A state of high alert

Ever since the Vellore Mutiny of 1806, an uprising in which sepoys had murdered nearly 100 European officers at the Vellore Fort, officials in Vellore had become particularly sensitive to cultural or religious factors that could agitate the troops. Many had attributed the Vellore Mutiny to the introduction of a new dress code, which violated caste customs of the sepoys and convinced them that the Company was conspiring to convert them to Christianity.Footnote ¹⁵ Some evidence suggests that the conspirators in the Vellore Mutiny met secretly in the mosque complex eventually occupied by Maulvi Modin.Footnote ¹⁶ Adding to the sense of intrigue was the fact that the Company had imprisoned members of the family of the late Tipu Sultan at the Vellore Fort, after the 1799 fall of Mysore to a Company-led coalition. Against this history, the British had become all the more sensitized to the effects of Muslim reformist preaching among the troops.

Vellore and the neighbouring city of Arcot had long been key centres of Muslim influence. During the eighteenth century, they came under the rule of the Nawabs of the Carnatic, who were great patrons of Sufi holy men and Islamic learning. As did the Nizams of Hyderabad, the ruling dynasties of the Carnatic recruited Pathan mercenaries from North India to staff their armies.Footnote ¹⁷ Toward the end of the century, the East India Company brought the ruling Wallajah dynasty of Arcot under its patronage. Even as the autonomy of the Nawabs diminished under Company rule, their investment in Sufi shrines and holy places continued in places such as Vellore, Arcot, and Madras (to which the Nawabs had shifted their court after 1766).

During the late 1830s, domains once controlled by the Nawabs of Arcot became important venues of Muslim reformist activity. The reformers in question were followers of the late Sayyid Ahmad Barelvi (d. 1831), who called themselves the Tariqah-i-Muhammadiya. Muhammad Ali Rampuri, an immediate disciple of Shah Ishmael and (by extension) Sayyid Ahmad Barelvi, was largely responsible for extending reformist influence into Madras, Arcot, and other regions of the South.Footnote ¹⁸ During his visit to Madras in 1829, Muhammad Ali used his skills as an orator to inspire reformist zeal among his audiences. Members of the royal family and a range of common folk were among those who took a vow of allegiance (bai'at) to him. It was during his second visit to Madras in 1836, however, that Muhammad Ali encountered sharp resistance to his reformist message from members of the Madras ulama. Drawing upon the teachings of his guide, Shah Ishmael, he had condemned many of the popular practices associated with Sufi shrines.Footnote ¹⁹ This led the Nawab of Arcot to denounce Muhammed Ali as a kafir and insist that any murid (follower) of his renounce all allegiance to him. The Madras ulama pressured Muhammad Ali to sign an oath disavowing all belief in the teachings of his guide.Footnote ²⁰

Such exchanges illustrate how reformist teachings had fractured the Muslim community along doctrinal lines. Company officials, however, were far less concerned with doctrinal aspects of so-called ‘Wahhabi’ preaching than with its potential to foment rebellion. They were particularly concerned that Muslim subadars or other salaried employees of the Company would embrace Wahhabism and be rendered namak haram (‘unclean salt’, signifying treachery or disloyalty) or the betrayal of its bond to the Company. As charges were levelled against Maulvi Modin, G. M. Stewart, the Commanding Military Officer at Vellore, asked Mark Cubbon, the Commissioner at Mysore, to ascertain the extent of Wahhabi influence in the state of Mysore.Footnote ²¹ He was particularly interested to learn whether any Muslims receiving pensions from the government had embraced Wahhabism. From August to October 1839, Cubbon conducted a series of interviews, not only to measure Wahhabi influence, but also to understand the precise connotations of the label ‘Wahhabi’ among Mysore's Muslims. Cubbon's interrogation of Subadar Mohijuddin Khan illustrates how, even in this pre-Mutiny context, the label ‘Wahhabi’ was charged with sectarian overtones:

The subadar's response reveals the geopolitical landscape in which he situated the term ‘Wahhabi’. He viewed the label as applicable to Arabian Muslim reformers, not Indian ones. Moreover, when used in his region, he regarded ‘Wahhabi’ as a term of reproach. After conducting numerous interviews of this kind, Cubbon concluded that Wahhabism was not at all prevalent among the Muslims of Mysore and Bangalore.Footnote ²³ He also gathered from his interviews that Wahhabi doctrines ‘were held in abhorrence, as subversive of the fundamental principles of the Mussulmen faith, without reference to their being used as a vehicle for schemes of political excitement or sedition’.Footnote ²⁴

Several differences between this preoccupation with the dreaded ‘Wahhabi’ and what evolved after 1857 are worth noting. First, before the events of 1857, Company officials seemed more aware of the distinction between the ‘spiritual’ agenda of the Indian reformers and their political commitment to waging jihad. Their equation of Wahhabism with anti-British jihad was not as automatic as it became in the aftermath of the Great Rebellion (that is, the days of W. W. Hunter and his tract). This is understandable, since officials at this stage could not attribute to Wahhabism (legitimately or not) any concrete acts of rebellion against the Company, as they had with respect to the Great Rebellion. Second, the legal apparatus for trying sedition suspects in general and Wahhabis in particular was much less formal and open-ended in the years preceding the rebellion. Modin's trial (1839–40) occurred well before the Company had passed the Indian Penal Code (1860) and the Code of Criminal Procedure (1861).Footnote ²⁵ In the absence of clearly stipulated standards of evidence and procedure, its proceedings were all the more tied to the personality, competence, or sensibilities of the legal personnel at hand.

Still, we can observe elements of a witch-hunt well before the rebellion. During the same year of Modin's trial (1839), Company authorities devoted massive resources to arrests, interrogations, and imprisonments of Muslim travellers and princes who were suspected of advancing seditious plots against the government. Most of the key suspects were identified as Wahhabis or Wahhabi sympathizers. Among the more high-profile arrests were those of Mubariz ud-Daula, the younger brother of the Nizam of Hyderabad; Ghulam Rasul Khan, the Nawab of Kurnool; and Abbas Ali Khan, the Jagirdar (holder of a land grant) of Udayagiri (a city in Nellore District of South India). None of these men, however, was granted a criminal trial as Modin was; and, unlike Modin, all were found guilty of sedition and spent the rest of their lives in prison.Footnote ²⁶

The initial accusations

In addition to local concerns about Wahhabi agitation, the accusations against Maulvi Modin also arose within a context of inter-empire rivalry.Footnote ²⁷ Concerns over Russian and Persian encroachment into Afghanistan sparked rumours of a Muslim uprising within British India. It was believed that wandering emissaries disguised as holy men were knitting together a confederacy comprising Indian princes, sepoys, mercenaries, and preachers. Timed to coincide with a Russian (and Persian) advance on British India, this confederacy would launch a coordinated assault against Company forces at both North and South Indian military outposts. The Company responded to such rumours by searching for suspicious looking Muslim itinerants and preachers within various districts of South India. Indeed, one of the more controversial aspects of Modin's criminal trial concerns the manner in which authorities at Vellore had fished for suspects in a somewhat open-ended manner. This approach, as we shall see, appears to have provided incentives for local Muslims to make allegations against Modin.

In March 1839, John Elphinstone, the Governor of Madras, had sent a letter to G. M. Stewart, the Commanding Military Officer at Vellore, alerting him to the problem of wandering emissaries who were spreading disaffection toward the government. Elphinstone stressed the possibility that these emissaries were ‘tampering’ with the native army and should be ‘apprehended and brought to punishment’.Footnote ²⁸ He urged Stewart to adopt measures that would prevent such disaffection from taking root among the troops at Vellore.

Stewart entrusted J. D. Awdry, Vellore's Superintendent of Police, with the task of acting upon Elphinstone's charge. In the absence of any specific suspect, Awdry solicited the help of a Brahmin named Lutchman Rao, who worked closely with him in the police thanah (station). What transpired from this point would have lasting implications for the outcome of Modin's case. Awdry asked Lutchman Rao to name any ‘loyal and well affected Mussalmen of respectability’ who might assist him in discerning ‘the state of feeling’ among Muslims at Vellore.Footnote ²⁹ Lutchman Rao named Hussein Jamal Khan, whom Awdry summoned immediately. It was Jamal Khan who first informed Awdry about Modin's seditious activities. Awdry's account, however, suggested that Jamal Khan lacked first-hand information:

Awdry explained to Jamal Khan that British custom required that he obtain a copy of the book in question and that he produce evidence of seditious preaching.

Jamal Khan responded by bringing a number of Muslims to the police station. One of them brought a copy of the book to Awdry and pointed out to him several inflammatory passages. Others provided information concerning Modin's sermons. Awdry eventually found others who were willing to testify about Modin's sermons. From the input of these witnesses—compiled somewhat casually—Awdry had pooled together enough evidence to escalate Modin's case to authorities at Madras. Those authorities, however, would not consider evidence concerning the book alone to warrant an arrest.

The book attributed to Modin, Ras Nasara, emphasized a number of distinct themes. One of them concerns the inequality between Europeans and Indians, particularly evident in efforts to find justice within the Indian courts. ‘If any native should with due cause beat an Englishman,’ the book charged, ‘[the Englishmen] unite together and take their opportunity to avenge his quarrel until they gain revenge.’Footnote ³¹ When English rulers unjustly beat Indians, however, the latter lacked financial resources to press charges against them and, as a result, had to tolerate what the book described as their unjust, corrupt, immoral, and exploitive practices.

Another witness, Sayyid Qadr Modin, described how the book defamed both the Christian religion and the English people. Modin, he claimed, had referred derogatorily to India's Christian rulers as ‘Nasarah dogs’.Footnote ³² Moreover, the book declared that Muslims should be ashamed of themselves for allowing ‘men with women's faces’ to rule over them.Footnote ³³ This reference resonates with grievances of sepoys who had to shave their beards in order to conform to the Company's dress codes. Several witnesses conveyed the sense of emasculation arising from shaving the beard and the humiliation of being ruled by effeminate men. Qadr Modin claimed that he pleaded with the maulvi not to disseminate this work, ‘since the Company is in authority and it is not right to write against the authority in this manner. He can defend Islam without publishing this kind of work. The Maulvi said [that] since the Company has abused his religion, [he has] written this book to strengthen it’.Footnote ³⁴

According to Sayyid Qadr Modin, Maulvi Modin had intended that the book be printed, but it failed to receive official approval for printing by the local Qazi. Another witness named Gholam Hussein testified that Modin had in fact managed to copy and distribute the book to his leading caliphs (here, deputies or representatives) at Bangalore, Arcot, and Pallavaram (near Madras).Footnote ³⁵ He also read sections of his book aloud to Muslims gathered at his mosque and elsewhere.Footnote ³⁶

In spite of these testimonies concerning Modin's book (sometimes referred to as a pamphlet), the precise whereabouts of the book was unknown at the time of the trial (October 1839). Awdry claimed to have received a copy of the book before forwarding it to Stewart, who then sent it to authorities at Madras. From that point on, he did not know of the book's whereabouts; nor were passages from the book ever quoted verbatim.Footnote ³⁷ This did not seem to matter, since authorities did not consider evidence concerning the book to provide sufficient grounds to bring charges against Modin.Footnote ³⁸

In September, the charges against Modin were brought to the attention of the highest ranks of the Government of India. H. T. Prinsep, the Secretary to the Government, drew a distinction between the mere propagation of Wahhabi doctrines (verbally or through texts) and deliberate attempts to ‘seduce the troops’. The former, he explained, could result in the spread of disaffection toward the government and should be carefully monitored. The government, however, ‘would not wish the public officers to be encouraged in seizing or otherwise molesting persons under suspicion of their entertaining and propagating dangerous opinions’.Footnote ³⁹ Only acts that directly targeted the sepoys with a view to dissolving their allegiance to the Company warranted official intervention. Prinsep believed that such perpetrators should be tried under military law and be subject to court martial. The problem, however, is that persons who incite troops to mutiny may be outsiders who are not ‘registered as belonging to a cantonment’.Footnote ⁴⁰ This was clearly the case with Modin. His mosque was located on the grounds of the Vellore Fort, but he was not a regimental maulvi in the employ of the Company.Footnote ⁴¹ Indeed, G. M. Ogilvie, the Principal Collector at North Arcot, confirmed that Modin ‘does not derive his office from the state and that he has no support nor emoluments therefrom’.Footnote ⁴² He would not be tried by a military tribunal, but, as we shall see, at a Special Court before a magistrate, under the auspices of the Faujdari Adalat (Criminal Court) at Chittoor.

Authorities considered allegations concerning Modin's sermons to be a far more serious matter than his book. His sermons could play a more direct role in inciting the troops to mutiny. Twelve of Modin's followers who had regularly attended his mosque claimed that they had heard him exhort Muslims to unite in opposition to their infidel British rulers.Footnote ⁴³ Adding to the weight of their allegations were the claims that Modin was a Wahhabi, who routinely hosted foreign emissaries and maintained contact with key conspirators at Hyderabad, Kurnool, and Udayagiri.

Testimonies concerning Modin's jihad wa'z followed a recurring pattern. His message, they claimed, emphasized how the disunity of Muslims led to their subjugation by the ‘Nazarenes’. It was the duty of Muslims to be of ‘one mind’ and to slay these kafirs.Footnote ⁴⁴ Some variation of this theme can be observed in the testimony of Mirza Ishmael Beg, the brother of a concubine of the late Tipu Sultan. As a state prisoner at Vellore, he apparently was permitted to attend Modin's mosque and listen to his messages. In addition to the familiar contents of his wa'z summarized by other witnesses (that is, concerning the need for Muslim unity), Mirza Beg reported that begums and state prisoners tended to bequeath their jewels and property to Modin upon their death. This, he claimed, his how Modin had become very rich.Footnote ⁴⁵

Another witness, Qadr Badshah, assigned a more explicitly anti-Christian element to Modin's preaching. Upon hearing Modin's wa'z, Badshah claimed to have asked him questions of clarification:

Qadr Badshah's testimony falls in line with a tradition, tracing back to the Vellore Mutiny, which presents Christianization as an impetus for rebellion. His is the only testimony that frames Modin's wa'z in these religious terms.

The witness, Mir Hamed Ali, had lived in Maulvi Modin's makan for seven years. His testimony provided details concerning Modin's alleged Wahhabi ties and the extent of his following in Vellore and the vicinity.Footnote ⁴⁷ According to Ali, who presided over a dargah (shrine) at Vellore, Modin had thousands of followers in the region and was secretly a Wahhabi. Over the span of three years, he claimed to have heard Modin declare that

Other witnesses summarized Modin's jihad wa'z with similar language. When asked to clarify who precisely were these kafirs, they would name the European rulers of India.Footnote ⁴⁹ In addition to summarizing the core elements of the wa'z, Mir Hamed Ali provided names of Modin's caliphs along with names of his murids among the sepoys:

When asked why he did not come forward with this information earlier, Hamed Ali explained that he feared for his life in light of Maulvi Modin's power and influence. He added that it was ‘not right’ that the maulvi, as an enemy of the Company, should have a makan ‘under the walls of the Vellore Fort’, and that the Company should remove him from those premises.

Mir Hamed Ali's testimony is significant on several counts. First, it indicates that, in spite of their growing numbers, Wahhabis were not well received among the Deccan's Muslims, the majority of whom were Sunni. A Wahhabi maulvi such as Modin, Hamed Ali claimed, had to conceal his identity (that is, live in a state of purdah, or hiding/concealment) by professing Sunni affiliation or Sayyid (someone claiming descent from the Prophet Muhammad) status. Second, Hamed Ali's reference to ‘horse dealers’ concurs with the predominantly Indo-Afghan composition of the Indian Wahhabis. Their movement followed networks of the horse trade, which crossed the Indo-Afghan-ruled states of Kurnool and Cuddapah and extended southward to Mysore.Footnote ⁵¹ Finally, his description of Modin's ties to the preacher, Muhammed Ali, and the extent of Modin's following in and around Vellore suggests that Modin was an active agent in efforts to expand Wahhabi influence in the South, particularly among sepoys.

The testimony of Buddi ud-Din Khan Sahib confirms much of what Hamed Ali had stated in his testimony. Buddi ud-Din, however, presented Modin's influence as covering an even wider territory and making greater inroads into the army. He noted, for instance, that one of Modin's murids named Qadamaya, who resided at Palavaram (near Madras), was doing ‘much harm amongst the sepoys’ and had made as many as 250–300 murids from among them.Footnote ⁵² Modin, he reported, had as many as 6,000 followers in Vellore and surrounding villages. To this, he added:

Other witnesses testified concerning Modin's vast influence, particularly among the sepoys. Shaikh Ibram, the subadar to whom Mir Hamed Ali referred (above), claimed that both Modin and his father (also a maulvi) gained many murids. He claimed that as many as two-thirds of the Muslim population of Vellore and the vicinity were murids of Modin and his father.Footnote ⁵⁴

Ihan Khan, a Police Peon at Vellore, stated that he has known both Modin and his father (Husrat Shah Abdul Hussein) for 30 years. Whereas the father, he claimed, had never preached sedition, Modin did:

Upon being asked to whom the designation ‘kafirs’ referred, Ihan Khan responded ‘the Nasarah dog’, the derogatory name for Christians.

Clearly, Awdry's attempt to read the pulse of Vellore's Muslims was yielding highly provocative results centred almost entirely on Modin. Twenty-nine men provided testimonies concerning Modin's ties to Wahhabism and his seditious messages. Awdry, however, received their testimonies in a most informal manner: privately at the police thanah (station), not on oath, and with the assistance of a translator and recorder. Awdry then sent their written statements to G. M. Ogilvie, the Principal Collector (and magistrate) at Chittoor. Chittoor was the headquarters for revenue and judicial authorities of North Arcot District. Reports concerning Modin's alleged sedition at Vellore were referred to Ogilvie, who, upon examining them, determined that they warranted formal charges. Modin, he observed, used seditious language to ‘excite Mohammedans against the rulers of this country’.Footnote ⁵⁶ He was to be tried at a Special Court, convened at Chittoor. Upon the conclusion of the trial, the records would be sent to the Faujdari Adalat, whose judges would issue a final verdict.

Trial before a magistrate

Modin's trial at the Special Court began at Chittoor on 26 September 1839 and concluded in November. According to the rules governing the Special Court, the magistrate, G. M. Ogilvie, did not function as an impartial judge, but as the Prosecutor.Footnote ⁵⁷ The Special Commissioner, Malcolm Lewin, presided over the trial, but was also considered by law to be the counsel for the accused.Footnote ⁵⁸ This public trial brought a new set of dynamics to what was already a culturally and politically volatile situation. At Chittoor, witnesses who had rendered testimony privately to Awdry (at Vellore) would have to resubmit their testimonies on oath in front of Modin himself and his followers. Modin, in turn, would be accorded the right to call his own witnesses, cross-examine those of the prosecution, and render testimony of his own. There was no jury in this trial.

Awdry described his witnesses as persons ‘of the greatest respectability’, some of whom occupied ‘the highest offices of their religion’.Footnote ⁵⁹ He objected to their having to appear before the magistrate, contending that this would violate their customs. By presenting their accusations in front of their maulvi and his murids, witnesses holding rank and influence would discredit themselves in the eyes of fellow Muslims: ‘[It would] lessen if not entirely destroy their influence over their murids who will hereafter consider them no longer persons of sanctity and, it is much to be feared, [would] draw upon them the abhorrence and enmity of the whole body of Mussalmen.’Footnote ⁶⁰

Prior to the commencement of the trial, Awdry voiced concerns over the safety of his witnesses. Early on, Ogilvie had detained Modin as charges against him were mounting. Once Ogilvie had set a date for Modin's trial, he released him. Awdry claimed that Modin's release had emboldened Modin's followers while giving those who had testified against him cause for great fear.Footnote ⁶¹

As the trial progressed, Awdry described how Modin's followers were intimidating his witnesses by claiming that they will be placed in jail for their perjury. Even the court, he claimed, was treating the witnesses as if they were prisoners by preventing them from speaking to each other and by placing them under careful surveillance at night. Moreover, he cited verbal abuse by Modin's followers:

Awdry portrayed the Special Court as being biased toward Modin. ‘It is hinted to them by friends of the Maulvi,’ he claimed, ‘that if they will speak for him they will be kindly treated by the Judge.’Footnote ⁶³

Later on, Stewart, in support of Awdry, would describe how the original witnesses had become victims of misrepresentation. He objected to the manner in which the Special Court had recorded their depositions. Most of the testimonies were first given in Telugu. Later, they were translated into Hindustani and English. The peons entrusted with recording the testimonies, he claimed, had distorted their content in the process of translating them. Only Muslims in the cutcherry were qualified to examine the Hindustani translations, and they appeared to have been absent from the proceedings of the Special Court. Stewart criticized Lewin for challenging the credibility of the witnesses when he himself did not know enough Hindustani (or any Telugu at all) to interpret their testimonies accurately.Footnote ⁶⁴

Stewart conveyed Awdry's concerns about mistreatment and official bias to authorities at Madras. He claimed that four maulvis from Madras who were close to Modin had contacted two of the witnesses, Qadr Modin and Dustaghir Sahib, in order to induce them to alter their testimonies at Chittoor.Footnote ⁶⁵ The climate of intimidation created by Modin and his followers was dissuading others from testifying:

The picture being painted by Awdry and Stewart was that of vulnerable Muslims who risked their personal security in order to bring forth the truth concerning the treasonous designs of Modin. Not only did the original witnesses face the hostility of Modin's followers, but they also contended with local authorities who actually extended preferential treatment to Modin on account of his high status.

What transpired at Chittoor, however, was more complicated than this. Modin was aware that witnesses for the prosecution might accuse him of tampering. This is why he volunteered to remain in confinement for the duration of the trial. Even Ogilvie had noted the threat to stability posed by the large number of murids who had accompanied Modin to his trial. Because of this, Ogilvie found it ‘exceedingly hazardous’ to detain Modin in the custody of his office.Footnote ⁶⁷ He therefore kept him at the jail in Chittoor. Declining the option of being released on bail, Modin agreed to remain at the Chittoor jail, in isolation from his murids.

During the trial, followers of Modin accused Awdry of tampering. They complained that he had seated himself in close proximity to his witnesses (for the prosecution) in order to coach them as to how to respond to questions.Footnote ⁶⁸ As complaints against him mounted, Awdry was asked to leave the trial at Chittoor and return to Vellore.Footnote ⁶⁹ Even then, concerns about his involvement in the case persisted. Modin's mother complained that Awdry had bribed witnesses to testify against her son and that, upon returning to Vellore, he had entered Modin's mosque to amass further evidence against him. She claimed that he had entered the mosque ‘by violence’, without removing his boots, in order to make a sketch of the mosque.Footnote ⁷⁰ He did so in order to inform his witnesses about the layout of the mosque so that they could effectively respond to the defence's questions. These questions were largely centred on whether the witnesses had actually attended the mosque or had actually seen Modin deliver the jihad wa'z.

When cross-examining witnesses, Modin often asked them to describe the layout of the mosque and where he was seated when he delivered the allegedly seditious sermons. Mahomed Cassim was among the witnesses who claimed to have heard Modin's jihad wa'z. Modin's exchange with him illustrates the significance of physical space to the defence:

Besides asking witnesses to provide details concerning the layout of the mosque, Modin frequently asked them to describe the kinds of people who were in attendance and to provide names of individuals present. Rarely were witnesses able to respond with any degree of specificity. Cassim, for instance, claimed that sepoys of the 48th Regiment and the Davis Battalion were present, along with ‘people of the town’. When asked to provide names of anyone present, Cassim simply responded that ‘all the sepoys . . . are now gone away’.Footnote ⁷³

As the trial at Chittoor progressed, each side continued to accuse the other of witness tampering. It reached a point at which Malcolm Lewin, the Special Commissioner, was compelled to adjourn the case until measures could be taken to ensure a fair trial.Footnote ⁷⁴ Shortly thereafter, however, the Madras Governor ordered that the trial be resumed.Footnote ⁷⁵ A highly revealing series of exchanges between the witnesses, their interrogators, and Modin himself ensued. Of the 64 witnesses who testified at Chittoor, 29 were the original witnesses of the prosecution who had spoken to Awdry at Vellore. The rest were additional witnesses that Malcolm Lewin, the Special Commissioner, had called. Central to the testimonies was the question of Muslim loyalty to the Company: What factors ensured a relationship of namak halal, literally the ‘good salt’, which signifies the reciprocal bond of loyalty between rulers and ruled? Did Modin embody this virtue, and did the witnesses?

Since Mughal times, the imagery of salt was central in describing a king's relationship to his subjects. A king granted patronage, gifts, rank, or protection to a subject. Those who received such provisions were said to be ‘eating his salt’ and were expected to extend their loyalty in return. Sepoys employed by a king and who in turn extended to him their faithful military service exemplified namak halal. Those who mutinied were considered namak haram, or faithless to their salt.Footnote ⁷⁶ Though deployed under Company rule mainly to describe the loyalty of sepoys, the logic of namak halal and namak haram could apply more broadly to anyone receiving employment, pension, or other allowances from the Company. The matter of one's status or rank under Company rule was a salient theme in several testimonies rendered at Chittoor.

Mir Hamed Ali was among the original witnesses who had spoken to Awdry and testified for the prosecution at Chittoor. The criminal court at Chittoor identified him as a member of the ‘Sayyid caste’ who made a living by ‘begging’.Footnote ⁷⁷ Because he was poor and unemployed (in spite of being identified as a Sayyid), he may have had less to lose by making strong allegations against Modin. Before the magistrate, he claimed to have resided in Modin's makan for three years. During this time, he had occasion to converse with Modin about his ties to the Company.Footnote ⁷⁸ Mir Hamed Ali suggested that Modin's refusal to accept an allowance from the Company made him an enemy of the Company:

Ali had been acquainted with Modin for years, but only in the context of this investigation did he develop the boldness to make such accusations, that too in front of Modin himself. In Modin's cross-examination of Ali, he raised this very issue. He also raised a question concerning the social status of the Muslims who were present when Ali allegedly heard him preach sedition:

After Modin cross-examined Ali, the mufti of the court (hired by criminal courts to expound Muslim law) also cross-examined him. The mufti’s cross-examination pushed the matter of social status even further. He listed the names of six Muslims of rank and asked Hamed Ali whether they were present when he heard the seditious messages:

Hamed Ali would not have known that the men named by the mufti were witnesses of the defence (called by Lewin) who stated on oath that they had not heard Modin deliver such messages.Footnote ⁸² The cross-examiners refuted Hamed Ali's claims not only by presenting counter-evidence, but also by invoking matters of social class or rank. Just as Hamed Ali argued that Modin's refusal to accept an allowance from the Company emboldened him to preach sedition, Modin and the mufti suggested that Hamed Ali's low status had emboldened him to level spurious charges against persons of rank.

Another witness for the prosecution, Chandkhan, a Pathan bazaar worker at Vellore, addressed the meaning of namak halal in connection to one's obligation to report sedition:

Chandkhan's testimony conveys the sense of duty espoused by many witnesses of the prosecution. They came forward to testify against Modin precisely because not doing so would constitute an act of disloyalty. From where, however, did this sense of obligation to report Modin's sedition arise? And how much time had lapsed between their hearing the jihad wa'z and their decision to report?

Several witnesses claimed that a cotwal (chief of police in a given area) named Abdul Qadr was the first person to have asked them about Modin's preaching. The witness, Sayyid Ali, was a subordinate police patrol to Abdul Qadr. Only once had he attended Modin's mosque. This was on the first Friday of Ramadan, when he heard Modin's jihad wa'z. He claimed that it was Abdul Qadr who had asked him initially whether he had heard Modin preach sedition. After responding in the affirmative to Qadr, he went and reported the matter to Awdry. In his testimony at Chittoor, he was asked why Qadr had bothered to approach him with this inquiry when he had only attended Modin's mosque on one occasion and had told no one that he had heard Modin preach sedition. Examined on three separate occasions as a witness for the prosecution, Sayyid Ali was unable to provide a clear answer.Footnote ⁸⁴

A more detailed account of Abdul Qadr's role is provided in the testimony of Khatib Shah Muhammed Jacob, a local cultivator in Vellore and also a preacher (khatib) at a local mosque (unnamed).Footnote ⁸⁵ Two witnesses of the prosecution, Shaikh Ikram and Mir Cassim Ali, had mentioned that he was present when Modin had delivered his jihad wa'z—a claim that Jacob flatly denied. Jacob, who testified for the defence, explained that Modin's sermons often challenged the customs of his hearers and, in so doing, evoked their hostility: ‘Maulvi Sahib is a learned man and makes know the commands of God and the prophet. His doctrines are an innovation on bad customs. The people bear enmity against him because he forbids those acts, which their fathers and grandfathers had observed.’Footnote ⁸⁶

Jacob's testimony lends some credence to claims of the original witnesses that Modin was either a Wahhabi preacher (see note 6) or had come under the influence of the reformist message of the Indian Wahhabis (perhaps through his affiliation with Muhammed Ali Rampuri). These reformers, after all, were noted for their attacks on local practices considered bidat (innovations). Jacob, however, denied having heard Modin preach jihad against the Company.

Under cross-examination by Modin, Jacob described how the cotwal, Abdul Qadr (whom he labelled a ‘heretic’), had persuaded two individuals, Buden Din and Shirf ud-Din (the 6th and 12th witnesses for the prosecution), to render false testimony against Modin. Abdul Qadr had approached them four times to elicit sworn statements from them concerning Modin's messages. The two men refused to sign Abdul Qadr's statements, but apparently were willing to make verbal charges against Modin to Awdry. The men then turned to Jacob for his intervention. They urged him to go to Modin and plead with him for their pardon:

Contrary to what they had promised, Shirf ud-Din and Buden Din did not alter their testimonies at Chittoor or admit that they had rendered false testimony before Awdry. Whether this is due to their fear of reprisals from Awdry and Stewart or whether this is because Jacob had fabricated their disclosure is uncertain. What we do know is that Modin himself had made very similar claims about being framed by those who responded to Awdry's initial enquiry.

In his testimony of 7 November, Modin described himself as one who belonged to a clerical family, who had long been committed to living ‘an ascetic life’.Footnote ⁸⁸ For roughly 150 years, his ancestors had occupied the same makan located on the grounds of the Vellore Fort. As the son of a Sayyid and a maulvi, he taught the five pillars of Islam along with basic morals. Some of his moral and religious teachings, he admitted, evoked opposition from his hearers; but he never stated which teachings did so. Instead, he provided an account of how certain individuals became motivated to bring charges against him.

Modin described how he had once hosted a traveller named Kismat Ali at his makan. This presumably was during the period when the Madras Governor, Elphinstone, had alerted Vellore officials to beware of suspicious ‘foreigners’ who were travelling about the South in order to incite rebellion. Considering it his duty to interrogate such individuals, Awdry summoned both Kismat Ali and Modin to the cutcherry (administrative office). Modin, however, replied that it was not his custom to entangle himself with the affairs of the government, since he ‘lives a solitary life, devoted to the contemplation of God’.Footnote ⁸⁹ Since he knew nothing about Kismat Ali, he asked Awdry to summon only Ali. According to Modin, Awdry arrested Kismat Ali but, finding him to be innocent of any wrongdoing, released him. Awdry, however, remained displeased with Modin for not coming to the cutcherry. It was then that he initiated his inquiry into Modin's loyalty to the Company.

Modin's narration of what followed placed a strong emphasis on the low status of the Muslims who testified against him. He described how Awdry had enlisted his assistant Lutchman Rao to locate individuals would be willing to testify about his seditious sermons. Awdry, he claimed, had offered ‘money and situations’ to witnesses Abdul Qadr, Hussein Jamah Khan, Jaffer Beg, Khadir Modin, and the Vellore Qazi, Muhammed Abdullah. This was done to entice them to come forward with information concerning his seditious activities. These men, in turn, found other Muslims of low status—‘certain beggars and vagabonds and turbulent characters’—to supply the Commissary (Awdry) with the information he sought.Footnote ⁹⁰ The cotwal and his peons had convinced Awdry that these were trustworthy individuals. Assured of the government's favour and various rewards, they were more than willing to make the claims they did. Until his dismissal from the trial, Awdry had coached the witnesses to craft their statements in ways that would convince the civil magistrate (Ogilvie) of his crimes.

Modin's testimony drew upon the same language of social status that colonial authorities had employed to gauge Muslim loyalty. People of low status and disrepute, he claimed, comprised the bulk of Awdry's witnesses. Modin highlighted the absurdity of their claims about him:

Contrary to what his lowly opponents had claimed, persons of rank, Modin claimed, have shown that claims about his seditious preaching were entirely false.

Modin presented other arguments to rebut the charge of sedition. He stressed the public and transparent character of his preaching. His were not the ways of someone who preached sedition, which are more typically marked by clandestine meetings and secret communications. He also stated that he received no allowance from the Company, but relied on God for his sustenance. For opponents of his such as Mir Hamed Ali (above), Modin's lack of reliance upon the Company was enough to make him a rebel. Modin, however, explained that he disapproved of the kind of jihad his accusers had attributed to him:

This explanation of the appropriate conditions for jihad resembles arguments put forth by modernist Muslims in the decades following the 1857 Rebellion. It was Sayyid Ahmad Khan, for instance, who explained that Islam did not enjoin Muslims to rebel against the British, contrary to what was claimed by the civil servant, W. W. Hunter.Footnote ⁹³ Finding himself in a context where Muslims were similarly burdened to demonstrate their loyalty, Modin presented a more irenic picture of Muslims under British rule—a far cry from the radical calls to jihad that were attributed to him by his opponents.

Through Lewin's eyes

In spite of the sizeable number of witnesses who testified concerning Modin's seditious sermons, Malcolm Lewin was able to discredit their testimonies on several fronts. In addition to identifying multiple inconsistencies, he also brought to light procedural flaws, largely centred on Awdry's collection of the initial evidence. In order to fully appreciate Lewin's role in securing Modin's acquittal, it is necessary to examine other aspects of his career and outlook, which demonstrate a clear pattern of defending those whom he regarded as underdogs.

Lewin was one among several Company officials who during the 1840s drew upon years of administrative experience to criticize the government and advocate for various kinds of reforms.Footnote ⁹⁴ From 1834 to 1839, he had served as a magistrate in multiple South Indian Districts: Canara, Guntur, Rajamundry, and Bellary. From 1839 to 1846, he served as a judge of the Madras Sadr Adalat (Court of Appeals).Footnote ⁹⁵ It was during these years as a judge that Lewin became critical of the Company's exercise of power in the Presidency. As he criticized the government, he developed a strong rapport with the increasingly vocal Hindu gentry at Madras, who protested the Company's religious policies, particularly its support of Christian missionaries. In 1847, his criticisms of fellow judges and attacks on the government at Madras resulted in his being asked to resign from his office.

Two developments in Lewin's career shed light on his interventions in Modin's trial. Even though these occurred after the trial, they reveal his steady critique of state power, whether in connection to local police or to the Company's administration. In September 1840, only months after his role as Special Commissioner at Chittoor, Lewin compiled a Circuit Report about the East India Company's use of torture in the Madras Presidency. His report described the harm routinely inflicted by police officers upon ordinary civilians. Likening police to robbers, he questioned whether ‘parts of the country were not better left to their own resources’.Footnote ⁹⁶ Citing detailed examples from Districts of the Deccan such as Cuddapah and Bellary, Lewin's report drew attention to inhumane methods employed by police to extract confessions from crime suspects. In their efforts to satisfy their superior officers, police will go to any lengths to ‘entrap prisoners into confessions’.Footnote ⁹⁷

On this point, Lewin was hardly a voice crying in the wilderness. Other members of the Commission produced similar findings. In their collective report, they concluded that the practice of torture within the territories under the Madras Presidency is universal, systematic, and cruel; that mutilation and death are its frequent results; and that it has no respect to sex or age.Footnote ⁹⁸ For his part, Lewin recommended that ‘native police officers’ no longer be permitted to record confessions of the accused on account of their illegitimate means of extracting them.

Lewin's observations were not entirely new. In 1815, Circular Orders of the Faujdari Adalat had noted that police were employing flawed procedures in gaining confessions. Police, for instance, recorded confessions without seeking corroborating evidence, merely claiming that the accused had rendered them voluntarily. The Circular Orders also described irregularities in relation to confessions made before a police and those rendered on oath before a criminal court. Two witnesses need to be present in any confession made before a police, and that too for the duration of the confession (not simply when the accused signs the paper transcript). In court, the examination of a witness needs to be recorded on separate paper from the declaration made before the police.Footnote ⁹⁹ Lewin, as we shall see, brought such irregularities to light in the trial of Maulvi Modin.

The other aspect of Lewin's career concerns his critique of the Company's religious policy. Lewin was convinced that the administration of Lord Tweeddale, the Governor of Madras, was actively and unfairly supporting missionaries. In November 1845, riots erupted in Tirunelveli in which mobs of Hindus attacked Christian villages, accosted residents, and destroyed property. Afterward, the local magistrate jailed more than 100 Hindus, who, upon appeal, were acquitted. Lewin subsequently published a Minute in which he held missionaries entirely responsible for the Tirunelveli riots on account of the improper support they received from local officials.Footnote ¹⁰⁰ He also accused the government of meddling with the court's role in dealing with the accused. In the midst of Lewin's tirade against Tweeddale's administration, a conflict also erupted between him (the Second Judge) and M. Waters, the First Judge of the Sadr Adalat. In a heated exchange, Lewin had referred to his colleague as a ‘contemptible scoundrel and a hypocrite’.Footnote ¹⁰¹ He would eventually be dismissed from his office on account of what his superiors would later describe as his ‘intemperate and insulting’ manner.Footnote ¹⁰²

Lewin's views on the Company's religious policy also found expression years later in his reflections on the causes of the 1857 Rebellion. Indians had once respected the Company's rule, he observed. When, however, the Company extended its support to missionaries and turned the agencies of the state into ‘instruments of conversion’, it insulted the feelings of Hindus and sowed the seeds of discontentment.Footnote ¹⁰³ Lewin's identification with the Hindu gentry of Madras, particularly their objections to proselytizing, lies at the heart of his explanation of the events of 1857:

These observations of Lewin reveal a clear pattern of contesting the abuses of Company power, particularly in relation to the ‘native religions’ of India. Above, his sympathies clearly were centred upon Hindus. Seventeen years prior to penning the above reflections, Lewin advocated for the rights of a prominent Muslim on trial for sedition. In what ways were Lewin's sensitivities as a liberal critic of Company power played out in the trial of Maulvi Modin?

From very early on in the trial at Chittoor, Lewin set out to prove that allegations concerning Modin's seditious preaching were ‘a fabrication from beginning to end’.Footnote ¹⁰⁵ His lengthy report, numbering more than 300 points, relied upon two principal threads of argumentation. First, many of the witnesses for the prosecution were, for one reason or another, not credible. In some instances, the testimonies they rendered privately before Awdry at Vellore differed from what they said publically before the magistrate at Chittoor. The prosecution, of course, explained the discrepancy with references to intimidation by Modin's followers. Lewin, however, pointed to instances in which witnesses for the prosecution, rather than retracting their original claims, had actually embellished them. Some, for instance, were unable before Awdry to name others who were present when Modin had delivered his wa'z, but before the Special Court were suddenly able to do so.Footnote ¹⁰⁶ Lewin also described how their testimonies contradicted each other and were refuted by witnesses of the defence. Second, Lewin noted that, during the proceedings at Chittoor, Awdry had solicited additional evidence from his witnesses through illegitimate means.

Lewin discredited the testimonies of many witnesses for the prosecution. Among them was Hussein Jamal Khan. It was Jamal Khan who had first informed Awdry of Modin's seditious preaching. He appears to have served as the chief informant through which Awdry acquired the names of others who were willing to testify about Modin's jihad wa'z. Lewin pointed out that, under oath, Jamal Khan admitted his lack of first-hand knowledge of Modin's alleged sedition. Jamal Khan claimed to have visited Modin's mosque thrice a month for the past two years, but had never actually heard Modin preach such sermons. Neither had he known of others who did.Footnote ¹⁰⁷ By discrediting Jamal Khan—the first link in the chain—Lewin intended to show that all of his contacts had similarly fabricated their claims about Modin.

Lewin also challenged the testimony of Mir Hamed Ali. In his testimony before Awdry, Awdry had identified Ali as the head of a dargah in Vellore. At Chittoor, however, the court identified him as one who made his living by begging—a clear demotion in status. For Lewin, this was an example of how the prosecution had overstated the rank or status held by its witnesses. Not only did Lewin consider these witnesses to be of low repute, but he also believed their testimonies had effectively damaged the reputations of high-ranking persons, whom they named as having also heard Modin's jihad wa'z. Lewin charged that, in so doing, witnesses for the prosecution blurred the lines between Muslim loyalty and disloyalty:

Lewin suggested that, as a mere beggar, Mir Hamed Ali had exerted undue influence over Awdry. He insisted that Ali was a ‘worthless character’ and that his evidence proved himself so. ‘The acts of which the Maulvi stands accused have not occurred within the last ten months,’ Lewin concluded, ‘and the evidence in support of them is of so bad a character that even if true, it would be scarcely possible to trust it.’Footnote ¹⁰⁹

In keeping with his consistent critique of police power, Lewin contested the manner in which Awdry had solicited additional information from his witnesses. After Awdry's original 29 witnesses had reappeared before the magistrate (Ogilvie) to provide their testimonies on oath, many of them returned to Vellore. It was at that time that Awdry again summoned them to provide additional evidence against Modin. With their depositions before the magistrate having been brought to a close, it was illegal for Awdry to solicit any additional evidence from these witnesses.

Awdry was prompted to adopt such measures by an order printed in the September 1839 issue of the Fort Saint George Gazette. The order warned the public of the crime of sedition and described how one Muslim officer named Ausur Khan had lost his pension upon being charged with aiding and abetting sedition. Awdry decided to make this order an occasion for his own public declaration in Vellore. With the full backing of Stewart, Awdry decided to use the example of Ausur Khan as a way of eliciting more evidence concerning Modin.Footnote ¹¹⁰ A conventional method by which police and military authorities had issued declarations was by the beat of the drum, or tom tom. Awdry declared by beat of drum that anyone who came forward with information about seditious preaching would be rewarded by the government, and that any government employee who knew about such preaching but did not report it would be considered an accomplice and could lose their job and pension.

According to Lewin, ‘evidence never before heard came forth’ from men who had presented an entirely different testimony on oath before the magistrate.Footnote ¹¹¹ Motivated by the incentives of financial reward and the threat of losing their posts or pension, these men appear to have embellished their claims concerning Modin's seditious activities. Before the magistrate, some of the original witnesses had effectively retracted their claims about Modin. After Awdry resummoned them by the beat of the drum, he was not only able to solicit information from new witnesses, but was also able to steer his initial witnesses back to their original claims. Somehow, Awdry had hoped to reintroduce the evidence obtained by beat of drum into the ongoing trial at Chittoor. At this point in the trial, however, none of this additional information was admissible.

For his part, Awdry admitted that he had assured potential informants that the government would ‘handsomely reward men coming forward at the risk they have done to expose treason’.Footnote ¹¹² At the same time, he insisted that they tell nothing but the truth. Awdry even told the cotwal, Abdul Qadr, that, if he were aware of treason but did not report it, he would recommend his removal. He conveyed to other witnesses that not reporting treason when they knew of it would be considered an act of aiding and abetting and would be punished.Footnote ¹¹³

For Lewin, these carrots and sticks had all along been a part of Awdry's modus operandi. They provided sufficient motivation for Muslims to level the most incendiary charges against their own maulvi. Even the bonds of Muslim unity would not surmount these incentives:

Lewin's sociology of Indian Muslims suggests that their loyalty to the British was something that could be presumed if they were given jobs, titles, or other means of security under Company rule. In defence of these provisions, they would not hesitate to attack their maulvi, especially if they were assured of the Company's protection.

Lewin's rebuttal of the prosecution's case went far beyond the matter of Awdry's methods for extracting evidence. His case stressed what he saw as the absurdity of the very claims being made about Modin. Why was it, he posed, that, of the thousands of Muslims who had heard Modin's seditious sermons, not one would have come forward during the three-year period when he had delivered them? It was only after Elphinstone's circular of March 1839 (alerting police of emissaries who were trying to ‘tamper’ with the feelings of the sepoys) that anyone had ever referred to Modin's jihad wa'z. Lewin found it highly implausible that Modin would openly preach rebellion before the multitudes, many of whom were high-ranking Muslim officers or employees of the Company:

As much as Lewin's arguments advanced the case for Modin's innocence, they did not necessarily cast Indian Muslims in a sympathetic light. He portrayed Muslims as being nominally defined by their religious affiliation, but ultimately influenced by their quest for security through the Company's patronage. Lewin drew no distinction between Indian Muslims and Wahhabis, who presumably were willing to wage jihad for the right cause. In fact, Lewin never refers to Wahhabis at all.

When the prosecution and defence had concluded their cases, they forwarded their evidence and arguments to the judges of the Faujdari Adalat. As the final arbiters of this criminal trial, these judges concurred with Lewin about the procedural flaws employed by the Vellore police. This was one among several factors that ultimately sunk the case of the prosecution. One of the judges, A. D. Campbell, criticized the manner in which Awdry invited evidence by the beat of the drum:

Essentially, Awdry had baited witnesses to produce groundless allegations about Modin. Moreover, he did so under the false presumption that Modin had in fact delivered the messages in question.

Ultimately, the Faujdari Adalat disregarded those testimonies obtained by the beat of the drum. Moreover, it noted the voices of many other witnesses of the defence who claimed to have attended Modin's mosque for years without having heard any seditious sermons. Witnesses for the prosecution named others who were present when Modin delivered his jihad wa'z. When those named were deposed, however, they denied having heard the wa'z. The following excerpt from the judgment illustrates the culture of evidence that won the day:

The meticulous manner in which the judges of the Faujdari Adalat referenced and cross-referenced testimonies of witnesses, even within a climate of Islamophobia, ensured that the trial of Modin would not amount to a witch-hunt.

Another flaw in the case identified by Judge Campbell was the lack of any specific date on which the seditious messages were supposed to have been given. The prosecution stated that the preaching had occurred ‘on or between the years 1836 and 1839’. ‘A charge this indefinite’, Campbell charged, ‘is manifestly illegal’, since the precise date of the offence was never supplied. To ignore this rule would deny the defendant the legal right to the means of rebutting the charge.Footnote ¹¹⁷

The other judge of the Faujdari Adalat, W. Huddleston, questioned the believability of the charges brought against Modin. Arguing along lines similar to those of Lewin, Huddleston contended that it is highly unlikely that Modin would have openly preached treason in a mosque ‘accessible, [if witnesses for the prosecution are believed] to all corners, at a place full of persons in the employ of the British Government’.Footnote ¹¹⁸ Witnesses for the prosecution named military subidars and pensioners of all ranks as accessories to Modin's crimes, calling into question their longstanding loyalty to the Company. This, according to Huddleston, defies all reason. ‘Treason,’ he observed, ‘is hatched in secret, and does not thus stalk forth in the face of day.’Footnote ¹¹⁹