighteenth century reveals a phase transition; it was a chaotic situation from which the new colonial system was yet to emerge. Private trading interests for pecuniary gain triumphed over official company trade as protest against the old restrictive mercantilist model that was now breaking down. The conventional model of shipping goods though Pondicherry was discarded by the French during Dupleix’s tenure at Chandernagore from 1731 to 1741, and in 1733 a direct run started between Chandernagore and Persia. In 1731, Chandernagore was joined to the Senegal run via Pondicherry, Mauritius and Reunion, and from 1737, when Bengal goods were demanded by the factors at Mauritius for the Mozambique market, such goods were charged from 1738 onwards on French ships destined for Mozambique. French and Portuguese private traders collaborated in direct shipping from Chandernagore to East Africa, often under company aegis, Dupleix for example starting a short-lived but direct Mozambique run from 1738, bypassing the conventional route through Pondicherry and Mauritius, and piggy-backing on Portuguese commercial networks to Mozambique through a partnership with Tempest Milner who was employed by Portuguese private traders from Lisbon.113 New currencies appeared at ports to be melted down into local currencies, resulting in the growing familiarity of local sarafs (moneychangers) and dealers with the many currencies of global trade.114 New languages became current: when ships of unknown origin arrived at Calcutta port in the early 1700s, notices were issued in English, Bengali, Portuguese, Persian, Armenian and Nagari.115 Sources of silver had been closely guarded during the mercantilist period of Europe’s trade with Asia, but in the eighteenth-century



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quasi-national monopolies over silver from sourcing areas broke down. Among national monopolies, that of Spain over New World silver was the best known. In the eighteenth century, French and English ships breached the Spanish monopoly by bringing in New World silver from Acapulco via Manila into the east coast, the excess silver causing a glut in the market. That the French were tapping into Spanish networks for silver in Europe as well is seen by outgoing French vessels stopping at Cadiz in the 1720s to charge New World silver on board, officially using Portuguese networks to free-ride on Spanish silver networks at Cadiz itself. Once again, the lines between private and company trade started disappearing.116 Paradoxically, in the eighteenth century, which is regarded as an age of incipient nationalism in Europe, national crossovers became more common at sea and on land. European companies were not tightly bounded entities. Men of all nationalities had always staffed them as factors, sailors, shippers and captains, nationality stopping east of the Cape of Good Hope. Nor were their settlements tightly enclosed ‘national’ spaces. Gondolpara in French Chandernagore belonged to the Danish Company from 1698–1714 and French Chandernagore collaborated with Danes settled there in shipping and freight. For 1755–7, we have the commercial correspondence kept by Pierre-Philippe Rocquefeuil, a Frenchman working for a Portuguese joint-stock company.117 Just as the seas morphed at this time, on land too a spatial transition is observable when British India ports diverted traffic away from traditional markets and port-cities. By the 1750s, the French in Bengal lost out by being located upstream near the older production centres in the royal mulberry belt of Murshidabad. The English East India Company had situated itself on a swamp downstream, the company was initially derided by other Europeans for this choice of location that became British Calcutta, but one proving increasingly effective as proximity to the Bay of Bengal facilitated control of upstream-downstream passages from the 1730s.118 Shifts were echoed in the textile-production sphere of Bengal from the middle of the eighteenth century. There were reports that the line between productions at royal karkhanas (centres making textiles for elite consumption) and the arangs (rural manufactories for commercial sales) started disappearing.119 Both were closely regulated by the rulers and Europeans were not allowed to enter

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into and buy directly from the arangs. Trade at Jugdia was profitable for Europeans because it was not part of the Dhaka arangs; its outlet was Chittagong instead.120 But some arangs around Kasimbazar were being transformed into unofficial royal karkhanas by 1739 for Nawab Sarfaraz Khan and members of his court who engaged in monopolistic trade practices.121 Once English agents forcibly entered the arangs from 1754, the situation became even more chaotic. The European pattern of production too underwent a change, but the change arose from different compulsions. Earlier the entire production process was carried out at a particular settlement or factory town, and textiles, for example, being unitarily manufactured before being ‘finished’ and shipped to the chief factory for onward transmission. Now, as the case of the baftas from Jugdia demonstrates, these were sent to Chandernagore for washing and finishing and then transferred to Pondicherry for onward shipping.122 Post 1757, at a critical moment for Europe and Bengal in the transition to colonialism, Law de Lauriston envisaged a grand alliance between the native princes, the Marathas, the Ottomans, Russians and the French against the English in Bengal, whereby the French could attack East India Company occupied Bengal through Maratha ruled Nagpur, advancing through Orissa into Bengal. 123 The East India Company was already menaced by the Maratha occupation of Cuttack from 1751, which threatened to cut the coastal lines of communication between Bengal and the Bay, while the French, who had pulled out from the Orissa coast in 1749, had nothing to lose.124 This impractical vision indicates the new spatialities appearing in eastern India after the English conquest of Bengal in 1757.125 Finally, a new maritime geography emerged whereby islands across the Indian Ocean functioned as relay points and colonial ports transformed into hubs, both greatly undermining the role of earlier port-cities.126

Conclusion The essay has now come to the end of its account of eighteenthcentury merchants and trade from Bengal. Although in the first half of the eighteenth century, the merchant often appears shorn of any participation in seaborne commerce, this chapter study argued that economic activity did not disappear overnight. The



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earliest defenders of the ‘revolution’ of 1757 glossed over this aspect, framing the Company’s defeat of Nawab Siraj-ud-daula as part of a longer narrative of the breakdown of Mughal imperial authority and tyrannical financial management. William Watts, who published his Memoirs of the Revolution in Bengal in 1760, argued that the Company had been forced to defend itself from the rapacious greed of successive Bengal nawabs in order to protect trading rights derived from the Mughal farman. Watts’ Memoirs gave a stereotypical account of Asiatic despotism. The Hindus were kept in ‘abject slavery’ by the race of Moors. ‘The whole country belongs’ to the emperor, ‘his subjects having no other laws but the dictates of his will’. When emperors were fatally weakened by luxurious pursuits, ‘a kind of anarchy’ overtook India marked by endless ‘civil wars’. There was ‘hardly any such thing as legal authority subsisting in any part of the empire’. Meanwhile, the British rights to duty-free trade and to hold land around their factories were ‘as solid and firm  .  .  .  as the constitution could give’, having been obtained ‘when the Mughal Empire was in its most flourishing condition’.127 But the province was no longer flourishing. It was argued in this chapter study that the mid-century transition to colonialism may be sought in the structural ‘holes’ arising from Chinese and Indian withdrawal from ports and markets in Southeast Asia, a withdrawal signifying the snapping of commercial links integrating the eastern Indian Ocean. Once India and China moved apart, merchant networks bridging the two economies disappeared. In support of this line of reasoning, Erikson and Bearman observed that although ‘country trade’ in the Indian Ocean was historically significant and commercially sophisticated, by the seventeenth–eighteenth century it was fragmented into largely disjointed markets due to the penetration of new European networks. The same structural holes appeared with the withdrawal of the Chinese, Russians and Mughals from Central Asia in the eighteenth century. The English could move in at both places, free riding on official English networks and piggybacking on Asian shoulders. Between 1667 and 1679, in an effort to routinize the home market and reduce exposure in the East, the English East India Company gradually withdrew from the country trade. By 1680, it formally abandoned intra-regional trading and left it to individuals, commercial opportunities within the East being

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numerous. Between 1681 and 1764, English captains free riding on East India Company resources in pursuit of private profit bridged the structural holes resulting from this regional clustering.128 Their trade set in new networks, from which Bengal merchants and shipowners were noticeably absent, functioning thereafter only as suppliers of trade goods. But it was the portfolio capitalist in Bengal who was most affected. It was shown that a vigorous business class had emerged in Bengal and although merchants-shippers retreated, Asian portfolio capitalists were beginning to intervene in agricultural production, together with their attempts to control labour and trade. This was the origin of many of the ‘new’ zamindaris of the eighteenth century. The magnate households of eighteenth-century North India were linked to merchant houses which could mobilize liquid capital, and which participated in extensive (if not pan-Indian) chains of credit and commodity movement. Also, merchant capital was playing a more visible role in state and military finance. This was a condition which materially aided the rise to power of the English East India Company. As Subrahmanyam and Bayly noted, the primary rivals of the English private trader were not the smaller merchants with their two hundredton vessels. These they permitted to continue into the nineteenth century, and even made alliances with them in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The price for the expansion of English private trade was paid instead by the Asian portfolio capitalist, who—while able to resist English or Dutch Company competition both in economic terms and by counterposing his control of military force on land to their control of the sea—was impotent in the face of the more insidious private trader. The rapid and remarkable success of English private traders and later their French counterparts is scarcely explicable had they been dependent solely on their own resources, brought to Asia from Europe. Europeans in fact tapped into the networks of bazaar and mahajan finance that had once supported the indigenous portfolio capitalist. Holden Furber, Peter Marshall and Bruce Watson showed private Englishmen—even if Company servants—creating in the eighteenth-century complex enterprises, combining seaborne trade, overland and fluvial commerce, farming commercial crops, and creating private monopolies and monopsonies, thus becoming ever more entangled in the middle



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ground between Indian sovereigns and the subjects over whom they aspired to rule. These ‘nabobs’ were the lineal descendants of the Asian portfolio capitalist, supported by an infrastructure of credit and multiple activities they inter-penetrated. The British portfolio capitalist eventually served not merely as a bridge to colonialism, but as a catalyst to a structural reorientation in patterns of international commodity and financial flows in the second half of the eighteenth century.129 Muhammad Reza Khan noted in the 1770s that the earlier trade by Asian merchants nourished agriculture, provided revenue, enriched the merchants and kept the kingdom healthy. He lamented this state of things was no more and suggested throwing open the foreign trade of Bengal to all once again. But it was too late. The eighteenth century had made two facts plain about portfolio capitalism in all of its guises: first, its dependence on an infrastructure of local capital, and second, the dangers posed to a sovereign state by the volatile combination of external trade, agrarian surplus and military power in the hands of intermediate elements.130 In the mercantilist world of Company protected markets and monopoly, the Company’s interest in maximizing its profits from the Indian trades inevitably forced Asian merchants out of the Bengal trade. And the Company’s new ability to pay for goods in India and in China using money garnered from the Bengal revenues after the assumption of the Diwani in 1765 resulted in an ‘unrequited’ drain of wealth from Bengal that reached unimaginable proportions by the end of the century and which the Bengal famine of 1769–70, following closely on the heels of the Company’s conquests, clearly manifested.

Notes  1. B. Arunachalam, Heritage of Indian Sea Navigation, Mumbai: Maritime History Society, 2002; Robert L. Hardgrave Jr., Boats of Bengal: Eighteenth Century Portraits by Balthazar Solvyns, Delhi: Manohar, 2001; James Hornell, The Boats of the Ganges, Calcutta: Asiatic Society of Bengal, 1924; Basil Greenhill, Boats and Boatmen of Pakistan, United Kingdom: David & Charles, 1971.  2. K.N. Chaudhuri, Trade and Civilisation in the Indian Ocean: An Economic History from the Rise of Islam to 1750, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985, p. 39.

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 3. See Ibn Battuta, Voyages, ed. E.C. Defremery and B.R. Sanguinetti, vol. 3, Paris: Maspero, 1982. This statement of Ibn Battuta was repeated by French travellers François Bernier and Robert Challes in the seventeenth century, but Salim called it ‘paradise’; see, Ghulam Husain Salim, Riyazus-Salatin: A History of Bengal, tr. Abdus Salam, Calcutta: Asiatic Society, 1902, p. 3.  4. S. Arasaratnam, ‘Recent Trends in the Historiography of the Indian Ocean, 1500 to 1800’, Journal of World History, vol. 1, no. 2, Fall 1990, p. 239.  5. Sanjay Subrahmanyam and C.A. Bayly, ‘Portfolio capitalists and the political economy of early modern India’, Indian Economic and Social History Review, vol. 25, no. 4, 1988, p. 408.  6. Rila Mukherjee, Merchants and Companies in Bengal: Kasimbazar and Jugdia in the Eighteenth Century, Delhi: Pragati, 2006, p. xxxv, n. 79.  7. Charu Chandra Roy, ‘Le Commerce Particulier des Francais au Bengale’, Revue Historique de l’Inde Francaise, vol. 3, 1919, Paris and Pondichery, pp. 350–87, p. 387.  8. Robert Travers, Ideology and Empire in Eighteenth-Century India: The British in Bengal, New York, Cambridge University Press, 2007, p. 80.  9. Rila Mukherjee, ‘From Small World to Large Universe: Kasimbazar in Eighteenth Century Bengal’, in Self-organizing Networks and GIS Tools: Cases of Use for the Study of Trading Cooperation (1400–1800), ed. Ana Crespo Solana and David Alonso Garcia, Scientific Papers, 2012, pp. 299–300.  10. Om Prakash, ‘Europeans, India and the Indian Ocean in the early modern period’, South Asia: Journal of South Asian Studies, vol. 19, no. 1, 1996, p. 22.  11. British Museum Add. MS 34, 123, fol. 42.  12. Mukherjee, Merchants and Companies in Bengal, pp. 116–18.  13. Ibid., p. 109.  14. Ibid., pp. xiii–iv, 117.  15. Ibid., p. 114.  16. Ibid., p. 131.  17. HMS 804, Fort William, 23 October 1752, p. 8. India Office Records, London.   18. Victor B. Lieberman, Strange Parallels: Southeast Asia in Global Context, c.800–1830, Volume 2: Mainland Mirrors: Europe, Japan, China, South Asia, and the Islands, New York: Cambridge University Press, 2009, p. 713.  19. S.P. Chatterjee, Bengal in Maps: A Geographical Analysis of Resource Distribution in West Bengal and Eastern Pakistan, Calcutta: Orient Longmans, 1949, p. 8.  20. John Rudd Rainey, ‘The Sundarban: Its Physical Features and Ruins’,



 21.  22.

  23.

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 30.

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Proceedings of the Royal Geographical Society and Monthly Record of Geography, vol. 13, no. 5, May 1891, pp. 273–5. Charles Stewart, History of Bengal, Calcutta: Bangabashi Press, 1903, pp. 268, 461. James Rennell, Esq. F. R. S.; Communicated by Joseph Banks, Esq. P.R.S., ‘An Account of the Ganges and Burrampooter Rivers’, Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society of London, vol. 71, 1781, pp. 87–114; James Rennell, Memoir of a Map of Hindoostan: or the Mogul empire: with an introduction etc., London: M. Brown, 1788, p. 255. Rila Mukherjee, ‘Maps, Concealed Geographies, Ambiguous Connectivities’, in Rethinking Connectivity: Region Place and Space in Asia, ed. Lipi Ghosh and Rila Mukherjee, Delhi: Primus, 2016, pp. 136–69. For routes in the region, see, Gordon H. Luce, ‘The Early Syam in Burma’s History’, Journal of the Siam Society, vol. 46, no. 2, 1958, pp. 128–9. William Foster, ed., ‘Ralph Fitch, 1583–91’, in Early Travels in India 1583–1619, 1921; repr., New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal, 1985, pp. 24–5. Abul Fazl, Akbarnama, tr. H. Beveridge, 3 vols. Calcutta: Asiatic Society of Bengal, 1973; Abul Fazl, Ain-i-Akbari, tr. H. Blochman and H.S. Jarrett, Calcutta: Asiatic Society, 1873–96; Mirza Nathan, Baharistan-I-Ghaybi, tr. M.I. Borah, Gauhati: Government of Assam, 1936. Kamrun Nessa Khondker, ‘Mughal River Forts in Bangladesh (1575– 1688): An Archaeological Appraisal’, Thesis Submitted to Cardiff University in Fulfilment of the Requirements for the Degree of Master of Philosophy, School of History, Archaeology and Religion, Cardiff University, December 2012, p. 94; available at https://orca.cf.ac. uk/46748/1/2013khondkerknmphil.pdf, accessed 30 September 2017. Jos Gommans, ‘Burma at the Frontier of South, East and Southeast Asia: A Geographic Perspective’, in The Maritime Frontier of Burma: Exploring Political, Cultural and Commercial Interaction in the Indian Ocean World, 1200–1800, ed. Jos Gommans and Jacques P. Leider, Leiden: KITLV Press, 2002, pp. 1–7. John Taylor, A Descriptive and Historical Account of the Cotton Manufacture of Dacca, in Bengal, London: John Mortimer, 1851. Niels Steensgaard, ‘The Route through Quandahar: the significance of the overland trade from India to the West in the seventeenth century’, in Merchants, Companies and Trade: Europe and Asia in the early Modern Era, ed. Sushil Chaudhury and Michel Morineau, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999, p. 69. Sushil Chaudhury, ‘International Trade in Bengal Silk and the Comparative Role of Asians and Europeans, circa 1700–1757’, Modern Asian Studies, vol. 29, no. 2, May 1995, p. 383.

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 31. Apart from being the Controller of the Mint and Treasurer General at Murshidabad, the Seths had significant shares in the overland caravan trade that ran from China to Constantinople. See, Indrani Ray, ‘Journey to Cassimbazar and Murshidabad: Observations of a French Visitor to Bengal in 1743’, in The French East India Company and the Trade of the Indian Ocean, A Collection of Essays by Indrani Ray, ed. Lakshmi Subramanian, New Delhi and Calcutta: Munshiram Manoharlal and Centre for Studies in Social Sciences, 1999, pp. 144–76.  32. Steensgaard, ‘Route through Quandahar’, p. 56.   33. Ranabir Chakravarti, ‘The Pull Towards the Coast: Politics and Polity in India (c.600–1300 ce) (Sectional President’s Address), Indian History Congress, 72nd Session, Punjab University, Patiala, 2011, pp. 11–13.  34. D.C. Sircar, Studies in the Geography of Ancient and Medieval India, repr. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1990, p. 124.  35. Richard M. Eaton, The Rise of Islam and the Bengal Frontier, 1204–1760, Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993, p. 307.  36. Jean Baptiste Tavernier, Travels in India, vol. 1, Book I, 1889; repr. Delhi: Asian Educational Services, 2001, pp. 102–3; Shafaat Ahmed Khan, ed., John Marshall in India: Notes and Observations in Bengal 1668–72, repr., Read Books, 2006, p. 69.  37. The voyage and travell of M. Caesar Fredericke, Marchant of Venice, into the East India, and beyond the Indies, in The Principal Navigations, Voyages, Traffiques and Discoveries of the English Nation by Richard Hakluyt, London: G. Bishop, R. Newberie and R. Barker, 1599; see, http://www. perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Perseus%3Atext%3A1999.03.0070% 3Anarrative%3D415, accessed 1 October 2017.  38. Cesar Fedrici of Venice, ‘Account Of Pegu’, translated from the Italian by Master Thomas Hickock, SOAS Bulletin of Burma Research, vol. 2, no. 2, Autumn 2004, pp. 152–3.  39. Glanius, A Relation of an Unfortunate Voyage to the Kingdom of Bengala, London: Henry Bonwick, 1682; Frans Janssen van der Heiden, Le Nauffrage du Terschelling sur les cotes du Bengale (1661), tr. Henja Vlaardingerbroek and Xavier de Castro, Paris: Chandeigne, 1999.  40. Captain G.T. Labey, The History of the Bengal Pilot Service: Being an Account of the Navigation of the Hooghly River, ed. Captain R. K. H. Brice, 1963.  41. Nicholas Bellin’s maps of Bengal, first issued in Abbe Prevost’s Histoire Generale des Voyages, Paris, 1747–61, and Bellin’s map of 1770 marked the western delta as ‘terres hautes’, or elevated lands, as opposed to the low lying southeastern littoral, and designated the Bengal shoreline as ‘Toute cette Cote est peu connue et fort Dangereuse’ or ‘this coast is unknown and very dangerous’.



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  42. Luis Filipe F.R. Thomaz, ‘The image of the Archipelago in Portuguese cartography of the 16th and early 17th centuries’, Archipel, vol. 49, 1995, p. 100, Plate II.  43. Genevieve Bouchon and Luis Filipe F.R. Thomaz, Voyage dans les deltas du Gange et l’Irraowaddy, 1521, Paris: Fondation Calouste Gulbenkian, 1998; Roderich Ptak, ‘Asian Trade in Cloves, Circa 1500: Quantities and Trade Routes-a Synopsis of Portuguese and Other Sources’, in The Portuguese and the Pacific, ed. Francis A. Dutra and Joao Camilo dos Santos, Santa Barbara, Center for Portuguese Studies, 1995, p. 157.   44. Thomaz, ‘The Image of the Archipelago’, p. 99, Plate I.  45. Khondker, ‘Mughal River Forts’.  46. Amândio Jorge Morais Barros, ‘The Portuguese in the Indian Ocean in the First Global Age: Transoceanic Exchanges, Naval Power, Port Organization and Trade’, in Oceans Connect: Reflections on Waterworlds Across Time and Space, ed. Rila Mukherjee, Delhi: Primus, 2013, pp. 143–202.   47. William Foster, The English Factories in India, 1618–1621, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1906, p. 197.  48. R.C. Temple, ed., Thomas Bowrey, A Geographical Account of the Countries Around The Bay of Bengal 1669–1679, Cambridge: Hakluyt Society, 1905, pp. 225–9.  49. Richard M. Eaton, Essays on Islam and Indian History, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2002, pp. 249, 266.  50. Rila Mukherjee, ed., ’Delta Ports in the First Global Age: Bengal’s Portbased Kingdom of Chandecan’, in Vanguards of Globalization: Port-Cities from the Classical to the Modern, Delhi: Primus, 2014, pp. 97–109; Rila Mukherjee, ‘Accidental Ports: the Bengal delta in the sixteenthseventeenth centuries’ in Subversive Sovereigns Across the Seas: Indian Ocean Ports of Trade from Early Historic Times to Late Colonialism, ed. Kenneth R. Hall, Rila Mukherjee, Suchandra Ghosh, Calcutta: The Asiatic Society, 2017, pp. 166–95.  51. Radhamadhav Datta, Manasa Panchali, ed. Amalendu Bhattacharjee, Calcutta: Mahajati Prakashan, 2004; Ramchandra Choudhury, ed. and comp., Sri Sri Padmapuran, Silchar, Assam: Choudhury Library, 2007.  52. T.H.D. La Touche, ed., The Journals of Major James Rennell, First SurveyorGeneral of India, Written for the Information of the Governors of Bengal during His Surveys of the Ganges and Brahmaputra Rivers 1764 to 1767, Calcutta: Baptist Mission Press and The Asiatic Society, 1910, p. 32.  53. H.R. Lindsay, ‘Anecdotes of An Indian Life’, in Lives Of The Lindsays, vol. IV, Wigan: C.S. Simms, 1840, pp. 16–17.  54. Mukundaram Chakravarty, Kabi Kankan Chandi, Calcutta: Indian Publishing House, 1921, pp. 205, 242, 295.

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 55. See Jamini Mohan Ghosh, Magh raiders in Bengal, Calcutta, Patna and Allahabad: Bookland, 1960, p. 5; H. Blochmann, tr., Shihabuddin Talish, ‘Fathiyya-i-Ibriyya’, Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, pt. I, Calcutta, 1872.  56. Ghosh, Magh raiders in Bengal, p. 4.   57. C.E. Luard, ed., Travels of Fray Sebastien Manrique, 1629–1643, vol. 1, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1927; J.C. Jack, Bengal District Gazetteers: Bakarganj, Calcutta: Bengal Secretariat Book Depot, 1918, p. 19.  58. R.C. Temple, ed., The Diaries of Streynsham Master 1675–1680 And Other Contemporary Papers Relating Thereto, vol. 1, Indian Records Series, London: J. Murray, 1911, p. 321.  59. Temple, ed., Thomas Bowrey, pp. 211–12.  60. Francois Bernier, Travels in the Mogul Empire, ad 1656–1668, second edition revised by Vincent A. Smith, 1914; repr., Delhi: Atlantic, 1989, p. 175.  61. Henry Yule and R. Barlow, eds., Diary of William Hedges During His Agency in Bengal, 1681–87, vol 1, London: Hakluyt Society, 1880, pp. 151–3.  62. Ghosh, Magh raiders in Bengal, p. 5.  63. Maurice Collis, The Lord of the Great Image-Being Experiences of Friar Manrique in Arakan, London: Readers Union and Faber and Faber, 1946, pp. 80, 187–8.  64. Armando Cortesão, tr., The Suma Oriental of Tome Pires, An Account of the East, From the Red Sea to China, written in Malacca and India in 1512–1515 and the Book of Francisco Rodrigues, Pilot Major of the Armada that Discovered Banda and the Moluccas, London: Hakluyt Society, 1944, pp. 88–95.  65. M.R. Tarafdar, Husain Shahi Bengal: ad 1494–1538, A Socio-Political Study, Dacca: Asiatic Society of Pakistan, 1965, p. 146.  66. Chaudhury, ‘International Trade in Bengal Silk’, p. 375.  67. For the career of Khwaja Wajid, Sushil Chaudhuri, ‘Trading Networks in a Traditional Diaspora: Armenians in India circa 1600–1800’, in Diaspora Entrepreneurial Networks: Four Centuries of History, ed. Ina Baghdiantz McCabe et al., 2nd edn., Oxford: Berg, 2005, pp. 51–72.  68. Roy, ‘Le Commerce Particulier’, pp. 361–2.  69. Ibid.; Mukherjee, ‘From Small World to Large Universe’; Rila Mukherjee, ‘Life and Trade in the Indian Ocean World from Eighteenth Century Chandernagor’, Senshu University Institute of Humanities Monthly Bulletin, no. 276, May 2015, pp. 1–9, see, p. 8.  70. Gnanou Diagou analysed, Arrets du Conseil Superieur de Pondichery, Supplement 1702–1725, Pondicherry: Societe de Histoire de l’Inde



 71.  72.

 73.  74.

 75.  76.  77.  78.  79.

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Francaise/Bibiotheque Publique and Paris: Ernest Leroux, 1940, dated 5 May 1722, pp. 137–40. The affair between Armenian merchants (particularly the famous Khoja Sarhad) and the French is also mentioned in Arrets, 11 May 1722, pp. 140–1; and in Bhaswati Bhattacharya, ‘The ‘Book of Will’ of Petrus Woskan (1680–1751): Some Insights into the Global Commercial Network of the Armenians in the Indian Ocean’ in Rila Mukherjee ed. Beyond National Frames: South Asian Pasts and the World, Delhi: Primus, 2015, pp. 142–71, p. 150; Roy, ‘Le Commerce Particulier’, pp. 362, 366, 370, 377–9, 384. Mukherjee, ‘From Small World to Large Universe’, p. 290, n. 454 and pp. 298–9. Pires noted merchants from Bengal at Acheh and Pase; Barbosa mentioned them at Pegu, Tenasserim, Acheh, Melaka and Sri Lanka; Guillot saw them at Banten. See, Cortesão, tr., The Suma Oriental of Tome Pires, pp. 88, 142; M.L. Dames, tr., The Book of Duarte Barbosa, London: Hakluyt Society, 1921; Claude Guillot, ‘Banten and the Bay of Bengal in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries’, in Commerce and Culture in the Bay of Bengal 1500–1800, ed. Om Prakash and Denys Lombard, New Delhi: Manohar/ ICHR, 1999, pp. 163–82, see, p. 166; Denys Lombard, ‘The Indian World as seen from Acheh in the Seventeenth Century’, in Commerce and Culture in the Bay of Bengal 1500–1800, ed. Om Prakash and Denys Lombard, New Delhi: Manohar/ICHR, 1999, pp. 183–96, see, pp. 186, 189; Anthony S. Reid, Southeast Asia in an Age of Commerce 1450–1680, vol. 1, New Haven: Yale University Press, 1988, p. 116. E. Erikson and P. Bearman, Routes into Networks: The Structure of English Trade in the East Indies,1601–1833, ISERP Working Paper 04–07, Columbia University, 2004, pp. 1–38, p. 2. M.R. Tarafdar, ‘The Bengali Muslims in the Pre colonial period: Problems of Conversion, Class Formation and Cultural Evolution’ in Marc Gaborieau ed. Islam et Societe en Asie du Sud, Paris, Purusartha, vol. 9, 1986, pp. 92–110, p. 110. Rila Mukherjee, Strange Riches: Bengal in the Mercantile Map of South Asia, Delhi: Foundation Books, 2006, p. 62, n. 170. H.S. Jarrett, tr., The Ain i Akbari of Abul Fazl Allami, corrected and annotated by Jadunath Sarkar, repr., Delhi: Crown Publications, 1988. Travers, Ideology and Empire in Eighteenth-Century India, pp. 32–3. Ashin Dasgupta, ‘The maritime merchant and Indian history’, South Asia: Journal of South Asian Studies, vol. 7, no. 1, 1984, p. 32. Ashin Das Gupta, ‘Bangoposagor’, Itihas Anusandhan, 1989 (in Bangla); Ashin Das Gupta, ‘Trade and Politics in Eighteenth Century India’, in Islam and the Trade of Asia, ed. D.S. Richards, Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1970; and in The Mughal State 1526–1750,

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 80.  81.  82.

 83.

 84.  85.  86.  87.

 88.  89.  90.  91.

A Comprehensive History of Modern Bengal ed. Muzaffar Alam and Sanjay Subrahmanyam, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1998, pp. 370–97. Prakash, ‘Europeans, India and the Indian Ocean’, p. 24 See Table 2.2 in Om Prakash, The Dutch East India Company and the Economy of Bengal, 1630–1720, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1988, pp. 30–1. Indrani Ray, ‘India in Asian Trade in the 1730s: A Discussion by a French Trader’, in The French East India Company and the Trade of the Indian Ocean, A Collection of Essays by Indrani Ray, ed. Lakshmi Subramanian, New Delhi and Calcutta: Munshiram Manoharlal and Centre for Studies in Social Sciences, 1999, pp. 177–202, see, pp. 190–2. Alfred Martineau, Correspondance du Conseil Superieur de Pondichery et de la Compagnie etc., Tome II, 1736–1738, Pondicherry: Societe Historique de l’Inde Francaise, n.d., 18 January 1738 and 15 October 1737, pp. 257–8, 24 January 1738, p. 114; Alfred Martineau, Correspondance du Conseil Supérieur de Pondichery et de la Compagnie etc., Pondicherry: Societe Historique de l’Inde Francaise, Tome III, 1739–42, n.d., 18 February 1741 and 31 December 1741, p. 368. Based on K.M. Mohsin, A Bengal District in Transition: Murshidabad 1765–1793, Dacca: Asiatic Society of Bangladesh, 1973; and Prakash, The Dutch East India Company. Based on K.N. Chaudhuri, The Trading World of Asia and the English East India Company 1660–1760, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1978. See Tome 1, 1726–1730, in Alfred Martineau, Correspondance du Conseil Superieur de Pondichery et de la Compagnie etc., Pondicherry: Societe Historique de l’Inde Francaise, 1920, pp. 9, 11–12, 37–8. P.J. Marshall, East Indian Fortunes: The British in Bengal in the Eighteenth Century, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1976; Ramkrishna Mukherjee, The Rise and Fall of the English East India Company: A Sociological Appraisal, 2nd edn., Berlin: Academie Verlag, 1957; Erikson and Bearman, Routes into Networks; Emily Erikson and Peter Bearman, ‘Malfeasance and the Foundations for Global Trade: The Structure of English Trade in the East Indies, 1601–1833’, American Journal of Sociology, vol. 112, no. 6, 2006, pp. 195–230. Jean Baptiste Tavernier, Travels in India, 2 vols., London: Oxford University Press, 1925. Alexander Hamilton, A New Account of the East Indies, 1688–1723, 2 vols., Edinburgh, 1727. Mukherjee, Merchants and Companies in Bengal, pp. 116–18. Narendra Krishna Sinha, The Economic History of Bengal: From Plassey to the Permanent Settlement, vol. 1, 3rd edn., Calcutta: Firma K.L. Mukhopadhyay, 1965, pp. 6–7.



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 92. Mukherjee, Merchants and Companies in Bengal, p. 109.   93. Proces Verbaux, 22MIOM/22, Centre des Archives Outre Mer, Aix en Provence, France.  94. Prakash, ‘Europeans, India and the Indian Ocean’, p. 24.  95. John F. Richards, The Mughal Empire, The New Cambridge History of India, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992; Subrahmanyam and Bayly, ‘Portfolio capitalists and the political economy of early modern India’; Sinappah Arasaratnam, Merchants, Companies, and Commerce on the Coromandel Coast, 1650–1740, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1986, pp. 222–4.  96. John R. McLane, Land and Local Kingship in Eighteenth-Century Bengal, revised edn., Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002, pp. 31–2.  97. See Temple, ed., Diaries of Streynsham Master, vol. 1, pp. 37, 44–7, 99; and Temple, ed., Thomas Bowrey, pp. 179–80.  98. C.R. Wilson, The Early Annals of the English in Bengal, being the Bengal Public Consultations for the First Half of the Eighteenth Century, vol. 1, London, Thacker, 1900.  99. Jadunath Sarkar, Bengal Nawabs, Calcutta: Asiatic Society, 1952, p. 13. 100. Indrani Ray, ‘Journey to Cassimbazar and Murshidabad’, in French East India Company and the Trade of the Indian Ocean, ed. Subramanian, p. 151. 101. Philip B. Calkins, ‘The Formation of a Regionally Oriented Ruling Group in Bengal, 1700–1740’, The Journal of Asian Studies, vol. 29, no. 4, August 1970, pp. 799–806; Tilottama Mukherjee, ‘The Co-Ordinating State and the Economy: The Nizamat in Eighteenth-Century Bengal’, Modern Asian Studies, vol. 43, no. 2, March 2009, pp. 389–436. 102. T.R. Travers, ‘“The Real Value of the Lands”: The Nawabs, the British and the Land Tax in Eighteenth-Century Bengal’, Modern Asian Studies, vol. 38, no. 3, 2004, pp. 517–58, see, esp. p. 534. 103. McLane, Land and Local Kingship, p. 58. 104. Mukherjee, Merchants and Companies in Bengal, p. 422. 105. H.V. Bowen et al., ‘The Contractor State, c.1650–1815’, International Journal of Maritime History, vol. XXV, no. 1, June 2013, pp. 239–74. 106. Tilottama Mukherjee, ‘The Co-Ordinating State and the Economy’, p. 422. 107. Tirthankar Roy, ‘Rethinking the Origins of British India: State Formation and Military-fiscal Undertakings in an Eighteenth Century World Region’, Modern Asian Studies, vol. 47, no. 4, 2013, pp. 1126, 1136. 108. Dacca Factory Records of 12 November 1750, MS at India Office Library and Records, London. See Mukherjee, Merchants and Companies in Bengal, pp. xxxviii–ix. 109. J. Albert Rorabacher, Property, Land, Revenue, and Policy: The East India Company, c.1757–1825, London and New York: Routledge, 2016.

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110. Mukherjee, ‘From Small World to Large Universe’, pp. 296–300. 111. Ibid., p. 297. Kumkum Chatterjee, Merchants, Politics and Society in Early Modern India: Bihar, 1733–1820, Leiden: Brill, 1996. 112. Jeremy Prestholdt, ‘Locating the Indian Ocean: notes on the postcolonial reconstitution of space’, Journal of Eastern African Studies, vol. 9, no. 3, 2015, p. 442. 113. Proces-Verbaux des Deliberations du Conseil Superieur de la Compagnie des Indes, 1724 a 1735, Tome II, Pondicherry: Societe de l’Histoire de l’Inde Francaise, 1913–14: see Letter of 15 June 1730, p. 268; Letter of 25 July 1731, p. 308; Letter of 4 February 1733, p. 362; see Tome 1, 28 September 1737, in Archives de L’Inde Francaise, Correspondance du Conseil Superieur de Pondicherry avec le Conseil de Chanderngore, 1728–57, Pondicherry: Societe de l’Histoire de l’Inde, 1915, p. 416; Tome II, 24 January 1738, in Martineau, Correspondance, p. 116; H. de Closets d’Errey, Resume des Lettres du Conseil Superieur de Pondichery a Divers, Du 1er Aout 1725 au 31 Decembre 1742 et Du 8 Decembre 1749 au 14 Novembre 1760, Pondicherry: Bibiotheque Publique, 1933, 7 September 1738, p. 65; João Teles e Cunha, ‘Glimpses of Portuguese Private Trade in India during the First Half of the Eighteenth Century: The Journal of the ‘Nau’ Our Lady of Conception Saint Francis Xavier (1737–39)’, in Beyond National Frames: South Asian Pasts and the World, ed. Rila Mukherjee, Delhi: Primus, 2015, pp. 103–41. 114. Mukherjee, Merchants and Companies in Bengal, p. 60. 115. In Kenneth McPherson, ‘Enemies of Friends? The Portuguese, the British and the Survival of Portuguese Commerce in the Bay of Bengal and Southeast Asia from the Late Seventeenth to the Late Nineteenth Century’, in The Portuguese and the Pacific, ed. Francis A. Dutra and João Camilo dos Santos, Santa Barbara: Center for Portuguese Studies, 1995 pp. 211–37, p. 227. 116. Rila Mukherjee, ‘The Eighteenth-Century South Asian Economy: Another look at English, French and Belgian Records’, in Beyond National Frames: South Asian Pasts and the World, ed. Rila Mukherjee, Delhi: Primus, 2015, pp. 214–49, see, esp. p. 226. 117. Teles e Cunha, ‘Glimpses of Portuguese Private Trade’, p. 104. 118. Mukherjee, ‘Eighteenth-Century South Asian Economy’, p. 233; Rila Mukherjee, ‘In Search of White Gold: Chandernagore in the Records of the Compagnie des Indes Orientales and the Compagnie des Indes, 1701–49’, in Convergence: Rethinking India’s Past, ed. Radhika Seshan, Delhi: Primus, 2014, pp. 77–108. 119. Mukherjee, Merchants and Companies in Bengal, p. xxxi. 120. Ibid., p. xiv. 121. Ibid., p. xxxi.



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122. Ibid., p. 130. 123. Jean Law de Lauriston, Etat Politique de l’Inde en 1777, Pondicherry/Paris: Societe de l’Histoire de l’Inde Francaise, 1913. 124. Ibid., pp. 56, 131. 125. Rila Mukherjee, ‘Competing Spatial Networks: Kasimbazar and Chandernagore in Overland and Indian Ocean worlds’, in Trade, Circulation and Flow in the Indian Ocean World, ed. Michael N. Pearson, New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015. 126. Aparna Vaidik, Imperial Andamans: Colonial Encounter and Island History, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010; Partha Mitter, ‘The Early British Port Cities of India: Their Planning and Architecture Circa 1640–1757’, The Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians, vol. 45, no. 2, June 1986, pp. 95–114; Andrew S. Cook, ‘Alexander Dalrymple’s A Collection of Plans of Ports in the East Indies (1774–1775): A Preliminary Examination’, Imago Mundi: The International Journal for the History of Cartography, vol. 33, no. 1, 1981, pp. 46–64. 127. Travers, Ideology and Empire in Eighteenth-Century India, p. 56. 128. Erikson and Bearman, Routes into Networks, p. 7; Andre Gunder Frank, ReORIENT: Global Economy in the Asian Age, Berkeley and L.A.: University of California Press, 1998; P.J. Marshall, Trade and conquest: Studies on the rise of British dominance in India, Aldershot, Hampshire, Great Britain and Brookfield, Vt. USA: Variorum, 1993. 129. See Subrahmanyam and Bayly, ‘Portfolio capitalists and the political economy of early modern India’, pp. 418–23; Holden Furber, John Company at Work: A Study of European Expansion in India in the eighteenth century, Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1948; Marshall, East Indian Fortunes; I. Bruce Watson, Foundation for Empire: English Private Trade in India, 1659–1760, New Delhi: Vikas Publishing, 1981. 130. Subrahmanyam and Bayly, ‘Portfolio capitalists and the political economy of early modern India’, p. 423; Abdul Majed Khan, The Transition in Bengal 1756–1775: A Study of Sayyid Muhammad Reza Khan, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1969, pp. 171–3.

5 The French Companies in Bengal 1664–1720 An Analysis Aniruddha Ray

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ince the second half of the sixteenth and first half of the seventeenth century, French merchants endeavoured to form companies to do commerce in the East. Till then the Dutch were bringing spices and other commodities from the East Indies to sell at a huge profit in France. Even King Henry IV established a company in 1602 that sent a ship to Madagascar next year. In 1642, the Duke of Meilleraye had established a company in France that continued till 1664 when it merged with the new company formed in 1664. Later this company established a factory in Bengal which even after expansion suffered from varied and complex problems. This company continued until the early years of the eighteenth century. Here these problems would be emphasized and the attempts of the French to overcome these difficulties. The principal objective of the Duke was to colonize Madagascar with occasional forays to further east. He therefore landed their clerks, officers and equipment to build a factory. This was set up at the Bay of Antongil, but later shifted to the interior which was called Fort Dauphin.

I There were two views on the formation of the French East India Company of 1664. The contemporary writer François Martin stated



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that some merchants of Rouen formed the Company for commerce to the Indies which got support from Colbert who got the approval of the King Louis XIV. The other view was given by Paul Kaeppelain in 1908 which stated that the entire formation of the Company was the handiwork of Colbert. The Company at first tried to colonize Madagascar and landed clerks, officers and equipment. From there, they went to Surat and rented a garden house of a Muslim merchant. But Surat did not prosper as they incurred huge debt within ten years. In 1665, Boulaye Le Gouz and Beber had brought a farman from Emperor Aurangzeb permitting the same privilege as given to the Dutch. From the beginning, the problems in Surat were intense. In 1668, Francois Caron arrived at Surat and the terrible feud started between him and the Armenian broker Marcara Avacin. Other French officials took two sides. Colbert was supporting Caron who had worked for 22 years in the Dutch East India Company and then had joined the French. Marcara was sent to the court of Golconda and was then imprisoned at Bastille at Paris from where he could later come out and win a case against the Company. Caron was later drowned in the sea while returning to France. The policy of Caron was to make Surat the centre and then to spread to Southeast Asia and China. But Colbert wanted Bengal to be the centre. It may be mentioned that François Martin advocated repeatedly for establishing Bengal as the centre where the French till the middle of 1670’s had not gone. In March 1668, François Bernier wrote to the French East India Company to establish a factory at Qasimbazar or at Murshidabad since textile would be available at cheaper prices that would give more profit. In 1671, Deltor the French Director suggested that the French should emphasize the purchase of textile instead of spices which meant the establishment in Bengal. All these were lost in the feud between Caron and Marcara at Surat. An accident brought the French to Bengal in the middle of 1674. A French ship going to Pondicherry reached Balasore due to severe storm. While some sailors and officials had gone to shore, a Dutch ship came and its occupants boarded the French ship and brought it to Chinsurah. The captain of the French ship managed to procure a boat and reached San Thome leaving the others behind at Balasore. Duplessis, a merchant, was one of those left behind. La Haye, the

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French general at San Thome, then fighting against Golconda and the Dutch forces, sent a complaint to the Subadar Shaista Khan against the Dutch seizure in a Mughal port. He also directed Duplessis to go to Dacca to meet the Subadar with his letter. Duplessis then went to Dacca to the Subadar Shaista Khan. On Duplessis’s application for the purchase of land for the settlement of a French factory in Bengal, Nawab Shaista Khan gave him a parwana to purchase land. Duplessis then purchased 60 bighas of land at Borokishenpur just over Chinsurah of the Dutch for Rs.401. He then surrounded the land with a wall and built a small lodge inside. He had to borrow money from local merchants which he could not repay. He then left for Pondicherry, but the French Company officials there did not give him any support. The Dutch meanwhile had occupied the land. This parwana has not been found so far. The French did not make any complaint against the Dutch on the seizure of land. This may suggest that Duplessis made an agreement to buy the land, but had not actually purchased it. There were other problems of the French in Bengal. The textile demanded by the French was of lesser width than those demanded by the English and the Dutch. Therefore, the weavers were required to change their looms. Since the weavers were very poor, they had to be paid in advance as done by the English and the Dutch. But the French had no money. At Surat, their debt had reached one million Livres and rose by 9 per cent annually. The other problem was that the Dutch ships were blocking Balasore, thus preventing the French ships from coming in or going out. On 14 June 1682, the French Director Baron suddenly died at Surat. François Martin took the charge of Surat on a temporary basis. Since then Bengal began to loom large in the French horizon. In November, another French ship had arrived at Hughli due to severe contrary wind. The French merchant Bertrand showed that the textiles of Bengal would give 4–5 per cent more profit than buying at Surat. By early 1686, François Martin was appointed Director of the Company for Coromandel and Bengal. He took full advantage of the glowing report of Bertrand. It was clear that the Company at home was thinking of the change of orientation of their policy in India in which eastern coast would dominate. Bertrand reached Pondicherry with an assortment of samples of textile from Bengal which would be sent to France for evaluation.



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Deltor had mentioned several problems. First, European cordage did not last in warm water and the Egyptian cordage had to be used. Second, the climate was not good for the Europeans in India and every year a dozen Europeans died. Third, a good pilot was required for navigation in the shifting sand banks. Often there was no more than 14 feet of water. But the ships could not stay at the roadstead as it would be too risky. Many of the problems were later solved. Regnalt who was working at Hughli suddenly died on 4 September 1688. The Company asked Andre Bureau Deslandes to go to Bengal. He came with his wife who was the daughter of François Martin. Deslandes was the real founder of the French in Bengal. There were two problems faced by him from the beginning. The first was the continuous quarrel with the customs officials over the duties to be paid. Even permission was required for lading and unlading of goods. The second was the opposition of the Dutch who often blocked the mouth of the Ganges. Deslandes was living at the Portuguese quarter at Bandel. According to a later French memoir, the Portuguese Augustine priests suddenly attacked Deslandes’s house. He escaped and rented the house of Mulla Hady, the interpreter of the English East India Company. While the French ships were coming with fund, the French started doing commerce with taffetas and silk. But higher duties were imposed in France on painted cloth, taffetas and silk. Meanwhile, the French were driven out of Siam. Malabar and Golconda were suffering from disastrous famine. The survival of the French in India was becoming difficult. To solve the problem of customs duties in Bengal, Deslandes sent people to Dacca to the Dewan for getting a farman, but he asked for Rs.35,000. The French started negotiating with the Dewan. Deslandes was able to get a parwana dated 21 May 1690 to occupy the land supposedly purchased by Duplessis in 1674 and began to construct a house with accommodation and storage. The Dutch complained to the Nawab Ibrahim Khan, the Subadar of Bengal at Dacca. Nawab stopped the construction, but after Gregoire Butet and the Portuguese merchant Cosmo Gomez had represented the case of the French at Dacca the Nawab gave the permission in favour of the French. There was the patta on the other side of the parwana. Deslandes then began the construction again. This was at Borokishenpur which later developed as Chandernagore.

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The building was of two storeys. The upper floor had four rooms for accommodation, while the ground floor had two big halls for visits and inspection of goods. There were also storage facilities, kitchen and other conveniences. There were fourteen rooms in the building which was enclosed by a mud wall. It seems that in 1674, Duplessis had merely made an agreement to buy the land and Deslandes now had to pay fully for the purchase of the same land for which he got a receipt. The Dutch gave costly presents to the Mughal officials at Dacca which failed to stop the purchase and construction. The architect of the building seems to be the Jesuit missionary Fr Duchatz. The French factors in Bengal were facing the problem of hierarchy. There was no clear-cut structure of authority among the French in India. Surat was beset with internal feud and Pondicherry was besieged. Deslandes, therefore, asked the Company to make Bengal supreme or at least independent to take decisions. But the Company did not agree. Deslandes had already been appointed as Director of Bengal for establishing a factory at Siam. Deslandes could understand that a farman and a parwana would be required for doing commerce in peace in Bengal. He had contacted the Dewan Kafayet Khan at Dacca for procuring a farman for the French. The Dewan wanted Rs.35,000–40,000 and wanted an envoy to be sent to the Mughal court. The French claimed that they had no money to give presents. Martin suspected that the Dewan would pocket the amount. Later it was found that it was deposited in the Mughal treasury. Actually, the French in Bengal were not so poor. Some of their ships had brought fund from France and Deslandes could buy taffetas from Qasimbazar and saltpetre from Hughli which he would send to France. But the Mughal Emperor had prohibited the Europeans to buy saltpetre perhaps on the request of the Sultan of Turkey. Deslandes could pay Rs.500 to the Nawab and could put the goods in the warehouse. By January 1691, the construction at Chandernagore was not complete, while Deslandes had started the construction of a factory at Qasimbazar. But then the problem occurred. By March 1691, the English and the Dutch ships blocked the mouth of the Ganges to prevent the movement of French ships. No French ship came to Bengal in 1691 causing financial crisis for the French in Bengal. Deslandes could get a plot of land at Narasingpara at Qasimbazar. It was situated between Qasimbazar and Murshidabad. A house of



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two storeys was constructed with four rooms and a gallery at the upper floor. There were two galleries and a room at each corner at the ground floor. But the problem of the customs duty continued and the officials posted guards at the factory. All movements of goods of the French were stopped en route and the French had to give presents to these officials and guards to let the goods pass. The Dewan wanted a French envoy to go to the Mughal court with him, but the French did not have money to give presents there as done by the Dutch. The French agreed to pay in several instalments to which the Dewan agreed and sent to the Mughal court his trusted officials. After some time, the Dewan informed the French that the Emperor had ordered to issue the farman similar to the one given to the Dutch. The French would have to pay Rs.40,000 in instalments, to which they finally agreed. By the end of 1691, the French in Bengal were in crisis situation. They had no money except some emeralds sent by Pondicherry in 1688. They sold some and managed to buy provisions, but it was not sufficient to maintain the factories and repair the ships. By the end of 1692, the farman was on its way to Bengal. On receiving it, the French would have to pay Rs.10,000 and then would pay Rs.5,000 each year till the final payment. The amount was trivial compared to what the English and the Dutch had paid for their farmans. It was a favour shown to the French by the Mughal court obviously to reduce the Dutch domination. It was clear that the Europeans had shifted their investment from the Western coast to the Eastern coast perhaps due to famine and piracy there. With the advance system prevailing in Bengal, some new groups of middlemen emerged among whom one may cite the name of Jagat Sheth who dominated the Bengal economy during the first half of the eighteenth century. The French in Bengal got two parwana and two farmans in the reigns of the same emperor and the same nawab. The first parwana and farman were issued in 1691–2 and the second in 1695. Deslandes purchased 61 bighas and 2 cottas of land from three zamindars of Borokishenpur at the cost of Rs.40 only. In a letter, he stated that this was the same land that was bought by Duplessis earlier. The deed was registered at the office of the Qazi. On the complaint of the Dutch, the emperor cancelled the farman but on the representation of the dewan he allowed the French to continue the purchase and construction of the buildings. But the problem with

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the Dutch continued. The Dutch garden was too close to the French and there were often disputes between them for the passage. Finally, the French left the 2 cottas of land. Since Balasore was at the mouth of the river that led to Hughli, it may be worthwhile to briefly mention the land purchased by the French there. On 10 November 1686, the French purchased 9 bighas of land at the village of Balasore. The cost of the land was Rs.171 only. The idea was to build a lodge for the benefit of the Company merchants en route. There was a debate in the Company documents since it was stated in one such document that the French had purchased 12 bighas at the cost of Rs.108 only. It seems that it was another piece of land purchased by the French in the same village. The total cost of land comes to Rs.279 only. It appears that Gabriel Pelle, the French merchant working at Balasore, had purchased 3 bighas of land at the cost of Rs.40 only. A few years later he purchased another bigha. A two-storey house was built with rooms, galleries and warehouse. The Dutch had not only blocked the mouth of the river, but also besieged Pondicherry. A French squadron came to Surat with funds, but they did not try to lift the Dutch blockade. Deslandes now began to use the Muslim merchant Muhammad Ghaus to send goods to Surat and get fund. Deslandes wanted Surat to pay Bengal the amount of money for the goods sent. Surat refused and the dispute continued. Deslandes wrote to the Company who pointed out the huge amount of more than 7 lakh Livres received by the French factors of Bengal. But after paying a good amount to Masulipatnam and another amount for three factories along with expenses of two French ships anchored in front of Chandernagore as well as paying advance for goods, nothing much was left. Meanwhile, Pondicherry had capitulated to the Dutch by the end of 1693 and the French merchants there were taken to Bengal by the Dutch ship via Batavia. Deslandes was now using country boats to transport goods to Surat and other places. By 1695, the Dutch blockade was withdrawn but another problem came up that stopped the normal trade altogether. In the middle of 1695, Sobha Singh, a small zamindar of Chandrakona in Midnapur suddenly attacked the zamindar of Burdwan and killed his family excepting a son who was not there then. With money at the treasury of the zamindar he recruited



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Afghan horsemen to plunder different towns of Bengal. But he died soon after and the leadership was taken by his uncle Maha Singh. He recruited more Afghan horsemen and began to plunder Rajmahal, Murshidabad and Malda. To the French, it seemed strange that the Mughal authorities did not take any step to resist him. The rebels tried to go through the Portuguese quarter of Bandel to plunder Hughli. The Portuguese forced them to leave. The rebels then took a different route and reached Hughli. A Dutch warship forced them to withdraw. Meanwhile, the Dutch and the French constructed strong palisades around their factories and constructed bastions on which they placed canons. The rebels then appeared before Chandernagore and began to plunder villages nearby. The French fired cannon shots and a French detachment came out and forced them to retreat. Around 1695, the French got another farman to take bullion to the mint at Rajmahal to convert these into Rupee coins at a nominal cost. The Dewan Kafayet Khan gave a parwana to the mint, but the French never took advantage of this privilege as regretted by Dupleix later. The rebels appeared at Qasimbazar and demanded Rs.2 lakh from the Dutch who remained silent. The rebels then came to the French factory and asked Rs.20,000. The French merchant there, Fonneville, had left at night and after marching seven nights reached Chandernagore where the French had constructed another bastion. They placed some cannons on the bastion. The rebels then whipped two Indian employees and dug underground from where they got money and goods worth Rs.9,000. They also took the goods of private merchants from upper floor. The rebels then appeared before Chandernagore and put fire to the village which the French had taken as ijara. After firing some cannon shots, a French detachment came out and drove the rebels out of the area. Meanwhile Zabardast Khan, son of the Subadar, had crossed the Ganges River with cavalry and infantry. With the help of a local raja, he attacked the rebels at Rajmahal and had dispersed them after killing its commander. The Khan then encamped at Burdwan which was the seat of the rebels. By the end of 1697, Prince Azim-ush-Shan came to Bengal as Subadar of Bengal, Bihar and Orissa. Since the peace of Ryswick, the French were hopeful of normal trade and commerce. But the problem was that the Prince and his

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officials began to extort money from the merchants including the European Companies that created the scarcity of liquid cash. The hoarding of cash was done for the impending civil war after the death of the aged emperor. Surat sent a letter of change, but this could not be cashed due to the strike of the sarafs. Their leader was arrested at Patna and his two sons were imprisoned in Bengal. The only hope for the French was that Fonneville had two meetings with the Prince and could get his nishan, which was a confirmation of the farman. By this, the customs officials were ordered not to stop the French goods for inspection. Yet the problem of fund remained for the French. No merchant would want to give credit to the French and like the situation at Surat the Bengal factors were running into huge debts. In a letter to the Company, Deslandes explained that the weavers were required to change their looms since the French wanted lesser width of textile than those of Dutch and the English. Therefore, the weavers wanted fund for the whole year in advance. Bengal factors had their warehouses full of European goods, but they could not sell these as the merchants did not want to invest at this time of scarcity of cash. The information of the Treaty of Ryswick of 1697 reached Bengal in 1698 and the Company had sent fund and goods by a Portuguese ship that arrived at Goa. The Portuguese carried these to Bengal. Meanwhile, Deslandes had sent a French ship full of goods to France. In 1699, the Company sent two ships to Bengal with goods and fund worth more than three lakh Livres. The amount was spent on part repayment of debts, expenses for three factories and advance given to the merchants. By early February 1700, one ship had left full of goods. But the other ship could sail only a few months later. Deslandes explained to the Company that this was due to the transportation delay of goods from distant places. François Martin explained that in Bengal there were not many rich merchants like those of Surat. As a result, European goods could not be sold easily and goods could be purchased only after the arrival of fund. Then spot purchase had to be done at higher price. Like Deslandes, he asked that enough fund should be sent so that advance for the goods could be given one year in advance like those of the English and the Dutch. But both of them agreed that Bengal is a rich country.



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The French factors in Bengal could not come out of various problems, which aggravated their financial crisis. One of the French ships had brought large quantities of European drapes during the time of Deslandes, which had an easy sale in former days. But this time the English Company had brought huge quantity of such drapes and they were selling at prices lower than those of the French. The French could not sell the drapes as earlier. They then decided to sell the drapes to the Europeans. They could sell most of the drapes to the Europeans at Chandernagore and to the French and the Portuguese at the Danish settlement a few miles below Chandernagore where they had built their houses. With the scarcity of cash, the merchants refused to invest. Du Livier was a better salesman than Deslandes and he could sell some of these drapes. This was the period when the Europeans were looking at the Orient in wonder. The French had contacted a noble and got a rhinoceros and other animals to be sent to France. Earlier they had a rhinoceros that died in the factory. But this time, the animals safely reached France. In August–September 1701, three French ships came to Bengal. The biggest of these three ships had remained at Balasore, while the other two anchored in front of Chandernagore. The French laded one of the smaller ships which left for Pondicherry. A saraf had promised to give a loan of Rs.150,000, but agreed to pay these bills only after the arrival of French ships. The ships had brought more than five lakh Livres, which were nearly spent in part repayment of debts, advance given to the merchants who would deliver the goods in three instalments. To send the other ship to France, the French laded it with mediocre goods at higher prices since the price was rising due to the scarcity of cash. Du Livier remarked that one could not rely on the promise of the people of the country. The French had to make spot purchase at higher prices. This delayed the departure of the ship and Bengal factors explained that the delay was due to the late arrival of goods from distant places. Raghunath Das, one of the principal merchants, had taken an advance from the French of Rs.1 lakh and then had left Hughli. Much later he delivered the goods in several parts. There were other problems. The Prince suddenly left Qasimbazar and had encamped at Rajmahal. He closed the mint and announced

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that the bullion and foreign currency could be converted at his rate. The French could not make any conversion, but could do it through one of the sarafs at higher cost. Finally, the merchants gave presents to the Prince and the mint was opened. In 1700, two ships came from France with fund. Goods were taken to one of the ships by a small boat, which left for Pondicherry where Martin was sent. The Dutch could not do much at Pondicherry due to the Mughal-Maratha War that had devastated the area. Meanwhile, the Company was thinking of retrenchment and asked Deslandes to give a service report. He tried to save the jobs by making a general estimate of good work by all excepting four who were leaving for France. The other ship left for France on 8 December 1700 in which Deslandes had embarked. Deslandes was in India for more than twenty-two years in which he had stayed for more than twelve years in Bengal. As stated earlier, he was the real founder of the French Company in Bengal. Apart from purchasing land for three factories, he had built three factories including one at Balasore. He had also started buying goods at Patna where the customs officials gave enough trouble. He got two farmans and two parwana as well as a nishan from the Prince who was the Subadar. The Prince was asked to withdraw from the province by the emperor but he managed to stay on some pretext. Finally, the order was revoked. Deslandes was succeeded by Du Livier from Qasimbazar where Moisy became the chief. The scarcity of liquid cash due to the hoarding of the Prince and his officials created problems for the French in Bengal. The merchants of the country did not want to supply goods without payment. One of the sarafs, who had done business with the French and had promised to advance Rs.150,000 to them, refused to pay the bill while the French could not cancel the orders given. With great difficulties the French managed to pay some money to some merchants for the supply of goods. The law and order in the province of Bengal had deteriorated. A merchant with his goods was plundered on the way. But greater problem was that numerous toll stations had come up. They would stop the boats and demand money. There were one hundred such stations between Qasimbazar and Chandernagore. The French had to send a boat with armed peons to release one of their boats from



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one such station. The demand of such stations was not uniform. That varied from one to two rupees per bale. By September 1702, the French in Bengal could send back two ships with substantial goods. Although they had to make spot purchase with higher price. Most of their goods ordered at Dacca had not come.

II In December 1701, Murshid Quli Khan came as Dewan of Bengal, Bihar and Orissa. He was received at the border by the envoys of three European Companies with presents which he accepted. He then had gone to Cuttack and Balasore where he met the Prince Azimush-Shan who left after some time for Patna. Dewan came back to Rajmahal where he began to render justice without any regard to rank. The French were impressed. The French had some fund brought by the ship and they began to collect goods from the merchants. They made a contract with Raghunath Das for Rs.2 lakh. He would supply goods in several parts. But he agreed with the higher price. In August 1702, a French traveller named Luillier came to Chandernagore via Balasore to attend the marriage of his cousin to Du Livier. He had described the marriage held on 11 August at the chapel next to the factory. For the next few days, there were dinners and dances even of the Indian dancers which impressed him. He had also given a description of Chandernagore where the buildings of the European employees were coming up at the village of Chak Nasirabad. The French Company had taken the lease of the village from where they got annual revenue of Rs.9 only. The land belonged to two brothers of Rameswar. After his death, his widow sold the land to the French Company in 1729 for Rs.50 only. Luillier stated that the Directors of the European Companies used palanquins with flags flying in front accompanied by three hundred native infantries. The Emperor had permitted this. The French and Portuguese merchants had built their houses in the Danish settlement two miles below Chandernagore. The ship St. Louis was anchored before Chandernagore on 27 October 1702. By then the Emperor had prohibited European commerce in India. Before that the French had no fund as they

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had exhausted the entire amount in sending goods to France. The fund brought by the ship was not enough. They decided to send saltpetre and sugar by this ship. But no merchant agreed to give credit. The French survived since another ship came from Surat with Rs.30, 000. In January 1703, Du Livier informed Paris that they had sent bales of coarse muslin called Salempuri which could be sold at Cadiz to buy bullion. Since the European war had started the French began to store provisions. Their saraf was absent from Hughli since last December. The English and the Dutch were arrested at Patna, Chapra and other places. The Faujdar of Patna had sealed their factories. At Qasimbazar, the French chief had marked goods of the merchants and declared that he was going to retire with his employees. The English and the Dutch tried to flee, but they were arrested on the way. They got their release on payment. Moisy paid Rs.1,100 for relaxation of the order in case of the French. They were permitted to come to Chandernagore. After their departure the Faujdar sealed their factory. The French did not have fund or ample provision. By taking some loans they could give some presents to the Faujdar for not seizing the goods. Yet they were continually pressed for money. The Prince had sent some persons to collect money. The French tried to lade the goods at Balasore at night, but the noise alarmed the officials and they seized the boat. The arrival of St. Louis revived the fallen French credit a little. The fund was not enough, but they were required to pay the saraf Rs.30,000 only for his advance last year. The French now sent this fund to Martin at Pondicherry and tried to bring goods to Hughli from Balasore, Qasimbazar and Dacca. By that time the declaration of war in Europe was confirmed. In April 1702, the French had persuaded two merchants of Bengal to supply goods at their capital and they would be paid with interest after the arrival of the ship. The French could pay one of them with drapes and some money. With the declaration of war, the French could manage to cancel other orders. Even with these difficulties and rising prices the French were able to lade 2,000 maunds of saltpetre in the Ship anchored in front of Chandernagore, viz., St. Louis. Due to the demands of large number of toll stations only a small portion of goods arrived from



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Qasimbazar. Balasore did not have much commerce and silk stuff could not be taken to France. Chandernagore managed to send a ship to Pondicherry full of provisions. By that time, they had exhausted their fund. Since the French had paid Rs.2,000 to the customs officials they hoped that the ship would be allowed to go. The Dewan, however, stopped it. The French could not get any credit due to the scarcity of money for which they blamed the hoarding of the Prince by which the King was losing the revenue. In February 1703, Du Livier could lade the goods of Qasimbazar into the ship St. Louis still waiting. The merchants supplied some goods disregarding prohibition. By then the declaration of war was confirmed which further lowered the credit of the French. The merchants had supplied an assortment of coarse muslin with bigger width which was taken to the ship that left for France with goods worth more than two lakh Livres. Meanwhile, the French learnt from their vakil at Dacca that the Emperor had revoked his order of prohibition of European commerce in India. The Prince and the Dewan asked Rs.80, 000 from the Europeans. The French informed them that they did not have the fund to pay. The French informed Paris that they were living in pain for their daily expenses. Within another month the financial situation of the French worsened. Du Livier wrote to Paris that without help it would be difficult for them to live. Climate was also against them. In January, the French physician of the factory died. Internal bickering within the factory became acute. Dufer wrote to Paris of the group politics of Du Livier who was persecuting senior people. Gabriel Pelle who came to Bengal in 1686 also sent complaints against Du Livier who was however made Director General with higher salary of 3,000 Livres per year. The Dewan Murshid Quli Khan had come to Murshidabad and began to extort money from the merchants to send the amount to the Emperor to help him in his war against the Marathas. Two big merchants Mathura Das and Ballav Das had lost money in taking ijara from the King. Mathura Das was arrested for non-payment of instalments. His son came to get his release with some amount of money. But the Dewan wanted full payment of dues. The son suggested that the French had not paid them their dues. The Dewan sent troops to the French factory to force them to pay. It is strange that

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the Dewan had sent troops without verification. Nothing happened to the French. Mathura Das was released after making considerable payment. In August 1703, the Prince and the Dewan issued order that customs duties should be paid at Qasimbazar for the purchase of goods from the area since it was given ijara to a merchant. The new English Company left. The Dutch were ready to go. The French stated that if forced they would abandon the factory. The French through a friend pacified the Dewan and nothing happened since. The scarcity of money and the oppression of the Prince continued for the country merchants. The Prince called Cosmo Gomez and imprisoned him. Gomez had closely worked with the French. He was released after he had paid considerable amount of money. The French blamed both the Prince and the Dewan for this terrible situation. Once again, the French in Bengal had no fund. Fortunately for them the widow of Le Brun had some precious stones which the French factors could sell for more than Rs.13,000 out of which they should pay to the widow Rs.5,500. This they did not pay then. After paying some amount to the Saraf for his advance last year they gave order for 77 bales of textile from Qasimbazar and other places by which they exhausted their fund once again. A panicky Du Livier had sold a French ship in November 1703 for Rs.19,000. In January 1704, Du Livier wrote to Paris that without help they would not be able to survive. By that time a racial tone had come into the French system. A French employee had married a widow of a pilot. He was promptly sacked by the Company. Such attitude of the Company was not seen at Madagascar earlier as well as in case of a French clerk marrying a Portuguese woman. No regulation of the Company is extant on this kind of marriage. The French were saved for the moment, but it was becoming difficult for them to survive in Bengal. At the end of the year after stopping all commercial operations Du Livier informed Paris that they were living in extreme misery. He also threatened that without any help in a few weeks they would abandon the factory. In 1703, a French squadron came to India that increased the spirit of the Bengal factors. But they did not bring any fund. Pondicherry sent some goods to Bengal from a captured English ship but it did



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not improve the situation of the Bengal factors. In January 1704 two boats came to Bengal from Pondicherry with some goods but Bengal needed considerable fund. Bengal factors did not see any light at the end of the road. Moreover, the faujdar of Hughli was pressing the French for presents as per last year. Bengal avoided this as in that case presents had to be given to five other persons. The Prince had gone to Patna and had imposed a tax on all manufactures which would ultimately fall on Bengal factors. The general merchants were unwilling to invest at this time. The arrival of a French squadron in India revived the French credit to an extent but they did not bring any fund. The French also blamed the Dewan for dispatching coins to the Emperor at the Deccan. The French had stopped purchasing goods from Qasimbazar due to problem of customs. They did not have any parwana from the Dewan permitting them to buy at reduced customs duties. Du Livier wrote to the Company to take them away. The only way for the French was to sell European goods at lower price. By the middle of January 1705, the French learnt that the Emperor had permitted the Europeans to start commerce at Surat. They hoped that now they would get fund as the French ships could come to Surat. Du Livier planned to post factors in different French factories in Bengal in which he gave some emphasis on Qasimbazar since the mint was then at Murshidabad. But no ship came and the monsoon passed. The scarcity of fund created bickering within the factory. The serious criticism of Pelle on the activities of Du Livier created division within the factors in Bengal. Pelle died in March 1703. Du Livier forwarded the papers to the Company. While starvation was staring at Pondicherry and Bengal from which fortune saved the French. Pondicherry had captured a rich Dutch ship which they sent to Bengal along with a small ship St. Louis. Du Livier did lade the Dutch ship with goods worth one lakh Livres. This ship would go to Pondicherry and quickly come back. The small ship laden with goods would go to France. The two ships left in September and anchored at Khejuri Island till October. Two Dutch ships attacked them, but the bigger Dutch ship could come back to Chandernagore. Du Livier complained to the Dewan and the Qazi who started a case. The Dutch complained to the Prince that the French had seized one of their

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ships in the Mughal territory. The French complained to the Prince and the Mughal Emperor. But it was normal to spend some money which the French did not want to spend. From the money found in the captured Dutch ship the French had made part payments to the creditors, ordered the merchants to supply assortment of textiles like Muslin and keep some amount for their maintenance. The French had the problem with the customs officials of Bengal and Patna. They needed a parwana from the Dewan permitting them to do commerce with reduced duties. The Dewan wanted Rs.15,000 but the French did not want to pay more than Rs.8,000. They sent Gregoire Butet, who knew Persian language, to the Dewan who remained adamant. The French then sent an Armenian merchant who was close to the Dewan with the promise to pay Rs.4,000 only. The Armenian told the Dewan that the French had rescued some Mughal subjects from an island during the revolt of Sobha Singh. The Dewan agreed to issue a parwana at a reduced rate. The French also insisted that this amount should not be recorded in the book of the treasury for not creating a precedent. Meanwhile the prices were rising by 20 per cent due to the huge purchase by the Dutch. They bought 6,000 maunds of saltpetre. The Dutch blockade continued and the French had to sell some goods destined for France. They discharged some native guards and kept only Indian clerks. Many French were sent to Pondicherry. Du Livier was aware of the contradiction. The Company wanted quick loading and unloading but would reduce the manpower. As usual the French in Bengal were in a crisis situation due to lack of fund. But they never seriously thought of leaving the factory. Meanwhile the Church of Chandernagore was in turmoil. Since the death of Fr Quencin, Fr Baudre had taken charge. Fr Solas spoke against Fr Baudre and many priests supported him. The Company stopped the allowance of Rs.200 to the Church. Still Fr Baudre could amass Rs.700 and he requested Fr Tachard who was driven out of Siam to arrange matters. Finally, Fr Solas relented and withdrew his accusations. François Martin sent Jean Samuel de Labat from Pondicherry to Bengal and the latter managed to pacify the merchants. Martin died soon after and Du Livier was appointed at Pondicherry. He left Bengal in September 1706. The Company sent Francois de Flacourt



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to Bengal as Director with a salary of 2,000 Livres per year which would rise to 3,000 Livres per year for the remainder of his tenure of service. He arrived in 1708 with his family.

III The Company now decided to reduce expenses. They abolished the general Table of the Company and gave subsidy allowance per month to each employee according to their rank: Flacourt would get Rs.100 during peace time; the two merchants Labat and de la Blancheterie would get Rs.30; the under-merchants would get Rs.24; the clerks would get Rs.18. Even the peons and the priest would get the allowance. The inactivity of the Bengal factory continued during peace time as well. They lacked fund. Flacourt sold some goods found in the captured Dutch ship. Meanwhile, there were complaints against Laurent at Balasore and he was replaced by Boyer. The information came that a French ship was grounded in the shifting sand bank of the Ganges due to the fault of the Captain of the ship. A small boat was sent to recover the goods and rescue the crew. Flacourt left service of the Company in early 1711. He was replaced by Hardancourt who was a member of the Superior Council of Pondicherry. He immediately faced a problem. Diya-al Din Khan was the Faujdar of Hughli and Admiral of the seaports of Coromandel Coast. The Dewan Murshid Quli dismissed him and had appointed Wali Beg Khan as Faujdar. Diya-al Din entrenched in the plains of Chandernagore. The Augustine priests of Bandel organized an army to support Wali Beg Khan. Both parties wanted the help of the European Companies. It is not clear whether Hardancourt had given some help to Wali Beg. But he surrounded Chandernagore with a ditch and a strong barricade. Historian Abdul Karim stated that the European Companies were not involved. This was part of the civil war among the Mughal royal family members for the throne. But this did not improve the situation of the French in Bengal. Finally, the Dewan appointed Abu Taleb as Faujdar in place of Wali Beg. Bengal factors were in a critical situation. They did not have fund for subsistence. Hardancourt wrote to the Company that if no fund

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was received, they would have to abandon the factories. Fortunately, Pondicherry sent Piastras brought from Southeast Asia. But Bengal factors could not change these into rupees at a reduced rate since they had not renewed the farman. On 30 August 1713, three ships of St Malo merchants led by Duchemain Girard appeared on the Ganges as per their contract with the Company. They would not pay for the goods here nor would they pay the customs duties. This was the appearance of the French ships in Bengal after a gap of ten years. The creditors immediately pressed for the repayment of their debts. Hardancourt persuaded them to wait for another two years since they could only be paid from the profit. But the customs officials were adamant. They wanted payment of duties at the rate of 4 per cent instead of 2.5 per cent. They complained to the dewan and the French sent a person to the dewan to explain their position. Finally, the dewan allowed the French to pay at the old rate. But the French had no fund for their subsistence. They contacted their saraf who had worked with them for many years. He changed the Piastres at a higher rate and took Rs.40,000 as repayment of part of his debts despite the protests of the French. The French could not do anything since the saraf had considerable influence in the Government and the French had no force at Chandernagore. The French did not have any money for their living expenses. A number of Frenchmen with their families began to beg in the streets for bread. Hardancourt reported to Pondicherry that it was a dishonour for the French. He took a loan of Rs.8,000 from Duchemain for current expenses. Although commerce started at a grand scale there was no money for subsistence for the French in Bengal. The loan would be repaid in France. The St Malo merchant would take all the advantages of the infrastructure but would not pay for its running. The revenue of Chandernagore was too small to make it operational. Two ships arrived at Balasore on 2 July 1714 with 50,000 Piastres to buy goods under Grangemont who had earlier worked for the Company at Surat. The small ship came before Chandernagore on 15 July. Hardancourt declared that this ship belonged to the Company but the St Malo merchants informed the customs officials that this belonged to a private company. Now the creditors began to give pressure for their repayment of debts and the customs officials imposed the rate of custom duty at 4 per cent instead of the lower rate given to the Company. The creditors wanted the French officers



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to be arrested and the customs officials put guards on the factory. Hardancourt managed to persuade the creditors to wait for the return of the ships and asked a loan from Grangemont which he refused. The latter left the factory and took a rented house which he made into a factory by employing four hundred people with higher salaries. Hardancourt negotiated with the superior officer of the Company of Grangemont and finally the new factory was pulled down. Hardancourt also appealed to the Dewan for the payment of the old rate of 2.5 per cent, which was allowed by the dewan by issuing a parwana that has not been found so far. It is clear that the Mughal authorities had shown considerable favour to the French. The loan was a temporary solution. The French did not have living expenses. Hardancourt declared that if no fund would come by the return of vessels, they would be forced to abandon the factory. The two ships left for France in October 1714. Another small ship came before Chandernagore on 12 July 1714. Grangemont immediately informed the custom officials that it was the ship of a private company. The custom officials imposed the duty of 4 per cent. The dewan intervened and the old rate was allowed. Fr Baudre was able to settle with the Capuchins. He now wanted two priests for the Church of Chandernagore. But the Superior Council of Pondicherry objected and advised one priest to be called almoner or chaplain. Meanwhile, Fr Baudre had appointed Brillon as priest. Pondicherry asked Baudre to cancel the appointment and further suggested that an employee would replace him. The small ship was ready to leave for Persia with a cargo of Rs.15,000 of a company and another cargo of Rs.21,000 of the private merchants as freight. The creditors now wanted part of their debts to be paid and they complained to the Subadar who asked them to wait for the return of the ship. Grangemont stayed at Bengal after the departure of the ships and collected goods worth 25,000 ECU for himself. He was looking for a small ship to send these goods to France but got interested in other matters as stated by Hardancourt in a letter of 1715. In August 1715, two ships came to Bengal under the charge of Dudemaine who took the English pilot since the French did not have a pilot. Since then the English forbade their pilots to board vessels excepting their own.

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The two ships brought one lakh ECU with which Hardancourt paid part of the debts. The Hindus suffered a loss of 25 per cent while for the Christians it was a loss of 15 per cent. The Hindus and the Christians agreed. The racial trend was arriving in the French system. But Jagat Sheth refused. The French did not want to force the issue since Sheth had considerable influence in the court. After much persuasion and pleading he agreed to receive Rs.27,000. The French were required to pay to the Jesuit Fathers who refused any reduction. They were finally persuaded to accept. Hardancourt now tried to get a farman from the new Emperor and contacted the Dewan. They also contacted the French physician Martin who was the physician of the Emperor and was known to Hebert of Pondicherry. After a time, Martin reported that he had made much progress and he had incurred some expenses. The Dewan reported that the farman would be available for Rs.40,000. The French would pay Rs.10,000 on receiving it and pay Rs.5,000 every year till the final payment. The conditions were similar to the farman issued by Aurangzeb earlier to the French. Two Jesuit priests died in 1714. There was an unconfirmed suspicion that they were poisoned by the Portuguese Augustine priests of Bandel. In Bengal, six priests died between 1695 and 1712, and in 1715, Laynes died. This terminated the mission of Barbier in Bengal. Hardancourt and de la Blancheterie jointly purchased land in the village of Borokishenpur from Abdul Bari and Shaikh Ahmed in February 1715. This had a mosque, a garden and a pond. They excluded 12 bighas of land, which was kept for the maintenance of the guardian of the mosque. This was purchased from the persons who had bought these under the name of Rajaram, brother of Indranarayan Choudhury who later became the Dewan of the French Company. The French purchased the plot in the village for Rs.825. This did not include the core areas of zamindar Rajaram. The tax of the plot was Rs.985. This may suggest that the scramble for land had not yet started. In 1720, the widows of Hardancourt and Blancheterie sold these lands to the Company. The principal problem of Hardancourt was to be on friendly terms with fellows of St Malo. These were young fellows and they looked with disdain to the senior employees of the Company as well as to the



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Mughal officials with whom Hardancourt was on very good terms. But the young fellows of St Malo disregarded the senior employees of the Company and often insulted then. According to Hebert of Pondicherry, the fellows of St Malo were not honest and they regarded the Mughal officials as Negos. Their loud songs and laughter within the factory could be heard from the Chapel. Hardancourt now wanted to go back to France with his family which was accorded by the Company. Hardancourt asked for a passage in a ship of St Malo, but the Captain of the ship refused to take him. Meanwhile, information arrived at the Bengal factory that the farman of the Emperor Farukhsiyar sealed by the Grand Wazir Abdulla Jafar Jung had arrived in Bengal. However, Hardancourt died on 28 November 1717 before receiving the farman. The French would have to pay Rs.10,000 and Rs.1,000 as presents and pay Rs.5,000 every year till the final payment. The French would pay 2.5per cent as duty to the customs. Even the French private merchants would pay the same. This was similar to those of the English and the Dutch. Blancheterie became the temporary chief of the factory. In the beginning, he was silent but later he began to speak openly against the people of St Malo. He was a writer of the Company for more than two decades. Now he was given the charge of giving justice to those people who were living under the French flag. He had taken a Portuguese mystic as interpreter. A ship of Martin carrying the French physician of the Mughal emperor met with an accident in the Ganges. Over this there followed a heated conversation between Manuel Vicera (the Portuguese mystic interpreter) and the captain of the ship. Vicera struck him with a cane. Blancheterie tried to stop him but he failed. He lodged a complaint to the Company for which he was insulted by the St Malo people. The wife of Martin also lodged a complaint. It was not clear to many why this Portuguese who was earlier so docile had become so violent and aggressive now on the encouragement of the people of St Malo. Naturally this depressed the employees of the Company who had worked through suffering and privation. Most of them did not have much money for their wives and children. Even the wife of Hardancourt had to ask assistance from Pondicherry for her and her four infants then in Bengal. It is strange that a Company starting with blessing of Colbert and Louis XIV had come to such a pass so soon. For this, one may

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blame the European wars and the Dutch blockade on the mouth of the Ganges preventing the movement of the French ships. But there were other elements in France, which made this situation possible to which I would now briefly turn.

IV The first venture of the Company formed in 1664 for commerce in the East was at Madagascar where the French establishment was obliterated in 1674. Two years later, an accident brought a ship of the Company to Bengal. Between 1680 and 1700, the Company had been able to purchase land in Bengal and Balasore and to construct factories. Due to European wars and the Dutch blockade at Balasore, the Bengal factors could not do much commerce. There were huge debts of the Company. Yet the letter patent of the Company was renewed in 1715. The financial situation of the government of France was not good. The treasury had only five million Livres. Under such a situation, the Company in France had sold commercial rights to the merchants of St Malo who did not pay for the infrastructure, but took goods and made enormous profit. Murshid Quli Khan, the dewan, favoured the French with lower customs duties and the arrival of the farman of Farukhsiyar, the Mughal Emperor, helped both the Company and the French private merchants to pay lower customs duties. However, all such maritime commercial Companies did not suffer. The French Company of Senegal after its failure in 1709 was led to prosperity by Jacques Duval who made much money in the Spanish Succession war. In such situation, new enterprisers were coming up who did not have much experience in maritime commerce. Such a new enterpriser was Jean Law, a Scotsman. In September 1715, he gave a proposal to the Regent. Law wrote that he would absorb all maritime commercial companies into one new company to be called Company of Occident. The new company would arrange for agricultural production as well as other manufactures. There would be a Royal Bank with several million Livres as capital and would be based on public subscription. The proposal for setting up a bank was nothing new. Louis XIV had stopped it before his death and now Regent stopped it. But in October 1716, Law was given a



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letter patent to set up a private bank. It did not succeed as expected since the public subscription did not come. On 4 March 1718, a new share was issued by Law for twenty-five million Livres and the farming of the tax on tobacco was given to him in the same year. It was hoped that the debt of the government would be liquidated in twenty-five years. The involvement of the government did not bother Law as he considered it as a right start. The financial situation of the Company had improved. In December 1718, the private bank was made a royal bank. It came under the protection of the Duke of Orleans with increased public confidence. The Edict of Reunion was published on 23 March 1719. It assigned the monopoly of commerce in the Indian Ocean from Cape of Good Hope to Japan as well as in the South Seas to the Company of Occident called by others as System of Law. The suppressed companies opposed the System. The Parliament appointed Commissioners to hear their representations. The merchants of St Malo opposed it. The Company of Occident changed its name to the Company of the Indies, thus suppressing the earlier company formed in 1664. Ultimately, the opposition collapsed. The new Company wanted to liquidate the debts of the old Company and to compensate the shareholders. The new Company added some more geographical areas under its operation and got the right to use the royal bank. They purchased some ships and constructed ships in different ports of France from 350 tons to 600 tons. An estimate of 1724 suggested that the Company had 75 ships of which 57 were in service during the two years of the existence of the System of Law. He sent 9 voyages to the South Seas, 9 to the territories beyond the Cape of Good Hope, 3 to China, 13 to Senegal and Guinea, and 21 to Louisiana. The principal strength of the Company was its huge resources and the principal weakness was the speculation of its shares. At this time, the price of the share increased considerably. St Malo merchants used to do commerce of exchange with precious metals with Spanish America. The Peace of Utrecht stopped it in Europe. Law wanted to bring gold from China in exchange of American silver which was rare in China. He would then import this gold to India for which they tried smuggling operations in China.

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They hoped that this would help them to liquidate the debts of the old Company. The Company also purchased three more ships for the voyages in the Pacific and fitted these as warship. All these and the tremendous number of voyages cost the Company huge expenses. These voyages required cash and by early 1720, Law had exhausted the cash limit of the bank. The bank then printed notes that led to the fall of the value of share. The public got detached and there were fights within the Company between two groups. Anarchical condition prevailed within the Company. The Regent managed to reconcile the two groups. Law now tried to reorganize the Company by selling old ships as well as provisions from different stores kept in different parts of France. The failure of Louisiana also contributed to this. The cashier fled to Brandenburg with 13 million Livres. They could sell some goods brought from India by the merchants of St Malo in 1719, but the Company got only one-tenth of the value of goods sold due to the treaty with the merchants of St Malo. The company was reorganized between 1721 and 1723. The State appointed Commissioners to liquidate the System of Law. The new directors and personnel were appointed balancing the two groups. They continued the voyages in small scale. The Company sent several ships to India which gave them a good profit. An estimate of 1724 stated that the expenses were eight million Livres, while the income was 17 million Livres. Similar voyages were sent to Senegal and other places. The Commissioners had destroyed their records, but the classic study by Philippe Haudrere gave us the idea. The System of Law lasted only two years between 1719 and 1720. In the second decade of the eighteenth century, the Company of St Malo had begun to send funds and liquidate the debts. The French trade had picked up to a certain extent. But it was the system of Law that brought sufficient funds to start operations at two levels— France–India and coastal trade. The system of Law had failed by 1723 as no ship had come back to France and the Company was turned into a commercial one, which, properly speaking, began operations from 1723 onwards, liquidating the debts both in France and in India, excepting the debt of Surat factory. In looking at the survey of French activities during the 1720s, especially from the viewpoints of Pondicherry and Chandernagore,



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certain trends emerge. One finds a repetition of the story of lack of funds and the problems arising out of such aspects. The problem of the payment of goods already ordered to the merchants easily took top priority in both Pondicherry and Chandernagore. It is true that investments were increasing with the increasing funds from Europe and West Asia, but at the same time, demand for the increased quantity of goods also showed an upward trend, which served to fill up the increasing number of ships arriving in India from Europe. Naturally, Pondicherry fell on the expedient of greater coastal trading, in which the participation of the employees was becoming a sine qua non to get the investment that in turn would generate funds, thus taking the French coastal trading to an unprecedented height, undertaken often in defiance of Paris. In this system, Pondicherry gradually took the centre stage for no obvious reason since the Bengal factory had greater potential to get the goods and the loan—a fact that Dupleix had realized immediately and had cashed on it. A comparison between the two enclaves, as seen earlier, showed that Chandernagore had a greater number of European and Armenian merchants. The fiat of Paris to declare Pondicherry as the seat of the Superior Council in India and their supercilious behaviour had left resentment of Bengal factory that flared up later under Dupleix’s regime. Only the gun-boat diplomacy at Mahe that opened the pepper trade of Malabar, with Surat showing signs of becoming normal, justified the strategic position of Pondicherry to a certain extent. But with the decline of West Asian markets, which had prompted the Company to locate the headquarters at Pondicherry, and with the emergence of Manila, China and Acheh—not to speak of Pegu—Bengal should have been made the new headquarters, whose production and supply had practically remained immune to outside interference so long as Jafar Khan had lived. In a way, the change and continuity of the French trading pattern remained its basic feature until Dupleix had exploded it all.

References Banga, Indu, The City in Indian History: Urban Demography, Society, and Politics, New Delhi: South Asia Publications, 1991. Bernier, François, Travels in the Mogul Empire, ed. A. Constable, repr., New Delhi: S. Chand, 1972.

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Bernier, François, Memoir of March 10, 1668, tr. and ed. Aniruddha Ray, Calcutta, 1990. Challe, Robert, Journal d’un Voyage fait aux Indes Orientales, 2 vols., Paris, 1983. Charpentier, Relation de l’etablissement de la Compagnie Francaise pour le commerce des Indes Orientales, Paris, 1665. Das Gupta, Ashin, Indian Merchants and the Decline of Surat, c.1700–1750, Weisbaden: Franz Steiner, 1979. D’Souza, Florence, Quand la France Decouvrit l’Inde, Paris: L’Harmattan, 1995. Flacourt, Etienne de, Relation de Voyage, Paris, 1658. Fosse, H.C. des, La Boullaye Le Gouz, Angers, 1891. Froidevaux, Henry, Les Sources Documentaire de l’Histoire de premier etablissement de la Compagnie des Indes, published in Academie des Sciences Coloniales, Paris, 1933. Gaebele, Y.R. Une Parisienne aux Indes au XVIIe siècle, Paris, 1937. Gouz, Francois de la Boullaye le, Voyages et les Observations, Paris, 1653. Grandidier, Alfred, Collection des Ouvrages Anciens concernant Madagascar, 10 vols., Paris: Comité de Madagascar, 1905. Hammond, W., Madagascar and Its People, London, 1643. Haudrère, Philippe, La Compagnie Française des Indes au XVIII siècle, 1719–1795, 4 vols., Paris: Librarie de l’Inde Éditeur, 1989. Haye, Admiral La, Journal des Voyages des Grandes Indes, 2 parts, Paris: Robert & Nicolas Pepie, 1698. Hill, S.C., Three Frenchmen in Bengal, London, 1903. Histoire Generale des Voyages, New Edition, Paris, 1947. Hosten, Reverend, ‘Registers of the Church of Chandernagore’, Revue Historique de l’Inde Francaise, Pondicherry, 1919. Habib, Irfan, ‘The Monetary System and Prices’, in The Cambridge Economic History of India, ed. Irfan Habib and Tapan Roychoudhury, vol. 1, New Delhi: Cambridge University Press, 1982, pp, 360–81. Jain, K., ‘French Settlements in India’, in Reminiscences, The French in India, New Delhi: INTACH and the French Embassy, 1997. Jhosson, H., La Mission du Bengale Occidentale, 2 vols., Bruges, 1921. Kaeppelin, Paul, La Compagnie des Indes et Francois Martin, Paris: A. Challamel, 1908. Karim, Abdul, Murshid Quli Khan and His Times, Dacca: Asiatic Society of Pakistan, 1963. Luillier, Lagondier, Voyage, Paris, 1715. Malleson, G.B., History of the French in India, 1909, repr., New Delhi, 1984. Malotet, Arthur, Etienne de Flacourt ou les origins de Colonisation Francaise a Madagascar, 1646–1667, Paris: Ernest Leroux, Éditeur, 1898. Martin, François, Memoires, 3 vols., Paris: Bibliotheque d’ Histoire Coloniale, 1931–4.



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Martin de Vitre, Francois, Description du Voyage fait aux Indes Orientales par les Francaises en l’an 1603, Paris: Chez Laurens Sonnius, 1604. Mauro, Frederick, L’Expansion Europeene, 1600–1870, Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1964. Mitra, Ramesh Chandra, ‘In Eighteenth Century French India Faujdari Rule of Punishment’, Itihas, pt. IV, 1952. Morineau, Michel, Les Grandes Compagnies des Indes Orientales, XVIe–XIXe siècle, Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1994. Prakash, Om, The Dutch East India Company and the Economy of Bengal, 1630–1720, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1985. Prakash, Om and Denys Lombard, ed., Commerce and Culture in the Bay of Bengal, 1500–1800, New Delhi: Manohar, 1999. Ray, Aniruddha, Adventurers, Landowners and Rebels, Bengal, c.1575–c.1715, New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal, 1998. ———,  The Merchant and the State: The French in India, 1666–1739, New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal, 2004. Ray, Charu Chandra, ‘Echoes from Old Chandernagore’, Bengal Past and Present, vol. 1, July–December 1908. ———,  ‘Notes of the Headquarter of the French at Hughli’, Bengal Past and Present, vol. 7, 1911. Ray, Indrani, ‘Primary Stage of Chandernagore’, Jijnasa, 1981. ———,  ‘The French Company and the Merchants of Bengal’, in The French East India Company and the Trade of the Indian Ocean: A Collection of Essays by Indrani Ray, ed. L. Subramanium, New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal, 1999. Rennefort, Urbaine Souchou de, Histoire des Indes Orientales, The Hague, 1668. Ronciere, Charles de, ‘Les Precurseurs de la Compagnie des Indes Orientales’, Revue de l’Histoire des Colonies Francaises, vol. VII, 1919. Sarkar, Jadunath, ed. History of Bengal, Dacca: The University of Dacca, 1948. Schouten, Gautier, Voyage aux Indes Orientales, 1658–1665, 2 vols., Amsterdam, 1757. Sen, S.P., The French in India, Calcutta: University of Calcutta, 1947. Sheth, Harihar, A brief Introduction to Chandernagore, Chandernagore, 1963. Sinha, N.K., The Economic History of Bengal—From Plassey to the Permanent Settlement, 3 vols., Calcutta: Firma K.L. Mukhopadhyay, 1981. Weber, Henry, La Compagnie Francaise des Indes, 1604–1875, Paris: A. Rousseau, 1904.

6 The VOC in Bengal in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries Rila Mukherjee

T

Introduction

his essay traces the activities of the Dutch East India Company (VOC) in Bengal from the early seventeenth century against a backdrop of momentous changes in the Indian Ocean and South Asia. It continues the story until the takeover of Chinsurah and other Dutch settlements by the English East India Company (EIC) in 1825, underlining not only the VOC’s lead strength in the seventeenth-century Bengal trade, but also the rise of the EIC from about mid-century, a position from which it would challenge VOC’s pre-eminence in eighteenth-century Bengal. Om Prakash had divided VOC’s trade into three phases of 1600–80, 1680–1740 and 1740–1800.1 The first period saw Bengal’s initial opening up to VOC trade, but the Coromandel and Gujarat coasts remained the front runners. The ports of Pipli and Balasore were significant during this phase as VOC’s entry points into Bengal and Patna. The second period saw Bengal, now accessible through the Hooghly River, emerging as the lead region and the VOC, based at Hooghly, becoming the chief European player. The third period, when the VOC settlement at Chinsurah was focal, saw the EIC emerging as the stronger of the two companies. The 1740s are the crucial transformative period in this scheme, but I will argue that the changeover—the beginnings of VOC’s decline and EIC’s



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ascendancy—can be pushed back to the 1730s or brought into the 1790s instead.

Historiography A short detour on Dutch-Asia studies will not be out of place before the commencement of this essay. Works on VOC-Asia relations have been comparatively few.2 To be sure, there was the overarching study of the Dutch seaborne empire by Charles Boxer in 1965,3 but the initial stimulus to studies of VOC and Dutch-Indian Ocean trade that was pioneered by the likes of Jacob Cornelius Van Leur (1955), Kristof Glamann (1958) and Marie Antoinette Petronella MeilinkRoelofsz (1962), tapered off in the last century, although Femme Simon Gaastra published his book on the VOC in 2003.4 Markus Vink and Jos Gommans continue to work on Dutch archival resources on South Asia and, in the case of Vink, also on seventeenth-century Dutch-Asian interactions, focusing on peninsular India.5 Neither works on Bengal. Curiously, instead of emphasizing the Dutch ‘imperial’ past, or even Dutch-Asia circulations, the Institute of History at Leiden University, the foremost and oldest university in The Netherlands, emphasizes Europe-Asia interactions and has a Professorship of History of Global Economic Networks. Thus I have the volume titled Exploring the Dutch Empire, edited by Catia Antunes and Jos Gommans in 2015.6 Sadly, a chapter on Dutch Bengal does not feature within it. In tune with this pan-European orientation, there is also the Forum on European Expansion and Global Interaction (FEEGI) that operates in partnership with Leiden University. In addition, Leiden University’s Institute for History publishes the journal Itinerario which for over thirty years has provided a platform for scholars researching the history of European expansion in the context of colonialism between 1500 and 1950. Surprisingly, given the fact that the VOC’s chief arm of trade was with Bengal, no intensive studies of VOC-Bengal interactions, or indeed of Dutch-Bengal interactions, were undertaken at Leiden. The Institute’s maritime historian Leonard Blusse, currently Professor Emeritus in the History of European-Asian Relations, focused his

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work on East Asia. Within India, however, Dutch-Bengal interactions were not neglected. Kalikinkar Datta, although without using Dutch sources, pioneered studies on the Dutch in Bengal.7 A prominent historian working with Dutch sources on South Asia, closely affiliated with Leiden University, is Professor Om Prakash, formerly affiliated to the Delhi School of Economics in India. His multiple publications throw light on the structure of Dutch trade in maritime Asia, on VOC operations in India and on the history of the Dutch factories in Bengal.8 This chapter acknowledges his work.

The Varying Fortues of the Major European Companies in Bengal The VOC or the Verenigde Oostindische Compagnie, as the Dutch East India Company was known in The Netherlands, lasted less than two hundred years (197 years). It was established in 1602 and liquidated in 1799, already having been nationalized in 1796 after the financially disastrous (for the Dutch) Fourth Anglo-Dutch War that lasted from 1780 to 1784 in Europe. That war had serious repercussions on Dutch colonial possessions. The English reduced by half the number of VOC ships, took a great deal of its valuable cargo and lessened its political power in Asia. The conflict’s direct cost to the VOC has been calculated at 43 million gulden, a sum that reduced its assets by 1784 to zero.9 The longer lasting English Company (the EIC that one refers to today was actually a merger of the Old and New Companies carried out in 1709), on the other hand, was established in 1600 and was dissolved only in 1858, lasting 258 years. Initially much poorer in resources and manpower than the VOC, it operated as a secondary power throughout the seventeenth century. Seventeenth-century English hydrographers owed much to the Dutch nomenclature of the new places that were mapped, and to Dutch hydrography and navigation in the Indian Ocean.10 But, by a strategy of associating private capital and trade with its official trade, with English ship captains filling in the gaps in the ‘country trade’ of Asia from the 1670s, the EIC established itself as the most important European power in Bengal by the 1730s.11 The fiscal capacity of the EIC and its relations with the Crown were other important factors in promoting its growth.12



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The French Compagnie des Indes under its various guises was another player, the shortest-lived among the three major companies, lasting from 1664, through its reorganization in 1719, until its liquidation in 1794 (130 years). Plagued by a shortage of funds, it was marked by infighting among company officials and the shortsightedness of their superiors in France. These factors reverberated at Pondicherry, the company’s headquarters in India, and at Chandernagore in Bengal, its most important settlement. The varying fortunes and the shifting centres of the company—Rouen, St. Malo, Paris, Nantes, Brest and Lorient—impacted on the company’s fortunes in Asia, whereas the EIC and VOC operated from single bases—London and Amsterdam, respectively—although the VOC was in fact a combination of commercial organizations in various cities of Holland and Zeeland. But due to their centralized nature, both companies moved unitarily compared to the fractious French Company when dealing with Asian polities and commercial rivals. However, between the 1730s–40s, under Dupleix’s leadership, the French company appeared as a commercial rival, dispatching the VOC to the position of the third-most important power in Bengal. The Danish Company’s shipping tonnage grew 500 times from 1731–40 to 1781–90 (see Table 6.1), but compared to the three major companies, it was never a serious contender in the overall Bengal trade, being based at Tranquebar and concentrating on its Coromandel networks.

The VOC The VOC became a powerful force in The Netherlands once it was established. It played an important part in the development of the TABLE 

6.1:  European Tonnage to East Asia

Period

English Dutch Portuguese French Danes

1631–40 1681–90 1731–40 1781–90

31,179 63,970 47,8791 30,849 67,880 280,035 228,315 243,424

20,020 3,000 4,000 11,650 17,500 4,000 13,200 53,891 12,267 8,250 130,490 63,461

Source : Based on Jan De Vries, ‘Connecting Europe and Asia: a quantitative analysis of the Cape-route trade, 1497–1795’, in Global Connections and Monetary History, 1470–1800, ed. D.O. Flynn et al., Aldershot: Ashgate, 2003, pp. 46–9.

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Amsterdam Beurs, or the stock exchange. Between 1602 and 1622, the Company paid dividends of 200 per cent on an irregular schedule, or 10 per cent per year, which was well below the expectations of many early investors. But the Company’s creation of a permanent capital fund in Asia was one of the key reasons for its later success. By 1650, the accumulated dividends plus the capital gains from increased share prices would have returned thirteen times an original investment or an average total return of 27 per cent. After 1650, investors’ returns averaged a more modest 4.0 to 3.5 per cent annually, which was close to the return on government bonds at the time.13 In 1619, the company named Jan Pieterz. Coen GovernorGeneral of the VOC with both economic and political power in Asia. He established the permanent headquarters of the VOC at Batavia (present Jakarta in Java, Indonesia). From the first, the VOC was a major force in the intra-Asian trade, a trade that was designated by the English as ‘country trade’. This allowed the VOC to pay for a good deal of its Asian exports with the profits from its Asiatic trade. After rapid growth during its first four decades, the VOC reached a period of relative stability at a high level in the 1640s and continued to grow more modestly until the 1670s, when, as has been acknowledged, the VOC became the paramount European commercial and political force in the eastern Indian Ocean. In the words of the Dutch poet Joost van den Vondel (1639), the Dutch followed the motto: ‘wherever profit leads us, to every sea and shore; for love of gain the wide world’s harbours we explore  .  .  .’. The decline in VOC profits after 1670 was largely due to developments in England and Japan. The English East India Company had long been a competitor in Asia, but it had not been a major threat. However, the combined English-French attack on the Dutch Republic in 1672 provided the EIC with new opportunities in Asia. The war in Europe hurt VOC sales, reduced specie shipments to Asia and forced it to return some naval ships to Europe. Yet, while the VOC had never succeeded in creating a monopoly of the Asia-Europe trade, it did succeed in establishing a remarkable trade system from Persia to Japan.14 During the 1680s, the VOC sent about 20 ships per year to Asia, and by the 1720s, it was sending 38 ships annually, most of which were also larger. But the number of ships in the Asia trade



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declined from 107 ships in the 1670s to 52 after the 1720s, signaling a decline in the overall VOC trade.15 The EIC template has been the most enduring for studying European shipping to Asia, but Table 6.1 shows the expanse of EIC shipping between 1781 and 1790 only, while Dutch shipping showed a steady growth between 1631 and 1740. Portuguese shipping declined, but Danish shipping to East Asia grew steadily from 1731. Surprisingly, French shipping, although modest in number, grew exponentially from 1681 onward. South Asia, and Bengal became important nodes in the Europe-East Asia network, for reasons I will enumerate further on in this essay. First, let’s see what kind of Dutch records are available.

The VOC Records on Bengal The documentation of the Dutch East India Company covering the period from 1607 to 1795 is preserved at the National Archives at The Hague in the Netherlands. The collection consists primarily of the correspondence among the Court of Directors in the Netherlands (the so-called Gentlemen XVII), the High Council at Batavia and the officials at the various trading stations or settlements (called factories) all over Asia, from Mocha at one end to Nagasaki at the other. The commercial correspondence included the orders placed by the Court of Directors of the VOC for various Asian goods along with complaints regarding under-fulfilment of earlier orders, quality of the goods received, their prices and so on. At the other end, the factors in Asia were constantly justifying shortfalls in supplies, the poorness of quality and the high prices paid with reference to the enormity of the competition for limited supplies by rival European companies as well as Asian competitors, the ‘villainy’ of the merchants dealing with the Company in supplying goods to third parties that they had got prepared against advances taken from the Company, and so forth.16 Statements such as these by factors cannot always be accepted at their face value because considerations other than serving the cause of the Company were often at work; often the illegal private trade of the Dutch factors and their informal alliances with the interloping trade worked to the detriment of VOC trade. Like that of all East India

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Companies, although the bulk of the VOC correspondence mainly deals with commercial issues, a closer look into the VOC archive offers glimpses into the social and political life of the province.

Eastern Bengal and Dhaka The VOC-Dhaka records have been under-utilized. There is in them information about trade and shipping, of course, but also data on weather conditions and religious matters, reports of diplomatic missions to the Nawab, correspondence with local traders in Dhaka, and various documents of Dutch merchants about the kinds of textiles available there. The VOC recorded local political developments such as power struggles at the Dhaka court and military manoeuvres between battling armies. Lennart Bes says it can be said that more or less all developments of a political, economic, military, social and ecological nature in and around Dhaka were recorded by the Dutch: There are about 500 large, thick volumes that include documents received from Chinsura, and around 350 of these contain only correspondence from Chinsura and nothing else.17 As each volume usually consists of hundreds or even thousands of pages, one can imagine that the amount of information on Bengal is truly enormous.18

Western Bengal: Murshidabad and Hooghly-Chinsurah For the Bengal factories alone, Om Prakash has counted as many as 137 documents pertaining to the eighteenth century; these include items such as the diaries kept at the chief factory at HooghlyChinsurah, memoranda left by outgoing directors for use by their successors, a description of the coinage of Bengal, etc.19 Sometimes, the information regarding Bengal was very precise. Prakash noted a sharp reduction in the rate of seigniorage at the Murshidabad mint from 5 per cent at the end of the sixteenth century to 3.37 per cent by the end of the seventeenth, and to a further 2.5 per cent in the eighteenth century. If one views the sharp reduction in seigniorage as a conscious policy choice, rather than reflective of a decline in imperial power, it would constitute a positive development designed to encourage minting, monetization and trade, but Prakash also



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noted that Europeans considered Indian mint technology both poor and wasteful. As opposed to five to six workers employed in a Dutch mint, the Murshidabad mint employed 120 or more workers including refiners, blowers and beaters.20 The technology of the time seems to have been labour intensive rather than innovative. The ready availability of manpower seems to have precluded technological innovations in Bengal, as was the case elsewhere in Asia. Dutch information on seventeenth-century Bengal is valuable for it highlights the local mercantile community’s capacity for trade and traditional knowledge of commercial practices. It underlines the merchants’ recognition of the equivalents between the different metals and currencies coming into Bengal at this time, suggesting that they were well-acquainted with contemporary global trading currencies. This acumen was the result of rigorous community and familial training. A Dutch document of 1687 noted for the dadni (particularly important for the textile trade of western Bengal) merchants: The merchants  .  .  .  are exceptionally quick and experienced. When they are still very young  .  .  .  they already begin to be trained as merchants. They are made to pretend to engage in trade while playing, first buying kauris, followed by silver and gold. In this training as money changers, they acquire the capability of engaging in large scale trade. They are always sober, modest, thrifty and cunning.  .  .  . They have the exceptional capability of discovering the humour of those who are in a position to help or hurt them.21

Why Bengal? By 1602, fifteen Dutch expeditions, organized by various voyagespecific Dutch partnerships and consisting of a total of 65 ships, were sent to Asia, of which 50 ships returned. This was more than the number of Portuguese East India vessels during the period.22 From the 1620s, once the VOC had sent its initial squadrons to the Bengal coast, it abandoned its project of replacing Persian silk (which was becoming increasingly difficult to procure after the collapse of Hurmuz) with China silk and decided to concentrate on Bengal silk instead.23 The VOC-Bengal trade prospered further from the end of the seventeenth century when shifts occurred in Europe’s trade with South Asia. The eastern seaboard of India—encompassing the Coromandel,

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Orissa and Bengal coasts—emerged as the most important trading region for all European companies.24

Shifts within South Asia The reasons for the eastward shift were manifold. The waning of the Portuguese maritime empire by the middle of the seventeenth century saw Surat’s trade, the premier Indian port of the west coast, decline in this century. The decline followed the disruption of the major maritime routes toward Africa, the Red Sea and the Persian Gulf.25 To this maritime disintegration must be added the terrestrial fragmentation of peninsular India: the fall of Ahmadnagar in 1633, the capitulation of Bijapur and Golconda to the Mughals by 1636 and Sivaji’s attack on Surat in 1664. The decay of Bijapur between 1672 and 1686, set against Mughal campaigns into the Dakhin and Maratha invasions, exacerbated politics and economy in the peninsula, revealing the extent of the destabilization. Finally, the locating of new markets in Southeast Asia as well as the discovery of new East Asian commodities such as China silk and Japan silver and then Japan copper, and the capacity of these commodities to underpin the larger India-Europe trade, were added incentives in the eastward shift. To this larger picture must be added some regional factors. In 1630, a serious famine had occurred in Surat, threatening the entire production and trade of the region, particularly that of baftas, a staple of the Surat trade.26 Merchants were forced to look elsewhere for this item. On the Coromandel Coast droughts and famines were common, as were intermittent wars between local polities, although Qutb Shahi and subsequently Mughal Masulipatnam offered good trading possibilities. But Bengal seemed more attractive: politically stable and economically prosperous, it offered cheap textiles and saltpetre as both commodity and ballast. An added attraction was its expanding agricultural frontier making for stable prices between 1675 and 1720.

Shifts in the Eastern Indian Ocean The aforementioned disintegration, and a consequent re-orientation of European trade, has also to be understood against changes



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occurring in the eastern Indian Ocean. The breakdown of the East Asian trade and the VOC presence in the Indonesian archipelago made the Coromandel and Bengal coasts an attractive destination for Europeans because Southeast Asian spices could be exchanged against cheap cottons. The Dutch, and to some extent the English, had already successfully filled the vacuum left by the decimated Portuguese in the Indian Ocean. The key to Dutch commercial success in the eastern Indian Ocean had been their capture of Melaka from the Portuguese in 1641, the VOC diverting much of the Melaka trade away from India and toward Japan. It had run a blockade of the Melaka Straits from 1629 to enforce this commercial orientation. Already in 1636 when the English stopped at: Malacca, both going and returning,  .  .  .  (they) found little doing there, it being wholey ruined by the Flemins [Dutch] continuall keeping those streights. Formerly it became the magazein for all the southward parts, and greate resort with shipping from Bengala with cloth and other commodities of that gulfe, everie yeare a shipp being laden thenc directly to Europe. But this in the Portugalls declining is quite ruined, being neither buyers nor sellers of any commoditie; for the trade of China, which formerly was followed to and from those parts of India, hath of later yeares binn diverted to Japon [Japan-author] and Monelias [Manila in the Philippines-author], to which parts they make the benifitt of dubling their principall in those short voyages; whence they returne little from both places but sylver (so greatly desired by the Chinas). [sic]27

Melaka, Taiwan (with the VOC Fort Zeelandia) and Nagasaki became important hubs in the VOC-Indian Ocean trade. In a letter dated September 1640 to the governor-general and council of Batavia, the Court of Directors of the VOC, the so-called Heeren XVII, described the Japan and China trades as the principal trade in the entire Indies.28 Yet, although the VOC concentrated their efforts on East Asia and controlled major parts of the Indonesian archipelago by the 1650s, it decided—dictated by political developments in the eastern Indian Ocean—to shift focus from the archipelago and concentrate on the Bengal coast instead by 1680.29 As the Qings consolidated their power in China after 1644, they took over Zeelandia, the VOC’s hub in Taiwan, in 1662 and forced the Dutch to acquire China silk in the

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mainland ports, which China then closed to the VOC in 1666. The VOC thereafter substituted Bengal for China silk for sale in Japan. But during the 1660s Japan, which largely paid for its imports from the Dutch in gold and silver, forbade the export of specie, instituting a system of controlled and higher prices for its exports that significantly reduced the profitability of the VOC-Japan trade. The flow of silver from Japan had been a distinctive feature of the Nagasaki trade up to 1668. But in 1668, as part of its currency policy, Japan issued an ordinance against the export of silver. In 1685, Japan went further and set absolute limits on the total value of its trade with the VOC. Since Japan specie had been critical to financing its intra-Asian trade, the VOC’s entire intra-Asian trade system lost its profitability during the early eighteenth century.30 Macau emerged as a secondary hub in the Pacific-Indian Ocean trade once Portuguese control over the seventeenth-century Indian Ocean declined and partially offset the loss of Dutch-controlled Nagasaki.31

The Shift to Bengal The Dutch first explored the Bengal coast in 1607, most likely landing at Pipli in Orissa. The English were slower to reach Bengal. A defining moment came in 1620 when Robert Hughes and John Parker were sent from Surat to look into the profitability of accessing textiles at Patna. They reported back that many of the textiles found in the Patna market were sourced from Bengal, being at least 20 per cent cheaper in Bengal.32 But it was only in 1641 or 1651 (the date is disputed) that the EIC formally sailed into Bengal; between 1675 and 1684, Streynsham Master and then William Hedges were sent from Madras to detach the Bengal settlements from the administration of Fort St. George and put them on a permanent basis and, in Hedges’ case, cut off the interlopers. The EIC found the VOC already well-established in Bengal. The French too had arrived accidentally blown off by a storm, at Balasore in 1674, and bought land there in 1686. Between 1670 and 1680, Bengal had emerged as the most soughtafter destination for the companies. The Europeans did not set up forts and garrisons in this initial period, preferring to depend on the goodwill of the Mughal subahdar and his officials instead.33 The VOC had only one territory at that time on the eastern sea-board, at



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Pulicat. Shaista Khan, subahdar of Bengal between 1663 and 1688, forbade the companies in 1664 from building permanent structures of stone; they were to dwell in earthen buildings after the native style instead.34 Central to European considerations was the discovery of Bengal textiles—both silk and cottons—as commodities for both the Europe and ‘India’ trades. Dhaka cottons were historically the chief export item from Bengal. Kasimbazar silk now became an important commodity, once European projects of investing in Persia, and then China silk, were abandoned.

Shifts in the Western Indian Ocean The western Indian Ocean was in equal turmoil. The Red Sea trade was threatened by predation throughout the 1630s, the Malabar-Red Sea run was infested with pirates, and English and French pirates pillaged the Red Sea ports. Mocha and Muscat suffered continual wars. By the 1760s and 1770s, the VOC had almost left this branch of commerce; the EIC now controlled six-tenths of the Red Sea trade, using the new route through the port of Suez.35 As for the Gulf trade, a joint Anglo-Persian force had liberated Hurmuz from Portuguese control in 1622. Following the destruction of Hurmuz, increased VOC shipping to ports such as Mocha, Bander Abbas (Gombroon), Muscat and Basra appeared. It often sailed in convoy with the EIC merchant fleet to the Gulf, as the Portuguese were still a considerable force in the western Indian Ocean.36 But the region was in turmoil. In 1632–3, as Shiraz prepared to attack Portuguese-held Muscat, the VOC preempted the EIC by offering Shiraz all help and even sent armed ships there, but the speculative VOC expedition was inconclusive.37 It was reported in 1644 that the Dutch had not received a single bale of Persia silk for two years.38 Again in April 1645, the civil war in Persia saw the appearance of a strong Dutch fleet at Gombroon, with an expeditionary force intended for the capture of Kish and Hurmuz. Trade at Gombroon had already been destabilized by a severe earthquake, and the VOC blockade brought it now practically to a standstill. The reply received from Ispahan to VOC demands proving unsatisfactory, an attempt was made to storm the Persian fort on the island of Kish, but the Dutch were repulsed.39 Their position at Surat in 1645 was not much

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better: ‘The Dutch are generally hated here, and the Governor has several times told them that they can go when they pleased, if they are not satisfied to have the same privileges as the English.’40 Silk and pearls against Indonesian spices was the basis of the VOC trade in the Gulf. In 1655–6, the VOC-Persia trade was deemed to be greater than the EIC’s trade.41 However, due to growing English influence the Dutch were gradually displaced, the Frenchman and adventurer Louis Laurent de Federbe, Count of Modave, noted in the 1770s that the century-long pre-eminence of the VOC in the Gulf had ceded way to the EIC.42 The VOC had little option but to tighten their hold on the eastern Indian Ocean trade. Its conquest of Colombo and Jaffna, strategically located in the central Indian Ocean, between 1656 and 1658 greatly helped matters.

New Configurations in the Indian Ocean Trade Just as the VOC was gradually being forced out of the trade, except for that in spices, of the western Indian Ocean, the EIC in its turn was being forced out of the Indonesian archipelago, particularly from Batavia, now dominated increasingly by the Dutch. A letter dated 21 December 1628 mentions that the English had recently left Batavia for Bantam (Banten) owing to the ‘insolency of the Dutch  .  .  .  (and for the) establishment of a firm and peaceable trade (at Bantam), which here will never be performed by the Dutch unless the King (of Bantam) takes the Company under his protection’.43 But at Bantam too, the VOC were becoming dominant. By 1650, it also controlled Sumatra, particularly Achin, and thus gained even more of a toehold in the Indonesian archipelago. Trade in tin and pepper were affected. The English noted in 1651: now that the Dutch have incorporated the most parts of Sumatra in a manner to themselves, by forceing the Oueene to theire owne conditions, it will grow worss ; when there wilbe neither tyn nor peper there acquireable but with much difficulty and danger, if the Dutch durst doe that which they have a mynde and will unto ; whoe have allready seazed on jounkes of this place tradeing thither, and doe yet detayne them.  .  .  . [sic]44

Finally, in December, 1651, the EIC wrote to President Baker at Bantam, directing him to transfer his headquarters to Fort St. George



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in Madras. The chief reason for this move was probably the increased importance of the Coast and Bengal settlements, coinciding with a decline in the trade of Bantam and other settlements in Southeast Asia and the Far East, but it may also be supposed that the tension between the English and Dutch at Bantam, which resulted in hostilities a few months later, had something to do with the transfer.45 Therefore, the VOC retained its prominence in Southeast Asia, despite the entry of the Danish (founded in 1616) and the French (amalgamated in 1664) companies into the spice trade. In 1684, the VOC forced the closure of the pepper trade at Bantam to its competitors and, from its growing power in Bantam, choked off the independent pepper trade from west Sumatra. An entry in Hedges’ Diary of 16 August 1684 states that an EIC ship with 60 guns was diverted from Bantam Road by the Dutch, supposedly on orders from the king of Bantam, and told to go to Dutch dominated Batavia instead, because the king would not allow the ship into Bantam.46 It is clear that the formerly open port of Bantam where all nations traded was slowly becoming a closed port, the Dutch intending to keep it that way to retain their monopoly in the pepper trade and also to impede Bantam functioning as port for interlopers: for example, the illegal China junks trading in Japan copper which hindered the crucial VOC trade in Japan copper with the Bengal and the Coromandel Coast, Surat and Persia, although in 1684 the company gave permission to the Chinese merchants, domiciled in Batavia and Bantam, to trade with Japan. There was also the VOC attempt to divert all trade to Batavia instead and, with their strong presence there, cut out the interlopers. The English decided on a last ditch effort to secure Bantam in 1684, partially to carry on the China trade in Japan copper into Persia, but the VOC now prepared to frustrate the EIC move to restore the king of Bantam by readying 14 men of war, with 54–75 great guns each, to defend their position.47 More than the other Southeast Asian spices, it was their control over the Indonesian pepper production and trade that ensured VOC success in the Indian Ocean. Although India produced pepper, and by the 1620s the English were importing somewhat over 1.4 million lb. annually, while the Dutch imports averaged about 2.5 million lb. of Indian pepper, both the EIC and VOC concentrated on the cheaper Indonesian pepper from the 1630s. By far the chief product traded

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by the Portuguese India Company was pepper, which still accounted for over 81 per cent of its exports to Portugal in 1630, 96 per cent in 1631, and 98 per cent in 1632. Dutch control of the Indonesian pepper trade increased the local demand, particularly in Bengal, for Malabar and Kanara pepper.48 However, one must remember that while pepper and spices constituted 57 per cent of the VOC’s profits in 1668–70, these traditional products only accounted for 37 per cent in 1698–1700, indicating a diversification of Dutch exports and the use of new routes.49 By the 1680s, the English and the Dutch each controlled one of the two key points in the Indian Ocean: the Straits of Hurmuz in the western Indian Ocean and the Melaka Straits in the eastern Indian Ocean. Now the two straits, earlier operating as hubs, had become essentially choke-points. The ports of Hurmuz, Melaka and Bantam became closed off by the controlling European power, their trades were diverted to smaller ports that sprang up along the coastlines of both sides of the ocean. It was Bengal, and not the Coromandel Coast, that profited from the new order. The latter’s production was limited in nature, producing low cost cotton goods much in demand in Indonesia, and later in Africa, but not much else. Bengal, on the other hand, offered a wide range of export goods. Due to the profitability of trade from Bengal, and by virtue of the fact that European powers were more or less evenly matched in Bengal, none of Bengal’s traditional port-towns became closed off, as had become the case in Hurmuz, Melaka and Bantam. By contrast, each European nation gradually established its own settlement, pushing up competition and presaging a boom for local merchants. Such was Bengal’s profitability that the VOC debated sending a ship directly to Hooghly from Holland instead of going through Batavia as was the norm, and a ship was recorded as having been dispatched from Holland on 22 October 1683.50

The Dutch in Bengal in the Seventeenth Century Among the second wave of major European powers (i.e. those following the Portuguese), the Dutch were the first to establish a settlement in Bengal. This century has been called the golden age of the Dutch at home; and it was certainly the golden age of the VOC



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in Asia. One will see that it was a golden age for the VOC in Bengal as well.

The Early Years Unlike copious references to the Portuguese, the relative absence of details about the Dutch in many of the seventeenth-century Mangalkavya literature of Bengal is inexplicable. 51 The authors probably felt it unnecessary to record their impressions about the Dutch despite their considerable presence, perhaps because they still saw seventeenth-century Bengal as a Mughal region, referencing only those who mattered for their survival—such as Mughal overlords and Portuguese marauders. In 1622, when the Portuguese were still based at Hooghly, the VOC sent a fleet of three ships—the Scheidem, the Muys, and the Jagger—to buy saltpetre, textiles and sugar. But trading voyages were intermittent until 1632, after which it stepped in to fill the vacuum caused by the Portuguese expulsion from Hooghly. In 1635, the Dutch built a factory at Balasore. Finally in 1638, Emperor Shahjahan granted the VOC permission to trade and settle in Bengal. Pipli was an important VOC port in the initial years. Known as a slave-mart and slave-port, it became also the VOC saltpetre procuring centre and dispatch point, both upstream by river and downstream by sea. The English noted of it in 1652: The Dutch are soe well furnished with howses and all other conveniencies for that (saltpetre) trade that annually they shipp from Pipplee neere 2,000 tonns of this commodity, and all refined, though they buy most thereof gross (as well as other commodities) up the said river as farr as Puttana [Patna-author] and bring it downe in boats, for whose security against the theeveing Arracan jelliaes, they have certaine sloopes or small shipps well manned and munition’d ; and soe must you, if you resolve to continue this river trade to any purpose, especially for saltpeter, which is said to cost but halfe soe much at Puttana as in Ballasora [Balasore-author].52

The Period of Consolidation Between 1653 and 1665 (the date is disputed, some scholars suggesting a date as early as 1627) the VOC moved to Hooghly and then, in 1656, from Hooghly into Chinsurah. One reason for the departure

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from Hooghly may have been the protracted VOC fight over trade privileges with the Mughal Subahdar Shah Shuja, which reached its height in 1656.53 Once at Chinsurah, the VOC erected a walled trading post. Its layout can be seen from Hendrik Van Schuylenburgh’s painting titled ‘Head-Office of the Dutch East India Company at Oughly in Bengal’, dated 1665, in the Rijskmuseum at Amsterdam. The trading post, not yet the VOC’s Fort Gustavus of the next century, was quite extensive, it had walls on all sides, three access gates, one of them leading to the river, two warehouses and a pleasure garden. The main building had two floors. At a distance lay the Dutch cemetery.54 The local element depicted in Schuylenburgh’s painting indicates how the Dutch viewed the local people and their customs such as charak and sati; the manner in which the artist depicted these ceremonies is also significant.55 The Dutch used their trading post at Chinsurah as a base for their intra-Asian trade in commodities such as saltpetre, spices, cotton and indigo. Chinsurah soon grew into a flourishing settlement. Between 1685 and 1690, the average annual procurement of saltpetre by the VOC was 385,000 maunds, slightly over 30 per cent of the total output of refined saltpetre.56 The French traveller, merchant and gem trader Jean-Baptiste Tavernier visited Chinsurah between 20 February and 2 March 1666 and was offered a special meal by the Dutch. He commented on market gardening in the settlement, the Dutch offering him a range of cuisines, a variety of fruits and vegetables, and entertaining him with rides on pleasure boats on the river. Tavernier wrote that the Dutch grew all sorts of vegetables including Japan beans, herbs, cabbage, asparagus and peas (called olondai shooti by locals) at Chinsurah. Tavernier noted, however, that the Dutch were not successful in growing artichokes in Bengal.57 Ten years later, on 21 November 1676, Streynsham Master visited Chinsurah and saw three new, very large warehouses and also a shipyard, where the Dutch stored good quality timber brought in from Batavia.58 The Dutch were not just in Bengal to entertain, host parties and balls, take pleasure rides on the river and generally have a good time. A mercantile nation and people, their primary interest was in participating in the lucrative trade from Bengal, a trade that was to become their most profitable arm in the Indian Ocean. On average, 20 per cent of the VOC’s return cargo to Europe represented its profits



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from intra-Asian trade; at the end of the seventeenth century, Bengal accounted for as much as 40 per cent of the total value of Dutch imports from Asia into Europe. Bengal became by far the largest Asian supplier of goods for Holland, accounting for around 40 per cent of the total imports during the 1690s, the 1700s and the 1710s.59 Although, Om Prakash had highlighted the role of Japan silver in financing the early years of this trade, after Japan’s ban on silver exports in 1668 the VOC became dependent upon European silver instead to finance its trade with Asia, this became visible by 1700.60 Post 1668, it was actually copper that filled the gap, emerging as the most important commodity in the bullion-for-goods trade. This chapter will therefore emphasize the role of Japan copper from the second half of the seventeenth century onward.

Financing the Bengal Trade: The Role of Copper The Bengal trade was financed largely, after the deficit in the Japan silver and gold (coubang) imports into India by the VOC, with Japan copper against China and Bengal silks and also against Persia, Siam and Tongkin silks. Japan copper was cheaper and not inferior in quality to the European copper the Dutch were supposed to have used in the first decades of the seventeenth century. Of the total of 29,048,244 lb. of Japan copper bars that the VOC sold in the years 1701–24, the factories in Bengal took 27.03 per cent, the Coromandel Coast: 24.57 per cent, Surat: 23.99 per cent, Ceylon: 11.59 per cent, the Malabar Coast: 8.37 per cent, Mocha: 3.46 per cent and Persia 0.99 per cent. This effectively reversed the seventeenth-century trend when the quota for the Coromandel Coast was larger and that of Bengal smaller. For example, 4,972,204 lb. of copper were sold at Surat in the years 1679–84, while the settlements at Hooghly, Balasore, Kasimbazar, Dhaka and Patna could absorb only 2,483,472 lb. in the same period. In 1684, the factories at Golconda, Bhimlipatnam, Nagapattinam, Tegnapatam, Porto Novo and Sadrangapatam sold a total of 2,279,528 lb. against a total for the same year of 1,265,310 lb. in Surat and 393,986 lb. in the whole of Bengal.61 One reason for better copper sales on the Coromandel Coast were the high market prices in the beginning of the 1680’s which occurred simultaneously with a downward tendency in the Bengal prices.

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This effectively furthered the Coromandel-VOC trade, obviating the need for cash to be sent out from Amsterdam, since the coarser Coromandel cottons, rather than the finer textiles of Bengal, were in high demand in Indonesia. But, in a letter written in the summer of 1684 the Court of Directors in Amsterdam reprimanded the factory in Bengal, urging it to increase sales in this densely populated area. In 1685, an improvement in the Bengal prices set in, and in the course of the 1690’s copper prices came up to the level of prices in Masulipatnam.62 From the 1690s, therefore, Bengal turned out to be a profitable investment for the VOC.

Dutch Shipping Almost a half century lapsed between the Dutch and English entries into the Hooghly. The VOC was the first to follow the Portuguese into Bengal as early as 1607, whereas the EIC formally sailed up the Hooghly only in 1651 or, as some records suggest, around 1640–1 when Fort St. George sent agents to Balasore, who then moved upward to Rajmahal. In 1650, when the Lyoness was despatched with factors to formally establish the English presence in Bengal, Fort St. George noted that the VOC had already got a head start in Bengal, and Dutch cruisers in the Bay of Bengal made the English enterprise of sailing along the Hooghly hazardous.63 An English letter of 1634 had already noted: ‘The Dutch, who in their imaginations would engrosse the whole worlds commerce, provide for it in one of the most important furtherances; for they have shipping in India [i.e. the Indies] above a hundred saile; with which they doe not onely infest all places but trade as it were in triumph.’64 The consultations and letters of the English in Bengal in the early years followed the Dutch regarding the items to be contracted for in trade, the placement of orders, the quality of goods sought, trading practices to be followed and strategies to be adopted in negotiation with the Mughals in Bengal. English records cite harassment, or apprehensions of harassment by the Dutch: in 1682, Hedges wrote that ‘by the way ’tis observable that ye Dutch omit no opportunity to do us all the prejudice that lyes in their power’, and in 1684 he wrote again that ‘Here ye Duch boore showed himself in his natural colours (I believe it is impossible to know a Hollander’s temper and



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natural hatred to an English man so well in any other part of ye world as in India)’.65 But already in 1661, Edward Winter, President at Fort St. George (under whose authority the Bengal settlements lay after they were transferred from the Surat Council’s control), proposed following Dutch commercial policy as it was the best. To Winter, the VOC’s larger capital assets and superior naval strength gave it power and kept the indigenous powers in awe.66 At this time, Bengal Subahdar Mir Jumla, a considerable merchant trading to Southeast Asia, was friend to the Dutch and hostile to the English: ‘For this Meir Jumbla is a miserable coveteous person, a friend to our false ones the Dutch, and urged by them to offerr abuses unto us’.67 The EIC reported on 29 January 1661 that Mir Jumla had ordered Patna diwan Lutfullah Beg to not monopolize the saltpetre trade and allow the Dutch to trade freely in that commodity.68 Hedges reported on 17 November 1684 that while the English sugar and saltpetre boats were stopped upstream, the Dutch faced no such restrictions in their trade in Bengal, Emperor Aurangzeb having ordered the next Bengal Subahdar Shaista Khan, based at the capital at Dhaka, not to hinder or harm the Dutch for ‘they were very potent at sea’, and might be provoked to stop pilgrims from sailing to Makkah.69 Shaista Khan was a considerable merchant, and Thomas Bowrey noted that Shaista Khan’s fleet consisted of about ‘twenty sail of ships of considerable tonnage that annually trade to sea from Dacca, Balesore, and Pipli, some to Ceylon, some to Tenssarim. These fetch elephants, and the rest, 6 or 7, yearly go to the twelve thousand islands, called the Maldives, to fetch cowries and cayre (coir)’.70 An EIC letter from Patna dated 25 June 1687 to John Child, brother of Josiah Child and President at Surat, noted that a ship belonging to Shaista Khan had a Dutch pilot.71 Obviously, close relations existed between Shaista Khan and the Dutch, and like Mir Jumla he too saw no reason to ally himself with the EIC, then the weaker of the two companies.

The Dutch Pilot Service as Mainstay of Dutch Preeminence Underpinning the fast VOC expansion in Asia was the Dutch mercantile navy comprising of large and small boats. Soon after

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arrival at Pipli in 1627, the Dutch established a well-organized and highly efficient service of river pilots on the Bengal coast. This was the key to their commercial success in the Bay and in Bengal, for they used their expertise in going upriver, tapping the interior marts, and connecting them with the coast. With the establishment of factories at Balasore in 1635 and at Chinsurah in 1656, the Dutch Service was expanded, and for some years their pilots had a practical monopoly of the river navigation of the Hooghly as well as their control of the inland fluvial route from Balasore. The French and EIC complained that the Dutch held the key to Bengal by controlling the river passage from Balasore, frequently blocking ships from going into Bengal. Coming from the west, Balasore was the first port in Bengal. A sister port of Hooghly and an open port, it had a naturally deep harbour attracting all kinds of trading vessels. It controlled the trade with Ceylon, the Maldives, Pegu and other points in Southeast Asia. A mint was set up sometime around 1658. The port was controlled by the Mughal faujdars Malik Kasim and his son Malik Zindi, the latter a shipowner himself, between 1668 and 1681.72 In September 1690, the French voyager and diarist Robert Challes landed there, and in 1701 a big French ship carrying the French traveller Luiller also anchored there.73 Like the English who followed them, but only as late as in 1668–9 when the EIC established a pilot service, the Dutch ran a ferry service with sloops between Balasore and the fluvial ports along the Hooghly, and they also did a certain amount of surveying and charting. Around 1634, the English Company noted that the VOC had about a hundred small ships all over the ‘Indies’ (‘for they have shipping in India [i.e. the Indies] above a hundred saile’) which was the secret of their commercial success, for they traded with these small ships all over the eastern Indian Ocean coastline: The Dutch are never without three or four such vessells here [Balasore], wherewith they trade from port to port all the yeare longe, sometimes buyinge rice and other provisions where they are cheape and transport it to better markets, otherwhiles they are imployed as men of warr (but never idle); and by these meanes they cleare at yeares end all the great charges they are at uppon this coast. [sic]74

The Dutch used their sloops as training ships to a greater extent than the English did, manning them entirely with their own nationals



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who aspired to be pilots, whereas more than half the crew of an English sloop were lascars.

Dutch Expertise in the Balasore and Hooghly Routes Holland was the first nation to lay buoys to guide its ships in and out of the river and to discover and use the eastern channel, despite the dangerous passage ‘across the braces’ (the shifting shoals and sandbanks), as a way in and out of the Hooghly. The entry point to the Hooghly route was Sagor Island.75 This was a dangerous route; despite expertise in manoeuvring ships up the Hooghly River the VOC lost on the braces one of the 12 ships it had despatched to Bengal from Ceylon and Batavia in 1668.76 The new route meant that ships could bypass the anchorage rights demanded by the local governor at Balasore and go upstream into Bengal from the bar of the Hooghly instead. But the large EIC ships did not have the manoeuvrability of the smaller and faster VOC ships operating on the Bengal coast and upriver. EIC ships had to be anchored in deep waters far from the shore. The English at Masulipatnam felt: ‘it is very requisite that you send out two small pinnaces to remain on this coast, of some 80 to 120 tunnes, such as may draw but little water and carry some 12 or 14 gunns apeece. The Dutch are never without three or four such vessells here  .  .  .’. 77 In 1661, the feasibility of the Hooghly route over the Balasore route was explored by the EIC: ‘For the Dutch  .  .  .  have had this yeare noe lesse then 8 ships, some whereof were 600 tunns, that have tided it up to Hugly’. In 1662, after the General Letter advised the EIC to go directly up the Hooghly, it found seven Dutch ships already using the new passage. For using the new route, which would save a month and would transport saltpetre down from Patna more easily than sending it across to Balasore, the EIC was advised that flat-bottomed vessels of not more than 300 tons and two sloops of about 80 tons burden as auxiliaries should be sent out. An alternative to the new ships ‘would be to furnish from England a couple of ketches of about 50 tons each’ and ‘[a] request was also made for “trusty persons to take charge of and navigate” such vessels, and to “bee capable to pilot up shipps, as the Dutch doe”. They should be engaged for a set period, to prevent their quitting the service when they please’ as ‘the Dutch

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would not send soe many great ships up to Hooghly every yeare as they doe’ if the new route across the bar was not more attractive than the Balasore route. But, as late as 1665 shipowners were unwilling to use the new route. In 1668, when the 60 ton Diligence was despatched from Madras to Bengal, Fort St. George recommended using that vessel to go upriver rather than the present fleet, adding that the matter was left to the discretion of individual captains. One reason for the slow start of the service was that the window of time for crossing the Hooghly was short—only between December and February—when winds were slower and there was less chance of rains and cyclones. A hope was expressed that captains would take note of the shifting sands, and the varying channel and depths, and that a class of English pilots on the Dutch model be trained and made available by 1669; this seemed feasible to the Bengal factors, although by that year the Diligence was deemed unfit for the purpose. One may, however, take the date of 1669 as the establishment of the English Pilot Service, so as to enable boats to go up the Hooghly from 1670 onward.78 But Dutch ships were better built, stronger and faster. Already: ‘The fact that two of the vessels sent out to India by the English Company in 1643 were Dutch-built was a further “discreditt to our nation whilst this people [the Indian merchants at Surat-author] (who know noe better) enquire whether England doth not affoard shipping of its owne, that it is enforced to seeke and buy them among strangers”’.79 Moreover, storage on Dutch ships was deemed better and the VOC had a monopoly over freight. A Dutch letter of 165180 says that Asian merchants preferred VOC ships for freight, because care was taken of their goods, which in English vessels were frequently spoilt by the seepage of sea-water.81

Dutch Settlements Once the Hooghly route was well-established, the EIC found the VOC well-entrenched in the town, headed by a chief or Director. The EIC needed a firman in order to trade there on an equal footing and safety ‘att sea and  .  .  .  on the shore. [sic]’82 Commodities brought into Bengal were zinc, tin, a limited amount of quicksilver, pewter and copper, grains such as rice and grams, butter, oil, sandalwood and pigs.



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There was a huge demand for these in all VOC settlements.83 The name of the place Baranagar situated near Calcutta is derived from the Sanskritized name Barahanagar (baraha is the Sanskrit word for ‘pig’); a large piggery was established there to provide preserved salted pork to Dutch vessels. The reference to pigs, as also numerous references to Baranagar as secondary port, suggests that a good number of VOC ships called at Baranagar. Baranagar was a considerable Dutch port in the seventeenth century, Hedges reporting on 16 August 1684 that four Dutch ships had arrived there from Batavia, and his entry for 24 September 1686 noted that two ships would be sent to Europe from Baranagar by the Dutch that year.84 In 1684, the English noted that three fleets of Dutch ships usually arrived in the Bay (i.e. Hooghly; in EIC records the term ‘Coast’ referred to the Coromandel Coast, while ‘Bay’ meant the Bengal coast) from Southeast Asia and points further east. The first set came at the end of June and the second in September, both from Batavia. The third set of ships came in January from the Melaka Straits, carrying goods from Japan. All three sets of shipping carried China and Japan goods and spices from Southeast Asia. The goods carried in the first two fleets entered the Europe-India trade, while goods from the last set remained confined to intra-Asian trade.85 While travelling in Bengal between 1773 and 1776, the Count of Modave found the Dutch still dominant there.86 In the east, the VOC had tried setting up an establishment at Dhaka in 1636, but it had failed. Its attempt in the 1650s or in 1666 (again the date is uncertain) was more successful; a factory and office, with a large warehouse, was set up by the Buriganga River, and a garden in the vicinity of Farmgate. The VOC stayed here too until 1825, although its properties in Dhaka were formally transferred to the EIC only in 1834.87 The trading post of Dhaka was under the direct control of Chinsurah, which in turn operated under supervision of the Dutch headquarters Pulicat in the Coromandel. The main centre for business and trade for the VOC in Southeast Asia was, as mentioned earlier, Batavia. So, as its importance grew, the factory in Chinsurah, with its many dependencies, came under Batavia’s direct control. Batavia in turn was answerable to the directors of the Company in the Netherlands, who were organized in various regional offices, of which Amsterdam and Zeeland were the most important ones.

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Dutch Trade Dutch trade in seventeenth-century Bengal was evidently of far greater importance than that of the English. The profits for the year 1660 were 155,744 gulden, and those for the next twelve months were nearly 204,200.88 However, if one follows Tavernier’s perception of the Dutch share in the raw silk and silk piece goods trade at Kasimbazar in 1666, Dutch trade in silks at that time seems comparatively negligible. Tavernier estimated that the Dutch generally took, either for Japan or for Holland, 6,000 to 7,000 bales (each bale weighing 100 lb) out of the total annual production of silk at 3.1 million lb. of 16 ounces each. Tavernier further noted that only about 350,000 to 400,000 lb. out of the 3.1 million lb. was made available to Europeans, Indian and Asian merchants taking the rest.89 Tavernier’s figures seem debatable, since 6,000 or 7,000 bales at 100 lb. would make the Dutch investment in 1666 amount to 600,000 or 700,000 lb. of 16 ounces each (as opposed to the great ounce of 24), whereas Tavernier also writes that only 350,000 to 400,000 lb. were made available to Europeans. I am therefore unable to reconcile Tavernier’s estimates of the Dutch share in the silk trade against the total figures for the trade in Bengal silk given by him. The Dutch trade in Bengal silk at Kasimbazar comes into perspective when compared to English trade in the same item in the same period as is shown in Table 6.2. It shows that when Tavernier visited Chinsurah, the VOC share in the silk trade had increased greatly from what it had been around 1635–40. Dutch investment in silk grew steadily, with sharp rises in 1654, in 1678–9, 1692–3 and again in 1699–1700, and they would retain this head start into the first two decades of the eighteenth century (see Table 6.3).

The Dutch in Eighteenth Century Bengal Om Prakash had divided VOC trade in India into three periods: 1600–80, 1680–1740 and 1740–1800. The first saw the ‘opening up’ of Bengal, the second saw its emergence as the lead region, and the third period showed the EIC’s ascendancy and the VOC’s decline. The third period is of concern here. Although the first decades of the eighteenth century saw a steady progress of Dutch trade in Bengal,



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Table 

6.2:  Comparative Figures in Pound Sterling for Dutch and English Investments in Bengal Silk in the Seventeenth Century

Dutch Investment (Year)

Currency (Pound Sterling)

English Investment (Year)

Currency (Pound Sterling)

1635–40 Around 20,000 NA 1650 50,000 NA 1654 20,000 NA 100,000 NA After 1654 1669–70 80,000 1669 1678–9 128,077 1673 – 1676 NA NA – 1679 NA – 1681 NA – 1683 NA – 1686 NA – 1689 1690–1 121,096 NA 1692–3 171,326 1694 NA – 1697 1699–1700 198,944 1700

–      –    – – 20,000 21,874 31,570 70,680 124,335 172,859 48,474 1,640 – 45,960 47,620 96,340

Source: Based on Tables 3.1 and 3.2, in Rila Mukherjee, Merchants and Companies in Bengal: Kasimbazar and Jugdia in the Eighteenth Century, New Delhi: Pragati, 2006, pp. 9–10. TABLE  

6.3:  Dutch and English Investment Figures in Pounds Sterling for Bengal Silk in the Early Eighteenth Century



Dutch Investment Year

1701–2 1702–3 1704–5 NA 1709–10 1713–14 1715–16 1717–18 NA

Pound Sterling 263,589 2,124 185,589 – 176,208 142,967 192,078 212,779 –

English Investment Year 1701 NA 1704 1707 1710 1713 1716 1718 1721

Pound Sterling 148,449 – 7,393 77,066 63,429 31,512 74,717 121,298 20,344

Source: Based on Tables 3.1 and 3.2 in Mukherjee, Merchants and Companies in Bengal, pp. 9–10.

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this has not received the attention it deserves. Lennart Bes has noted for Dhaka: One may wonder what has been done with all these documents on Dhaka so far. The answer is: amazingly little. The Dutch records concerning this city and the rest of East Bengal are largely unexplored. At the same time, they are currently more accessible than ever before, as the relevant inventories and the tables of contents of most volumes concerning Bengal have been made available on the internet in the past years.90

The same goes for the settlements in western Bengal, but if one delves deeper into the available documentation, certain trends emerge very clearly.

Eighteenth-Century Commercial Trends The first discernible trend is an overall growth of European trade in Bengal. The VOC led in investing in textile production; by fragmenting the indigenous textile production cycle, and by centralizing operations to a large extent, it was able to reap enormous profits from its textile trade. The second trend shows the VOC engrossing a significant share of the textile trade until the mid-century. The tables in Sushil Chaudhuri’s chapter at the author’s conference for this volume show that around 1750 the value of VOC exports of textiles, saltpetre and opium was still comparable to that of the EIC. One may also see certain negative trends emerging in the VOC trade with Bengal. The profitability of its trade in the Indian Ocean continued into 1724, but Japan copper sales in Bengal from 1716 to 1724 registered a sharp decline. Only 179,157 Dutch lb. were sold in 1723–4 against 399,221 lb. in 1722–3. The figures for the 1720s in Bengal never reached the high levels of 1702–3 (516,256 lb.), 1708–9 (561,000 lb.), 1709–10 (635,868 lb.), 1710–11 (676,098 lb.), 1714–15 (547,536 lb.) and 1715–16 (650,934 lb.).91 The analysis of how the English and French companies outpaced the VOC’s performance in textile investment around the mid-century mark is shown in Table 6.4. Yet the 1740s seemed a growth period for VOC trade in Bengal. Sometime after 1740, the Dutch erected a more elaborate and fortified factory at Chinsurah and called it Fort Gustavus. This structure



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TABLE  

6.4:  Estimated Value of the Amount of Cloth Exported from Dhaka in 1747

Party Imperial household at Delhi Nawab’s household at Murshidabad House of Jagatseth at Murshidabad Turani merchants for trade in north India Export by Pathan or Afghan merchants Export by Armenian merchants for Basra, Mocha and Jeddah Export by Mughal merchants for the same and also for home  consumption Export by Hindu merchants for internal markets Export by English Company for Europe English individuals for foreign markets French Company for Europe French individuals for foreign markets Dutch Company for Europe Estimated prime cost

Value in Arcot Rupees 100,000 300,000 150,000 100,000 150,000 500,000 400,000 200,000 350,000 200,000 250,000 50,000 100,000 2,850,000

Source: The statement was prepared for James Taylor, East India Company’s Commercial Resident in Dhaka in 1800, based on various contemporary official and private papers. Adapted from A. Karim, ‘An Account of the District of Dacca, Dated 1800’, Journal of the Asiatic Society of Pakistan, vol. VII, No. 2, December 1962.

had much higher walls than the preceding settlement, indicating growing Dutch power and perhaps increasing political instability in Bengal as well. The Rear Admiral of Zeeland, Stavorinus, while visiting Chinsurah sometime in late 1769–early 1770, left a detailed description of Fort Gustavus. The fort was situated 100 metres away from the river and at the embarkation point were many cannons with their barrels pointing toward the river, and a lane ran from the fort to the river. The Count of Modave felt, while visiting it sometime between 1773 and 1776, that the construction of Fort Gustavus was unremarkable. He noted that Dutch individuals had their houses and gardens around it, adding that the Dutch were the best gardeners in the East.92 The comparative investment figures of the Dutch and English companies in Bengal silk in the early eighteenth century are shown in Table 6.3. This table indicates clearly that the Dutch still retained a lead over the English into the eighteenth century. The greatly reduced Dutch investment figure for 1702–3 and for the English investment

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of 1704 may be explained by the chaos wrought in the aftermath of Sobha Singh’s rebellion and the transfer of the Diwani Daftar from Dhaka to Murshidabad around this time. For example, the sale of copper failed completely in Bengal in 1703–5, and in 1706, the English factors had to resolve the matter of minting privileges and the stoppage of their trade by the local authorities. They did this by paying Rs.25,000 to Murshid Quli Khan before being allowed to mint their bullion at the new mint at Murshidabad.93 However, it is to be noted that even in 1718 the English investment was almost half of that of the Dutch.

The Mid-Century Situation But this happy state of affairs would change. By mid-century, the VOC faced fundamental long-term problems and its trade in high value items such as pepper, spices and silk would be replaced by a more prosaic carrying trade in rice, grains and copper. Dynastic changes in Persia and India increased English and French competition, and this squeezed the VOC out of Persia, Surat, the Malabar Coast and Bengal, so that the Company’s trade became largely confined to the area it controlled directly, from Ceylon through the Indonesian archipelago and in the Melaka and Sunda straits. To compensate for the loss of intra-Asian trade revenue, it raised its revenue from taxes from about 30 per cent of total Asian revenue to 44 per cent in the 1760s. Unfortunately, rising military and administrative costs in Asia exceeded the increase in taxes. Also, as tea became more important to its China trade, and the quality of tea depended in part upon its freshness, the Company was slow to allow tea to be shipped directly from Canton to Europe instead of having it shipped first to Batavia in Chinese junks. Again, the VOC had trouble recruiting well-qualified officers and officials from the 1770s, since unlike the EIC it severely limited private trading. The result was a good deal of corruption; private trade continued to flourish but the profits from this trade did not enter VOC coffers. And since it had become a marginal operator on the Coromandel Coast and in Bengal compared to the English and French, the VOC could not trade cloth and opium for tea in Canton, as the English did, but were forced to use specie from Europe.94



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And once again, copper prices crashed on the Bengal coast. In the early 1740s, prices at Hooghly were 56 guilders per 100 Dutch lb., while they were at 60 guilders at Masulipatnam and 68 guilders at Nagapattinam. In the early 1760s, prices at Hooghly were 70 guilders, and at Nagapattinam 75 guilders.95 The Bengal coast was becoming increasingly unprofitable for the VOC. Finally, in the eighteenth century, European copper staged a comeback, superseding Japan copper. It was now the EIC which found exportation of European copper to India to be a profitable transaction, although Ryuto Shimada has claimed that Japan copper, which was of a higher quality as compared to the European, continued to be used for coinage that circulated in Bengal’s hinterlands, while European copper was used more as raw material for brass and artillery.96 Whatever the reasons, VOC textile trade was weak at Dhaka in 1747, and the French emerged as a serious contender to the English and Dutch (see Table 6.4).

Impediments to Trade This was the economic scenario within which the VOC operated. But, there were frequent impediments to their commercial operations in Bengal. In 1666 when the Dutch Company refused to sell 20,000 tolas of silver to the subahdar at Rajmahal—then the principal Mughal mint in Bengal—the latter had the minting of the Company’s silver stopped.97 But the VOC was not the only company to face such impediments. A similar case relates to 1728 when the English had to bribe the nawab of Dhaka before being allowed to use the imperial mint in the city.98 Between1707 and 1709, the Mughal Subahdar Azim-us-Shan, along with the diwan Murshid Quli Khan (later to become the first nawab of Bengal), accused the EIC of evading duties, stopped English boats passing through Rajmahal, detained the saltpetre boats and arrested William Cawthorpe, the EIC agent. The matter was seemingly settled in 1709 by the payment of Rs.45,000; but it was not resolved as late as 1710, because Azim-us-Shan had since been dethroned and Murshid Quli, now master of Bengal, demanded additional payment.99 The French too faced similar vexatious issues, until Dupleix tried to resolve the matter once and for all in 1738. Jagat Seth Fatehchand had at that time insisted that all transactions should take place in the

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currency of the country, i.e. Sicca Rupees, a move that the French feared would increase transaction costs in the Bengal trade.100 Extra duties had already been imposed on the VOC (and presumably other European companies) for mint use in 1677 and 1711 at Rajmahal and Murshidabad respectively. Dupleix therefore bought a parwana from the Bengal nawab to this effect in 1738 by paying Sicca Rs.50,000, so that the French could mint the siccas in Bengal, but this did not suit Pierre Benoit Dumas, the French Governor General for Pondicherry and Réunion who wanted to push the Pondicherry Arcots in Bengal.101 The Pondicherry Council also suspected that Indinaram, the company’s courtier or broker at Chandernagore from 1730 had forced the issue in favour of the Murshidabad court since he monopolized the textile investment.102 Such misgivings, and constant suspicion of native merchants, officials and brokers, colour European company correspondences, and the Dutch, too, were no exception to this rule.

Currency and Profits During the VOC’s golden age that lasted between 1630 and 1670, profits averaged 18 per cent of revenue, while during its expansion from 1680 to 1720 they went down to 10 per cent. From the 1730s to the 1780s, the cost of the company’s overheads in Asia and the decline of its profitability in both Europe and Asia saw its profits drop to 2–3 per cent of the total revenues.103 Yet, at the end of the eighteenth century, Dutch Arcots were still circulating in Bengal, although the Calcutta Sicca Rupee had become the official currency and revenue was collected only in the Sicca Rupee. The Dutch Arcots had a value of Sicca Rs.95 against the Murshidabad, Patna and Dhaka Arcots of 100 each (see Table 6.5).104 One may find interesting data on the relative strengths of the different currencies in circulation in the various regions of late eighteenth-century India, and their values against the Sicca Rupee as assayed at the Calcutta mint in Table 6.5. The value of the French Arcots was greater as late as in 1792 (97 against siccas at 100) against the EIC’s old and new Madras Arcots (95 plus and 96 plus, respectively, against 100). The Dutch Arcots were only slightly lower in value (95) than the EIC’s Madras Arcots, and valued below the



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TABLE  

6.5:  Comparative Value of European Currencies against Sicca Rupees from Assays by the Calcutta Mint in 1792

Species of Currency

Intrinsic Value Compared with Sicca Rupees

Murshidabad Siccas 100 Patna Siccas 100 Dhaka Siccas 100 Benares Siccas 99 Surat money 99,8,0 Delhi Mahomet Shahis 99,8,0 97 French Arcots Patanea (Patna ?) and Auranzeb Arcots 96,9,6 each Madras (new) Arcots 96,4,9 Masulipatnam Arcots 96 Madras Arcots (old) 95,14,6 Calcutta and Murshidabad Arcots 95,6,6 each Dutch Arcots 95 Surat Arcots 94 Source: Based on W.W. Hunter, The Annals of Rural Bengal, New York: Leypoldt and Holt, 1868.

Calcutta and Murshidabad Arcots of 95 plus each. The Patna and Aurangzeb Arcots were higher in value to both EIC and VOC Arcots. The fact that VOC Arcots were still circulating in Bengal at the end of the eighteenth century shows their strength was not in steep decline.

An Evaluation of the Dutch Presence in Bengal From the early 1600s, the Dutch had settled in Chinsurah, Kasimbazar, Baranagar, Balasore, Pipli, Patna, Dhaka and Maldah. The Fugger agent and the Dutchman Jan Huygen van Linschoten’s Itinerario of 1596, with its beautifully detailed maps of the trading regions of the Indian Ocean world, have to be seen in light of the changing configurations in the Indian Ocean trade mentioned in this essay. Dutch cartography greatly influenced subsequent English cartography. An active presence in Bengal, the Dutch had introduced new commercial practices and provided jobs to the local people.

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Om Prakash has estimated that due to EIC and VOC demand, the number of additional full-time jobs created in early eighteenthcentury Bengal can be estimated at approximately 100,000, accounting for around 10 per cent of the total workforce in the textile sector.105 It was estimated that in the 1660s, goods destined for Japan accounted for as much as 40 to 55 per cent of the VOC’s total exports from Bengal. Culturally, the Dutch influenced Bengal in many profound, but lesser known ways. The predecessor of Company paintings—the early Bengal school of oil painting, whose artists were mostly anonymous— was once designated as the Dutch-Bengal school. The artists worked in oil on canvas or on sometimes on wood, depicting mythological and religious subjects.

Innovations In the initial years of the eighteenth century, as the Dutch consolidated themselves in Bengal, they introduced innovations into business practices in Bengal which challenged—and ultimately decimated— the Mughal monopoly on circulation, mobility, production and trade from the early years of the eighteenth century. This can be seen from three instances. First, the Dutch Pilot Service’s expertise in sailing in the waters around Hooghly up to Patna meant that by the first half of the eighteenth century, the Dutch had the lead in controlling the inland waterways of southwest Bengal. Clashes with the Indian and European shipping were frequent. Second, this control facilitated VOC entry into the rural manufactories or arangs, much before the EIC’s direct entry into arangs with the Agency System in 1754. At that time, the English noted that the Dutch and Gujarat merchants had already entered into the Santipur arang. Direct entry by Europeans was prohibited by Mughal practice. In 1755, the EIC formed a board of arang management, and until 1770 this board operated under a Committee of Arangs under the President of the Calcutta Council.106 Third, in addition, unlike the English who established their own manufactories for weaving silk only from the second half of the eighteenth century, the Dutch had already established silk weaving manufactories at their settlement at Kasimbazar, where, around midseventeenth century, according to Bernier, 700 to 800 local people



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were employed, this number rising to 4,000 in the early eighteenth century.107 Centralized production fragmented indigenous production practices, disrupted the natural production cycle and rendered native mercantile authority over the weavers redundant, as the VOC transitioned from a major buyer of silk to an employer.

Dutch-Bengal Relations How did the Dutch in Bengal manoeuvre the complex political and commercial conditions in which they found themselves? The nature of the Company’s presence in Bengal has been considered purely commercial in the existent historiography, but recent studies suggest that it was certainly much more complex.108 While Om Prakash had emphasized conflict, or a Mughal merchant-official extortion of the VOC and the local brokers, Femme Gaastra highlighted both competition and collaboration.109 This essay saw the VOC profiting from its association with Mughal subahdars Mir Jumla and Shaista Khan who ruled Bengal from the 1650s to the 1680s. Can this association be called a partnership before empire? Ashin Das Gupta had characterized Indian merchants across the Indian Ocean as being in partnership with the VOC,110but Sanjay Subrahmanyam’s assessment wherein he emphasized a political economy where the occasional clashes between powerful Mughal portfolio-capitalists and the VOC (and EIC) merchants exhibited a ‘contained conflict’ seems more apposite.111 After 1757, when the British acquired a political foothold in Bengal, the VOC story was over. Chinsurah and the other Dutch settlements in Bengal were handed over to the English on 7 May 1825. In 1827, Fort Gustavus was largely destroyed by the English, part of its remaining structure is a section of the Chinsurah court.

Conclusion The essay noted that from an initially powerful position, the VOC gradually started losing prominence in Bengal. It became a tertiary power after 1757, trailing behind the French, its fate in Bengal finally sealed by defeat against the English at the Battle of Bidara in 1759. The VOC thenceforth decided to concentrate fully on its operations in the Indonesian archipelago, leaving India and Ceylon

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to the English East India Company. Therefore, when the peace of 1814 after the Napoleonic Wars restored Chinsurah to the Dutch, this restoration was neither permanent, nor did the VOC stay on in Bengal. Soon after, in 1825, it ceded its possessions in India to the British, in exchange for British possessions in Sumatra and moved back to the Indonesian archipelago.

A Temporal Inconsistency The five tables presented in this essay reveal contradictory pictures of period of decline of the Dutch in Bengal. Although it has been asserted that the VOC’s trade in Bengal tapered off after the 1740s, Table 6.1 showed that VOC shipping to East Asia was still higher than that of the EIC in the decade of 1781–90; but whether Bengal figured in this list is not clear. That the Dutch maintained the lead in the textile investment in Bengal was shown in Tables 6.2 and 6.3. Prakash had underlined a phase transition into decline only from the 1740s, in terms of its overall trading operations in Asia, the VOC was still distinctly ahead of its English rival, though in terms of the Europe-Asia trade alone, the latter had already taken a lead. This situation was altered radically by the time one approaches the year 1780. The greater part of the change took place in the years after 1760 when English trade from Bengal registered an unprecedented increase. A major circumstance contributing to this was the wresting of political authority by the EIC in Bengal, the most important region of its trade.112 This claim was substantiated in Table 6.4, and registered a Dutch commercial fall at Dhaka around 1747. Yet, despite the perceived fall in commercial fortunes, Fort Gustavus at Chinsurah was strengthened from the 1740s and not earlier, as mentioned. And Dutch Arcots continued to circulate in Bengal in 1792 at just a slightly lower value than EIC Arcots, as Table 6.5 showed. Whether Dutch trade in Bengal started tapering off in the 1740s, or perhaps just later, remains a subject of debate.

A New Chronology of Decline: The 1730s? My studies of the EIC trade at Kasimbazar suggested that VOC trade may have started tapering off from the 1730s itself. Between 1700 and 1730, English piloting of Bengal’s many rivers, creeks and inlets



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surpassed Dutch expertise in river pilotage; there was a quantum leap at this time in English navigational and technological knowledge that was visible in their application to commercial operations on the Hooghly. Benign pilotage now transformed into armed patrolling. As early as 1708–9, the EIC had threatened stoppage of the ‘Moor’s ships’ upriver.113 It was the same story downriver: in 1709, the EIC sent 50 soldiers and gunners to the Kidderpore chowki to ensure passage of its boats.114 The arrival of a new competitor, the Ostend Company at Bankibazar (1723–31), complicated further an already unstable situation. Soon after being nominated chief of the Ostend Company on 18 August 1724, Vincent Parraber organized a reception for the principal merchants of the area, served them betel and rose water as marks of honour, and asked them to join the Ostenders in a new commercial adventure under Belgian aegis. The English profited from the commercial turmoil because from this point on their reliance on the nawab’s forces for defence stopped; they started patrolling the Hooghly to defend their trade.115 From the 1730s, the EIC, flouting all nawabi authority, started armed patrolling of the inland waterways of Bengal. It impeded the passage of commercial goods, tried to extend its authority into the interior and harassed all shipping.116 In 1731, during Shuja-udDaulah’s rule, English boats were seized at the nawab’s customs house in Malda in an armed encounter; another clash with the nawab’s forces at the great mart of Bhagwangola led to the imprisonment of several EIC soldiers and the death of an English sergeant; there were more clashes over EIC rights of trade and passage during Alivardi Khan’s reign in the 1740s.117 Jan de Vries and Ad van der Woude have supported the premise of VOC trade declining from the 1730s, albeit indirectly, noting that the profits earned by the Company’s actual equity were modest after the 1650s, and vanishingly small after 1730.118 It has also been noted that from the 1730s up until the 1780s, the cost of the company’s overheads in Asia and the decline of its profitability in both Europe and Asia saw its profits drop to 2–3 per cent of total revenues. Since its dividends were greater than its profits, the VOC was forced to liquidate much of its trading capital in Europe and Asia, and begin to depend on short-term borrowing for its survival. It failed to expand its trade volume after 1730, despite several efforts at reform. By the

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1730s, VOC shares became more like bonds that paid 3–4 per cent in dividends with little hope of capital gains.119

A New Chronology of Decline—The End of the Eighteenth Century? Indeed, one can also argue, from the evidence presented in Table 6.5, that VOC presence in Bengal did not taper off from the 1730s or even in the 1740s, and that they continued to be a formidable presence in Bengal until the end of the eighteenth century. The Count of Modave saw, in the 1770s, that the VOC settlement at Kalikapur (near Kasimbazar) contained all the varieties of silk and silk piece goods that could be found in Bengal, no less an amount than what the EIC had in their warehouse at Kasimbazar.120 But one must remember that VOC trade in saltpetre and opium was no less important than its textile trade. Yet, the Count of Modave observed in the 1770s that VOC commerce in saltpetre and opium from Patna as almost negligible. Earlier VOC trade in opium was double that of the French and English combined, the VOC buying opium directly from the producers. The VOC now had to go through the EIC’s Council at Calcutta to purchase opium.121 I submit one needs to distinguish between the VOC trade in textiles and its other branches of trade while tracing its decline. One should also distinguish between VOC trade in general and Dutch presence and/or influence in Bengal. It has been noted that VOC trade in textiles continued, while its trade in saltpetre and opium languished; this will also be borne out by Sushil Chaudhuri’s contribution to this volume. And, if the focus is shifted from the prevailing picture of declining trade, lessened political influence and navigational prowess of the VOC within Bengal and if we also move our attention away from the statistics on the overall decline in VOC profitability in The Netherlands and Asia, and focus on a continuing Dutch influence instead, one may find that the picture is modified somewhat. Of course, it is certain that increasing political power after 1757 and control over the Bengal revenues from 1765 made the EIC the most powerful player in Bengal around the mid-century mark, but even in the decade of 1781–90, EIC’s shipping tonnage to East Asia,



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within which Bengal figured, was lower than that of the VOC (see Table 6.1). As late as in 1792, Dutch Arcots in Bengal had a relatively high circulation value (see Table 6.5). These facts prove that the trajectory of decline needs more research.

New Directions in Dutch-Bengal Studies New ways of seeing Bengal-Dutch relations have appeared in recent years in the works of scholars such as Markus Vink, Richard Allen and E.A. Alpers. They have moved consciously away from the conventional practice of seeing Dutch trade in Bengal as merely a dimension of VOC trade in India, or as a counterpoint to EIC trade, and attempted to link the story of the Dutch in Bengal to global developments in world trade instead. These scholars have pointed out not only Bengal’s importance in the VOC’s slave trade in the Indian Ocean, but also the extended connections of this trade to the transAtlantic slave trade.122 More recently, others have seen the Dutch empire in terms of agents, networks and institutions, emphasizing mobility and information.123 I hope further research on Bengal-Dutch interactions will shed light on more such neglected aspects of the Bengal-Dutch encounter and present a new history of Bengal; one not merely based on trade statistics that can only present a story of a passage from prosperity to decline for both. At the same time, a fresh look at Bengal-Dutch contacts can make the history of the Dutch in Bengal part of a global history of Europeans in Asia before empire. Such a strategy also catapults eighteenth-century Bengal into a world stage not merely as colonial subject, but as a player within global imperial networks. The future of the history of the Dutch presence in Bengal therefore lies in the recasting of the VOC story into one of comparative global currents of circulation, mobility, trade and cultural capital linking the Asian and Atlantic worlds.

Notes   1. Om Prakash, ‘The Dutch and the English East India Companies Trade in Indian Textiles in the Seventeenth and the Eighteenth Century: A Comparative View’, in Goods from the East, 1600–1800. Europe’s

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  2.   3.   4.

  5.

  6.   7.   8.

A Comprehensive History of Modern Bengal Asian Centuries, ed. M. Berg et al., London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015, pp. 183–94. The author has referenced only English-language works, as she is unfamiliar with the Dutch language. C.R. Boxer, The Dutch Seaborne Empire 1600–1800, New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1965. Jacob Cornelius Van Leur, Indonesian Trade and Society: Essays in Asian Social and Economic History, The Hague, Bandung: W. van Hoeve, 1955; Kristof Glamann, Dutch-Asiatic Trade 1620–1740 (1958), repr., The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1981; M.A.P. Meilink-Roelofsz, Asian Trade and European Influence in the Indonesian Archipelago Between 1500 and about 1630, The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1962; Femme S. Gaastra, ‘Competition or Collaboration? Relations between the Dutch East India Company and Indian Merchants around 1680’, in Merchants, Companies and Trade: Europe and Asia in the Early Modern Era, ed. Sushil Chaudhury and Michel Morineau, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999, pp. 189–201; Femme S. Gaastra, The Dutch East India Company: Expansion and Decline, Zutphen: Walburg Pers, 2003. Markus Vink, Dutch Sources on South Asia c.1660–1825 (Vol. 4): Mission to Madurai: Dutch Embassies to the Nayaka Court of Madurai in the Seventeenth Century, Delhi: Manohar, 2012; Markus Vink, Encounters on the Opposite Coast: The Dutch East India Company and the Nayaka State of Madurai in the Seventeenth Century, Leiden: Brill, 2015. See too, George D. Winius and Markus P.M. Vink, The Merchant-Warrior Pacified. The VOC (The Dutch East India Company) and its Changing Political Economy in India, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1991. Dutch records and other Dutch material concerning South Asia, including Bengal, from the period 1600–1825 are described in detail in a series of archival guidebooks (which also include extensive bibliographies) titled: Jos Gommans et al., Dutch Sources on South Asia, c.1600–1825, Vol. 1: Bibliography and Archival Guide to the National Archives at The Hague (The Netherlands), New Delhi: Manohar, 2001; Lennart Bes, Dutch Sources on South Asia, c.1600–1825, Vol. 2: Archival Guide to the Repositories in The Netherlands Other than the National Archives, New Delhi: Manohar, 2007; Lennart Bes and Gijs Kruijtzer, Dutch Sources on South Asia, c.1600–1825, Vol. 3: Archival Guide to Repositories outside The Netherlands, New Delhi: Manohar, 2015. Catia Antunes and Jos Gommans, eds., Exploring the Dutch Empire: Agents, Networks and Institutions, 1600–2000, London: Bloomsbury, 2015. Kalikinkar Datta, The Dutch in Bengal and Bihar, ad 1740–1825, 2nd edn., Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 2017. A select list of Om Prakash’s publications are year-wise: co-edited with



  9.   10.   11.

  12.

  13.   14.   15.   16.

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D.P. Chattopadhyaya, The Trading World of the Indian Ocean, 1500–1800, vol. 3, pt. 7, History of Science, Philosophy and Culture in Indian Civilization, New Delhi: Pearson, 2012; The Dutch Factories in India: A Collection of Dutch East India Company documents pertaining to India 1624–1627, vol. II, New Delhi: Manohar, 2007; Bullion For Goods, European and Indian Merchants in the Indian Ocean Trade, 1500–1800, New Delhi: Manohar, 2004; co-edited with Denys Lombard, Commerce and Culture in the Bay of Bengal, 1500–1800, New Delhi: Manohar, 1999; European Commercial Enterprise in Pre-colonial India, vol. II.5, New Cambridge History of India, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998 (paperback edition printed in 2000); European Commercial Expansion in Early Modern Asia, vol. X, Expanding World, Hampshire, UK: Variorum, 1997; Asia and the Pre-modern World Economy, Leiden: International Institute for Asian Studies, 1995; Precious Metals and Commerce: The Dutch East India Company in the Indian Ocean Trade, Hampshire, UK: Variorum, 1994; The Dutch East India Company and the Economy of Bengal, 1630–1720, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press/Bombay: Oxford University Press, 1985–8; The Dutch Factories in India, 1617–1623: A collection of Dutch East India Company documents pertaining to India, vol. I, New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal, 1984. Gerard Koot, ‘The VOC, the Dutch East India Company, 1602–1799’, p. 19 see www1.umassd.edu/euro/resources/imagesessays/thevoc.docx, accessed 10 July 2018. Monique de la Roncière, ‘Manuscript Charts by John Thornton, Hydrographer of the East India Company (1669–1701)’, Imago Mundi, vol. 19, 1965, pp. 46–50. Emily Erikson and Peter Bearman, ‘Malfeasance and the Foundations for Global Trade: The Structure of English Trade in the East Indies, 1601–1833’, American Journal of Sociology, vol. 112, no. 1, July 2006, pp. 195–230; idem., ‘Routes into Networks: The Structure of English Trade in the East Indies, 1601–1833’, ISERP Working Paper 04–07, December 2004. Dan Bogart, ‘There can be no Partnership with the King: Regulatory Commitment and the Tortured Rise of England’s East Indian Merchant Empire’, 2015, see https://eml.berkeley.edu/~webfac/seminars/bogart_ 211seminar.pdf, accessed 20 July 2018. Koot, ‘The VOC, the Dutch East India Company’, p. 7. Ibid., pp. 10–13. Ibid., pp. 15–16. Om Prakash, ‘The Dutch East India Company Documentation as Source Material for Writing Indian History’, in Beyond National Frames: South

280

 17.

  18.   19.   20.   21.

  22.   23.

 24.

 25.  26.   27.

  28.

 29.   30.   31.

  32.

A Comprehensive History of Modern Bengal Asian Pasts and the World, ed. Rila Mukherjee, Delhi: Primus, 2014, p. 176. See, Meilink-Roelofsz, R. Raben and H. Spijkerman, De archieven van de Verenigde Oostindische Compagnie, pp. 175–216, 319, 329–32, and http:// databases.tanap.net/ead/html/1.04.02/index.html, sections “Deel I/E.5.a”, “Deel II/E.5.20” and “Deel II/G.1”; cited in Lennart Bes, ‘Depiction of Dhaka in Dutch Records’, in 400 Years of Capital Dhaka and Beyond, Vol. 2, Economy and Culture, ed. M. Mufakharul Islam and Firoz Mahmud, Dhaka: Asiatic Society of Bangladesh, 2011. Bes, ‘Depiction of Dhaka’. For a more detailed look into the Dutch sources, see, Prakash, ‘The Dutch East India Company Documentation’, p. 179. Ibid., p. 182. Quoted in Om Prakash, The Dutch East India Company and the Economy of Bengal, 1630–1720, 1985; repr., Bombay: Oxford University Press, 1988, pp. 104–5. Koot, ‘The VOC, the Dutch East India Company’, p. 5. Om Prakash, ed., Dutch Factories in India, 1617–23, vol. I, Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal, 1984, s.v. V.1, p. 126; VII.3, pp. 197–9; VII.6, p. 218; VIII.6, p. 80. Prakash, The Dutch East India Company and the Economy of Bengal; Rila Mukherjee, Merchants and Companies in Bengal: Kasimbazar and Jugdia in the Eighteenth Century, New Delhi: Pragati, 2006. Ashin Das Gupta, Indian Merchants and the Decline of Surat c.1700–1750, Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner Verlag, 1979. Mukherjee, Merchants and Companies, p. 117. Henry Bornford at Surat to the Company, 29 April 1636 {O.C. 1560), in William Foster, English Factories in India, vol. 5, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1911, p. 229. Kristof Glamann, ‘The Dutch East India company’s trade in Japanese copper, 1645–1736’, Scandinavian Economic History Review, vol. 1, no. 1, 1953, p. 45. Prakash, The Dutch East India Company and the Economy of Bengal, p. 23. Koot, ‘The VOC, the Dutch East India Company’, p. 15; Glamann, ‘The Dutch East India company’s trade in Japanese copper’, p. 45. Glamann, ‘The Dutch East India company’s trade in Japanese copper’, see p. 77 mentioning the English using Macau to trans-ship Japan copper to Bengal in April 1680. William Foster, English Factories in India, vol. 1, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1906, p. 230.



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  33. R.C. Temple, ed., The Diaries of Streynsham Master, 1675–1680, vol. 2, London: Murray, 1911, p. 68.   34. William Foster, English Factories in India, vol. 11, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1923, p. 399.   35. Jean Deloche, ed., Voyage en Inde du Comte de Modave, Paris: Ecole Francaise d’Extreme Orient, 1971, p. 345.   36. For voyages to the Gulf in the period 1624–9, see, William Foster, English Factories in India, vol. 3, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1909.   37. William Foster, English Factories in India, vol. 4, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1910, pp. 240, 278.   38. William Foster, English Factories in India, vol. 7, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1913, p. 198.   39. Ibid., p. xviii.   40. Ibid., p. 283.   41. William Foster, English Factories in India, vol. 10, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1921, pp. 24–5, 56.   42. Deloche, ed., Comte de Modave, p. 351.   43. See ‘Letter of 20 January 1628’ and ‘Letter of 21 December 1628’, in Foster, English Factories in India, vol. 3, pp. 222–3 and 308–9, respectively.   44. President Merry and Messrs. Pearce and Oxenden at Swally Marine to the Company, 31 January 1651 (O.C. 2204), in William Foster, English Factories in India, vol. 9, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1915, p. 34.   45. Ibid., p. xxx.   46. R. Barlow and H. Yule, eds., Diary of William Hedges, vol. 1, London: Hakluyt Society, 1887, p. 153.   47. Ibid., p. 154; Glamann, ‘The Dutch East India company’s trade in Japanese copper’, pp. 76–7.   48. Chandra Richard de Silva, ‘The Portuguese East India Company 1628–1633’, Luso-Brazilian Review, vol. 11, no. 2, Winter, 1974, p. 184; A.R. Disney, ‘The First Portuguese India Company, 1628–33’, The Economic History Review, n.s., vol. 30, no. 2, May 1977, p. 247, fn. 6.   49. Koot, ‘The VOC, the Dutch East India Company’, p. 15.   50. Barlow and Yule, eds., Diary of William Hedges, vol. 1, pp. 129–30.   51. Byapti Sur, ‘The Dutch East India Company through the Local Lens: Exploring the Dynamics of Indo-Dutch Relations in Seventeenth Century Bengal’, Indian Historical Review, vol. 44, no. 1, 2017, p. 68.   52. Agent Greenhill and William Gurney at Fort St. George to the Company, 14 January 1652 {O.C. 2246} in Foster, The English Factories in India, vol. 9, p. 95.  53. Prakash, The Dutch East India Company and the Economy of Bengal, p. 232.

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  54. Bauke Van der Pol, The Dutch East India Company in India: A Heritage Tour Through Gujarat, Malabar, Coromandel, and Bengal, Bath: Paragon, 2014, p. 57.   55. Sur, ‘The Dutch East India Company’.  56. Prakash, The Dutch East India Company and the Economy of Bengal, p. 60.   57. Van der Pol, The Dutch East India Company, p. 57.   58. Ibid., p. 57.   59. Prakash, ‘The Dutch and the English East India Companies Trade’.   60. Ibid.; Koot, ‘The VOC, the Dutch East India Company’, p. 15.   61. Glamann, ‘The Dutch East India company’s trade in Japanese copper’, pp. 42, 47, 51, 53.   62. Ibid., pp. 44, 67.   63. C.R. Wilson, The Early Annals of the English in Bengal, Being The Bengal Public Consultations for the First Half of the Eighteenth Century, Summarised, Extracted, and Edited with Introductions and Illustrative Addenda, London/Calcutta: Thacker, Spink & Co, 1895, p. 24.   64. President Methwold and Messrs. Mountney, Fremlen, Turner, and Cooper in Swally Road to the Company, 29 December 1634 {O.C. 1543 a}, in Foster, The English Factories in India, vol. 5, p. 81.  65. Wilson, The Early Annals; Barlow and Yule, eds., Diary of William Hedges, vol. 1, p. 35 and pp. 173–4: entries of 11 October 1682 and 26 December 1684. For Dutch harassment of the EIC in the Indian Ocean, see, Foster, English Factories in India, vol. 2, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1908.   66. Barlow and Yule, eds., Diary of William Hedges, vol. 1, pp. 38–9.  67. Foster, English Factories in India, vol. 10, p. 305.  68. Foster, English Factories in India, vol. 11, pp. 69–70.  69. Foster, English Factories in India, vol. 10, p. 164.   70. Richard Carnac Temple, ed., Thomas Bowrey, A Geographical Account of Countries round the Bay of Bengal, 1669–75, series II, vol. XII, London: Hakluyt Society.   71. Barlow and Yule, eds., Diary of William Hedges, vol. 2, p. lxii.  72. Mukherjee, Merchants and Companies, pp. xxxv–vi.   73. Robert Challes, Journal d’un Voyage fait aux Indes Orientales, 3 vols., Paris: Mercure de France, 2002; see also, Gregoire de Challes, Journal d’un Voyage fait aux Indes Orientales Etc., Rouen, 1721, in Jules Sottas, Histoire de la Compagnie Royale des Indes Orientales, 1664–1719, Paris: Plon-Nourrit, 1905, pp. 161–378; Luiller, Voyage du Sieur Luiller aux Indes Orientales avec une Instruction pour le commerce des Indes Orientales, Paris: Claude Cellier, 1705.   74. Letter of Methwold, etc., in Swally Road to the Company, 29 December 1634 {O.C. 1543 a}, in Foster, The English Factories in India, vol. 5, p. 81; Letter of Thomas Joyce and Nathaniel Wyche at Masulipatam to the



  75.

 76.   77.  78.

 79.   80.   81.  82.  83.   84.  85.   86.   87.

 88.   89.  90.

  91.   92.   93.   94.

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Company, 25 October 1634 (O.C. 1536), in Foster, The English Factories in India, vol. 5, p. 43. G.T. Labey and R.K.H. Brice, The History of the Bengal Pilot Service: Being an Account of the Navigation of the Hooghly River, National Maritime Museum, 1970, Ref. THS/12/1–9; William Foster, English Factories in India, vol. 13, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1927, p. 314. Foster, English Factories in India, vol. 13, pp. 167–8. Letter of Joyce and Wyche at Masulipatam to the Company, 25 October 1634 (O.C. 1536), in Foster, The English Factories in India, vol. 5, pp. 42–3. Foster, English Factories in India, vol. 11, pp. 64, 66, 180–2, 290, 292, 295; Foster, English Factories in India, vol. 12, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1925, p. 136; Foster, English Factories in India, vol. 13, p. 169, 170, 300–1, 302, 305–6, 310, 314. Foster, The English Factories in India, vol. 7, p. xxii. Hague Transcripts, series i, vol. xvii, no. 529. Messrs. Lewis, Young, Wycherley, and Park at Gombroon to [the President and Council at Surat], 20 March 1652 {O.C. 2263), in Foster, The English Factories in India, vol. 9, p. 117. Foster, English Factories in India, vol. 13, p. 316. Wilson, The Early Annals, p. 400. Barlow and Yule, eds., Diary of William Hedges, vol. 1, p. 153; vol. 2, p. lvi. Wilson, The Early Annals, p. 400. Deloche, ed., Comte de Modave, p. 82. Sharifuddin Ahmed, ‘Evaluation of some Artisans, Craftsmen and Professional Classes of Dhaka City and their settlements’, in Commercial History of Dhaka, ed. Sirajul Islam, Dhaka: Chamber of Commerce and Industry in association with Asiatic Society, 2009, p. 260. Foster, English Factories in India, vol. 11, p. 71. Jean-Baptiste Tavernier, Travels in India, tr. V. Ball and W. Crooke, vol. 2, London: Oxford University Press, 1925, p. 2. Bes, ‘Depiction of Dhaka’, cites: ‘see www.tanap.net, under “Search”, and next under “Search in the VOC inventories” and “Search in the Database of VOC documents”, respectively’. Note that the entries are not online, this is only a database. Based on Table II: Quantities of Copper Sold at the Company’s Indian Factories 1701–24 (Dutch lbs.), in Glamann, ‘The Dutch East India company’s trade in Japanese copper’, p. 54. Deloche, ed., Comte de Modave, p. 84. Glamann, ‘The Dutch East India company’s trade in Japanese copper’, p. 67; W.W. Hunter, A Statistical Account of Bengal, vol. IX, London: Trubner & Co., 1876, p. 174. Koot, ‘The VOC, the Dutch East India Company’, pp. 16–19.

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  95. Ryuto Shimada, The Intra-Asian Trade in Japanese Copper by the Dutch East India Company During the Eighteenth Century, Netherlands: Brill, 2006, p. 124.   96. Glamann, ‘The Dutch East India company’s trade in Japanese copper’, p. 43; Shimada, The Intra-Asian Trade in Japanese Copper, p. 172.   97. See NA, H.B. 1.4.1666, VOC 1258, ff.2238–9, in Prakash, ‘The Dutch East India Company Documentation’, p. 186, n. 22.   98. S. Bhattacharya, The East India Company and the Economy of Bengal from 1704 to 1740, Calcutta: Firma K.L. Mukhopadhyay, 1969, p. 105.  99. Wilson, The Early Annals, pp. 308–10, 328–30. 100. Alfred Martineau, Correspondance du Conseil Superieur de Pondichery et de la Compagnie etc., vol. 2, 1736–1738, Pondichery, Societe Historique de l’Inde Francaise, n.d. Entries of 24 January 1738, pp. 106–7, 5 March 1738, pp. 129–31. 101. Martineau, Correspondance, vol. 2, 15 October 1738, pp. 148–50; 15 October 1738, pp. 245–6. 102. Martineau, Correspondance, vol. 2, 5 March 1738, pp. 128–9. Indrani Roy suggests that Indinaram had powerful friends at the court in Murshidabad, see, Indrani Roy, ‘Observations on the Trade of Bengal’, Journal de l’Institut de Chandernagor, vol. 1, 1970, pp. 102–9, esp. p. 106. Indinaram is Indranarayan Choudhury, merchant of Chandernagore. See, Harihar Sett, Shankhipto Chandannagar Parichay, ed. Debdatta De, 1963; repr., Chandernagore: Chandannagar Pustakagar, 2010, p. 176. Once Dupleix joined Chandernagore in 1731, the trade increased and commercial fortunes of Indranarayan and Dupleix became intertwined. 103. Koot, ‘The VOC, the Dutch East India Company’, p. 16. 104. Mathew Day, Collector of Dhaka, to the Revenue Board, 22 November 1787, in, Bangladesh District Records: Dacca District, ed. Sirajul Islam, vol. 1, (1784–1787), pp. 420–1; W.W. Hunter, Annals of Rural Bengal, 1868. Accountant General to William Douglas, Collector of Dhaka, 13 September 1791, Dhaka District Records, Bangladesh National Archives in Sirajul Islam, ‘Business History of Dhaka up to 1947’, in Commercial History of Dhaka, ed. Sirajul Islam, Dhaka: Chamber of Commerce and Industry in association with Asiatic Society, 2009, p. 23. 105. Prakash, The Dutch East India Company and the Economy of Bengal, Chapter 8. 106. Mukherjee, Merchants and Companies, p. 89. 107. Archibald Constable, Travels in the Mogul Empire, tr., Francois Bernier, second edition revised by Vincent A. Smith, London: Oxford University Press, 1916, p. 440; Van der Pol, The Dutch East India Company, p. 51. 108. Byapti Sur, ‘Individual Interests Behind the Institutional Façade: The Dutch East India Company’s Legal Presence in Seventeenth-Century Mughal Bengal’, Itinerario, vol. 42, no. 2, 2018, pp. 279–94.



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109. Om Prakash, ‘The Dutch East India Company in Bengal: Trade Privileges and Problems’, Indian Economic and Social History Review, vol. 9, no. 3, 1972, pp. 280–5; Gaastra, ‘Competition or Collaboration?’ 110. Ashin Das Gupta, ‘Indian Merchants in the Age of Partnership, c.1500– 1800’, in The World of the Indian Ocean Merchant, 1500–1800, ed. Uma Das Gupta, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2001, pp. 122–33. 111. See Sanjay Subrahmanyam, Explorations in Connected History: Mughals and Franks, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2005. 112. Prakash, ‘The Dutch and the English East India Companies Trade’. 113. Wilson, The Early Annals, p. 324. 114. Ibid., p. 314. 115. Georges-Henri Dumont, Banquibazar: La Colonisation Belge au Bengale au temps de la Compagnie de l’Ostende, Bruxelles: Les Ecrits, 1942, pp. 151–5; Rila Mukherjee, ed., ‘The Eighteenth Century South Asian Economy: Another Look at English, French and Belgian Records’ in Beyond National Frames: South Asian Pasts and the World, Delhi: Primus, 2014, pp. 232–3. 116. ee Rila Mukherjee, ‘The Last Commercial Frontier: French and English Presence in South Eastern Bengal and Beyond in the Second Half of the Eighteenth Century’, Indian Historical Review, vol. 34, no. 1, 2007, pp. 167–86; Rila Mukherjee, ‘In Search of White Gold: Chandernagore in the Records of the Compagnie des Indes Orientales and the Compagnie des Indes, 1701–49’, in Convergence: Rethinking India’s Past, ed. Radhika Seshan, Delhi: Primus, 2014, pp. 77–108. 117. Mentioned in Sudipta Sen’s chapter in this volume. 118. Jan de Vries and Ad van der Woude, The First Modern Economy: Success, Failure, and Perseverance of the Dutch Economy, 1500–1800, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997, p. 463. 119. Koot, ‘The VOC, the Dutch East India Company’, pp. 16, 18. 120. Deloche, ed., Comte de Modave, pp. 110–12. 121. Ibid., pp. 133, 61–2. 122. Markus Vink, ‘The World’s Oldest Trade: Dutch Slavery and Slave Trade in the Indian Ocean in the Seventeenth Century’, Journal of World History, vol. 14, no. 2, 2003, pp. 140–2; Richard B. Allen, European Slave Trading in the Indian Ocean, 1500–1850, Indian Ocean Studies Series, Athens: Ohio University Press, 2014; Edward Alpers, ‘Africa and Africans in the Making of Early Modern India’, in The Indian Ocean in the Making of Early Modern India, ed. Pius Malekandathil, New Delhi: Manohar, 2015,  p. 67. 123. Antunes and Gommans, eds., Exploring the Dutch Empire: Agents, Networks and Institutions, 1600–2000.

7 Demography, Man and Nature in Bengal, c.1770–1930 Arun Bandopadhyay

O

ne interesting feature of the studies in ecological history is its impact on economic change in the long run. In this context, it is quite in order to probe into the patterns of agrarian change in different parts of modern Bengal over a long period, say from the late eighteenth to the end of the nineteenth century and beyond, and to relate them to two other important variables: ecological and demographic changes. The present study is specifically connected with two parts of what was known as the Bengal Presidency in the colonial India, with special reference to the period from the Bengal Famine of 1770 to about 1930. Here, generally speaking, agriculture did not decline in the late pre-colonial period, say in the first half of the eighteenth century, though agricultural resources remained underutilized because of labour shortage in some areas. The first major setback was noticeable with the devastating famine of 1770, with its prolonged but variable impact in the two areas mentioned above. The simultaneous demographic reverses and an independent course of ecological changes were also noticeable by the end of the eighteenth century. Population changes and more importantly redistribution of population in several parts of Bengal were remarkable developments of nineteenth century, but by that time a radical ecological change with its ominous effect in public health had occurred in between western and eastern parts of the region. Since the essay focuses on the complex inter-connection amongst ecological, demographic and agrarian changes of Bengal in the late



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eighteenth and nineteenth century, it has identified a text written by a leading economist and sociologist of India in the early twentieth century, who surprisingly happened to be one of the early ecologist also, for a critical re-evaluation. This essay re-examines an important argument from Radhakamal Mukherjee’s The Changing Face of Bengal (University of Calcutta, 1938, revd edn. 2009) not only as a significant contribution in human geography, demography, economic history and irrigation studies of Bengal, but also as one of the earliest ecologic studies in the process. The present essay has three parts: in the first part, a brief idea has been given on the broad ecologic, demographic, and agrarian changes of Bengal during the period; in the second part, a careful reading of Mukherjee’s book is made in the context of the on-going debates on a number of crucial issues in the first and second quarters of the twentieth century, with reference to other works of time; and in the third and final part, the crucial issues raised by the essay are re-examined in the light of environmental experience and arguments more commonly visible in the twentieth century. One hidden assumption of the present essay is that the use of an argument in analytical context gets larger significance in the context of the questions that it handles and the discourses contended. This study on ecology, demography and agrarian change in Bengal in the nineteenth century and beyond is a modest attempt to re-examine and re-evaluate the significance of the above arguments in the context of an intellectual debate that preceded and followed Mukherjee’s intervention.

The Demographic Change of Bengal The year 1770, the year of the great Bengal Famine, is the starting point of our study. The agrarian scene in Bengal was marked by the scarcity of people and the vast stretches of the uncultivated fertile land. Two centuries later, as Sugata Bose has argued, land in two Bengals—West Bengal and Bangladesh in the 1970s—had some of the highest densities of population and some of the lowest yield in production in the world.1 What happened in the intervening years in terms of demographic and agrarian change in Bengal—seen from a sort of historical perspective of the longue durée—is interesting to us not necessarily as a causal determinant of the nature and course of agrarian developments but as a defining principle of parameters

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within which rural change occurred. Demographic change can work both as a positive and negative trigger for agrarian production, and therefore can be both an independent and dependent factor for change. Taken together, demography and agrarian change in Bengal in the late eighteenth and the nineteenth century make more interesting reading if placed within the ecologic change of the period. It is generally believed that geographic structures are constants, as argued in more notable works of Fernand Braudel and Emmanuel Le Roy Laudurie.2 However, the Bengal situation in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries provides a sharp contrast. Nothing was really permanent in Bengal; there was little that endured in these great deltas of rivers. The turbulent hydrography of rivers of Bengal greatly influenced the course of agrarian change and demographic pattern. B.N. Ganguli talked about the periodic breakouts in the river system in the region, which were brought on by a process of gradual leveling of the land and silting of the old river-beds.3 The net effect was a major ecologic change. From the 1770s to about the middle of the 1860s, all parts of Bengal shared a secular trend of population increase which was more marked in some regions than in others. This was also an all India trend.4 However, there was a remarkable impact of the Famine of 1770 on the demographic profile in Bengal which took several decades to recover from it. The mortality in the Famine was catastrophic: W.W. Hunter’s estimation was of a death toll of 10 million out of 30 million inhabitants of Bengal and Bihar.5 Durgaprasad Bhattacharya who has worked throughout his life on pre-Census data of India has confirmed this high figure of mortality, though keeping the death toll slightly less than one-third. Aditee Nag Chaudhuri-Zilly has indicated that the death toll and desertions were more in West Bengal than in Eastern Bengal, and they continued for long.6 The recovery was also slow for several decades, but then it kept up. The demographic behaviour of Western Bengal and Eastern Bengal diverged significantly from the middle of the nineteenth century to the first two decades of the twentieth century.7 In East Bengal, the birth rate was slightly higher and death rate lower than those in West Bengal throughout the period. Professor B.B. Chaudhuri has made a significant study on the agricultural growth in Bengal and Bihar during the long period of 1770–1860, and has concluded that the co-existence of decline and



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growth happened to be the most crucial feature of it.8 He has of course related agrarian and demographic change in a number of districts of Bengal and Bihar, and there is a rough comparison between the former’s eastern and western part. Much later, when he was writing his larger volume on peasant history of late pre-colonial and colonial India, Chaudhuri has specifically taken up the issues of agrarian change in two parts of Bengal since 1855, compared them often, and brought the ecological issues in his analysis.9 If the pre-Census data on the demographic profile of Bengal are inadequate and unreliable at the same time, the demographic change can more readily be assessed since the first official Census of 1872. Over half a century from 1872 to 1921, the total population of Bengal grew only by 37.2 per cent, which suggests an annual growth of 0.74 per cent over the 50 years. During this period, because of many reasons, population actually declined in parts of West Bengal.10 During the same period, population declined in several districts, by 3.2 per cent in Burdwan, by 0.5 per cent in Birbhum, by 3.5 per cent in Hoogly, and 0.3 per cent in Nadia. Despite the industrial development of Calcutta and its suburbs, there was no sizeable increase of population of the Presidency Division of Bengal. The same is true of North Bengal where no considerable increase of population was noted during this period, except the immigration induced by tea plantation and forest reclamation in the thinly populated districts of Darjeeling and Jalpaiguri. Thus the settled agricultural areas of West and North Bengal showed no natural increase, and the registered increases in population were mainly due to ‘immigration induced by the expansion of industrial complex of tea, jute and coal, and large-scale reclamation of thinly populated forest regions like the Sunderbans and the Barind.’11 By contrast, there was substantial growth of population in East Bengal, amounting to 72.4 per cent in these fifty years, which indicates a growth of 1.44 per cent per annum, itself a high growth by the contemporary standard. Scholars who have made a comparative study of demographic trajectories of two Bengals in the long term have noticed broader historical factors such as topography, settlement pattern, fertility of the soil, prosperity, birth rate and state of health.12 In this general context of analytical frameworks, it is important and would be highly in order to go to a text which for the first time addressed the issues of demographic and agrarian change under the

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broad rubric of ecological transformation in all its subtleties. Hence comes my interest in Radhakamal Mukherjee’s Changing Face of Bengal.

The Changing Face of Bengal: A Review The present section is a re-evaluation of an important work in the name of a review where the re-view is three-fold. First of all, it is just the looking at the book closely at the time of its re-issue after a long time. Second, it makes a critical appreciation of the main contention of the book seemingly having significant intellectual antecedents and its own forceful arguments for and against them. Thirdly, the main contention is then re-evaluated in the context of hindsight, the contemporary developments that especially took place in the last eighty years. Radhakamal Mukherjee was a legendary Professor of Economics and Sociology at the University of Lucknow and was a reputed contemporary thinker. His celebrated book entitled The Changing Face of Bengal: A Study in Riverine Economy, originally published by the Calcutta University (CU) in 1938, was long out of print. It was quite unfortunate not only because of the fact that the book was a significant contribution in human geography, demography, economic history and irrigation studies of Bengal, but it happened to be an oft-cited work. While steps have been taken seventy years after its original publication by the CU to reprint the volume in 2009, it will be perfectly in order to ‘re-view’ the significance of the work in the contexts of the intellectual debate in which it was written and the debate that followed it and continued even after Independence. We are specifically concerned here about one of the main contentions of Mukherjee on ‘the Changing Face’ of West Bengal. It came in the wake of a vigorous debate in the early twentieth century that sought for an explanation of the decline of agriculture and public health in Western Bengal, including Burdwan, which had taken place in about 80 years before the original publication of Mukherjee’s book. The Changing Face of Bengal is the product of Readership Lectures delivered by Radhakamal Mukherjee at the University of Calcutta in 1937. Designed in a grand scheme as ‘preface’ to Riverine Economics, the book goes on to describe the gift of the Ganges in the region in



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making the old and the new delta in the last three centuries, with agricultural and demographic contrasts. The book also dwells on the agricultural decadence and public health in the early twentieth century. Based on a detailed study of historical geography, especially in the changes of river courses and formation of ports in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, followed by a coverage of more recent trends in the River and the Delta in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the book builds up a case for the ‘Silt as the Track of Civilisation’, incidentally the title of its last chapter. Thoroughly researched, the volume is appended by 23 rare Maps, Diagrams and Statistical Tables. To begin with, it will be perfectly in order to focus on the main contention of Mukherjee. His discussion on the causes of the river changes and development in undivided Bengal are particularly remarkable. In this deltaic region, the pre-mature decline of the old rivers or sudden rise and violence of the new ones are natural features of the landscape intersected by many rivers, spill channels and sub-channels. As the riverbeds rise higher, the river loses connection with the headwater and languishes with some of its spill channels. From about the seventeenth century, the Bhagirathi declined along with some Nadia rivers, while the Brahmaputra came into prominence definitely by the middle of the eighteenth century, bringing unprecedented expansion of agriculture in North Bengal. The Jamuna played a bridging role between the Ganga and the Brahmaputra, and after the inundation of 1787, the Tista finally linked up with the latter. The Padma had already been formed by the united mass of waters on the junction of the Kosi with the Ganga, and she met Brahmaputra near Goalundo in Dhaka. Her mighty waters finally combined with the Meghna, virtually changing the ecological map of Bengal. Thus, Radhakamal Mukherjee writes, [during] the last three decades of the eighteenth century not less than six new rivers appeared on the scene, remoulding Bengal’s economic history, viz., the Tista, the Jamuna, the Jelangi, the Mathabhanga, the Kirtinasa and the Naya Bhangini. This revolution in Bengal’s river system was due to the cumulative effects of the changes in the up-river areas, the catastrophic inundations of 1769–70 and 1786–88 and the earthquake of 1762. Both geography and history were remade in Bengal as the eighteenth century drew to a close.

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There were many effects of these topographical changes in the next two centuries. First, the most active portions of the Bengal delta were now shifted to eastern Bengal, which constituted the most populous and productive region of the Ganga valley. Both the doublecropped area and the area under the wet variety of rice increased and co-existed with heavy rural density. Most of these changes probably occurred within a short span of hundred years after the middle of the nineteenth century. Secondly, the upper delta, particularly the central and western Bengal, became comparatively moribund during the same period. The fertility of the soil had declined owing to the loss of inundation silt, when the rivers deteriorated as the result of the Ganga having marched eastward. The decline of rivers in western Bengal, and the decadence of agriculture in Burdwan and Hooghly were clearly discernable from the middle of the nineteenth century. Thirdly, with the construction of roads, railways and embankments in the course of the nineteenth century in western and central Bengal, water logging became a real problem. The rivers maintained a languid vitality during the monsoon season and for the greater part of the year were merely chains of stagnant pools. Sluggish waters, full of aquatic weeds, became the breeding places of anopheles leading to the widespread outbreak of malaria in these districts.

The Man and Nature in interactions: Contending Causations Mukherjee’s views, however dramatically they were put forward in 1937, should not be taken in isolation: they came in the wake of an intellectual debate participated by C.A. Bentley, William Willcocks and C. Adams Williams in the 1920s and 1930s. Bentley, Director of Public Health in Bengal, was a malaria specialist who wrote a book entitled Malaria and Agriculture in Bengal: How to Reduce Malaria in Bengal by Irrigation in 1925.13 For him, malaria was the product of seven decades of mismanagement of the delta: the yearly flood which enriched the land with silt and kept down mosquito populations was severely hampered by the initiative taken by the British to build embankments. It had three effects: soaring of mosquito population, decline of agricultural fertility and deterioration of public health.14 ‘Out of a provincial population of around 45 million people in 1911,



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Bentley estimated that 30 million in Bengal were afflicted by malaria, more than 10 million severely so.’15 But it had differential effects for regions in Bengal: the proportions were far worse in Western Bengal with 8 million malaria cases out of a population of 8.46 million, and in Central Bengal, with 8.5 million malaria cases out of a population of 9.44 million. The situation was somewhat better in Eastern Bengal with 5 million malaria cases out of a population of over 17 million. Sir William Willcocks was, by contrast, a product of the Raj’s Irrigation department, and his views naturally raised more immediate controversy. Born in India in 1852 and a graduate of the Roorkee Engineering College, Willcocks became one of the most important figures of British irrigation engineering after his successful designing of the first Aswan Dam in Egypt. He also had periods of service as advisor to British rulers in the Sudan and South Africa and the governments of the Ottoman Empire and the United States. Willcocks delivered his Readership Lectures to Calcutta University, later published as Lectures on the Ancient System of Irrigation in Bengal.16 Here he insisted that colonial engineering brought to ruin what had once been ‘perhaps the most prosperous region of the world’. For him, overflow irrigation was system by which the nutrient-rich, silt-laden floodwaters from upper regions of the various rivers flowing into Bengal were distributed evenly over the delta, watering and more importantly fertilizing fields, spreading fish over the countryside and sweeping away the mosquitoes that spread malaria. Thus floodwater was directed through a system of wide, shallow canals with minimal embankments and without much silt or sand, thus keeping the system in good working order. But in the nineteenth century, Willcocks stated, ‘The Irrigation Department has tried its hand at every kind of project it could imagine except “overflow irrigation”. The resulting poverty of soil, congestion of the rivers, and malaria have stalked canals and banks, and the country is strewn today with wrecks of useless and harmful works.’17 Willcocks further argued that the Raj’s engineers might have worked wonders in the Punjab and the United Provinces but they had blundered badly in Bengal in two ways. First, they have mistakenly considered silted up canals to be ‘dead rivers’ about which little could be done. It was definitely ‘the most startling of Willcocks’ claims’18 that the channels in Western and Central Bengal were not natural

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but human-made. He gave a different explanation of the Hindu ‘vision of Bhagirath leading Ganga in canals across the plains’, by claiming Bhagirath was an actual historical person.19 He insisted that the Bengali word for these channels was ‘kana’, that they were still so-called in Western Bengal, that the word was derived from ‘kan’, an old Persian word, meaning ‘to dig’, i.e. they were the product of river engineering of some sorts. Willcocks continued: And because there is another word ‘kana’ meaning ‘blind’, pessimists have jumped to the conclusion that these ‘kanas’ are ‘blind rivers’. They have acted in the same way in Central Bengal; the pessimists have called all the old canals in Central Bengal ‘dead rivers’.  .  .  . They have vision; they have future. They are neither blind nor dead, but they have a potency of life in them.  .  .  .20

Secondly, the British engineers have constructed a railway embankment along the left bank of the Damodar in the 1850s, effectively cutting off the area north of the river from the flow of silt and floodwater so necessary to the health and prosperity of the region. These embankments had twin effects: transforming the erstwhile shallow and benign floods into much more devastating ones like the Damodar flood of 1913, while in most years preventing the renewal of mosquito larvae. It is true that the British had constructed some irrigation canals such as the Eden Canal in Burdwan, but they were constructed with high banks that impeded the easy overflow of water. He mainly proposed the construction of a modern work as a barrage across the Ganges to divert water from Eastern Bengal to decadent central and western districts of Bengal, a project which was realized 50 years later in different form by the Farrakha Barrage. The most important critic of Willcocks was C. Adams-Williams, the Chief Engineer of the Bengal Irrigation Department. In his two submissions to the Irrigation Department in 1930 and 1931, Adams-Williams refuted Willcocks on particulars of flood records and measures of channel volumes. He claimed that Willcocks’s observations were based on his superficial dry weather tours of Bengal in 1928 and 1930 and that Willcocks was ignorant of the existing departmental policies. Adams-Williams also stated that the Department had long since recognized the use of silt-laden floodwater in fertilizing the soil and combating malaria. He, however,



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admitted ‘that mistakes have been made in the past in regard to the policy adopted about the middle of the last century in raising large embankments in continuous lines along the rivers has been acknowledged long ago.  .  .  .’21 He was, in particular, opposed to Willcocks’ proposed barrage on the Ganges to re-vitalize the overflow irrigation in Central and Western Bengal, as ‘it was a risky and expensive proposition’.22 ‘Interestingly, he had himself delivered a set of lectures a decade earlier, to the Bengal Engineering College, in which he discussed both the usefulness but also the complexity of such interventions, illustrating his points with some of the failures of earlier generations of British engineers.’23 However, in his own report on flooding in Orissa in 1928, Adams Williams attributed flood to the past several decades of mismanagement, including embankments.24 It shows that while Adams Williams criticized Willcocks, he could not altogether dismiss the former’s premise that colonial engineering had damaging implications for Bengal. It is interesting to note that partly in response to Willcocks’s indictment, the Government of Bengal formed a Committee to evaluate the Bengal Irrigation Department in 1929. The Committee demolished most of the conclusions of Willcocks as ‘incorrect’ and ‘baseless’. It argued, We feel, moreover, that it is due to the (irrigation) department that we should say that we have found nothing in the facts adduced by Sir William Willcocks in his lectures which we should be prepared to accept as even reasonably convincing evidence in support of his theory of the origin of Nadia rivers and of the existence in the past in Bengal of artificial systems of irrigation, such as he describes.25

The Committee, however, admitted that the embankments of the nineteenth century were ‘a serious and difficult problem in the whole realm of civil engineering’26 that had wrought devastation in Bengal. It was in the context of the intellectual antecedents of an ongoing debate that Mukherjee’s main contention as we have identified is to be re-viewed. He certainly agreed that central and western parts of Bengal, and not Eastern Bengal, were in crisis. For here, ‘the rivers are choked with weeds; the khals, pools and depressions no longer serve as natural drainage of reservoirs and channels but are converted into

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breeding grounds of anopheles, the subsoil water level is rising and the moist jungle spreading on all sides: these have persisted with an agricultural decadence unprecedented in the world’.27 B.B. Chaudhuri has found in this explanation the working of a river system and its failure, attendant with other human activities. He writes, The major form of the ecological degradation was the decay of the once active river system having four component parts: off-take from the main river; the central channel; numerous branches leading off the main channel acting as distributaries one season and feeders at another and the lateral spill basin on either side of the central channel of the effluent.28

The active river system, according to this analogy, was a result of integration of four parts, and this system was impaired when it fails to function normally. The major forms of human interference that hastened the decay and made it more widespread in the nineteenth century were embankments, railways and roads. The recurrence of the malaria epidemic, Chaudhuri argues, ‘had much to do with the decaying river system’, as confirmed by the findings of an official investigation (1863).29 There were alternative theories of the recurrence of the malaria epidemic in western Bengal. Some contemporaries raised the question of the bearing of a deficient food supply on the spread of malaria and on the degree of mortality caused by it. A few Bengal officers even went to the extent of linking the hunger theory of fever ‘common in Germany and Great Britain, and which was so largely accepted in Ireland in the post-famine literature of 1848’.30 Arabinda Samanta considers the malaria epidemic as a consequence of ‘colonial structure’ caused by the nineteenth century British commercial and political penetration into Bengal.31 Ira Klein provides refreshingly new insights into the origins of the epidemic fever.32 Klein questions Bentley’s tightly integrated and malaria driven formulations—a ‘largely economic interpretation’—of development projects with lowering agricultural yields, impoverishment of cultivators and their inability ‘to fend off malarial despoliation’. For him, ‘ecological, epidemiological and immunological conditions were equally or more important as contributory causes’.33 However, Mukherjee followed Bentley and Willcocks in lamenting the dislocation visited on an area the prosperity of which



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had greatly impressed the medieval and early modern travellers of Bengal. Indeed, his lectures advanced two explanations of it: human mismanagement and the ecological change. In other words, Mukherjee saw the Bengal delta as much more the product of ecological forces than did Willcocks, especially the deposition of sediments from the rivers combined with action of strong tides of Bay of Bengal. This contrast is again comparable to the differences between Willcocks and Casey, Governor of Bengal on hydraulic engineering.34 In particular, Mukherjee maintained that the main channels of the Ganges was gradually migrating east ward, shifting its course as its old channel built up the surrounding countryside and became clogged with silt, and then inevitably finding new, faster path to the sea.35 The corollary to this movement was that the character of the delta differed, depending on whether an area was in the new, ‘active’ areas where the main river was continuing to build new land and fertilize old stretches through the deposit of silt, or in the old, ‘decadent’ areas where this deposition has largely or completely ceased due to the migration of the main channel. ‘Active’ areas were more fertile and less malarial because of the salutary effects of monsoon inundations; the ‘decadent’ areas were becoming less habitable because they naturally received less floodwater and silt. S.C. Majumdar36 explained that decline of Western and Central Bengal ‘to a combination of natural forces and human interventions in the delta and upstream of it, more clearly synthesizing these two explanations than did Mukherjee’.37 Majumdar thus takes a long geographical view of the change and viable interventions in the delta. He did not approve of unsustainable ‘improvements’ but on the whole clearly accepted that some improvements were both necessary and possible.38 However, for Radhakamal Mukherjee, the process was predominantly an ecological one with implications for more recent history and for the future as well. Mukherjee followed Willcocks in lamenting the decline of Burdwan and the hinterland of Calcutta. He predicted acute problems for Calcutta proper in future as drainage difficulties and malaria became increasingly hard to combat. He specifically pointed out the implications of the jungles ‘on the increase’ in Burdwan and many other places of western Bengal. The ‘thick jungle delays the drying up of soil and evaporation of the surface collections of water in pits, hollows and hoof-marks of the village

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cattle, and also protects the mosquitoes against sun and wind.’39 This ecological disaster connected with the spread of dense shade of jungle was reflected in the economic conditions of the region. Mukherjee writes, ‘Here and there in Burdwan, Hoogly, Nadia, Jessore or Pabna, the dilapidated remains of big, pacca houses, built in the middle of last century, testify the former prosperity.’40 In the final analysis, Mukherjee’s contribution is important for the very nature of his inquiry. He believed that the hydraulic dynamics of the delta (old and new) were the product of the inextricable mixture of ecological and human factors in the colonial era. It is true that one line of Mukherjee’s thinking suggests specific mistakes and a possible path to recovery. It would seem to contradict the other parts of his analysis, which look at Bengal’s evolving history as the product of environmental determinants that are implicitly out of human control. Indeed, Mukherjee does not explicitly address the tension between these two threads of arguments or seek to assign relative degree of responsibility for the decline of parts of Bengal. It is certainly true that the two perspectives offered—the naturally shifting courses of rivers on the one hand and the short-sightedness of the colonial water and land management policies on the other—are not necessarily mutually contradictory. Indeed, it is quite possible to argue the land building processes which had originally nourished Bengal’s agriculture had long been partly anthropogenic, and the specific problem of ‘decadence’ had come with the increase (rather than the introduction) of human induced sedimentation. But the increase (its quantum) sometimes makes the qualitative difference in history.

The Long View of the Changing Face of Bengal: A Postscript Mukherjee’s interpretation can also be reviewed in the context of what happened in the control and distribution of river water in the central and western Bengal in the last sixty years of the twentieth century. The singular line of argument on the ‘soundness’ of overflow irrigation was re-viewed in the wake of emergence of multi-purpose dam in a couple of decades after Independence. This was a remarkable change in policy. ‘The objectives of this system approach are to ensure: (1) the conservation of water resources (2) their wise, efficient and



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balanced use and (3) the control of the behaviour of water such as flood control, impoundment, erosion and sediment control, etc., for reducing the social distress and for achieving socio-economic development.’41 In Bengal, its ultimate result was the creation of Damodar Valley Corporation (DVC), inspired by the Tennessee Valley Authority (TVA) in the United States. As recently argued by Daniel Klingensmith in a monograph, the transnational appeal of such projects reflected the various ideological contexts into which they could be assimilated, and the ways in which they could make visible commitments to modernism, liberalism and nationalism.42 Here it is necessary only to note that they captured the imagination of the key portion of the polity in the last year of the Raj and the decades after Independence (Temples of the New Age), the net result of which was the waning of the debate on ‘overflow irrigation’ and its benefits. But the old question of rejuvenating western Bengal and for that matter Burdwan and Hoogly from decline remained. A quick look at the origin, progress and ultimately failure of DVC would be perfectly in order here. The scientific rhetoric in which the idea of development was made immediately before and after independence was fed by the vision and ideals of Jawaharlal Nehru, Meghnad Saha and many others. Saha, in particular, was in favour of gigantic intervention of the state and for Nehru too the motto was the big was beautiful. Saha was emphatic on this, as he stated even in the middle of the 1950s, ‘At one time, floods and famine were considered as acts of God, meant to punish the people from their sins. That stage is over now. It has been found that floods and famines can be effectively tackled by taking proper scientific measure.’43 Connections between dams and development were not new in India. Indeed, the idea of a gigantic development surrounding Damodar Valley was there ever since the late 1940s. The origin and progress of the idea can be approached via the career of economist Sudhir Sen (1906–89), the first chief executive of the DVC. A celebrated PhD from Bonn under the supervision of the great economist Joseph Schumpeter, Sen admired the dynamic and innovative power of large-scale enterprises. In India his training started with Leonard Elmharst in 1939 in Sriniketan at Tagore’s Institute of Rural Reconstruction. For improving rural incomes in

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India, Sen was interested in combining local methods, European technology and science and where appropriate, techniques and information from other non-European societies, especially China and Japan. Unlike Gandhi, Sen also believed that Indian villages could be salvaged only when they were grouped together and were semi-urbanized. In the 1940s, Elmhirst and Sen conducted extensive research into the agricultural problems of Bengal, short term and long term, making the development of the Damodar their highest priority. In July 1946, Sen was appointed Secretary, Damodar Valley project. Broadly speaking, he was to initiate the investigations for a farreaching integrated scheme to effect flood control, power generation, irrigation, eradication of malaria, afforestation and conservation, social betterment and industrialization. Echoing Meghnad Saha, Sen began by declaring that Bengal’s rivers were being wasted and they were allowed to erode the landscape and wash away its fertility. Like Saha also, he believed that TVA was technocratic and above politics and that a revolution was achieved by it. Sen, however, was quite aware what development could and could not do. For him at least, there was no uncritical hope that if dams and irrigation channels could just be built, the rest would take care of itself. In 1948, in Independent India, Sen became the Secretary of the DVC, which was an extension of the Damodar Valley project, while S.N. Mazumdar, ICS, was made its chairman. Sen has later written, ‘On my arrival in Delhi I confirmed my acceptance, knowing only too well that DVC was going to be no bed of roses for me. Little did I know that it would turn out to be a bed of poison ivy as well.’44 Sen has ultimately regarded the DVC in his autobiography as a ‘mutilated success’.45 Closely analysed, the DVC failed in many of its central tasks: it did not fulfil the ideal of TVA, it did not create any viable political constituency for itself and it did not adequately resettle most of the more than 93,000 people it officially displaced. The unofficial estimate of displaced people was 1.5 lakh. It is important to note that the publicity pamphlets of the Corporation were in English, Hindi and Bengali and not in any tribal language, though the displaced people were mostly Santhals, Mundas, Oraons or Adivasis.



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Sudhir Sen decided to leave the DVC in the wake of the enquiry of Rau Committee in 1954. Though the Committee’s report vindicated Sen’s stance on a number of issues, it concluded that the government and the nation were in a hurry in the DVC activity. As it finished its first phase in the late 1950s, the DVC was on the wane. Distribution of irrigation water in western Bengal was a vital part of the DVC’s work, but in 1964 the organization had to finally give up its irrigation programme, ceding it to West Bengal. Moreover, the DVC’s attempt to impose a holistic, environment-friendly, resource-conserving regime on the valley largely failed. By 1966, the Damodar was perhaps India’s most polluted river. In the 1980s, the Centre for Science and Environment in New Delhi reported that it was headed towards an ‘ecological disaster’. Much of this pollution came from heavy industry which the DVC power and water had made possible. In this sense, western Bengal did not fully recover from the ecologic decline as suggested by Radhakamal Mukherjee, while new features were added on. In the 1970s, the Central Water and Power Commission (CWPC) carried out the preliminary studies for the Farakka Barrage in West Bengal, a project completed in 1975. By diverting part of the flow of the Ganges into the Bhagirathi and Hoogly to serve Kolkata, rather than letting her to flow on to Bangladesh, the Barrage was another instance of confirming hydrology to national boundaries. In the end, the irony of the story is that there was a growing feeling in Bangladesh in the wake of the Farakka Barrage that siltation and salinity had increased in the country as ‘sufficient waters are not available’ in what was known as Eastern Bengal in colonial period.46 Probably, a new decline has started in Eastern Bengal, that is to say in presentday Bangladesh. It is the other, more recent story of the ecological imbalance in the Indian sub-continent.

Demography, Man and Nature in Bengal: Concluding Observations It thus appears that demography, man and nature are highly interrelated subjects in Bengal, the subtle interactions of which are intelligible in the long historical perspective. They raised issues which were important in the past, going back in the eighteenth century, and

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remained instrumental in the whole of the nineteenth and twentieth century. In a way, Mukherjee’s book touches on these issues over three centuries and provides scope for thought in the present. Mukherjee’s book may further contribute to the environmental critique as it developed on water and irrigation of the twentieth century. It is important to note that Mukherjee used ecologic, social and economic factors to substantiate his arguments all along. He was one of the first analysts to mix up and combine a number of parameters of analysis to comprehend the demographic and agrarian change through the looking glass of crucial ecological changes. He is important not merely because of the fact that he was one of the early and most forceful ecologists of his time as claimed by Ramachandra Guha,47 but that he raised some of the most intricate questions on the use of water and irrigation for ecological, demographic, economic, social and cultural points of view. The fact that he took a middle position in giving importance to long-term environmental and human factors in analysing change is equally significant. It was definitely coloured by the rudimentary views of political ecology, paving the way for what has been later called as cultural politics of natural resources in the process.

Notes   1. Sugata Bose, Peasant Labour and Colonial Capital: Rural Bengal since 1770, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003, p. 8.   2. Fernand Braudel, The Mediterranean and the Mediterranean World in the Age of Philip II, tr. Siân Reynolds, vol. 1, London: Harper & Row, 1972, Chapter I; and Emmanuel Le Roy Laudurie, The Peasants of Languedoc, tr. John Day, Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1974, p. 7.   3. Birendranath Ganguli, Trends of Agriculture and Population in the Ganges Valley: A Study in Agricultural Economics, London: Methuen & Co., 1938, p. 205.   4. Despite many problems of computation from the pre-Census data for South India, the existing studies suggest a general increase in the first half of the nineteenth century. For example, see Dharma Kumar, Land and Caste in South India: Agricultural Labour in the Madras Presidency during the Nineteenth Century, New Delhi: Manohar, 1992; and Arun Bandopadhyay, The Agrarian Economy in Tamil Nadu, 1820–1855, Calcutta: K.P. Bagchi, 1992.



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  5. W.W. Hunter, Annals of Rural Bengal, 1883; repr., Calcutta: Cosmo Publications, 1975, p. 45.   6. Aditee Nag Chaudhuri-Zilly, The Vagrant Peasant: Agrarian Distress and Desertion in Bengal, 1770 to 1830, Wiesbaden: F. Steiner, 1982.  7. Bose, Peasant Labour and Colonial Capital, p. 14.   8. B.B. Chaudhuri, ‘Agricultural growth in Bengal and Bihar, 1770–1860’, Bengal Past and Present, vol. 95, no. 1, 1976, pp. 290–340.   9. B.B. Chaudhuri, ed., Peasant History of Late Pre-Colonial and Colonial India, vol. VIII, pt. 2 of History of Science, Philosophy and Culture of Indian Civilization, New Delhi: Pearson Longman, 2008, pp. 307–33. 10. Rajat K. Ray, ‘The Crisis of Bengal Agriculture, 1870–1927: The Dynamics of Immobility’, The Indian Economic and Social History Review, vol. 10, no. 3, September 1973, p. 245. 11. Ibid., pp. 245–6. 12. See, for example, Nahid Kamal, ‘The Population Trajectories of Bangladesh and West Bengal during the Twentieth Century: A Comparative Study’, unpublished PhD thesis, Department of Population Studies, London School of Economics, 2009, Chapters 3 and 7. 13. C.A. Bentley, Malaria and Agriculture in Bengal: How to Reduce Malaria in Bengal by Irrigation, Calcutta: Bengal Secretariat Book Depot, 1925. 14. Ibid. 15. Daniel Klingensmith, ‘“Decadence” and Ecological Change: Environmental Crisis and Political Ideology in late Colonial Bengal’, The Calcutta Historical Journal, vol. XXVII, no. 1, 2007, p. 34. 16. William Willcocks, Lectures on the Ancient System of Irrigation in Bengal, Calcutta: University of Calcutta, 1930. 17. Ibid., p. 26. 18. Klingensmith, ‘“Decadence” and Ecological Change’, p. 33. 19. William Willcocks, ‘Bhagirath: The Grand Old Engineer of Bengal’, VisvaBharati Quarterly, vol. VI, no. 2, July 1928, p. 206. 20. Willcocks, Lectures on the Ancient System of Irrigation, pp. 8–9. 21. See Government of Bengal, Irrigation Department, 1931. A Note by Mr C. Adams-Williams on Lectures of Sir William Willcocks together with a reply of Sir William (Bengal Secretariat Book Depot, Calcutta, 1931), p. 1; cited in Klingensmith, ‘“Decadence” and Ecological Change’, pp. 35–6. 22. Klingensmith, ‘“Decadence” and Ecological Change’, p. 36. 23. Ibid. 24. Rohan D’Souza, Drowned and Damned: Colonial Capitalism and Flood Control in Eastern India, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2006. 25. Government of Bengal, Irrigation Department, 1930: Report of the Irrigation Department Committee (Bengal Secretariat Book Depot, Calcutta, 1930) p. 7; quoted in Klingensmith, ‘“Decadence” and Ecological Change’, p. 36.

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26. Ibid., p. 10. 27. Radhakamal Mukherjee, The Changing Face of Bengal: A Study in Riverine Economy, 1938; reprinted with a new Introduction by Arun Bandopadhyay, Calcutta: University of Calcutta, 2009. 28. See Chaudhuri, ed., Peasant History of Late Pre-Colonial and Colonial India, p. 309. 29. Ibid., p. 310. 30. Ibid.. ‘The Burdwan Magistrate found in 1875 that “class visited most severely by the fever has been the lowest class—that of the daily laborers, which class is also the notoriously the poorest, the worst fed, clothed and housed”’. 31. Arabinda Samanta, Malarial Fever in Colonial Bengal, 1820–1939: Social History of an Epidemic, Kolkata: Firma KLM, 2002. 32. Ira Klein, ‘Development and Death: Reinterpreting Malaria, Economic and Ecology of British India’, The Indian Economic and Social History Review, vol. XXXVIII, no. 2, April–June 2001, pp. 147–79. 33. Ibid. 34. Rohan D’Souza, ‘Seeing like a River: The Bengal Presidency’s Hydraulic Transitions’, in Science and Society in India, c.1750–2000, ed. Arun Bandopadhyay, New Delhi: Manohar, 2010. The rivers, according to Governor Casey, ‘appeared in two opposed moods; they either burst banks and injured cultivation or so weakened their flows that crops withered from lack of water.  .  .  . For Casey, therefore, the delta’s rivers had to be conceived only through the language of control. Rivers needed to “equalized”, “balanced” or “tamed” and their flow harnessed through the science of engineering.’ By contrast, ‘Willcocks wanted the restoration of inundation irrigation so that as technique and a set of practices it would weave the rivers and its surrounding alluvial plains into a mutually beneficial embrace.’ 35. Geographers and historians have different views on the change. See, for example, R.H. Colebrook, ‘On the Course of the Ganges through Bengal’, Asiatic Researches, vol. 7, 1801, pp. 1–31; W.S. Sherwill. Report on the Rivers of Bengal, Calcutta: Calcutta Printing and Publishing Co., 1858; W.W. Hunter, Statistical Accounts of Bengal, vol. 9, London: Trübner & Co., 1876; S.C. Majumdar, Rivers of the Bengal Delta, Calcutta: University of Calcutta, 1942; Kanangopal Bagchi, The Ganges Delta, Calcutta: University of Calcutta, 1944; Shirischandra Nandy, Bengal Rivers and our Economic Welfare, Calcutta: The Book Co. Ltd., 1948; Aniruddha Ray, ‘Locational Problems of the Sixteenth Century Bengal Coast’, Pranta Samiksha: Journal of the Directorate of Archaeology and Museums, Government of West Bengal, vol. 6–8, 1997–9, pp. 121–34; Kapil Bhattacharya, Bangladesher Nad-Nadi O Parikalpana, Calcutta: Vidyodaya Library, 1995; and Kalyan Rudra, Banglar Nadikatha, Kolkata: Sahitya Sansad, 2008.



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36. Majumdar, Rivers of the Bengal Delta. 37. Klingensmith, ‘“Decadence” and Ecological Change’, p. 40. 38. Majumdar, Rivers of the Bengal Delta, pp. 77–82. 39. Radhakamal Mukherjee, Changing Face of Bengal. 40. Ibid. 41. Eshanul Haque, ‘Towards a Rational Water Resources Management: The Case of Bangladesh and India’, in India Bangladesh Cooperation Broadening Measures, ed. B.K. Jahangir and Jayanta Kumar Ray, Calcutta: K.P. Bagchi & Co., 1997, p. 109. 42. Daniel Klingensmith, ‘One Valley and a Thousand’: Dams, Nationalism and Development, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2007. 43. See Meghnad Saha Private Papers, Serial No. 26, 22 September 1955, Nehru Memorial Museum and Library. 44. Quoted in Klingensmith, ‘One Valley and a Thousand’, p. 180. 45. Ibid., 181. 46. Ibid., pp. 112–13. 47. Ramachandra Guha, Savaging the Civilized: Verrier Elwin, his tribals and India, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1999. See also Ramachandra Guha, How Much Should a Person Consume?: Thinking Through the Environment, New Delhi: Permanent Black, 2006. For an analysis of Radhakamal Mukherjee as an early ecologist, see Arun Bandopadhyay, ‘Radhakamal Mukherjee as an Early Environmentalist Thinker: An Evaluation’, in Discourses on Indian History: A Festschrift in Honour of Professor N. Rajendran, ed. N. Sethuraman, Tiruchirapalli: Clio Publications, 2016, pp. 265–78.

Bibliography Books Bagchi, Kanangopal, The Ganges Delta, Calcutta: University of Calcutta, 1944. Bandopadhyay, Arun, The Agrarian Economy in Tamil Nadu, 1820–1855, Calcutta: K.P. Bagchi, 1992. Bandopadhyay, Arun, ed., Science and Society in India 1750–2000, Delhi: Manohar, 2010. Bentley, C.A., Malaria and Agriculture in Bengal: How to reduce Malaria in Bengal by Irrigation, Calcutta: Bengal Secretariat Book Depot, 1925. Bhattacharya, Kapil, Bangladesher Nad-Nadi O Parikalpana, Calcutta: Vidyodaya Library, 1955. Bose, Sugata, Peasant Labour and Colonial Capital: Rural Bengal since 1770, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003. Braudel, Fernand, Mediterranean and the Mediterranean World in the Age of Philip II, tr. Siân Reynolds, vol. 1, London: Harper & Row, 1972.

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Chaudhuri, B.B., Peasant History of Late Pre-Colonial and Colonial India, vol. VIII, pt. 2 of History of Science, Philosophy and Culture of Indian Civilization, New Delhi: Pearson Longman, 2008. D’Souza, Rohan, Drowned and Damned: Colonial Capitalism and Flood Control in Eastern India, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2006. Ganguli, Birendranath, Trends of Population and Agriculture in the Ganges Valley: A Study in Agricultural Economics, London: Methuen & Co., 1938. Guha, Ramachandra, How much Should a Person Consume?: Thinking Through the Environment, New Delhi: Permanent Black, 2006. Guha, Ramachandra, Savaging the Civilized: Verrier Elwin, his tribals and India, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1999. Hunter, W.W., Annals of Rural Bengal, 1883; repr., Calcutta: Cosmos Publications, 1975. Hunter, W.W., Statistical Accounts of Bengal, vol. 9, London: Trübner & Co., 1876. Jahangir, B.K. and Jayanta Kumar Ray, eds., India Bangladesh Cooperation Broadening Measures, Calcutta: K.P. Bagchi & Co., 1997. Klingensmith, Daniel, ‘One Valley and a Thousand’: Dams, Nationalism and Development, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2007. Kumar, Dharma, Land and Caste in South India: Agricultural Labour in the Madras Presidency during the Nineteenth Century, New Delhi: Manohar, 1992. Le Roy Laudurie, Emmanuel, The Peasants of Languedoc, tr. John Day, Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1974. Majumdar, S.C., Rivers of the Bengal Delta, Calcutta: University of Calcutta, 1942. Mukherjee, Radhakamal, The Changing Face of Bengal: A Study in Riverine Economy, 1938; reprinted with a new Introduction by Arun Bandopadhyay, Calcutta: University of Calcutta, 2009. Nag Chaudhuri-Zilly, Aditee, The Vagrant Peasant: Agrarian Distress and Desertion in Bengal, 1770 to 1830, Wiesbaden: F. Steiner, 1982. Nandy, Shirischandra, Bengal Rivers and our Economic Welfare, Calcutta: The Book Co. Ltd., 1948. Rudra, Kalyan, Banglar Nadikatha, Kolkata: Sahitya Sansad, 2008. Samanta, Arabinda, Malarial Fever in Colonial Bengal, 1820–1939: Social History of an Epidemic, Kolkata: Firma KLM, 2002. Sethuraman, N., ed., Discourses on Indian History: A Festschrift in Honour of Professor N. Rajendran, Tiruchirapalli: Clio Publications, 2016. Sherwill, W.S., Report on the Rivers of Bengal, Calcutta: Calcutta Printing and Publishing Co., 1858. Willcocks, William, Lectures on the Ancient System of Irrigation in Bengal, Calcutta: University of Calcutta, 1930.



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Articles Bandopadhyay, Arun, ‘Radhakamal Mukherjee as an Early Environmentalist Thinker: An Evaluation’, in Discourses on Indian History: A Festschrift in Honour of Professor N. Rajendran, ed. N. Sethuraman, Tiruchirapalli: Clio Publications, 2016, pp. 265–78. Chaudhuri, B.B., ‘Agricultural growth in Bengal and Bihar, 1770–1860’, Bengal Past and Present, vol. 95, no. 1, 1976, pp. 290–340. Colebrook, R.H., ‘On the Course of the Ganges through Bengal’, Asiatic Researches, vol. 7, 1801, pp. 1–31. D’Souza, Rohan, ‘Seeing like a River: The Bengal Presidency’s Hydraulic Transitions’, in Science and Society in India, c.1750–2000, ed. Arun Bandopadhyay, New Delhi: Manohar, 2010, pp. 169–82. Haque, Eshanul, ‘Towards a Rational Water Resources Management: The Case of Bangladesh and India’, in India Bangladesh Cooperation Broadening Measures, ed. B.K. Jahangir and Jayanta Kumar Ray, Calcutta: K.P. Bagchi & Co., 1997, pp. 107–16. Klein, Ira, ‘Development and Death: Reinterpreting Malaria, Economic and Ecology of British India’, The Indian Economic and Social History Review, vol. XXXVIII, no. 2, April–June 2001, pp. 147–79. Klingensmith, Daniel, ‘“Decadence” and Ecological Change: Environmental Crisis and Political Ideology in late Colonial Bengal’, The Calcutta Historical Journal, vol. XXVII, no. 1, January–June 2007, pp. 31–51. Ray, Aniruddha, ‘Locational Problems of the Sixteenth Century Bengal Coast’, Pranta Samiksha: Journal of the Directorate of Archaeology and Museums, Government of West Bengal, vol. 6–8, pp. 121–34. Ray, Rajat K., ‘The Crisis of Bengal Agriculture, 1870–1927: The Dynamics of Immobility’, The Indian Economic and Social History Review, vol. 10, no. 3, September 1973, pp. 244–79. Willcocks, William, ‘Bhagirath: the Grand Old Engineer of Bengal’, Visva-Bharati Quarterly, July 1928.

Unpublished Thesis Kamal, Nahid, ‘The Population Trajectories of Bangladesh and West Bengal during the Twentieth Century: A Comparative Study’, unpublished PhD thesis, Department of Population Studies, London School of Economics, 2009.

8 A Tale of Rivers of Bengal An Environmental History Ranjan Chakrabarti

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Introduction

ernand braudel, the well-known French historian and the leader of the Annales school, made a laudable attempt to write a total history of the Mediterranean world giving adequate importance to the role of geography and climate behind history in a longue durée context.1 There is no such history of Bengal.2 Historians who researched history of Bengal mostly thought of history in ideological and political lines. They wrote hundreds of pages to understand the political forces that led to the Battles of Plassey and Buxar, but did not care to historicize the riverscape, waterscape, landscape, climate and the natural world in the midst of which all these political events were unfolding.3 Alfred Crosby, the author of The Columbian Exchange: Biological and Cultural Consequences of 1492, chronicles a parallel development that transformed global ecology forever, the trans-Atlantic movement of plants and animals in which Europe transported staple crops like wheat, oats and fruits along with pigs, horses and goats to the Americas, where they were unknown and sent back to Europe the New World products like maize, potatoes and beans.4 The continents on opposite sides of the Atlantic, which were so different, yet they began to become *All the sources relating to the ancient history of rivers of Bengal were meticulously collected on my behalf by Dr Dipsikha Acharya, Assistant Professor of History, North Bengal University. To her, I acknowledge my sincere gratitude.



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biologically and ecologically alike as a result of the discovery of America.5 Fernand Braudel and Alfred Crosby were able to raise new and fundamental questions because they conceived history, unlike many of us, in ecological, biological and cultural terms. The geographers and geologists have revealed how the Bengal Delta had been formed through the ages by the action of rivers. It was a historians’ turn to ascertain how much Bengal’s political economy, its production, crop pattern, inland and overseas trade, openness, demographic pattern, culture and economy were shaped by its river systems and hydrology. But it is surprising enough to note that historians remained by and large reluctant to be drawn into these important questions. As a result, there is a serious slippage and silence in Bengal’s history relating to the ecological and historical importance of rivers. The present essay proposes to break this silence. ‘To visit Bengal without travelling on the great rivers which intersect that province would be almost as bad as going to Agra without seeing the Taj Mahal, and one may see something of the rivers and appreciate their importance  .  .  .’, observed a Railway Guide published as early as in 1884.6 Railroad travels during those days were often clubbed together with steamer rides through the fascinating rivers of Bengal. In more ways than one, history of Bengal is essentially a history of rivers. Bengal has a distinct environmental and ecological identity because of its river systems and unique geophysical character. It is the world’s largest delta formed by multiple rivers flowing from the Himalayas. The Ganges and the Brahmaputra are the longest among these rivers.7 Bengal has the largest network of rivers in the world. It includes more than 750 rivers and 4–5 major or minor river systems. If tiny hilly streams, winding seasonal creeks, muddy canals and khals, tributaries and distributaries are taken into account, the Bengal waterways may have a total length of more than 25,000 km. Inland water transport in this region has been an important resource since times immemorial. According to one estimate, in eastern Bengal major and minor rivers and streams provide a network of more than 5,968 km. during the monsoon which shrinks to about 3,814 km. in the summer.8 In areas like Barisal and Sundarbans, the waterways appear to be ‘mystic’,9 and constitute a veritable maze.10 They are a natural environment in their lives, songs, poems and thousands of stories related to the

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daily lives of majhis and mallahs. They constitute the folklore, the spiritual and the literary life of the riverine areas of lower Bengal. While on the one hand, rivers provide speed, pace, prosperity, joy and happiness, but on the other hand, they bring sorrow as land, life and homes are often eaten up by the fury of raging rivers. Literary and artistic representations of such joy and sorrow in the songs and poems are many. As feudalism was a fact of culture in Medieval Europe,11 rivers are a fact of culture in Bengal, more so in eastern Bengal. W.W. Hunter described the entire area of Lower Bengal facing the sea (districts like Noakhali, Khulna and 24 Parganas) ‘as a sort of drowned land, broken up by swamps, intersected by a thousand river channels and maritime backwaters, but gradually dotted, as the traveler recedes from the seaboard, with clearings and patches of rice land.’12 The tract is one vast alluvial plain, where the process of land making has not yet ceased, he noted. Ganga-Padma river system is one of the major river systems in Bengal. The Bengal Delta occupies a unique position among the larger deltas of the world for its varied and complex river and drainage systems. The whole delta is criss-crossed by innumerable large and small channels of which some are decaying, some are active, while some others are being drained only by tidal flow. Another significant feature of the delta-rivers is their continual shifting of courses. Most of the major streams of the delta including its premier channel, the Ganges-Padma, have been continuously changing their courses or migrating laterally and occupying new sites. Even the major channels of the delta show the same tendency.13

Historical Background It is of no doubt that, the fluvio-marine alluvial plain of undivided Bengal had undergone several geo-environmental changes from times immemorial. The changing river courses, stream deposition, floodplain alluviation, channel decaying, marsh accretion, bank erosion, sediment compaction, etc., had played crucial roles in conceiving the Bengal delta in present form.14 It is well studied by the geomorphologists that how during the ‘stationary sea level phase’, the streams abandoned many channels for finding the shorter routes to meet the sea thereby making many sub-deltas. The latter is certainly



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an outcome of abandoned distributary system of meandering channels. What is striking is that, a number of sites bearing ancient cultural remains which have been interpreted by archaeologists and historians as the intermediaries of several interactive networks are located along such abandoned channels. It is quite evident that due to the reduced sediment supply to the distributary channel systems of Matla, Bidyadhari, Ichhamati, etc., from the main flows of the Ganga, a large deltaic tract eventually got abandoned. The latter largely occupied by the Sundarban tidal wetland swamps are also scattered with a number of sites indicating their navigability in the ancient past. The geomorphological study suggests that the triple flows of Hooghly-Sarasvati-Jamuna rivers and Hooghly-Adi GangaBidyadhari rivers were active and navigable even before the capture of Hooghly River by Padma.15 It has to be kept in mind that the Bidyadhari River was once well connected with the Matla River near Canning. The river which was navigable at least till 1833 was connected with the back swamps (which is presently known as East Kolkata Wetlands and Salt lakes) of the Hooghly River on its way to the delta. Adi Ganga on the other hand, was another southward diversion channel of the Hooghly from Kolkata. If one studies the antiquarian zeal of the eighteenth century, what strikes at the first instance is the discovery of a hoard of coins of Gupta rulers (Chandragupta II, Narasimha Gupta, Kumara Gupta II and Vishnu Gupta) from Kalighat on the bank of the Adi Ganga in 1783.16 Ancient cultural materials from the sites of Atghara, Boral, Fartabad, Biral-Dhamnagar, Dingelpota, Dakshin Govindapur, Hariharpur-Mahinagar, Sitakundu, Ramnagar, Dadpur, SalikaMaheshpur, Kashipur, Sarisadaha, Krishnachandrapur, Kasinagar, Jatardeul, Pakurtala, Mathurapur, etc., along the bank of the dried up river channel of Adi Ganga suggests the navigability of the river at least since the early historical period.17 The settlements of Tilpi and Dhosha located along the almost dried up river channel of Piyali (a cut-off channel of the Bidyadhari), have exposed the evidence of continuous habitation from third century bce to fifth–sixth century ce during excavations.18 The river channels of Dwarakeswar and Silai while converging near Ghatal create Rupnarayan River extending south–southeastwards before reaching Hooghly. The river was active and

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navigable as is evident from the location of an enormously significant site of Tamluk along its bank. The latter is generally identified with the legendary port-town of Tamralipta/Tamralipti, probably located at the point where the moribund channel of the river Saraswati, the oldest course of the Bhagirathi debouching in the Rupnarayan.19 It is quite interesting to note that the concerned river had undergone several course changes before conceiving its present form.20 In this context, one may again return to the comment of N.R. Ray21 on the port city of Gange/Ganges as known to Ptolemy and to the anonymous author of the Periplus of the Erythraen Sea, which has been identified by him with the site of Chandraketugarh. What is more interesting is that, the name of the people living near the mouths of the Ganges were known as Gange or Ganges, and the Ganges and Gangian people were collectively termed as Gangaridae as testified by the classical sources. The Greek geographer Ptolemy also mentioned Gange as the chief city of Gangaridae, whereas, in Periplus, the term Ganges not only applied to a river, but also to a country and its capital both located near the principal mouth of the river.22 Chandraketugarh, generally identified with the capital city of Gange, located about 10 km. away from the bank of Bidyadhari and amidst several paleo-channels is an extensive site scattered with a number of structural and habitational mounds (Berachampa, Deulia [Debalaya], Singer Ati, Shanpukur, Hadipur, Jhikra, Ranakhola, Ghorapota, Dhanpota, Mathbari, etc.) and is partially encircled by a huge wall of mud—rampart/embankment. The remarkable findings from the site during several courses of excavations, though beyond the scope of the present essay, have assigned a long chrono-cultural sequence to the site starting from the pre-Mauryan period.23 If one shifts his attention to the changing courses of the river Saraswati, the seminal importance generally given to Saptagram as an important trading and administrative centre (Satgaon) during the medieval–late medieval period cannot be ignored. Geomorphological study and historical records attest to the fact that the river channel has substantially shifted its course while flowing along the western part of Saptagram during the early historical period gradually turning towards the present course of Hooghly River. It was probably during the early medieval period onwards that the concerned channel while emerging from the Hooghly at Triveni flowed towards west



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and subsequently towards the south-east and then converged with the Hooghly at Betor thereby forming a loop between Triveni and Betor. Interestingly, cultural materials ascribable to a chronocultural range from the early historical to the colonial periods have been recorded from Saptagram.24 Triveni, probably christened after discharging of three river channels, i.e. Bhagirathi, Jamuna and Saraswati, has found its iconic status in Dhoyi’s Pavanadutam, medieval text of Manasamangalkavya by Bipradas Pillai as well as several European accounts. The sacred identity of the site gradually received noteworthy significance due to its involvement in maritime activities. It is of no doubt that, Betor—located near the confluence of Bhagirathi and Saraswati rivers that became an important auxiliary port of Saptagram during the fifteenth–sixteenth century—gradually faded away from the maps of the second half of the seventeenth century due to the continuous drying up of the course of Saraswati and shifting of that of Bhagirathi towards east.25

The Political Economy and Environmental History of Rivers Due to the shifting nature of the rivers and the associated climatic unpredictability, the villages of Bengal could never emerge as tightly organized communities. Not only did the lay of the land and the annual flooding of much of it forced cultivators to live in scattered rather than in clustered settlements, but also there appears rarely to have been any centralized authority at the village level. Each year massive amount of river water and rainwater along with silt and fish would course through the delta on their way to the Bay of Bengal, flooding parts of them and depositing fertile sediment. The danger of flooding forced people to live in unnucleated, dispersed and transient settlements. It is needless to say that rivers are of vital importance in a deltaic land of their own creation. The rivers of the Bengal Delta were responsible for a particular form of economy of people of Bengal who concentrated along the banks of the rivers.26 But deterioration of the river channels coupled with human interference brought in a number of problems including agricultural decline, beginning of malarial fever, periodic growth and decay of population away from river banks to sites along railways and roads.

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In Bengal, human survival depended largely on the cultivation of rice. This crop was produced by means of fairly simple technologies and large inputs of human and animal labour. The technological and climatic requirements of rice cultivation were provided by the unique ecology of the delta. Radhakamal Mukherjee and others attributed Bengal’s social ecology to ‘overflow irrigation’ which nourished Bengal’s agricultural prosperity. Bengal Subah was considered to be a prosperous province during the Mughal times and this prosperity was attributed to its ‘social ecology’ and its ancient system of overflow irrigation. Monsoon floods dispersed water, mud and fish, and helped to flush out mosquito larva and keep down malaria. The decline of overflow irrigation has been attributed to the coming of railroad embankments and the eastward shift of the Ganges. Bengal had long used its waterways and ready access to sea routes to export both agricultural and non-agricultural products.27 As a result of this unique natural environment of the delta, particularly in the southern and south-eastern parts of the terrain (of the present-day West Bengal), there were no fixed places/villages. Settlements continued to shift and realign all through the eighteenth, nineteenth and even in the twentieth century. The alteration or deterioration of the drainage courses forced humans to discard their old ways and old places of living and adopt new ones. This resulted in similar changes in the distributional patterns of population. This also explains the absence of place-lore in Bengal. Local legends, beliefs, descriptions of customs, oral histories, memories and other genres that are connected with a place contribute to the construction of the ‘place-lore’. Place-lore focuses on natural and cultural surroundings, such as hills, valleys, forests, wetlands, lakes, rivers, fields, stones, old trees, graveyards, chapels, churches, temples, mosques and other objects. The very existence of these places in the neighbourhoods support the traditional memory of the local people who share their narratives, beliefs and customs with the younger generations, newcomers and visitors. Place-lore is a shared folkloric tradition that needs a long time to emerge and develop.28 Generally, a rich and lively place-lore characterizes the narrative traditions of those regions where people have settled for centuries and have been living without any significant disruption. The causes of this lack of place-lore in most



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of the Bengal Delta have to be traced in the recurring disruptions brought about by the natural geophysical or climatic environment of the delta, the repeated changes of administrative units and their names all the way through Bengal’s history, the coming of railroad dislocating the traditional waterways, frequent desertion of human settlements caused by outbreaks of epidemics like cholera, smallpox, or malaria at different points of history and the last but not the least, the partition of South Asia in 1947. Economic changes took place in keeping with the alterations in the physical environment. The environmental history of the Bengal Delta is essentially a history of rivers where human settlements in the floodplains had always been shifting. This unique feature contributes to the absence of place-lore in many areas and makes the task of tracing the histogenesis of places extremely challenging. The political economy of much of the Bengal Delta was conditioned by its unique geophysical and climatic features. In many places, land formation had not ceased (as in the Sundarbans), it remained as a collection of low swampy shifting land masses or islands where existing lands are continuously eaten up by rivers and new land is being formed. Geographers and geologists would argue that the best example of a charland in South Asia is the Bengal Delta, created by the river-borne silt from the Himalayas. Chars are riverine landmasses rising above the water level. Rivers carrying large quantities of silt and flowing slothfully over the plains create these alluvial deposits. Riverine chars may be on the river beds, or may appear as attached spits near the banks. 29 The chars are extremely susceptible to frequent floods and bank corrosion due to changing river channels. The physical characteristics natural in the ecology of char formation make the charland one of the most fragile environments in the world. The vulnerability of the physical environment makes it a hazardous and disaster prone place. 30 Newly-formed charlands are more fragile than the older ones as their edges may be eroded at any time by the river currents. Even older charlands may be lost due to the unpredictability of a river, with fields and dwellings disappearing in a matter of days. In fact, many flourishing towns and cities in Bengal had disappeared in the past due to natural calamities like flood, cyclone or high tide. This is a common feature of the tide country where old land masses

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disappear and new landmasses are formed by the silt that is being continuously pushed by waves. This essay now examines the interesting and well-documented example of Goalanda.31 During the earliest phase of railroad in the nineteenth century, the passengers going to Dhaka from Kolkata had to disembark at Goalanda. The journey from there to Narayanganj had to be continued by steamer. Goalanda was located at the junction of the Padma and the Brahmaputra and daily services of steamers connected it to the railway systems at Narayanganj and Chandpur and to steamer services to Madaripur, Barishal, Sylhet and Kachhar. Thus, it occupied a strategic position in the waterways of Bengal. The location of Goalanda shifted on several occasions because of the shifting flow of water in the mighty rivers.32 Once upon a time, Goalanda was situated exactly at the junction of Padma and Brahmaputra. Large sums of money were spent in protecting the site from erosion. But in 1875, the spot was washed away and since that date the terminus had constantly been on the move. The guide book of Eastern Bengal State Railway published in 1913 recorded the following: ‘it [Goalanda] is now to be found about seven miles south of its former position.  .  .  . The crumbling nature of the alluvial soil renders the banks easily adaptable to these makeshift arrangements and an occasional fall of a few tons of earth into the river seems to inconvenience no one.’33 There were many such instances. Village Serpur in Nadia is currently under Kaliganj police station. A comparative study of Revenue Survey map of 1853, Survey of India’s topographical map no. 79A (surveyed in 1915–16), etc., show that the river Bhagirathi deserted its courses at this locality for several times. The Bhagirathi, at present flows about 3 km. west of this village, but excess discharge reaches this locality through the deserted course, locally known as Chhari Ganga. Since the commissioning of the Farakka Barrage, flood has been a regular phenomenon. The worstaffected flood years were 1978, 1981 and 1986. The village is protected from flood havoc by a long embankment, known as Jagatkhali Bund. It was reported that there was once a big village named Keshabpur on the great bund of the river Bhagirathi. Gradually that village was washed away and the inhabitants of Keshabpur re-settled in nine different villages located on both banks of the river lying in Nadia and Bardhaman districts. The people while choosing the



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names of their village retained the suffix ‘pur’, for instance, Serpur, Raghupur, Sujapur, Khidirpur, Narayanpur (1 and 2), Harinathpur, Baninathpur, Anantapur. The villagers of Serpur are living here for four generations and on this estimate, it may be said that the village is about 200 years old.34 To cite yet another example, Phulia is currently a small town under Santipore police station in Nadia. Formerly, the village was located right on the bank of the river Ganges. But now the river has drifted far away. It is the birth place of the well-known fifteenthcentury Bengali poet, Krittibas. Krittibas Ojha was the first and certainly the most popular poet to adapt Ramayana into Bengali. His work was originally known as Ramakathakavya or Sri Ram Panchali, which was subsequently named Krittibas Ramayana after him. Phulia, the place where the ancestral house of Krittibas was originally situated, was covered with deep forest in the eighteenth century. Kumudnath Mallik, the author of Nadia Kahini,35 visited Phulia in the nineteenth century to collect information about the poet. It appears from the Settlement Survey Report (1921) that the main settlement shifted to the south of the original settlement. Malarial fever led to the depopulation of Phulia and its adjoining mauzas. A large part of cultivable land and bhita land turned into jungles in the nineteenth century. With the entry of the displaced people after the partition of India in 1947, the place was again populated and jungles were cleared. The present small town of Phulia, 6 miles from Ranaghat and 4 miles from Santipore on the Santipore Ranaghat road was built at the instance of the Government of India to house people who were displaced by the partition.36 The perpetual variableness of the topography in Bengal not only poses a challenge to the historian engaged in reconstructing local history, but it also made the job somewhat thorny for the cartographers and revenue administrators throughout history. As the maps of James Rennell, drawn between 1764 and 1772 were updated, it became clear to the administration that huge amounts of new terrain had been formed on the beds of the rivers or on the banks of rivers. Like the forest and wasteland, the chars were kept deliberately out of the purview of the Permanent Settlement (1793). Estimating the extent of chars would anyway be tricky since the rivers of the delta kept forming lands on an unpredictable scale and pattern.

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To cite one example, between 1793 and 1827, eighty-two chars were formed in the district of Comilla alone.37 The Bengal Delta is not only flood prone, but it is also one of the most cyclone prone zones of the world. The monsoon in Bengal consists of a series of cyclonic depressions, which follow each other in more or less close succession up the Bay of Bengal. The October cyclones are examples of the most intense tropical storms. Such cyclonic storms further aggravated the environmental hazards and kept the human settlements transient in character.38 The social ecology of Bengal was loaded with remarkable uncertainty. Villages would disappear at regular intervals and new villages would appear elsewhere at quick successions. Apart from social ecology of Bengal,39 another major factor behind the shifting human settlements in colonial and post-colonial Bengal was the construction of railroad. Bengal had never been an inward looking agricultural society. As most of Lower Bengal is flat lowland criss-crossed by waterways and easily accessible from the outside, the villages and habitats had always been open to the outside world. This natural openness is a significant factor in its economic and political development. The openness of these villages was also reflected in the fact that newcomers could settle in them without formalities. This also partly explains the lack of any centralized authority at the village level. The openness to the outside world explains how rice from the Bengal Delta fed populations as far apart as the Maluccas in eastern Indonesia and Goa in western India and its silk and cotton fabrics were transportable to even farther. Much of the Bengal Delta was alternately inhabited and deserted through the ages. The causes of desertion of settlements were diverse. Such desertion could be attributed to drought, famine, flood, cyclone, epidemic diseases or political disorder. Bengal was hit by a devastating famine in 1770. Contemporary popular literature, ballads and folk songs are packed with the description of the famine. Bankim Chandra Chattopadhyay presents a graphic account of the famine in his novel Anandamath.40 The famine, which was one of the most terrible calamities known in human history, is known as Chhiyattarer Mannantar. Food shortage was so acute that people ate everything including grass and carcasses. To make matters worse, there was an outbreak of epidemic diseases like cholera and small pox. The



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mortality rate was very high and in many cases the entire village was wiped out by cholera or small pox. The village folk, hit by pestilence, deserted the villages en masse never to return. Consequently, the cultivable land turned into jungles and thickly populated areas turned into sparsely populated ones. Such depopulation of villages caused by famine had been a common feature of Bengal’s history and such events were directly or indirectly related to rivers or waterways. The classic example of such depopulation is Gaud. In the sixteenth century, natural disaster and epidemic swept away the ancient city of Gaud. This happened probably as a result of massive corrosion of the river bank and sudden shift in the course of the mighty river.41 The flood of 1584 dislocated thousands of villages. Again, at some point in the late seventeenth or eighteenth century many areas of the lower tract of the 24 Parganas facing the sea were abandoned and overrun with forest and jungle owing to some disorder, not clearly known to historians. The disorder may be political or environmental in nature. In Rennell’s Bengal Atlas, sheet XX (1761), the whole tract to the south of Bakharganj has been described as country depopulated by Muggs: ‘This part of the Country has been Deserted on Account of the Ravages of the Muggs’ (Map 8.1). Since 1970, the earth’s average temperature has risen by 0.8 °C. During this time span, the rise in temperature each decade was greater than in the preceding one. Global high temperature and melting glaciers may lead to rising seas and wash away human settlements across the world. But rising seas are not the only threat that comes with elevated global temperatures. Higher surface water temperatures in the tropical oceans mean more frequent and destructive storms. Cyclones, storms and erratic weather are making considerable headway all over the world in recent years. This makes the riverine areas of the densely populated east coast of India and Bangladesh environmentally more fragile.42 This region is now experiencing a swelling flow of environmental refugees43 driven from their homes by environmental pressures, and experts suggest that the largest potential displacements may take place in riverine areas of Bengal. It is interesting to note in this connection that the people of Bengal Delta are historically and perpetually exposed to tropical storms, cyclones, or massive flooding due to its unique natural setting. It may be argued that the people of Bengal have always

Source:  This historical cartographic image is part of the David Rumsey Historical Map Collection, see https://www. davidrumsey.com/luna/servlet/detail/RUMSEY~8~1~31571~1150050:Composite--Bengal,-Bahar-&c-?sort=Pub_List_No_ InitialSort%2CPub_Date%2CPub_List_No%2CSeries_No&qvq=q:james%20rennell;sort:Pub_List_No_InitialSort%2CPub_ Date%2CPub_List_No%2CSeries_No;lc:RUMSEY~8~1&mi=11&trs=15, accessed 2 May 2019.

1794, showing the south of Bakharganj wherein it is written ‘This part of the Country has been Deserted on Account of the Ravages of the Muggs’.

MAP   8.1:  A part of an actual survey, of the provinces of Bengal, Bahar & Co., by Major James Rennell, published in



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been essentially and habitually environmental refugees through the ages. Both agricultural and non-agricultural economic activities in Bengal had been conditioned by river flows. The Bengal Delta was dotted with local markets or weekly haats. Such haats were usually located on the intersections of the rivers. Most of these market places did not emerge as urban centres, but remained as ganjas or small rural semi-towns.44 A ganja or a market place is a pre-modern concept of an advantageously located place, where sellers, buyers and middlemen assembled periodically for transaction in grain, livestock and manufactures of both local and non-local origins. Its closest institutions are chauk, haat and bazaar that offer more or less the same rights and obligations to buyers and sellers as the ganja, though they are different in certain respects.45 The history of many ganjas, chauk, haat, or bazaar are on many occasions, intimately connected to the history of significant families. Two categories of ganja feature in Mughal records—khas or controlled by the state, and private. Private ganjas were mostly established and regulated by local landed families. The owners of the private ganjas were usually required to pay a percentage of their income to the state. Many of these market places of Bengal later grew into densely populated towns or cities. The Mughal revenue papers may provide some clue to the history of these places which initially originated as a small chauk or ganja.46 The dynamism of Bengal riverscape and landscape can be more substantially gauged while giving a cursory look on the traditions of ship building as evident from the literary and epigraphic sources.47 In this context, it is quite interesting to note that Raghuvamsa of Kalidasa gives definite information about the naval base of vanga.48 While delving into the inherent fluidity of Bengal’s regional and subregional identities particularly of the early medieval–medieval period, what strikes us the most, is the fluvial dynamism of its landscape. In this context, it is pertinent to give a few examples for understanding the imperativeness of navigability and the repeated mentions of boats/boat-related terms in inscriptions. The Gunaighar inscription of Vainyagupta (ascribable to the later Gupta period), while referring to the boundary specification of the talabhumi (low lands) belonging to a Buddhist vihara, mentioned about a jola (channel) between

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nauyoga (two ports of ship/a place for parking boats) at Cudamani and Nagarasri to the east, nau-khatah (a channel open to ships) connected to the large marshy pond of Ganesvara to the south, the end of the field belonging to the temple of Pradyumnesvara to the west, nauyoga-khatah (a channel leading to the port) of Pradamara to the north.49 The eleventh-century Deopara inscription of Vijayasena mentions about nau-vitane (fleet of boats) for the conquest of western dominions.50 Furthermore, it also describes how the king’s boat shone up on the water of the river like the crescent moon on Siva’s head, often stuck in the mud of ashes and often released thereby indicating the ever-fascinating fluvial landscape of Bengal. Vivid descriptions regarding the boat-making procedure of Bengal is found in the medieval literature of Manasamangal-kavya by Bangsidas. It has been mentioned that, the Lord of Champaka, the merchant Chand has made vessels for performing the ceremony of gold-nailing (sonarjal/jalai). From the keel to the central deck, the height of the deck was 6.5 cubits for stabilizing the equilibrium of the ship. The wood chosen for this purpose was known as manapaban, which was apt for imparting swiftness of the wind. String pieces of bamboo were joined together with the help of iron nails. After the construction of the hold, metallic sheets (pith-pat) were fitted and the mat doors (jhap) were fixed up. Then, the mathakashtha, or galui (prows) were made, and were subsequently decked with flowers of gold and silver.51 The story of Dhanapati’s voyage to Ceylon, as found in Kavikankan’s Candikavya (the Bangabasi edition), also abounds with descriptions of his fleet, consisting of seven types of vessels, viz., Madhukara (the flagship), Guarekhi (its prow resembled the head of a lion), Ranajaya (the victory), Ranabhima (the terrible in war), Mahakaya (the Titanic), Sarbhadhara (the all container), and Natasala (the amusement hall). Dara (helm) or patwal, malumkastha (mast), tala (hold), mathakastha (prow) are the principal parts of such vessels.52 Intangible forms of heritage of Bengal, i.e. poems, literature, and songs are in fact replete with the captivating stories of boats and boat-making traditions which are impregnated in the life and soul of Bengal. The ethnographic perspective of Hornell gives proper justice to the subject of various designs of boats existent in different parts of the Indian subcontinent until 1920s.53 The most common boat that



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floated in the Ganges was one-man dinghy on which the boatman squats at paddling on the low sharp stern for manoeuvring it along the zigzag path of the river. The bow rises sharply to end in a narrow pointed stern. A semi-circular roofed cabin is made in the middle of the boats. A tall bamboo mast is stepped above the cabin and a cotton sprit-sail is hoisted. The Sampandinghys, whereas, were small light boats, controlled by three or four men and were extensively used during hilsa season. The said discourse also speaks about the design and utility of paltolanouka (topsail) and malbahinouka (cargo), etc. A quite recent approach made by Sajid-Bin-Doza gives a pertinent illustrative catalogue of traditional boats sailing in the riverscape of Bangladesh at least before the 1980s.54 We hear and read so much about the political history of the political forces leading to the various political and economic events, but there seems to be so little information about the natural setting, landscape, waterscape or the climate in the midst of which all these had been taking place. There is some historical silence about the natural setting where the largest colonial empire—the British Colonial Empire—eventually unfolded. The geographers and geologists have shown that the Bengal Delta was formed by the action of three great rivers, the Ganges, the Brahmaputra and the Meghna. Now it is the historians’ turn to ascertain the force of nature behind Bengal’s political economy, its production, inland and overseas trade, cropping pattern, food habits, openness, demographic structure, culture and economy owing to river system and hydrology. From the earliest times, Bengal has been a crossroads of trade routes where ideas, people, and goods mingled. Once it was from here that Tibetan wares were despatched to Rome. Modern identities in Bengal are the outcome of its long lasting openness, gifted by its river ways and ecology, since times immemorial. In the context of Bengal’s history, I would prefer to argue along with Donald Worster55 to listen to the voice of nature more carefully. A Braudelian and Crosbian histories of Bengal are awaiting their historians to give an environmental voice to archives. The present essay is just a preliminary attempt to write an environmental history of the rivers of Bengal and probe into the related issues of ascertaining the importance of river systems and hydrology in the reconstruction of the social, cultural and environmental history of Bengal.

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Notes   1. Fernand Braudel, The Mediterranean and the Mediterranean World in the Age of Philip II, 2 vols., New York: Harper and Row, 1972.   2. There may be a few notable exceptions like Iftekhar Iqbal, The Bengal Delta: Ecology, State and Social Change, 1840–1943, London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010; and Richard M. Eaton, The Rise of Islam and the Bengal Frontier, 1204–1760, Los Angeles and London: University of California Press, 1973.   3. Cf. Rajat Kanta Ray, Palasir Sarajantra O Sekaler Samaj (in Bengali), Kolkata, 1994; S. Chaudhary, The Prelude to Empire: Plassey Revolution of 1757, Delhi: Manohar, 2000; B.K. Gupta, Sirajuddaulah and the East India Company, 1756–1757: Background to the Foundation of British Power in India, Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1966.   4. Alfred W. Crosby, The Columbian Exchange: Biological and Cultural Consequences of 1492, New York: Greenwood Publishing Group, 1972, passim.  5. Ibid.   6. Col. C.A.R. Browne, of Eastern Bengal State Railway, ‘On the Way to Dacca’, From the Hooghly to the Himalayas Being an Illustrated Handbook to the Chief Places of Interest Reached by the Eastern Bengal State Railway, Bombay: Times Press, 1913, p. 15.   7. Meghna Guhathakurta and Willem van Schendel, The Bangladesh Reader: History, Culture, Politics, Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2013, p. 1.   8. Ghulam M. Suhrawardi, Bangladesh Maritime History, Victoria, Canada: Friesen, 2015, p. 59.   9. W.W. Hunter, A Statistical Account of Bengal, Vol. 1, Districts of the 24 Parganas and Sundarbans, London: Trübner & Co., 1875, pp. 285–346. 10. Surawardi, Bangladesh Maritime History, p. 61. 11. Marc Bloch, Feudal Society, vol. I, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1964, passim. 12. Hunter, A Statistical Account of Bengal, Vol. 1. 13. Md Abdur Rob, ‘Ganges-Padma River System’, Banglapedia: National Encyclopedia of Bangladesh, see http://en.banglapedia.org/index. php?title=Ganges-Padma_River_System, accessed 3 April 2019. 14. Ashis Kr. Paul, Coastal Geomorphology and Environment: Sundarban Coastal Plain, Kanthi Coastal Plain, Subarnarekha Delta Plain, Kolkata: ACB Publications, 2002, p. 26. 15. Ibid.



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16. See J. Allan, Catalogue of the Coins of the Gupta Dynasties and of Sasanka, King of Gauda, London: British Museum, 1914; and S. Basu Majumdar, Kalighat Hoard: The First Gupta Coin Hoard from India, Kolkata: Mira Bose Publications (Library of Numismatic Studies), 2014. 17. See N. Mukhopadhyay, ‘Adi Ganga Parikrama’, Puratattvik, vol. 1, 1980, pp. 36–43; N. Mukhopadhyay, Adi Ganga Pratna Parikrama, Calcutta, 1995; and Rupendra Kumar Chattopadhyay, The Archaeology of Coastal Bengal, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2018. 18. See A. Roy, ‘Early Historic Settlement of the Piyali Valley: A Preliminary Report of Excavations at Dhosha and Tilpi’, published as Nimnagangeya Sundarban Sanskriti Patra, vol. 8, 2006; and A. Roy, Paschimbanga Sarkarer Rajya Puratattva O Pradarshani Bibhag Parichalita Dakshin 24 Pargana Jelar Dhosa O Tilpite Puratattvik Utkhanan Karyer Pratibedan, Dakshin Chabbish Pargana Pratna-Itihas Charcha Samiti, Baruipur, 2007, pp. 48–66. 19. K. Rudra, ‘Tamralipti and its Locational Problem’, in Historical Archaeology of India: A Dialogue between Archaeologists and Historians, ed. A. Ray and S. Mukherjee, New Delhi: Books & Books, 1990, pp. 245–54; R.K. Jana, ‘The Location of Ancient Tamralipta’, Journal of Ancient Indian History, vol. XX (1996–1997), 1997, pp. 73–9. 20. While exploring the works of the European geographers and cartographers like João de Barros (1550), Giacomo Gastaldi (1561), Caeser Frederick (1565), Joan Blaeu (1650), Van den Broucke (1660) and James Rennell (mid-eighteenth century), N.R. Ray has reconstructed the nature of the changing courses of the river. It is indeed a subject of several researches that how Tamralipta found its repeated mention as the legendary port town in literary sources like those of Diodorus Siculus, Quintus Curtius, Plutarch, Strabo and Pliny, besides in the Periplus of Erythraean Sea and travelogues of Faxian, Xuan-Zang and I-Tsing. Excavations at the site of Tamluk have yielded habitational evidence since the Black-and-Red ware bearing pre-metallic phases (the so-called Neolithic phases). The site of Natsal located near the confluence of the rivers Hooghly and Rupnarayan during trial excavations have unfurled the habitational remains of the early historical period if not earlier; cf. N.R. Ray, ‘Tamralipta and Gange— Two Port Cities of Ancient Bengal and Connected Considerations’, The Geographical Review of India, vol. 43, no. 3, 1979, pp. 205–22. 21. Ibid. 22. See, D.C. Sircar, Studies in the Geography of Ancient and Medieval India, Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1960, pp. 173–5. 23. Indian Archaeology: A Review (hereafter referred to as IAR), 1956–57, pp. 29–30; 1957–58, pp. 51–3; 1958–59, pp. 55–6; 1959–60, pp. 50–2; 1960–61, pp. 39–40; 1961–62, pp. 62–3; 1962–63, pp. 46–7; 1963–64,

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pp. 63–5; 1964–65, pp. 52–3; 1965–66, pp. 59–60; 1966–67, p. 48; 2000–01, pp. 156–60. 24. IAR, 1961–62, p. 59; 2000–01, pp. 156–60; Aniruddha Ray, ‘Morphology of Medieval Saptagram or Satgaon’, Journal of Bengal Art, vol. 4, 1999, pp. 217–34; also see, C.L. Fabri, ed., Annual Reports of Archaeological Survey of India for the years 1930–31, 1931–32, 1932–33, 1933–34, Delhi: Manager of Publications, 1936, pp. 36–7. 25. Ray, ‘Tamralipta and Gange’; also see, P.C. Dasgupta, ‘The Gangaridae: A Forgotten Civilization’, Journal of Department of Letters, n.s., vol. 3, 1960, pp. 61–128. 26. Willem van Schendel, Three Deltas: Accumulation and Poverty in Rural Burma, Bengal and South Asia, New Delhi: Sage, 1991, passim; also Sukla Sen and Jyotirmoy Sen, Evolution of Rural Settlements in West Bengal, Delhi: Daya, 1989, passim. 27. Radhakamal Mukherjee, The Changing Face of Bengal, A Study in Reverine Economy, Calcutta: The University of Calcutta, 1938, passim. Mukherjee and many others attributed Bengal’s social ecology to ‘overflow irrigation’, which once nourished Bengal’s agricultural prosperity, and held the colonial construction of railroad and roadway embankments as the root cause of the decline of this prosperity. The decline of Bengal’s prosperity has been also ascribed to the eastward shift of the Ganges. However, ‘overflow irrigation’ the main basis of agriculture in today’s northeastern India and Bangladesh. The collapse of Bengal’s prosperity in the eighteenth and especially in the nineteenth century came as the result of significant interference with the delta’s ecology. Central and western Bengal were especially hard hit. Murshidabad and especially Burdwan were impoverished and turned into malaria stricken tracts. 28. George Rude, Ideology and Popular Protest, London: Lawrence and Wishart, 1980, passim. 29. The largest char in the world, Majuli, is an island formed by the Brahmaputra in central Assam. The silt-laden Himalayan rivers descending onto Gangetic plains leave behind tracts of such land, commonly known as diara in north Bihar and eastern Uttar Pradesh; see Kuntala Lahiri-Dutt and Gopa Samanta, ‘Like the Drifting Grains of Sand: Vulnerability, Security and Adjustment by Communities in the Charlands of the Damodar River, India’, South Asia: Journal of South Asian Studies, vol. 30, no. 2, 2007, pp. 327–50. 30. Ibid. 31. Also spelled as Goalundo. 32. Browne, ‘On the Way to Dacca’, pp. 15–17. 33. Ibid., p. 16. 34. Sukla Sen and Jyotirmoy Sen, Evolution of Rural Settlements, pp. 51–2.



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35. Kumud Nath Mallik, Nadia Kahini, Ranaghat, 1911. 36. Sukla Sen and Jyotirmoy Sen, Evolution of Rural Settlements, pp. 69–70. 37. Iqbal, The Bengal Delta, p. 21. 38. A major slum in San Juan, Puerto Rico, is frequently inundated at high tide; the poor of Rio de Janeiro lives on the slopes of Sugarloaf Mountain subject to landslides, the slum dwellers of Guatemala live on the steeper slopes affected by earthquakes. Similarly, there is no disagreement on the point that the people of Bengal too live in one of the most environmentally fragile zones of the earth; cf. Edward Bryant, Natural Hazards, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005. 39. Radhakamal Mukherjee, The Changing Face of Bengal, A Study in Riverine Economy, Calcutta: The University of Calcutta, 1938, passim. 40. Bankim Chandra Chattopadhyay, ‘Anandamath’, in Bankim Rachanabali, vol. 2, ed. Yogesh Chandra Bagal, Kolkata: Sahitya Samsad, bs 1361. 41. Ratan Dasgupta, ‘Prasanga Mahal Gangapath Islampur’, Rupantarer Pathe, Year 2, No. 35, Malda, 2003, pp. 1–3. 42. Ranjan Chakrabarti, ‘History and Future of Water in South Asia: A Preliminary Probe’, Nova Acta Leopoldina, vol. 114, no. 390, 2013, pp. 81–9. 43. ‘Environmental refugee’ is a new expression which refers to people who have been forced to leave their traditional habitat because of striking environmental disruption or calamity. 44. Schendel, Three Deltas. 45. Rabindranath Tagore, Sahajpath, pt. 2, Kolkata, bs 1337: ‘Haat Boseche Shukrabare Baksiganje Padmapare, Jinispatra Jutie Ene Gramer manus beche kene’. 46. Ranjan Chakrabarti, Terror, Crime and Punishment: Order and Disorder in Early Colonial Bengal, 1800–1860, Kolkata: Readers Service, 2010, p. 207. Disputes between landholders over possession of haat were very common in the nineteenth century. Such disputes often led to armed conflicts between the contending parties. The influential zamindars ran private haats of their own. They appointed large bands of lathials (clubman armed with lathi or stick) to assist their agents in exacting the percentage they extorted from all persons who attended their haats. Violent clashes frequently occurred in the months of August and September every year between the clients of Maharaja of Burdwan and Babu Baikunthanath Chowdhury of Baranagar over the panbazaars in Calcutta. The people who brought pan to Calcutta from different mofussil pan gardens were forced by both parties to join their bazaar. 47. The present discussion will essentially be incomplete without referring to an interesting epigraphic evidence, where the mention of Khadi (which is basically a navigable backwater generally bridging between the sea and river

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48.

49.

50.

51. 52. 53.

A Comprehensive History of Modern Bengal courses) has been made as important geo-political units. The Barrackpore copperplate of Vijayasena of the twelfth century ce mentions a grant of the village of Ghasasambhoga-bhattavada situated in the Khadi-visaya of the Paundravardhana bhukti whereas, the mention of Khadi-mandala has been made in the Sundarban copperplate inscription of Laksmanasena. What can be emphasized from the information is that, the landscape of Bengal is certainly marked by hydrographically dynamic spaces, i.e. Navya and Khadi. It is of no doubt that the ever-changing nature of such navigable routes had significant bearing on the subsistence system of the region, particularly centring on agricultural and maritime activities. See B.C. Sen and D. Ghosh, ‘A Dated Copper-Plate Grant from Sundarban’, The Indian Historical Quarterly, vol. X, 1985, pp. 321–31; D.C. Sircar, ‘Epigraphic Notes: Rakshaskhali (Sundarban) Plate; Saka 1118’, Epigraphia Indica, vol. XXX, 1953–4, pp. 42–6. All these sources were used by historians of Ancient Bengal to understand its agrarian economy or maritime activities, but they were never used to write an ecological history or raise questions relating ecology and environment, see for example, Rupendra Kumar Chattopadhyay, The Archaeology of Coastal Bengal, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2018. Raghuvamsa IV. 36 refers to vangan utkhaya tarasa neta nausadhanodyatan/ nicakhana jayastambhan gangasroto’ntaresusah//; see P.C. Chakravarti, ‘Naval Warfare in Ancient India’, The Indian Historical Quarterly, vol. 12, 1930, pp. 645–64. Line 28 of the copperplate inscription: purvvena Cudamani-NagarasriNauyogayor-mmaddhye jola Daksinena Ganesvara-vilala-puskarinya nanau-khatah; Line 29: Pascimena Pradyumnesvara-devakula-ksetraprantah Uttarena Pradamara-Nauyoga-khatah. See, Dinesh Chandra Bhattacharyya, ‘A Newly Discovered Copperplate from Tippera: The Gunaighar Grant of Vainyagupta, The Year 188 Current (Gupta Era)’, The Indian Historical Quarterly, vol. 6, 1930, pp. 45–60. Paschatya chakra jayakelishu yasya yavad-gangapravahamanudhavati Nau-vitane (Verse 22); see, N.G. Majumdar, ‘Deopara Inscription of Vijayasena’, Inscriptions of Bengal, Vol. III, Containing Inscriptions of the Chandras, the Varmans and the Senas, and of Isvaraghosha and Damodara, Rajshahi: Varendra Research Society, 1929, pp. 42–56. T.C. Das Gupta, Aspects of Bengali Society from Old Bengali Literature, Calcutta: University of Calcutta, 1935, pp. 14–15. Ibid., pp. 16–17; Also see, Rama Sarker and Sila Tripathi, ‘Boat-Building Technology of Bengal: An Overview of Literary Evidences’, Marine Archaeology, vol. 4, July 1993, pp. 84–8. J. Hornell, ‘The Origins and Ethnological Significance of Indian Boat Designs’, Memoirs of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, vol. 7, no. 3, 1920, pp. 139–256.



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54. Sajid-Bin Doza, ‘“Afloat beauty” of the Delta: Study on traditional boats of Bangladesh’, in Heritages and Memories from the Sea: Conference Proceedings of the 1st International Conference of the UNESCO Chair in Intangible Heritage and Traditional Know-How: Linking Heritage, ed. Filipe Themudo Barata and João Magalhães Rocha Evora, Portugal, 2015, pp. 73–85. Doza categorically mentioned that ‘Until the mid-20th century the riverboats of Bangladesh remained the same. But around the 1980s two big technical revolutions took place which suddenly changed the riverscape of Bangladesh from the colourful scenery of hundreds of sails to a bare noisy one’: ibid., p. 74. The reports include dingi (especially for fishing and sometimes for carrying people and goods; rivers Padma, Meghna and Yamuna), fishing boats, Palki, Carpai, Ghasti, Gosti, Chandpur, Podi, Potol, Bik, Sampan, Balam, Tedi Balam, Suluk, Balar, etc. 55. Donald Worster, Nature’s Economy: A History of Ecological Ideas, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1977; Donald Worster, ed., The Ends of the Earth: Perspectives on Modern Environmental History, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988.

9 The Zamindars of West Bengal John R. McLane

T

Transition in Mughal Bengal

he bengali zamindars ran a system of revenue extraction that maintained sharp inequalities and kept the poorest labourers, agriculturalists, fishermen, and weavers in deep poverty. They collaborated with the Mughal and British rulers, both foreigners to Bengal. Just as the tributaries channelled the annual rains and snow melted into broad streams running into the Bay of Bengal, the Bengali zamindars directed rivulets of rupees in the reverse direction to the north-west to imperial Delhi, and later to Calcutta. As a group, like elites elsewhere in the world, they were often ambivalent about serving the outsiders who governed Bengal. But Bengali landholders exhibited no collective resistance to the corrupt and oppressive practices of those alien rulers. The challenge of this essay, therefore, is to explain how a group averse to group resistance and to efforts to improve the common welfare was able to survive for many decades as leaders of their rural societies and collectors of the revenues for foreign or partially alien governments. Before 1700, the zamindars of Bengal generally had been subcollectors under non-Bengali mansabdars on temporary assignment to Bengal.1 The effect of Bengali-speaking zamindars replacing the non-Bengali mansabdars in the early eighteenth century was to make *This chapter relies heavily for arguments and evidence on John R. McLane, Land and Local Kingship in Eighteenth-Century Bengal, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993.



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the Mughal government more reliant on indigenous, semi-permanent collectors. The newly empowered Bengali zamindars and their dependent collectors gathered a sizeable share of the cash obtained from the sale of handicraft textiles, rice, sugar, salt, and other items, and remitted the government’s share to the provincial diwan (chief revenue office) and nizam (head civil officer; sometimes spelled nazim). The provincial government in turn transmitted much of the income to the Mughal emperor. Bengal province, with its monetized textile and agricultural sectors, stood out as the major source of revenue or tribute for the Mughal and then the East India Company governments. No other province remitted as much. The late seventeenth and early eighteenth century were a period of relative affluence in Bengal. The economy may have benefited from the inability of the Mughal administrators to conduct the local surveys that allowed them to raise the land revenue demand and depress economies elsewhere in upper India. In Bengal, local rebellions, difficult transportation in the flood-prone deltaic terrain, and a shortage of personnel impeded the survey process. Agricultural and handicraft production, as well as the population, were rising. The Bengal muslin weaving industry through the seventeenth century had been drawing more foreign traders up the rivers to purchase fabrics at the inland riverside markets. So great was the domestic and international demand for Bengali cotton and silk goods that possibly one million people, out of a population of perhaps twenty million, made their living from weaving.2 The English, Dutch, Armenians, and other foreign merchants sailed deep into the interior to the thriving markets at Dhaka, Qasimbazar, Hughli, Rajmahal, and Patna to buy textiles, sugar, and other goods. These riverbank market towns attracted merchants, bankers, and government officials. The market towns rivalled the interior zamindari headquarter towns as places for affluent and entrepreneurial families to settle. In 1702, the Mughal government moved the office of diwani from Dhaka to Mukshudabad (later renamed Murshidabad).3 Part of the reason was to be nearer to the trading marts of north India and the fast-growing market town of Qasimbazar on the upper reach of the Bhagirathi/Hughli River, upstream from the European factories at Fort William, Hughli, Chinsurah, and Serampore. European

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observers were struck by Bengal’s apparent prosperity. The muchquoted observation by Francois Bernier after visits in 1656 and 1668 that Bengal was ‘the finest and most fruitful country in the world’ was only one example.4 Although impressed by Bengal’s booming economy, Europeans also observed that Mughal officials assigned to Bengal were diverting major portions of the new currency away from the Mughal treasury into their private accounts. They were doing this at a time when the Mughal treasury was depleted by Aurangzib’s prolonged campaigns to subdue the Deccan. Members of the royal family, including Bengal nizams Shah Shuja (1664–78 and 1679–88), Shaista Khan (1688–9), and Azimuddin (1697–1712), appeared distracted by the competitions in the emperor’s family. They were said to have appropriated sums for themselves that equalled more than half the government’s revenue demand during the years they served in Bengal.5 If those estimates are to be believed, it suggests that Mughal Bengal was under-assessed and that the nazims, diwans, and other mansabdars were using harsh measures to extract surpluses from the small zamindars and revenue farmers who collected revenue from the villages. This was the situation that led Aurangzib to distrust mansabdars in Bengal. In an act that changed the course of Bengal’s history, in 1701, Aurangzib appointed Murshid Quli Khan as diwan of Bengal, with orders to improve Bengal’s finances. In his background, he was anything but a typical mansabdar. Murshid Quli had been born into a poor Brahmin family in the Deccan. He was sold while still a boy as ‘a slave’ to Haji Shafi Khan, a high-ranking Mughal revenue officer from Isfahan, where Murshid Quli spent some years. Shafi Khan had served Aurangzib as both imperial diwan and Bengal diwan. He converted the boy to Shi’a Islam, named him Muhammad Hadi, and raised him as if he was his son. After retiring from Mughal service and taking him to Persia, Shafi Khan died. In c.1696, Muhammad Hadi returned to the Deccan and entered the Mughal revenue administration.6 Murshid Quli Khan (the title by which Muhammad Hadi is commonly known) was an outsider to the elites of the mansabdari class. He was a Shi’a, was not related to the emperor, harboured no ambitions to replace Aurangzib as emperor, and did not suffer from the declining morale among imperial mansabdars who resented military assignments to the south or Bengal as well as the delays



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of several years in receiving their salaries.7Aurangzib hoped that Murshid Quli would restore fiscal discipline to Bengal and prevent rebellions such at the major uprising in southwest Bengal in 1695–8, just before his appointment, by Shova Singh and Rahim Khan (this rebellion is discussed hereinafter). The difficulty in suppressing this revolt revealed how ineffectual Mughal mansabdars and kotwals were in Bengal. Shova Singh’s revolt and the province’s fiscal disorganization explain Aurangzib’s decision to appoint the outsider Murshid Quli Khan as diwan. And it suggests why Murshid Quli preferred Hindu zamindars to the Mughal mansabdars. Aurangzib gave his full support to Murshid Quli’s efforts to restore order after the Shova Singh rebellion and to establish his authority over the Turani and Mughal mansabdars in Bengal. In 1704, after Murshid Quli moved the revenue administration of the diwani westward from Dhaka to the site he renamed Murshidabad, he distanced himself from the nizam, Azimuddin, whose ambitions were focused on the approaching succession struggle in Delhi. Murshid Quli set out to gather as much information as he could about local revenue resources. When zamindars failed to pay their expected revenue demand, he treated them severely and replaced them with ijaradars or amils (temporary collectors). His methods were harsh, but effective. He incarcerated collectors in arrears and denied them access to food, water, and toilets. Further refusal sometimes led to compulsory conversion to Islam.8 Nazir Ahmad, a chief enforcer, was reported to hang zamindars in arrears by their heels and beat them until they agreed to pay. Sayyid Reza Khan, Murshid Quli’s deputy diwan and husband of his granddaughter, was reported to have dragged defaulters through a pit of human excrement, called Baikuntha (the celestial home of Lord Vishnu; a Hindu paradise), and dressed others in britches that he filled with live cats.9 Murshid Quli’s biographer, Abdul Karim, doubts that these stories of extreme cruelty are true, given Murshid Quli’s reputation for justice.10 But all agree that Murshid Quli effectively collected the revenues. After Aurangzib’s death in 1707, Murshid Quli was transferred back to the Deccan for two years. In 1710, he returned to Murshidabad as diwan, freer from the emperor’s supervision as the empire disintegrated. He resumed his severe revenue-collecting methods. He imprisoned and, in some instances, tortured ijaradars and zamindars

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in arrears. He sent officers, mostly Hindus, into the districts to reassess some lands and gave contracts to new ijaradars in some areas. He succeeded in raising the collections closer to the state’s demand. In 1722, he imposed a new settlement on Bengal, increasing the demand to Rs.1.42 crore, which was 9 per cent above the settlement of 1656 according to some calculations. Because Murshid Quli collected a larger share of the demand than his predecessors, he may have raised the actual collections by a fifth or more.11

Zamindars in Mughal Bengal The subject of this study are the zamindars. Under Murshid Quli, they became crucial to the non-Bengalis who governed Bengal from Murshidabad and later Calcutta. Under the terms of their sanads (revocable deeds) given to them by the Mughal government, zamindars were appointed to collect the mal jama, i.e. rent from arable and non-arable land, the sair or ‘tolls and excise  .  .  .  from river traffic and markets’, and ‘the baze-jama, being the fines, forfeitures, and marriage fees.’12 As collaborating collectors, the Bengal zamindars had indirectly provided Emperor Aurangzib with the income needed for campaigns in southern India and the fight against the spreading rebellions in western and northern India. After Aurangzib died in 1707 and after the rebellions among Marathas, Jats, Sikhs, and others reduced the emperor’s territory to a fraction of its former area, Bengal’s revenue of over Rs.1 crore per year helped keep alive the fiction of Mughal power at Delhi.13 Zamindars used intermediaries to collect the land revenue from their tenant raiyats in an economy dominated by small cultivators and handicraft weaving. They were revenue collectors rather than agriculturalists, and were separated from the cultivators by layers of intermediaries. Almost no evidence exists of zamindars showing interest in or knowledge of agricultural practices and hands-on farming. The common view is that ‘the basic process of production and the level of technique’ continued unchanged in ‘the small scale peasant economy.’14 The techniques of growing rice, sugar, oil seeds, grains, pulses, and mulberry plants were apparently static through the century, apart from a significant expansion in the area under cultivation. Large areas of Bengal had not yet been cleared



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for cultivation. Both the Mughal state and zamindars encouraged extension of cultivation through cash advances and leases that increased incrementally or understated the area under cultivation. Otherwise, to repeat, large and mid-sized zamindars appeared not to be involved in agriculture itself. The multiple, steeply-graded strata of cultivating peasants—superior raiyats (tenants cultivating with multiple ploughs, lending money, and marketing their produce), intermediate raiyats, non-resident raiyats, share-croppers, agricultural labourers, etc.—were the main repositories of agricultural knowledge, it seems, although local gentry, including upwardly mobile superior raiyats, may also have been knowledgeable. The raja-zamindars’ reliance on sub-collectors, often designated as taluqdars in Bengal’s revenue discussions, is an important reason zamindari subjects tolerated or respected their rajas. This hierarchical arrangement created a division of function. The intermediaries executed the messy, difficult role of forcing peasants to surrender proceeds from the sale of agricultural produce. This involved sending peons to threaten or use coercion—unpopular actions. The intermediaries often absorbed blame for cruelty or extortion while the zamindars were partly freed to cultivate patrician forms of religious piety, charity, and forbearance. The zamindars in effect were little, semi-autonomous rajas or kings. They were the indigenous authority maintaining order outside the eight or so largest towns, in which Mughal kotwals kept the peace and prosecuted law-breakers. In addition to collecting land revenue and duties on trade, the zamindars maintained small militias to assist kotwals, escort treasure, subdue unruly subjects, and sometimes annex weaker neighbours. In the early decades of the century, those militias occasionally fought against invaders alongside the nawab’s army. As the century progressed, though, the nawabs and the East India Company lost confidence in zamindari militias. The militias shrank in numbers and military effectiveness. The zamindars also oversaw judicial processes, including non-capital cases and those affecting marriage and other matters relating to caste. The founders of the larger estates were descended from literate ancestors, from ‘the scribal communities,’ who had served Sultanate or Mughal government departments. The ancestors had been qanungos, amils, chaudhuris, kotwals, or other functionaries who

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had impressed provincial officials with their knowledge of Persian and accounting and with their dependability as revenue collectors and occasionally as military leaders. These men were then rewarded with the lands of delinquent or deceased neighbours. Whatever their origins, most of the zamindars who emerged with large estates in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth century came from the cultures which they governed and behaved in ways with which their subjects were familiar. It is worth recalling that Warren Hastings, a severe and knowledgeable critic of zamindars’ behaviour, wrote in 1772 that ‘from a long continuance of the lands to their families, it is to be concluded they have rivetted an authority in the district, acquired an ascendancy over the minds of the ryotts, and ingratiated their affections.’15 The paucity of peasant risings in eighteenth-century deltaic Bengal gives credibility to that observation. The linguistic and bureaucratic skills acquired in the families of zamindars and their top employees enabled the collaboration with the nawabi government. Zamindars and their amla had studied Persian in order to enhance their employability. Zamindars maintained vakils and other intermediaries knowledgeable of Persian and/or accounting at Murshidabad to negotiate the terms of their obligations. They had incorporated Persian etiquette and Mughal food, clothes, and architecture into their courts. One may guess that this cultural appropriation and bi-culturalism also affected elite identity and lessened the likelihood that Bengali elites would consider Mughal rulers as entirely alien.

The Rituals and Culture of Revenue Collection Nothing better illustrates the biculturalism of the zamindari system than the government’s annual puniya (revenue collecting ceremony) to mark the close of the past revenue year and the opening of the new year.16 Murshid Quli seems to have adapted the ceremony, perhaps with the help of the banking family that came to be known after 1723 as the Jagat Seths or bankers to the world.17 The puniya ceremony was held at Murshidabad in the month of Baisak at the beginning of the planting season, when peasants were planting the aman crop, the fast-growing, main rice crop. In most years, the major revenue payers



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with their accountants and armed guards travelled to Murshidabad in palanquins, in swiftly-rowed boats, and on elephants. As David Curley wrote, they left behind their role as Sanskritic rajas and entered Murshidabad as Mughal zamindars.18 Without question, many zamindars and revenue farmers approached the capital with trepidation, uncertain what surprises the gathering might bring. Revenue-payers had multiple reasons for anxiety. They brought the final kist (instalment payment) of the concluding year or they prepared to negotiate how to pay off any arrears. If a zamindar or revenue farmer owed arrears, the banking house of the Jagat Seth was present to loan money to the delinquent or to act as a guarantor for the coming year. If a collector failed to complete his payment, he faced prison and/or dispossession. A collector might be asked to give a present to a nawabi official in exchange for having a revenue demand lowered or forgiven. The diwan or nizam often forced a zamindar to commit to an increase in the estate’s jama. Or he sometimes added an abwab (cess added to the ordinary demand) to the jama in order to pay for an invasion or some other unexpected financial need. For the puniya ceremony, the diwan or nizam sat under an embroidered tent in darbar. An official, such as a mace-bearer, called forward revenue payers in ranked order and each bowed to the ruler. In some years, several hundreds of revenue-payers and their officers attended. Each paid a nazr (gift to a superior) of gold coins to the diwan or nizam and his main officials. The ruler in return gave each a khilat or dress of honour, scaled according to his rank. The khilat was more than a robe: the khilat of a major zamindar might include an elephant or horse, a sword, turban, robe, and other items. The implied intimacy of sharing clothes from the emperor’s wardrobe and sharing sweets and/or food was presumably intended to reduce the impersonality and shrink the distances in the vast, bureaucratic reaches of the empire.19 Khilats were a common means of honouring prominent dependents in the Mughal Empire and central Asian kingdoms. What seems to have been new with Murshid Quli Khan was the merging of the khilat ceremony with the ancient annual Hindu commercial ritual of closing and opening account books. In the puniya, the superior revenue collector, if Hindu, engaged Brahmins

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to worship Lakshmi or another appropriate deity, and he distributed sweets, cakes, and fruits. Hindus used the term puniya to mark the holiness of the event. It comes from the Sanskrit term punyaha, connoting auspiciousness, merit, good fortune. The Murshidabad puniya reemphasized the authority and superiority of the Mughal ruler each year. It reasserted the obligation of the zamindar to pay his revenue. It displayed in public the ranked order of the hierarchy over which the ruler presided. By bringing the zamindars into his physical presence, he was reminding the assembled zamindars that he and they shared the considerable benefits of their collaboration, including the honour and financial gains.20 It was a partnership. After the puniya was completed, those revenue-payers not imprisoned returned to their zamindari headquarter and conducted a sadr puniya, with the aid of Brahmins, for their tenants. The zamindar handed out khilats to his major dependents. In large estates, such as Burdwan, the zamindari amla held mofussil puniyas in the outlying districts. Paul Greenough quoted an early nineteenth-century account of a mofussil puniya in Hughli district: First, in each village of the estate, worship of Laksmi was performed by a village Brahman at the expense of the landlord. Then a male representative of the tenant family longest in residence in the village (the puniya patra rayat) paid his rent by handing silver rupees to the landlord’s agent, who handed them in turn to the Brahman, who placed the coins ceremoniously in a special collection vessel. The other tenants followed suit. At the same time a new account book for the year was opened by the landlord’s agent, after it had been anointed with vermillion, tumeric, ghee, and sandalwood paste by the priest. Rent-collecting and accounting were thus drawn into the realm of ritual.21

The hybrid nature of the puniya ceremony was analogous to the way zamindari loyalty was split between their own subjects and the nizam’s regime. Zamindars and many of their top employees had prepared themselves to share kingship with the Mughals. They had studied Persian in order to qualify for appointments under the alien Mughal government. They hired vakils and other intermediaries knowledgeable of Persian and/or accounting to negotiate the terms of their obligations in Murshidabad. They had incorporated



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Persian etiquette into their courts. They knew from experience and observation what happened to disloyal appointees. Yet the zamindars’ sense of obligation was perpetually drawn towards the interests and preferences of their own Bengali zamindari subjects. When they looked down on the steep Hindu social pyramids in their territories, presumably they felt determined to create and preserve connections with their hereditary subjects, at the same time as they extracted the necessary rents. They were obliged to command obedience and respect from their local subjects. Nevertheless, in the upheavals of the eighteenth century, there must have been many periods when privileged people doubted their ability to squeeze the rents from their subjects. Revenue obligations were theoretically stable for long periods of time, but the ecological and political conditions shifted repeatedly with climatic disaster and political upheaval. In this volatile environment, zamindari survival required the compromises of self-interested calculation and collaboration rather than heroism or principle. Zamindars were squeezed between their dependency on the temporary foreign rulers and obligations to their hereditary subjects. As the Bengali aphorism said, ‘Dangae bagh jole kumir [There’s a tiger on the land, and a crocodile in the water]’. As the highest authority in most of the hinterland beyond the capital, the zamindar-rajas were local kings, regardless of their origins or ethnicity. The fact they embodied many classic behaviours of the rajas of dharmic literature and recent history enabled them to fit comfortably into Bengal’s Hindu social fabric. Zamindars, with what seemed like competitive zeal, patronized learned Brahmin families with stipends and grants of rent-free land in order to induce them to settle on and remain in their territory. Zamindari subjects consulted these Brahmins, educated in Sanskrit tols in Nabadwip, Varanasi, etc., about marriage, inheritance, diet, social morality, ritual observance, and many other issues. Classical canons of raja-dharma provided ready-made frameworks, in rhetoric suited for an agrarian people, which explained proper conduct within the zamindari system, justifying coercion while limiting violence, encouraging generosity while curbing avarice and cruelty. For example, the legal commentaries assumed that in the current, degraded age, danda (stick, chastisement, force) was central to the king’s responsibility to

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curb evil, maintain order, and reward the righteous. The Mahabharata stated that ‘right leans on might (danda) as a creeper on a tree. As smoke follows the wind, so right follows might.’22 And Yajnavalkya justified taxing for public benefit, but he warned that excessive taxing might drive people to rise up: ‘Manu said the king should take “little by little,” as the leech does from its host, the calf from the udder, and the bee from the flower. The tigress carried her cubs between her teeth and the rat gnawed at a sleeping man’s feet without causing injury, and so should the king levy taxes.’23 Zamindars were partners in the nawabi system that, it seems, routinely obtained compliance by administrating measured doses of bodily pain, torture, imprisonment, confiscation of personal possessions, and forfeiture of land. It is true that the thin information about coercion in the eighteenth-century Bengal does not yield proof of routine cruelty in rural Bengal. We have Bharatchandra’s fictional Burdwan town episode in the Vidya-Sundara, written in 1752–3. Sundara, the stranger-hero, wanders into Burdwan town, passing ‘six forts and garrisons before reaching a central square. In the middle of the square was a prison, and the execution ground. And all around were thousands of robbers and thieves, chains on their legs, begging for food. The noise was like hell itself, with the cracking of bones and the snap of the lash and slap of leather on human flesh. Some of the wretched prisoners, were praying, some were screaming, and some moaning “Father, O father! I am dying! Save me!” and in fear of their chief, some of the guards showed mercy.’24 However, this passage does not prove routine violence. Bharatchandra had personal motives that may explain the suggestion of cruelty and violation of sexual taboos by a female of the Burdwan raj family. The raja of Burdwan had imprisoned Bharatchandra in 1740 and confiscated his land.25 It is possible that zamindars and their servants tortured and killed their subjects without Nawabi, Company, or other observers reporting it. But the known cases are few. And in theory at least, ‘the Mughal government reserved to itself the right to execute or maim those found guilty of major crimes.’26 It is more certain that zamindars routinely used milder forms of coercion to punish delinquents or collect rents. The common forms included beatings and/or detention in a kachari (office), locking a



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person in stocks, and stationing of peons or soldiers at the house of a delinquent, sometimes requiring the accused to purchase the peons’ food or pay their salaries. Whippings (‘stripes’) were administered with a rattan or switch, a strap, or a shoe, sometimes depending on the social status of the accused. Punishments in public were considered humiliating. These might include riding on a donkey or exposure in stocks. They included the distraint of an accused’s cattle and crops. And they included ordeals, such as placing the hand of an accused in boiling ghee. Coercion was routine and taken for granted by Bengalis and probably by most Europeans. When Warren Hastings reviewed an Indian’s murder conviction by a nawabi court for beating a female slave to death, he reversed the conviction on the grounds that there was no evidence of intention to murder and that ‘Mahomedan Law as well as our admits of moderate correction to a slave or even a hired servant.’27

The Expansion of the Major Zamindars Murshid Quli Khan, as noted above, singled out successful ijaradars and other collectors, usually Hindus, and appointed them as zamindars with enlarged estates and the right of inheritance. The normal process for a favoured landholder to increase his estate was to negotiate a new jama and to offer a security for the revenue at Murshidabad. The security or malzamin was typically a banker or merchant who co-signed with the zamindar for payment of the revenue, in exchange for a small percentage of the collections. In many cases, the malzamin was a member of the Jagat Seth family, the Marwaris who first came to Patna in 1652, received the title of Jagat Seth (banker to the world) in 1723, and served as creditors and minter of coins for Murshid Quli and other nizams of Bengal.28 Together, the bankers and the large zamindars formed what Philip Calkins described as ‘a regionally oriented ruling group.’29 The four biggest zamindaris, all enlarged under Murshid Quli, were Burdwan, Dinajpur, Nadia, and Rajshahi (Nator). The zamindars of Nadia and Rajshahi were Bengali Brahmins; the zamindars of Dinajpur were Bengali Kayasthas; and the zamindars of Burdwan were Khatris from the Punjab. Birbhum and Bishnupur, two other large, hereditary zamindaris, both on lightly administrated and less

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fertile terrain on the western frontier, were not surveyed or much enhanced. It is not easy to generalize about why Murshid Quli decided to enlarge the Burdwan, Dinajpur, Nadia, and Rajshahi zamindaris in particular. All four rajas came from the same high caste Hindu groups (Brahmins, Kayasthas, and Khatris) from which the Mughals had recruited scribes, accountants, collectors, superior administrators, etc., since they arrived in India. These caste identities meant that the zamindars had easy access to kinsmen experienced in accounting, recordkeeping, and management of revenues. Professional, experienced amla and vakils were at least as essential for sustaining a large estate as the personal qualities of the zamindars themselves. All four rajas and their amla had owned or managed zamindaris before Murshid Quli and had demonstrated their competence and loyalty to Mughal rulers in the face of challenges from non-Bengali rebels and dissidents. Three of the four rajas held large estates before Murshid Quli arrived. Therefore, as Abdul Karim has argued, Jadunath Sarkar’s statement that the new diwan ‘created a new landed aristocracy’ is misleading. Rather, he allowed the larger zamindars to impose their power over the smaller zamindaris and ijaradars.30 Murshid Quli, an austere and devout Muslim, was well known for favouring Hindus for appointment to positions in the revenue service. All four were noted for their piety, temple construction, puja celebrations, and patronage of learned and pious Brahmins. Three of the four claimed they had descended from immigrants to Bengal. The Nadia rajas claimed that the mythical King Adisura brought their ancestor from Kanauj in ad 1032 as one of the five Brahmins through whom he wanted to restore Brahmanic orthodoxy after centuries of Buddhist dominance under the Pala dynasty. The Dinajpur similarly claimed descent from one of the five Kayasthas brought by Adisura. The Burdwan raj family were Khatris who came from the Punjab in the Mughal period, supposedly on a pilgrimage to Puri. The Nadia raj stood out both for its cultivation of Sanskritic culture and values and for its antiquity. Navadwip had been capital of the Sena dynasty, the last Hindu empire before the Muslim conquest. It was the most popular pilgrimage place on the sacred Bhagirathi River. The Nadia rajas set up Sanskrit tols there and the Vaishnava saint, Chaitanya (1486–1534), studied at one such school.



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Mughal favours on Nadia seemed to depend on its loyalty, antiquity, reputation as the centre of Vaishnava devotion and scholarship, and commanding position along the crucial trading avenue of western Bengal. Several of its ancestors had close relations with Mughal subahdars, who gave them the title of maharaja. Raja Durgadas, for example, helped Man Singh suppress the revolt of Raja Pratapaditya in the early seventeenth century. As a reward, Emperor Jahangir conferred the title of Maharaja on Durgadas and confirmed his ownership of his father’s fourteen parganas.31 And like Burdwan, Nadia remained loyal to the Mughals during deprivations it suffered during the rebellion of Shova Singh and Rahim Khan in 1695–8, which is discussed next. The vast Rajshahi or Nator zamindari, in stark contrast, was new, cobbled together in the early eighteenth century by a Brahmin of exceptional ambition and ability. Raghunandan, the son of a tehsildar (revenue collector) under the Puthia zamindari in modern Rajshahi district, supported Murshid Quli in his rivalry with nazim Azimuddin. Murshid Quli appointed Raghunandan manager of the provincial mint at Murshidabad and allowed his brother, Ramjivan, to take over the management of many estates, including some in Bhushna, Rajshahi, and Murshidabad.32 These constituted the Nator zamindari. Geography and historical chance favoured each of the enlarged zamindaris. The Burdwan raj is a prime example of a zamindari family’s fate becoming entwined with the Mughal government’s largely because of its location. The frontier town of Burdwan was days of travel away from Murshidabad, over one hundred miles south-west by road. It was 75 miles by road north-west of Calcutta, across the fertile rice fields on the west side of the Bhagirathi. Burdwan town bordered the Damodar River, the shallow and flood-prone stream which served as the southern administrative frontier of Bengal for the first century of Mughal rule. Thirty miles west of Burdwan, the land began to rise to the thinly populated laterite hills of the Chota Nagpur plateau, with its independent aboriginal tribes.33 The grand Badshahi road to Orissa came south through Burdwan from the former Muslim capitals of Gaur, Pandua, Tanda, and Rajmahal in the north. South of Burdwan on the way to Orissa, the road narrowed. North of Burdwan town, the Badshahi road was

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broad, raised, and lined with shade trees. Every eight miles was a mosque and probably a serai (caravansary, inn with courtyard and stables). Sizeable Mughal armies, with their elephants, camels, horses, and artillery, rested and re-provisioned at Burdwan in their frequent campaigns against the Afghan, Maratha, and chuar (pejorative term for tribal peoples) forces southward from Burdwan into Midnapore and Orissa. The zamindar of Burdwan and his officers travelled this road towards Murshidabad with his elephants and horses and armed guards to pay the final kist (instalment) and any existing arrears at the Nawab’s annual puniya. The numerous stays of the army in the town are presumably how Mughal officers became familiar with the ancestors of the Burdwan raj Kapur family which had migrated to the vicinity from the Punjab decades earlier and had established themselves as merchants and bankers. In 1657, the Kapur family, which belonged to the Khatri jati, supplied a Mughal military expedition with needed provisions. In return, Abu Rai received an appointment from the Mughals, as Burdwan kotwal and as zamindar of two parganas. Mughal administrators, like earlier Muslim rulers, depended on Khatris from the early decades of their empire. The most famous of the distinguished Khatris who served the Mughals was the great Raja Todar Mal, Akbar’s diwan who designed Akbar’s revenue system and prepared the Bengal revenue settlement of 1582. Todar Mal also led an army against the Afghans in Bengal. The appointment of Abu Rai as a Mughal functionary in 1657 continued an established partnership with Khatri officials. Unlike the other major zamindars, the Burdwan family had few hereditary ties to Bengal that might have compromised their willingness to cooperate with the alien Mughals.34 The dependence of the Kapur family on the Mughals was cemented during the rebellion of Shova Singh, in the time of Krishnaram Kapur. The Shova Singh revolt had major implications for the future of the Bengal subah because, as stated above, it motivated Aurgangzib’s decision to transfer Murshid Quli to Bengal, who in turn elevated the local zamindars. The revolt also led directly to Europeans fortifying their Bengal factories and it induced the English East Company in 1698 to acquire zamindari rights for the three villages that became Calcutta. By the time of Shova’s rebellion, the Burdwan estate was a substantial zamindari, covering perhaps several hundred villages,



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with an annual revenue demand of Rs.22 lakh. In late 1695, Shova Singh, a Chauhan Rajput from the Chandrakona-Ghatal section of what is now northern Midnapur district and a small ijaradar under Krishnaram, the Burdwan zamindar, had raised several thousand infantrymen, attacked Krishnaram for an unknown reason, overpowered the estate’s small guard, and killed Krishnaram along with 21 members of the Burdwan raj family. Apparently only one son survived.35 Shova seized much of the Burdwan estate before he and his forces turned to the west and north. After his death in 1696, his fellow rebel named Rahim Khan, a Patan, took over leadership of the rebellions. He recruited ‘disgruntled Afghans from north India.’ With an expanded force of 10,000 cavalry and 60,000 infantrymen, the rebels occupied a large area, including the rich port of Hughli, and the European factories at Makhsusabad, Malda, and Rajmahal. They set up chaukis (guard houses or stations) for the collection of tolls along the Bhagirathi River and they disrupted the trade along the Bhagirathi and Ganges corridor, on which Mughal revenue depended. Emperor Aurangzib berated nizam Ibrahim Khan for his failure to suppress the rebellion and in 1697 replaced him by appointing his grandson, Azimuddin, as nizam. Azimuddin set up the provincial headquarters at Burdwan town for several years but showed little energy as he watched the competition outside Bengal to succeed Aurangzib. To repeat, the European companies were so alarmed by the danger to their factories and trade, they sought and received imperial permission to fortify their factories.36 According to Kapur family tradition and numerous historical accounts, Krishnaram’s daughter, Satyabati, stabbed Shova Singh to death in the summer of 1696 when Shova tried to rape her. She then took her own life. Aniruddha Ray has disputed that account, pointing out that no daughter survived given that ‘the farman of 1734 and the contemporary European documents clearly mention that, excepting a son  .  .  .  all family members of Krishnaram were killed.’ Ray credits another account that says that Shova died from an accidental fall from a terrace.37 After Shova’s death, Rahim Khan, the Patan chief from Orissa and Shova’s partner, assumed leadership of the revolt, recruited ‘disgruntled Afghans from north India,’ and built up a force of some 8,000 horses. The revolt expanded under Rahim Khan, but he was no

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match for the Mughal army. Few zamindars or peasants in western Bengal joined him to fight the Mughal government. When the new nizam, Azimuddin, marched south from Rajmahal to Burdwan in late 1697 along the badshahi road, zamindars came out to show their allegiance.38 The revolt was largely suppressed by 1698, but some rebels held out until 1703–4. The Burdwan and Nadia zamindars were no doubt grateful that the Mughals had rescued them and restored order in their estates. Memories of their dependence on and help from the imperial government seemed to shape family behaviour in the following decades. As all students of South Asian history know, the first years of the eighteenth century were momentous ones for inhabitants across India. From 1707 to 1720, as the imperial system crumbled, members of the royal family fought four wars of succession. The central elements of the Mughal ‘war-state,’ the revenue system and the jagir-based army, ‘degenerated to caricatures.’39 In northern and western India, Rajputs, Jats, Sikhs, and Marathas rebelled. In Bengal, the changes were sweeping but less chaotic. As Bengal slipped out of Delhi’s control and oversight, Murshid Quli Khan and the newly expanded zamindars imposed stability missing in other provinces. Analysis of how a few zamindaris expanded in newly autonomous Bengal is scattered and somewhat thin. So is the fate of the small zamindars, taluqdars, and ijaradars who were absorbed by the larger zamindaris. A close look at the available evidence about the growth of the Burdwan zamindari and its incorporation of new subjects after the Shova Singh rebellion is illuminating. It is likely that the expansion of Rajshahi and Dinajpur took similar paths.40 Two aspects stand out. First, Burdwan’s growth was notably violent, especially in comparison with the peacefulness of Bengal’s zamindaris during British rule. In the middle decades of the eighteenth century, Burdwan was fortunate to have an especially effective diwan who was also a competent military officer. Diwan Manikchandra, an up-country Khatri, later was recruited to serve the Mughal administrations of Alivardi Khan and Sirajuddaula, and also the English East Company. In the early and middle decades of the century, Burdwan maintained a large militia containing nonBengali soldiers, ten or so forts, and a foundry that produced arms. Burdwan also obtained cannons from the Mughals and occasionally fought alongside Mughal forces.



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A second aspect of Burdwan’s expansion was that Murshid Quli’s government seemed to encourage Burdwan’s aggression against its neighbours and at times even aided it directly. Mughal officials were keenly aware that Burdwan sat on the edge of a disturbed frontier. That is why nizam Azimuddin and his army stayed in Burdwan town for over two years following Shova Singh and Rahim Khan’s rebellion. Azim built a mosque in Burdwan town. The need for military security and a stable revenue collection system would explain why Murshid Quli encouraged Burdwan’s attacks on the unsettled zamindaris on the western and south-western frontier of Bengal. His security interests aligned well with Burdwan’s ambition. After Shova Singh’s slaughter of the Kapur family, the Mughal government at Dhaka gave refuge to the surviving Jagatram Rai. The government brought him back from Dhaka to Burdwan in 1699 to take over management of his father’s medium-sized estate. Aurangzib gave Jagatram a farman in 1699 confirming him as ‘Zamindar and Chaudhuri of Parganas Burdwan, etc.’ The farman required him to encourage cultivation. The estate now consisted of fifty mahals. The Mughal government remained closely interested in the Burdwan zamindari. Murshid Quli Khan, in addition to serving as diwan of Bengal, was appointed faujdar of Burdwan and Hughli in July 1701, which suggest that his government viewed Burdwan as particularly vital to Bengal’s security.41 Soon after, in 1702, the Kapur family suffered another blow when Jagatram was assassinated, perhaps by one of his own officials whose motives are not known.42 He was succeeded by his elder son, Kirtichandra. The Mughal government continued to assist the Kapur family through these disasters. It is known that Murshid Quli was camped at Burdwan in January 1705. Even if he did not spend much time at Burdwan as kotwal, he and his officers would have had ample opportunity in this period of close ties to Burdwan to estimate the qualities of Kirtichandra and the men who ran the zamindari. The confidence they gained led them to allow and enable Burdwan’s growth. This in turn allowed the Burdwan family and its amla to ingratiate themselves with the Mughal administration. Burdwan zamindars, Kirtichandra Rai (1702–40) and his son, Chitrasen Rai (1740–4), carried out the major annexations. Kirtichandra’s expansion was exceptional. Starting with six or seven parganas, he held fifty-six by the time of the Mughal revenue

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settlement of 1726. These covered most of modern Burdwan district and much of Hughli district. With a revenue obligation of Rs.2,047,506 in 1726, only Rajshahi came close among Bengal’s zamindars, with a demand of Rs.1,700,000. The policy of Murshid Quli Khan, as seen, was to permit the reliable revenue collectors to take over the smaller neighbouring zamindaris. This process of consolidation led to a pattern of huge zamindaris in western and central Bengal. By the time the English East Company assumed control of the provincial government from the nawabs in 1765, a dozen or so large zamindars collected over half the provincial revenues. The largest estates were gigantic. Rajshahi covered almost 13,000 square miles and Burdwan some 5,000 square miles. When a large zamindar absorbed a small zamindari holding, did the small, absorbed zamindar, if continued in place, cease to be a zamindar? From the perspective of the rent-paying cultivatortenant, little would change when his local zamindar shifted from paying revenue directly to a government official to paying through an intermediary. From the vantage point of a cultivator, his local superior was still a raja or chota raja, a local king controlling multiple villages who lived off the fruits of the cultivator’s labour, who advanced money for the annual planting, who patronized ceremonial occasions and religious specialists, and who settled disputes between his subjects and punished wrong-doers. In other words, Bengali kingship was widely shared and dispersed among the multiple levels of revenue collectors. This continuity in the social and economic functions of intermediaries in the revenue collecting hierarchy caused some confusion in the term zamindar. Here one follows a common British practice and uses the term zamindar in Bengal for the landholder paying revenue directly to the government. And one uses taluqdar in its original Arabic sense of depending, of serving as an intermediary paying revenue to the state through the zamindar.43 After the consolidation of the big estates early in the eighteenth century, Bengal had no shortage of chota rajas. Sub-collectors and taluqdars were chota rajas, and so were close relatives of the larger zamindars. Like deities, chota rajas came in many forms and they proliferated. In the frontier regions of east and southwest Bengal,



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many small zamindaris survived after Murshid Quli’s consolidation. Chittagong had 1,500 zamindars, while Midnapur had 3,000. 44 Even though this essay focuses on large zamindars, who dominate contemporary accounts and records, it is important to remember the ubiquity of the less visible landholders who enacted the small raja role of revenue collecting, policing, and sustaining Hindu rituals. The small zamindars and taluqdars are largely missing from this essay, as they are less prominent in government records. But as rural gentry, they were critical to the functioning of the zamindari system. Bengal’s larger zamindars dominate analysis in this essay. If they held their assignment in hereditary appointment as usual, they had immense powers of discretion and patronage at their disposal. Whatever the theoretical revenue demand on a village, a cluster of villages, or a larger rental unit, the zamindars and their chief employees usually exercised their discretion to vary the demand as well as the amount collected. They varied the collections based on favouritism, familial relationship, social status, seasonal variation in prices and yields, or other factors. They routinely added temporary demands (abwabs) in the event of unpaid zamindari debts, of a poor harvest or low produce prices, or of a life-cycle ceremony such as a wedding or a death in the raj family. Abwabs were ubiquitous and they perplexed almost every Company analyst who tried to figure out what rents were actually owed and paid. Company servants investigating revenue collections found dozens of abwabs in the pattas (statement of rental obligation) given to rent-payers by zamindari amla. It seemed that the inclusion of multiple, variable abwabs were a re-assertion of the right of rajas to limitless discretion and independence from the authority of Murshidabad and Calcutta. Abwabs functioned to emphasize the discretionary nature of the zamindar’s authority and to confuse government efforts to understand the rental system. When a renter failed to meet the annual demand, including the variable abwabs, a zamindar could have the defaulter beaten, incarcerated, dispossessed, or forced into negotiation with a moneylender. But this discretion had little value unless it was channelled by logic and custom. The zamindar or zamindari officer who exercised this broad discretion in ways that seemed un-customarily arbitrary and unfair would be in danger of alienating his dependents and

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driving them to seek other masters or other domains in which to live. This danger was real in a province with ample uncultivated land. From the available eighteenth-century evidence, it was rarely possible to determine whether decisions about rental levels or other vital matters were made by a raja, a widowed rani, the zamindari diwan, or an intermediary. Zamindari servants were crucial to an estate’s survival. Zamindari amla assessed the revenue capacity of villages, maintained the records of the assessments and collections, and carried out the zamindar’s or diwan’s instructions. A small zamindari might consist of a handful of villages and employ few amla. The richest zamindari, by contrast, was Burdwan, and by the start of British rule it consisted of almost nine thousand villages that stretched to five thousand square miles, about half the size of the US state of Connecticut. Collecting rents in an estate of thousands of villages required thousands of employees. In a large zamindari such as Burdwan, the raja had a virtual army of employees. In Burdwan and elsewhere, most villages had a head raiyat and a patwari (record-keeper) on the estate payroll. They also had paiks (guards and watchmen) who helped collect and escort the rents to the kachari (rent-collecting office). In addition, peons (common village servants) assisted in more menial tasks. There were almost 20,000 of these village-level servants (patwaris, paiks, peons, etc.) employed by the Burdwan zamindari in 1761. They were paid through the assignment of 156,906 bighas (roughly 52,302 acres) of chakaran or service land held rent-free. In addition, another 2,683 men served as guards and custom collectors on the high roads and as employees in the major kacharies. Another 4,793 were guards at the forts and frontier passes of the estate. And, finally there were 4,710 huzuri (ruler’s) servants and mutasaddis (clerks and accountants) serving the raja and his relatives at the estate’s headquarters. With these more than 32,000 employees scattered throughout the zamindari, the raja of Burdwan had an immense source of potential information and support. In Burdwan, keeping offices hereditary within families helped sustain the loyalty and respect of those dependents. It was a central element of successful estate management.45 While the number of Burdwan’s employees was vast, the numbers swelled during three major invasions of Bengal. Burdwan expanded



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the militia at the time of Shova Singh’s incursion from the Midnapur region (1696–7), at the time of the Maratha raids (1742–51), and during the invasions of Ali Gauhar, the Mughal prince who fled to Bihar after Ahmad Abdali and the Afghans sacked Delhi in 1757. In 1760, Burdwan, Bishnupur, and Birbhum allied with Ali Gauhar against nawab Mir Jafar. For this, Burdwan recruited 15,000 men and the Birbhum raja added 5,000 cavalry and 20,000 infantry.46 Aided by these vast resources of patronage and revenue, the larger zamindars maintained continuity with the pre-conquest past. They lived in grand palaces surrounded by high walls, water tanks, guards, and armaments. From these imposing headquarters, the Hindu zamindars preserved familiar forms of Sanskritic culture and Hindu kingship through more than two centuries of dominance, first by non-Bengali Muslims and then the British. The rajas’ generosity was directed towards expressions of Hindu piety and maintenance of the social hierarchy based on the opposition of purity and impurity and of self-control and self-indulgence. Hindu rajas lavishly celebrated the festivals to Kali, Durga, Shiva, Krishna and other deities who offered connection with the divine. They built the brick temples distinctive to Bengal. The ek-chala or do-chala mandirs were shaped like the thatched huts with downward curved rooves, in which common villagers lived, as if to emphasize the closeness of the deity to the people. Mandirs were decorated with terracotta bas-reliefs that depicted religious and secular scenes from the epics, including marching and fighting warriors, perhaps to encourage zamindari subjects to identify their rajas with the heroes of the epics. Many raj families are remembered today for the examples of pious building. The Bishnupur and Nadia raj families and Rani Bhavani of Nator (Rajshahi) (1716–95) are especially famous for the temples they constructed. Rani Bhavani built a Durga temple in Varanasi, restored the Bhavanipur temple in Bogra district, constructed rest houses and water tanks along major roads. She was unmatched in her reputation for philanthropy. In the second half the eighteenth century, the rajas of Burdwan, Dinajpur, Nadia, and Nator, all patronized the Sakta worship of Durga and Kali and they also ‘dabbled in the composition of Sakta lyrics.’47 Zamindars granted rent-free land to individuals noted for their learning or piety or Brahmin status. Labelled ‘alienation of land’ in Company literature, revenue-free land

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grants acted as a serious diversion from government revenue. But they added to the zamindars’ reputation for piety and generosity. Both Hindu and Muslim zamindars supported holy places and charities in both communities. Evidence of communal harmony seems far more common than of communal antagonism in eighteenth-century Bengal. Zamindars commonly advanced loans to peasants before planting, they granted long-term and gradually increasing leases to induce new peasants to settle on and clear unoccupied land, and they repaired the riverbanks to protect peasant fields from floods. They also fed the poor. In short, they were true rajas conforming to conventional expectations held by peasant communities of Hindu kingship. Through all these beneficial activities, the rajas sought respect or at least acceptance from their subjects. If the huge costs of building numerous temples or exempting pious figures from rent caused resentment, such sentiment rarely survived in the public records. Zamindari patronage activities may also have masked from peasants the foreign character of Bengal’s central government. Within a zamindar’s domain, the main evidence that zamindars worked for a foreign regime were confined to the towns where zamindars lived. In such towns, dress, food, architecture and some ritual often contained Mughal elements. Outside those towns, there were few signs of the foreignness of Bengal regimes. From the perspective of most raiyats, it is likely the personnel, temple architecture, and idioms of zamindari dominance were overwhelmingly Bengali and Hindu, apart from the use of Persian in record keeping and the use of khilats in the annual zamindari puniya. Probably zamindars identified strongly with their Bengali-speaking village communities when they pleaded with their non-Bengali rulers to moderate the land revenue demands after floods, drought, war, or peasant resistance disrupted the collections. The Burdwan zamindari used both violent and non-violent measures to incorporate multiple new areas into their expanding kingdom. Kirtichandra and his managers obtained most of his new eastern parganas, the ones close to the Bhagirathi, through peaceful means. Probably he and the bankers offering security took over neighbouring estates that fell into arrears or that lacked an adult heir. The land near the Bhagirathi was valuable territory. Its



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dense population, rich alluvial soil, and available water resources rendered it highly rentable. The flat, well-watered eastern terrain produced crops of rice, sugar, cotton, and silk although flooding was common. The eastern villages and towns also were home to educated families whose members were hired into service by Burdwan, other zamindaris, and European commercial companies. Scores of tutors and schools teaching Sanskrit and Arabic/Persian lined the banks of the Bhagirathi. Talented graduates of these institutions were recruited as Brahmin priests and imams, as well as administrators for Mughal, European, and zamindari service. Knowledge of Persian was especially valued among the bilingual families along the Bhagirathi corridor stretching from Murshidabad down to Calcutta. Bengali girls recited the following well-known verse as they drew the outlines of a mirror on the floor of their huts: Arshi, arshi, arshi, Amar Shyami paruk Farsi. [Mirror, mirror, mirror, Let my husband learn Persian]48

While Burdwan’s annexations along the Bhagirathi were mostly peaceful, it used military force to seize territories to the south-east, south, and west of Burdwan town. In 1702–3, a large Mughal army helped the Burdwan militia take territory in Chitwa, Barda, and Chandrakona parganas in the Midnapur area formerly held by Shova Singh. In 1718, Kirtichandra seized part of the ancient and powerful Bishnupur zamindari estate when he occupied a further part of Chandrakona and Bagri (modern Garhbeta) in Midnapur, in addition to Raipur in modern Birbhum district. This seizure of territory from Bishnupur was his most famous conquest. He left the core of the Bishnupur estate intact. Kirtichandra appointed one Dasu Nayaka as shiqdar (revenue collector) of part of the newly seized areas. In 1735–6, Dasu rebelled and refused to pay his revenue to Kirtichandra. Kirtichandra sent his diwan, Manikchandra, to punish Dasu. The diwan brought Dasu’s head back to Burdwan town. One year later, Kirtichandra attempted to soften the impression of oppressive behaviour. He appointed Dasu’s two surviving sons as dependent

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jagirdars of Bagri and took them on a pilgrimage to the Jagannath temple in Puri. Around 1740, Raja Chitrasen (1740–4), or possibly his father, seized Gopbhum and Shergarh on the far western frontier. This area had been fought over by Birbhum, Bishnupur, and Pachet. The territorial addition that meant most to the domestic life of the Burdwan raj family was the town of Ambika Kalna, often referred to simply as Kalna. On the Bhagirathi River, Kalna was the chief trading depot of the Burdwan area. It was 35 miles or so east of Burdwan town. It had been a military base with a fort and mosques for the pre-Mughal Muslim rulers of Bengal. Kirtichandra continued to use Burdwan as the administrative and military centre of the zamindari, but Kalna became the centre of the family’s devotional life. Kirtichandra built ‘a rest house, an elephant shed, two Shiva temples, and a tank’ every eight miles along the Burdwan-Kalna road.49 Kirtichandra also seems to be the person who shifted from Dainhat to Kalna the practice of constructing small buildings for the bones, clothing, personal possessions, and even an elephant that had belonged to deceased rajas and ranis. The clothes were changed three times a day and meals were offered, as if the deceased were still alive. The meals were later served to the poor as if they were prasad (consecrated food). This custom appears to be an attempt at deification, but it seems not to have attained lasting popularity outside the family.50 Kalna in the eighteenth and nineteenth century was a favourite retreat for women in the polygamous Burdwan raj family. Zamindars who took multiple wives often complicated family politics in dangerous ways. Some wives, aunts, and grandmothers in the Kapur family may have preferred Kalna to sharing the Burdwan rajbari with the raja’s favourite companion. And as religious observances were the special domain of females in the family, Kalna afforded immediate access to bathing in the Bhagirathi and a history connected to Chaitanya. Chaitanya is associated with town’s holiness: he is believed to have visited Kalna from his home in sacred Nabadwip on the opposite side of the Bhagirathi in the early 1500s, before he proceeded to Puri. Kirtichandra built the first of a number of major family temples near the Kalna rajbari in 1739. This was the Lalji (Krishna) mandir



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constructed for his mother, Brajakishori Devi. It was the first of the rare Lalji panchabinsati-ratna temples in Bengal, spectacular today with its three tiers and twenty-five pinnacles. Its terracotta sculptures depict, in addition to stories about Radha and Krishna, hunting scenes and European soldiers carrying rifles with bayonets.51Altogether, the rajbari and multiple temples built by the Burdwan family at Kalna served to place the zamindari prominently on the Bhagirathi just opposite the rival and much older Nadia zamindars. To conclude about the rapid growth of Burdwan, it seems that Kirtichandra, like other eighteenth-century zamindars, aspired to appear as a dharma-raja or chakravartin. He donated rent-free land grants to Brahmins. He built new temples, restored old ones, and endowed the rituals performed in the temples. He appointed the offspring of displaced chiefs to feudatory positions, gifted khilats (robes) from his wardrobe and animals from his stables to the new feudatories. In the case of the sons of the beheaded Dasu Nayaka, it was seen that he even took his recently acquired dependents on a pilgrimage to Puri. Clearly, Kirtichandra wanted to reassure his new subjects of his benign-ness by shifting his policies from aggression to patrician rule, from warfare to patronizing the devas and devis to whom his subjects looked for protection. This helps explain the family’s staying power and the stability of Burdwan’s boundaries in the following decades. And it mirrors how other major zamindars, including maharaja Krishnachandra and rani Bhawani, also won respect. Chitrasen succeeded his father as the Burdwan zamindar in 1740 when Kirtichandra died. He was honoured with the title of raja from the Mughal emperor, the first Burdwan chief so recognized. He ascended to the leadership of the huge Burdwan estate near the apex of the influence and reputation of Bengal’s major zamindars. Bengal’s economy was flourishing. Murshid Quli Khan’s son-in-law and successor, Shujauddin (1727–39) had benefitted from a full treasury and a gentler temperament. His reputation as a just ruler soared after he released zamindars confined by Murshid Quli. He treated his officers and the zamindars with greater generosity and friendliness. Towards the end of his reign, though, Shuja lost interest in governing and allowed subordinates to undermine the regime’s predictability and legitimacy.

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Zamindars during the Invasions and Political Revolutions The first of the usurpations of political power to shake Bengal occurred in 1740. Alivardi’s seizure of power shattered most of what was left of Mughal imperial legitimacy. After Nazim Shujauddin died in March 1739, his weak son Sarfaraz (1739–40) succeeded him as nawab. In early 1739, the sack of Delhi had illuminated the collapse of Mughal imperial power and effectiveness. In 1740, the ambitious Alivardi Khan, faujdar of Rajmahal, took advantage of that weakness. He and his followers revolted and assassinated Nizam Sarfaraz, terminating the reign of Murshid Quli’s family. The usurper Alivardi was a Turko-Arab military officer whose father had served Aurangzib’s son and had risen through the ranks in Bengal. Although he was a man of much greater character and forcefulness than the ineffective Sarfaraz, his modest beginnings and act of disloyalty meant he had to struggle to establish his legitimacy as nizam.52 Rastam Jang (also known as Murshid Quli II) led the opposition to Alivardi’s usurpation. Rastam Jang, a close relative of the deceased Safaraz, was serving as naibnizam of Orissa in 1741 when Marathas from Nagpur first invaded. Alivardi twice marched to Orissa with his large Afghan army to quell the supporters of Safaraz. The Burdwan diwan, Manikchandra, with the Burdwan militia accompanied Alivardi’s army into Orissa. This was a sign that the Murshidabad still looked to Burdwan and its able diwan for military assistance. They defeated Rastam Jang and the Marathas in March at Phulwari in Orissa and again in December 1741. By early spring of 1742, Alivardi was back in Murshidabad and seemed to have consolidated his hold over Bengal, Bihar, and Orissa. The peace was only an illusion. In April 1742, another Maratha army, led by Bhaskar Pandit, invaded Bengal itself. Bhaskar Pandit was a general under Raghoji I, the Bhonsle chief of Nagpur. Bhaskar invaded Bengal to collect chauth (literally one quarter of the revenue) that Marathas were demanding as protection money or tribute across India. Bhaskar was accompanied by Rastam Jang and other supporters of Safaraz’s family who hoped to recover Murshidabad. This invasion stunned inhabitants in Bengal and it tested the zamindars’ loyalty to nawab Alivardi. Yusuf Ali wrote that the invasion was ‘a strange incident  .  .  .  which no man had ever imagined in his mind.’53



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Bhaskar Pandit, with perhaps 20,000 bargi (Maratha) cavalry, entered Bengal through Pachet (modern-day Manbhum district) to the west of Burdwan in the spring of 1742. According to J.Z. Holwell, the rajas of Birbhum and Bishnupur both refused Alivardi’s orders to resist the Marathas. James Grant wrote that Raja Badiul Zaman, the raja of Birbhum, treacherously connived with the Maratha invaders.54 Alivardi rushed to Burdwan to join up with Manikchandra and the Burwan militia to head off the Marathas. But Alivardi had already dismissed some of his soldiers after paying off their salary arrears. The Maratha army set fire to Burdwan town, captured much of Alivardi’s equipment, and blocked his food supplies. Alivardi failed to reach an agreement with Bhaskar Pandit about how much chauth Bengal would pay to Raghuji, the Maratha chief at Nagpur. At this point, Alivardi’s desperately hungry men took three days to fight their way to Katwa, 35 miles northeast of Burdwan, where they crossed the Bhagirathi and escaped north to Murshidabad.55 Manikchandra failed to offer meaningful assistance to the Marathas. This was the last time that a Bengal nawab depended on Burdwan, or apparently any other zamindari, for serious military assistance. Manikchandra proved inconstant in both the Orissa and Burdwan phases of Alivardi’s campaigns against the Marathas in 1741 and 1742. In Orissa, Manikchandra had offered to change sides and join Rastam Jang. That offer was rejected as suspicious.56 During Alivardi’s perilous flight from Burdwan to Katwa and then to Murshidabad, Manikchandra deserted the nawab, and in the words of Yusuf Ali, ‘in the manner of a zamindar fled away.’57 Alivardi’s betrayal of Murshid Quli Khan’s dynasty and the repeated Maratha invasions had unsettled Bengal’s Mughal politics. From Alivardi’s time on, internal conflicts spread in Bengal, Bihar, and Orissa. Conventional restraints on political behaviour fell away. One sign of the changed environment was that as political opportunism rose across India, nawabi officials in Bengal began to use assassination to eliminate political opponents. In 1744, two years after the first Maratha invasion of Bengal, Alivardi treacherously massacred twentyone Maratha officers he had invited to a conference.58 His young grandson, Sirajuddaula, carried out murders on Alivardi’s behalf.59 As Nawab, Sirajuddaula himself was executed on the orders of Mir Miran, son of Mir Jafar.60 In 1760, Mir Jafar killed five relatives of Alivardi in addition to ‘about seventy women of inferior note.’61

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The chaos around Delhi and across north and central India attracted predatory adventurers from central Asia. Each betrayal, each civil war, seemed to trigger another raid or incursion. The founder of modern Afghanistan, Ahmad Shah Durrani, first raided north India in 1748 and then six other times leading up to 1767. The Afghan invasions energized ambitions of Afghan settlers across the country. Afghans attempted to seize Bihar in 1748. Alivardi’s Bengal army repulsed them with difficulty. The disorder in Bengal and Bihar inspired Europeans to seek their own advantage in nawabi affairs. The downward spiral of dissension seemed to depress Alivardi’s spirits. Alivardi died in 1756 at the age of 80, after unwisely designating his young grandson, Sirajuddaula, as his successor.62 During Alivardi’s last years, Manikchandra of Burdwan held an elevated place among zamindari diwans at Murshidabad, despite his reputation for unreliability. No doubt this reflected both his ability and the Burdwan zamindari’s importance as a source of state revenue. He was referred to as ‘raja’ in contemporary accounts. He had a substantial house or palace at Murshidabad, from where he presumably settled Burdwan’s revenue accounts with the nizamat. Nawab Alivardi so admired him that on his deathbed, he advised or warned his chosen successor, Sirajuddaula, who had clashed with Manikchandra because Manik’s portico blocked the view from Siraj’s new palace, that ‘I had taken him (Manikchandra) to favour.’63 The Maratha invasions had taken a major toll on Alivardi’s Bengal. After Maratha horsemen almost destroyed Alivardi’s army near Burdwan in his retreat in 1742, the Marathas invaded Bengal five more times in the decade following their initial invasion of Orissa. These later invasions were looting raids rather than occupations. The horsemen, known in Bengal as bargis, pillaged, burned, tortured, and raped and then moved on. The absence of either collective or individual zamindari opposition suggests that the Maratha invasions undermined Bengali confidence in the permanence of Mughal rule. The fading of zamindari support left Nawab Alivardi Khan the burden of chasing the highly mobile bargi bands. The bargis caused widespread destruction and misery, with deep effects on the economy of Bengal. The Maratha invasions severely damaged peasant, zamindari, and handicraft textile incomes, as well as the trade of the European companies.



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Both the anecdotal and statistical evidence shows massive suffering and destruction. The poet Gangaram wrote the most detailed account of the effects of bargi raids. He told of mass flight by people from ‘all thirty-six varnas,’ occupations, and ethnic groups; ‘suddenly the Bargis swept down with a great shout and surrounded the people in the fields.  .  .  . They cut off the hands of some, and the noses and ears of others.  .  .  . When one had finished with a woman, another took her.  .  .  .’64 Ghulam Husain Salim and J.Z. Holwell confirmed that the bargis cut off hands, ears, and noses, among other atrocities.65 That the bargis created a lasting popular memory is shown in the ubiquitousness of the Bengali lullaby used to quiet a crying child and heard even today: chhele ghumalo, pada judalo/ bargi elo deshe [When the children fell asleep, silence set in, the Maratha cavalry attacked our country.]66

Huge numbers of peasants, weavers, and rent-receivers deserted their villages and took refuge on the east side of the Bhagirathi. The mother of the raja Burdwan also moved across the Bhagirathi and rented a new residence at Mulajor from the Nadia zamindari. The maharaja of Nadia himself vacated his palace at Krishnagar in favour of a safer location away from the Bhagirathi. The desolation and the flight of revenue-payers eroded Alivardi’s treasury. Repeatedly his soldiers balked at fighting until they received their arrears in pay. When they did fight, they sometimes looted Bengali villages, thereby aggravating the revenue deficit. Alivardi tried to make up the shortfall in revenues by harassing the zamindars distant from the most affected districts, including Dinajpur, Nadia, and Nator (Rajshahi). Alivardi imprisoned Maharaja Krishnachandra when he failed to meet Alivardi’s demands.67 Various indicators demonstrated how the invasions crippled Bengal’s economy in the short run, especially in the areas west of the Bhagirathi. The head merchant at the Dutch factory in Bengal guessed that ‘close to 400,000 people were killed in Bengal and Bihar’ during the Maratha invasions.68 If 350,000 of those deaths were in Bengal and if Bengal’s population had been 24 million or so at the start, that

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would suggest 14 out of every 1,000 people died.69 The Maratha raids led workers to migrate eastwards and also caused heavy mortality in the districts of south-west Bengal. These produced labour shortages, especially in Burdwan, Midnapore, and the 24 Parganas.70 Did the Maratha raids damage Bengal’s economy as much as the East India Company’s bribe-taking and extractive policies did after 1757? Alivardi’s revenue collections declined by over half initially and then by more as the raids continued. The price of rice rose dramatically, in places by more than 100 per cent above the average price of the previous thirty years, making it difficult for the landless and non-agricultural population.71 Kirti Chaudhuri wrote that ‘the Maratha invasions and Alivardi’s pressing financial needs began to push the economy towards the brink of a general collapse.’72 Others, including N.K. Sinha and Tapan Raychaudhuri, have argued plausibly that that the economy did recover after the relatively brief Maratha invasions and that ‘the real decline in Bengal’s economy was largely a post-Plassey and even post-1813 phenomenon.’73 Many others agree that decades of Company rule damaged Bengal’s economy more than the short period of Maratha invasions.74 In trying to assess how much economic damage the Marathas caused, it is relevant that the years of the Maratha invasions seemed to coincide with the peak of zamindari patronage and temple-building in west and central Bengal. Perhaps zamindars had exaggerated the depletion of their resources; perhaps the general misery moved rajas to open their treasuries. Rani Bhawani (1716–95) was de facto zamindar of Rajshahi/Nator for four decades after her ineffective husband, Ramkanta Roy, died in 1747. Her diwan, Daya Ram, was loyal and effective. Her reputation for charitable giving and construction in her later decades was legendary. She was said to have built 380 shrines, rest houses, schools, etc. She gave rent-free brahmottar land to thousands of Brahmins. She provided medical care to poor people and animals.75 Maharaja Krishnachandra of Nadia (1710–83) also lavishly patronized Brahmins and built major temples but he may be best known today for having made Bharatchandra Ray (1712–60) his court poet. Bharatchandra’s father was an affluent taluqdar until expelled from his lease for arrears by the Burdwan zamindar. Bharatchandra finished Annadamangal in 1752.76 Krishnachandra also patronized the great Sakta poet, Ramprasad Sen. Many of the large temples in



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the Burdwan zamindari were built in the 1750s. From these examples, it appears that in the years following the Maratha invasions, the major zamindaris still had access to substantial savings or loans. It may be that the treasuries of Alivardi and Sirajuddaula were closer to empty. It is possible that Alivardi’s and Siraj’s harsh treatment of the zamindars damaged nawabi collections. However, the evidence does not point to a clear conclusion. The Maratha raids ended in 1751; Alivardi paid heavily to stop the raids. He ceded Orissa to the Marathas and he agreed to pay them annual chauth of Rs.1,200,000. In 1752, the rains failed and food was scarce. Alivardi lived until 1756 and these last years were relatively peaceful as the economy of west Bengal gradually recovered from the raids. But Alivardi’s legitimacy, already in question because of his usurpation of power, was tarnished further by the need to press on the zamindars to replenish his treasury. Peter Marshall cited a Company source as saying that Burdwan was forced to pay Rs.10,000,000 although Burdwan seemed to recover quickly in the 1750s. Marshall wrote that ‘The fabric of acquiescence on which the Nawab’s government rested was severely stretched’ although Alivardi’s reign continued.77 Alivardi’s judgment failed him in his old age. He designated his grandson, Sirajuddaula (aged 23), as his successor, despite his youth and debilitating flaws of temperament. Alivardi died in April 1756. In contrast to his grandfather, Siraj looked upon the British with contempt born of fatal ignorance, estimating often that there were scarcely ten thousand men in the whole of ‘Ferengistan’ (i.e. Europe). M. Jean Law wrote that Siraj claimed that ‘all that is needed to govern’ the Europeans was ‘a pair of slippers.’78 Within months of taking office in April 1756, Siraj’s erratic, arrogant, and sexually predatory behaviour began to alienate the very people, including the zamindars, whose support he needed. Siraj seemed unbalanced. He not only made the fatal act of seizing Calcutta in 1756, he allegedly dispatched agents to kidnap pretty females bathing in the river and he had passenger boats overturned because he enjoyed watching the struggle of passengers who did not know how to swim.79 As members of the ruling circle turned against Siraj in 1756 and 1757, revolution began to seem inevitable. Among the powerful people who joined the growing cabal of opponents were his cousin,

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Shaukat Ali, who claimed the nawab-ship for himself; Siraj’s aunt, Ghaseti Begum, (Alivardi’s eldest daughter); his pay master and key general, Mir Jafar (the Arab husband of Alivardi’s half-sister); his bankers, the Jagat Seths (whom he was pressing to pay his army); and his diwan and military commander, Rai Durlabh (formerly a major zamindar from the Dhaka region). Rai Durlabh was central to Siraj’s decision to attack Calcutta. Siraj suspected Rai Durlabh of embezzling nawabi funds and taking those funds to Calcutta in search of refuge with the British. This added to Siraj’s fury with the East India Company and providing him with one of the pretexts for his attack on Fort William in June 1756. Rai Durlabh was believed soon after to have begun encouraging major zamindars to combine against Siraj. When Clive replaced Siraj with Mir Jafar in a nawabi palace on 29 June 1757, ‘the great zamindars’ were present80 and undoubtedly pleased. Militarily, it seems clear that the zamindars were nothing more than passive participants in the revolution of 1757. This is significant in view of the myth that spread in the nineteenth and twentieth century that maharaja Krishnachandra of Nadia was an active participant in the conspiracy against Siraj. Joel Bordeaux’s comprehensive study of Krishnachandra’s life states that, other than a verbal complaint against Siraj delivered to the British, the first evidence ‘to implicate Raja Krishnacandra in the conspiracy’ did not appear until many decades later. In 1805, a descendent of the Nadia raja presented the conspiracy as an effort by Hindus to free Bengal from Muslim rule. Bordeaux considers this 1805 biographical myth as ‘a seminal moment in the pre-history of Hindu-ness’ or the Hindutva movement. The author actually used the word ‘Hindutva’, possibly the first time the term was used.81 The zamindars may not have given military assistance to the Mughal government of Bengal. But that does not mean that Alivardi’s overthrow of his predecessor and his failure to keep the Marathas out of Bengal did not affect zamindari loyalties and identities. Maratha atrocities against Hindus in Bengal prevented people from viewing the invaders as Hindu liberators although Bharatchandra did present the bargis as agents of Shiva. Yet Bharatachandra offers important clues into a possible shift in consciousness among zamindars about the character of Hinduism and its relations with Islam. In his Annadamangal, finished in 1751–2, Bharatchandra has



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Bhavananda, an earlier raja of Krishnagar, debate with the Mughal emperor Jahangir. Bhavananda countered Jahangir’s verbal attacks on Hinduism by arguing that Muslims and Hindus worshiped the same Lord or Isvar, not separate deities. Moreover, this deity was ‘the “Formless Lord” (nirakar isvar)’, not an idol. Rhetorically, as David Curley argued, Bharatchandra was presenting Hinduism as both more inclusive than Islam and also ‘prior’ to Islam. Bharatchandra presumably reflected the views of his patron, Krishnachandra, and perhaps of many other Hindu thinkers.82 In Company records and Persian accounts, there seems to be no evidence that zamindars helped defend Calcutta from Siraj’s attack in June 1756 or helped the British re-conquer Calcutta and then finally defeat Siraj at Plassey in June 1757. This is notable in view of the negative experiences the Burdwan and Nadia zamindaris had with Murshidabad in recent years. The Burdwan raja, Tilakchandra, for example, wrote to the Company in 1757, on the eve of Plassey, ‘By the rapaciousness of the [nawabi] government nothing is left to me. These three years I have no power left me in my country, and my own servants refused to obey me.’83 While the raja’s militia violently resisted the Company, the raja himself only contemplated it. The rajas of Burdwan and Nadia occupied the strategically vital sides of the Bhagirathi/Hughli River corridor. In 1756 and 1757, the Company and the nawab used the corridor for major military movements and battles, from Fulta in the south up to Calcutta, Hugli, Chandannagar, Plassey, and Qazimbazar. Siraj ordered zamindars along the corridor not to aid the British and there seems to be no evidence that they disobeyed. It is evident that neither the anti-Siraj conspirators in Murshidabad nor the East India Company made a concerted effort to involve zamindars in the overthrow of Siraj. Perhaps this was because zamindari militias had failed to fight effectively against the Maratha invasions in the previous decade and thus were no longer trusted. Zamindari militias had atrophied in the previous decades and most of them seemed militarily irrelevant. In 1760, Bengal came close to insurrection, as its society fractured, as the East India Company struggled to establish control. Zamindars in the south-west were severely alienated by incessant demands for revenue in a period when their collections were disrupted by invasions by the Maratha and the Shahzada, the Mughal crown

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prince. Twice the Burdwan militia engaged in bloody clashes with the Company army. The trouble in Burdwan had begun in 1758 when Robert Clive required Mir Jafar to turn over revenue collections in Burdwan, Nadia, and Hughli to the Company to pay off huge nawabi debts. This transfer provoked deep unrest. In Burdwan by 1769, Nandakumar’s efforts to collect the revenues for the Company turned the Burdwan employees into ‘implacable enemies’ of the British, according to governor Holwell. 84 Burdwan fell behind one year’s amount in paying its own soldiers, and its soldiers became dangerously unruly. Zamindars in western Bengal discussed forming a military coalition against nawab Mir Jafar as signs of crisis multiplied. Nawabi administration severely stressed zamindars and their managers when they raised the revenue demand on Bengal 40% between 1756 and 1763.85 Murshidabad itself was in chaos in 1760 as the nawab lacked funds to pay his unruly troops and faced invasions from the west and the south. The major threat to Mir Jafar was the invasion of Bengal by the Mughal crown prince, Shahzada Ali Gauhar (the future Emperor Shah Alam II). He had escaped to Bihar from Delhi at the time of the Afghan occupation under Ahmad Shah Abdali. Ali Gauhar entered western Bengal with 30,000 troops and proceeded from Deogarh to Bishnupur en route to conquer Bengal and punish Nawab Mir Jafar for non-payment of his revenue to the imperial Mughal government. As he proceeded, Ali Gauhar was welcomed by Kangar Khan, the uncle of the raja of Birbhum. Kangar Khan reported that the Birbhum raja was preparing to attack Murshidabad. The rajas of Birbhum, Bishnupur, and Burdwan, smarting under Mir Jafar’s financial pressure, all agreed to join a small French contingent and a Maratha army of 5,000–6,000 horse coming from Orissa in the planned attack on Mir Jafar. But the support from the zamindars never materialized. When the Company agreed to defend Mir Jafar, the rajas’ chances of victory dissolved. The formidable Company army joined Mir Jafar’s soldiers to defeat the Shahzada and the Marathas in a skirmish at Mangalkot, twenty miles north of Burdwan town on 4 April 1760. That forced the Shahzada to retreat to Bihar.86 His withdrawal did not end the crisis in Murshidabad or in the Burdwan zamindari. In Burdwan, Raja Tilakchandra complained that the invasions by the Marathas and the Shahzada had ruined



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his collections and the spring planting. Hugh Watts, in charge of a Company army contingent in Burdwan, reported that 5,000 of the raja’s unpaid troops were threatening to seize Burdwan’s revenue payments and were endangering both the raja’s amla and the Company sepoys. In July 1760, the raja’s mutinous soldiers fired on the Company sepoys, killing 44 and wounding 57, as well as their English officer. (The number of Company fatalities in the battle of Plassey in 1757 had been only 57.) Watts did not hold the raja responsible.87 The Shahzada’s final invasion was in late 1760. It again raised the hopes of the rajas of Birbhum and Burdwan and others for freedom from Company and nawabi oppression. The new situation in Burdwan stemmed from regime change in Murshidabad. The new nawab, Mir Qasim, agreed in September 1760 to cede Burdwan, Midnapore, and Chittagong to the Company in return for British help in replacing his father-in-law, Mir Jafar, as nawab. Burdwan objected violently to this transfer. Burdwan halted revenue collections and recruited some 15,000 men to resist the cession. Burdwan joined Birbhum in sending 10,000 soldiers to block the Company’s army assisting Nawab Mir Qasim. In a battle on 29 December 1760, the Company army under Major Martin White routed the Burdwan and allied forces, killing 500 and wounding 1,000. The battle ended any real possibility that zamindars would combine militarily against either the Nawab or the Company.88 By March 1761, the victorious Company army had restored peace to western Bengal, forced the Shahzada back into Bihar, and pushed the Marathas to the south. The Company began to administer the ceded lands, a substantial part of Bengal. Mir Qasim, though, soon regretted the rising demands from the Company. Defiantly, he moved Bengal’s capital to Monghyr in Bihar, out of the reach of British gunboats, in an effort to resist the humiliating demands of the British for duty-free trade in salt, tobacco and other items. Mir Qasim was moving towards a showdown with the Company.89 The three areas ceded to the Company failed to generate the revenue expected by the British. Fighting erupted in 1763 between Mir Qasim and the Company. It ended in October 1764 at Buxar with a decisive and historic British victory. The Company deposed Mir Qasim, brought Mir Jafar back into office, and returned the capital to Murshidabad. It now enjoyed supreme power in Bengal.

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The weakly disguised fiction of nawabi rule continued. Mir Jafar died in 1765 and the Company installed Muhammad Reza Khan as naib-subahdar to run the government for Mir Jafar’s young successor under the close supervision of Company residents. In August 1765, the Mughal Emperor Shah Alam formally transferred the office of Diwani for Bengal, Bihar, and Orissa to the Company. This grant of the Diwani meant that the Company was now the actual ruler of Bengal; it formalized the transfer of financial and military power that had recently occurred. It expanded British expectations for trading profits and tribute payments to the UK. But Clive and his Council imagined that the nawabi officers whose appointments they approved would carry out the actual administrative work, including collecting the land revenue from the zamindars. Thus, the Bengali population continued for the most part to deal with Indian officials, not directly with the Company servants, in land revenue matters and trade in piece goods, salt, indigo, sugar and rice. The Company did not send British Supervisors to the district headquarters until 1770. Even the Company servants’ participation in private trading was done largely through their Indian agents. These gomashtas, acting uninhibitedly with the knowledge of the Company’s new power behind them, were notorious for coercing sales at below-market prices, setting up monopolies, and other abuses that caused economic hardships for the dependents of the zamindars. Private trade not only diverted profits from the Company. It also reduced the cash margins available to zamindars and Indian merchants.90 By 1768, it had become evident to Company officials that despite the success of the nawabi ministers at Murshidabad in keeping up the land revenue collections, the Company’s need for revenue greatly exceeded what was collected. Bengal’s revenue simply did not cover the costs of Company trade and military expenses. The costs of repelling the invasions of Bihar by the Shahzada (soon to be Emperor Shah Alam) in 1759 and of Hyder Ali of Mysore in 1767 in south India had been significant.

Zamindars and the Bengal Famine The string of major misfortunes did not stop with the assertion of Company control over Bengal. The Great Bengal Famine of 1770 was



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among the most devastating events in Bengal’s history. British officials estimated that between one-sixth and one-third of the population perished, with a preponderance of recent guesses favouring onethird. If the population had been thirty million, a mortality rate of one-third would have meant that ten million had died. William Wilson Hunter published a vivid account about the famine in 1868, based on his reading of official records.91 His account may be more responsible than any other for the current view that the Company government measures to prevent suffering and death were pathetically inadequate. Hunter followed Warren Hastings’ conclusion that one-third of the population died of starvation and disease, and one-third of the arable land became waste. He also concluded that the bargaining power of the superior cultivators had greatly increased when zamindars found that many cultivators had died or migrated.92 It is important to remember that in the later decades of the eighteenth century, the upper peasantry seemed to gain at the expense of larger zamindars. Almost no direct evidence—other than failures to collect the full revenue—survives about how zamindaris experienced the famine. Yet eye witness accounts and later discussions allow one to imagine what zamindars and their subjects experienced. The overwhelming majority of fatalities occurred among the less affluent subjects of the zamindars, and those deaths meant that the zamindars were likely to have realized they had failed to meet their dharmic obligations to protect their dependents from human and natural dangers. The deaths also shrank the zamindars’ incomes and undermined the security of their land holdings. The summer rains of 1769 failed over eastern, north-western, and central Bengal, shrinking the aman rice harvest of November, December, and January to almost nothing. The aman crop normally produced about 70 per cent of Bengal’s rice. The monsoon rains of June 1770 were good, but the devastation was far advanced by then. It was not until the harvest of the aus crop of September 1770 that rice again began to reach the market. Among the vulnerable were the landless labourers such as agricultural workers and peons, the fishermen, the artisan workers, including the weavers and thread-winders, the growers of non-food crops, including the cotton- and silk-growers. One may assume that

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zamindars, merchants, and others immediately recognized that the high mortality in the weaving community meant the loss of income and hard-to-replace skilled labour. And the death or flight of landless labourers would inhibit the land-holding tenants from producing harvests needed by intermediate revenue collectors and zamindars to meet their revenue obligations. Most of the eyewitness accounts of famine suffering came from European observers in the larger towns, especially Murshidabad and Calcutta, and not from rural areas. Famine victims from the mofussil flocked to the cities, hoping to be fed by Indian merchants and affluent Europeans. But the sounds and sights recorded in the cities must have been similar in the zamindari headquarters and market towns. The observations have been quoted in many accounts so that there is little point in repeating them at length. Ironically, a number of shocking accounts of the famine are about eating. Mothers ate their dead infants. Children ate their dead mothers. Also, Europeans ate mutton but not fish, pigs, ducks, or geese because they had fed on the corpses. So had dogs, vultures, and jackals.93 Indian merchants and zamindars and Europeans gave food to the masses of desperate people who pushed into urban areas where the affluent lived. Hunter believed that ‘Native grandees’ did their duty as far as their means allowed. The Company distributed small amounts of food, issued orders banning hoarding, and imposed an embargo on the export of grain from Bengal. However, Hunter was sarcastic about the inadequacy of Company relief. He calculated that the total Company expenditure on food imports and charity was 9,000 pounds. Bengal’s revenue demand for 1770 was 1,380,269 pounds.94 The Court of Directors believed that ‘the ryots were compelled to sell their rice to those monopolizing Europeans’ who bought 120–40 seers of rice for one rupee and then sold 15 seers to ‘the Black Merchants’ for one rupee.95 The Birbhum zamindari suffered the greatest damage. In Birbhum as elsewhere, the Company reduced the demand by a mere 5 per cent for the first year, but raised it by 10 per cent the next year. Birbhum revenue farmers arrested for arrears in 1772 were still in jail in Calcutta in 1789.96 Broad areas of Birbhum were depopulated. Villages with survivors were isolated by jungle and forest, and thus were vulnerable to attacks by tigers, elephants, and bears.



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The villages were also raided and pillaged by bands of up to 50,000 people, containing hereditary dacoits, unemployed soldiers, hungry peasants, and religious pilgrims who had been accustomed to being fed by villagers on their annual pilgrimages. In 1772, the bands moved down into the plains of lower Bengal in search of food and loot. In 1773, the Company sent four battalions, supplemented by zamindari militias, to suppress these plundering bands. The Company expedition failed. Warren Hastings ordered that convicted dacoits be executed, their families enslaved, and all their fellow villagers be fined. In their annual raids, the dacoit bands set fire to villages to create a cover for their banditry. In March 1780, they even set fires in Calcutta that destroyed 15,000 houses and killed almost 200 people.97 The other most severely affected areas were in northern Bengal, including Jahangirpur (Dinajpur district), Purnia and Rangpur, judging from the amount of deserted assessed land in a survey by the Amini Commission published in 1778. G. Ducarel, Supervisor of Purnia, estimated ‘nearly half ’ the residents of Purnia had died. Richard Becher, Resident at Murshidabad, thought six out of every sixteen inhabitants of the neighbouring districts had perished ‘within these four months.’98 The least affected areas were in eastern and south-western Bengal, including eastern Midnapur and the south-eastern parts of the Burdwan zamindari. The Amini Commission found virtually no abandoned arable land in the giant districts of Dacca and Rajshahi. Areas with moderate amounts of plateka (deserted land, the revenue demand of which equalled between 10 and 20 per cent of the jama) included Nadia, Mahomedshahi, and Jessore.99 The famine compounded rather than created an economic crisis. Before the famine, we have seen, Company officials had realized that their revenues were inadequate to pay for the investment and the military budget. Revenue was insufficient because of the decline in the import of specie, the shrinking of Bengal’s internal trade, the cost of military campaigns in south India, and the administrative costs of taking over the government of Bengal after the transfer of the Diwani to the Company in 1765. Of course, the administrative disruption caused by political chaos afforded new opportunities for corruption. Even before the famine, Company officials had concluded, as Governor Harry Verelst (1767–9) put it, ‘since the accession to

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the Dewanee the condition of the people had declined.’100 The crisis impelled the Company to search for reforms in the system of land tax collection. No other economic domain offered the same possibilities of stimulating revenue.

The Search for a Stable Settlement Governor Warren Hastings was the individual charged with the monumental task of overhauling the land revenue settlement. Hastings was the obvious choice. He had served at Qasimbazar and Murshidabad from 1752 until his capture by Sirajuddaula during the seizure of Calcutta in 1756. In 1758, he took up the position of Resident at Murshidabad. Just before the Mughal Emperor assigned the office of Diwani to the Company in 1765, Hastings returned to England. He stayed in England until 1769 when he was assigned to Madras. He came back to Bengal as Governor of Calcutta in 1771. Hastings was uniquely knowledgeable about nawabi personnel and policy, as well as a believer that effective rule over an alien people required thorough understanding of their scriptures, laws, and social customs. Hastings and his colleagues thought that the agency of Indian officials should be curtailed, because of their alleged corruption. Hastings dismissed Muhammad Reza Khan from his post as naib nawab at Murshidabad and transferred the capital to Calcutta. And Hastings and his colleagues assumed that by making long-term (five-year) settlements with landholders, they would encourage investments leading to stable and rising land revenues. They assumed that five-year settlements with ijaradars would bring greater stability than the nawabi practice of entering into a fresh revenue agreement at the annual puniya.101 Therefore, in 1772, Hastings sent British supervisors, now to be called Collectors, to open bidding for the five-year land revenue contracts. He imagined that this capitalist competition would tend to reveal the real value of rural rents. The winning bids, he hoped, would come from the hereditary zamindars, or if not, from local people connected to the land. And the ijaradars were required to issue pattas (deeds) to the raiyats so they would be freer from the numerous, oppressive abwabs (cesses added onto the stated rent). New Company courts would enforce the terms of



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the five-year leases and the pattas, so that all parties would have the security of property and an incentive to industry and development. Farming out the revenues had been common throughout Mughal India and in the areas of Bengal administered by the Company after 1757. What was new in 1771, when the new farming system was initially imposed on Burdwan, and in the rest of Bengal in 1772, was the use of five-year leases in place of the recent one- and three-year ijaras. And the theoretical universality of the competitive principal was also novel. In June 1772, the Committee of Circuit went to Nadia to start the bidding. Raja Krishnachandra of Nadia submitted a written offer in a public auction for the whole district. The Committee rejected his bid on the grounds that he had a ‘subtle and faithless character.’ Instead, they broke up the zamindari into pargana-sized lots and farmed it out to many holders.102 From Nadia, the Committee went to Qasimbazar to settle Rajshahi, still Bengal’s largest zamindari. Rajshahi presented a common problem. Rani Bhawani, like many zamindars, was reluctant to bid at public auction against bidders of inferior social standing. But Company officers had a better impression of Rani Bhawani than of Raja Krishnachandra and they found a way to avoid a public auction. In the eastern sector of the estate, no one bid against the powerful rani. In the west, the rani was persuaded to accept the division of her estate into fourteen under-farms. As a result, the rani agreed to farm the whole zamindari. But she fell into arrears and she lost possession of the estate to another farmer by 1774.103 To bid, or not to bid? That was the zamindar’s dilemma. For zamindars who believed that the bidding process was demeaning, the prospects were not appealing. For zamindars who expected the winning bid might be so high that they would be forced to choose between oppressing the raiyats and forfeiting their reputations as beneficent landlords or going to jail for arrears, it was a daunting decision. The Company actually preferred that zamindars obtain the ijaras. They were considered acceptable to the inhabitants and, with the right managers, most were likely to succeed. Burdwan was a perpetual example of a zamindari that survived under able and not so able rajas, because it had many capable amla. The Company allowed zamindars who did not bid to retain their sir or small home farms. And the Company leased small farms

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to zamindars near the estates’ headquarters. Thus, zamindars were assured of continuing to act at least on a small scale as revenue collectors. More importantly, the Company provided moishara or a maintenance allowance to zamindars whose management was suspended. This made it feasible to contemplate not bidding. It was the moishara that helps explain why in 1772 only one zamindar in Bengal farmed all of his or her estate. Only the Rani of Rajshahi engaged to farm her whole zamindari. In Mughal India, the norm had been to set moishara at 10 per cent of the gross jama.104 The Company fixed the moishara without a fixed formula. The raja of Nadia, the highly respected raja in Bengal, received 20 per cent. The average Bengal and Bihar zamindari moishara was 8 per cent.105 What were the 1772 farming arrangements outside Nadia and Rajshahi? The Company accepted the bids of ‘small taluqdars and large revenue farmers’ in Hughli district. In Birbhum, Bishnupur, and Midnapur, new revenue farmers, not the zamindars, bid successfully. The Bishnupur zamindari had reached a state of near-dysfunctionality by this time. From 1756 or so, two cousins had fought over control of the estate. Raja Damodar Singh had seized the estate with a military force in 1759–60 and the support of Nawab Mir Jafar. But in 1765–6, the Sadr Diwani Adalat had upheld the claim of the rival cousin, Raja Chaitanya Singh, to possess the zamindari through the family’s practice of primogeniture. The Company reversed that decision in 1770–1 and split the estate in half between the cousins. The farmers who took the ijaras in 1772 soon fell into arrears and the rival Bishnupur cousins unwisely took up the leases for the final three years, probably trying to keep the estate out of the other’s control. The rajas’ debts and arrears continued to grow, and Raja Chaitanya was jailed during 1775–6 for his debts. The Bishnupur raj family never recovered economically.106 Burdwan, the richest zamindari, illustrates the complex interplay of different influences in the competitive process of farming. Burdwan, like Bishnupur and most polygamous raj families, was vulnerable to family feuds during the disputes that often broke out at the time of successions, when life cycle issues such as heirs in their minorities, widowed ranis, adoptions, and individual incapacity, might split a family.



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Burdwan was put up to farm in 1771, one year earlier than the rest of Bengal. Probably the death of Tilakchandra, the elderly raja, in May 1770, led to this trial run with revenue farming. The Company often used Burdwan as a laboratory for revenue experiments. The deceased raja left his young son and successor, Tejchandra, and Tej’s windowed mother, Rani Bishnukumari. Neither the young rani nor her son was experienced in revenue matters. In 1771, the Company divided most of the Burdwan zamindari into eighty or so lots and put them out to bids. In this early round of revenue farming, the Company was eager to maintain continuity of management, especially at time of precarious family politics. This probably explains why members of the raj family, mostly the widowed ranis, ended up winning the bids for a significant part of the estate. The widow Bishnukumari, Tikakchandra’s other widows, and widows of Raja Chitrasen (d. 1744) engaged to farm lands with Rs.5.43 lakh jama. The majority of lots were leased to former farmers although a quarter of the lots were taken by Calcutta residents. So, the Company achieved much of the desired continuity in this, their richest estate.107 The largest single Burdwan farmer in 1771 was the well-known Gokhal Ghosal, banian to Harry Verelst (Governor of Bengal, 1767–9). Ghosal’s success in gaining land revenue farms in Burdwan and other Company contracts in items such as salt illustrates the striking elevation of Indian agents and partners of Company servants as the Company imposed its administration over its new territory after acquiring the Diwani in 1765. Ghosal was a Kulin Brahmin from Calcutta who succeeded in the salt trade. Typical of many banians to Company servants, he acquired a fortune while serving the private trading and administrative interests of Europeans and then invested profits into landholding. Later in his life, he was famous for his wealth and generosity; he was said to have fed 1,800 persons each day. Verelst had taken Ghosal with him to Chittagong for five years after it was ceded to the Company in 1760. Both before and after he succeeded Clive as Governor in 1767, Verelst appointed Ghosal to a number of revenue assignments, including settling the revenues of the 24 Parganas. When Verelst was trying to settle Burdwan in 1765, he could find no bidder to take the 1,007 villages of taraf Polospoy, a scattered lot in Burdwan. He persuaded Ghosal to take an unusual permanent lease for Polospoy. In 1768, Governor Verelst

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induced Ghosal to take over two other declining Burdwan parganas, Chandrakona and Burdwan itself. Ghosal’s acceptance of these farms may have allowed him to pursue his extensive trading activities, but he fell into arrears of Rs.7.3 lakh in land revenue. The Company indulged him, no doubt because of his excellent service to the Company and because so many ‘Gentlemen’ owed money to Ghosal. Four years after he died in 1779, 48 Europeans still owed debts to his estate.108 Ghosal’s life showed how service to the new rulers could be leveraged into significant economic mobility. The farming experiment of 1771–2 throughout Bengal failed in the goal of persuading most hereditary zamindars to take ijaras. Those zamindars and new farmers who did take on farming contracts often failed to keep up with their payments for a variety of reasons, including natural disaster, over-bids, and poor management practices. Burdwan, for example, suffered severe flooding in September 1773 in the south-east section of the zamindari. Peasants took refuge on their roofs and in trees; human and animal fatalities were high. The government was forced to advance funds to the farmers to repair broken embankments. By March 1776, as the five-year settlement was due to expire, thirty of Burdwan’s farmers were behind in their payments and ten or more farmers were in jail.109 Farmers in other estates failed in large numbers. Nadia’s farmers were dispossessed for defaulting on revenue payments in 1773. Raja Krishnachandra engaged to take over the farms in the name of his son, Shivachandra. He also failed. When Philip Francis visited the aged raja in 1777, he found Krishnachandra ‘lodged in one corner’ of his ruined palace ‘in a State of Beggary and Misery, not to be believed.’110 The Company chose to lower its demands on the Nadia raj until 1778, rather than dispossess such a reputable family. In Bishnupur, the Company dispossessed defaulting farmers in 1774 and restored the zamindari to the feuding cousin-rajas. Debts increased and family fights continued. Raja Chaitanya spent much of 1775–6 in prison because of his debts. In Rajshahi, Rani Bhawani forfeited her huge zamindari in 1773–4 and it was leased out to another farmer.111 The five-year settlement failed in a second way. It did not enlarge the revenue collections, despite the progressive annual increases in the ijaradars’ contracts. Tenant cultivators resisted the farmers.



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The farmers had overbid. As farmers forfeited the ijaras, their lands were re-sold typically at a lower demand. In those cases, in which the government appointed amils to collect directly from the villages, the results were no better. In the final three years of the five-year settlement, proceeds declined annually. By 1780, the collections had equalled only 88 per cent of the contracted five-year jama.112 The failure of the quinquennial settlement was due in some part to the corruption of East India Company servants. A significant portion of the farmers who won bids had given bribes to Company servants and their banians. They took bribes and presents in return for leasing to particular farmers, overlooking arrears, and setting new leases at favourable rates. The Collectors and other Company servants often leased land to their own banians. The five-year farming experiment discredited such short-term leases. Although debates about how best to maximize the collections continued for many years, a majority of British officials by the late 1770s had concluded that competitive, short-term bids would not secure the revenues and that zamindars and their amla needed to be included in long-term arrangements for the future. As deficient as zamindars might be in character and efficiency, it seemed impossible to imagine a less-flawed agency. It would take another decade to reach a decision, but by the late 1770s, official attitudes were already moving towards a permanent settlement with the zamindars. Zamindars were restored to their estates in the late 1770s throughout Bengal. The major debate had shifted from the agency of collection to the level of the revenue demand. The report of the Amini Commission in 1778 framed the debate between those, like Philip Francis, who thought the revenue demand was too high, and those who believed that the zamindars’ illegal alienations of revenuefree land left substantial amount of land under-taxed. As useful as the Amini Commission was, it failed to settle the issue of over- or under-assessment. James Grant provided evidence that Bengal could afford higher demands while John Shore argued that evidence did not yet exist that would prove the capacity of each zamindari.113 Between the restoration of the zamindars in 1777 and the Decennial Settlement of 1790, government inquiries established that individual zamindars were not informed about how much each village or each raiyat was able to pay. And government officials

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themselves had been frustrated in their efforts to collect reliable data. Without such information, the government could not determine with confidence whether revenues were low because of inadequate output or the obfuscating behaviour of the zamindars, their amla, or the raiyats. During official investigations and debates on these issues, the Company settled with zamindars for terms of one, two, or three years. The results and official interactions with the contractors led Company servants to lose patience with the zamindars once again. John Shore presided over the Supreme Committee in the 1780s and he toughened the government’s treatment of the zamindars. The Company raised Bengal and Bihar’s revenue demand by 9.4 per cent in 1781.114 Bengal’s four largest zamindars (Burdwan, Nadia, Rajshahi, and Dinajpur) fell into arrears and each was replaced with a government sazawal (land steward), a relative, or an ijaradar. Both Dinajpur and Birbhum, despite Company supervision, were virtually destroyed in the disputes occasioned by the absence of adult male heirs and Company pressure for more revenue. Raja Baidhanath of Dinajpur died in 1780 without a son. Rani Saraswati adopted a young son but by 1799 avaricious zamindari amla had bought up almost the whole estate. In the case of Birbhum, Raja Asadul Zaman died in 1778 without a son. Substance addictions, multiple marriages, severe family divisions, and failed Company oversight led to the dissolution of the zamindari by 1801 under ‘the illiterate, drunken raja’ Muhammad Zaman Khan.115 Burdwan, so often the outlier, survived more or less intact. It survived despite a sexual scandal and a highly publicized struggle with the government about its management under the widowed rani, Bishnukumari. The Company’s creeping interference in zamindari affairs led in Burdwan to numerous court cases, violent extraction of rents from cultivators, and government usurpation of the functions formerly exercised independently by the rani and her amla. In 1780, Warren Hastings’ banian, Nabakrishna, was allowed to take over of the management of Burdwan zamindari as sazawal for two years so that he could pay himself back the nine lakhs of rupees he was owed by the rani. The rani attempted to block Nabakrishna’s administration by ordering the zamindari amla and some revenue farmers to leave Burdwan town. The rani also refused to turn over the zamindari seals used to authenticate zamindari orders and other documents.



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In response, Company militia prevented her from going to Calcutta, and the Company deprived her of all authority in zamindari affairs. This was also a testing time for the family’s honour. The Company accused Rani Bishnukumari of conducting a scandalous affair with Ramkant (her diwan and the father of the reformer, Rammohan Roy), and of conspiring with Ramkant to embezzle Rs.11 lakh from her young son, Tejchandra. In fact, the Company removed Tejchandra from this mother’s care and gave him to Nabakrishna as guardian, an act that was branded as tyranny by members of Parliament in London. Rani Bishnukumari wrote about this dismal time in her life as follows: Being at Amboah (Kalna) the Hurcarrach (guard) Mootyram and others so beset every side of my House that it was impossible even for an Ant to escape; I had no notice of my son’s situation nor had he of mine. In this manner a space of four years elapsed and I was even destitute of food or Clothing. After this my ungrateful servants joining themselves to others fraudulently took the Maha Rajah with them to Calcutta and  .  .  .  carried him to live at Nobkissen’s house.116

Nabakrishna fell into arrears in 1781–2 so the Company dismissed him as manager and turned the estate over for four years to young raja Tejchandra and his amla, whose appointments needed approval by the Company. In 1786, the Company judged Tejchandra to be mature enough to assume full charge of the estate.117 Tej’s leadership did not reduce Company interference in the estate’s management. In 1787, the Burdwan Collector severely cut management expenses by dismissing fourteen of the seventeen zamindari vakils, by halving the salaries of the zamindari amla, and shrinking the zamindari militia from roughly 2,000 to 1,000 soldiers.118 A few decades earlier, Burdwan palace guards and militia had numbered over thirty thousand men. As manager, Tejchandra demonstrated that his mother’s scandalous reputation, and forced separation from her son during Nabakrishna’s guardianship, had not ruined his ability to run Burdwan’s affairs. He showed himself to have the guile to risk dispossession again and again, backing away from confrontations with the Company officials in order to avoid forfeiting his authority.

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He shrewdly manipulated his relatives, amla, and Company officials to preserve the estate. He was ‘almost as combative and prickly as his mother had been.’119 He was constantly in conflict with both the Company and his mother. His mother complained repeatedly to Company officers about the profligate company Tej kept, about his behaviour that she claimed prevented him from having a son. His illness in 1793, allegedly with venereal disease, lent credence to his mother’s allegations.120 The Company pressed Tej over arrears, especially in 1787 when September flooding of the Damodar and Ajay rivers sent two or three feet of water over the fields and severely damaged the crops. In Burdwan town, the acting Collector reported that ‘not a vestige of a mud house’” remained. Many cows drowned. The raja pleaded for revenue relief for the eight lakh of arrears, but he was refused on the grounds that zamindari contracts excluded natural causes as excuses. The Collector chastised the raja for using extensive coercion. The government suspended the raja’s moshaira (maintenance allowance) and the pay of his amla and paiks (foot soldiers). It confiscated the raja’s personal possessions, including his palanquin and clothes, ‘Patna Black and Gold Furniture’, 35 Chinese, European, and ‘country’ paintings, seven elephants, and twelve horses. The Company was clearly trying to humiliate the raja into complying with its demands. But reports that the price of grain in the southern parganas of Burdwan had risen five-fold led the authorities in Calcutta to indulge the raja briefly. Then in the summer of 1788, for the second year in a row, rains damaged crops again in both northern and southern Burdwan. This time, the government in 1789, for the first time, recovered the arrears by selling some zamindari lands. The unforgiving era of the Permanent Settlement was opening.121 Tejchandra’s coming of age and ascendency to the full powers of zamindar immediately preceded a sharp swing of official favour towards the zamindars. There were several reasons for this shift. One was the sympathy that news of the intrusive Company interference in Burdwan family affairs had generated in England. More importantly, the farming experiment, as said above, led to a wave of corruption and it also failed to expand the efficiency of revenue collections. In 1786, the Board of Directors sent its famous letter instructing the Calcutta government to settle the revenues permanently with the zamindars.



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Conclusion The outstanding fact about the eighteenth-century zamindari system was its resilience. It survived for almost a century through numerous invasions, changes in government, natural disasters, and official condemnation of zamindari abilities. Mughal and British governments alike experimented with alternative means of collecting the land revenue, using mansabdars, ijaradars, amils, merchants, taludars, and little and big zamindars. In the end, the Company did what Murshid Quli Khan had done and relied on the large zamindars. At the time of the 1790 settlement, according to Sirajul Islam, a dozen zamindaris were still collecting more than half of Bengal’s revenue.122 In other parts of India, government settled with the superior raiyats, not as often with the zamindars or taluqdars. Why did Bengal administrators finally turn to the large Hindu zamindars, whose behaviour they deplored and whose character they disparaged? Part of the answer is bound up in the cultural role they played, a role whose politically stabilizing function that officials such as Warren Hastings seemed to appreciate. Zamindars nurtured traditional institutions that appeared to fit what subjects expected from Hindu society. By constructing terracotta temples of unusual grace and variety, by patronizing popular poets and respected scholars, by supporting Hindu (especially Sakta) ceremonies and festivals,123 by giving stipends to thousands of Brahmins and other pious people, the zamindars helped Hindu culture survive centuries of non-Bengali rule in familiar and comfortable forms. Some also repaired river embankments, advanced money to raiyats for planting, and distributed relief during food shortages. Some zamindars, notably Rani Bhawani of Nator and Maharaja Krishnachandra of Nadia, also exemplified admired Hindu personal behaviour through their austerity and generosity. Some of the nouveau zamindars, such as Raja Nabakrishna Deb of Shovabazar and Gokhal Ghosal, also won the approval of Hindu opinion. Nabakrishna, Warren Hastings’s Persian teacher, became a wealthy zamindar through the spoils he won in the overthrow of Sirajuddaula and his subsequent diplomatic and administrative service. He was famous for his generosity. He fed the poor, patronized musicians and learned men, donated to the Calcutta Madrassa and Christian churches, and sponsored community Durga pujas.124

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Also central to the Company’s preference for large zamindars was the fact they cooperated with the rulers far more often than they resisted them, especially after Shova Singh’s rebellion was crushed. Resistance, when it came, was usually of a passive kind rather than violent. Zamindars rarely cooperated with each other so that their resistance was not perceived as military threatening. Rather they were seen as necessary if sometimes hesitant or incompetent subordinates in extracting revenue and controlling a population with multiple cultural affiliations. In the case of Nabakrishna Deb and Gokhal Ghosal, collaboration with the Company enabled them to buy zamindari land and cross over into the role of raja. Nevertheless, by the 1790s, zamindari finances, autonomy, and military power were weakened notably compared to the early decades of the century. The Maratha invasions and the famine of 1770 severely damaged many parts of west Bengal. These disasters did not lead the Company to permanently lower its revenue demands. On the contrary, the costs of trade, expansion, and a growing military and civil service drove the Company to seek new revenue. The Company raised revenue demands by perhaps one-fifth between 1757 and 1790. The forced sales for arrears after the 1790 settlement pushed larger zamindars into deep decline. Birbhum and Bishnupur on the arid western frontier shrank to fractions of their former size. Their ruling families were reduced to begging. Nadia and Dinajpur were not much better off. Their estates had fractured and passed into the hands of auction purchasers and former dependents. Burdwan’s territory alone reached the mid-1790s of the century largely intact.125 The land sales had been foreshadowed by several factors. Society was rebalancing. Intermediate interests in the zamindari hierarchy, with access to capital yet closer socially to the cultivators than to the rajas with large retinues in their palaces, were poised to purchase parcels of distressed estates as pressures mounted on the larger revenue-payers. As zamindari spending on patronage, including temple building, declined in the later decades of the century, these new groups, including ‘traders, artisans, and cultivators’, began to build substantial temples for the first time. They were seeking higher ritual status and more respect in their communities.126 At the same time, more assertive raiyats were resisting zamindari rental demands in their villages. Company collectors and courts were increasingly



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willing to listen to legal suits from and then side with rich raiyats in their disputes. This was an additional factor in the failure of many landholders to meet the stricter deadlines of the new revenue system.  The zamindari failures, forced by Company strictness, were marked. From 1794 to 1807, land in Bengal with 41 per cent of the province’s jama was put up for sale.127 Many of the buyers had been zamindari servants or intermediary landholders (taluqdars) under the former zamindars. Many others were new to landholding. This constituted a major upheaval among the upper strata of Bengali society. A poignant sign of the decline in dignity and influence of zamindars may be seen in the way the Company continued to distribute  khilats  after the Permanent Settlement of 1793. The Company at times sought to uphold custom, to give influential people less reason to believe it was undermining customary hierarchy. That was why Sayyid Ghulam Husain Tabatabai had written gratefully in 1782 for the Company’s decision not to resume hereditary taxfree lands distributed by the Mughals to their favourites.128 But in distributing khilats, Company servants were constrained by the new restrictions on the giving and taking of presents. The Company discontinued the puniya altogether because of its association with extorted gifts. They continued to distribute khilats but they shrank the value of the presents making up the khilat so much that the ceremony withered into a ritual devoid of meaning.129 Exchange of presents and the giving of nazrs and khilats had been vital parts of Mughal and Hindu kingship in eighteenth-century Bengal. Kingship was being drained of its mutuality, dignity, and vitality at the same time that zamindars were pressed to drain agricultural profits from their dependent peasantry.

Notes   1. One of the most useful studies of zamindars in eighteenth-century Bengal, although it slights the Hindu basis for zamindari behaviour, is Shirin Akhtar, The Role of the Zamindars of Bengal, 1707–1772, Dacca: Asiatic Society of Bangladesh, 1982.   2. Om Prakash, The Dutch East India Company and the Economy of Bengal, 1630–1720, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1985, pp. 246–7.

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  3. Abdul Karim, Murshid Quli Khan and His Times, Dacca: Asiatic Society of Bangladesh, 1963, pp. 21–2.   4. François Bernier, Travels in the Mughal Empire ad 1656–1668, 2nd edn., London: Oxford University Press, 1916, pp. 437, 441.   5. Jadunath Sarkar, ed., History of Bengal, Vol. II: Muslim Period, 1200–1757, Dacca: University of Dacca, 1948, pp. 391–2, 405, 413.   6. Abdul Karim, ‘Murshid Quli Khan’, Banglapedia: National Encyclopedia of Bangladesh, available at http://en.banglapedia.org/index.php?title= Murshid_Quli_Khan, accessed 15 April 2017.   7. Sarker, ed., History of Bengal, p. 401.   8. Karim, Murshid Quli Khan, p. 77.   9. Salim Allah, A Narrative of the Transactions in Bengal, tr. Francis Gladwin, Calcutta: Press of Stuart and Cooper, 1788, pp. 61, 80.  10. Karim, Murshid Quli Khan, p. 89.   11. Calculations of the actual collections are complex. See John R. McLane, Land and Local Kingship in Eighteenth-Century Bengal, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993, p. 35, n. 45.   12. Sirajul Islam and Shirin Akhtar, ‘Zamindar’, Banglapedia: National Encyclopedia of Bangladesh, available at http://en.banglapedia.org/index. php?title=Zamindar, accessed 8 November 2017.   13. This sum is according to Salim Allah. Karim, Murshid Quli Khan, p. 76.   14. B. Chaudhuri, ‘Eastern India’, in The Cambridge Economic History of India, Vol. 2: c.1757–c.1970, ed. Dharma Kumar and Meghnad Desai, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982, p. 86.   15. Quoted in McLane, Land and Local Kingship, p. 214.   16. For discussion on the puniya in Bengal, see ibid., pp. 48–52.  17. Karim, Murshid Quli Khan, p. 90.   18. The Mughal/Sanskritic king dichotomy is discussed by David L. Curley, ‘Maharaja Krsnacandra, Hinduism, and Kingship’, Poetry and History: Bengali Mangal-Kabya and Social Change in Precolonial Bengal, New Delhi: Chronicle Books, 2008, pp. 15 ff.  19. On khilats, see McLane, Land and Local Kingship, pp. 117–21.   20. Ibid., pp. 48–52.   21. Paul Greenough, Prosperity and Misery in Modern Bengal: The Famine of 1943–1944, New York: Oxford University Press, 1982, p. 47.   22. Quoted in Benjamin Walker, The Hindu World: An Encyclopedic Survey of Hinduism, vol. I, New York: Praeger, 1968, p. 267.   23. Pandurang Vaman Kane, History of Dharmasastra (Ancient and Medieval Religious and Civil Law), vol. III, Poona: Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute, 1946, p. 187.   24. Quoted from Edward C. Dimock, tr., ‘The Vidya-Sundara of Bharatchandra’, in The Thief of Love: Bengali Tales from Court and Village, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1963, p. 34.



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  25. Ibid., pp. 20, 96.  26. McLane, Land and Local Kingship, p. 79.   27. N. Majumdar, Justice and Police in Bengal, 1765–1793: A Study of the Nizamat in Decline, Calcutta: K.L. Mukhopadhyay, 1960, p. 316. For an extended analysis of zamindari coercion, including Hindu attitudes towards and tolerance of pain, see McLane, Land and Local Kingship, pp. 81–95.  28. Karim, Murshid Quli Khan, pp. 98–100.   29. Philip Calkins, ‘The Formation of a Regionally Oriented Ruling Group in Bengal, 1700–1740’, Journal of Asian Studies, vol. 29, no. 4, August 1970, pp. 799–806.  30. Karim, Murshid Quli Khan, pp. 90–2.   31. Loke Nath Ghose, Modern History of Indian Chiefs, Rajas, Zamindars, &c. Part II. The Native Aristocracy and Gentry, Calcutta: J.K. Ghose & Co., 1881, pp. 359–63.  32. Karim, Murshid Quli Khan, p. 218.   33. For a discussion of Burdwan’s geography and size, see McLane, Land and Local Kingship, pp. 125 ff.   34. Ibid., pp. 132–5.   35. For Shova’s rebellion, see ibid., pp. 130–46.   36. Ibid., pp. 141–3.   37. Aniruddha Ray, ‘Shobha Singh’, Banglapedia: National Encyclopedia of Bangladesh, available at http://en.banglapedia.org/index.php?title= Shobha_Singh, accessed 10 April 2017.   38. D. Majumdar, West Bengal District Gazetteers: Birbhum, Calcutta, 1975, p. 106.   39. John F. Richards, The New Cambridge History of India: The Mughal Empire, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993, pp. 282, 290–1.   40. The following discussion of Burdwan’s growth is summarized in McLane, Land and Local Kingship, pp. 139 ff.   41. Ibid., p. 146.   42. Ibid., p. 144.   43. In northern India, the British often used the term ‘taluqdar’ for the superior holder. And in Bengal in the 1790s, taluqdars were frequently separated from the parent zamindari and recognized as the superior holder. See Sirajul Islam, ‘Taluqdar’, Banglapedia: National Encyclopedia of Bangladesh, available at http://en.banglapedia.org/index.php?title=Taluqdar, accessed 27 July 2017.   44. Peter Marshall, Bengal: The British Bridgehead. Eastern India 1740–1828, The New Cambridge History of India, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987, p. 56.  45. McLane, Land and Local Kingship, p. 118.

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  46. Ibid., pp. 181–4.   47. Rachel McDermott, Singing to the Goddess: Poems to Kali and Uma from Bengal, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001, p. 8.  48. McLane, Land and Local Kingship, p. 154. For the spread of Farsi, see Sarkar, History of Bengal, Vol. II, p. 223.   49. Government of West Bengal, West Bengal District Gazetteer: Barddhaman, Calcutta, n.d., p. 309.   50. J.C.K. Peterson, Bengal District Gazetteers: Burdwan, Calcutta: Bengal Secretariat Book Depot, 1910, pp. 197–8.   51. A.C. Bhattacharyya, A Corpus of Dedicatory Inscriptions from Temples of West Bengal ad c.1500 to ad c.1800, Dacca: Asiatic Society of Bangladesh, 1982, p. 133; David J. McCutchion, Late Medieval Temples of Bengal: Origins and Classifications, Calcutta: Asiatic Society of Bengal, 1972, p. 56.   52. Kalikinkar Datta, Alivardi and His Times, Calcutta, 1939, p. 87.   53. Yusuf Ali, ‘Ahwal-i-Mahabat Jang’, in Bengal Nawabs, tr. Jadunath Sarkar, Calcutta: Asiatic Society of Bengal, 1952, p. 96.  54. McLane, Land and Local Kingship, p. 168.   55. Ibid., pp. 162–3.  56. Datta, Alivardi, p. 45.  57. Ali, Ahwal-i-Mahabat Jang, p. 98.   58. Sarkar, ed., History of Bengal, p. 461.   59. For other murders committed for Alivardi, see Karim Ali, ‘Muzaffarnamah’, in Bengal Nawabs, tr. Jadunath Sarkar, Calcutta: Asiatic Society of Bengal, 1952, pp. 17–18, 35, 52–5.   60. Mohammad Shah, ‘Mir Jafar Ali Khan’, Banglapedia: National Encyclopedia of Bangladesh, available at http://en.banglapedia.org/index.php?title=Mir_ Jafar_Ali_Khan, accessed 13 December 2017.   61. Henry Vansittart, A Narrative of the Transactions in Bengal, 1760–1764, London: Printed for J. Newbery, J. Dolsley, and J. Robson, 1766, pp. 67–80.  62. McLane, Land and Local Kingship, pp. 165–71.   63. Ali, ‘Muzaffar-namah’, p. 59. Also, ‘J.Z. Holwell to COD, 30 Nov. 1756’, in Bengal in 1756–1757: A Selection of Public and Private Papers Dealing with the Affairs of the British in Bengal during the Reign of Siraj-uddaula, vol. II, Indian Record Series, ed. S.C. Hill, London: J. Murray, 1905, p. 16.  64. Gangaram, The Maharashtra Purana: An Eighteenth-Century Bengali Historical Text, tr. Edward Dimock and Pratul Chandra Gupta, Honolulu, 1965, pp. 32–8.  65. Datta, Alivardi, p. 73.  66. Wakil Ahmed, ‘Folk Literature’, Banglapedia: National Encyclopedia of Bangladesh, available at http://en.banglapedia.org/index.php?title=Folk_ Literature, accessed 30 May 2019.



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  67. Kalikinkar Datta, Studies in the History of the Bengal Subah, 1740–70, vol. I, Calcutta, 1936, p. 157.   68. K.N. Chaudhuri, The Trading World of Asia and the English East India Company, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1978, p. 253.   69. For an estimate of the population in 1742, see Om Prakash, The Dutch East India Company, pp. 246–7.   70. S. Bhattacharya, ‘Eastern India’, in The Cambridge Economic History, Vol. II: c.1757–c.1970, ed. Dharma Kumar and Meghnad Desai, 1982; repr., Delhi: Cambridge University Press, 1984, p. 297.  71. Chaudhuri, Trading World, p. 101.   72. Ibid., p. 308.   73. The quote is from Tapan Raychaudhuri, ‘The mid-eighteenth century background’, in The Cambridge Economic History, Vol. II: c.1757–c.1970, ed. Dharma Kumar and Meghnad Desai, 1982; repr., Delhi: Cambridge University Press, 1984, p. 7.   74. Others include Bhattacharya, ‘Eastern India’, pp. 297 ff.; and Sushil Chaudhury, From Prosperity to Decline: Eighteenth Century Bengal, Delhi: Manohar, 1995.   75. A.B.M. Mahmood, ‘Rani Bhabani’, Banglapedia: National Encyclopedia of Bangladesh, available at http://en.banglapedia.org/index.php?title=Rani_ Bhabani, accessed 7 November 2017.   76. Tapan Raychaudhuri, ‘Bharatchandra Ray’, Banglapedia: National Encyclopedia of Bangladesh, available at http://en.banglapedia.org/index. php?title=Bharatchandra_Ray, accessed 7 November 2017.  77. Marshall, Bengal: The British Bridgehead, pp. 71–2.   78. S.C. Hill, Bengal in 1756–1757: A Selection of Public and Private Papers Dealing with the Affairs of the British in Bengal during the Reign of Sirajuddaula, vol. I, Indian Records Series, London: J. Murray, 1905, p. ciii.   79. S.C. Hill, Bengal in 1756–1757: A Selection of Public and Private Papers Dealing with the Affairs of the British in Bengal during the Reign of Sirajuddaula, vol. III, Indian Records Series, London: J. Murray, 1905, p. 162.   80. Shah, ‘Mir Jafar Ali Khan’.   81. Joel Bordeaux, The Mythic King: Raja Krishnacandra and Early Modern Bengal, unpublished PhD dissertation, Columbia University, 2015, p. 277, available at https://doi.org/10.7916/D8736PS3, accessed 2 November 2017.   82. This is David Curley’s argument in ‘Maharaja Krsnacandra, Hinduism, and Kingship’, pp. 18 ff.  83. McLane, Land and Local Kingship, p. 179; Hill, Bengal in 1756–1757, vol. I, p. lxvi.  84. Vansittart, A Narrative, p. 19.

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  85. F.D. Ascoli, Early Revenue History of Bengal and the Fifth Report, 1812, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1917, p. 28.  86. McLane, Land and Local Kingship, pp. 181–5.   87. Ibid., pp. 182–3.   88. Ibid., p. 185.   89. Ibid., pp. 182–6. Also, see Mohammad Shah, ‘Mir Qasim’, Banglapedia: National Encyclopedia of Bangladesh, available at http://en.banglapedia. org/index.php?title=Mir_Qasim, accessed 23 May 2019.   90. On European private trade, see Marshall, Bengal: The British Bridgehead, pp. 102 ff.   91. W.W. Hunter, The Annals of Rural Bengal, London: Smith, Elder & Co., 1868.   92. Ibid., pp. 58–60.   93. For eyewitness accounts, see McLane, Land and Local Kingship, pp. 195–7.  94. Hunter, Annals, pp. 36–7.   95. [Anonymous], ‘Account of the Late Famine in India’, The Gentleman’s Magazine and Historical Chronicle, vol. 41, September 1771, p. 402.  96. Hunter, Annals, p. 63.   97. Ibid., pp. 70–3.   98. Ibid., p. 418.  99. McLane, Land and Local Kingship, p. 201. 100. Marshall, Bengal: The British Bridgehead, pp. 116–17. 101. Ibid., p. 119. 102. McLane, Land and Local Kingship, p. 214. 103. Ibid., p. 214. 104. Irfan Habib, The Agrarian System of Mughal India (1556–1707), Bombay: Asia Publishing House, 1963, p. 146. 105. Narendra Krishna Sinha, The Economic History of Bengal from Plassey to the Permanent Settlement, vol. II, Calcutta: Firma K.L. Mukhopadhyay, 1962, pp. 84, 105. 106. Abbaya Pada Mallik, History of Bishnupur-Raj (An Ancient Kingdom of West Bengal), Calcutta: Chuckervertty, Chatterjee, & Co., 1921, pp. 55–9. Also, McLane, Land and Local Kingship, pp. 214–16. 107. Ibid., pp. 216–17. 108. Ibid., pp. 217–19. 109. Ibid., pp. 220–1. 110. Ranjit Guha, Rule of Property for Bengal: An Essay on the Idea of Permanent Settlement, Paris: Mouton & Co., 1963, p. 121. 111. McLane, Land and Local Kingship, p. 214. 112. Ibid., p. 221. 113. The Amini Commission report is in R.B. Ramsbotham, Studies in the



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Land Revenue of Bengal, 1769–1787, London: Oxford University Press, 1926, pp. 99–130. The Grant-Shore controversy is analysed in Ascoli, Early Revenue History of Bengal, pp. 42–62. 114. Sinha, Economic History, vol. II, p. 105. 115. McLane, Land and Local Kingship, p. 227. 116. Ibid., p. 257. 117. Ibid., pp. 259–60. 118. Ibid., p. 263. 119. Ibid., p. 260. 120. Ibid., pp. 261–2. 121. Ibid., pp. 262–4. 122. Cited by Marshall, Bengal: The British Bridgehead, p. 144. 123. McDermott, Singing to the Goddess, p. 8. 124. Ghose, Indian Chiefs, pp. 91–4. 125. Marshall, Bengal: The British Bridgehead, p. 144. 126. These are Hitesh Sanyal’s arguments summarized in ibid., p. 29. 127. McLane, Land and Local Kingship, p. 146. 128. Ibid., p. 120. 129. Ibid., p. 115.

References Ahmed, Wakil, ‘Folk Literature’, Banglapedia: National Encyclopedia of Bangladesh, available at http://en.banglapedia.org/index.php?title=Folk_ Literature, accessed 30 May 2019. Akhtar, Shirin, The Role of the Zamindars of Bengal, 1707–1772, Dacca: Asiatic Society of Bangladesh, 1982. Ali, Yusuf, ‘Ahwal-i-Mahabat Jang’, in Bengal Nawabs, tr. Jadunath Sarkar, Calcutta: Asiatic Society of Bengal, 1952. Allah, Salim, A Narrative of the Transactions in Bengal, tr. Francis Gladwin, Calcutta: Press of Stuart and Cooper, 1788. [Anonymous], ‘Account of the Late Famine in India’, The Gentleman’s Magazine and Historical Chronicle, vol. 41, September 1771. Ascoli, F.D., Early Revenue History of Bengal and the Fifth Report, 1812, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1917. Bernier, Francois, Travels in the Mughal Empire ad 1656–1668, 2nd edn., London: Oxford University Press, 1916. Bharatchandra, ‘The Vidya-Sundara of Bharatchandra’, in The Thief of Love: Bengali Tales from Court and Village, tr. Edward C. Dimock, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1963. Bhattacharyya, A.C., A Corpus of Dedicatory Inscriptions from Temples of West Bengal ad c.1500 to ad c.1800, Dacca: Asiatic Society of Bangladesh, 1982.

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Bordeaux, Joel, The Mythic King: Raja Krishnacandra and Early Modern Bengal, unpublished PhD dissertation, Columbia University, 2015, available at https://doi.org/10.7916/D8736PS3, accessed 6 May 2019. Calkins, Philip, ‘The Formation of a Regionally Oriented Ruling Group in Bengal, 1700–1740’, Journal of Asian Studies, vol. 29, no. 4, August 1970, pp. 799–806. Chaudhuri, K.N., The Trading World of Asia and the English East India Company, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1978. Chaudhury, Sushil, From Prosperity to Decline: Eighteenth Century Bengal, New Delhi: Manohar, 1995. Curley, David L., ‘Maharaja Krsnacandra, Hinduism, and Kingship’, Poetry and History: Bengali Mangal-Kabya and Social Change in Precolonial Bengal, New Delhi: Chronicle Books, 2008. Datta, Kalikinkar, Studies in the History of the Bengal Subah, 1740–70, vol. I, Calcutta: University of Calcutta Press, 1936. Gangaram, The Maharashtra Purana: An Eighteenth-Century Bengali Historical Text, tr. Edward Dimock and Pratul Chandra Gupta, Honolulu: East-West Center Press, 1965. Ghose, Loke Nath, Modern History of Indian Chiefs, Rajas, Zamindars, &c. Part II. The Native Aristocracy and Gentry, Calcutta: J.K. Ghose & Co., 1881. Government of West Bengal, West Bengal District Gazetteer: Barddhaman, Calcutta, n.d. Greenough, Paul, Prosperity and Misery in Modern Bengal: The Famine of 1943–1944, New York: Oxford University Press, 1982. Guha, Ranjit, Rule of Property for Bengal: An Essay on the Idea of Permanent Settlement, Paris: Mouton & Co., 1963. Habib, Irfan, The Agrarian System of Mughal India (1556–1707), Bombay: Asia Publishing House, 1963. Hill, S.C., ed., Bengal in 1756–1757: A Selection of Public and Private Papers Dealing with the Affairs of the British in Bengal during the Reign of Sirajuddaula, 3 vols., Indian Record Series, London: J. Murray, 1905. Islam, Sirajul, ‘Taluqdar’, Banglapedia: National Encyclopedia of Bangladesh, available at http://en.banglapedia.org/index.php?title=Taluqdar, accessed 27 July 2017. Islam, Sirajul, and Shirin Akhtar, ‘Zamindar’, Banglapedia: National Encyclopedia of Bangladesh, available at http://en.banglapedia.org/index.php?title= Zamindar, accessed 8 November 2017. Kane, Pandurang Vaman, History of Dharmasastra (Ancient and Medieval Religious and Civil Law), vol. III, Poona: Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute, 1946. Karim, Abdul, Murshid Quli Khan and His Times, Dacca: Asiatic Society of Pakistan, 1963.



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Karim, Abdul, ‘Murshid Quli Khan’, Banglapedia: National Encyclopedia of Bangladesh, available at http://en.banglapedia.org/index.php?title=Murshid_ Quli_Khan, accessed 15 April 2017. Kumar, Dharma and Meghnad Desai, eds., The Cambridge Economic History of India, Vol. 2: c.1757–c.1970, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982. Mahmood, A.B.M., ‘Rani Bhabani’, Banglapedia: National Encyclopedia of Bangladesh, available at http://en.banglapedia.org/index.php?title=Rani_ Bhabani, accessed 7 November 2017. Majumdar, D., West Bengal District Gazetteers: Birbhum, Calcutta, 1971. Majumdar, N., Justice and Police in Bengal, 1765–1793: A Study of the Nizamat in Decline, Calcutta: K.L. Mukhopadhyay, 1960. Mallik, Abbaya Pada, History of Bishnupur-Raj (An Ancient Kingdom of West Bengal), Calcutta: Chuckervertty, Chatterjee, & Co., 1921. Marshall, Peter, The New Cambridge History of India. Bengal: The British Bridgehead. Eastern India 1740–1828, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987. McCutchion, David J., Late Medieval Temples of Bengal: Origins and Classifications, Calcutta: Asiatic Society of Bengal, 1972. McDermott, Rachel, Singing to the Goddess: Poems to Kali and Uma from Bengal, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001. McLane, John R., Land and Local Kingship in Eighteenth Bengal, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993. Prakash, Om, The Dutch East India Company and the Economy of Bengal, 1630–1720, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1985. Peterson, J.C.K., Bengal District Gazetteers: Burdwan, Calcutta: Bengal Secretariat Book Depot, 1910. Ray, Aniruddha, ‘Shobha Singh’, Banglapedia: National Encyclopedia of Bangladesh, available at http://en.banglapedia.org/index.php?title=Shobha_ Singh, accessed 10 April 2017. Ramsbotham, R.B., Studies in the Land Revenue of Bengal, 1769–1787, London: Oxford University Press, 1926. Raychaudhuri, Tapan, ‘Bharatchandra Ray’, Banglapedia: National Encyclopedia of Bangladesh, available at http://en.banglapedia.org/index.php?title= Bharatchandra_Ray, accessed 7 November 2017. Richards, John F., The New Cambridge History of India: The Mughal Empire, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993. Sarkar, Jadunath, ed., History of Bengal, Vol. II: Muslim Period, 1200–1757, Dacca: University of Dacca, 1948. Shah, Mohammad, ‘Mir Jafar Ali Khan’, Banglapedia: National Encyclopedia of Bangladesh, available at http://en.banglapedia.org/index.php?title=Mir_ Jafar_Ali_Khan, accessed 13 December 2017.

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Sinha, Narendra Krishna, The Economic History of Bengal from Plassey to the Permanent Settlement, Calcutta: Firma K.L. Mukhopadhyay, 1962. Vansittart, Henry, A Narrative of the Transactions in Bengal, 1760–1764, London: Printed for J. Newbery, J. Dolsley, and J. Robson, 1766. Walker, Benjamin, The Hindu World: An Encyclopedic Survey of Hinduism, vol. I, New York: Praeger, 1968.

10 Internal Trade and Markets in Bengal and the Rise of the English East India Company, 1700–1790 Sudipta Sen

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y the first decade of the eighteenth century, the English East India Company had emerged as a global joint-stock mercantile corporation, endowed by royal charter, equipped to compete with the Portuguese, Dutch and the French for the commercial largesse of the Indian Ocean littoral. Controlled by a small and affluent group of merchants who constituted an exclusive Court of Directors, the East India Company in the space of a few decades began to command the most important transatlantic sea lanes and shipping routes to India, its profits generating an average annual return of 8 per cent for its major shareholders. Over the course of the century it would succeed in edging out its European rivals and engrossing the lion’s share of the shipping between Great Britain and the Indian subcontinent, famously earning the opprobrium of the Scottish theorist of political economy Adam Smith, who described it as a despotic and noxious monopoly shielded by the parliament.1 The history of the Company’s rise to prosperity and territorial power is also intimately tied to the history of the rise and fall of the Bengal Nawabs, especially in the latter half of the eighteenth century when the Seven Years War in Europe spilled over into North America and the Indian subcontinent, most visibly in the Anglo-French struggle for empire that continued well beyond the Peace of Westphalia, 1753. The long shadow of European mercantile trade and the presence of European merchants in Bengal provide the larger historical

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context, not only for the East India Company’s armed conflict with other European powers during the mid-eighteenth century, but also for the clash between the Company and the indigenous rulers and merchants in Bengal. This essay takes up the history of this conflict over the spoils of internal trade, markets and marketplaces of Bengal that lasted for the greater part of the nineteenth century. The military victories of the Battle of Plassey (1757) and Battle of Buxar (1764) did not resolve all aspects of this long standing quarrel between the Company and various ranks of indigenous rulers over the rightful claim of political authority over the trading routes of greater Bengal over land and water. This essay presents a retrospective of this extended conflict over trade and markets in Bengal, re-examining the long term and disruptive consequences of European mercantile capital for the indigenous politics and economy of Bengal, which set the context for the rise of the East India Company’s unprecedented fiscal-military regime in India.

Trade and Patronage in Late Mughal Bengal Ever since the Portuguese had started to brave the coastal belt and shallows of the Bengal delta, the sight of hat-wearing European traders wielding muskets along with a few cassock-decked Jesuit padres had become a common sight across the markets and towns of Bengal, typically described as ‘hat-wearers’ (kulā-poshān) in Persian accounts. Poet Bharatchandra, in the ballad Vidyasundara, written in the early eighteenth century, describes hat-wearing European mercenaries (Bengali: kolāposha) including Englishmen, Dutchmen (olandāja), Frenchmen (farāsa), Danes (dinemāra) and Germans (elemāna).2 The lower reaches of the Ganges in Bengal known more commonly as the Hugli, had served for a long time as the focal point of most European trade in Bengal, and the English, French, Danes, and the Dutch staked out their respective claims along its banks, setting up their forts and factories in Calcutta, Chandernagore, Serampore, and Chinsura. While Aurangzeb reigned in Delhi, and Bengal was entrusted to his keen and efficient deputy Shaista Khan, the European companies did not dare to indulge in any serious provocations with



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the local authorities. The early Company pioneer and Madras Agent Streynsham Master noted in his diary that the English, like most other European traders, refrained from raising forts and garrisons, seeking instead the goodwill of the Nawab of Bengal and his magistrates.3 The Dutch, English, French, and the Danes, fought instead with each other over access to markets, weavers, brokers, credit, and currency, vying to win the favour of the local bureaucracy in charge of inland commerce with gifts and money to ease the passages of their goods through the trading routes of the Bengal interior, and trying to avoid the imposition of arbitrary and prohibitive duties. François Bernier, the French physician from Anjou who visited Mughal India and Bengal in 1665–6, records a common saying among Europeans who resorted to Bengal that the country had ‘a hundred gates open for entrance, but not one for departure.’4 For nearly two hundred years, Bengal had assimilated European newcomers into its extensive networks of trade and exchange, absorbing the influx of New World silver in exchange of manufactured goods. This part of the East Indies was, as one contemporary put it, a ‘bottomless pit for bullion.’5 During the second half of the seventeenth century, especially during the heyday of Aurangzeb’s reign, the Portuguese and Dutch trade in spices and indigo began to decline in volume. There was a rising demand for Indian cotton and silk textiles across European markets, much of it imported by the Dutch and distributed through Amsterdam, in which Bengal silk taffetas and fine muslin featured prominently.6 It is here that the English based in Bengal found a new and secure foothold in the market for textiles. It is important for us to keep this bustling, competitive and conflict-ridden mercantile world in view to form a clear picture of the risks and rewards of trade for the East India Company in Mughal Bengal. While it had set up stable and fortified outposts along the coast and the mouth of the Hugli centred on Fort William and the city of Calcutta, and extended its reach into the markets of the interior, its operations and returns on investment were far from stable. Trade and commerce in late Mughal India had become inextricably linked to money and power at the local and provincial levels, and also to the rapidly changing fortunes of the Mughal court in Delhi. Flushed with silver from the new world, the commercialization of both agricultural and artisanal production had grown in Bengal during this period,

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with peasants and artisans increasingly exposed to the fluctuations of market prices for grain and handicrafts. Mughal officials in Bengal vigilantly monitored market rates along with the fees and conduct of brokers (muqīm).7 Tolls and duties from marketplaces, riverside quays or ghā_ts and merchandize in transit were listed under the heads of sāi’r and sāi’r-jihāt, which denoted a species of revenue distinct from taxes on produce from the land (māl), including rāhadārī or roadside tolls, and zakāt, duties levied on marketplaces and market produce.8 During the period of Mughal Emperor Aurangzeb’s reign, a report submitted from the district of Lauli near Lucknow in the province of Awadh claimed that of Rs.15,000–16,000 realized by local authorities in tolls levied on merchants and travellers, only Rs.1,000–2,000 were forwarded annually to the royal treasury. Aurangzeb described this as rāhzanī or highway robbery rather than rāhadārī, complaining that these were indeed taxes that belonged rightfully to the people and the realm, collecting beyond duties stipulated in advance was unlawful.9 However, given the entrenched nature of customary rights and privileges in traditional Indian society, not much could be done about such petty, time-honoured exactions. Similar tolls were common throughout Bengal. As late as 1770, after the East India Company had stepped in as Diwan of Bengal and took up responsibility for the taxes of the eastern provinces of the Mughal Empire including Bengal, such multifarious exactions and demands were being made on boats and merchandize plying along the Ganges between Rajmahal and Murshidabad, as described by Bijayram Sen in his Tirthamangala (a vivid account of his travel up the Ganges for a pilgrimage to the holy city of Banaras).10 In Bengal, under the administration of Shaista Khan, officers of sā’ir exacted duties from all merchants, Indian or European, not only at the major custom houses such as Sultanganj in Patna, Pachottera in Murshidabad, or Bakhshbandar in Hugli, but also at a myriad of smaller posts and tollhouses along rivers and roads of the countryside. The grand farmāns of the Mughal Emperor, which were both imperial proclamations and investitures, had granted a general leave to European companies for their overseas trade, but they did not guarantee exemption from local levies. Under the Bengal Nawabs of Murshidabad who succeeded Shaista Khan, English merchants stationed at Hugli paid a handsome annual tribute (peshkash) of Rs.3,000 to trade without added duties, while the



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Danes, Dutch, and the French companies paid 2.5 per cent on their total invoices.11 The Nawab’s customs officials and clerks furnished inventories (ravānās) of each boatload of goods carried up and down the Ganga, issuing hand-written clearances (dastaks) inspected at smaller toll-posts at crossings and ferries. Inland commerce in local products such as salt, betel nut, tobacco, opium and saltpetre, what the English called the ‘country trade’ of Bengal, was lucrative, where indigenous traders and merchants held a decisive advantage over foreigners. Not only did they know the markets, trade routes and river passages, many had long established relationships with the Nawabi officials and inspectors of customs. This was a world of gifts, patronage and favours, the intricacies of which would have been difficult to penetrate for individual European traders venturing on their own. However, this is precisely what many officials of the East India Company and their Indian agents were beginning to explore in the early eighteenth century, in effect, not only violating the terms of the Mughal Emperor’s farmān which was a permission given to the Company to trade free of duty for its investments, and not for the private investments of its individual servants, but also the customary rights of the Bengal Nawabs. At the same time, it was this lure of quick enrichment through clandestine trade that attracted young men from England, Scotland and Ireland to the service of the East India Company. This was also the way the Company conducted its business in Bengal, which offered meagre salaries to its factors, ensigns, and cadets, but rewarded them indirectly through the perquisites of their station, which included clandestine deals in inland and country trade through local middlemen. Many of these items of everyday use, especially salt, saltpetre, betel nut and opium were framed out by the Nawab and his courtiers to long-established merchant houses in the manner of prestige goods with stipulated rates of duty, and trading in them required a special favour or dispensation. As the English and their agents began to infiltrate the networks of trade in these select items, they ran the risk of encountering the disfavour of rulers of Bengal. The fortunes of the Mughal Empire began to decline after the death of Aurangzeb, and although the English had succeeded in securing a generous ratification of their trading interests from the short-lived Emperor Farruksiyar, by the second decade of the eighteenth century

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the imprimatur of Delhi did not carry the same kind of weight as it once had in the past with the rulers of Bengal.

The Ascendency of European Companies Emperor Aurangzeb chose Murshid Quli Khan a Diwan from the Mughal Deccan to succeed as the Nawab of Bengal, over his own son. The Diwan had proven his mettle in the administration of land revenue in the districts of Berar, with a thorough examination (hāli-hā]sil) and overhaul of old and lapsed revenue wards and new and differentiated assessments for key crops (dastūr).12 Murshid Quli Khan quickly took up the reins of revenue administration in Bengal, setting up an efficient and uncompromising regimen of taxes. The Rs.26 lakh as annual tribute in money sent from Bengal soon became one of the indispensable sources of income for the financially Mughal strapped empire. This was also the time during which the European trading companies were testing the political waters of Bengal, trying to outbid each other in order to gain favours and concessions from the Nawab and his officials. Murshid Quli Khan was well aware of the financial exigencies of his times, and he became well known as a ruthless pursuer of untapped sources of revenue, recalibrating the administration of Bengal into new revenue wards (chāklās) and differentiating revenue yields according to productivity of the land. The Bengal economy was in a state of rapid monetization during this period, evident not only in the management of land—which saw a rising incidence of revenue being leased for collection to revenue farmers (ijārādars), but also in the increasing venality of public offices and political favours.13 During Aurangzeb’s reign zamindars and tax farmers had to invest much more in tributes and favours to local officialdom in order to realize their surplus, and such practices were widespread in Bengal.14 Walter Clavell reporting to Streynsham Master in 1676, on the state of the internal trade in the Bengal delta, especially along the routes between Hugli and Balasore, wrote indignantly about the dire situation faced by local merchants in this region.15 Ever since Shaista Khan took charge of the administration of Bengal, and obtained Hugli as part of his personal jāgir, his closest confidants began to engross all rents, profits, perquisites, fines, and



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customs from the country trade. He complained of the Nawab’s officers oppressing poor people with their monopolies on most commodities passing through the country, including grass, fodder, canes, firewood, and thatch.16 The Nawab’s officers, Clavell charged, dictated a lion’s share of internal trade. Dhaka, for instance, yielded rents between Rs. 20,000 and 40,000 every year. They advanced money to some of the most prominent Hindu merchants, a return of Rs.25 for every Rs.100 invested per annum, who were often called upon after merely 6–8 months to pay up both principal and interest.17 Some merchants ended up paying a return of almost 50 per cent per year to the Nawab’s treasury ‘draining themselves, by this unhappy trade with him and his ministers, of the whole advantage they make of their other traffick.’18 Over and above such demands, English traders were expected to offer ‘first fruits’ (peshkash), i.e. money and presents to the various officers of the Nawab. Such ‘rogueries’ according to Clavell included gifts at feasts thrown for birthdays, circumcisions, and marriages in the Nawab’s extended household at Murshidabad. These expenses were routinely tabled in the Company account books as ‘darbar charges’, and in 1704 the monthly expenditures under this head added up to almost half of that paid out as monthly wages to Company servants at Fort William.19 It is clear from contemporary records left behind by early English factors that the Nawab’s administration extracted a considerable amount of money from duties levied on key items of trade such as salt, betel nut, tobacco, opium and saltpetre. Salt was one of the most valuable commodities in coastal Bengal, and farming out duties from salt yielded a handsome contribution to the Bengal treasury. Clavell reported from Hugli that Nicolas De Partera, a ‘black Portuguese’, presumably of mixed Luso-Indian descent, was the most prominent farmer of salt, and some other items, for which he paid Rs.1 lakh every year to the Nawab.20 Later during the reign of Nawab Ali Vardi Khan, the Armenian merchant Khwaja Wajid was placed in charge of the salt trade.21 He secured a permit (parvānā) from Nawab Ali Vardi Khan in exchange of Rs.25,000, setting up a base in Hugli, and was the main supplier of saltpetre to the French, Dutch and other European companies.22 Such demands on trade began to sow the seeds of long-term dissention between native officials and European trades throughout the early decades of the eighteenth century. As political uncertainty

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began to envelope Delhi towards the end of Aurangzeb’s reign, trade and investments of the Company became increasingly insecure. The relations between Nawab Murshid Quli Khan and the English had always been testy, so much so that Aurangzeb had to weigh in on the Nawab to permit the English to trade on the same footing as they had done earlier in his reign, asking him not to molest them unnecessarily.23 After Aurangzeb’s death, there were several incidents that revealed the intolerance of the besieged Mughal government as well as the increasingly acquisitive stance of the Nawab’s government in Murshidabad, which had begun to eye the booming textile and saltpetre trade of the Dutch and the English as a new source of revenue. European companies locked in fierce competition with each other since the late seventeenth century found ways to cultivate the favour of the Nawab, lavishing gifts and bribing local officials to facilitate the passage of their merchandise. Streynsham Master, governor of Fort St George and agent deputed to the Court of Bengal by the Directors of the East India Company wrote extensively about such payoffs. In 1657, the English had been accused of dispatching a cargo headed for the Persian Gulf in ships belonging to the wealthy Portuguese merchant João Gomes De Soito, without paying duties. The cargo, including a prize cache of cinnamon had been cleared with payments made to the native officials at Dhaka and Kashimbazar. However, in a case that dragged on for many years, and in 1676, De Soito’s son brought a charge against the English for evasion of duties, and in concert with the Dutch, managed to persuade the Nawab to apprehend and imprison the English factors.24 The English escaped with a fine of nearly Rs.10,000.25 During these lengthy and tortuous transactions in the city of Dhaka, a string of local officials, including the secretary of the Diwan, clerks (mutā]saddīs), the local Qazi and even some of the mace-bearers (chobdārs) of the Nawab, all had to be placated with gifts and money, which the English saw as nothing but bribes. A similar affray broke out over the death of Raghu Poddar, the cash keeper of the factory of Kashimbazar. Raghu and his son had been placed under house arrest and interrogated for skimming off duties paid at the mint. Raghu, old and infirm, was spared, but as punishment his son was administered several strokes of the whip



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by Matthias Vincent, chief of the Kashimbazar factory. Vincent was aware of a similar case where the beating and death of the widow of a native employee at the Dutch factory had provoked the ire of Bal Chand, the Governor of Murshidabad, who slapped a huge indemnity on them.26 This is another reason why Vincent avoided meting out any direct physical punishment to Raghu. However, severely distressed by the event, Raghu went back to his shop and died early next morning, and his relatives held the Company responsible for his death. A complaint was lodged with the same Bal Chand, who demanded an examination of Raghu’s body, and demanded Rs.10,000 as recompense, promising to suspend further inquiries into the case if the English paid up the sum, along with an added Rs.3,000 in lieu of three years’ worth of annual gifts to the Nawab of Bengal since his accession to the throne.27 These examples reaffirm the point that the nawabs of Bengal did not view trade and commerce as sovereign or autonomous realms of activity. All traders, including factors and agents of European companies were subject to the immediate and unassailable authority of the Nawab, his agents, and local officials. During the early decades of the eighteenth century, as European companies became more and more entrenched in the markets, manufactories and coastal outlets, fortifying their settlements and raising local militias, the mistrust between native rulers and foreign merchants deepened.

The Infringement of Internal Trade and Customs Interference in the East India Company’s transactions around Hugli and frequent inspection of their boats along the Ganges between Patna and Calcutta carrying textiles and saltpetre, especially by officers appointed at Rajmahal threatened investments of English factors. Getting around the indictments of the Nawab and demands of various perquisites from native officials and clerks took both money and time. Native advocates (vakīls) interceding for the Company were known to have been detained and whipped by the Nawab’s men. Once in a while, even Company factors were not spared. In 1707, during the first year of Bahadur Shah’s reign following Aurangzeb’s death, the Mughal prince Azim-us-Shan in concert with Murshid Quli

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Khan accused the Company of evading duties and put an embargo on all English boats passing through Rajmahal and arrested William Cawthorpe the English agent stationed in Rajmahal.28 The Bengal Council in a retaliatory gesture threatened to withdraw all their agents to Calcutta and put at risk the entire boating trade.29 This was a costly standoff for the Company. In 1709, they were forced by the Mughal governor with a payment of Rs.45,000 to resume their trade through Rajmahal. These were some of the reasons why the English were so keen to obtain a clearance for their investments in perpetuity, in effect an Indian letter patent, for their trade in Bengal, and for which they sent an embassy led by John Surman to the Mughal Emperor Farruksiyar’s court in the summer of 1715 and successfully obtained the great Phirmaund (farmān) in 1717 to trade free of duty throughout Bengal, and Calcutta declared an autonomous presidency.30 Murshid Quli Khan was well aware of the fact that the wealth and prosperity of Bengal, apart from its agrarian bounty, was augmented by the bullion brought in by European overseas traders, and if Munshi Salimullah in the Tarikh-i Bangala is to be believed, he did not want to exact more than what was permitted as rightful customs (mā]h]sūl vājib).31 However, he forbade them to construct forts, bastions and trenches for military defence. Despite such precedent, and notwithstanding Farruksiyar’s permission, the Company clashed repeatedly over the rights of trade and passage. In 1731, during the reign of Shuja-ud-daulah, English boats on the way from Kashimbazar were seized at the Nawab’s custom house in Malda, resulting in an armed encounter in which two native guards were killed.32 In another incident at Murcha near the great mart of Bhagwangola a similar encounter led to the death of an English sergeant and the imprisonment of several soldiers in the service of the Company. Such periodic and arbitrary demands continued to be placed on European merchants, especially the English, during the tenure of Ali Vardi Khan. It was not always the case that the Nawab himself was aware of the frequent and petty exactions imposed by local officers of tolls and customs, but affrays with agents of the Company resulted in repressive measures against different factors and outposts. Native gumāshtās of the Company in Malda, for instance, were burdened with demands for considerable sums of money, and



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when they would not comply readily, the Nawab threatened to cut off their supply from traders and artisans, and even lines of credit from the native moneylenders, i.e. the banking house of the Jagath Seths.33 The Calcutta Council during these years was always looking for ways to ingratiate themselves with the Nawab through gifts and money, which often had little effect. Ali Vardi Khan was visibly annoyed when presented with the terms of the Mughal farmān of 1717 making it clear that it was he and not the Mughals who wielded the ultimate authority over traders.34 He repeatedly inquired about the state of fortifications at the English enclave in Fort William, Calcutta and the French settlement in Chandernagore, and even issued an order prohibiting the French, Dutch and English to engage in mutual hostilities under his watch.35 Luke Scrafton, a Company factor and member of the Dacca Council, who knew some Persian and took part in diplomatic negotiations with Murshidabad observed that Ali Vardi compared the settlements of European overseas traders like the English to beehives from which one might extract honey, but when disturbed they could sting one to death.36 Scrafton attributed the comment to the inscrutable motives of a ‘capricious tyrant’, but it is evident from Ali Vardi’s comments that he was quite aware of the military strength amassed by the French and the English. He warned his grandson Siraj-ud-daulah that the Europeans were quite capable of conquering Bengal and asked him to watch their actions closely. Again, a major reason for these repeated clashes was the rising volume of private, clandestine traffic of individual officials and factors of the Company, difficult to distinguish from the authorized, corporate trade of the Company itself. Company servants during this time were richly rewarded by the perquisites of their stations, which, besides gifts and bribes, included lucrative deals in inland, country trade.37 Such private trade yielded high margins of profit, as Company employees could conduct their business without the penalty of local duties, claiming protection under the old Mughal permission against which the chiefs of the English factories issued handwritten passes (dastaks). Armed with such temporary licenses their Indian agents were undercutting native merchants in the trade of prized commodities such as salt, betel nut, saltpetre, opium and tobacco. Much later, the court of directors of the EIC would confess that the ‘letter patent’ of the Mughal emperor only allowed

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for the trade of the Company and not for the personal enrichment of individual members carrying on what was essentially an illegal trade, and often resorting to violence in its support.38 Many of these items of everyday use, such as salt, tobacco, betel leaves and areca nuts were seen as prestige goods coveted by local merchants, and trading in them required an express permission from the Bengal Nawabs.39 In 1762, Governor of Fort William Henry Vansittart and Warren Hastings reported in detail the past practices of Nawabs who had routinely farmed out such lucrative articles of trade to merchants who had to bid for them.40 The English intrusion into inland trade was particularly irksome to the deputies and officials of the Nawab as well as local potentates, leading to repeated skirmishes over the passage and examination of boats laden with Company merchandise. Not just the customs-officials and toll-keepers of the Nawab, unruly zamindars also attacked and looted boats passing with Company papers (ravānās, dastaks). Company boats in turn carried armed retainers and muskets.41 To make matters worse, by the mid-eighteenth century, factors and servants of the Company were not only passing the goods of various private adventurers both Europeans and natives, under their flags and passes, they were also selling them clandestinely to local native traders and middlemen.42

Illicit Trade in Prized Commodities Company servants did not consider the age-old writ of the Nawab and the ruling elite over trade and commerce as lawful by English standards. For them, the handing out of Nawabi favours in particular branches of the trade was nothing short of a corrupt monopoly. It was as if royal letters patent in England were being auctioned off to the largest bidders. Vansittart was much exercised by the fact that the native government had a monopoly over the production and distribution of an article of daily necessity such as salt.43 Company officials, for the most part, refused to accept the long-standing, unwritten customs in late Mughal Bengal governing the rules of trade and patronage. Commodities such as salt, saltpetre, opium, betel nut and tobacco, as I have discussed elsewhere, were ‘prestige goods’ under the direct purview of the Nawab’s exchequer.44 During the reign of Murshid Quli Khan, the Kashimbazar Council repeatedly



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complained that salt being sent from coastal Bengal up the Ganges to Patna in boats belonging to the Company were subject to search and seizure by the Nawab’s officers of customs, causing great damage to their investment, and losses for the farmers of salt.45 It was not just the financial losses sustained by the Nawab, or by the long-established trading houses that oversaw the manufacture and distribution of such goods. The encroachment of Company servants, private adventurers and middlemen into the exclusive trade in these commodities was seen by local officials and rural zamindars as a violation of the lex loci of contemporary commercial practice. Salt was considered a luxury for the poor. It was manufactured in shallow troughs by the sea along a vast stretch of the coast of the Bay of Bengal, from Chittagong all the way down to Jaleshwar in Balasore, Odisha. Workers of costal salt pans known as Malangis were largely recruited from among poor cultivators. Some of them were tied to their labour by hereditary caste rules (ajūrā malāngīs).46 Salt workers laboured under gruelling conditions, subject to various degrees of coercion and exploitation by local zamindars who realized a share of the profits from the salt-trade and the leasing of saltpans (khālā_ris).47 Salt in contemporary parlance was also a symbol for fidelity; to have consumed someone’s salt denoted a pledge of allegiance, and to betray such a benefactor was considered an act of treachery, summed up in the commonly used term ‘betrayal of someone’s salt’ (namakhārāmī). Saltpetre was another such prized commodity. At times the fight between the Dutch, the French and the English companies over saltpetre was more intense than the competition for deals in textiles, indigo, or opium. Before the English took over Bengal, the Dutch based in Hugli enjoyed investitures from the Nawab for trade in saltpetre in Bengal and Bihar.48 In 1758, after Mir Jafar was designated as the Nawab of Bengal, through the negotiations of Robert Clive, a bulk of the saltpetre brought in by large and small retailers and dealers (pāikārs) from Bihar to Bengal came under the control of the Company.49 Saltpetre was one of the great windfalls from British acquisition of Bengal in the latter half of the eighteenth century, because it helped the English to secure a monopoly over this valuable commodity essential to the manufacture of gunpowder, and prized throughout Europe. Potassium nitrate, found in the natural state as saltpetre was a crystal leached in soil from the action of

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bacteria on organic waste such as animal droppings and urine. Along with carbon and sulphur, saltpetre was a key ingredient in the composition of gunpowder. The environs of Calcutta produced great quantities of high grade potassium nitrate. It was manufactured by an entire, hereditary caste of indigenous saltpetre makers known as the Nuniyas. It is worth noting that after the conquest of Bengal, Britain would come to control almost 70 per cent of the world’s production of saltpetre.50 Two other commodities, most commonly used together in a condiment known as pān popular throughout Bengal, were betel nut (areca nut) and betel leaf. The betel or areca nut is the berry of the areca palm (Areca catechu) which is a mild intoxicant, and the betel leaf is an edible vine (Piper betle). Pan is usually taken with shavings of areca wrapped in a betel leaf along with calcium hydroxide (lime) and spices such as cardamom, catechu and tobacco. Pān was a staple in the Bengali countryside and its habit cut across status and caste. It was also a universally recognized sign of friendship and hospitality; offerings of the leaf and nut were commonly used to seal business and political deals. A present of pān from a powerful patron to a subordinate was a customary pledge and assurance of protection.51 Leasing and farming out groves of betel-nut trees and betel leaf plantations (pān baraj) was a widespread practice in the Bengal countryside, and inventories of market duties in the district of Nadia by the Company from a later period show that market-tolls were allotted specifically for betel-nut (supārī mahal; hā]sil supārī) and betel-leaf (pān mahal).52 Opium and tobacco were also valued in similar fashion and placed above ordinary trading goods. It is hardly surprising that the widespread involvement of the English factors and their native agents in the buying and selling of these commodities, shielded indiscriminately by handwritten dispatches (dastaks and chi_t_this), created much resentment among native officials, traders and zamindars in the interior parts of the country. As Clive would observe later, a great many boats and several detachments of native sepoys had to be maintained by the Company for years prior to 1757, ready to protect the trade in salt, and native salt agents engaged by the Company in the Bengal interior.53 When the first ‘puppet’ Nawab of Bengal, Mir Jafar was deposed in 1760 he immediately issued an



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order (sanad) to all clerks (mutā]saddīs), subordinate officials (nāibs), gendarmes (fauzdārs), zamindars, commissars (chaudhurīs), recordkeepers (kānūngos), indeed all servants of the new regime across the provinces of Bengal, Bihar and Orissa, that the English were are exempt (muāf) from all duties.54 This order applied to all goods transported by Company’s native agents (gumāshtās) to or from their factories by land or by water, accompanied by a pass (dastak) from any chief an English factory. Indian agents were given the full power to buy and sell in every market and aurang. They were also freed from all levies imposed by the local zamindars, or local brokers and middlemen (dālāls), unless employed by the Company itself. Most importantly, the English were granted the ‘full power to punish’ anyone violating these orders. Despite such measures, disputes and skirmishes between agents, factors and zamindars large and small over trading rights and privileges did not end. There was a great deal of resentment over English agents levying arbitrary exactions on salt and trying to seize saltpans from local zamindars, especially in Midnapore, Burdawan and Chittagong, districts ceded to the English during the accession of Mir Qasim.55 Taken together, these districts manufactured almost two-thirds of the amount of salt consumed in Bengal. With these unprecedented concessions in the salt trade, many Company servants became, effectively, new proprietors of a number of saltpans and dealers in salt. Qasim made his displeasure known to the English about the flagrant abuse of dastaks by the English, who were also farming them out to other Europeans traders. Flying the English flag on boats, these interlopers evaded or refused tolls and duties along the main trading routes through land and water, and at the various marketplaces.56 In a carefully prepared list of demands presented to Vansittart, the Nawab stated the Company was usurping of the privileges of internal trade and causing him a huge loss of revenue. They flouted his authority in the countryside and intimidated local traders and zamindars. He asked the Company factors to stop molesting peasants, evading duties and forcibly buying below and selling above market price in the main markets. The Company’s Indian agents, he insisted, must be answerable to the officers of the Nawab. He asked the chiefs of factories to stop interfering in the manufacture and distribution

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of salt, and cease unlawful purchases of land, and the lending of money. He also wanted an end to Company agents interfering in the collection of revenue, or obstructing the work of weavers. He complained about Company officials and their native agents setting up their own estates, revenue farms, granaries and markets without sanction. He was particularly concerned about European agents infiltrating the trade in betel leaf, betel-nut, tobacco, and opium, which he pointed out, compromised the authority of the Nawab in the eyes of his subjects.57 Governor Vansittart found many of these grievances to be justified. He would later remark that one of the primary causes of the war between Mir Qasim and the Company was the usurpation of the internal trade in salt, betel-nut and tobacco by Company servants.58 Contemporary observers such as Ghulam Hussein Salim describing the circumstances of Mir Qasim’s conflict with the Company in his Riyaz-us-Salatin thought that the English were simply defrauding the Nawab.59 Qasim himself estimated that the loss of revenue in internal duties at Rs.250,000 per annum.60 When Vansittart reported the Nawab’s list of complaints to the Council, it largely fell on deaf years. Qasim’s outrage over these issues became clear during his war with the English, when, after retaking city of Patna he closed the gates of the city and laid its markets to waste.61 Soon after the deposition of Qasim, Robert Clive and other senior officials of the Company acknowledged that it was indeed the pursuit of private fortunes of servants and factors that had precipitated the crisis in trade and finance, which ultimately hurt the Company’s own profits.62 It was the ‘unwarranted and licentious’ manner in which they had carried on this private trade, violating the terms of their covenant that had led to a crisis of governance in Bengal.63 Despite such warnings, over the next few years, many servants of the Company reaped the windfall in profits from the trade in salt, betel, opium, tobacco and saltpetre, as did their native agents and confidants. For example, Francis Sykes, resident of the Murshidabad durbar secured the collection of salt duties in 1768, and a number of salt mahāls were leased by Sykes’s native agent or ‘banian’ Krishna Kanta Nandi, also known as Cantoo Baboo in the region of Hijli in southern Bengal, followed by a string of native traders and intermediaries who struck deals with various English officials of the East India Company, including members of the council



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at Fort William, Calcutta.64 Investments in these articles were finally secured by Clive through the newly established Committee of Trade, followed by the Society of Trade. Between 1770 and 1775, many senior officials of the Company continued to hold contracts in salt with local agents for quick profits. In the year 1770 alone, for example, at the custom post of Shahbanadar in Dhaka, Rs.100,654 was collected from duties levied on just salt and betel-nut. In the end, along with the consolidation of government customs, the Company government forbade the private inland trade of officials and their Indian agents.

The Fight over Tolls and Customs The end of Mir Qasim’s armed resistance, the decisive victory of the East India Company’s troops over the combined forces of Awadh, Bengal and Delhi at the Battle of Buxar (1764), and in the following year, the acquisition of the diwani from the Mughal Emperor Shah Alam II, thrust the economy and politics of Bengal into a period of great upheaval and uncertainty. It was the twilight of the old Nawabi administration and the beginning of a new regime under the indirect rule of a mercantile corporation, which was caught largely unprepared for the task of collecting the revenue of the eastern provinces of the former empire, including Bengal. An astute contemporary observer, Ghulam Husain Tabatabai in his text Sair al Mutakhirin, attributed the causes of this confusion (ikhtilāl) and administrative disorganization in Bengal, Bihar and Orissa largely to the circumstance that as traders and merchants the English did not have adequate knowledge or the right experience to run the country.65 Husain’s observations were no doubt affected by the great famine of 1770–1, which plunged Bengal and along with parts of the eastern provinces into a breakdown of day-to-day administration (bi-ni]zāmī), the devastation of the countryside (vīrān-i bilād) and rampant corruption (kharābī) of native Indian officials. While it is true that the East India Company was faced with the difficult undertaking of reorganizing the entire system of land revenue collection across the Bengal countryside, they were also engaged in an equally thorny task of reorganizing the surveillance of trading routes along major roads, thoroughfares and waterways of the eastern Gangetic plains. Given the vast watercourse of the Ganges and its

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tributaries between Benares and Calcutta, and the extensive web of distributaries cutting across deltaic Bengal, this was an expensive and time-consuming project. The effort behind this was to confront, suppress and defuse the resistance of traditional zamindars, chieftains and a host of subordinate officials who had opposed the intervention of the East India Company and its agents, and now stood in the way of the consolidation and standardization of all customs and tolls by the newly installed Company Raj. For generations, the zamindars, both large and small, had enjoyed a share of various tolls (rāhadārī) from merchandize carried by carts drawn by pack animals along roads passing through their respective domains. They had also received duties levied on boats stopped and checked at riverside landing places (ghā_t hā]sil, māngan, itrāfī). The Company resolved not to allow any added toll on goods passing by water except for the newly-established customs houses of the Company government. Regulations were approved and passed in 1788 by the Governor-General and Council that all custom duties paid by boats carrying goods and necessities to the various markets and villages along the Ganges and its major tributaries were to be consolidated without exception into a single payment of 2.5 per cent calculated on market value for all goods, unlike previous duties collected by the Nawab and local zamindars calculated on weights and volumes of various commodities. All goods landed and inspected at the various government custom houses were now to be uniformly appraised and weighed, and every package of goods (e.g. bales of hay, cotton, bags, or rice) inspected were to be stamped with the insignia of the Company’s government.66 Boats were issued a pass (chālān) and furnished with an inventory of the goods (ravānā) entered into record books. Once inspected, they were expected to pass freely without any further stoppage through Bengal, Bihar and Orissa. Along a sixty mile stretch on the Ganges between Murshidabad and Hugli, for example, custom house posts (chaukīs) were established in the cities and markets of Stewart Ganj, Kalna, Gopalnagar and Kishenganj.67 G.H. Barlow reporting on the state of trade and commerce in Benares would later declare that the consolidation of revenue from customs and the outlawing of all local tolls and levies would free up the trade from Calcutta to Benares and soon, the ‘navigation of the Ganges from the sea to its source would be freed from all obstructions, and



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the manufactures from Bengal and the exports from Europe would be transported to the heart of Hindustan at a trivial expense.’68 As the Company refused to recognize the proprietary rights of zamindars over traders and commodities passing through their territories and outlawed all species of tolls, levies and customary rights, it created an unprecedented exigency of law and order. There were repeated clashes between local militias and troops and peons of the East India Company. Zamindars and their agents apprehended for defying the new regulations imposed on customs were subjected to fines, corporal punishments, and on occasion the seizure of their estates. The Commissioner of Customs during the early years of its tenure thus had to work closely with the army and the police to enforce these regulations. Customs officials complained repeatedly that despite the efforts of the government to remove all internal check-posts and turnpikes (chaukīs and phān_ris) for the collection of tolls, zamindars were redoubling their efforts to collect duties from traders and travellers by force.69 Zamindars in concert with boatmen near the custom house of Bakhshbandar, Hugli for example, would attempt from time to time to seize boats for levies, claiming their rights under the traditional entitlement of the Bengal Nawabs over goods passing by water (mīr bahārī). Customs officials had to be particularly vigilant in Dhaka which was located at the centre of an extended network of roads and waterways, where zamindars and boatmen not only tried to stop the passage of goods by boats, but also carry out daring attacks on boats flying under the Company flag. Many such boats had to be accompanied by armed escorts, and arrests were made at riverside ghā_ts where such incidents had taken place to ensure compliance with custom regulations.70 As the territorial possessions of the East India Company expanded westwards along the course of the Ganges, newly-established police and customs outposts stretching from Patna to Benares extended the regulations passed in Bengal to the frontiers of Awadh. The integration of customs and police was a major undertaking of the early Company state and its military-fiscal order. Over time, it was able to dismantle and remove the old networks of trade and patronage established by the Bengal Nawabs, the authority of its establishment of inspectors and record- keepers (dāroghās and qānūngos), and the various claims and privileges of the zamindars and taluqdars

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of the countryside. James Mill would herald these reforms later as a significant achievement that enabled the Company to secure an uninterrupted transit of goods across the country, rescuing the trade and commerce of Bengal from the ‘rude and oppressive’ rules of the native regime, and its ‘uncivilized’ governance that allowed innumerable duties on its subjects.71 Widespread dissent against such regulations among both traders and landlords persisted in the Bengal countryside for many years to come. Many traders deprived of their former privileges and having to pay higher rates of duty on their goods resorted to the falsification of their accounts and inventories. Zamindars—such as Babu Dwarakanath of Hugi or Nityananda Chaudhuri of Ziaganj— attempted to subvert the rules, turning sometimes to attacks on ghā_ts and ferries with the help of the leaders of local boatmen, most frequently on boats plying with salt and grain between Dhaka and Murshidabad.72 Some of these attacks were acts of looting and plunder, driven largely by vendetta, and carried out by people listed in contemporary official correspondence as ‘dacoits’. One of the reasons why it was urgent to set up new police stations in Rajshahi or Midnapore was the outbreak of the Chuar rebellion, during which, leaders such as Gobardhan Dighapatia attacked police and custom outposts of the Company, as did followers who rallied around the flag of Kalai Fakir and his men attacking checkpoints and markets in the Dacca division.73 It is difficult to pinpoint whether such acts of depredation were defiant gestures of resistance against the Company stripping down of old norms of power and patronage, or new modes of brigandage spurred by the disorganization and confusion resulting from the transfer of power and administrative disorder. The fledging fiscal-military state established by the Company—before it could field an effective police force and bring such offenders to justice through a due process of law—responded to such provocations with exemplary and lethal force through its native army. In one sense, these attacks can be seen as acts of social banditry typical of the peasant societies which Eric Hobsbawm once described as ‘profoundly and tenaciously traditional’.74 In another sense, they can also be seen as visible symptoms of the general and pervasive social unrest catalysed by the growing dominance of the early colonial state and its new economic order.75



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Markets, Patronage and the Landed Elite In 1790, the Governor-General of India, Lord Cornwallis, as part of the overall resettlement of land revenue and taxation in Bengal abolished all market tolls and duties. All species of markets in Bengal, large or small—hā_ts, bāzārs, ma]n]dīs, katrās, golās, he declared, were subject to the authority of the Company’s government. This was not without precedent, Cornwallis maintained, as the administration of roads, internal trade and customs had always been the exclusive privilege of traditional regimes in India.76 Not only were zamindars, taluqdars, and farmers of revenue forbidden from levying and collecting duties from traders and articles of ‘internal manufacture and consumption’, no markets could now be established in Bengal without written permission from the government. Over time, the ‘natural effects’ of these measures, the Governor-General maintained, would facilitate the free movement of commodities and bring relief to the inhabitants of the country.77 Along with the overhaul of the entire land revenue system, they would help establish the ‘security of property’ and reward the ‘exertion and industry’ of the new subjects of British India who had a right to enjoy the fruits of their own labour.78 Marketplaces located on Ganges and its major tributaries, as has been seen earlier, had already come under the scrutiny of the collector of internal customs, directed by the Board of Trade to try and bring all tolls and levies under control. Now markets and bazaars of the interior also came under the purview of the Board of Revenue, listed under the head of ‘Sayer’ (an Anglicization of the Persian sāi’r) which was translated simply as a ‘miscellaneous’ source of taxes and revenues. Marketplaces belonged to overlapping domains of the Nawab and the zamindar in eighteenth-century Bengal, along with their extensive and unquestioned writ over fairs, pilgrimages, riverside landings, ferries and roads. These levies were being collected by a host of zamindars and intermediaries through the 1770s, irrespective of the Company’s political ascendancy and military clout. The narrative ballad Tirthamangala composed by Bijayram Sen, a physician serving the household of zamindar Krishnachandra Ghoshal who sailed up the Ganges with an entourage in 1770, gives a vivid account of the hā_ts, bāzārs, temples and pilgrimages along with their various guardians and patrons.79 In Bijayram’s description these marketplaces

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come to life with their quotidian bustle as sites of consumption, many apportioned for the upkeep of places of worship, including Sufi tombs and mosques. The act of endowing such marketplaces was still customary among the landed elite of the Bengal countryside, such as the market of Gokulganj established by his patron Krishnachandra’s brother, Gokul Ghoshal who made a fortune as the native agent (gumāshtā) of Harry Verelst, member of the Chittagong Council and later the president of the Board of Revenue.80 Bijayram also describes the various tolls and levies being collected along the ghā_ts and markets along the way, in addition to the fear of predatory zamindars and highwaymen (dakātira ha