Abstract
The literature relating to the nature, scope and legacy of the engagement of the Mughals with the maritime space in the early modern era is beset with certain inadequacies. The consensus has it that a sophisticated commercial system functioned along the Gujarat coast, centred at Surat, largely independent of the presence of the Mughals per se in the region. This article re-examines the role of the Mughals to reveal a more dynamic picture that accounts for the paradoxes that riddle current understanding of this vital aspect of Mughal history.
It has long been contended that the Mughals, who were the dominant political force on the Indian sub-continent from the 1520s to the mid-eighteenth century, largely focused their attention on continental activities and therefore had little interest in seaborne trade, shipping and maritime policy in general. A major contribution to this perception has been made by Pearson, who argued that the Mughals, much like the Sultanate of Gujarat before them, displayed a distinct lack of concern for maritime space and a scant regard for the plight of the merchants who, in the absence of state support, had to bear the brunt of European interventions in long-established, traditional commercial operations. 1 Pearson substantiates his position by indicating an utter lack of any effort on part of the state to regulate seaborne trade in the manner in which it controlled land-based commerce.
To extrapolate a sense of maritime obtuseness from this lack of regulation is unfair. It is important to bear in mind that that control of sea trade had never been a general feature of commerce along the western coast of India. The inherent dynamism of the commercial economy of the region, moreover, was sufficient to meet the requirements of all stakeholders without any push from the state. And, lastly, the naval inadequacies of the Mughals militated against any push in this direction, which was sure to be counter-productive and ineffective.
At the same time it is significant to note that, contrary to general perception, from the very beginning, the Mughals evinced a keen realisation of the opportunities that their entrenchment in the region entailed: their immediate interests lay in the appropriation of the Hajj for political purposes, 2 channelling bullion inflows to the nodes of exchange economy, securing supplies of strategic goods, such as horses, and, more importantly, living up to the mandate of sovereignty by championing the interests of local mercantile elements. At this initial stage, the strategic significance of maritime variables predominated. But as new connections were forged, it was not long before the commercial element progressively came into sharper focus to align with the regime’s strategic interests. Cumulatively, they determined the Mughal perception of the maritime space.
Nothing illustrates the cohabiting of strategic and commercial interests better than the Hajj. It is important to remember that the religiosity associated with the Hajj reverberated only amongst Muslim subjects; in contrast, for people of other denominations the real attraction of the pilgrimage lay in the immense economic opportunities it presented. 3 Ashin Das Gupta has observed that a poor Hajj depressed business in the farthest points of Surat’s hinterland. 4 Further, the hajj-induced market served as a conduit for the supply of vital goods like horses and bullion into the Mughal domains. Pedro Teixeira wrote that the merchandize and money brought to Hijaz by caravans from across the Levant passed on to India, 5 while the testimonies of various observers indicate that great quantities of bullion flowed into Mughal domains due to the Hajj. 6 For instance, in the first quarter of the seventeenth century, Edward Terry puts the figure at ‘two hundred thousand pounds sterling, most of it in gold and silver’. 7 Likewise, John Fryer refers to the Mughal pilgrim fleet ‘bringing Fifty Leques worth of Rupees in Cash’ in the late 1670s, 8 while Khafi Khan, some 20 years later, states that Ganj-i-Sawai, an imperial vessel returning from ‘the House of God’, had ‘fifty-two lakhs of rupees in silver and gold’. 9 These figures speak of only such goods and bullion that came aboard imperial fleets, and do not include figures for non-royal ships. 10 Given the sums involved, it is obvious that the state had a material interest in facilitating this spiritual sojourn. Moreover, with the onset of financial difficulties in the last quarter of the seventeenth century, the significance of such vital resource generation could only have increased for the Mughals.
As far as the bullion inflows are concerned, the Mughal emperors remained alert to every opportunity to strengthen them so much so that successive European embassies to the Mughal court sought to gain royal favours by referring to the contribution their people made to the ‘enrichment of the Mogull’s treasury’, 11 and how ‘their traffic with Hindoustan was most advantageous to that kingdom; exhibiting a long list of articles purchased by their countrymen, for which they showed that the gold and silver brought by them every year into the Indies amounted to a considerable sum’. 12 The cumulative effect of having a hegemon guaranteeing the long-term security, coupled with the inherent vitality of a vigorous hinterland generating variegated articles of trade, resulted in an unprecedented inflow of bullion into the Mughal dominions. Historians have shown that bullion inflows into the Mughal domains during the seventeenth century were staggering by any estimate. 13 This bullion was not for personal enrichment alone; rather it was instrumental in stimulating and then sustaining the production exchange process vital to the agrarian economy of the Mughal empire. In this context, it was critical for the Mughals to work towards ensuring the sustainability of such flows by formulating a coherent policy with respect to maritime activities. A hands-off approach would have jeopardised the security of the state.
Further still, bullion and exotica of different hues had strategic implications for the state in that the possession of goods from diverse places emphasised the sophistication and all-encompassing outlook of the sovereign. Speaking of a similar tendency among the Safavids, Chardin noted that this acquisitiveness was designed ‘to make the people believe, that their King is reverenc’d throughout the Universe, and that from all Parts, Homage is pay’d him, by Ambassadors and Presents’. 14 On some occasions, the commodities procured from different regions were forwarded as gifts via diplomatic embassies to neighbouring states so as to ‘emphasize the international importance of their sender’. 15 Indeed, the European accounts of the period contain references to Mughal officials offering the Europeans certain concessions in return for their help in procuring consignments of exotic and luxury commodities. 16
The Mughals also felt compelled to keep abreast of maritime developments because of the debilitating impact forced disruptions had on different constituents of their population. 17 Since they were sensitive in their projection of themselves, and eloquent in their paternalistic concern for their subjects, the Mughals did not cower behind the cliché of maritime indifference. That they responded positively to difficult situations is apparent in the contemporary accounts of Ovington and Hamilton, where there is an appreciation of the ire of the Emperor ‘because of the misery of so many of his subjects’, 18 while on another occasion we find the Dutch conspiring to cause damage to the Indian merchants so as to extract concessions agreeable to them from the Mughal court. 19 Even Subramanian admits to the fact that the Mughals tried hard to live up to their regal mandate and never neglected ‘the responsibility of keeping the seas safe for the city merchants’. 20
Another vital Mughal investment in maritime channels was embodied in steady supplies of horses. More than anything else, the Mughals needed regular replenishment of horses for the sustenance of their authority. The cavalry formed the backbone of the Mughal army and the Mughals therefore gave serious attention to its provisioning. But the lack of good supplies locally made it expedient for them to rely upon commercial channels to procure the requisite reserves. Consequently, supplies of horses were channelled through overland as well as overseas routes. According to Gommans, both overland and maritime routes stood in complementary relation to each other, although in the seventeenth century, for certain reasons, the maritime routes held the slight edge. 21
Thus, it may be submitted that assessments of the Mughal approach to maritime space have suffered from their unfair comparison with the nature of European enterprise and the propensity to juxtapose their overland accomplishments with maritime interventions. Both of these suppositions do great injustice to the historical role of the Mughals in the light of maritime trajectory of the region. Notwithstanding their lack of curiosity about geographical matters, 22 the pursuit by Mughals of ventures designed to preserve the incumbent political order serve as vital pointers to the nature of Mughal investment in the region and the magnitude of its significance.
Mughals, Europeans and the ‘maritime dynamic’
Following the conquest of Gujarat, and especially given the unique political landscape along the coast, it was always going to be politically difficult for the Mughals to come to terms with a situation where the victories secured by the armies were territorially intact, but jurisdictionally constrained. The consolidation of Mughal power coincided with the arrival in the region of the English and the Dutch, both of whom were determined to force their way into trading networks at the expense of established players. The Europeans’ preferred mode of commercial operations went against the traditional ecumene milieu of the region: they were exclusivist, always trying to aggrandize and monopolize. Thus, the instability that accompanied the second wave of European intrusion into Asian waters threatened to undermine the economic potential of the area and disturb the political fabric of the state because of the apparent limitations of the Mughals in protecting local mercantile interests against European aggression.
The Mughal authorities therefore set a twin agenda: justifying the expectations of the people who anticipated economic spin-offs in the shade of the Mughal political canopy over the region, 23 and the related challenge of coming to the rescue of local mercantile elements against the competing interests of their resourceful and belligerent competitors. Thus, from the outset, the Mughals remained alert to the nature of European presence. That the potential threat emanating from a failure to impose limits on the scope of European ambitions in Mughal India was being deliberated upon by the Mughal policy-makers emerges when John Mildenhall, a self-appointed power broker acting in the interests of the English East India Company, took strong exception to the rumours floated around by the Jesuits, saying ‘that under colour of marchandise wee [the English] would invade your country and take some of your forts and put Your Majestie to great trouble’. 24 Apprehensive of the fall-out of such a suspicion, he gave an elaborate and passionate defence of English intentions. 25
Notwithstanding Mildenhall’s claims of English innocence, the Mughals were aware of the inherent paradox in his spirited defence, which was betrayed when Henry Middleton, incensed at repeated obstructions to English interests caused by coastal officials, roared that:
his ordinance is far inferior to mine … Though I should fire the Town and beat it smooth about their ears, whether it be pleasing or displeasing to the Great Mogor, I care not, I am out of the reach of his long sword.
26
The aggressive posture of the English was still no match for the belligerence of the entrenched Portuguese. By the time the English came, the Portuguese already considered themselves to be masters of the maritime space. Hawkins got a taste of it immediately after his arrival in Indian waters when, after a Portuguese attack on him, he was curtly told that the ‘Indian Seas belonged exclusively to Portugal’. 27 In fact, they acted as a regional hegemon and looked askance at the Mughals’ arrival on the scene. However, in the Mughals they found a resolute and resourceful adversary, unlike the deposed regional Sultanates. It is not surprising therefore that they abandoned their nascent plans to capture the fort of Surat in the confusion of the Mughal invasion. 28 This withdrawal, however, must not be construed as submission to Mughal authority. It meant nothing more than a grudging acknowledgement of superior territorial strength, because at that moment the Mughals seemed utterly incapable of enforcing their will on the high seas. This intricate situation called for a mature and calibrated response, since the absence of commensurate naval firepower exposed the vulnerability of the Mughals. In the end, the Mughals rose to the challenge by deciding to play to their strengths.
The course charted by the Mughals was nothing less than a strategic masterstroke, which enabled them to shape the maritime destiny of the region in the seventeenth century. Firstly, in order to bolster their credentials in the face of their failure to emulate the success of the Ottomans in the region under a century ago, they floated the idea of distinctive continental and maritime sovereignties. The former was to be monopolised by the Mughals, whereas the latter was to be fought over by the competing European claimants. 29 Secondly, the Mughals set about resolutely deploying their continental pre-eminence in safeguarding the interests of the state and its constituents. Thus, in effect, the resolution of sovereignty did not entail submission to European superiority on the high seas. On the contrary, it afforded the Mughals a circuitous path to assert themselves by leveraging their continental prowess and reducing the maritime aggression of the Europeans to mere isolated blips, rather than a concerted challenge to Mughal authority.
As an illustration, we may study the unusually sharp response of the Mughals to Portuguese encroachment at Hugli. This encounter has been attributed by Abdul Hamid Lahori to two factors: first, the religious conversions carried out by Portuguese missionaries; and, second, their fortification of the place. 30 That both developments proved potent enough to elicit a swift and hard response, whereas the spurt in piracy in the last quarter of the seventeenth century failed to invoke a similarly robust reaction, remains hard to reconcile. Lahori explains this in terms of the integrity of the sovereign space of the Mughals. Both conversions and fortifications have implications for the security of any political set-up. Thus, the centrepiece of the Mughal policy was the resolve never to brook any European attempts to impinge on their continental sphere. Establishing the political disenfranchisement of the Europeans within the Mughal dominions as the cornerstone of their efforts to repel the surging waves of European mercantilism proved strategically astute as it not only took the wind out of the sails of the European armadas and imploded their preferred model of trade, but it also rallied the local and non-European mercantile population to the Mughal cause. As well as the encounter at Hugli, a number of instances illustrate the intolerance of the Mughals to the slightest pretence at sovereignty:
First, the humiliation of the English in war with the Mughals in the 1680s was an instance of the latter smoking out the embers of political ambitions of the former. 31
Second, the Mughals were reluctant to collaborate with Europeans in any aspect of administration. Accordingly, when the spurt in piracy in the late seventeenth century distressed merchants and shipowners, the Mughals chose to enlist the Siddis as their naval arm and only allowed the Europeans to participate in convoying. In the light of repeated embassies by the Europeans, especially the Dutch, asking for concessions or administered monopsony, the Mughals could have easily asked one of them to perform naval duties in lieu of favourable concessions. However, the authorities were aware of the attendant dangers and were more comfortable playing one off against the other.
Third, if we scrutinise the tenor of negotiations following the end of any conflict, it is evident that the Mughals were acutely conscious of maintaining the power distance. So, while Europeans repeatedly referred to their contribution to local prosperity and obedience to the spirit of the original charter, the Mughals purposely did not breathe a word about earlier transgressions of the Europeans and were content to discipline their waywardness as a matter of routine.
The political submission to the Mughals was not the only fetter imposed upon the Europeans. Taking a cue from their masters, the local mandarins fervently took to their role as the vanguard. For instance, when, in 1697, an English ship, sailing without first procuring a license in England, dropped anchor at Swally, the menacing English officials were left in the lurch when the mutasaddi reminded them that they had no locus standi on the issue. 32 Similarly, the blatant interference by Mir Musa, the Mughal mutasaddi of Surat, in the matters of succession in the Council at Surat reflected a state apparatus not necessarily in awe of the perceived strengths of an incompatible alien force. 33 Likewise, Khafi Khan, during a conversation with an Englishman following the ransacking of Ganj-i-Sawai in 1695, said, ‘you must recall to mind that the hereditary Kings of Bijapur and Haidarabad and the good-for-nothing Sambha have not escaped the hands of King Aurangzeb. Is this island of Bombay a sure refuge?’ 34 Ancillary to the projection of political power, the Mughals also inaugurated the construction of naval facilities. 35
Having established their political supremacy, the Mughals were now perfectly poised to exploit situational leverage in the diplomatic negotiations and structural gaps in the economic system to fortify their basic agenda: drawing upon their continental strengths and tactical superiority to see through the fulfilment of their strategic interests and simultaneously undercutting, as far as possible, the leverage that Europeans may have otherwise enjoyed by virtue of their naval vigour. Hence, it is reasonable to infer that the political stranglehold served more as a means to an end, rather than an end in itself. It ensured that in conflict after conflict the Mughals were able to manage situations to their advantage.
Thus, if we analyze the nature of Mughal-European interactions through the course of the seventeenth century, we realize that despite their minimal naval deterrence and brittle maritime defences, the Mughals still managed to prevent the Europeans from dictating terms. As Chaudhuri asserts, the success of the Mughal military machine taught the East India Company the crucial lesson that ‘naval warfare was far more useful to the Europeans as a deterrent than as a tactical weapon’. 36
The Mughals, for their part, were aware of the limits of their successes and chose not to overplay their hand. 37 Indeed, apart from being militarily impossible, it was not in their interests to rely too much on a single company. Having greater players gave them more leeway in their negotiations with the Europeans. They were content with a situation in which their continental capacities allowed them to make favourable deals with the Europeans, and through the seventeenth century they, by and large, succeeded in having their way. 38
As hinted earlier, the success of the Mughals in this respect was not entirely a product of their political adroitness. They benefitted immensely from the situational leverages over the Europeans in Asian waters and structural gaps in the economic system. First, the constrained scope of action available to the Europeans in Asia on account of the limited latitude for political manoeuvre afforded to them by company directors in Europe redounded to the benefit of the Mughals. The refusal of directors to countenance prolonged disruption of commercial operations stemming from a political stalemate or protracted negotiations stymied the response of Europeans in India. A despatch from Court of Directors to Bombay in 1738 reads: ‘The society whom you serve are a company of Trading Merchants and not Warriors’. 39 Fear of censure and recall acted as an inbuilt inhibitor, marring their efforts to translate their naval leverage into any commensurate political and economic gains. 40
Second, there were instances when council members failed to agree on a common course of action in response to an unfolding problem. For instance, in the wake of the mutasaddi’s seizure of small English vessels and other prohibitive orders on account of some tiff, the then President, Matthew Andrews, advocated an armed response. But he was overruled by his council members, who ‘were determined that his impetuosity should not rush them into disaster’,
41
with one council member, Mr. Forster, reminding him of the dangers of this double-edged policy by stating:
that hee did not think it fitting, neither would he consent, that wee should meddle with any their jounks; for that when former Presidents have done so and brought these people to a new agreement, yet have the Company still been losers, they having been forct to pay more money upon these peoples demounds then was taken in their jouncks.
42
Since the disruption of commercial networks as a bargaining chip hinged on the ability of Europeans to convince the Mughals of their seriousness in relocating elsewhere, their apparent inability to do so indicated the weakness of their position in any negotiations.
Third, the critical necessity of sticking to a schedule in order to retain the viability of their commercial ventures was another major factor that contributed to the weakness of European position vis-a-vis the Mughals in most of their diplomatic stand-offs. The protracted negotiations were anathema for those struggling to meet the unalterable deadlines imposed by geographical conditions. 43
Fourth, the European response was constrained by the availability of ships to give credence to their threats. As commercial entities, companies encouraged the deployment of their vessels in meeting their naval needs in the vast theatre of the Indian Ocean region and beyond. This, however, sometimes led to situations where they failed to avail their services at critical situations on account of the vessels being engaged elsewhere. 44
Fifth, the critical necessity of ensuring sustained commerce worked to the disadvantage of the Europeans in so far as it did not allow them to acquire an ascendancy over the Mughals that could be commensurate with their effective strength. Conversely, the ability of the Mughals to tolerate a cessation of trade relatively unscathed acted as an ace up their sleeves in dealing with the Europeans. 45 This facet of the Mughal political economy was grasped by Pietro Della Valle, who saw through the futility of English attacks on Mughal junks as compensation for losses incurred by them at the hands of Mughal coastal officials. 46 He understood better than most of his European contemporaries the travails impairing European efforts to carve out a space commensurate with their naval prowess in the political economy of the Mughal Empire.
Sixth, fierce competition amongst the different European players played into the hands of the Mughals. Despite receiving multifarious proposals to devolve their entire trade to one player to the exclusion of others, the Mughals refused to entertain them and felt more content letting them out-compete each other in winning royal favours. It proved to have a spill-over effect and when during crisis a belligerent player sought to act upon his threat of disrupting trade or blockading a port, the fierce opposition from other players diluted the magnitude of crisis. 47 For example, the Dutch embassy to the Mughal court requesting the exclusion of the English happened to occur when English goodwill was at its lowest. 48
Seventh, the interconnectedness of the western Indian Ocean raised another irritant for the Europeans that weakened them vis-a-vis the Mughals. The centrality of coastal Gujarat to the entire trading system of the western Indian Ocean region was critical. As a logical corollary, disturbances in the area caused by a particular company reverberated in far flung places and incurred for the complicit party adverse treatment in different termini of trade. 49
The functioning of the aforementioned variables, incubated by the political preponderance of the Mughals, constituted the crux of what might be called the Mughal ‘maritime dynamic’. The use of the word ‘dynamic’ is purposive because the nature of Mughal response was never monolithic and uniform. Instead, it was conditioned by the degree of a given transgression as understood by the state. Thus, the Mughal ‘maritime dynamic’ was more in the mould of deterrence than a tool of aggression. It functioned at a very high level of equilibrium, so much so that long after the dynastic rule of the Mughals had ceased the dynamic continued apace. It constituted two elements: personal, typified in political closure of ranks behind the Mughals, and impersonal, functionalised by strategic autonomy. However, the personal element served as the foundation for the impersonal, and in the eighteenth century the alteration of the political landscape rendered this element dysfunctional, thereby endangering not only the dynamic, but also its preserve.
Notwithstanding the opportunities afforded by the ‘maritime dynamic’, the Mughals were aware of the dangers of overplaying this card. They were realistic about their objectives and harboured no intentions of going on a wild goose chase by trying to drive the European menace from the waters of the western Indian Ocean. Moreover, it was not lost on the Mughals that the fruits of the ‘maritime dynamic’ would only be availed if the Europeans were allowed to participate in Indian trade. Any other myopic political mis-step was bound to be the last straw that would break the camel’s back and induce the Europeans to attack Mughal shipping.
Mughal caution may be explained by five factors. First, as has been pointed out by Ahsan Jan Qaisar, despite being as good shippers as the Europeans, the Indians could never match up to them in the use of guns. 50 While the state did equip ships with guns, they were generally ineffective. Edward Terry, speaking about Mughal ships, says that ‘though they have good ordnance, (they) cannot well defend themselves’. 51 Mughal accounts concur with this assessment. Describing the cowardice displayed by the captain of Ganj-i-Sawai during its capture by the English, Khafi Khan wrote that ‘there were so many weapons on board the royal vessel that if the captain had made any resistance, they [the English] must have been defeated. But as soon as the English began to board, Ibrahim Khan, the captain, ran down in the hold’. 52 So, some kind of a psychological fear in facing the Europeans on the high seas cannot be ruled out.
Second, the logistical problem of the besieged having continued access to supplies by way of maritime routes limited the effectiveness of Mughal sieges of European coastal bases. 53 Third, the Mughals were constrained by the pressure exerted on them by mercantile classes and coastal officials to come to a compromise with the Europeans. During hostilities Indian ships plying the sea lanes invariably risked European aggression. 54 This apprehension was grasped by an English official, who boasted: ‘no doubt the efforts of his colleagues to smooth over matters was seconded on the other side by the principal merchants of Surat, who were nervous lest the incoming junks should be seized’. 55
Fourth, recurrent conflagrations with the Safavids did not lead to the cessation of overland trade, but, in addition to being more expensive, it did serve to amplify the perception of the threat. Conversely, the commencement of greater partnerships between the Europeans and Indians added to the appeal of maritime traffic, for the presence of Europeans acted as an insurance against any harassment on the high seas, thereby undercutting the propensity of overland transport further. 56 During wartime, these merchants, in turn, endeavoured to impress upon the ruling class the desirability of coming to a quick agreement with the Europeans. Also, the Mughal officials, for their own gains, sought to promote maritime, and discourage overland, trade. 57
Fifth, the Hajj continued to be a major tool for the Mughals until the very end of their interface with the maritime realm. 58 In fact, the renaming of Surat as Bandar-i-Mubarak is symptomatic of its importance. Given this background, it was far cheaper for the Mughals to send their royal largesse and state-sponsored contingent of pilgrims overseas than it was to use overland routes. Francisco Pelsaert, talking of this cost differential, noted that ‘the profits cannot stand the great costs of overland transit compared to those of our sea carriage’. 59
To sum up, one can say that the Mughal perception of the maritime space became increasingly monetised during the course of the seventeenth century. Starting when the scope of their geographical vision was confined to the Hejaz, it gradually evolved and extended to include Southeast Asia. The strategic underpinnings of the former came to increasingly cohabit with the purely commercial component of the latter. The political elite were alive to the importance of open shipping lanes for their dynastic stability. Successive Mughal emperors displayed a concern for the promotion of trade and the profits it generated. All this, however, does not negate the apparent weakness of their position because of their emasculated naval capabilities, although this lacuna did not affect them adversely for the resilient commercial channels, and a vibrant and dynamic mercantile community, ensured a steady supply of requisite articles, viz. bullion, horses and exotic goods. This immunization, however, did not prevent them from endeavouring to build up a naval deterrence, which ultimately did not prove successful. The faltering initiative was supplemented by the enlistment of the Siddis of Janjira on the Mughal pay-roll. 60 Nothing, in the end, proved sufficient to achieve some sort of a naval parity with the Europeans. Still, an adroit handling of the evolving situation via the aforementioned ‘maritime dynamic’ allowed the Mughals to remain the preeminent force in the eastern half of the western Indian Ocean. Notwithstanding repeated references in the European sources to Mughal maritime weakness, an analysis of their negotiations with the Europeans indicates their resilience, and they must be credited for checking the spread of European mercantilism in the political economy of Mughal India during the seventeenth century.
The Mughal ‘maritime dynamic’ in the eighteenth century
In the eighteenth century, confusion in the heartland, steep erosion of imperial oversight, rabid intra-official rivalries and frequent Maratha inroads tore to shreds the insignia of Mughal patronage. This state of political flux reflected itself in an immediate, albeit impermanent, dip in trade, without significantly altering the maritime dynamic carried over from the previous century. Perhaps the anticipation of a revival in fortunes, relatively unscathed local administration and unaltered strategic weaknesses coalesced to produce the only bright spot in stressed circumstances.
The situation started to change drastically from the 1740s and 1750s, with the involvement of Europeans in political squabbles. This is not to suggest that the Europeans had not interfered in the political arena earlier. However, the difference between then and now lay in the fundamental fact that earlier interventions were forced by collective efforts to cancel out a collective crisis; for example, the sack of Surat in 1664 or numerous similar interventions in the eighteenth century. But now the Europeans were mounting cases for their favoured candidates to be appointed to important positions in port administrations. Their involvement became increasingly political and personalised and once this ball was set rolling, it was in the nature of things that there would be no turning back because of the high stakes involved.
The intertwining of the interests of the companies with their respective candidates made it obvious that the loser in the political game would also lose on the economic front. In fact, the fear of being marginalised by commercial rivals had always affected the companies. It is no surprise then that the involvement of the English at Surat was intensified by Dutch support for one of the candidates. 61 Until this stage, far removed from the exercise of political power, the Europeans, instead of seeking ways to transfer real authority into their hands, were more content with riding on the shoulders an incumbent of their candidate. This political reticence was not through strategic choice, but brought about by circumstances. The long functioning Mughal ‘maritime dynamic’ had resulted in the internalisation of several standard operating procedures in the manuals of governance, the most prominent of which was the clampdown on territorial assets – physical and human – of the Europeans and the consequent disruption of their regular supply channels. It was so effective that it silenced the English in the face of the authorities at Cambay as late as 1753. 62 Indeed, long after the ‘maritime dynamic’ had died out, we find an official not just fondly recalling this modus operandi but also advising the English to do the same against the French. 63 In addition, logistical challenges also took the wind out of the sails of the political ambitions of English through the lack of sufficient forces at opportune times, 64 and operational capabilities on land. As for the latter, it is revealing to learn that in the 1730s, the English allied with the Siddis and explicitly asked them to cover their territorial flank by expressing their weakness in doing the same while launching a joint campaign against the Angrias. 65
Here it is important to reiterate that the political affairs at Surat differed from the norm in that the Europeans found it difficult to remove competitors in favour of total control over trade. The vigilance of Mughal oversight held them in check but the baser instincts were never extinguished completely and expressed itself at the first availabke opportunity. For example, in the 1750s, when tension was building up in political circles, the English were already planning to disrupt the shipping network of local merchants well before the victorious summer of 1759. 66 In this context, the inability of local officials to appreciate the fundamental need of strategic autonomy, as championed by the Mughals, set in motion a chain of events that spelled doom for Surat as well as the ‘maritime dynamic’. The multiplicity of claimants vying for limited posts in the local administration precipitated the worst of centrifugal tendencies that climaxed when the different factions requested support from the English, Dutch and the feared Marathas. However, seeking out the Marathas led to consolidation of popular and mercantile support in favour of English, 67 who had firmed up their political base and proceeded cautiously to profit from the paralysing crisis of authority. 68
This legitimisation of the exercise of political power by the Europeans knocked off the cornerstone of the ‘maritime dynamic’. Having installed their candidate in the hot seat, the English set about addressing many of their weaknesses, which had once made it possible for a relatively inferior Nawab of Cambay to make them do his bidding. It is enlightening to consider that while it took them a decade of halting convictions to carry through the Castle Revolution, the first offer having been made in 1751, 69 the swift fall of Broach and Cambay came soon after and marked the end of the ‘maritime dynamic’. Ironically, however, even at the moment of their political triumph, the English had displayed many of the same vulnerabilities that had made it possible for the Mughals to turn the tables on them. 70
Footnotes
1.
M.N. Pearson, Merchants and Rulers in Gujarat (New Delhi, 1976), 57–91.
2.
The political utilisation of the Hajj has been dealt with in great length by Suraiya Faroqhi, Pilgrims and Sultans: The Hajj under the Ottomans, 1517–1683 (London, 1994). See also, Simon Digby, ‘Bayazid Beg Turkman’s Pilgrimage to Mecca and Return to Gujarat: A Sixteenth Century Narrative’, Iran, 42 (2004), 159–77.
3.
For a detailed exposition on the economic potential of the Hajj and the involvement of Indians in it, see M.N. Pearson, Pious Passengers: The Hajj in Earlier Times (Delhi, 1994).
4.
Ashin Das Gupta, Indian Merchants and the Decline of Surat, 1700–1750 (New Delhi, 1994), 68–9.
5.
Pedro Teixeira (translated by William Sinclair), The Travels of Pedro Teixiera (London, 1902), 122.
6.
Pelsaert speaks at some length about the advantageous integration of the Hajj market with nearby Mughal commercial enclaves. See Francisco Pelsaert (translated by W.H. Moreland), Jahangir’s India (Cambridge, 1925), 39–40.
7.
William Foster (ed.), Early Travels in India, 1583–1619 (Oxford, 1921), 302.
8.
John Fryer (edited by William Crooke), A New Account of East India and Persia being Nine Years’ Travels, 1672–1681 (3 vols., New Delhi, 1992), 163.
9.
H.M. Elliot and J. Dowson, The History Of India As Told By Its Own Historians (8 vols., New Delhi, 1867–1877), VII, 350.
10.
Pelsaert points out that vast number of ships owned by non-regal shippers plied these routes.
11.
Pelsaert, Jahangir’s India, 225–6.
12.
Francois Bernier (translated by Archibald Constable), Travels in the Mogul Empire, AD 1656–1668 (New Delhi, 1989), 128–9.
13.
Najaf Haider, ‘Precious Metal Flows and Currency Circulation in the Mughal Empire’, Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient, 39, No. 3 (1996), 298–364.
14.
John Chardin (edited by Edmund Lloyd), Travels in Persia, (2 vols., New York, 2010), 66.
15.
Riazul Islam, Indo-Persian Relations: A Study of the Political and Diplomatic Relations between the Mughal Empire and Iran (Tehran, 1970), 229.
16.
William Foster, ed., English Factories in India, 1630–1633 (Oxford, 1910), 326.
17.
Das Gupta, Indian Merchants, 68–9.
18.
John Ovington, A Voyage to Surat in the year 1689 (New Delhi, 1994), 271.
19.
A. Galletti, A.J. Van Der Burg and P. Groot, eds. and tr., Selections from the Records of the Madras Government: Dutch Records No. 13: The Dutch in Malabar (Madras, 1911), 109.
20.
Laxmi Subramanian, Indigenous Capital and Imperial Expansion: Bombay, Surat and the West Coast (Delhi, 1996), 29.
21.
Jos J.L. Gommans, ‘The Horse Trade in Eighteenth Century South Asia’, Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient, 37 (1994), 228–50.
22.
Simon Digby, ‘Beyond the Ocean: Perceptions of Overseas in Indo–Persian Sources of the Mughal Period’, Studies in History, 15 (1999), 247–59.
23.
Abu’l Fazl (translated by H. Beveridge), Akbarnāmā (3 vols., Calcutta, 1973), III, 757–8.
24.
Foster, Early Travels, 58.
25.
Foster, Early Travels, 58.
26.
C.T. Danvers, ed., Letters Received by the East India Company, 1602–1613 (London, 1896), 103.
27.
Foster, Early Travels, 63.
28.
James Bird, tr., Medieval Gujarat: Its Political and Statistical History (New Delhi, 1980), 320–1.
29.
That the Mughals had resigned to this development comes out when, speaking of Aurangzeb, John Fryer says that ‘he [the emperor] contenting himself in the enjoyment of the Continent, and styles the Christian Lions of the Sea; saying that God has allotted that Unstable Element for their rule’. See Fryer, A New Account, I, 302.
30.
Elliot and Dawson, History of India, VII, 34–5.
31.
K.N. Chaudhari, referring to the English debacle during the Child’s War, noted that the success of the Mughal military machine taught the Company the crucial lesson that ‘naval warfare was far more useful to the Europeans as a deterrent than as a tactical weapon’. See K.N. Chaudhuri, The Trading World of Asia and the English East India Company, 1660–1760 (Cambridge, 1978), 126.
32.
Alexander Hamilton, A New Account of the East Indies being the Observations and Remarks of Captain Alexander Hamilton From the Year 1688–1723 (2 vols., London, 1995), I, 210–11.
33.
Foster, English Factories in India, 238, 244.
34.
Elliot and Dawson, History of India, VII, 354.
35.
Ahsan Jan Qaiser has highlighted the role played by Akbar in imparting a fillip to this industry in Lahore and Allahabad. He has argued that a systematic and detailed description in the Ain-i-Akbari of the duties and functions of the captain and crew of ocean-going ships, with even the wages specified, according to ports, strongly indicates imperial concern with navigation. See Ahsan Jan Qaisar, The Indian Response to European Technology and Culture, AD 1498–1707 (Delhi, 1982). Also see Abu’l Fazl (translated by H. Blochmann), Āin-i Akbarī (Calcutta, 1977), I, 290; Irfan Habib, Technology in Medieval India, c650–1750 (New Delhi, 2008), 107–8.
36.
Chaudhuri, The Trading World, 126.
37.
Lotika Varadarajan, ed. and tr., India in the Seventeenth Century (Social, Economic and Political): Memoirs of Francois Martin, 1670–1694 (2 vols., New Delhi, 1983), II, 1094.
38.
In this context, it may be pointed out that Ian Bruce Watson considered the Mughal response towards the European companies in the seventeenth century to be motivated by the desire of using them as ‘a means of ridding themselves of the Portuguese’. See Ian Bruce Watson, Foundation for Empire: English Private Trade in India, 1659–1760 (New Delhi, 1980), 25–6.
39.
Cited from Chaudhuri, The Trading World, 127.
40.
The necessity of sticking to a schedule for the delivery and shipment of their goods put them at a disadvantage during protracted negotiations. See William Foster, ed., Letters Received by the East India Company, 1613–1615 (London, 1897), 138.
41.
Foster, English Factories in India, 315.
42.
Foster, English Factories in India, 316.
43.
Foster, English Factories in India, 103.
44.
Foster, English Factories in India, 329.
45.
Highlighting this facet, Edward Terry wrote: “This wide monarchie is very rich and fertile; so much abounding in all necessaries for the use of man as that it is able to subsist and flourish of it selfe, without the leaste help from any neighbour.” See Foster, Early Travels, 296.
46.
Pietro Della Valle (edited by Edward Grey), The Travels of Pietro Della Valle in India, 1623–1624 (2 vols., New Delhi, 1991), II, 417–9.
47.
Charles Lockeyer, An Account of the Trade in India (London, 1711), 259.
48.
Ovington, A Voyage, 225–6.
49.
Hamilton, A New Account, I, 213–4.
50.
Qaisar, The Indian Response, 45.
51.
Foster, Early Travels, 301.
52.
Elliot and Dawson, History of India, VII, 350.
53.
This difficulty has also been referred to by Mandelslo. See M.S. Commissariat, ed., Mandelslo’s Travels in Western India, 1638–1639 (New Delhi, 1995), 57. Also see Foster, English Factories in India, 124–5.
54.
Foster, Early Travels, 68.
55.
Foster, English Factories in India, 318.
56.
Carsten Niebuhr (translated by Robert Heron), Travels Through Arabia and other Countries in the East (2 vols., Edinburgh, 1792), I, 263.
57.
Foster, English Factories in India, 141.
58.
N.R. Farooqi, ‘Moguls, Ottomans, and Pilgrims: Protecting the routes to Mecca in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries’, The International History Review, 10 (1988), 198–220.
59.
Pelsaert, Jahangir’s India, 30.
60.
Fryer, A New Account, I, 195; W.S. Desai, Bombay and the Marathas up to 1774 (New Delhi, 1970), 6n; Farooqi claims that for a time Aurangzeb explored the possibility of taking the help of Arab corsairs of Muscat to supplement his own efforts to neutralize the problem posed by the pirates.
61.
G.W. Forrest, ed., Selections from the Letters, Despatches, and other State Papers Preserved in the Bombay Secretariat (2 vols., Bombay, 1887), I, 277.
62.
Forrest, Selections, I, 309.
63.
Calendar of Persian Correspondence: Being Letters which passed between some of the Company’s Servants and Indian Rulers and Notables, 1767–1769 (Delhi, 2013), II, 333.
64.
Forrest, Selections, I, 290.
65.
Forrest, Selections, II, 61–2.
66.
Forrest, Selections, II, 96.
67.
Niebuhr, Travels, II, 413–4.
68.
Forrest, Selections, II, 96.
69.
Forrest, Selections, I, 290.
70.
Forrest, Selections, II, 173.
