The story of the war in which the power of the great Mahratta
confederacy was broken is one of the most stirring pages of the
campaigns which, begun by Clive, ended in the firm establishment of
our great empire in the Indian Peninsula. When the struggle began,
the Mahrattas were masters of no small portion of India; their
territory comprising the whole country between Bombay and Delhi,
and stretching down from Rajputana to Allahabad; while in the south
they were lords of the district of Cuttack, thereby separating
Madras from Calcutta. The jealousies of the great Mahratta leaders,
Holkar and Scindia, who were constantly at war with each other, or
with the Peishwa at Poona, greatly facilitated our operations; and
enabled us, although at the cost of much blood, to free a large
portion of India from a race that was a scourge faithless,
intriguing and crafty; cruel, and reckless of life. The Mahrattas,
conquering race as they were, yet failed in the one virtue of
courage. They could sweep the land with hordes of wild horsemen,
could harry peaceful districts and tyrannize over the towns they
conquered; but they were unable to make an effective stand against
British bayonets and British sabres. They were a race of
freebooters; and even the most sentimental humanitarian can feel no
regret at the overthrow of a power that possessed no single claim
to our admiration, and weighed like an incubus upon the peoples it
oppressed. The history of the Mahrattas, as written by Grant Duff,
whose account I have, throughout, followed, is one long record of
perfidy, murder, and crime of all sorts.


G. A. Henty