The first skirmish of the Anglo-Manipur War, through the eyes of a British officer’s wife. We time-travel back to 1891, following the words in her journal, as she worried about meals, a vase, and a photograph while dodging bullets in her living room.

First, a little context:

After the British helped Manipur regain their kingdom during the First Anglo-Burmese War, it became a semi-independent British protectorate. Eventually, after the death of Maharaja Chandra Kirti Singh, a power struggle erupted among his family, leading to widespread unrest. On March 24, 1891, the British residency in Manipur came under attack, and political agent Frank St. Clair Grimwood and other officials were ambushed.

Honestly, we can tell you nothing about the Anglo-Manipur War that Google or Wikipedia hasn’t already. So instead of retracing familiar ground, we wanted to share a chapter from Frank’s wife, Ethel St. Clair Grimwood’s book ‘My Three Years In Manipur And Escape From The Recent Mutiny.’

From CHAPTER XIV of the book, here is a peek of the tense air inside the residency, in Ethel’s own words:

“It was a bitterly cold morning, and quite dark. I dressed quickly, putting on a warm, tight-fitting winter dress. We had a sort of scratch breakfast of eggs and bread-and-butter about 3.30 a.m.

But most of the officers had theirs at the camp, and started from there, so that I did not know when they actually left to commence the attack. My husband accompanied Colonel Skene, much to my distress, as I thought he would have stayed at the Residency, being a civilian; but he seemed just as keen on going as the others, and I had to make the best of it. Mr. Quinton, Mr. Cossins, and I all went off to the telegraph-office, which was situated at the end of the drive, about three hundred yards from the Residency. It was well built and fairly strong, the basement being made of stone, and there was a similar building on the opposite side, which my husband used as an office for himself, the lower half of which contained the treasury. Here we took up our position, going up into the telegraph-office first to send a message to the Government of India, giving details of all that had occurred up to date. Mr. Cossins, who was acting as secretary to the Chief Commissioner, brought the telegram down, and while we were waiting and watching the Baboo (native clerk) dispatch it, we heard the first shot fired in the palace, which was followed up quickly by others, and we knew then that the fight had begun.

By this time the dawn was breaking, and streaks of daylight were dispelling the darkness around. It seemed difficult to me to realize what was really taking place.

I had heard firing in the palace so often that it seemed almost impossible to understand that a sterner game was being played now, and one which was to cost both sides so dear.

Only half the telegram had been sent, when we were startled by the sudden advent of a bullet through the office window at our elbows. It crashed through the glass, breaking it to pieces, and went into the wall opposite. My heart went to my mouth with fright, and I left the place with considerable rapidity, taking up a more secure position below, where I was fairly protected by the stone basement of the building. Mr. Cossins occupied his time in taking several journeys up to the house, where he mounted to the roof to discover whether he could see what was going on inside the palace wall; but it was impossible, as the Jubraj's house, which we knew was being attacked, was some distance off, and hidden from us by intervening buildings. It was situated near the outer wall of the palace, and our men seemed to have taken a very short time in getting up to it.

The whole palace was fortified. Five walls surrounded the Maharajah's enclosure. The outer of these was much broken, and of no great height; but the inner ones were very strong, built of brick and supplied with bastions, and they surrounded the inner palace on all four sides. On three sides of the outer wall was a canal, very deep and wide.

Pages from the book 'My Three Years In Manipur And Escape From The Recent Mutiny' by Ethel St. Clair Grimwood — `Pages from her book published by Richard Bentley and Son, London. From the archives of the CSL (Central Secretariat Library) of India.`

It was here that the great boat-races took place every year, and the water was always kept weeded and clean for those events. The whole citadel was built with a view of resisting attack in the time before Burmah was annexed, when armies of raiders used to come down upon Manipur with hostile intent; and it was a place which could easily be held against an attacking force, provided big guns were not brought to bear upon it. The Manipuris were well armed, and supplied with ammunition. The Maharajah had four mountain guns which had been presented to his father by our Government in return for services which he had rendered in times gone by. The Jubraj understood perfectly how to work these guns. We had seen him fire them himself for our amusement on an occasion already described, and we knew he would be perfectly cognizant of their powers of destruction when the opportunity occurred to bring them into play against us. Of course we, who were left at the Residency, did not know what was going on round the Jubraj's house, where all the firing seemed to come from. From time to time stray bullets came over our heads where we sat down at the telegraph-office. I thought it was very exciting then, and the little Ghoorkas, who had remained to keep guard over the place, were constantly running out on to the road in front of our entrance-gate, to see whether they could discover what was happening. They did not like being inactive at all.

About half-past ten my husband returned, and came to the treasury to get out some of the reserve ammunition which had been stored there. He only stayed a few minutes, talking to me before rejoining Colonel Skene. He told me that the Jubraj's house had been captured after a good fight, and that our men were in possession of it, and the principal gateway besides, and had taken a good many prisoners. I asked if anyone had been hurt, and he said there were grave rumours about Lieutenant Brackenbury. No one seemed to be certain of his whereabouts, while some affirmed that he had been wounded, and others that he had been killed. We were very anxious about him, but my husband said that it was all uncertain, and he might be perfectly safe all the time; and of course we hoped he was all right.

About twelve Mr. Quinton and I went up to the house, but long before going he had made another attempt to get the telegram to the Government of India dispatched, and had found that the wires had been cut on all sides, so all hope of communication from that source was abandoned.

We were rather hungry by twelve, as no one had eaten much at the hasty repast at three in the morning, and we were very glad of some hot tea and sandwiches now.

I went on a voyage of discovery round the house. One or two servants still remained, but they seemed very frightened, and were saying many prayers to their gods for their safety. A stray bullet or so had hit the walls of the house, knocking off some of the plaster, but otherwise everything looked the same as usual.

We returned to the office in about an hour, after I had seen that all the preparations for lunch were made. The cook had departed, but the bearer and I between us managed to get things ready in a fashion. I took a book to read with me, and busied myself in that manner until, about one o'clock, Colonel Skene and some of his officers, with my husband, returned from the scene of action. Our first inquiries were for Mr. Brackenbury, and then it became evident that something serious had happened to him, and all our fears were aroused. After that, things seemed to assume quite a different aspect, for the officers were all talking so gravely together, and did not seem quite satisfied with the way things were going.

However, we went back to the Residency to get something to eat. All had returned with the exception of Mr. Simpson and Captain Butcher, who were still at the Jubraj's house, and Mr. Brackenbury, whose exact whereabouts were unknown. We had commenced lunch, when my husband asked me if I would give orders that some food should be sent to the two officers who were not able to leave their posts, and I went away to a little room adjoining the dining-room and commenced cutting sandwiches for them, as the servants had disappeared, and one had to get everything for one's self or go without.

I had been busily engaged for about ten minutes, when I heard a sound which filled me with alarm, and a bullet crashed through the window above my head.

It frightened me more than the one at the telegraph-office had done, and I dropped my knife, left the sandwiches as they were, and rushed into the dining-room. All the officers meanwhile had gone out, and had found that the Manipuris had crept round to the back of the Residency and commenced an attack upon us, using as cover the Naga village which lay between our grounds and the river. This was a clever move on their part, and it was some time before the troops could drive them back, as most of our men were engaged in holding the posts inside the palace captured early in the morning, and this left only a small guard for the Residency, treasury offices, and Sepoys' camp. Eventually our party set fire to the Naga village, and drove the Manipuris out. Bullets had made their way through the window-panes and doors of the dining-room, and had smashed some of the breakfast-things and the glass on the sideboard. It was difficult to find out the most secure place in the house, as the firing was hot in the front of the Residency by this time, and the walls, being only lath and plaster, were little or no protection.

My husband suggested my descending to the cellars, which were under the house and built of stone; but I did not like the idea, and remembered how scornful I had been when we had talked over matters weeks before, and he had joked about the snug corner he would make ready for me in the basement of the house. So I made up my mind to remain above-board, so to speak, until the worst came to the worst. It was heartrending to see the work of destruction which was proceeding in the different rooms meanwhile.

The windows were broken, and every now and then bullets crashed into the rooms, smashing different things — first a picture, then a vase, then a photograph.

All my beloved household goods seemed coming to grief under my very eyes, and I was powerless to save them. We did try to collect some of the most valuable of our belongings together and put them away in a heap in the durbar room, which at that time had escaped with only one broken pane; but it was dangerous work going into the front rooms to remove them, for as the afternoon went on the firing became hotter, and bullets rained into the house at every second.

It must have been about half-past four that the big guns began to be played against us. It had been found necessary to concentrate the whole of our force on the Residency and out-buildings, such as the treasury and offices, and this entailed abandoning all the positions captured in the early part of the day inside the outer wall of the palace, and bringing all the men together. The wounded had to be recovered from all directions and conveyed to the hospital, which was some distance from the Residency.

A view of the British residency during the Anglo-Manipur conflict of 1891 — `Life Magazine; artist's impression; a view of the British residency, defended by the 'Goorkhas' on March 24th, 1891. Source: Imphal Review of Arts and Politics.`

Lieutenant Brackenbury had been discovered lying on the bank of the river which flowed north of the palace, where he had fallen shortly after the attack was made early in the morning. He had mistaken the direction, having got the wrong side of the wall near the Jubraj's house, from which point he had been exposed to a heavy fire from the enemy.

It was only a marvel that he was still alive when eventually discovered, for he had remained where he fell the whole of that day, and the Manipuris had never ceased firing at him as he lay. When his exact whereabouts did become known, it was a difficult and dangerous task to remove him. Efforts had been made by some of the Sepoys to drag him away, and a native officer had been mortally wounded in the attempt. At last, about four o'clock in the afternoon, he was rescued and brought into the hospital, and it was found that he had received terrible injuries, being wounded in several places.

The sound of the first shell which whizzed over the Residency made me speechless with terror. I had heard the boom of the guns in the morning, and knew that they had been used to try and drive Captain Butcher's party out of the Jubraj's house, which had been captured; but they had sounded some distance off, and I had not realized how terrible they could be until they were turned against our own house.

The cellars were by this time unavoidable. My husband told me that we should have to make some sort of rough hospital in one of them, as the Residency hospital, where the wounded had been taken, was built of plaster and would not be bullet-proof; so we set to work to get blankets and sheets down from the house, and everything we thought might be useful.

Meanwhile shells were doing dreadful damage over our heads, and we were afraid they might set fire to the thatch and force us out of our temporary shelter.

Luckily most of them went over the house into the garden at the back, where they could not do such serious damage; but the noise the guns made, added to the other firing, which had never ceased, was deafening.

There was not the slightest doubt by this time that our position was about as bad as it could very well be. I seemed paralyzed with fear, and it was only by forcing myself to do something, and never thinking or imagining for one moment what the end of it all might be, that I kept my senses sufficiently to be able to make an effort to help the rest. I heard that the wounded were to be brought up to the house immediately, as the hospital was getting too hot for them to remain in it. Poor fellows! they had endured so much as it was in getting there, that it seemed very hard to be obliged to move them again so soon, and take them up to the Residency.

There were a good many of us in the cellar by this time — Mr. Quinton, Colonel Skene, my husband and myself, Mr. Cossins, and Mr. Gurdon. It was about seven o'clock, and a lovely evening. The sun was just setting, and the red glow of the sky seemed to illuminate the landscape around and the faces of the colonel and my husband as they stood in the doorway talking together in low tones. It was no difficult matter to read what was written on both their faces, and I did not dare ask what was going to happen.

At last my husband came and told me that we were to leave the Residency, and try and find our way to Cachar.”

(Reprints of the book are still available today. It's an interesting lens into the state of the north-east at the time, captured through her words. Here's an amazon link: My Three Years In Manipur And Escape From The Recent Mutiny by Ethel St. Clair Grimwood)

`The ruins of the British Residency after the Anglo-Manipur conflict of 1891. Source: Manipur Informative Gallery, Facebook`

Though penned from the vantage point of a colonial officer's wife, this memoir provides a crucial window for us to see what happened at the residency on the day of the attack. Her descriptions are vivid, and a peephole into nineteenth-century north-east India which was largely inaccessible and undocumented at the time.

`A Photograph of Frank Grimwood, Ethel's husband, eventually killed in the conflict. Source: Royal Collection Trust.`

For those curious about the political nuances of the period, Caroline Keen’s **‘An Imperial Crisis in British India: The Manipur Uprising of 1891’** is a compelling read. The preface includes a quote by Rosie Llewellyn-Jones, which sums it up quite nicely:

“..the Manipur incident, though small scale, is important, because it shows that it was impossible to work out a "one size fits all" pattern for the government of India in dealing with the Native States, that is, those not under direct Government of India rule. In its dealings with Manipur, the government got it wrong on all counts - it was a classic British fudge of ignoring the man nearest to the situation, Frank Grimwood, and getting boxed into a corner from which there was no retreat..”

Bullets for breakfast, sandwiches for lunch.